Arun lightly plants a kiss on Kai’s fiery cheek. He waits for a response. Kai still takes no action.
Arun smiles at him. “Scared old man,” he says affectionately. “Who do you think these gods are who are showing up wanting handouts and threatening to turn off the rain if they don’t get it? How long do you think they will let you rule?”
“Until I die. They are gods and can afford to be patient.”
“No, they can’t. Nothing is more fragile than faith.”
“Are you warning me of danger, or asking me to retire? Or just threatening to kill me?”
“All three,” says Arun. “These gods of yours get bored. They do terrible things. They send plagues just to keep us in line, and make us pray and give more offerings.”
“Sounds like the Ten.”
“Oh, we are human. They are not. We can still sympathize. They consume. Poor people always get consumed.”
“That is the way of the World,” sighs Kai.
“Friend of yours, is he?” Arun asks.
“Yes.”
Arun goes still. He strokes Kai’s head. “You have been serving everything we are taught to shun. So have I.”
“Well, there is no guarantee that what we were taught was true. How long can you lie on top of me with a sword at my throat?”
“Until we both die,” says Arun, passion in his eyes.
Kai chuckles. “You are so like me when I was young.”
Then he says it again in despair. “You are the closest thing I have to a son.”
Arun says the obvious. “Then. Make me King.”
Kai considers. “There is no such thing as an ex-King who is still alive. I have another proposal. I really like this idea, by the way. I make you Regent. You rule here. And I? I go on retreat and I try to recover a little bit of merit before I die. Enough to get me out of hell and perhaps be reborn as an insect or a slug.”
“You will declare me your legitimate son, fathered in your youth. Your flesh and blood, your rightful heir. You will give me the title of Crown Prince.”
“You’re making demands, and all you have is a sword.”
“No, Father. I have your love. And you don’t want to be stuck in hell or reborn as a slug, and I don’t want that for you either. I want to see Kai restored to himself.”
They look at each other a moment, pat each other’s arms, chuckle and sit up.
“What will you do as Regent?” Kai asks.
“I’ll make us all Buddhists. But I’ll let the worship of the old gods continue. I’ll starve them slowly. And I’ll make sure that dear old Mala is convinced that I will always give him his due.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Not always,” says Arun.
The next day King Kai declares publicly that Arun is his natural son and heir. He makes him Crown Prince and announces his retirement from the capital. Arun will rule in his stead. Kai passes him the Sacred Sword. There is wild, ecstatic cheering at this delightful development.
There are some hours of light ceremonials, a bit of singing and dancing and drinking holy water. Then Arun mounts the dais. He looks down at the sad-eyed throne and says, “Get this terrible thing out of here and cremate it with honors.”
Kai packs what he took with him on that first quest nine years ago. The Likely Ten, now terrible to behold, safely escort Kai to the gates of the royal precinct, just to be sure that he really has gone. With every step he chuckles.
He walks across the fields, toward the lake and across the kingdom. Everywhere people treat him with respect and kindness. This is due in part to a new Chbap that Arun commissioned and paid to have chanters repeat.
Imitate the wisdom of the Great King Kai
Know when to pass responsibility to your son
Depart in good cheer
For that quieter kingdom of the world
Where wisdom is found in small things.
Villagers recognize him, and beg him stay to chant at weddings. He does so in good cheer. No one accuses him of anything. Women who remember how handsome he once was place garlands of flowers around his neck and hold up their hands in
Arun smiles at him. “Scared old man,” he says affectionately. “Who do you think these gods are who are showing up wanting handouts and threatening to turn off the rain if they don’t get it? How long do you think they will let you rule?”
“Until I die. They are gods and can afford to be patient.”
“No, they can’t. Nothing is more fragile than faith.”
“Are you warning me of danger, or asking me to retire? Or just threatening to kill me?”
“All three,” says Arun. “These gods of yours get bored. They do terrible things. They send plagues just to keep us in line, and make us pray and give more offerings.”
“Sounds like the Ten.”
“Oh, we are human. They are not. We can still sympathize. They consume. Poor people always get consumed.”
“That is the way of the World,” sighs Kai.
“Friend of yours, is he?” Arun asks.
“Yes.”
Arun goes still. He strokes Kai’s head. “You have been serving everything we are taught to shun. So have I.”
“Well, there is no guarantee that what we were taught was true. How long can you lie on top of me with a sword at my throat?”
“Until we both die,” says Arun, passion in his eyes.
Kai chuckles. “You are so like me when I was young.”
Then he says it again in despair. “You are the closest thing I have to a son.”
Arun says the obvious. “Then. Make me King.”
Kai considers. “There is no such thing as an ex-King who is still alive. I have another proposal. I really like this idea, by the way. I make you Regent. You rule here. And I? I go on retreat and I try to recover a little bit of merit before I die. Enough to get me out of hell and perhaps be reborn as an insect or a slug.”
“You will declare me your legitimate son, fathered in your youth. Your flesh and blood, your rightful heir. You will give me the title of Crown Prince.”
“You’re making demands, and all you have is a sword.”
“No, Father. I have your love. And you don’t want to be stuck in hell or reborn as a slug, and I don’t want that for you either. I want to see Kai restored to himself.”
They look at each other a moment, pat each other’s arms, chuckle and sit up.
“What will you do as Regent?” Kai asks.
“I’ll make us all Buddhists. But I’ll let the worship of the old gods continue. I’ll starve them slowly. And I’ll make sure that dear old Mala is convinced that I will always give him his due.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Not always,” says Arun.
The next day King Kai declares publicly that Arun is his natural son and heir. He makes him Crown Prince and announces his retirement from the capital. Arun will rule in his stead. Kai passes him the Sacred Sword. There is wild, ecstatic cheering at this delightful development.
There are some hours of light ceremonials, a bit of singing and dancing and drinking holy water. Then Arun mounts the dais. He looks down at the sad-eyed throne and says, “Get this terrible thing out of here and cremate it with honors.”
Kai packs what he took with him on that first quest nine years ago. The Likely Ten, now terrible to behold, safely escort Kai to the gates of the royal precinct, just to be sure that he really has gone. With every step he chuckles.
He walks across the fields, toward the lake and across the kingdom. Everywhere people treat him with respect and kindness. This is due in part to a new Chbap that Arun commissioned and paid to have chanters repeat.
Imitate the wisdom of the Great King Kai
Know when to pass responsibility to your son
Depart in good cheer
For that quieter kingdom of the world
Where wisdom is found in small things.
Villagers recognize him, and beg him stay to chant at weddings. He does so in good cheer. No one accuses him of anything. Women who remember how handsome he once was place garlands of flowers around his neck and hold up their hands in
Similar Books
