Waiting

The King sat on his gilded throne. All about him his subjects lowered themselves, in variations of supplicating posture. They spoke when they were spoken to and no-one dared turn their back. They waited upon him and he also waited. It amused him to wait. His shining eyes were the only sign that he was enjoying a little joke, inwardly. Something might happen. He knew it was unlikely that something would happen, but something might, and he was prepared to wait, to allow something to happen. If something happened, like someone spoke without permission or fainted in the heat, then the King would enjoy the moment. He wouldn’t do anything about such an event – he wasn’t that sort of king – but it would tickle him that his subjects would be mortified to have authored such an error of protocol. The thought of such a thing happening was enough to keep him entertained, and so he waited some more. They waited on him and he waited too. When his amusement had waned and he felt the first pangs of hunger he called a halt to his own personal silent daily ritual, and he said: “Good morning ladies and gentlemen of the royal chamber. Which of you has news for us this morning? And what’s for lunch?”

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Published in: on March 13, 2013 at 7:35 pm  Leave a Comment  

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