The Uncrowned King

And the First Voice Was the Voice of the Waves

It was nearing the fall of day when first the Pilgrim laid himself to meditate upon his couch in The Quiet Room.

Without the Temple, the tall trees rustled softly their glossy leaves and over the flower-figured carpet of green the sunlight and shadow fairies danced along the lanes of gold. High in the blue above, the fairy cloud-fleets were drifting—drifting—idly floating. Over the Beautiful Sea, the glad wave fairies ran one after the other from beyond the far horizon to the sandy shore.

In The Quiet Room where the Pilgrim lay, it was very, very, still. Only the liquid music of the waves came through the open window—came to the Pilgrim clearer and sweeter than the sweetest notes from clear toned bells.

And after a little there was in the music of the waves a Voice.

Said the Voice: “To thee, O Hadji, I come from the Beautiful Sea; the interminable, unfathomable sea, that begins at the Outer-Edge-Of-Things and stretches away into Neverness. I speak from out the Deeps Beneath. I tell of the Great That Is. I am a Voice of Life, O Hadji, and mine it is to begin for you The Tale of The Uncrowned King.”

And this is the beginning of the Tale that the Voice of the Waves began.

Very great and very wonderful, O Hadji, is the Land of Allthetime. Very great and very wonderful is the Royal City Daybyday. Beautiful in Allthetime are the lakes and rivers, the mountains, plains and streams. Beautiful in Daybyday are the groves and gardens, the drives and parks, the harbors and canals. Countless, in this Royal City, are the palaces. Without number are the people—without number and of many races, languages, and names.

But amid the countless palaces in this marvelous city Daybyday, there is one Temple only—only one. For the numberless people of the many races, languages, and names, there is but one God—only one. About this Royal City there is no Wall. For the King of Allthetime, who dwells in Daybyday, there is no Crown.

But the days that were were not as the days that are, O Hadji, and therefore is this Tale.

In the long ago olden days, when King What-Soever-Youthink ruled over the Land of Allthetime, there were, in this Royal City Daybyday, religions many—as many quite as the races, languages and names of the people. Many then were the temples built by the many followers of the many religions to their many gods. For you must know that King What-Soever-You-think was, of all wise kings that ever were or will be, the very wisest and, therefore, permitted his subjects to worship whom they would.

Always in the city streets there were vast throngs of people passing to and fro among the temples, bearing offerings and singing praises to the gods of their choice; for the chiefest occupation of the dwellers in Daybyday was then, as it is now, the old, old, occupation of worship. Some of the temples, it is true, were at times quite deserted, while in others there was not room for the multitudes; but even in the nearly empty temples the priests and beggars always remained, for, in that age, the people of Daybyday changed often their gods nor followed any very far.

And you must know, too, O Hadji, that in those long ago olden days—the days of the reign of What-Soever-Youthink there was for the Ruler of Allthetime a Crown; and that of all the wonders in that wonderful land this Crown was the most wonderful. More dear to the people of Daybyday than their city itself, more precious than their splendid temples, more sacred even than their many gods, was this—the Crown of their King.

It was so, first, because the Crown was extremely old. From the beginning of the reign of the Royal Family Everyone, no one knows how many thousands of ages ago, it had passed from king to king, even until that day.

It was so, second, because the Crown was exceedingly valuable. From the very beginning of the beginning each ruler had in turn added a jewel to the golden, gem encrusted emblem of his rank.

It was so, third, because the Crown was a Magic Crown, though no one then knew its magic—they knew only that its magic was.

Therefore, again, O Hadji, is this Tale.

Also, in those days, there was about this Royal City a Wall—a wall built, so they said, on the very foundations of the world; so strong that no force could breach it, and so high that the clouds often hid its towers and battlements. Only from the topmost cupola of the Royal Palace could one see over this mighty barrier. Only by the Two Great Gates could one pass through.

And so the good people of Allthetime could all quite clearly see that in the Royal City Daybyday the precious Magic Crown was as safe as ever crown could be. And it was so, O Hadji—it was so. The Crown was as safe as ever crown could be—as safe indeed as ever a crown can be.

And this too is truth, O Hadji; that in Daybyday, even now, you may find ruins of the many temples, and here and there a little of the many gods. Even now you may see where the Great Wall was. But of the Crown, in these days, there is nothing—nothing.

And this is how it happened—this is the way it came to be.

King What-Soever-Youthink was the father of two sons; twins they were, and their names—Really-Is and Seemsto-Be. No one in all the kingdom could tell them one from the other, though the princes themselves knew that Really-Is was first born, and that when the wise king, their father, died, it would be for him to occupy the throne, to wear the Crown, and rule the Land of Allthetime.

One day when the young princes were playing in the palace yard they discovered, by chance, an old door that led to the stairway in a tower. Of course they climbed up, up, up, until they stood at last in the cupola at the very top. Far beneath their feet they saw the roofs of the Royal Palace, and the gardens, fields, and orchards, like spots and splashes of color. The walks and courts appeared as lines and squares of white, while the soldiers and servants moved about like tiny animated dots. Reaching away from the palace grounds on every side was the wonderful city Daybyday, so far below that no sound could reach their ears. To their delight, the princes found that they could even look down upon the Great Wall; and, because there were that day no clouds to shut out the view, they could see far, far away over the Land of Allthetime.

“Look, brother,” cried Seemsto-Be, catching Really-Is by the arm in quick excitement, “Look! what is that flashing and gleaming in the sun?”

As he spoke, he pointed afar off to the land beyond the river that marks the end of Allthetime.

“I’m sure I cannot tell;” answered Really-Is, shading his eyes with his open hand and gazing long and earnestly in the direction his brother indicated; “It looks—it looks like a city.”

“It is, it is,” cried Seemsto-Be. “It is the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. I remember hearing once the Chief Gardener telling the Chief Coachman about it, and he said that the Chief Cook said that he heard the Captain of the Guard say that it is far more wonderful than our own city Daybyday; and it must be so, Really-Is, for see, brother, how the walls shine like polished silver, and look! Is not that a palace or a temple blazing so like a ruby flame?”

Often after that did the twin princes, Really-Is and Seemsto-Be, climb the winding stairs in the palace tower and look away over the Great Wall of Daybyday to the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. Many were the hours they spent talking of the marvelous place that so filled the distance with dazzling splendor. And at last, when the princes were quite grown, they went before their royal father and asked permission to visit the city they had seen.

Now King What-Soever-Youthink was very sad when his sons made their request, but nevertheless, because he was a wise king, he gave his royal consent, and, that the brothers might make their journey in comfort, presented to each a priceless horse from the palace stables. To Really-Is he gave Reality; to Seemsto-Be he gave Appearance; and both were steeds of noble breeding, swift and strong, beautiful and proud—as like even as the royal twins, their masters.

So it came that the two princes bade farewell to their father, the King, and rode bravely out of the city Daybyday, through the Land of Allthetime, and along the way that leads to the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome.

“And this, O Hadji,” said the Voice of the Waves, “is all of The Tale of The Uncrowned King that is given me to tell.”

The liquid music of the waves came no longer through the open window—the voice that was in the music came no more to the Pilgrim in The Quiet Room. Without the Temple the tall trees were still-still and silent were the sweet-voiced birds. The sunlight and shadow fairies had danced to the ends of the lanes of gold—danced to the very ends and were gone. The feathery cloud ships in the blue above seemed to lie at anchor, and over the surface of the Beautiful Sea no laughing ripples ran to play on the pebbly beach.

The Pilgrim arose from his couch, and, going to the open window, looked, and there, in the still, fathomless, depth of the clear water, he saw as in a crystal glass the wonderful city Daybyday with its canals and harbors, its parks and drives, its groves and gardens, its palaces and temples.

Then, even as the Pilgrim looked, quickly the Evening Wind sprang up. Again the tall trees rustled their leaves, the cloud ships lifted their anchors, the waves of the Beautiful Sea ran joyously; the Vision in the Deeps Beneath was gone.