One day a king was visited by a beggar, seeking enough money to have food to eat. Now, ordinarily the king would have him beaten and thrown in jail or worse. But it so happened that the king had as a guest the king of a neighboring kingdom, and wished to appear generous before him.
“Give this man five silver pieces and as much food as he can eat,” said the king magnanimously.
“That is very generous of you,” said the second king. “Of course, if a beggar came to my court to beg a meal, I would give him ten silver pieces and as much food as he could carry.” This was not entirely true. If there were no one around he wished to impress, the second king would also have had the man beaten and thrown in jail or worse.
The first king turned to his attendant. “Give this man twenty pieces of silver and a wagon full of food. And let him keep the wagon, besides!”
The beggar bowed, and thanked the king. “Surely you are the most generous king who has ever lived, your Highness,” he added.
The beggar turned and followed the attendant out. He was smiling to himself, for he knew just how lucky it was that he had come when the king had an important visitor to impress.
The first king was smiling ear to ear. “Did you by any chance hear what the beggar said?” The second king frowned. “You see, in my kingdom we understand that there is no man so low that he cannot be raised up again with the help of his fellow man.”
“That may be,” said the second king. “But in my kingdom, we value helping one’s fellow man above all else.”
“So do we,” said the first king. “I would wager that the people of my kingdom are more generous than yours.”
“And I would wager that mine are more generous than yours,” answered the second king.
“Then, let us have the wager. I will prove you wrong.”
“How?”
The first king rubbed his bearded chin and thought. The second king did the same.
The beggar, who had returned unnoticed, spoke up. “Pardon, my interrupting, your Highness,” he said. “But I wondered, should I return the horse that will pull the wagon or…?”
“Yes, yes, keep the horse,” said the first king. “Can’t you see we are busy?”
“My apologies, your Highness, said the beggar with a bow. “I am in your debt. If there is anything I can ever do to help you, please call on me.”
The king laughed. “Thank you, my good man. Although how you could ever…? Wait just a moment. Perhaps you can help me.”
“I am at your service, your Highness,” said the beggar.
The king explained that they wished to discover whose kingdom had the more generous people. He wondered if, perhaps, someone in the beggar’s station in life might have an idea on how to go about that.
The beggar did. “If you want to know whose people are more generous,” he said, “you might dress up as a beggar and walk among your people, and see what happens.”
Upon hearing this, both kings burst out laughing. They laughed so hard that tears streamed from their eyes.
“You know,” said the first king, “That would really settle the matter, wouldn’t it?”
“Are you willing?” asked the second king.
“I am, if you are,” said the first king.
“As am I, under the same conditions,” said the second king. “The problem is, of course, that my people would know me instantly, even if I wore a disguise.”
“As would mine. Otherwise…”.
“Precisely. If it were not for that, I would do it in a moment.”
The beggar cleared his throat. “If I may, your Highnesses…?”
“Please,” said the first king.
“By all means, proceed,” said the second king.
“Of course, your Highnesses are handsome and noble men with features that surely could only belong to a kind,” began the beggar. “But I have found that people rarely look at the man when they see that his clothes are dirty and in tatters.”
“Yes, yes,” said the first king. “However, while that may be true of you, beggar, it would unfortunately not be true of me.”
“Precisely,” said the second king. “It would be even less true of me.”
The beggar shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, you are right….”
“Of course!” began the first king.
“It is only natural if the idea frightens you,” added the beggar.
“Frightens me? Nothing frightens me!” shouted the first king.
“And even less frightens me!” shouted the second king.
“I’m sure it won’t work,” said the first king. “And yet I would be happy to try it. However, I doubt that he would agree to such a plan,” he said, turning to the second king.
“I was just going to say the same thing about you,” said the second king.
“I will do it if you will,” said the first king.
“I will do it even if you won’t,” the second king rejoined.
“Then, it is settled,” said the first king. “We will each spend a week among our people wearing only the rags of a beggar. I am looking forward to it.”
“Not half as much as I am,” said the second king.
The first king turned to the beggar. “At the end of the week, we will summon this fellow and tell him what has happened to us, and let him judge whose people is more generous.”
“That sounds like an admirable plan,” said the beggar.
Both kings wondered if, perhaps, it might not have been better if they had just had the beggar beaten and thrown in jail, or worse. But what was done was done. The visiting king immediately left for home to start preparations. As soon as he left, the first king called together his tailors and demanded that they create the perfect beggar’s outfit.
Over the next few days, the kings set aside their other duties to focus on their upcoming wager. They tried on one beggar’s costume after another and found fault with each. They spent hours practicing how they would act and what they would say on their journeys, and had many long discussions with their barbers about how to look less regal and well-manicured. Finally, the day had arrived. The two kings, dressed in the finest rags, set out into their respective kingdoms as beggars. Each, of course, had a few attendants in tow, traveling behind at a discreet distance, as well as their royal scribe, whose job it was to record for the opposing king and posterity the magnanimous generosity of their people.
While the first king’s attendants hid behind a tree, the king approached a house a short walk from the castle’s walls. He knocked on the door and waited. After a moment, a portly, middle-aged woman opened the door. “Pardon me, madam. I wonder if you might have some nourishment for a poor beggar who has traveled far?”
“Away with you before I take a broom to you!” said the woman. And with that, she slammed the door in the king’s face.
Meanwhile, in the neighboring kingdom the second king had also just knocked on his first door. It was opened by a thin elderly man smoking a pipe. “Pardon me, sir,” said the second king. “I have traveled far—”
“I will give you until the count of three before I sic my dogs on you,” shouted the man. And with that, he slammed the door in the second king’s face.
The kings, of course, were not used to being treated like this. They were both tempted to call out to their men and order them to arrest the offender and throw them in chains. The only thing that stopped them was the thought that the other king might then claim to have won the bet. The kings continued on to a second house and a third and a fourth—and were greeted with a similar degree of courtesy and generosity. Time and again, the kings resisted the urge for revenge (although it wasn’t easy). Thinking they were going to be well fed, the kings had not had their attendants bring any provisions. By the end of the day, they were weak with hunger, and their feet ached from all the walking they had done. As the sun set, the kings found themselves some distance from their castles. They had expected to be put up for the night in the best bed in the best room in any house of their choosing. Instead, not even the meanest barn had been offered to them. They had a choice: to give up and return home or bed down in an open field for the night, and continue on the next morning. They wanted to return home and sleep in their luxurious beds in their magnificent palaces, but the thought that the other might be succeeding where they had failed made them determined to continue. The kings had their attendants gather hay and make them makeshift beds. Then, they sent them off to steal eggs and whatever else they could find to eat nearby.
As he sat down heavily in the straw, the first king noticed his scribe dip his quill in ink and begin to write. “What are you doing?”
“Recording the events of the day, your Highness,” replied the scribe.
“Do it and I will have your head on a platter,” said the king.
At just about the same time, the second king saw his scribe take out his quill, ink and parchment. He jabbed his finger at him and snapped, “There is nothing to record about today!”
Both kings had great difficulty falling asleep that night, and when they finally did, they had terrible dreams about not being king and about being poor and hungry.
The next morning, the first king woke up much happier than he had been the night before. He thought he had figured out why he had been treated so badly. He woke up his attendants with a few well-placed kicks from his boot, and explained.
“I’m sure the people saw you lurking in the background,” said the king. “They were afraid it was some kind of ambush, and that is why they were so rude and ungenerous. So, I am going to continue today on my own.”
“Do you think that is safe, your majesty?” asked one of the king’s attendants.
“Of course, it is safe! My people would never harm me.” The king pointed to the scribe. “You will come with me, so you can record for all to read the great generosity of my people.”
As soon as the first king’s attendants had left, the king started off down the road with his scribe. They walked until the king spied a handsome home.
“I will try this one,” said the king. “You hide behind that tree and make sure to write down everything the owner says and does.”
The scribe hid behind a tree and readied his quill.
The king walked up to the front door and banged the knocker. No one came. The king knocked louder. He heard footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and there stood an elderly woman with a frying pan in her hand. “Kind madam, you see before you a tired and hungry beggar,” said the king. “I have traveled far and suffered much. Won’t you bless me with a small meal?”
The king made a small bow, and waited for her generous reply—which unfortunately took the form of a whack on the head with her heavy frying pan.
“Ow!” shouted the king. He would have said much more, if he had been given the chance. But the old woman took another swing at him with the frying pan, and the king had no choice but to retreat, in a dignified manner, of course.
When he arrived at the tree where the scribe was hiding, the first king found his scribe writing intently in his notebook.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Writing down everything she said and did,” said the scribe.
“Give me that,” said the king.
The scribe handed the king his notebook.
The king tore out the page the scribe was writing on, and ripped it into tiny pieces. Then, he handed the scribe back the notebook. “Now, start again. Take down everything I say.”
The scribe began to write.
Meanwhile, back in his kingdom, the second king had just had a similarly traumatic start to his day. Confident that things were going to go much better without his attendants ruining everything, the king had walked up to the first farmhouse he saw and knocked loudly on the door.
When the farmer opened the door, the second king bowed and said, “Kind sir, you see before you a poor beggar who is hungry. Won’t you—?”
That is as far as he got before the farmer chased him off his property with his dogs. When the second king arrived at the tree where his scribe was supposed to be waiting, he was nowhere to be found. Then, the king looked up and saw him perched on a high branch, writing.
“Get down here,” demanded the king. “And give me that notebook.”
As soon as the first king arrived back in court, he sent a messenger to the second king, informing him that he had finished his adventure, and inviting the other king to visit. He also sent word for the beggar. When the second king arrived with his scribe, the first king could not wait to have the scribe read from the journal. The second king sat quietly while the scribe read one glorious account after another of the extraordinary generosity of the people in the first king’s kingdom. To hear him tell it, every person the king met offered him food and money and clothing down to their last bite and last coin and every stitch of clothing they owned and more.
When he was finished, the second king said, “I admit, I am impressed with the generosity of your people. Now, let me have my scribe read to you what happened in my kingdom.”
The scribe read an account of the second king’s travels that was every bit as filled with selfless and wonderful generosity. To hear him tell it, the second king was offered a home and a horse and enough food to last for years everywhere he went.
When he was finished, the first king said, “I am impressed, my friend. From the sound of it, your people are very nearly as generous as my own.”
The first king turned to the beggar. “What do you say? Whose kingdom is more generous?” The first king hoped that the beggar would choose him, even though the second king’s account of his adventures was every bit as impressive as his own, since the beggar was one of his countrymen, and he had given him money and food, and a horse to boot.
The beggar looked from one king to the other and back again. “All I can say is that you were right, your Highness,” he said.
“Ah-ha!” said the first king, clapping his hands. “I’ve won!”
“Pardon me, your highness. I wasn’t quite finished,” said the beggar.
He turned to the second king. “And you were right too, your Highness.”
“Ah-ha!” said the second king, making sure to clap his hands even louder. “I’ve won!”
“Nonsense!” said the first king. “We can’t both have won.”
“Surely, that is true,” said the second king. “If we have both won, then we have both lost.”
“Precisely,” said the first king.
“Pardon me, your Highnesses,” said the beggar. “Neither of you won, but both of you were right.”
“Impossible,” said the first king.
“I quite agree,” said the second king. “Impossible.”
“What I meant,” said the beggar, “is that you were both right when you said that surely you would be recognized as kings, even dressed as beggars.”
“I assure you, no one recognized me,” said the first king.
“Nor me,” added the second king.
“But they must have,” said the beggar to the first king. “You see, I followed you on your journey, and visited the same houses you did after you. And I was treated very differently from the way you described being treated at each one.”
“You dared to spy on your king?” said the first king, his face suddenly red with anger, embarrassment, or both.
“Of course, not, your Highness,” said the beggar. “I just wanted to make sure that you were not treated badly. I could not bear to think that my appearing at your court, which led to you undertaking this experiment, might lead you to come to harm or some embarrassment.”
“I see,” said the first king. “Were you quite nearby?”
“Only so near that I could come to your aid if you were in trouble,” said the beggar.
“And afterwards you visited the same homes?” said the second king.
“I did, and I was treated very poorly.”
“Well, that settles it,” said the second king to the first. “Clearly, your people recognized you through your disguise. I have won, then.”
“If I might be so bold…” began the beggar.
“Yes…?” said the second king apprehensively. He knew the beggar could not have spied on him as well, but he was worried that there might be something wrong with his logic.
“It seems unlikely to me that someone so magnificently royal as you would not also be recognized as a king, if my king was,” said the beggar.
The second king pondered this. He realized that he could not lay claim to having a more generous people than the first king without also acknowledging that he was less royal-looking than him. “Yes,” he said, finally, with a dramatic sigh. “You are right. My people must have recognized me, too.”
“Alas, we shall never know whose people are more generous,” said the first king. “Even in rags we can’t help but look like kings.”
“Precisely,” said the second king. “Alas. It is a curse. We cannot hide our kingliness, try as we might.”
“I wonder,” said the beggar. “Given your experiences as beggars in your kingdoms—although, of course, you were both treated as kings—whether you wouldn’t like to issue some kind of a modest decree, recommending that your people show kindness to strangers and to those in need, who may have less than they do.”
The kings both thought about how they had been treated. They glanced at each other, and then looked quickly away, each fearing that the other might see the truth in their expressions.
The beggar continued. “That way you both can ensure that your two kingdoms are the two most generous kingdoms of all.”
“I will do it, if you will,” said the first king.
“And I will do it, if you will,” said the second king.
And so, they did. From then on, those in need in the two kingdoms were treated just a little bit better than they had been before.
Nathaniel Lachenmeyer is an award-winning disabled author of books for children and adults. His first book, The Outsider, which takes as its subject his late father’s struggles with schizophrenia and homelessness, was published by Broadway Books. His most recent book, an all-ages graphic novel called The Singing Rock & Other Brand-New Fairy Tales, was published by First Second/Macmillan. Nathaniel has forthcoming/recently published poems, stories and essays with North Dakota Quarterly, Potomac Review, Epiphany, About Place Journal and DIAGRAM. Nathaniel lives outside Atlanta with his family. www.NathanielLachenmeyer.com.