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Agaliha
March 15th, 2009, 11:32 PM
_THE CLEVER WEAVER_


Once upon a time the king of a far country was sitting on his throne,
listening to the complaints of his people, and judging between them.
That morning there had been fewer cases than usual to deal with, and
the king was about to rise and go into his gardens, when a sudden stir
was heard outside, and the lord high chamberlain entered, and inquired
if his majesty would be graciously pleased to receive the ambassador
of a powerful emperor who lived in the east, and was greatly feared by
the neighbouring sovereigns. The king, who stood as much in dread of
him as the rest, gave orders that the envoy should be admitted at
once, and that a banquet should be prepared in his honour. Then he
settled himself again on his throne, wondering what the envoy had to
say.

The envoy said nothing. He advanced to the throne where the king was
awaiting him, and stooping down, traced on the floor with a rod which
he held in his hand a black circle all round it. Then he sat down on a
seat that was near, and took no further notice of anyone.

The king and his courtiers were equally mystified and enraged at this
strange behaviour, but the envoy sat as calm and still as an image,
and it soon became plain that they would get no explanation from
_him_. The ministers were hastily summoned to a council, but not one
of them could throw any light upon the subject. This made the king
more angry than ever, and he told them that unless before sunset they
could find someone capable of solving the mystery he would hang them
all.

The king was, as the ministers knew, a man of his word; and they
quickly mapped out the city into districts, so that they might visit
house by house, and question the occupants as to whether they could
fathom the action of the ambassador. Most of them received no reply
except a puzzled stare; but, luckily, one of them was more observant
than the rest, and on entering an empty cottage where a swing was
swinging of itself, he began to think it might be worth while for him
to see the owner. Opening a door leading into another room, he found a
second swing, swinging gently like the first, and from the window he
beheld a patch of corn, and a willow which moved perpetually without
any wind, in order to frighten away the sparrows. Feeling more and
more curious, he descended the stairs and found himself in a large
light workshop in which was seated a weaver at his loom. But all the
weaver did was to guide his threads, for the machine that he had
invented to set in motion the swings and the willow pole made the loom
work.

When he saw the great wheel standing in the corner, and had guessed
the use of it, the merchant heaved a sigh of relief. At any rate, if
the weaver could not guess the riddle, he at least might put the
minister on the right track. So without more ado he told the story of
the circle, and ended by declaring that the person who could explain
its meaning should be handsomely rewarded.

'Come with me at once,' he said. 'The sun is low in the heavens, and
there is no time to lose.'

The weaver stood thinking for a moment and then walked across to a
window, outside of which was a hen-coop with two knuckle-bones lying
beside it. These he picked up, and taking the hen from the coop, he
tucked it under his arm.

'I am ready,' he answered, turning to the minister.

In the hall the king still sat on his throne, and the envoy on his
seat. Signing to the minister to remain where he was, the weaver
advanced to the envoy, and placed the knuckle-bones on the floor
beside him. For answer, the envoy took a handful of millet seed out of
his pocket and scattered it round; upon which the weaver set down the
hen, who ate it up in a moment. At that the envoy rose without a word,
and took his departure.

As soon as he had left the hall, the king beckoned to the weaver.

'You alone seem to have guessed the riddle,' said he, 'and great shall
be your reward. But tell me, I pray you, what it all means?'

'The meaning, O king,' replied the weaver, 'is this: The circle drawn
by the envoy round your throne is the message of the emperor, and
signifies, "If I send an army and surround your capital, will you lay
down your arms?" The knuckle-bones which I placed before him told him,
"You are but children in comparison with us. Toys like these are the
only playthings you are fit for." The millet that he scattered was an
emblem of the number of soldiers that his master can bring into the
field; but by the hen which ate up the seed he understood that one of
our men could destroy a host of theirs.'

'I do not think,' he added, 'that the emperor will declare war.'

'You have saved me and my honour,' cried the king, 'and wealth and
glory shall be heaped upon you. Name your reward, and you shall have
it even to the half of my kingdom.'

'The small farm outside the city gates, as a marriage portion for my
daughter, is all I ask,' answered the weaver, and it was all he would
accept. 'Only, O king,' were his parting words, 'I would beg of you to
remember that weavers also are of value to a state, and that they are
sometimes cleverer even than ministers!'

(From _Contes Arméniens_. Par Frédéric Macler.)