Proud King Hagag sat on his magnificent throne, and a holy man reading from the Holy Book, as was his daily custom. The holy man read these words: “for riches do not last forever, nor a crown for all generations” (Proverbs 27:24).
“Cease!” cried the king. “Who wrote those words?”
“They are the words of the Wisest of Kings,” answered the holy man.
“Give me the book,” commanded the king.
With trembling hands, the holy man placed it before his majesty. King Hagag gazed earnestly at the words that had been read, and he frowned. Raising his hand, he tore the page from the book and threw it to the ground.
“I, Hagag, am king,” he said, “and all such passages that offend me shall be torn out.”
He flung the volume angrily from him while the holy man and all his courtiers looked on in astonishment.
“I have heard enough for today,” he said. “Too long have I delayed my hunting. Prepare the horses immediately.”
He came down from the throne, stalked angrily past the trembling figure of the holy man, and went out to hunt. Soon he was galloping across an open plain toward a forest when a wild stag darted across the field. A trumpet sounded and the hunt began. The king urged his horse forward to be the first in the chase. His steed was the swiftest in the whole kingdom.
In his excitement of the chase, the king vanished from the sight of his nobles and attendants. The deer was surprisingly swift and the king could not catch up with it. Coming to a river, the animal plunged in and swam across. Scrambling up the opposite bank its antlers caught in the branch of a tree, and the king, arriving at the river, gave a cry of joy.
“Now I have you,” he said. Springing from his horse and stripping off his clothes, he swam across with nothing but a sword.
As he reached the opposite bank, the deer freed itself from the tree and plunged into a brush. The king, with his sword in his hand, followed quickly, but could not find the deer. Instead, he found, lying on the ground beyond the thicket, a beautiful youth clad in a deerskin. He was panting as if after a long run. The king stood still in surprise and the youth sprang to his feet.
“I am the deer,” he said. “I am a messenger and I have lured you to this spot, proud king, to teach you a lesson for your words this morning.”
Before King Hagag could recover from his surprise, the youth ran back to the river and swam across. Quickly he dressed himself in the king’s clothes and mounted the horse just as the other hunters came up. They thought the messenger was King Hagag and they halted before him.
“Let us return,” said the messenger. “The deer has crossed the river and has escaped.”
King Hagag from behind a tree on the opposite side watched them ride away and then flung himself on the ground and wept bitterly. There he lay until a woodcutter found him.
“What do you here?” asked the man.
“I am King Hagag,” answered the king.
“You are a fool,” said the woodcutter. “You are a lazy good-for-nothing to say such things. Come, carry my bundle of sticks and I will give you food and an old garment.”
Unsuccessfully the king protested. The woodcutter only laughed the more, and at last, losing patience, he beat him and drove him away. Tired and hungry, and clad only in the rags that the woodcutter had given him, King Hagag reached the palace late at night.
“I am King Hagag,” he said to the guards, but told him to go away. The king spent a terrible sleepless night in the streets of the city. The next morning, he was glad to accept some bread and milk offered to him by a poor old woman who took pity on him. He stood at a street corner not knowing what to do. Little children teased him; others took him for a beggar and offered him money. Later in the day, he saw the messenger ride through the streets on his horse. All the people bowed down before him and cried, “Long live the king!”
“Woe is me,” cried Hagag, in his unhappiness. “I am punished for my sin in scoffing at the words of the Holy Book.”
He saw that it would be useless for him to go to the palace again, and he went into the fields and tried to earn his bread as a laborer. He was not used to work, however, and but for the kindness of the very poorest he would have died of starvation. He wandered miserably from place to place until he fell in with some blind beggars who had been deserted by their guide. Joyfully he accepted their offer to take the guide’s place.
Months rolled by, and one morning the royal heralds went forth and announced that “Good King Hagag” would give a feast in one week and all the beggars in the land were invited to attend.
From all over the kingdom, beggars came to enjoy the feast, and Hagag stood among them, with his blind companions, in the courtyard of the palace waiting for his majesty to appear. He knew the palace well, and he hung his head and wept.
“His majesty will speak to each one of you who are his guests today,” cried a herald, and one by one they passed into the palace and stood before the throne. When it came to Hagag’s turn, he trembled so much that he had to be supported by the guards.
The messenger on the throne and Hagag looked long at each other.
“Are you a beggar also?” said the messenger.
“No, gracious majesty,” answered Hagag with bent head. “I have sinned seriously and have been punished. I am but the servant of a troop of blind beggars to whom I act as guide.”
The messenger king signed to his courtiers that he desired to be left alone with Hagag. Then he said, “Hagag, I know you. I see that you have repented. It is well. Now you can take your rightful place upon the throne.”
“Gracious majesty,” said Hagag, “I have learned humility and wisdom. The throne is not for me. The blind beggars need me. Let me remain in their service.”
“It cannot be,” said the messenger. “I see that you truly regret you past actions. Your lesson is learned and my task is done. I will see that the blind beggars lack nothing.”
With his own hands he placed the royal robes on Hagag and himself donned those of the beggar. When the courtiers returned they saw no difference. King Hagag sat on the throne again, and nowhere in the whole world was there a king who ruled more wisely or showed more kindness and sympathy to all his subjects.
May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)
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Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)