The King And The Courtesan

(1) His slaves have learned to anticipate his commands. They could see ahead of his thoughts what he required: a glass of wine, a cushion, a deed of ownership, a fan of peacock feathers, a harem woman. Even before his lips parted, they bowed and intoned, 'Yes, my lord.' Restless, silent, he sat on his throne... A holy man, summoned by his slaves, bowed deeply, and dared to smile in his august presence. 'My lord, what is it you desire of me? ' The King replied sternly, 'I desire nothing of you.' The holy man's smile widened. 'My Lord, that is the cause of your sorrow.' (2) Her smallest gesture was a dance fragment. Her voice was like a song from the high hills of the North. She was no longer a young woman. In dance performances she deferred to those more nimble. In harem gatherings she was withdrawn. During darshan she bowed deeply to the Goddess. When summoned to his private chamber, she complied with the King's every wish. He was puzzled by her: she was not one of his fabled beauties, but he saw her face in palace pools, her scent lingered longer than frangipani, and her speech excelled all but his finest poets. He summoned her again and again, gradually forgetting the other harem women. He mused, 'How is it she has become a princess in my eyes? '