folktale

 Faithful John

The king was dying and called Faithful John to his bedside. So named because he'd been faithful to him his whole life, and once arrived, the king said to him, “Faithful John my end is drawing near and I'm worried about nothing but my son. He is still young in years, and unless you promise to be his foster father and instruct him in everything he ought to know, I won’t be able to die in peace.” Faithful John replied, “I'll serve him faithfully, even if it cost me my life.” Then king then said, “After my death, show him the whole palace, all the chambers, halls, and vaults, and all the treasures in them, but you're not to show the chamber in the long passageway in which is hidden the portrait of the daughter of the king of the Golden Roof. If he sees the portrait, he will fall down in a faint, then become obsessed, which will lead to great dangers.” After Faithful John again gave the king his word, he grew quiet and died.

When the old king had been carried to his grave, Faithful John told the new king what he had promised his father, and said, “I shall keep his promise and be as loyal to you as I was to him, even if it cost my life.” The period of mourning past, Faithful John then said to the king, “Now it’s time for you to see your ancestral palace and heritage.” He led him all about, showing him all the treasures and chambers, except the one with the portrait, where the picture was placed in such a way that on opening the door, one looked straight at it. It was so beautifully done one might think it flesh and blood and alive, and that there couldn't be anything lovelier and more beautiful in the whole world. The king became aware that Faithful John always passed that particular door and said, “Why don't you ever open it for me?” Faithful John told him something in that room will frighten him. The king replied, “I’ve seen the whole palace, I want to know what's in there.” The king stepped forward, about to force the door open, and Faithful John held him back, saying he promised his father before his death, and that what's in that chamber may bring great misfortune. “No,” answered the king, “If I don't get in, it'll be my ruin. I won't move from this spot till you've unlocked the door.” Then Faithful John, knowing there was nothing further to do, and with heavy heart, took out the key from dozens on a ring. When he opened the door, the king beheld the portrait of the girl, so beautiful, sparkling with gold and jewels, and fell in a faint. Faithful John lifted him up, carried him to his bed, sorrowful the mishap had occurred. “Heavens! What will come of it?” When the king came to he asked what beautiful person is that a portrait of. “It's the daughter of the king of the Golden Roof,” Faithful John replied. The king went on to say, “My love for her is so great that if all the leaves on the trees were tongues, they couldn't express it, and I’ll risk my life for her. You're my faithful servant and you must help me.” Faithful John reflected on how to accomplish this, as it was difficult to get even get into her presence. Then he hit upon a plan and said to the king, “Everything she has about her is of gold: tables, chairs, dishes, cups, bowls, and all utensils. There are five tons of gold in your treasury. Have one ton of it wrought by goldsmiths of your kingdom into all sorts of vessels and utensils, and likenesses of animals known and unknown, as she would like that. We will travel to her with these things and try our luck.” The king summoned his goldsmiths, instructing them to work day and night, till finally, the most magnificent things were ready. When everything had been loaded on a ship, Faithful John put on a merchant’s clothes, and had the king do the same, disguising themselves completely. They journeyed overseas until they came to the kingdom of Golden Roof. Faithful John bade the king stay with the ship and wait. “Perhaps,” he said, “I’ll bring the princess with me. Therefore, see to it everything is ready, have the vessels put on display and the entire ship decked out with the work of the goldsmiths.” Then he gathered up a number of gold trinkets into his apron, went ashore, straight to the royal palace.

When he reached the courtyard, a pretty woman who was the chambermaid, was standing by the well, drawing water into two golden pails, and turning, about to carry it away, saw the stranger and asked who he was. “I’m a merchant,” he replied, drawing from his apron the work of the goldsmiths. “Oh what beautiful gold-ware!” she cried out. She set down the pails and examined the works. “The king’s daughter must see these,” she said, “she's very fond of gold trinkets.” When the king’s daughter saw the gold-ware, she was most happy and said, “These are so beautifully wrought that I'll buy them all.” Faithful John replied, “I’m only a merchant’s servant, what I have here is nothing to what my master has down aboard his ship.” She wanted everything brought to her, but he said, “That would take days, there's so much of it.” In her curiosity and desire to see more, “Take me down to the ship,” she said, “I’ll go there to view your masters treasures.” Faithful John brought her to the ship. On beholding her, the king saw her beauty was even greater than her portrait had shown, and thought his heart would burst with joy. She went aboard and the king escorted her about the deck to view the works, then escorted her down into the hold to view more. Just then Faithful John ordered the ship to set sail. Inside the ship, the king showed her the gold service: utensils, dishes, cups, bowls, animals known and unknown. Time passed while she looked at everything, and then in her joy, noticed the ship was moving along. When she came to the deck she saw the ship was already far from land and under full sale. “Oh,” she cried in a fright, “I’ve been tricked and abducted! Fallen into the power of a merchant! I’d rather die!” But the king took her by the hand and said, “I’m not merchant, I'm a king and not inferior to you in birth. I’ve abducted you by because of my great, great love for you. The first time I saw your portrait, I fell to the ground in a faint.” She was consoled and her heart so inclined she consented to become his queen.

As it happened, Faithful John, sitting near bow playing music, saw three ravens alight upon the crossbeam of a mast. He stopped to listen to what they were saying, “Well, he's bringing home the daughter of the king of the Gold Roof,” said the first. To which the second replied, “Yes, he has got her. She's sitting beside him in the hold.” To which the third replied, “But what good will it do? When they reach shore, a horse as red as a fox will come galloping up, he'll want to mount it, and if he does, it will run away with him into the air and he'll never see the maiden again.” To which the second asked, “Is there no way of saving him?” “Oh yes,” replied the third, “If someone else quickly mounts the horse, takes out the gun in the holster and shoots the horse dead, the young king will be saved. But anybody who knows this and tells the king will be turned to stone from their toes to knees.” Then the third raven said, “I know more still. Even if the horse is killed, the young king still won't keep his bride, for when they enter the palace together, they'll find a perfectly made bridal shirt lying in a bowl, looking as if woven of gold and silver, though it's nothing but sulfur and pitch. If he puts it on, it'll burn him to the quick and marrow.” To which the first asked, “Is there no way of saving him?” “Oh yes,” replies the third, “if someone takes hold of the shirt with gloves and throws it into the fire so that burns up, the king will be saved. But whoever knows this and tells him, will turn to stone from their knees to the heart.” To which the first said, “I know still more, even if the bridal shirt is burned up, still the king won't have his bride, for when the queen dances in the banquet hall after the wedding ceremony, she will turn pale and fall as if dead, and unless someone lifts her up and draws three drops of blood from her right breast and spits them out, she will surely die. But if anyone who knows tells the secret, their whole body will be turned to stone from top to toe.” Having spoken, the ravens alighted away. Faithful John had understood everything, and became quiet and sad, for if he kept from the king what he'd heard, misfortune would befall him, and if he told him, he himself would sacrifice his life. Finally, however, he said to himself, “I shall save my king, even if I perish.” When they arrived on the shore it happened as the ravens had predicted, a superb horse red is a fox came galloping up. “Well,” said the king, “it shall carry me to my palace,” and was about to mount it, but Faithful John got ahead of him, swung quickly onto the horse himself, drew the gun from the holster, and shot it dead. The other servants of the king, not very fond of Faithful John cried, “For shame! To kill a fine animal that was to carry the king to his palace!” The king however, replied, “Be still and leave him alone. He is my most faithful who knows for what good purpose he did it.” They entered the hall, and there was a bowl with a bridal shirt in it, looking as if it made of gold and silver. The king stepped up and was about to take hold of it, but Faithful John pushed him aside, seized it with gloves on, and quickly cast into the fireplace to burn up. The servants bemoaned the burning of the bridal shirt, but again the king said, “Who knows to what good purpose he did it! Leave him alone, he's my most faithful.”

Now the wedding was to be celebrated, and the queen bride entered the hall. Faithful John paid close attention, watching her face as she began the first dance. She turned pale and fell to the ground as if dead. He rushed to her quickly, lifted her and carried her into a chamber, laid her down, kelt, and sucked three drops of blood from her right breast and spat them out. She began to breathe again and recovered. The king, however, looking on, became angry, “Throw him into prison!” he shouted. The next morning, Faithful John was condemned to death and led to the gallows. There, about to be executed, he said, “Everyone condemned to die is allowed to say one last word before his end. Do I have this right too?” To which the king answered, “It will not be refused you.” Faithful John said, “I am condemned unjustly and have always been faithful to you,” and then told how he'd heard the ravens and was forced to save the king in the way in which he had. “My most Faithful John—Mercy—Mercy! Bring him down from the gallows!” But with the last word, Faithful John became stone. The king and queen were greatly grieved by this, the king lamenting, “Oh how I rewarded such loyalty!” He had the stone Faithful John placed in the palace, and whenever he looked at it, he'd weep. Time passed, the queen gave birth to twin princes, and who were joy to the king and queen. Then one day, when the queen was at church and the two children were playing beside their father, the king again looked sadly at stone Faithful John and sighed, “Oh, if only I could bring you back to life.” The stone spoke and said, “Yes, you can bring me back to life, but to do so you must sacrifice what you love.” The king exclaimed, “I’m willing to sacrifice everything!” The stone went on, “If, with your own hand, you cut off the heads of your children and anoint me with their blood, I'll come back to life.” The king was frightened, but thought of Faithful John's great loyalty which had saved him and the queen, drew his sword and with his own hand cut off his children's heads and anointed the stone with their blood, whereupon it came to life, and Faithful John stood before him, hail and hardy. “Your loyalty shall not remain unrewarded, now take the children's heads, put them in back in place, and anoint them with their blood.” The king did so and in an instant, the boys were whole again, skipping about and continuing to play as if nothing had happened. The king rejoiced greatly, and when he saw the queen coming, had Faithful John and the princes hide in a big cupboard. When the queen came in, the king asked her, “Did you pray at church?” She answered she did, “I prayed about Faithful John, and how he fell into such misfortune on our account.” Then he said, “Dear wife, we can bring him back to life, but it will cost us. We will have to sacrifice our boys.” The queen turned pale, and was frightened, but said, “We must, because of his great loyalty, we live.” The king was glad she thought as he had, stepped to the cupboard and unlocking it brought out the children and Faithful John, saying, “God be praised! He has disenchanted Faithful John and our children to have been given back to us!” He told her how it all happened, and they all lived happily ever after.

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9x12" gouache/bristol

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Proof of spirit

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chap 3 excerpt

    The main question for human beings is whether we were created or evolved. If you believe the former, there are explanations for it, and if you believe the latter, there are explanations for it too. When most people speak of god it’s based on the idea of omniscience—of knowing all things. An old poem once described looking down from above, that the greatest experience of all is to stand on the highest vantage of truth—to look upon a situation and see it as it is. The more you know, the higher in the heavens of truth you ascend, the more god you become—or in religious terms—the closer to god you become. That’s why politicians are treated as gods, because presumably, through intelligence briefings, they’re in possession of much more knowledge about what human existence actually is.

    I was brought up in a family of monotheists—people who believe the things described in the King James version of the Bible—that there’s a god in the heavens looking down, who created Adam and Eve, who ate fruit they weren’t supposed to, and got booted from a garden, cast out to live by the sweat of their brow. Not only do Judeo-Christians know this version of events, but Muslims too, because the exact story is part of the Koran. In other words, roughly half the people on Earth know the Creation Story as recounted by monotheist religion.

    In sharp contrast is the Theory of Evolution—single cell organisms evolved into sea animals, which moved onto land, and evolved into apes. For millions of years the physical appearances of these apes remained basically the same until an inexplicable progression occurred where brain mass increased fifty-percent, and our faces became flat while slipping into a hairless, modern anatomy. According to paleontology and archaeology it all happened in the blink of an eye—suddenly we looked like movie stars compared to millions of years of monkey-ness. The natural selection and random mutation required for us to have become what we are today—from what we were, in so short a period—hasn’t ever been explained. It doesn’t mean science is invalid, just that the theory of how we went from monkey to movie star so immediately, is a mystery, and requires faith. The Creation Story and Theory of Evolution both require faith. Whether you believe one or the other, or believe something else altogether, knowing that these two fundamental world-views each require faith.

    Most people who know Hebrew accounts in the Old Testament know they took place in the Tigris/Euphrates river valley—Mesopotamia, the cradle of civilization—and in the 1850s waves of scientific expeditions conducted excavations there—British, French, and German. They brought back tens of thousands of tablets with Sumerian cuneiform writing—script composed of triangles and arrow points pressed and fired into clay. Tens of thousands of these tablets rest in basements of the finest museums around the world to this day.

    Also sitting in a museum is a popular attraction known as the Rosetta Stone; forty-five inches tall, a smooth surface containing three different scripts all saying the same thing; discovering all three in the same place enabled us to unlock the cosmology and records of the Egyptians. Lesser known, but arguably more important, is the Behistun Inscription—fifty feet high, eighty feet across, carved 300 feet up on a limestone cliff, it first came to the attention of the western world in the 1600s when an Englishman on a diplomatic mission through Iran spotted it. Just like the Rosetta Stone it has three different scripts all saying the same thing. One of the three is the Akkadian, root of all Semitic languages, including Hebrew. With the Behistun Inscription we were finally able to unlock the information found on all those fired clay tablets uncovered by Europeans. Up until about the 1880s Judeo-Christians believed the Creation Story originated through oral tradition amongst rabbis, but in fact, Adam and Eve being banished from Eden, the Tower of Babel, Noah and the Flood—all that and more—are spelled out on the fired, clay tablets. Originally and unedited the Creation Story reads as science-fiction. They record an aristocracy of beings who ruled over a group of lesser beings, and they all splashed down here on Earth a half million years ago and created humans. Many today know this due to cable TV programs and the idea of Ancient Aliens—the idea that another race of beings visited here.

    As it happened, in this original version of the Creation Story, the captain and chief science officer were brothers—Enlil was commander and Enki was chief science officer. Enlil and Enki were their names in the original version but have altered over the centuries. Through time Enlil and Enki became Zeus and Prometheus, and to Judeo-Christians, Yahweh and Lucifer, and to the Muslims, Allah and Satan. Enlil outranks Enki, just like Zeus outranks Prometheus, Yahweh outranks Lucifer, and Allah outranks Satan.

    At some point Enlil and Enki decide to create a worker—“Let us create them in our image….” The first male and female—Adam and Eve—spent each day in a garden with the lesser gods—angels—and at an appointed hour—as the monotheists tell us—fly up to heaven—Enlil’s ship orbiting Earth—while Adam and Eve are left alone, each given a portion of the garden to watch over. This went on for some time until one day Enki stayed behind at that appointed hour everyone went to hang with Enlil, and finds Eve. “Is it true Enlil said you shall not taste of every tree in the garden?” he asks.

    “We can eat of others, but the one our lord said we shall not taste, or we will die.”

    “You will not die, your lord knows that on the day you taste of it you shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

    Later that evening, Enlil comes down to Earth to take a stroll in the garden and Adam and Eve hide. He asks why they’re hiding and they say they’re ashamed because they went against his command and tasted the fruit. Enlil says that because they can now distinguish between good and evil, they must be banished from the garden, telling the lesser gods, “For behold, if they eat of the Tree of Life, they will live and endure forever.”

    Sometime after we leave the garden and begin to multiply, some of the lesser gods take an interest and start getting it on with us. “The sons of God saw the daughters of men were fair….” Enlil then ruled the experiment terminated, humanity exterminated, and all the lesser gods not to alert humans to a pending, catastrophic event. Enki found the most righteous guy he could and told him he had to get his family together and build a boat.

    The question comes to mind—why would the Enlil character create a worker, tell it not to eat something, then leave it alone with that very thing each day? Isn’t placing newly minted humans in proximity to something that would alter their consciousness tantamount to child endangerment? And isn’t it an injustice to punish Adam and Eve when they had no intention of going against the original command to begin with? They were blissed-out, enjoying the garden—it was Enki bringing up the idea that things went wrong. And it appears Enlil not only sets up the temptation, but blames the victim when they fall. In addition to that, the narrative shows it was Enlil who lies because eating of the tree did not kill us, it only made some gods jealous and fearful we might become immortal too, maybe even more righteous than our creators.

    The Akkadians and cultures that followed, have all written that the Sumerians were the first writers. In other words, unless you believe those civilizations lied about where they learned to write, and/or also believe the Sumerians lied about where they learned to write, then you realize the historic record, in the form of fired clay tablets, and a giant panel carved on a limestone cliff, shows that at some point in the past, humans were taught to write. Which means we’re not alone and didn’t get where we are as a civilization without intervention by another specie of sapient beings. The question is: are they still here or gone? If still here, evidence shows they’re keeping a political charade in place in order to obscure their presence. If they’re gone, then maybe another race of sapient beings happened upon us, and they’re keeping the political charade in place in order. Or, lastly, if they’re gone and no other specie has happened upon us, then maybe the current state of affairs is nothing but a class of humans keeping the political charade in place, and the rest of us enslaved.

    Supposing we were freed from the charade, would humans not one day reach a mastery of the physical universe and travel the stars? Would we not one day master genetics and live lives hundreds of thousands of years long? Of course we would. However many different forms of sapience in the cosmos—the ability to remember the past, consider the present, and imagine the future—to know, reflect and create—means all sapient species have a seat at the same table.

    So why is the Enlil character jealous? Why care if humans know the difference between good and evil? Why care if humans tasted of the Tree of Life and lived longer? Is there an actual threat or is it a form of cosmic pettiness? Maybe Earth really is unique in its visual appeal, special in its climes, and alongside other planets, a paradise, and there’s only so much room, and the creators need to keep a lid on things? If we created a worker for ourselves, and there were limited resources, we would probably argue it’s our right to prevent our worker from overcoming us—the same way if you had pets, you wouldn’t let them eat you out of house and home.

    The problem with that excuse as to why our creators have to keep a lid on us—is framed by the history of energy, figured out fair and square by Nikola Tesla—tapping lay lines of Earth and manipulating vibrational frequencies into unlimited electrical energy. The investors put Edison in place. If you go to archives of national newspapers and periodicals you realize this is actually the truth. That when Tesla died in The New Yorker Hotel, that agents of the US Government removed all his papers and they’ve never seen the light of day since. Whether or not you believe that’s true, for the sake of argument, let’s say it is—that we have access to free, unlimited energy but are being denied it by the political charade in place—it would mean those who created us are being petty for some reason.

    Is Enlil/Yahweh/Allah sapience jealous? Why do humans have pets? To provide multiple benefits. If we humans were left to our own devices, and began to travel the cosmos and created something to comfort us, and found it to our advantage to let it believe certain things, while denying it knowledge of others things, would that be bad? In this context, are good and bad completely subjective? Or is there something which distinguishes and determines, objectively, what is good or bad?