The young king was alone in his beautiful room in the palace. He was only sixteen years
old and he was wild-eyed, like an animal of the forest. The old king’s servants found him in
the forest. At that time, the boy believed that he was the son of a poor forester. He was
brought up by the forester. But now he knew that he was the child of the old king’s
daughter.
The king’s daughter married an ordinary man, a painter. He painted pictures on the
walls of the great church where kings were crowned. But one day he disappeared, leaving
the pictures unfinished. The week-old baby was taken away from his mother’s side while
she slept. The forester and his wife had no children, and the baby was given to them.
The princess died.
When the old king was dying, he said, ‘My heart is heavy because I have done a terrible
thing. The crown must not pass away from my family. Bring my daughters child from the
forest. He will be king after me.’
When the boy was brought to the palace, he showed a strange love for beautiful
things. He gave a happy cry when he saw his fine new clothes and rich jewels. He quickly
took off the old coat that he wore in the forest. He walked through the palace from room to
room, looking at everything.
A rich man came to see the young king one day. He found him on his knees in front of
a beautiful picture from Venice. On another day, people searched for the king for hours.
They finally found him in a little room at the north end of the palace. He was looking at the
shape of the Greek god Adonis, cut in a jewel.
In bed that night, the young king thought about the beautiful clothes for his special day
— a gold coat and a jewelled crown. People were working day and night to finish the
clothes in time. The young king imagined himself in the great church, dressed as a king.
His eyes closed, and he fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamed.
He dreamed that he was standing in a long, low room. Around him were cloth-makers at
work. Only a little daylight came in through narrow windows. The men’s faces were pale
and thin. Little children were working with them. They were weak and hungry and their little
hands shook.
The young king went to watch one of the cloth-makers. The man looked at him angrily.
‘Why are you watching me?’ he said. ‘Did our employer ask you to watch us?’
‘Who is your employer?’ asked the young king.
‘He is a man like me. But unlike me, he wears fine clothes. And while I am hungry, he
has too much food.’
‘You are not a slave,’ said the young king. ‘Your employer does not own you.’
‘The rich make the poor their slaves,’ answered the cloth-maker. ‘We must work to
live. But they pay us too little and we die. Men call us free, but we are slaves. But these
things do not matter to you. You are not one of us: your face is too happy.’