The Boy Who Asked

The Boy Who Asked

  By Jacob Magnus

  Copyright 2011 Jacob Magnus

  Once upon a time, and a fair time it was, there lived a sad little boy. This boy was curious about many things, and he asked everyone he met many questions. Now this boy lived on a farm, and so he asked questions of his father as he helped to till the soil, and his mother, as he helped her fetch a pail of milk, and he asked questions of the other little boys he played with in the village. But the boy asked so many questions, one more after one more, that soon nobody wanted to play with him. He felt lonely, and sad. So he decided that the most important question was how to have a friend.

  He went to his mother, and he asked her, "mother, how can I have a friend?"

  His mother wrinkled her brow, and smiled, and said, "to have a friend, you must be a friend."

  So the boy went away, turning it over in his head. Mother sure knows something, he thought, but it doesn't sound very helpful. Maybe father has a better idea. He went to his father, and he asked him, "father, how can I have a friend?"

  His father grunted, and tousled his hair. "To be a friend, my son, you must be a friend."

  So the boy went away, very pleased, because both of his parents said the same thing, so it had to be true. But then he had a thought, what if neither of them knows, so they just said whatever came into their heads? As soon as he thought that, he could get no rest, nor eat his dinner, and he had no sleep that night.

  The next day, he went into the village, and found the oldest man in the village, Old Bert. He knew that everyone in the village always looked to Old Bert for answers whenever they couldn't solve their problems, and Old Bert always had an answer, because he had been alive since the beginning of the world, and had seen everything that had happened there or anywhere.

  He went up to Old Bert, and asked, "Old Bert, how can I have a friend?"

  Old Bert put down his pipe, and ran a wrinkled old hand through his snow white beard, and said, "many a summer I've seen, young fellow, and many's the thing I know. To have a friend, you must be a friend."

  The little boy thanks Old Bert, and rushed home, because he was very hungry, and now he had an answer, he felt ready for his breakfast. But little by little, he slowed down, until he was almost going backwards, for in his mind he began to doubt what his mother, and his father, and Old Bert had said. Perhaps they none of them knew, and only shared the same words to hide their ignorance.

  Well, there was nothing for it, but the little boy would go to the city, and search out the king, because, as he told himself, "if anyone knows anything, it must be the king." So he bade farewell to his mother, and his father, and his farm, and his village, and he walked to the city. It was a long way, and a hard walk, and the boy was tired and hungry, but he kept walking, because he did so want an answer.

  When the boy got to the city, he went to the palace, and a fine palace it was, with marble walls, and crystal windows, and many proud soldiers standing guard. The boy felt a bit nervous about going inside, but he told himself he'd come so far, he'd be a fool to turn back. So he went inside, and the guards didn't mind him a bit. He found his way into the king's great hall, where a crowd of visitors lined up to greet the king. Indeed, such a many people had come that it looked the day and half the night would pass before they had finished their business, and that wouldn't do, so the boy slipped and sneaked forward through the press, until he popped out, right in front of the king.

  The king was tall and noble, with a neat brown beard and fine red robes, and a gold circlet on his brow. He looked down at the little boy, and his face was stern, but his eyes twinkled. "What! Have you come from afar to bring news of a distant court?" The nobles and guests laughed, because the little boy was clearly a farmer's son, with rough clothes and hay in his hair. But the boy was not dismayed.

  "If you please, your majesty, you must be the wisest man in the land, for you must rule the land, and the land's cares are your cares."

  The king was delighted. "My dear boy, you are no fool. Your words please me, and I would give you a gift. Ask anything of me, and it shall be yours." The king was known for his generosity, but this promise sent a stir of shock through the court.

  "Thank you for your gift, your majesty. There is one thing I want more than anything."

  "Name it."

  "Please, your majesty, share your wisdom, and tell me how to have a friend."

  The king laughed. "You need no such lesson. Come, tell me what you wish." But the boy persisted, and eventually the king agreed to give him what he asked, though he thought it a strange request. "My good young subject," he said. "To have a friend, you must be a friend. And since you have been a friend to me, and lightened my cares, tonight you will stay here in my palace, dine on the finest food, and sleep on a bed fit for a prince."

  The little boy was very grateful, and very pleased, and he enjoyed his meal, but before he went to bed, he saw the king go to chapel, where he knelt down, and prayed, and had a blessing of the priest. The little boy went to bed, but his mind would not rest, and sleep would not come, so full of wonder was he at the sight of the king at chapel. And he thought thus, the king is a very fine man, but perhaps he is still only a man. He kneels in chapel, and takes the blessing from the priest. Perhaps the priest knows more than he.

  The little boy got no sleep, so anxious was he. When dawn's rays lit his bedchamber, they found his still fretting over his thoughts. There was nothig for it, but he had to go to the chapel, and find the priest. And the priest marvelled to see the little boy come to him so early in the day. "My son, what troubles you?"

  "Can you see I am troubled, father?"

  "That I can," said the priest, for the boy's eyes were red, and dark shadows lay beneath them. But the boy did not know this, and thought the priest had special powers.

  "Can you answer my question, father?" The priest bade him ask, and the boy said, "how can I have a friend?"

  "My son, that is something all men wish for. To have a friend, you must be a friend."

  The boy went away, and peace came into his heart, and he slept a few hours in that fine bed, before going home to his family. But as he roused himself to leave the palace, and go back to his village, and his farm, and his mother and father, he passed by the chapel once again, and there what did he see, but the priest on his knees before the altar, deep in prayer.

  The sight troubled the little boy, for he asked himself, what, does the priest have his words from God, or does he know them himself? He shook his head, for he knew at once that he could never be sure, no never, until he had asked his question of God.

  In that land of fields and farms, there was a rumour, and men knew it well, that those who lived in the distant high mountains were the closest of all men to God, and could hear him best. The little boy heard this rumour, and he made up his mind never to go home, no never, until he had been to the high mountains, and heard the answer of God.

  So off he went, with no food, and little clothing, and no guide but the distant peaks on the horizon. He walked all day, and he slept in the shade of a tree by night, and he walked again the next day. He drank water from rivers and streams, and ate what nuts and fruits he could find in the trees, and eventually he met up with a wagon train on its way to trade in the towns at the foot of the high mountains. He rode with them for much of the way, anf they told stories of the high mountains, but he never spoke of his quest. At last he arrived at the foot of the high mountains, and, as he looked up at the towering heights above, his heart quaked, but he set his jaw, and began to walk his way up.

  Many days passed, and he grew thinner and thinner, and the air got colder and colder, and still he toiled his way up the mountains. At last, he came to a high flat place, marked by great white stones that m
en called the Giant's Teeth, so he had heard from the traders. And this was the place where men had spoken to God, and heard his voice, so they had told him. At last, he had reached his journey's end.

  He stood in the middle of the high flat place, and asked his question of the heavens. He asked it all day, and he asked it all night, and he asked it all day again. He asked it until his throat became raw, and his voice faded to a husky whisper, until his legs would not hold him, until his vision blurred, and he forgot everything, even his own name.

  In the middle of the night, he looked up from where he lay, up at the dark sky and the thousand twinkling stars, and he asked it once more. And the sky split. A great light shone forth in the middle of the sky, like the sun had woken in the night. He saw the light, and then he heard the voice of God, a thunderous raw and a stellar melody, a sound at once so full of beauty that he wept, and so overwhelming that he shrank to a little ball. The light and the sound were terrible and wonderful, but he could not understand. At last, he passed into a deep sleep.

  When he woke, he found himself lying in a simple bed in a small stone room, with a bowl of steaming broth on a table nearby. He rose up, and ate a little broth, and then fell back to sleep. After a week, he had recovered, and came to know the monks who had found him on the mountain, and rescued him. They asked him many questions, and he told them his story, and they brought him before the abbot.

  The abbot was old, and tanned by the sun, and his eyes gleamed. He listened to the boy's story, and then he smiled. The little boy looked up at him, and tears came to his eyes. "God spoke to me, sir, I heard his voice...but I do not know what he said. Why? Why did he hide his wisdom from me?"

  The old abbot sighed, and looked very sad. "My son, you hear and do not hear," he said. "If you could not hear your mother and your father, how could you hear God?"

  Now some men say the little boy returned to his family, where he was greeted with tears and joy, and he raised a family, and worked the land, and nevermore troubled people with his questions. But others say he stayed at the monastery in the high mountains, and in time became a monk, and then an abbot, famous across the world for his wisdom.

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  About the Author

  Jacob Magnus lives in South Korea with his girlfriend’s dog. He enjoys travel, and practises the Korean sword art of Gumdo. His favourite game is Deus Ex.