The King & The Shaman

The King & The Shaman

In a place before there were places and in a time before times had names, there was a village. The village was most favorably situated in a lush valley between two towering mountains. There was food, water, animals, shelter and all manner of things delightful for those who called the village home.

Within the village lived a King and he ruled with kindness and mercy as had all his ancestors before him, placing nothing before the well-being of his people.

Also in the village, there lived a Shaman. And he, like his father and his father's fathers before him, filled the gap between the earthly powers of the King and the great mysteries of the village's gods.

All was well with the village until one spring when the rain stopped falling.

The dry spring yielded to a parched summer, and still no rain fell from the sky. The King was distressed and in the midst of his worry he naturally summoned the Shaman to his quarters. When the King had said all that he'd needed to say, he dismissed the Shaman who returned to his quarters -- now equally distressed.

Upon returning to his hut, Third Wife placed the Shaman's dinner before him but he was unable to eat.

"Are you ill husband?" she asked.

The Shaman replied, "No, I am not ill but I find that I have no appetite."

"Where has your appetite gone my husband?"

"I left it in the King's quarters." he replied.

Third Wife asked puzzled, "What need does the King have for your appetite?"

"Its not my appetite which he needs but rain." he answered. "The Village needs rain. The King believes the gods have forgotten to send rain and he wants me to say a prayer to remind them."

She replied, "He's right, the wells run low and water is hard to find. It would be well for you to do this thing for the King. Certainly he would not make such a request unless the need were real."

"It is not the King's need that I doubt Third Wife."

"Then what is it that troubles you my husband?"

The Shaman folded his hands across his lap and hung his head. Then after a time, he looked up and smiled at Third Wife and said, "It is merely that I must remember the special rain prayers. Only this and nothing more."

Third Wife smiled back at her husband. "I am glad. You will ask the gods for rain and then when it rains, the King will reward you, will he not?"

"Yes, a reward is customary." he offered.

"Then what will you ask for?" Third Wife inquired.

The Shaman smiled at the woman and said, "Perhaps, I shall let you make the request for me."

Third Wife, held her head down to conceal her smile. "I would like that very much."

Early the next morning, the Shaman and Third Wife left their quarters and found a small gathering of villagers standing outside waiting for them. When they saw him emerge from his hut they cheered and opened a path before him. Third Wife walked beside him and the villagers followed them both to a clearing outside of the village.

The Shaman left Third Wife and the villagers at the edge of the settlement and walked alone out into the wide dry, dusty clearing. He walked far into the field and when he'd considered that he'd reached the center, he spun to the north and faced square-on one of the two sheltering mountains which formed their valley. He held up his hands as if to lift the mountain up off of the earth and then began chanting. He sang the songs of his people, songs he'd learned from his grandfather many years before he came to understand the words. He called the mountain by its divine name, and in so doing assumed a power on par with that of the gods who had named all of creation. He recited the story of the mountain's creation, naming the original animals who were given it as their earthly home. Then he turned south to face the other peak and repeated the same call, speaking the litany of names, places and events as if reciting his own name.

When he felt he'd captured the attention of the mountain gods, he began dancing and never again looked directly at the mountains. He, instead turned his attention to his feet and the brown dust that had begun floating up from the ground. He stepped in each direction, lunging and ducking, twisting and turning. He danced as if he were fighting a powerful opponent, wary of being hit but neither cowering in fear. It was a dance taught to him by his father, and a dance seldom done for its purpose was to anger the gods into action by challenging their power.

Before the sun was directly overhead, he stopped. The dust he'd stirred up from the field stuck to the sweat on his legs and chest and when he walked back to the villagers he appeared to them as if he'd just done battle with some great dust encrusted beast from under the ground. As he approached, the people again cheered and Third Wife ran out to meet him offering him water and wrapping her arms about his waist. They called out their thanks to him as the couple walked back to their hut. Third Wife held her gaze down to hide the growing smile across her face.

It did not rain the rest of that day.

Nor did it rain the next day or the day after that.

And so, in due course, the King again summoned the Shaman to his quarters.

The King's son led the Shaman out of the afternoon sun and into the cool shadows of the King's quarters.

As the Shaman's eyes adjusted to the light he saw a young woman lying on a bed in the corner and the King caressing her.

"You summoned me your Excellency?" the Shaman spoke.

The King stood up from the woman and walked to the Shaman directing him to a small room where they could speak in confidence.

When they were well secluded the King asked, "You are well old friend?"

"Yes, Excellency, I am."

"Good, good." the King said, patting the Shaman on the knee. That the King, being much younger than the Shaman, would choose to touch him as an elder might touch a youth further enforced the Shaman's deep held opinion that the King, in spite of his noble birth and best intentions was largely ignorant of human nature.

"I have heard from the people that you offered up a most convincing prayer" the King said as he sat down across from the Shaman.

"That was my opinion as well, your Excellency, but it seems the gods are not yet sufficiently convinced."

The King nodded in agreement.

"What is wrong with the girl?" the Shaman asked.

"I don't know, she's not feeling well. Perhaps it is the heat, perhaps it is sadness, perhaps its something else."

"She is very pretty?" the Shaman offered.

"Ah, she is isn't she?" the King answered. "Would you like to take her?"

"His Excellency is most generous but I don't think --"

"Take her old friend, I know you will treat her well."

"But your Highness -- "

"What would you have me to offer you? Have I not treated you and your family well these years?"

"Yes you have, as you have treated everyone. This matter with the rain -- I'm afraid its not a simple matter of exchanging presents your Excellency."

At this, the King stood up and clasped his hands behind him beginning to pace. He said, "Then you will please tell me what it is a simple matter of. My people will die from thirst this summer without rain. It seems a very simple matter to me."

"Your Excellency it will rain, I assure you --"

The King interrupted, "Of this I too am certain. However, if the rains fall on our dead bodies, then I will have failed my people and you, old friend, will have failed me."

The Shaman could say nothing.

The King turned his back to the Shaman looking outside the room. "You and I are prisoners of our birth. I am bound to the village and you are bound to me." he said, turning his attention back to the Shaman. The King approached and continued, "I have not been a perfect King, I make no secret of that. There are many things I do not know and I have tastes which some in the village find objectionable -- such is my life. But of one thing I am certain, that the gods have entrusted me as they trusted my fathers before me with the well being of this village. I believe success on this matter will bring so sweet a fragrance as to remove the stench of my other shortcomings. And so, old friend, I must ask you again to see to this matter, your village needs you and above that I need you."

The Shaman stood up and bowed his head to the King and left.

He walked out of the King's quarters, back through the middle of the village and past his own quarters. He continued walking until he arrived at a hut just on the outside of the others and entered without bothering to knock or announcing his presence. Inside, he found First Wife sitting on a soft straw mat weaving a basket from dried plant stems. She did not take notice of his entrance.

The Shaman looked around at the simple and well organized quarters and demanded, "Where is my son and why is there no food on the table?"

She placed her work on the floor and looked up to the man and replied, "Our son is out with his playmates and he has already eaten as have I. If I knew you were coming, we would have gladly waited to eat with you." She stood up, smiled warmly and said, "Your meeting with the King, it went well?"

"How did you know I met with the King?" he asked, the question having taken him by surprise.

She said, "Our village is small and secrets are seldom secret for very long."

"Then, you know what my meeting with the King was about?" he asked.

"Yes -- I do." she said and walked out the entrance following the wall to her right until she again emerged in the entrance this time coming from the left. She pulled two small ripe red bananas from a bunch hanging from a hook and offered him one. He accepted it, peeled it and enjoyed the taste.

"This is the second time he has spoken to me about this rain." the Shaman said.

"And what did you tell him this time?"

"The same thing I always tell him, that I shall do as he asked."

"And you shall." she said.

"But how do you know this when I am in such great doubt?"

"Because it will rain as it always has. When it rains, you will be praised and things will be as they were before." she answered.

"I know this, the King himself knows this but this time it is different. The village cannot wait months for the gods to make up their minds. The water is low and planting can't be delayed much longer. We need rain -- we need rain today and this is precisely what the King is asking me to do."

"So make it rain, and please the King." First Wife said.

"And how shall I do that First Wife?" he asked.

She answered, "The same way you always do, by rolling around in the dirt and shouting obscenities to the sky."

The Shaman could not resist laughing, "I do not shout obscenities at the sky, I recite the ancient prayers my fathers. You disappoint me First Wife, you should be more respectful of the traditions of our village, even if you weren't born here."

She replied, "Well if you are so disappointed at me, why are you here?" and then joined him in laughter.

When he'd finished his banana, First Wife held out her hand and she took the peel and placed it with hers and disposed of them both.

The Shaman asked, "How is the boy? I haven't seen him."

"He grows taller and asks of you often but has been unable to find you."

"Well, that is because a Shaman's duties are seldom complete. There are sick to heal, and evil spirits to cast out --"

"And rain gods to appease." she interrupted.

He inhaled deeply and agreed. He said, "I've told you this before, my words, any man's words are powerless to effect the rain, the wind, the sun or any other thing besides his own actions. And now, the King is depending my MY words to save his village. This is ignorance, madness, a madness which has persisted far too long. I believe the greatest threat to the King's people is the King's ignorance."

First Wife leaned in close and whispered, "Those are dangerous words to think and even more so to speak."

The Shaman was surprised at First Wife's sudden rebuke but knew that her words were true.

First Wife stole a glance outside a nearby window and then said, "You are the Shaman, you've allowed him to believe in you and now when he has no where else to turn, you cannot simply admit you have somehow magically lost power that you now say you never had."

"But, if I have no power, whether I admit it or not, the end will be the same so why not dispense with this fiction once and for all?"

First Wife's eyes narrowed and she replied, "And then what? What will become of you? Where would you live? Tell me husband, how would you spend your first night under the stars? What words will you whisper into the ears of the jackals as their jaws clamp tight on your throat?"

"I shall not have to worry about that," he answered, "because you First Wife will be there and wake me before the jackals are near" he answered.

"Why would you take me? Why not Third Wife, she'd like nothing more than to stand watch over you and admire you in your sleep."

"Because, unfortunately she would also fall asleep and then we would both wake up dead. Come with me, we can create another life for ourselves."

"No. I cannot."

"But you know my words are powerless. I am bound by my birth, but at least I admit this, the King actually believes the gods have appointed him as our sovereign. I should like to one day share my truth with him."

First Wife led the Shaman to the entrance and said in parting, "On the day that you share your truth with him, be prepared for him to share his truth with you. I don't think you will like what his truth will reveal."

As he left, the Shaman glanced quickly at First Wife and noted that her face bore no signs of levity.

The next morning The Shaman and Third Wife awoke and again found the villagers waiting outside of their quarters. This time there were more gathered than before but this morning, they did not clap or cheer his arrival. They were sullen and dark and holding buckets and all manner of items to hold water.

Third Wife carried a large item bundled in an ornate blanket. She walked behind as the Shaman stalked out toward the clearing as before.

When he arrived, he turned around and extended his arms towards Third Wife. She handed over the bundle and the Shaman hefted the bulk of the blanket and its contents up high above his head for all the villagers to see. When a semi-circle had formed around him, he lowered the object to the ground, folded back the fabric and revealed an ancient headdress festooned with long vibrantly colored feathers shooting off at wide angles. The shape and size of the headdress was clearly intended to create for the wearer the impression that his head was larger than normal and that therefore, its wearer must be divine. At the sight of the headdress, the villagers stood transfixed and looked upon the Shaman with new appreciation for in their greatest hour of need, their own beloved Shaman withheld nothing in his pleadings with the gods.

After placing the headpiece upon his head, the Shaman again walked out to the center of the clearing. When he felt that he was sufficiently removed from the crowd, he removed his tunic and threw it on the ground at his feet. Then, he lowered his head and slipped off the worn leather strap which held his family fetish and placed it upon his tunic. Standing naked before the gods, he dropped to his knees, raised his arms up to a cloudless blue sky and began to sing in a low, tragic voice. He recited a prayer normally sung by a mother when her child dies unborn. It was a song lamenting of tragic unfulfilled promises, a song of dreams and hopes shattered by gods indifferent to the sufferings of a pregnant woman struggling to give birth to a child already dead in her womb. He sang slowly with deliberate enunciation on every syllable as if he were a scared little boy reciting it before a stern father, fearful of mis-speaking a single word.

When he stopped singing, the sun had moved well past noon and there were streaks of dried salt from the tears he had shed over the sorrow of his people. He felt as if he'd held all the hopes of his village in his heart like unopened blooms only to have them annihilated by one last careless Spring frost.

As he approached the villagers, they looked on as the nearly naked Shaman approached them, walked in front of them and then left them behind.

It did not rain for the remainder of the day, nor did it rain the next day or the day after that.

The heat from the heart of Summer continued unabated and the villagers questioned how it could be that their beloved King and their beloved Shaman would let such hardships take place in their village.

The Shaman, having sequestered himself in his hut, never was seen outside of his quarters. For him, the sun and sky were a scourge reminding him that he was weak and corrupt -- not because his words held no sway over the rain or that he knew he was powerless over them but because that he, after having learned the truth, rather than reveal it to the King, preferred the lie.

And so it came to be that late one night, the King paid a visit to the Shaman. He walked in and saw the Shaman lying on a straw mattress on the ground. The King walked over to where the Shaman lie and roughly shook him by the shoulder.

The Shaman rolled over taking immediate notice of who it was that was waking him and sat up.

"I haven't seen you for days old friend." The King announced.

The Shaman answered, "That's true your Excellency but does the king need to wake his subject from sleep to tell him so?"

The King exhaled deeply. "You would do well to remember to whom you speak."

The Shaman stared at the King and fell back on to his mattress draping his arm across his forehead.

"It's not enough that I come to your quarters to have a word with you but now even you disrespect my authority" the King said.

The Shaman did not move.

"I need to speak with you and what I have to say you may not find to your liking. I do not need to tell you that so far you have failed to persuade the gods of our condition."

"No, you don't" said the Shaman.

"I've given great thought to our problem and I believe this matter requires my personal attention."

"His Majesty no longer considers his subject fit for his post?"

"My father placed great trust in your father as I have placed great trust in you. But for whatever reason, we find ourselves in a predicament where traditional remedies appear to have lost their potency, and so it seems to me that perhaps we have failed to properly understand this problem."

"Your Excellency, the problem could be no clearer -- we need rain."

"That is precisely my point. The lack of rain may not be the problem but itself may be the result of another problem and it is this primary problem which we must resolve before the rain will return."

The Shaman sat back up in his bed, all of his attention focused on the King, he said, "And would his Majesty know what this deeper problem might be?"

The King stared at the Shaman but offered nothing further.

The Shaman said, "His Excellency believes that the gods ignore me?"

"What other explanation is there?" the King answered.

The Shaman said, "And so what would his Majesty have me to do?"

The King did not answer. For a time his mind was filled with the memories of his solitary childhood and a harsh father who would not permit his son to play with the children of the village. "There will come a time," his father had told him, "when you will sit on my throne and it would be better for our village if you were free of childhood companions who might seek favors from you at the expense of others." As he replayed his father's words, he wondered if his friendship with the Shaman had already too long clouded his judgement.

"Perhaps, we should prepare to anoint a new Shaman." the King answered.

"So - I am to be replaced?" the Shaman asked already knowing the answer.

The King replied, "I can see no alternative -- the village has no need for two Shamans. I'm sorry old friend." and began to leave.

The Shaman said, "But his Majesty has not yet explained who the new Shaman will be."

"Ah, that is a simple matter," said the King, "for if it does not rain by sundown tomorrow, you shall be killed and with your blood I shall be anointed the new Shaman. Good night old friend and for your sake, I pray that your dreams are of rain."

The next morning the Shaman awoke, dressed and left his quarters -- alone.

The residents of the village restricted their normal activity to those which were necessities. The King remained in his quarters.

Morning turned into afternoon and the heat of the day was a further reminder to all the residents how desperate their situation was.

In the late afternoon a village elder entered unannounced in the King's quarters. He said, "May I have a word with his Majesty?"

From a secluded room the King replied, "No. I am ill, please return tomorrow."

"Perhaps if his Majesty would but speak with me, he may find that my words may offer relief."

The King, now impatient said, "No, that would be impossible, my sickness is beyond words. Leave me."

So the elder left.

A short time later, First Wife stopped by the King's quarters and called in, "If his Majesty is ill, perhaps fresh air would do him well."

The King shouted back from within, "I am beyond help, leave me."

"But his Majesty, will miss what appears to be a magnificent sunset." First Wife said.

"I am certainly in no mood to see the sunset First Wife, please leave me." he replied.

She said, "Then I suppose it is as the others have said, that the King has lost all faith in his Shaman."

"No First Wife, that's not true because if I had no faith in him, he would already be dead." answered the King.

First Wife said, "You say you have not lost faith in him, yet you are afraid to look upon the sunset."

The King did not reply. After a time, she began to walk away.

And then from behind her she heard, "First Wife, show me this sunset." and turned around to see the King approaching.

They walked through the center of the village and saw many of the residents standing outside of their huts, staring to the north. As they approached the edge of the village, even more residents stood around huddled staring at the northern mountain. The King gently parted the people who readily yielded to his touch.

After First Wife and the King passed through the crowd, they arrived at the clearing and they saw the Shaman standing far away with his back to the crowd, facing the base of the mountain to the north. Up in the sky monstrous grey and black clouds swirled about the crown of the peak obscuring it completely except for occasional flashes of lightning and claps of thunder. The clouds slowly moved toward the village and all the residents stood immobile staring up at the sky.

The King walked to the Shaman and as he did so, small water droplets began falling. The Shaman remained motionless with his back to the approaching King, his head thrown back looking up at the mountain and his arms extended out before him.

When the King was near to the Shaman, an invisible barrier in the sky was crossed and sweet rain began falling from the sky upon the hot dessicated earth.

The King placed his hands upon the shoulders of the Shaman and said, "Well done old friend, well done."

The Shaman turned around and a puzzled look was on his face.

The King said, "Now is the time for happiness old friend, what still troubles you?"

The Shaman looked at the King and answered, "Your Majesty, I know that you believe that it is because of my words that this rain now falls, but I must tell you what I've known for years: that my words, no man's words have in them the power to influence the rain. I am pleased and relieved that this rain now falls but you must understand that my words had nothing to do with it."

The King smiled and wiped the rain from his face, "Old friend, never have you spoken truer words. I've known many years that your words were powerless. But this day, because you had the faith to hold forth an empty bucket before an empty sky, the gods have honored your faith and sent you rain. If we don't expect our prayers to be answered, why should the gods even bother listening to them."