“Mr. Prime Minister,” interrupted Matt, “enough of all this hot air. That’s not the point. The point is you want to run the country and I’m supposed to act like a porcelain doll. And so I say, blast it with a hundred thousand bombs! I won’t have it.”
“Your Royal Highness—”
“Enough. I won’t have it, and that’s that. I am the king, and I’m going to stay the king.”
“I would like the floor,” said the Minister of Justice.
“Fine, just keep it short.”
“According to the law, supplement 5 to paragraph 777,555, book XII, volume 814 of the book of laws and regulations, on page 5, paragraph 14, we find: ‘If the successor to the throne has not completed his twentieth year—’”
“Mr. Minister of Justice, I don’t care about that.”
“I see. Your Royal Highness wishes to violate the law. I am prepared to cite you the laws which deal with such violations. Numbers 105 and 486.”
“Mr. Minister of Justice, I don’t care about that.”
“And there’s a law for that, too. ‘If the king treats the law lightly, paragraphs number—’”
“Will you stop plaguing me, you pest!”
“There’s a law for that, too. ‘In case of an outbreak of plague or cholera—’”
His patience exhausted, Matt clapped his hands. The soldiers entered the room.
“I am arresting you, gentlemen,” shouted Matt. “Take them to prison.”
“There’s a law for that, too,” cried the Minister of Justice, rejoicing. “It’s called martial law. Hey, this is really getting illegal now,” he cried, when a soldier poked him in the ribs with his rifle butt.
Their faces white as chalk, the ministers were taken off to prison. The Minister of War was the only one to remain free. He made a military bow and left the room.
Now the conference room was as silent as the grave. Matt was all by himself. He clasped his hands behind him and walked back and forth for quite a long time. And every time he passed the mirror, he glanced over at it and thought: I look a little like Napoleon.
But what was he supposed to do now?
The ministers had left stacks of papers on the table. Should he sign some, or all of them? What did they say? Why had some been marked “Approve,” and others, “Postpone” or “Forbid”?
Maybe he shouldn’t have arrested all the ministers.
Maybe he shouldn’t have done it at all. What would happen now?
Just why had he done it? What harm had they done? To tell the truth, Matt had acted stupidly. Why had he made peace in such a hurry? He could have summoned his ministers; the Minister of Finance would certainly have told him about reparations.
Who could have known there was such a thing as reparations? What’s right is right. Why should the winner have to pay? And besides, they’d started it themselves.
Perhaps he should write to the kings. Since there were three of them, that would make it easier—each one could pay a third.
But just how did you write such letters? What had that minister said—volume 814. How many of those books were there? And all Matt had ever read was two books of stories and a biography of Napoleon. That was awfully little.
Matt’s thoughts were becoming even gloomier, when suddenly he heard the cuckoo signal through the open window.
At last he wasn’t alone any more.
“Felek, tell me, what would you do in my place?”
“In Your Royal Highness’s place, I’d just play in the park and not go to any of their meetings. I’d do whatever I felt like doing, and I’d let them do what they wanted, too.”
Matt thought that Felek was a very simple boy and did not understand that, after all, a king’s duty was to make his people happy, and not just play tag and ball. But that wasn’t the problem, and so he didn’t say anything about it to Felek.
“It’s a tough spot, Felek. The ministers are in prison.”
“Let them stay there if that is Your Royal Highness’s desire.”
“But look how many papers have to be signed. And if I don’t sign them, there won’t be railroads, factories, or anything.”
“So then you have to sign those papers.”
“But you see, the thing is that I don’t know what to do without the ministers. Even old kings need their ministers.”
“So let them out of prison.”
Matt almost threw himself on Felek with joy. It was such a simple solution, but it hadn’t occurred to him. Nothing really terrible had happened. He could set them free any time. But he would make certain conditions. They wouldn’t be so free to give orders, they would have to obey him. From now on, the king would not have to steal food for his friends from the pantry or the gardens, or stare in envy through the gate at the other boys playing. He wanted to play, too. He wanted the good captain under whom he had served during the war to be his teacher now. What was so bad about all that—he wanted to be like all the other boys, so they wouldn’t tease him.
Felek could not stay long because he had some important business in the city; he had only come to borrow a little money, not a lot, just enough for his trolley fare and maybe for some cigarettes and chocolate.
“My pleasure. Here, Felek.”
And then Matt was alone again.
The master of ceremonies was avoiding Matt, his tutor was hiding somewhere, and the footmen were being as quiet as shadows.
Then suddenly Matt realized that everyone might be thinking that he had turned into a tyrant.
He was seized by fear.
That would be horrible. After all, he was a direct descendant of Henryk the Hasty, who killed people like flies.
What to do now, what to do?
If only Felek were there, or someone.
Then Matt’s old doctor came quietly into the room. This made Matt very happy.
“I have some important business,” began the doctor timidly, “but I’m afraid Your Royal Highness will refuse.”
“Why, do you think I’m a tyrant or something?” asked Matt, looking the doctor right in the eye.
“What kind of tyrant could you be? But I’ve come on a delicate matter.”
“What is it?”
“I want to ask you to grant the prisoners a few small requests.”
“Speak freely, Doctor. I agree to everything in advance. I’m not the least bit angry with them, and I’m going to release them from prison. They just have to promise me that they won’t give too many orders.”
“Oh, spoken like a true king,” cried the doctor, overjoyed. Now he felt free to list the prisoners’ requests. “The Prime Minister requests a pillow, a mattress, and a quilt. He can’t sleep on a straw mat because it makes his bones ache.”
“But I’ve slept on the ground,” interjected Matt.
“The Minister of Health requests a toothbrush and tooth powder. The Minister of Commerce requests white bread because he cannot eat black prison bread. The Minister of Education requests books to read. The Minister of Internal Affairs requests pills because worry is causing him headaches.”
“How about the Minister of Justice?”
“He is not requesting anything, because he read in volume 425 of the law that ministers who are imprisoned only have the right to ask favors of their Royal Majesty after three days of imprisonment, and they have been in prison only three hours.”
Matt ordered that all the ministers immediately be sent bedding and a royal lunch from the palace and, in the evening, a dinner with wine. And he also ordered that the Minister of Justice be brought to him under guard.
When the Minister of Justice arrived, Matt ordered him to please be seated, and then asked: “Would it be legal if I let all of you out of jail tomorrow?”
“Not entirely, Your Majesty. But if we call it a martial-law summary procedure, then everything will be formally correct.”
“But, Mr. Minister, if I let them out, can they put me in jail?”
“They do not have the right to. But, on the other hand, volu
me 949 does mention that there can be a legal coup d’état.”
“I don’t understand,” admitted King Matt. “How much time does it take to understand all this?”
“A good fifty years,” answered the minister.
Matt sighed. The crown had never seemed light to him, but now it felt as heavy as a cannonball.
THE CHAINS WERE taken off the ministers. Then they were brought to the prison dining hall, where they were met by the Minister of Justice, who was now a free man. The guards took their places, their sabers bared. The meeting began.
This is the plan Matt had devised during the night.
“You will be in charge of the grownups, I will be king of the little children. When I am twelve years old, I will rule the children up to twelve. When I am fifteen, the children up to fifteen. As the king, I can do whatever I wish. Everything else will stay the same. Since I’m young, I know what young people need.”
“We were young once, too,” said the Prime Minister.
“Fine, but how old are you now?”
“Forty-three,” said the Prime Minister.
“But you rule over people who are older than you. The Minister of Railroads is young, but the trains carry old people, too.”
The ministers said: “That’s true.”
“So, what do you say to all this, Mr. Minister of Justice? Is this legal?”
“Absolutely not,” said the Minister of Justice. “According to the law (volume 1349), children belong to their parents. There is only one possibility.”
“What is it?” asked everyone curiously.
“King Matt must be called King Matt the First, the Reformer (volume 1764, page 377).”
“What does that mean?”
“That means he is a king who changes the law. If the king says: ‘I want to make such and such a law,’ I say: ‘You cannot, because there is already another law.’ But if the king says: ‘I want to introduce such and such a reform,’ then I say: ‘Fine.’”
Everyone agreed. But the biggest problem was Felek.
“He cannot be the favorite.”
“Why not?”
“Because court etiquette won’t allow it.”
The master of ceremonies was not at the meeting, and the ministers could not provide Matt with a good explanation of court etiquette. They knew only one thing for sure: a reformer king could not have favorites in his own lifetime. That didn’t mean that, God forbid, King Matt had to die, but that paper had to be gotten back from Felek at any cost.
“That is not a legal document,” confirmed the Minister of Justice. “Felek can come see the king, he can be his best friend, but that can’t be written down on paper and sealed.”
“All right, then,” said Matt to test them, “but what if I won’t agree and make you stay in prison?”
“That is a completely different story,” said the Minister of Justice. “Kings can do anything.”
Matt was surprised that for something so silly, a piece of paper, so many people would be willing to stay in jail.
“Your Highness,” said the Minister of Justice, “please do not be offended, but laws have been made about this, too. The subject of favorites is discussed in volume 235. A king can appoint favorites during his lifetime, but then he cannot be called a reformer.”
“So then what can he be called?” asked Matt nervously, because he had already begun to guess what it was.
“He must be called the Tyrant King.”
Matt rose, the prison guards brandished their sabers, the room became perfectly silent. All the ministers turned pale with fright while waiting to hear what Matt would say. Even the prison flies stopped buzzing.
Then Matt said loudly and slowly: “From this day on, I will be called King Matt the Reformer. You gentlemen are free.”
The warden at once took the chains back to the cells because they were no longer needed, the guards sheathed their sabers, and the guard with the key ring opened the heavy iron door. The ministers rubbed their hands in happiness.
“One moment, gentlemen. I want to make a reform. Tomorrow every schoolchild is to be given a pound of chocolate.”
“Too much,” said the Minister of Health. “A quarter of a pound, at the very most.”
“All right then, a quarter of a pound,” said Matt.
“We have five million schoolchildren in the country,” said the Minister of Education. “If the bad boys and the lazy boys get chocolate—”
“All of them!” cried Matt. “All of them, and no exceptions.”
“Our factories will need ten days to make that much chocolate.”
“And it will take a week to deliver it all through the country by train.”
“As Your Royal Highness can see, it will take no less than three weeks to carry out your command.”
“Too bad,” said Matt, but he thought to himself: How good it is that I have such experienced assistants. Without them, I wouldn’t even have known how much chocolate was needed and who would make it. And I forgot that it would have to be delivered throughout the whole country.
But Matt said none of this aloud. He even pretended that he was a little unhappy.
“And so, if you please, I would like this reform to be announced in tomorrow’s newspapers,” added Matt.
“I’m very sorry,” said the Minister of Justice. “All this is very nice, but it is not a reform. It’s only a present from the king to the schoolchildren. If King Matt were to issue a law that every schoolchild is to be given chocolate every day at state expense, that would be another story. That would be a law. But this is only a treat, a present, a surprise.”
“So let it be a treat, then,” agreed King Matt, because he was tired and afraid they would never stop talking.
“The meeting is closed. Goodbye, gentlemen.”
Matt went by royal automobile to his palace, ran straight to the gardens, and whistled for Felek.
“You see, Felek, now I am a real king. Now everything’s fine.”
“For Your Royal Highness, but not for me.”
“Why not?” asked Matt in surprise.
“Because when I showed my father the paper, he beat me so hard I saw stars.”
“He really beat you?” said Matt in surprise.
“That’s right. ‘It’s the king’s right,’ he says, ‘to grant you his favor, but it’s my right as a father to count your bones with my fist, you mongrel. In the palace you belong to the king, but here you’re mine. And a father’s hand can be relied on more than a king’s favor.’ ”
Matt had learned to be cautious. Now he knew that you should never act too hastily. In life, as in war, if you wanted to win, you had to prepare your attack well. He had been in too much of a hurry with that paper, and so he made a mess of things. He had made trouble for himself and caused Felek pain. And now his royal honor had been stained. He, the king, gives Felek a document, and then some platoon leader beats Felek because of that royal paper.
“Listen, Felek, we were in too much of a hurry. Remember, I even wanted to wait a little. There’s something else I have to tell you.”
Matt told him what had happened with the chocolate. “Kings cannot do everything they want,” he said.
“All right, Your Royal Highness—”
“Listen, Felek, call me Tomek. After all, we fought in the war together and you helped rescue me.”
Matt and Felek decided that they would talk the way they used to when they were alone together.
“All right, Felek?”
“All right, Tomek.”
Now it was easier for Matt to take back the unfortunate document from Felek.
“I’Il trade you some skates, two rubber balls, a stamp album, a magnifying glass, and a magnet for that piece of paper.”
“But my old man will beat me again.”
“That’s true, Felek, but be patient. You can see for yourself that kings can’t do things all at once. Kings have to obey the law.”
“What is the law?”
“I still
really don’t know myself. A bunch of books or something.”
“All right,” said Felek sadly, “since you’re always at meetings, you’re learning everything little by little, but I . . .”
“Good old Felek, don’t worry, you’ll see, everything will work out fine. If I can give five million children chocolate, then I can do you some good, too. It just has to be done right. You have no idea how long it takes me to fall asleep at night. I lie in bed and I keep thinking and thinking. And I’m killing myself trying to figure out how to do something that will be good for everyone. What can I do for the grownups? I can give them cigarettes, but they’ve got money and can buy them themselves. If I gave them vodka, they’d get drunk and what would happen then?”
“I don’t know,” said Felek. “You’re trying too hard to look out for everybody. I’d just order a seesaw for the park, a merry-go-round, the kind that plays music—”
“You see, Felek, you’re not the king, so you don’t understand. Fine, let there be a merry-go-round, but not just one. First thing at the next meeting, I’ll order seesaws and merry-go-rounds installed in all the schools.”
“And bowling alleys. And rifle ranges.”
“See what I mean . . .”
AS SOON AS the ministers were released from prison, they went straight to a café for coffee and cream cake. They were none too merry, even though they had regained their freedom.
King Matt the First Page 9
