THE SILVER-EYED LEOPARD
In a land far away from here lived a queen. She was prized for her extraordinary beauty. But as beautiful as she was, she was also wise. She ruled her vast kingdom in peace and prosperity. No one in the kingdom went without food or shelter and no one could remember the last war. The queen was loved by all.
She had become queen at the age of nine after her mother and father died from the plague that had swept through the kingdom years before. Her parents had caught the plague as they had tended their sick subjects in the sanitarium on the outskirts of the city. They had fallen prey to the terrible illness together and died in each other’s embrace, eternally bonded by their love of each other and for their people.
The nine-year-old child princess was appointed queen after seven weeks of mourning. Since the day of her enthronement, Gahil had been by her side as her devoted advisor. Gahil had been the king’s sword bearer and there was no one in the kingdom the king had trusted more. The king had asked Gahil on his deathbed to be the child queen’s guardian. He had made Gahil swear an oath to serve her always and to never let her leave the confines of the palace grounds for fear of her befalling the same fate that befell himself and his beloved queen. Gahil had fulfilled his oath from that day onward. From the day the crown had been placed on the nine-year-old princess’s head, Gahil had loved the princess queen as if she were his own daughter. The princess queen had come to love Gahil as a father. Even as the queen entered adulthood and became a mighty, strong, and independent ruler, Gahil remained at her side. The queen never left the palace grounds and the chronicles recorded her name as the Queen of the Great Palace.
Every day the queen would attend to the affairs of state in the morning, and after her daily walk in the palace gardens she would lunch on bread, mango, and ass’s milk. After the second chime, she would meet with her subjects, one and then another, resolving disputes and listening to requests. She received subjects late into the evening and often would ask her attendants to carry the aging Gahil to his chamber, as he would fall asleep from the length of his days.
The queen had completed twenty years of rule; the land prospered like never before and the people were at peace. One day, after many weeks of meditation, Gahil took the queen aside and said, “Mighty queen and beloved ruler” (this is how he addressed his queen however many times she told him not to), “may I please speak privately and frankly with you?” “Of course, oh wisest of all the wise” (this is how the queen addressed Gahil, even though he begged her not to). The queen was anticipating a long debate regarding a legal ruling she had made. Often, she would debate Gahil on matters of the law until deep into the night; she enjoyed pitting her razor-sharp mind against Gahil’s gentle logic. They of en disagreed, but how they loved to argue and joust in debate. However, on this occasion, Gahil’s concern was not the law.
He said, “Your Majesty, you have ruled your land with wisdom and kindness for twenty years, and the people are at peace and the children are well fed. Have you thought of the future?” The queen knew exactly what Gahil was getting at but played ignorant. “Wisest advisor, what is it you mean?” “Your Majesty, have you considered marriage so that your kingdom may have an heir? Without an heir, the kingdom could become unstable. I beg of you, mighty and most beautiful of queens, please, at least consider taking suitors. My queen cannot age alone.” The queen laughed in response to Gahil’s prodding. It was not the first time that the issue of her marriage had been raised. Secretly she agreed with Gahil. She knew her kingdom could only be secure with an heir apparent. Also, in secret, despite the love of Gahil and all her people, she was lonely for a companion. “Learned and wisest master, what would you suggest? I was planning to grow old alongside you.” Gahil was ready for this opening. “Your Majesty, let your government send forth a proclamation that their beloved queen will consider suitors for the sixty days after the third moon.” The queen thought, looked at her beloved Gahil, and said, “Let it be so.”
The kingdom buzzed with gossip of the queen taking a suitor. “Will it be the king of Bohemia?” one person asked. “No, surely it will be the prince of Jerusalem,” said another. “Rubbish,” said a third, “it will be the royal prince of Persia.” The only thing that was clear was that no one could agree. It soon became the only topic people spoke of in the taverns and the village squares.
When the proclamation went forth across the far reaches of the earth that the legendary Queen of the Great Palace would consider suitors, hundreds of men arrived. They came on horses, in chariots, and on elephants. Every day more suitors rode into the city and the queen met with them all. One brought gold, another brought jewels; some brought furs and some brought magical silks. They all received the sincerest of thanks from the queen but none left with her hand in marriage. Gahil would say of one, “He is a wonderful warrior,” but the queen would answer, “But he has no appreciation for music—how could I marry such a man?” Gahil would say of another suitor, “How beautiful are his features,” and the queen would answer, “He is not skilled in mathematics—how will he help manage our grain stores?” And so it went on. Whenever Gahil found an attribute, his beloved queen would find a fault. Soon the sixty days would be up and Gahil realized he was fighting a losing battle. The queen, on the other hand, was irritated that so much time had been taken away from the affairs of state and her people by Gahil’s scheme to find her a husband. But her loneliness started to grow within her. At first, this was a tiny seed of a feeling, but soon it became a forest of emptiness.
There was only one day left of the sixty-day proclamation and the queen (and even Gahil) looked forward to the return of normalcy. However, in the dead of night there rode into the city a prince. He rode on a horse that was so white and so glistening you could see the stars and the moon reflected in the sheen of its fur. The horse was magnificent but the prince who rode upon him more magnificent still. The prince was kept warm by a coat made from the furs of Russia. He wore a shirt and pants woven from the silk of China and boots cobbled from the leather of Turkey inlaid with pearl from Abyssinia. The man himself was tall and broad. He had eyes of ebony hair of jet, and skin browned by the sun.
In the middle of the night, the prince began to pound on the outer gate to the palace. “What is it?” the night guard called out. “Tell your queen that the Prince of Princes is here to seek her hand in marriage.” “Sire,” the guard replied, for he could see that this handsome man was a nobleman, “I cannot admit you in the middle of the night, for the queen and her attendants are asleep. I would ask that you return in the morning to seek an audience.” “Guard,” the prince responded, “I must see the queen immediately, for I have a gift for her that is more precious than all eternity.” The guard was intrigued. “Can I see this gift, sire?” The prince held up a small box of red wood, inlaid with gold and precious stones of many colors. “Guard, it is in here. But I may show its contents only to the queen herself. No other person may see it,” said the prince. “Sire, I must still ask that you return morning hence. I assure you that the queen will grant you an audience then.”
Gahil had been unable to sleep and was walking through the palace grounds in the dead of night. He was troubled. He was getting old and knew that soon he would die and there would be no one left to care for his queen. He heard the commotion at the palace gate and listened in the shadows. The words of the prince impressed him but if the truth were told, he was growing desperate to see his queen wed. He stepped from the shadows before the guard. The guard bowed. “Lord Chancellor,” he said, calling Gahil by his official title, “this prince wishes to see our queen immediately” The prince turned to the elderly man from whom every breath was wisdom and said, “Honored Lord Chancellor, I am the Prince of Princes and I have come to seek the queen’s hand. I have a gift for her drawn from the heavens”—he held up the jeweled box—“but I must give it to Her Majesty immediately.” Gahil was about to deny the prince his request and suggest that he return in the morning just as the guard had do
ne, but the elderly advisor had the power of inner sight. The Lord Chancellor stared into the depth of the prince’s soul and all he saw there was beauty. Gahil used his magical powers, mastered through years of meditation and learning, to look in the crevices and corners of the prince’s heart, and all he saw there was purity. Gahil said, to the astonishment of the guard, “Come into the palace, Prince of Princes. I will inquire of the queen whether she will give you an audience at this extraordinary hour.”
The prince and his horse entered the palace confines behind the slow, stooping gait of the old advisor. Gahil awoke messengers and sent them to the queen’s chamber to ask whether she would take an audience for an urgent matter of state. The queen was gently awakened by her lady-in-waiting, who had served her from childhood. The lady-in-waiting was almost as old as Gahil, whom she had secretly loved all of her life. “My queen,” her lady said in a gentle whisper, “the Lord Chancellor seeks an urgent audience with you.” In all her reign the queen had never been awakened by Gahil even once in the middle of the night and so she knew that this must be a matter of the utmost urgency.
The queen put on a simple gown of raw white cotton and ran barefoot, with haste, to the audience chamber. She feared a catastrophe in her kingdom or that her beloved Gahil had fallen ill. As she entered the chamber, the queen said, panting, “Beloved wise of the wise, what brings your call for an audience with me in the dead of night?” Gahil replied, eyes downcast, “The queen of my heart, I beg your forgiveness, but please, I beg of you, give audience to the Prince of Princes who has come to see you urgently”
Out of the corner of the room stepped the Prince of Princes, bearing the red wooden box. He bowed to the queen, who even without her jewels and finery was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “What is this?” the queen asked of Gahil. “The Prince of Princes has come to seek your hand,” Gahil answered in his slow, gentle voice. The queen’s wisdom became veiled by a sheet of anger. “What … in the dead of night, I am called from my chamber to see another suitor … Chancellor Gahil, I am so angered by this foolishness.” The old man fell to the floor. “Oh Queen of Queens, I would rather be thrown into a pit of fire than anger you. I beg you to forgive me.” The queen rushed to the old man and helped him to his feet. “You foolish old man,” she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek, “this prince of yours must be special indeed that you would awaken your queen for him.” “Oh my queen,” Gahil responded, “he is.” The queen turned her attention to the prince standing before her. “Oh prince from distant lands, what I pray brings you to my palace so late in the night and what cannot wait that you keep my learned chancellor from his bed?”
The Prince of Princes looked upon the Queen of Queens and loved her with all his heart. So too the queen looked upon the prince and loved him in return. She however remained veiled by anger and by the fear of opening her heart to another. “Oh queen,” the prince said, “I have a gift for you that you must receive immediately, for it cannot wait. May I so beg your indulgence?” His voice possessed its own music. “So what gift do you bring me, oh prince, that could not wait until the morning?” said the queen with a voice that was falsely aloof and irritated (old Gahil chuckled to himself, since he had never heard his queen speak in this way and so he knew that she was in love—at last).
The prince brought his dark eyes upon the radiant queen and found he could hardly speak. This is how people who are in love behave. The prince spoke timidly. “I have a gift for her most beautiful and wise Majesty” He opened the box and took from it a beautiful clear rock the size of a fist. The prince put the box on the floor and held out the rock in the palm of his hand for the queen to see. Was it a diamond? If so, it would be the largest in the world. The queen stepped closer to see. As she did, a drop of water fell from the prince’s hand to the floor. Then another drop fell and then another. “Ice,” shouted the queen. “You woke me up to see a piece of ice! My scientists have cooled my chamber with pieces of ice a thousand times larger than that.” Cloaked in her anger, she turned to the Lord Chancellor and shouted, “This is it! No more suitors,” and with that, she ran from the chamber.
The prince remained standing exactly where he had been, the piece of ice gradually melting from his hand and forming a little pool of water beneath it. Gahil watched for a while but then left the chamber in sadness. He bade the guard show the prince out when he was ready to leave.
The queen returned to her chamber furious and explained to her lady-in-waiting what had transpired. The old servant listened and understood—her wisdom was even greater than Gahil’s and far more carefully hidden. The lady-in-waiting waited for the queen’s anger to lessen and then spoke quietly as the queen paced in her chamber. “Does my queen require a drink of water to calm her nerves?” “Thank you,” answered the queen, “I would love some water.” The lady-in-waiting then took a glass and went to the queen’s private chamber and filled the glass with diamonds from one of the queen’s treasure chests. She then handed this to the queen. “What is this?” the queen asked, puzzled. “My queen, it is your water,” answered the elderly servant. The queen wrongly assumed that her lady-in-waiting was confused because of the late hour. The queen said, “I cannot drink diamonds.”
At that moment the blinding veil of anger lifted from the queen and in a moment she realized her mistake. The Prince of Princes’ gift to her was not the block of ice but himself. It was the warmth of his heart and the steadiness of his hand that he offered the queen, not another diamond. She stared at the cup of worthless diamonds in her hand under the caring gaze of her lady-in-waiting. A single drop of love is a gift of more value than all the jewels on earth. The queen was immediately aware that she loved the Prince of Princes with all of her heart. She fled from her chamber to find her prince, and as she did so a tear of happiness fell from the eye of her lady-in-waiting to the floor.
The queen raced to the audience chamber and threw open the door. The prince was not there. There was simply a pool of water in the middle of the floor. The queen ran from the chamber to the palace gates, which she had never left in all her life. When she reached the gate, hardly able to breathe, the guard bowed, for he had never seen his queen up close and certainly never barefoot, dressed in a simple cotton robe. The queen could not catch her breath. “Where is the prince?” she gasped. The guard answered, “He rode from here a few minutes ago … you can still hear the horse hooves”. In the deep silence of the night he was right, but the sound was disappearing.
The queen ran back to the audience room and threw herself over the little pool of water. She desperately tried to drink the water, licking it from the floor like a thirsty nomad when he finds water in the desert. Tears filled her eyes as the prince’s love touched her lips and was swallowed inside of her. A veil of anger will lift, but love is forever blinding.
The queen ran to the palace stables. The stable boy lay asleep as usual in the loft. He could not believe it when he saw the queen before him. One of the royal horses was already saddled and she leaped upon the horse and galloped at full speed through the open palace gates as the guard watched, astounded. Everyone knew the queen had never left the palace in her whole life.
The queen rode in the direction from which she had heard the hoof sounds. She rode all through the night but never saw the Prince of Princes or heard the echo of his horse. She was in despair.
As the sun rose, her horse was tiring and slowed. She brought it to a gentle walk. She had never seen her kingdom before; she had never seen the fields that every year filled the grain stores or the houses that her people lived in, and she had never seen children playing in the early morning sun. All of a sudden a glistening caught her eye. In the distance she saw another pool of her prince’s love melted onto the grass. She drove her horse at full gallop to the lake. When she reached it she saw a lake of her prince’s love stretched before her as far as her eye could see. Remember, the queen had never seen a natural lake before, since she had never left her palace. She leaped from the hors
e and ran into the pool of love.
The queen had not only never seen a lake before but had never been taught to swim. And so, the Queen of Queens drowned. She did not cry out because she understood that this was how it felt to be consumed by love.
The only creature on earth that saw what happened next was the royal horse, who was unable to tell a soul. As the Queen of Queens disappeared beneath the water, out from the water walked a white leopard. It was a beautiful, lean, muscular creature with a coat that glistened so that you could see the stars and the moon reflected in the sheen of her fur. The leopard had eyes of silver, for it carried the soul of the Queen of all Queens.
The leopard then ran with a gentle stride across the borders of Kumara into the eastern lands. She ran through rains and snows, across the plains of Abyssinia, and into the mountains of the Himalaya. The leopard climbed along long-forgotten passes and across rock faces that no one even knew existed.
After many moons she chanced upon a cave. There, within it, seated in lotus pose, was the Prince of Princes. He was naked and alone. The leopard looked upon the Prince of Princes through her eyes of silver. Through him she saw heaven and earth melt into one beautiful river of love. In his eyes, the circles of love spun over earth, connecting a crying child to a beggar laughing, connecting a thrust of hope to a cry of despair, resolving evil with the good. Everything else is illusion. The silver-eyed leopard then sat at the feet of the Prince of Princes for eternity.
Writing my story has exhausted me. I concentrate in my flickering consciousness to look over the hat vendor’s shoulder and see his face. I cannot, but I am near.
The Blue Notebook Page 18
