doggedly thou stuck to a name clearly inventive yet of some meaning to yourself.
Let it not be said that justice is a false exit in my court. A man who has a choice is given the dignity of pre-innocence. The court has no fear; for it is a clumsy thing in the hands of the false.
Choose who or why then young beggar. Tell us thy true name or tell us why thou prefer your epithet."
To this request, the young Beggar answered: "You are most gracious, Your Honour, and your own speech suits your deeds well. Yours is suited for your calling and mine is to mine.
What name I had before this label, in truth, I cannot recall. For I was an orphan; again how or why I shadow not. A street ermine, tiny feet amok in the fruit stalls of another place. There a man called by some a Beggar, by others a King adopted me. By no more legal means than the tug of a hand; the beckon of an eye. Obscure I know to speak of him as a beggar and a king. Yet for many he seemed a king with no state so noble his bearing; for many a beggar without needs so compassionate his thoughts. Some said he had forsaken kingdoms for pearls lifted up from the streets. Some said his heart was the purest jewel ever before found by man. Certainly wide were the variations of men who flocked to him whether for argument or comfort in words.
And I was with him night and day but mostly at a skirt of distance so constant was the press of humanity upon him. Always people with questions; always people with doubts. All received what they had asked for but more than a few were bitter with their gift. Huddled in mean little groups glancing and mumbling at where he sat.
Finally when the throng had dispelled for the night, we would sup. And then he would call for me 'Child' he would call or as I grew older 'Boy', sometimes 'My son'. He would ask me questions of what I had seen and heard in the day. Questions of what I understood in what he had said through the day. Many times my answers brought a smile and light laughter to his lips. These times he would rebuke his closest followers with 'See, the child knows me with his innocent and spacious heart.' What is the shuffle of old knowledge compared to his leap of faith. A child knows as a child only hears the notes, he has not learned to spend all his time probing for lies in the empty spaces between or he would say 'a child listens with his eyes; his eyes wide to another's garden. For all the glorious scent, his eyes will mark the thistles. A child listens to a hand gentle on his shoulder. The harder becomes the hand, the more guilt turns his cheek. And innocence strays from truth'".
With this the young Beggar stopped and looked upon the crowd at the back with such a stillness of commiseration that the whole court was hushed, almost hypnotised to await the ring of tear dropping in the dust.
After a brief wait, the judge softly interjected "And where is your father now, this kingly beggar?"
"He is dead your Honour. Killed by the others. Not by his closest followers I mean but by the people. He had made too many bitter, they could stand no longer the look of his gaze. Too old a terror in their heart they could not heed lover only the hollowness of accusation. They could not see what he had only what he didn't have. So they accused him of this and that, then hurriedly killed him. In order that he would remain as one of them and no longer ridicule their crawl by his gentle (but towering) stride.
I was away when it happened. He sent me on a long errand to another town. I suppose he knew it was going to happen. His followers were in a state of confusion. Some wanted to run. Some to begin a church or such like. Some a revolution. There was talk the Master had returned from the dead; some had seen it. Once or twice.
These things and what became of them I do not know. For I was quickly shunned and made to know my 'innocence' was no longer required for the building of Greater things. Just as well. For already in a day the thistles I saw sprouting in his garden brought shame to my heart.
So I left. I had come as a child with his innocence bundled on a stick. Lived as a boy with his father, fed from the plate of understanding. Gone out as a man; his shame carried in a sack heavy upon his shoulder. Child, boy, man; too short a procession to learn what we are called upon to see.
But as I walked this old path of distance; of solitude, my heart would not remain so bitter. My father's words and eyes came forth time and again. Let the others do what they will with his name and his words. All growers are given the same seed.
A son is different than a follower. When the king falls let the armies, the captains, the followers run, flee or do as they wish.
The son alone has his duty. To pick up the standard and renew the challenge, the fight. It is the destiny of the son to wear the tools of his father's trade.
So I choose too the beggarly walk of words and glances. A marriage to the people, a love of compassion. To let my rags and empty cups dispel hesitation. No man need fear me so all will give onto me. My heart will flourish in the rain of their truths. While their falsehoods and truths give my hungry mind great hard nuts to pick at travelling down the path. I try to give what I get; sow what I reap. But I am not my father.
In this I err constantly. Anyone can gather; few can number the seed. Fewer still the courage to guide the plow. As time wore on I began to see that many can become skilled to a trade but few are Masters. That is a special gift; an intimacy with one's tools. He needed no apprenticeship; I fear the same cannot be said of myself. None the less a toil embraced is its own reward; I do not seek his place only his footsteps.
Hence my name. For I could not journey as 'man'. That name is too common in its lack and too arduous, too elite in its fullness. I choose the Beggar's son to mark my lineage and vocation. And added young, not because there is more than me, but because it lends to the name the caution of inexperience yet a lifting of hope."
Judge: " Given the why of your name is it seems of far more value than the who other men place to theirs, the Court will accept Beggar's young son as a proper designation. Please continue, Clerk."
With a rather piqued expression (he had really hoped for the rack as a solution), the clerk wrote onto the sheets the beggar's name. He then asked the prisoner.
"What is the name of thy God that you may be sworn to it to utter no falsehood in this court?"
"Truth" stated the young beggar.
At this the Clerk began checking long list of God names kept by the Courts for this purpose. After a careful study and checking the list three times (with suitable mumblings) he spoke: "There is no Truth written with the List of Gods. Is it from your place of origin only?"
It wasn't till the chucklings around the court had died down with a slight tilt of the Judge's staff that the clerk realized this butt of irony, and at his cost. Ears slightly reddened under his cap he glowered at the young man and said "Truth is a conceptual thing and is not allowed as a God. Pick another."
The Beggar replied "If I swear by another, than I am false because I swear by something I believe to be false. I cannot then do a good thing by a bad means. That is to say I would not save a child stuck in a tree by cutting down the tree. Or save on oil for the lantern by plucking my eyes out. If, however, I swear by Truth to tell truth, each time I tell the truth I move closer to my completion and, therefore, honourable status of my vow.If I swear by falsehood to tell the truth, each time I tell the truth I move further from my vow. I would instead be compelled to utter falsehoods in order to remain completely true to my vow of falsehood."
Having absolutely no comprehension what this meant, the clerk returned with: "It must be a God so that you can be punished by that God if you deviate in your vow".
Young man: "Then with Truth one has the best God of all for the Court's purpose. Many other Gods can be bought and sold; reprisals, sins dispelled or bartered against. There are many men who seemingly have Gods of Falsehoods, Treachery or Compromise.
But Truth does not waiver. The act is; the deed is; the thought is. Truth will accept no compromise on this. The nature, the result, the intent can be judged or weighed but Truth is not changed. What was said or done is held eternally unchanged. No amount of incense or goat's blood will sway its vis
ion.
And Truth has one other great advantage over Gods. When a man is caught by Truth he is immediately tried and judged. But a man caught by a God seldom sees immediate reprisal. God's exist in magnitude of their followers; if they killed them all or drove them away with severe punishment where would then the God exist? Therefore this state of penance serves the man and the God to allow resubmission and sustain existence of both. A man who swears by a God today knows he will largely have time for restitution at a later date. Evil, falsehood can be allowed today and persecution avoided later. This is hardly a deterrent if a falsehood will glean immediate benefits.
But Truth is immediate and unretractable. A falsehood today will bring the full force of her (truth) wrath today. There is no escaping; no delaying. No bargains or pleas, Truth has only eyes; no ears and no need of any man or men to exist to maintain Truth's existence.
Hence I choose Truth to ring for the hollowness of my words as each is spoken. If they ring false those here who are not false will note the discord. And justly punish me today. There is little sense in the need for a God to offer rebukes at death's door. The time for truth is now, not then."
At the end of this, the clerk looked up to the judge in an extremely oppressed manner and simply
The Seven Days of Wander Page 15
