The Golden Peacock
The Golden Peacock
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| The Golden Peacock Once upon a time, many thousands of years ago when the world was very young, a cobbler going on his rounds found something glittering in the dusty road. He picked it up, and found, to his surprise, that it was a golden peacock. It was small, and most beautifully made. It had rubies for eyes, and in its outspread toil were set many tiny jewels. It was a lovely thing. The cobbler was an honest man and he took his find to the King. 'Ah! Said the King, turning it over and over in his hand. 'This is a treasure beyond price. See how beautifully wrought this peacock is! How many weeks, how many months have gone to the setting of these tiny jewels in the fine, outspread tail! I should like to buy this golden peacock and set it on my marble shelf where all may see it. I will send a messenger through the land proclaiming the find, asking the maker of the peacock to come forward.' The messenger was sent out – and the next week, to the King's surprise, two men came to claim the peacock! 'What?' cried the king. 'You both own the golden peacock? That is impossible. One of you is speaking falsely.' The two men glared at one another. One was called Moola, and the other Gron. Both were workers in silver and gold, and each vowed that he had made the golden peacock himself, and lost it on a journey. The King looked at them sternly. 'One of you does not speak the truth,' he said. 'It would be easy for me to send to your towns, and ask your friends which of you has made the peacock, for such a marvelous piece of work is sure to be well- known.' 'Sire,' said Moola, at once, 'it would be of no use sending to my town, for no one knows of this peacock. I did it in secret, for my own pleasure, and no one has seen the lovely bird. I was keeping it to take to the great market in the autumn.' 'So!' said the King, mockingly. 'It was a secret! And you, Gron, what do you say? Was the peacock also a secret with you? Will those in your town know of this golden bird?' 'Sire,' said Gron, his hands trembling as he spoke, 'none but myself knows of the bird. I made it in secret, and these words are the truth.' The King laughed in scorn. 'I believe you both speak falsely,' he said. 'Tell me, Gron, why should you fashion such a marvelous thing in secret? Have you a reason like Moola's?' 'I have a reason,' said Gron, 'but it is not like Moola's. I made the golden bird for my little daughter's birthday. It was to be a surprise, and none knew of it save myself. I spent all my nights on the bird, Sire and each of those little jewels took me a whole week to set to my liking.' 'False fellow!' shouted Moola, the other gold- smith. 'I set those tiny jewels in the tail! Many, many days did I work on those finely- wrought feathers, and the beak I modeled no less than eleven times before it was perfect!'  Silence,' said the King sternly. 'Now this is a puzzle harder than any I had to solve before. So lovely is this bird that I had resolved to buy it from its rightful owner – but it seems that both of you are the owners, though how that can be is beyond my understanding.' 'It is mine!' said Moola, sulkily. 'Nay, it is mine!' cried Gron, falling on his knees. 'Give it to me, o King, and I will sell it to you for half the price you meant to give!' said Moola. The King turned to Gron. 'And you?' he asked. 'Would you also sell it to me for half the price I had meant to give, if I award the bird to you, Gron?' Gron was silent. 'Answer me,' commanded the King. 'Sire,' said Gron, stammering in his nervous-ness, 'as I told you, it was meant for my little daughter. I would rather give it to her for whom it was meant.' The King looked at both the men for a long moment. Then he spoke. 'Seeing that both of you say you own the bird,' he said, at last, 'and I have no means of finding out which of you speaks the truth, I can do no better than to order the bird to be cut in half. Then one of you shall have the head and the other the tail. For that you must draw lost.' 'Agreed, o King,' said Moola, at once. Gron was silent. And you, Gron, do you agree?' asked the King, looking at the pale goldsmith. Gron threw himself down before the King. 'Do not cut the bird in half, Sire!' he cried. 'It is so beautiful! I spent so much labour on it! It would spoil it be halved. What is the use of a head or tail? The bird is not just gold and jewels, it is a piece of loveliness. I would rather Moola had it in all its beauty, and sold it to you, than that I should see the work of my hands spoilt. Keep it whole, and give it to Moola. I go, o King!' With that Gron stumbled towards the door, but the King called him back. 'Return to your place, Gron,' he said in a kindly voice. 'The bird is yours. I would not spoil such loveliness. It was a test to find the rightful owner. I knew that he who made this golden bird would never wish to see it spoilt, even though he might lose it himself Take it, Gron, and give it to your little daughter. And, in your spare time, make me another like it, and charge your own price. I will buy it from you when you please.' Gron took the golden peacock, hardly able to believe his ears. Tears poured down his cheeks, and he could say no word. He had spent so much time, so much loving labour on the lovely bird, and it had grieved him to lose it. Now he could give it to his little daughter, as he had planned, and with loving care could fashion yet another peacock for the king himself. He was a proud and happy man. But Moola shook with fear and turned as yellow as a ripe pear with fright. 'Take him to prison,' ordered the King. 'No, let him go, o King,' begged Gron, merciful in his happiness. 'I bear him no malice. Let him go.' 'You have beauty in your soul as well as in your clever hands!' said the King. 'Come to live at my court, Gron – I have need of such men as you.' So Gron came to live at the court, and spent the rest of his long life happy in making the palace beautiful for his wise master, the King. |
