Once upon a time there was a prince, and he ruled a wide and varied kingdom. To the north, there were
fertile plains, to the east, towering snow-capped
mountains, to the west a dense
forest, and on his southern border was the
ocean. There were
teeming cities, prosperous towns and
charming hamlets, industrial areas, commercial markets and
tranquil rural landscapes.
There was no shortage of
amusement for the prince either - he could
hunt, or
hawk, range through libraries full of
fact and
fiction, there were theatres for plays and stadiums for sport, he could
dance or sing, or simply sit companionably with friends over a mug of
ale and share stories and jests.
But despite all this, our
hero was
discontented.
He loved the mountains, and delighted in the forests, the town
stimulated him and he found the villages restful. The plains and the
crops they produced gave him
immense satisfaction.
But he
hated the sea. Every day, he would ride down there with his
retinue and
glare out at the waves.
"Look at it!" he would
rant, "So wide, so
wet, always rushing up and down the
beach like that!"
"But it's the
sea, Sire," some
hapless courtier would reply, "that is what the sea
does."
"Well it
shouldn't, I don't like it," the prince
declared.
And he would stand and
throw rocks at the ocean for a while, and then go
home.
The next day, he would return and take up his
complaint again.
"It's always the same!" he would cry. "It never changes."
And again, a lordling would try to
reconcile him. He would explain that when the sun shone the waves would be
gentle and
lazy, or if a gale blew they would
rage and
crash. He would mention the way that one day the
gulls might wheel above them screeching and another be
absent so that His Royal Highness could hear the laughter and splashing of his subjects at play.
"I know all that," said the prince, "but in
essence, it's the same.
In essentials it never changes."
And he would stand and
survey the subject of his hatred, glowering and unhappy, before turning on his
heel and stalking away, muttering
imprecations, his servants hurrying along in his wake.
Day after day, week after week, the prince would look upon the sea with
disfavour, unhappy that despite all his powers he was unable to order his
kingdom to his liking.
Until one day, wearied and
worn, one of the
gentlemen of the court hesitantly said to the prince, "Sire, may I have your
permission to
speak freely?"
The prince inclined his head
graciously.
"Why sire, when you have this whole
wide land to take
pleasure in, and so much of it makes you
happy, why, when you have
Everything, do you come to the sea? You know what you will
find here, and you know that you don't like it. Why do you not simply
ignore it, and let the people who
do like it
enjoy being here?"
And the prince stopped, and thought, and started to speak, before he realised that he didn't have a good
answer.
And he smiled at the
courtier, and he turned his
eyes away from the hated ocean,
never to look upon it again.
And they all lived
happily ever after.