audio book
written version
He was an orphan. With no parents to provide for him, he lived on the streets, if you could call it living. His skin, which was stretched over the bones of his malnourished body, bore the bruises of abuse. Three fingers on his right hand hung uselessly crooked. A shopkeeper, enraged by his livelihood constantly disappearing down the throats of starving waifs, had smashed them. However, angry shopkeepers were not the worst he had to deal with. On occasion, he was unlucky enough to cross paths with a drunk looking for entertainment or an embittered individual looking to vent their frustration. These situations typically resulted in him collecting a fresh set of bruises. A few people did things to him about which he never thought or spoke.
Despite all this, he was surviving. Until he got sick and was unable to eat for a few days. When he recovered enough to move, he was so desperately hungry, he took stupid risks. So, he was caught stealing bread. This sort of occurrence is so common that, normally, it would be unnotable, and this story would end here, with the death of one more orphan. However, as the soldiers dragged him to the magistrate, they had to stop and make way for a foreign king approaching from the opposite direction.
To the boy’s surprise, instead of passing by, the King halted and looked directly at him.
“What is going on here?” the King asked.
“Nothing of importance to your majesty,” one of the soldiers replied. “This boy is just another worthless thief and beggar whom we are taking to the magistrate for judgment and punishment.”
“A worthless child,” the King said curiously, “How interesting. I have never met a worthless child before.”
The soldier seemed confused by the statement and stood speechless for a moment before finally replying with a, “Yes, your majesty.”
“What is your name?” the King asked the boy.
“Your slave is named Benith, Sergeant in the third army and assigned to the fourth district magistrate your majesty,” the soldier replied. He had been keeping his head bowed, so he did not realize The King was looking at the boy.
This time, The King was more specific, “Child, what is your name?”
This question stunned everyone. A spasm caught Benith off guard and he almost looked up, but caught himself just in time. The boy just stared at the King with a stunned look, trying to process what was happening. The King sat calmly, waiting for an answer.
Finally, a small voice replied, “I am an orphan.”
“But even orphans have names. Do you remember what your parents called you?”
“No.”
“Hmm, I see,” the King replied, and the boy wondered what he saw, but before he could figure it out, the King continued.
“I have a question for you. If I take you away from these soldiers, give you food and give you a place to rest, will you stay with me and be my son?”
The orphan was struck dumb by the question for a time. Finally, he managed to squeak out,
“Me? What? Why?”
“Because I see who you really are. Right now, you are seen as just a lost child, but I see that you are an amazing person who has the potential to do great things. You are exactly the sort of person I want as a son.”
Then the King sat watching the boy who’s tortured mind failed in its attempts to comprehend what it had just heard. A thousand thoughts whirled chaotically flashing, clashing, trumpeting, and making such a bright, loud din that thinking was impossible. Finally, survival instinct kicked in and shouted above the noise, “Say yes. You can escape from the soldiers this way.” So, he found himself saying, “Ok…er….Yes, your majesty.”
The King’s face lit up at these words, and joyful laughter poured out over the crowd. It was as if the kindest, happiest, and gentlest sun imaginable had just come out. Or, maybe a cool breeze sprang up, but instead of just caressing your skin, it went all through you, refreshing your entire being.
From the way the King looked at the boy, you would have thought he was looking at the most precious and beautiful thing in the world instead of a broken, ragged orphan.
“This is my son whom I love,” he declared triumphantly as he raised his eyes to address the onlookers. “ I name him Shapur. The conditions of his birth are of no consequence. From this time forward, you will treat him as my son, a prince in my kingdom.”
So the King took Shapur to his palace and treated him as his son and a prince of the realm. Surprisingly, this created difficulties for Shapur. When he was given royal robes, he would only wear the undergarment because he was afraid of being punished if he soiled or tore his new clothes.
“It wouldn’t be my fault if I ruined them,” he thought. “I never learned to keep clothes looking nice, but the King certainly wouldn’t understand. He could never understand a poor orphan like me.”
That night at supper, The King said, “Shapur, come sit beside me and eat as much as you like.”
Shapur listened and sat down next to The King but avoided his eyes and touch. He ate more good food than he had ever had before and stuffed himself until he could hardly move, but afterwards, he snuck food away from the table. He was afraid he would not be given food again, and this way, he would have food the next time he was hungry.
After supper, he was taken to his bedroom. It was large and sumptuous with comfortable chairs, several large wardrobes, a table and a desk. What drew his attention first was a large, soft bed with a bedspread that reached the floor. He had never had his own bed before. He only knew dark corners and hidden alleyways.
As he looked at the bedspread, he realized it hung so low, he could hide under it and stay safe while he slept. He briefly thought about stashing his food somewhere, but decided it was safer to keep it under the bed with him.
Shapur continued to act like an orphan while The King continued treating him like a prince. Every day, The King would spend time with Shapur and show him how to live as a prince. This made Shapur uncomfortable because, to him, this highlighted how poorly behaved he was. He often wondered what the King was thinking during these interactions.
He tried to change his behavior, but his attempts were rather pitiful. Sometimes he could change one thing for a short time, but he always went back to his old habits.
He never ate his food stash because he always had plenty of food available. It began to rot, and his room was filled with the stench. By this time, he was accustomed to a clean room, so the smell made him nauseous. He felt ashamed of the smell, so he no longer let anyone in his room. Some days, he managed to go a whole day without sneaking food. On those days, he felt very proud of himself. So proud, in fact, that his pride sometimes ran away with him.
“I would like to tell you something,” Shapur told the King.
“Good, what is it?” the King asked. He was pleasantly surprised because Shapur rarely spoke, and while The King was always interested in everything Shapur had to say, Shapur felt he was too stupid to say anything.
“I’ve been sneaking food away from the table at mealtimes and stashing it in my room, but today I stopped doing that.”
The King grinned, “Good! I am so proud of you! Can I give you a hug?”
Shapur looked shocked, and his eyes dropped to stare at the ground again. The thought of his food stash filled him with shame. “Um….I’ve got to…uh…go clean my room. It.. um.. smells.”
“Oh, I can do that for you.”
Shapur’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no, I’ll go do it.” And, with that, he fled to his room. The King watched him go and sighed.
This scene repeated itself over and over again in regards to various behaviors Shapur could not let go of. He would try hard and have some success. Then he would fail, feel ashamed, and despair. The despair caused him to avoid the King and behave even more like an orphan than ever before, while the shame from his perceived failures drove him to make yet another attempt to change himself.
This cycle took its toll. Shapur began to skip eating meals with the King and instead eat his rotten food. One day, when he was feeling particularly glum, he found some ragged clothes and decided they were all he was fit to wear. He was constantly telling the servants how great the King was and how well he treated a poor undeserving orphan like himself, but he still would not accept a hug.
Finally, he began to sleep in the stable. One night while he was asleep, the King came out to see him. He covered him with a warm blanket and sat down waiting for him to wake. Shapur slept fitfully these days, so he soon woke with a start. He stared at the King like a bird caught in a snake’s eye.
“Hello,” said the King with a smile.
Shapur scrambled to his feet. He knew he was in trouble now. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Being with you.”
“Huh?”
“Well, you don’t come to spend time with me, so I came to spend time with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you. That makes me want to be with you.”
“But I wasn’t even doing anything. Weren’t you bored?”
The King grinned, “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But when you love someone, just being in their presence is special.”
This was too much for Shapur. So many confusing emotions rose to the surface and could not be stifled. They burst heedlessly out from his mouth expressing deep things he had dared never say before.
“How? Why? What? I don’t understand. I’m an orphan! Can’t you see that? I dress like one, eat like one, talk like one, and act like one! You can’t prove otherwise! You are so good to me, but I still can’t act like you want me to. I’ve failed and shown everyone that you don’t know what you are doing. You picked a loser! You should have me thrown out!! Why haven’t you? Maybe I should leave before you do. It would probably be better for both of us.”
“So why haven’t you left?” asked the King who seemed strangely unruffled by this sudden outburst. In fact, there even seemed to be a gentle smile lurking in his concerned eyes.
“I don’t know. You’re just so . . . so . . . good. After living here, I think I would die living anywhere else,” Shapur said gloomily. “I can’t stay and bring shame to both of us, and I can’t leave. I’m so stuck that I would have been better off dying in the streets.”
“I don’t think so,” The King smiled. “I love you, made you my prince, and named you Shapur. I know you act like an orphan. I expected this when I adopted you. That’s what you were as a small child, so that’s how you learned to act. Everything you learned then was aimed toward surviving one more day. You always had to take care of yourself. It takes time to understand what it’s like to be loved and cared for.”
“But I keep doing the same things wrong over and over again. I know better, but I never stop.”
“Now you are loved,” the King continued undisturbed, “Now I provide for you. These things are the difference between your old life and this one. If you want to learn how to be a prince you have to spend time with me and receive my love. When you receive my love, you will understand who I am. When you understand who I am, you will understand who you are because a prince is just like his father, the king. When you know who you are, you will act like yourself, my prince.”
“But that’s not who I am! I’m an orphan! Can’t you see how I hoard food, dress in rags, sleep in a stable, and hide from you and other people? I’ll never be able to stop!”
“I know. You feel hopeless because you don’t accept that I adopted you. You think that your actions can make you who you are, but they can’t. You aren’t King. I’m The King. I decide how things in my kingdom are. No one under my rule can contradict anything I say, and that includes you! I say you are a prince, so you are. Nothing you say or do can change that.
As an orphan, your childhood was stolen from you. Please let me give it back to you. Let me take care of you, love you, and teach you what life really is.”
Shapur was in tears by the end of this. The abuse of his past hurt so much, and his failures stung him mercilessly. He was tired, so very tired from . . . everything.
“Ok,” he whispered. Then he collapsed.
The King caught him in his arms and held him close.
“I love you,” he whispered. And as Shapur lay there, he finally felt . . . contentment.
