Sush and the Bandit King
It was customary, during the years of ivory and palm, for the kings of Shemakha to retreat from their palaces and go forth disguised into the kingdom, that they might themselves ascertain the plights of the smallfolk. Sush, King of the Persimmon Throne, was on one such outing when he and his valets were accosted by bandits near the lawless fields of Nisat. Being the hour after dawn, the King could scarcely defend himself, as the rising sun shone true into his eyes, and so with grudging heart, he chose to yield to his captors. They in turn, recognizing the high personage of their prisoner, bound the King and his companions with rope and made to ride for their leader, though offering their captives every small courtesy out of respect for their station.
Soon enough, passing behind some cliffs, they arrived at the lair of the Bandit King, who himself received Sush and his companions in a warmly lit cavern that was bedecked in carpets, cushions, jewelled trinkets, and such luxuries as a village headman could ill afford. “Good fortune arrives at my threshold!” said the Bandit King, “and I have the privilege of calling the Radiant One my honored guest. Come: tarry a while, set aside the burdens of kingship, and let us present you with the hospitality of Nisat, whom you have denied the pleasure of your visage for so long.”
Seeing that no good would arise from a struggle, Sush acquiesced.
Later that day, the Bandit King led Sush through bustling hamlets and verdant farmland. Every storehouse was filled to the top with grain, and herds of fat cattle frolicked about the fields. “What plenitude flows through barren Nisat!” marveled the King, “and what lofty heights her children shall now certainly attain!”
“‘Tis the work of the Bandit King,” scoffed one of the outlaws. “Sixteen times did they refuse his guidance, and sixteen times did he strike them with the iron! And lo, by his patience, he has achieved what the scribes of Shemakha could not: to bring a watchful eye to defiant Nisat, that she may flourish with no worries of stumbling on her own feet.”
The King heard this, and was humbled.
The following day, the Bandit King again rode with Sush, this time through the towns and trading posts, where teams of highwaymen patrolled the streets, collecting tributes from the docile townsfolk and supervising the exchange of goods in the markets. “What order rules in unruly Nisat!” exclaimed the King. “And what remarkable discipline her people observe!”
“All naught but for the hand of the Bandit King,” sneered one of the entourage. “Sixteen times did they strike down his command, and sixteen times did he raise it high again! Lo, he has achieved through persistence what the armies of Shemakha could not: that is, to establish lawfulness in Nisat, that her children obey his authority without question.”
Hearing this, the King was humbled.
On the third day, the Bandit King yet again made to ride with Sush; but ere they could leave the shadow of the cliffs, he pulled the King aside and inquired of him subtly: “O Radiant One, thou hast beheld the prosperity and stability which have governed Nisat since I enacted my rule. Two places remain which I have not shewn to thee; the hour, alas, permits only a visit to one. Pray: first permit me the honor of thine appraisal, and by this thine indulgence, thou mayest determine the object of our visit.”
And the King knew that by these two choices, the Outlaw meant: freedom, or death.
“Thy friendship and hospitality I must extol,” said he to the Bandit, “and o’er these two passing days, thou hast grown as close to me as mine own brother. O! surely the Wheel has guided me down this slope, in order that our paths may cross. Verily, as thou hast gained a friend in my Self, so have I found an able administrator and governor in thee, who hast accomplished that which the force and splendor of Shemakha have not: namely, to bring wayward Nisat under thy firm rule.
“Such a deed cannot be compensated with praise alone - nay, thou shalt have a hundred of my finest steeds, and fifty bolts of my finest dyed silks, and as many chests of jewels as a train of servants can carry. But most importantly, thou shalt have the earldom of this land, and the power to enact laws in my name; and thou shalt have the authority to appoint headmans from among thy people, according to thy wishes. All this shall I decree.”
And the Bandit King’s head was filled with images of the comforts of noble life. “Thy wisdom knows no bounds, O Radiant One,” he said. “Come: I will shew thee the royal road.” And he charged his men with the safety of Sush and his valets, that they may arrive at the royal palace unmolested; but he himself rode at the fore with Sush, and they conversed and bantered as brothers do.
Presently they came upon a detail of the royal guard that was keeping watch over the border. “You,” said Sush, pointing to the fleetest-of-foot. “Mark my words well. Make haste and call the captain of the guard, and tell him that these men are under my protection. We ride to the royal palace, and he is to escort us there, for these men are under my protection, and I am to invest them with titles and honors. So have I decreed.”
So the fleet-footed one made haste and reported to the captain of the guard, who was in the barracks outside the Great City. The captain hearkened well, and asked: “Did the King specify the men to be His honored guests?”
The messenger replied: “No, my lord.”
The captain then asked: “Did the King extend His gracious hospitality to these men?”
“He did not mention it, my lord,” said the messenger.
Then the captain sighed, and said: “The King is in peril, and these brigands have brought Him here under duress. Only those welcomed under the banner of hospitality are truly safe from His wrathful sword. We must not tarry.” So he gathered a handful of his most seasoned troops, and rode to meet Sush’s party without delay.
He found them not far off, encamped at the Pool of Feathers (where hermits of old once washed stone-salts off petrified men), and as he approached them, the Bandit King hailed:
“Ho! Who is it that draws nigh?”
“The King’s escort, whom He has summoned hither,” replied the captain, as his soldiers slipped into the foliage and encircled the party. Then he turned to Sush, who sat on the ground quietly. “I understand that these men are under Your protection?”
“No longer,” proclaimed Sush, standing up. “I rescind my protection.”
At those words, the royal guards leapt forward and slaughtered the bandits, swift as the summer’s lightning, and the thud of their bodies against the ground was like the steady drumming of sudden rain. Scarce had the corpse of the Bandit King hit the ground when Sush issued a new command.
“Go at once to the fields of Nisat,” he ordered, “and take my retinues with you. Dispatch the outlaws there as you did here, and you will find that they have left the peasants broken and ready to accept the rule of the law. So shall we bring Nisat under the crown, once and for all.”
Thus did Sush, of the Persimmon Throne, subdue the region of Nisat and unify her people under Shemakha, where they would remain for many generations, lending glory to their kings.
Runao’s Commentary:
Mud transforms into sturdy brick as it is beat down by the sun, and brick softens into mud in the cool comfort of water. Trials harden every man equally, but this is not enough - bricks are made to be stacked upon each other, without freedom or consent, and the disciple must constantly ask themselves: who is the bricklayer, and who is the laid brick?
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