Then did Wisdom take from his shelves many a ponderous, time worn volume and read to the prince History, Prophecy and Law, revealing to him thus the Secret of the Magic of the Crown of Allthetime.
And from the last volume, that which Wisdom read to Really-Is was this: “Be it known, O whosoever readeth, that if any prince of the royal family Everyone enter the city Daybyday through the Brazen Gate called Chance, he shall be forever held unworthy of the throne and crown. In the sacred Law of All the Ages it is written that a King of Allthetime may enter the Royal City only through the Golden Gate Opportunity.”
[Illustration: (see king009.png)]
Wisdom closed the book and returned this volume also to its place.
Really-Is arose to go.
“And what now is your mind, young sir?” asked Wisdom kindly.
Then Really-Is answered royally: “This you have taught me, O Wisdom—this is my mind: The Crown is not the kingdom, nor is one King because he wears a crown.”
Then did Wisdom with bowed head salute the True King.
“And your will,
Sire; may I know your Majesty’s will?”
King Really-Is replied: “My will is this: that I myself obey the sacred Law of The Ages.”
“And your brother, Sire, your brother, Seemsto-Be?”
“I will pity Seemsto-Be,” replied The King in sorrow, “I will have much pity for that poor, foolish one.”
“And peace will dwell in thy heart, O King of Allthetime,” said Wisdom, “true peace and understanding.”
Then Really-Is, alone and unattended, rode slowly on his way.
And Seemsto-Be, who rode so fast and so far ahead of Really-Is, and who paused not at the house of Wisdom, entered the city Daybyday through the Brazen Gate called Chance, and was received by the people of many races, languages, names and religions as their king.
With great tumult and shouting, with grand processions and ceremonies, the false prince ascended the throne of Allthetime and was crowned with the Magic Crown—the Crown of which no one then knew its magic, but knew only that its magic was.
Then began such times as were never before nor since seen in Daybyday; with holiday after holiday for the people, with festivals and parades, with carnivals and games, with feasting and dancing; until the chief occupation of the people was forgotten—until their many temples were empty, their many gods neglected; until with a fete extraordinary, Seemsto-Be decreed that there should be from henceforth and forever, in Daybyday, one temple only—one temple sacred to one god, the god Things-Are-Good-Enough.
“And this, O Hadji,” said the sad Voice of the Night, “is all The Tale of The Uncrowned King that is given me to tell.”
The Voice in the darkness ceased. The Pilgrim, rising, groped his way to the window.