Two thousand miles away to the East, the Mad King storms about the castle crashing into people and things he doesn’t understand. People are confused, and unsteady, like a boxer on the ropes. A few of the courtiers prefer it this way. They’ve learned what to do, and how to do it: where they can pursue their malevolent obsessions; while at the same time, create vast personal profits at the expense of everyone else in the kingdom. They quickly slither about the castle, staying close to the walls, so that no one pays them that much attention. The Mad King’s daily ravings on the ramparts help them go unnoticed most days. Everyone loves a jester, especially slap-stick. The Mad King provides the chaos, and loves the attention it brings to him. Sometimes the courtiers slip up, illicit money falls from their over stuffed pockets, or the Iron Mask slips from the latest guest to enter the hospitality of the dungeon. We are all shocked when we recognize them. They had seemed so nice. There is the polite kerfuffle which used to entertain the peasants for weeks at a time, but now is only enough to cause us all to look up for a moment or two from our lives, if that. Life has become so hard these days, what with the plagues spreading so rapidly and randomly. Even the chickens have slowed down on their egg production, as if they fear bringing their young into the world. It is all we can do to curse them all under our breath and hope for a better day, knowing, all the while, that there is no heroic knight riding to save us; no magical cure from the King’s madness. There is always another pretender nearby, humming his idiosyncratic song of death.
(April 28, 2025)
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