The Simple Farmer

Once there was a man who lived in a kingdom ruled by a king he had never seen and even though he had never seen this king he followed his edicts well. He toiled in his fields, minded his flocks, and build a simple house to shelter. Rarely did he complain and even paid his taxes with no ill towards the king. Those that collected though, they abused the man and told him that the king demanded things the man knew were not true. Even though the man had never seen the king he knew him because though he was a simple farmer he was a literate man and could read what the king had written long ago. When the men tried to trick the man, he knew it was false because he knew the heart of the king.

The king was a great distance off and had no reason to even know of his subject but the king was wise and sent messengers across the vastness of his realm to report back all of its workings. One of these messengers returned and reported on the man. The king was wrought that one of his fine subjects would be mistreated so. The king decided to gift the man new land, away from those that abused him. The king would grant him more land than he had ever known. The land was wild but he knew the farmer would subdue it and make it a great plantation. He dispatched his decree to the governor of the farmer and to the farmer himself.

The Governor was distraught at the decree because he wished not to lose the taxes the farmer paid so he sent his own messenger to the man. The Governor’s messenger found the man readying himself to leave and told him the Governor’s own decree. The man may go, for the Governor feared the distant king, but the man must still swear allegiance to him. The man wished not to argue, though the king said nothing of the sort, and agreed.
The man settled in his new home and took up the task of molding the forests and fields into a farm. He built simple store houses and mills and a simple home. Life was hard but it was quiet, far from others. The Governor’s men would come time and again to trade with the man. Some settled close by and raised trading posts that grew into towns and grew again into cities. The Governor was greatly please with the trade and taxed it so he could enrich himself with it. With the taxes came those to collect them and they were unfair with the farmer once again. The Governor cared not and to balance his own books taxed more and more till the farmer and his tradesmen thought they might perish under the weight. The farmer was pleased to take up the new land but now he was worse than where he started.

In time the king remembered the farmer and sent one to look in on him. The report returned and the king was greatly please for the man had done as the king desired and though he was far away and alone the man had not forgotten his loyalty to the king and his law. However, the king was greatly sore at the Governor when he heard what he had done. In his anger the king decreed that the governor’s hold upon the man shall be broken. The farmer shall no longer pay taxes to the governor and the governor shall have no power over him. All the wealth the farmer could create shall be his and his alone to do with as he sees fit. The Governor was crushed and in his own anger said he would cut off trade with the farmer, pushing him back to scratching at the dirt far away and alone. But by now it was too late. The governors of other holdings were more than happy to trade with the farmer, even if they could hold no power over him.

In this time the king also devised another plan for the farmer. The king had a daughter who was unmarried. The king was saddened that the farmer toiled alone, so he went to his daughter and told her the virtues of the farmer. The daughter was pleased with what she heard and agreed to go and marry him if he would have her. The king only had one command, “Tell him not that you are a princess. The farmer is a wise man and will know who you are if he thinks on it but he must love you for who you are, not because of me.” The daughter agreed and set out.

The daughter of the king arrived and met with the farmer. She was a handsome woman but of great character. She was unremarkable by any measure and had a stern way about her but underneath she was kind. The farmer was pleased to call her his wife.

On the farm the farmer again toiled in the fields. His bride made a home but was ever mindful of the farmer’s desires. He came and went as he pleased. He worked on this or that when the mood struck him. He arose from his bed when he wanted and retired when he grew weary. His wife never dictated to him what he should do or when he should do it. She happily made space for him and was joyed at his accomplishments.

A short time after their vows were made their union bore fruit and the farmer’s wife had a daughter. The farmer was overjoyed and smiled from ear to ear. He remembered the king and what he had done. “We shall call this daughter of mine Tseh’erets, which means Justice in the Land.” And there was justice in the land of the farmer. Again the wife bore life, this time a son, and again the farmer was pleased. “We shall call this son of mine Tobelek, which means Prosperity from the King.” And Tobelek was just that. As Tobelek grew he organized the fields for greater yield. He refurbished the storehouses and increased the output of the mills. Where Tobelek went prosperity followed.

Many years passed and the land of the farmer grew exceedingly great. He grew so great that the governors of the many lands under the king grew fearful of the farmer. “The farmer’s land out does us in every way. It is the greatest province in the kingdom.” And they envied the farmer. Surely the simple farmer wasn’t the cause. It must be the land the king had given him, they thought. His land was greater, the soil better, the trees taller, so the governors devised a plan. “Let us send spies to the land and see if we can wrest it from him before he becomes too great. Let us put in his ear that he is as great, no greater than the king himself! Then the king will throw down the man and give us this great land.” And it was done.

The spies came to the land and set up in one of the towns close to the farmer. They befriended him at first and whispered to him about how great he was, sowing the seeds but they failed to take root. The farmer thought on their words, and though he turned them over in his mind he always returned. No, what his new friends said did not seem right. The spies turned to Tobelek and he rebuked them by laughing in their faces. “My name condemns you,” he said. They turned to Tseh’erets and she cursed them. “There is no justice in the words you speak,” she spat at them. The spies did not even tempt to go to the farmer’s wife for fear that she would kill them outright, never speaking a word. For though they knew not who she truly was they knew her ways and feared her greatly. Thwarted in their attempts they devised a new plan and set up a den to trap their prey.

The trap they laid was layered in fine silks and soft pillowed couches. Thick rugs lay upon the floor, drink flowed from crystal, food was piled high upon silver trays. The spies brought in beautiful women and adorned them in fine attire. They hired musicians from afar to bathe the den in soft sounds and giving the women a tune to dance to. The spies spent every coin they had and borrowed what they didn’t. The finery was a lie but a bold one. So bold it would convince the wisest of men, so they hoped.
On one of the few days the farmer ventured into town the spies pleaded with him to come see all they had done. The farmer was in no hurry this day and agreed. Upon entering the den they set him upon the couch, poured him fine wine, and offered him exotic treats that they had prepared. The farmer was aghast at all he saw and was very uncomfortable though his seat was soft and inviting. With a swig of his wine and but one bite he excused himself and hurried home. “We have failed,” one of the spies lamented. “No,” replied another, “we have but dangled the hook. In time it will be set and we will pull him in.”

For a time the farmer gave little thought to his experience but as the summer sun beat upon his brow his mind turned to the coolness of where he had been. His mouth grew parched and as he swigged his warm water he remembered the cold wine that was there. What ill if I return just once he thought. My wife minds not where I go and when. My son has set good labor upon the fields. My daughter sees to it all is well and fair. He made up his mind he would return to the den, just to check in, and not to tarry long.

While the farmer was away the spies fought to keep up their charade. Money had grown so scarce that one of their number was recalled for his governor could no longer afford to keep him so far. But the absent spy was wise and though his lord had fallen on hard times kept in contact with the others and advised them with letters on what they should do. Spare no expense, he wrote to them. Forget not the prize.

The farmer made good on his self-made promise and returned. The spies did all they could to be the greatest of hosts and the farmer slowly grew more comfortable with his surroundings. Often he did not stay long but slowly he developed a habit of calling whenever he was near. As time went on he began to make excuses to himself as to why he should go to town, and of course, why he should visit his good friends at the den.

“The hook is set! Pull with all of your might,” advised the spy from afar. And his brethren did just that. As the farmer drank deep his second glass of red and watched the women dance a fog settled in his head. The spies gathered around and whispered to him, “why do you work so when you could be here? You have all you could ever need. You are far greater than any governor. You rival even the king.” The words slowly entwined the farmers head and like vines; their words coiled around his mind. “Yes,” he thought, “I have worked long, I can rest here.” And he slept. The next morning he awoke with a start and was angry with himself at his foolishness. His head ached and his mouth was sour. The farmer rushed from the den straight to his home and burst through the door as his wife was finishing the preparations for breakfast. She smiled, served him his meal, and never said a word about his absence. The farmer, feeling revived, returned to his work. But as he labored the vines thickened. They grew. They coiled. They squeezed.

In time the farmer could no longer resist the pressure mounting in his head. He walked back to the den without thinking of where he was going. Once inside the story played out much as it had before. More to eat and more to drink. As he watched the women dance he again grew groggy. And again the spies returned, whispering, “why do you work so? You could stay here. Look, isn’t this nice? Her, you could have her, isn’t she beautiful?” The farmer smiled and softly replied, “but what of my wife?” “Her? Does she truly mind? Has she ever scolded you for what you do?” “No,” the farmer mused. His thoughts began to grow dark. The farmer closed his eyes and imagined the woman dancing, imagined her coming near, imagined a small candle in the distance behind her. This candle, did it just speak? He watched intently, looking past the woman as she sauntered, and the candle did speak, “what of the king?” The farmers eyes popped open with a start and he looked directly at one of the spies, “but the king decreed that a man should have but one woman.” The spy was taken aback. He mumbled and stuttered but another saved him, “Surely the king said no such thing. Governors throughout his realm have many wives. I hear the king himself has a thousand or more!” Is it true, the farmer wondered? In his haze he couldn’t remember what he had read about the king. He tried to grasp the truth of it but it was like grabbing a shadow and he could not lay hold of it. And he slept.

The morning was the same as the last. As the farmer ate his breakfast he said not a word to his wife but wondered, does she care for him at all? His work became harder than it ever was as he remembered the luxury that waited just in town. He could not focus on any task and the things that used to bring him joy were of no interest to him. The vines were deeply rooted and the hook was firmly set. The farmer made his way to town.
Seasons passed and the farmer spent more and more time away. His wife was filled with grief and loneliness. Her heart was heavy and she wet her pillow each night as she lay alone. In time a messenger from her father came and saw she was frail. He looked for the farmer and could not find him. The wife of the farmer made no complaint but the messenger knew the tale. He went searching for the farmer and found him where the farmer was wont to be. The messenger made sure the farmer did not see him and he spoke not a word to him. He quickly returned to the king.

The king was full of anger at the report. He sent word to his daughter that she should return. Her marriage was annulled and she shall no longer be tied to a wicked man. The king’s daughter left the farm, never looking back, never to return. The rage of the king was not satisfied and he spoke again, “My protection is removed from the farmer and my hand will not cover him. I give him unto himself, as he desires.” The royal court was roused at the declaration. “Shall we send him word of this?” they asked. “Do no such thing,” the king commanded. “My words are known to him and he has turned from me. Let consequence be my messenger unto him.”

After many weeks the farmer returned to his home and found it cold and dark. No fire warmed the hearth, no food upon the table, and the bed lay empty and unkept. The farmer worried so and feared for what had befallen his wife. As he made ready to seek her his daughter came to him. “Daughter of mine, tell me, where has thy mother gone?” he asked. “She has left this place as must I, for where she goes so to must I.” she answered. “Where has she gone and why must you go?” the farmer begged. “She has gone from you, where does not matter. You took all that she gave you for granted, thinking it yours by right. As she gave me life only in her can I live.” And with that she departed from him. The farmer stood in shock at the weight of his misfortune. Before he could think on what had befallen him his son appeared. “My dear boy, who has turned my fields into gold and mills for me diamonds from nothing, tell me you are with me.” the farmer whimpered. “This cannot be,” replied the son, “for as my sister came before me and her from my mother so to must I go.” And he said nothing else and left.

The shock roiled in the belly of the farmer and twisted into contempt. He thought for himself, I gave them everything, I worked myself to the bone, and now they abandon me. Gone with them then, I have wealth that will outlive five lifetimes and a place of fellowship I can enjoy the rest of my days. The farmer set out for the den.

He reached the town and made way to the place where the den had been only to find a dusty field. The tent was gone as if it had only been a dream. He searched throughout the town and found not one stitch of fabric, one drop of wine, not one morsel that was from the den. It was no more and those with it had fled. Distraught and confused the farmer returned to his home to find many bands of soldiers there flying flags of different provinces of the kingdom. “Here, good farmer,” called one of the commanders. “Look, for we deliver to you these commands from the governors. You have been found delinquent by a council and thus owe all that you have. The field to the south shall go to one, as to the north, the east, and the west. The yield in the mill to another, and your storehouses are seized.” The farmer looked at the documents the commander had given him. “Then my debt is paid and my destitution complete,” he sighed. “If only,” the commander smiled, “look here and see you are not absolved. Your labor will pay off the rest. Toil here as you have before but the fruit shall be for others. And think not that you will slack for our men shall remain to watch over you.” Downcast the farmer hobbled into his home, leaving the decrees of his demise to blow across his farm in the wind.

He worked, harder than he ever worked before, but with his son gone his fields failed him. His mills ground out dust and his storehouses ever remained empty. With his daughter gone his men fought and scuffled, never satisfied with anything. And the farmer, at the end of his long and unproductive days, sat in his simple home, alone, with only the cold draft to keep him company. And so was his way until the end of his days.