THE KING WHO LOVED STORIES —England?—early 1900s
Source: Story Socks, Dale W. Pepin

This story, a favourite of mine, helped me to realize the never-ending influence of stories and storytelling.  See the note at the end of the story.*

Story:
Once, a long, long time ago, there lived a king.  More than anything else in the whole wide world, this king loved to listen to stories.  He listened to stories while he ate his meals, he listened to stories while he conducted state business, he listened to stories while he rested and, each night, he insisted on hearing a story as he fell asleep.  (Of course, that story always had to be repeated the next morning at breakfast since the king missed the ending.)

One day the king had an idea and so he issued a royal proclamation.  It read:

BE IT KNOWN THAT
I, YOUR KING,
WILL GIVE TWO BAGS OF GOLD
TO ANYONE WHO CAN TELL
ME A STORY THAT MAKES ME CRY
"STOP, ENOUGH, NO MORE STORY"

And then, in tiny print at the bottom of the proclamation it said:

"However, failure to do so will result in immediate imprisonment."

Storytellers came from far and wide trying to win the gold. They bowed low before the king and would say, "Once upon a time...", or "Long, long ago...", or "Long ago, when the world was new and the mists of heaven still covered the earth..."

But before the king said a word, the storyteller would always say, "The End," or "That's the way it was," or "They all lived happily ever after" and so, they would find themselves in the deepest, darkest depths of the imperial dungeons.

One day, up to the castle came an old man. He rapped on the castle doors. The guard answered.

"What do you want, old man?" asked the guard.

"Oh, please, sir," said the old man, "I wish to tell the king a story."

"Go away," said the guard. "Don't you know that others have tried and failed?"

"But I shan't fail," retorted the storyteller.

"You will end up as did they. In the depths of the king's dungeon."

"But I want to win the two bags of gold."

Finally, the guard gave in and ushered the old man into the throne room. There the old man bowed low before the king and began his story.

"Once, your majesty, there lived a farmer and at harvest time he gathered all of his wheat and placed it into the huge silo that stood behind his barn.  But what the farmer didn't know, your majesty, was that in the side of the silo was a tiny hole just large enough for a single ant to pass through with a grain of wheat on his back.

"That night, an ant left his colony.  He crossed the yard, climbed the silo, passed through the hole and took a grain of wheat.  Then, reversing his path, he returned to his colony.

"Well, on the second night a second ant took a second grain of wheat.

"And on the third night a third ant took a third grain of wheat."

"Then your majesty, on the fourth night a fourth ant took a fourth grain of wheat and on the fifth night a fifth ant took a fifth grain of wheat.

"On the next night a sixth ant took a sixth grain of wheat.  On the next night a seventh ant took a seventh grain of wheat and, thus, your majesty, ended the first week."

"Yes, yes," said the king.  "Continue with the story."

"Well, sire, on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat."

"Yes, yes," said the king. "But get on with the story."

"Oh, your majesty, I'm telling as fast as I can but you see, sire, there are lots of ants and lots of grains of wheat.

"Well, on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and on the next night another ant took another grain of wheat and..."

"ENOUGH WITH THE ANTS," cried the king. "Oh, dear, did I just say 'ENOUGH?'."

"Yes, you did, your majesty," said the storyteller.

With that the king kept his promise and gave the storyteller the two bags of gold, and the storyteller returned to his cottage where he lived happy and rich all the rest of his days."
________________________________________________

NOTE: Because of the nature of the sock box, one of the socks contains a craft ball in which are approximately 100 little plastic ants. As I tell the story, I drop an ant from one half to the other. Usually one of the audience, and if not them then my wife, will call out "Enough" and that's my cue to end the story.
________________________________________________
 
*In 2004 I told this story during the London International Children's Festival.  While I was telling I noticed a tall, matronly lady join the audience while holding tightly to the hand of a small girl at her side.
 
The couple stayed through the story and for the rest of the set.
 
Following the show, the lady approached me and introduced her grand-daughter to me.
 
Then, she proceeded to explain that she had first heard the story of the "Ants" from her own grandfather when they emigrated from England to Canada.  Now, I had told the same story to her grand-daughter.
 
It was only then that it struck me that my story had spanned five generations.  The story was indeed timeless.
 
One never knows the influence that one's telling will have on the lives of those in the audience.
 
Dale
STORY SOCKS
c/o Dale W. Pepin
P.O. Box 1087
Copper Cliff, ON
Canada
P0M 1N0
 
PHONE (705) 682-3440
FACSIMILE (705) 682-4418
dalejeannine.pepin@sympatico.ca

"Let us not forget that children's stories are not just for children. The very good ones teach us where to go when we're young and remind us where we've been when we're older. And the best ones help to keep us forever young."
•••••

Other online versions (aka The Endless Tale or The Tale Without an End):
http://www.ferrum.edu/applit/texts/endless.htm - full text story of rats instead of ants
http://www.efl4u.com/LCS4.html - a lesson plan

(This web page created 4/9/06)