MICHAEL

On a dark and dismal day, his filthy body clothed in rags, he was pushed to the feet of the local magistrate. Tired and lonely, only about 20 years old, he was ready to die. Cold rain pelted his thin frame.

“What is the charge?” said the magistrate. “He has stolen bread and is guilty of death!” shouted his accuser. He was one of a nameless horde of hungry, starving, and poverty stricken souls.

As they spoke, the king’s finely dressed daughter happened by, her body guards closely following. Perhaps, because it was another dreary day full of mundane purchases at the market or maybe it was the human suffering she saw daily as she walked these familiar streets, nevertheless, in this instance she stopped and interrupted the accusation.

“Are you guilty?” she asked the accused. “My lady, he is nothing more than a common…”

“Did I ask you?” she curtly spoke to the magistrate. “Let him speak for himself. Are you guilty?” she repeated.

The accused, who had been staring with his head toward the mud, dared not look up to her. It was almost a cry when he answered, “I am, my lady.”

The king’s daughter felt the pathetic confession of his guilt and asked further. “Why did you take the bread? Did you not know the penalty for stealing?

“I was hungry my lady, I had not eaten for days,” he explained, still gazing at the ground.
I see this every day, she thought. I can do but little, but I can do something.

“I need another servant. Release him! “ she commanded and so he was set free to serve the king’s daughter and trudged off bewildered, under the watchful eye of the body guards.

They had gone but a little way when she stopped and asked him, “Who are you?”

“I am nothing,” he said, his eyes still looking downward.

“Nonsense!” she responded. “Look at me. Who are you?” she repeated.

His gaze met her and he saw the most beautiful face he had ever seen. “I am the son of a potato farmer,” and he cast his eyes to the earth again.

“Where is your family, your parents, your brothers, your sisters?”

“Dead,” was his solitary reply.

His answer did not really shock her. There were so much of broken dreams and families in this troubled land, but still, his words, ringing with emptiness pierced her soul. She had never acquired a servant before. They had always been chosen by others.

This combined with the circumstances of his falling into her keeping gave a special significance to his situation. “What is your name?”

“Michael.”

To say that his life was forever changed after that day would be the grossest of understatements. He was taught how to bathe and keep himself outwardly clean and was given fresh, new clothing.

Michael was further schooled in the many duties of the palace servants, but instead of learning one servant task and being assigned only there, he was given a new assignment each month, tending the horses, religious instruction, household tasks, grooming the courtyard and many other duties, so that he grew in wisdom and knowledge as the days passed.

He seldom saw the king’s daughter, whose name was Katherine, but now and then he would catch glimpses of her going here or there and she would always smile at him.

The memory of that smiling face, so kind looking, so empathetic would sustain him for weeks.
By and by, as he proved himself a quick and able student, he was given instruction in self defense by the body guards.

After being schooled for over a year in various manners and courtesies of a house servant, he began to grow in confidence and knew many of the names of the other servants, and their backgrounds, having worked with many of them.

He became a very happy and loyal servant, uplifting those around him, was trusted with additional responsibility, until they often sought his company when problems arose.

Unfortunately, after two years of dedicated servitude, enemies attacked the kingdom and eventually the king’s palace.

Michael organized a defense of the palace and along with the king’s body guards, was able to successfully defend the palace, the king and his daughter. Michael was wounded in the exchange, but recovered.

The king was so grateful to Michael and having no sons, gave the kingdom and his daughter, Katherine, to him as his wife.

We could say that they all lived happily ever after but wouldn’t it be better to say that there is a little of Michael in all of us?