A Tale Without a Name

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WHEN OLD KING PRUDENTIUS realized that he had little time left to live, he summoned his son, young Witless, and said to him:

“You’ve had your fill of frolics and amusements for long enough, my son. The time has come for you to marry, and to take in your hands the governance of the State. My time is over. It is now your turn to rule well and to be a good king.”

He therefore dispatched his High Chancellor to the neighbouring kingdom to seek the hand of the beautiful Princess Barmy, on behalf of Witless, son of Prudentius I, King of the Fatalists.

The wedding took place amidst great joy and sumptuous feasting, and a few days later, after he had given his blessing to his children, old Prudentius went the way of all flesh, and Witless was crowned king.

Everything seemed rosy and enviable for the young couple. The coffers of old Prudentius were filled to bursting point with gold florins; the kingdom was ringed and strong-walled by mighty citadels brimming with soldiers; the splendid palace, built high up on a densely wooded mountain, reigned supreme over the capital below, where its citizens lived in good prosperity; wide and well-paved thoroughfares linked the kingdom of the Fatalists with kingdoms nearby.

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