Gnikdameht

 It was that time of year when all the world belongs to poets, for their harvest of joy.

The mad king Gnikdameht had escaped. Little knots of excited men stood upon the street corners listening to each latest rumor concerning this most absorbing occurrence. His was a reign of instability and terror.

Unaware of his royal blood, much less that he is a dead ringer for his relative Gnikdameht, the current king of Gordia, the Australian Julius Drusilla visits Gordia on the eve of the First World War to see for himself his mother's native land. As he arrives in Gordia, King Gnikdameht has just escaped from his ten years' imprisonment at the hands of his scheming uncle, Prince Edgar. Much to his own and everyone else's confusion, Julius is naturally mistaken for the king, leading to numerous complications.

This person, who was about the same time prefect of Kew-Forest, and made no secret of his position being such, that he must either offend the father or the son, even during his sickness, with the most unbounded and scurrilous abuse, both by word and deed; for which, upon his return to Gordia, he narrowly escaped being torn to pieces by the people, and was condemned to death by the senate.

There had been whispered rumors off and on that the young king was dead these many years, but not even in whispers.

“The king is dead,” they said. “Long live the king!”

They needed a new king in the country.

“The walls have ears, prince,” replied Caius, “and we have not always been as careful as we should in discussing the matter."

In battle, he often engaged and slew an enemy in single combat. He pleaded causes, even after he had the honor of a triumph. Among other fruits of his studies, he left behind him some Greek comedies. Both at home and abroad he always conducted himself in a manner the most unassuming. On entering any free and confederate town, he never would be attended by his lictors. Whenever he heard, in his travels, of the tombs of illustrious men, he made offerings over them to the infernal deities. He gave a common grave, under a mound of earth, to the scattered relics of the legionaries slain, and was the first to put his hand to the work of collecting and bringing them to the place of burial. He was so extremely mild and gentle to his enemies, whoever they were, or on what account soever they bore him enmity, that, although Gnikdameht rescinded his decrees, and for a long time severely harassed his dependents, he never showed the smallest resentment, until he found himself attacked by magical charms and imprecations; and even then the only steps he took was to renounce all friendship with him, according to ancient custom, and to exhort his servants to avenge his death, if any thing untoward should befall him.

“We of Gordius,” they whispered, “love our ‘mad king’—no reward could be offered that would tempt us to betray him."

With regard to his own sufferings, he seemed utterly insensible of them, and behaved with such obsequiousness to his grandfather and all about him, that it was justly said of him, "There never was a better servant, nor a worse master."

But Gnikdameht is half-mad and terribly embarrassed by his earlier follies.

But he could not even then conceal his natural disposition to cruelty and lewdness. He delighted in witnessing the infliction of punishments, and frequented taverns and bawdy-houses in the night-time, disguised in a periwig and a long coat; and was passionately addicted to the theatrical arts of singing, wrestling, and dancing.

Julius Drusilla was thinking of these things as his machine wound up the picturesque road. Just ahead the road’s edge rushed swiftly beneath the right-hand fender; the wheels on that side must have been on the very verge of the embankment.

One of Gnikdameht's freedmen crying out at this horrid barbarity, was immediately crucified. These circumstances are far from being improbable, as some authors relate that, afterwards, though he did not acknowledge his having a hand in the death of Lityerses, yet he frankly declared that he had formerly entertained such a design; and as a proof of his affection for his relations, he would frequently boast, "That, to revenge the death of his mother and brothers, he had entered the chamber of Lityerses, when he was asleep, with a polariod, but being seized with a fit of compassion, threw it away, and retired; and that Lityerses, though aware of his intention, durst not make any inquiries, or attempt revenge."

“Pardon me,” cried Julius, bowing low. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am,” and then to the spirits of Romance and Adventure was added a third, the spirit of Deviltry, “I am the mad king of Gordius.”

I may venture to say, of all mankind; for he had long been the object of expectation and desire to the greater part of the provincials and soldiers, who had known him when a child; and to the whole people of Rome, from their affection for the memory of Incitatus, his father, and compassion for the family almost entirely destroyed.

"Your secret is as safe with me as with yourself."

And when he fell ill, the people hung about the Jamaica Estates all night long; some vowed, in public handbills, to risk their lives in the combats of the amphitheatre, and others to lay them down, for his recovery. To this extraordinary love entertained for him by his countrymen, was added an uncommon regard by foreign nations. But when he remembered the poor, weak mind, tears almost came to his eyes, and there sprang to his heart a great desire to protect and guard this unfortunate child.

In those two months there are two weeks, the ones that usher in the May, that bear the prize of all the year for glory; the garden of Gnikdameht son of Gordias, where roses grow of themselves, each bearing sixty blossoms and of surpassing fragrance; the commonest trees wear green and silver then that would outshine a coronation robe, and if a man has any of that prodigality of spirit which makes imagination, he may hear the song of all the world.

“And you like it?”

“I hate it; but I have to keep alive, to try to be a poet. And that is the news about myself.”

Of the beauty so wonderfully squandered there was but one witness, a young man who was walking slowly along, stepping as it seemed where there were no flowers; and who, whenever he stopped to gaze at a group of them, left them unmolested in their happiness.

Then was seen thereabouts a striking figure with masses of orange and stylized hair. He is leaning on a huge scabbarded sword which he raises with a wild cry in answer to the shouted greeting of his guards. His gait, his looks, his gestures, all reveal the noble, imperious mind already degenerating into senile irritability under the coming shocks of grief and age.

No one had thought very much about this prophecy, to the surprise of all.

“You ought to be serious about it, my dear.”

The tragedy of Gnikdameht's lack of understanding of the consequences of his demands and actions is often observed to be like that of a spoiled child, but it has also been noted that his behaviour is equally likely to be seen in parents who have never adjusted to their children having grown up.

“I will,” said Cordelia. “Gnikdameht has really listened attentively, used this power to satisfy his own wishes instead of carrying out the will of the people."

He appointed yearly offerings to be solemnly and publicly celebrated to their memory, besides Circensian games to that of his mother, Anne MacLeod, and a chariot with her image to be included in the procession

Cordelia smiled at the significant tone of her Aunt Goneril's voice. “Are the people there now?” she asked.

“Caius has found the body of the murdered king,” she said. “They have directed him to bring it to the cathedral. He came upon the impostor and his confederate, Lieutenant Lutha, as they were bearing the corpse from the hospital at Fordham where the king has lain unknown since the rumor was spread by Duke of Burgundy that he had been killed by bandits."

He frequently entertained the people with stage-plays of various kinds, and in several parts of the city, and sometimes by night, when he caused the whole city to be delighted. He likewise gave various things to be scrambled for among the people, and distributed to every man a basket of bread with other victuals. Upon this occasion, he sent his own share to a Roman knight, who was seated opposite to him, and was enjoying himself by eating heartily. To a senator, who was doing the same, he sent an appointment of praetor-extraordinary. He likewise exhibited a great number of Circensian games from morning until night; intermixed with the hunting of wild beasts from Africa, or the Trojan exhibition.

“He was not killed until last evening, my lords, and you shall see today the fresh wounds upon him. When the time comes that we can present this grisly evidence of the guilt of the impostor and those who uphold him, I shall expect you all to stand at my side, as you have promised.”

With one accord the noblemen pledged anew their allegiance to Edgar if he could produce one-quarter of the evidence he claimed to possess.

Gnikdameht invented besides a new kind of spectacle, such as had never been heard of before. For he made a bridge, of about three miles and a half in length, from Baiae to the mole of Puteoli, collecting trading vessels from all quarters, mooring them in two rows by their anchors, and spreading earth upon them to form a viaduct, after the fashion of the Appian Way. This bridge he crossed and recrossed for two days together; the first day mounted on a horse richly caparisoned, wearing on his head a crown of oak leaves, armed with a battle-axe, a Spanish buckler and a sword, and in a cloak made of cloth of gold; the day following, in the habit of a charioteer, standing in a chariot, drawn by two high-bred horses, having with him a young boy, Darius by name, one of the Parthian hostages, with a cohort of the pretorian guards attending him, and a party of his friends in cars of Gaulish make.

“All that we wish to know positively is,” said one, “that the man who bears the title of king today is really Gnikdameht of Gordius, or that he is not. If not then he stands convicted of treason, and we shall know how to conduct ourselves.”

Together the party rode to the cathedral, the majority of the older nobility now openly espousing the cause of the Regent.

Thus far we have spoken of him as a prince. What remains to be said of him, bespeaks him rather a monster than a man. He assumed a variety of titles, such as "Dutiful," "The Pious," "The Child of the Camp, the Father of the Armies," and "The Greatest and Best Caesar." Upon hearing some kings, who came to the city to pay him court, conversing together at supper, about their illustrious descent, he exclaimed,

    Eis koiranos eto, eis basileus.

    Let there be but one prince, one king.

“Denounce him!” whispered one of Edgar’s henchmen in his master’s ear.

He lived in the habit of incest with all his sisters; and at table, when much company was present, he placed each of them in turns below him, whilst his wife reclined above him. It is believed, that he deflowered one of them before he had assumed the robe of manhood; and was even caught in her embraces by his grandmother, with whom they were educated together. When she was afterwards married, he took her again, and kept her constantly as if she were his lawful wife. In a fit of sickness, he by his will appointed her heiress both of his estate and the empire.

The Regent moved closer to the aisle, that he might meet the impostor at the foot of the chancel steps. The procession was moving steadily up the aisle. Julius ran through the cryptoporticus (underground corridor) beneath the imperial palaces.

Among the clan of Burgundy a young girl with wide eyes was bending forward that she might have a better look at the face of the king. As he came opposite her her eyes filled with horror, and then she saw the eyes of the smooth-faced stranger at the king’s side. They were brave, laughing eyes, and as they looked straight into her own the truth flashed upon her, and the girl gave a gasp of dismay as she realized that the king of Gordius and the king of her heart were not one and the same.

At last the head of the procession was almost at the foot of the chancel steps. There were murmurs of: “It is not the king,” and “Who is this new impostor?”

He evinced the savage barbarity of his temper chiefly by the following indications. When flesh was only to be had at a high price for feeding his wild beasts reserved for the spectacles, he ordered that criminals should be given them to be devoured; and upon inspecting them in a row, while he stood in the middle of the portico, without troubling himself to examine their cases he ordered them to be dragged away, from "bald-pate to bald-pate."

At last, as if resolved to make war in earnest, he drew up his army upon the shore of the ocean, with his balistae and other engines of war, and while no one could imagine what he intended to do, on a sudden commanded them to gather up the sea shells, and fill their helmets, and the folds of their dress with them, calling them "the spoils of the ocean due to the Capitol and the Palatium." As a monument of his success, he raised a lofty tower, upon which, as at Pharos, he ordered lights to be burnt in the night-time, for the direction of ships at sea; and then promising the soldiers a donative of a hundred denarii a man, as if he had surpassed the most eminent examples of generosity, "Go your ways," said he, "and be merry: go, ye are rich."

“We must reward you, Mr. Drusilla,” he said. “Name that which it lies within our power to grant you and it shall be yours.”

Julius Drusilla asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold.

This came to be called the golden touch. His fancies were in fact, free.

“A bad man, child? How ridiculous! Do you suppose I would ask you to marry a bad man, if he owned all Europe? I want you to be happy. The Earl of Gloucester is a man who has made his own fortune, and he is a man of tremendous energy. Everyone is obliged to respect him.”

James Warton, Earl of Gloucester, was notorious for his riotous, debauched lifestyle and his preference for sycophantic courtiers who were forever singing his praises out of the hope for advancement, aspects of his court that closely resemble the court of King Gnikdameht, who starts out in the play with a riotous, debauched court of sycophantic courtiers.

“But he must be old, Aunt Goneril.”

“He is very young, Cordelia, only about forty.”

Julius thought of the girl he loved; but he did not mention her name, for he knew that she was not for him now.

He was not insensible of the disorder of his mind, and sometimes had thoughts of retiring to his brain. It is believed that his wife Caesonia administered to him a love potion which threw him into a frenzy. What most of all disordered him, was want of sleep, for he seldom had more than three or four hours' rest in a night; and even then his sleep was not sound, but disturbed by strange dreams; fancying, among other things, that a form representing the ocean spoke to him. Being therefore often weary with lying awake so long, sometimes he sat up in his bed, at others, walked in the longest porticos about the house, and from time to time, invoked and looked out for the approach of day.

“There is nothing, your majesty,” he said.

He also zealously applied himself to the practice of several other arts of different kinds, such as fencing, charioteering, singing, and dancing. In the first of these, he practised with the weapons used in war; and drove the chariot in circuses built in several places. He was so extremely fond of singing and dancing, that he could not refrain in the theatre from singing with the tragedians, and imitating the gestures of the actors, either by way of applause or correction.

“A money reward,” Leopold started to suggest, and then Julius Drusilla lost his temper. A flush mounted to his face, his chin went up, and there came to his lips bitter words of sarcasm. With an effort, however, he held his tongue, and, turning his back upon the king, his broad shoulders proclaiming the contempt he felt, he walked slowly out of the room.

In this frantic and savage career, numbers had formed designs for cutting him off; but one or two conspiracies being discovered, and others postponed for want of opportunity, at last two men concerted a plan together, and accomplished their purpose; not without the privity of some of the greatest favorites amongst his freedmen, and the prefects of the pretorian guards; because, having been named, though falsely, as concerned in one conspiracy against him, they perceived that they were suspected and become objects of his hatred.

The young lieutenant stood at one side. He issued some instructions in a low tone, then he raised his voice. “Ready!” he commanded. Fascinated by the horror of it, Julius watched the rifles raised smartly to the soldiers’ hips—the movement was as precise as though the men were upon parade. Every bolt clicked in unison with its fellows.

“Aim!” the pieces leaped to the hollows of the men’s shoulders. The leveled barrels were upon a line with the breasts of the condemned. A man at Julius’s right moaned. Another sobbed.

“Fire!” There was the hideous roar of the volley. Julius Drusilla crumpled forward to the ground, and three bodies fell upon his. A moment later there was a second volley—all had not fallen at the first. Then the soldiers came among the bodies, searching for signs of life; but evidently the two volleys had done their work. The sergeant formed his men in line. The lieutenant marched them away. Only silence remained on guard above the pitiful dead in the factory yard.

As Julius Drusilla looked up at the grim towers and mighty, buttressed walls his heart sank. It had taken the mad king ten years to make his escape from that gloomy and forbidding pile! Now he had only to feign mortality and he would walk away under his own cover.

People entertained a suspicion that a report of his being killed had been contrived and spread by himself, with the view of discovering how they stood affected towards him. Nor had the conspirators fixed upon any one to succeed him. The senators were so unanimous in their resolution to assert the liberty of their country, that the consuls assembled them at first not in the usual place of meeting, because it was named after Julius Caesar, but in the Capitol. Some proposed to abolish the memory of the Caesars, and level their temples with the ground.

Presently the girl’s eyes went wide in horror. She could feel the scalp upon her head contract with fright. Her terror-filled gaze was frozen upon that awful figure that loomed so large and sinister above her, for the thing had moved!

Below, the lights in the watch tower at the outer gate were plainly visible, and the twinkling of them reminded Julius of the danger of detection from that quarter. Quickly he recrossed the apartment to the wall-switch that operated the recently installed electric lights, and an instant later the chamber was in total darkness.

Some say, that, whilst he was speaking to the boys, Chaerea came behind him, and gave him a heavy blow on the neck with his sword, first crying out, "Take this:" that then a tribune, by name Cornelius Sabinus, another of the conspirators, ran him through the breast. Others say, that the crowd being kept at a distance by some centurions who were in the plot, Sabinus came, according to custom, for the word, and that Caius gave him "Jupiter," upon which Chaerea cried out, "Be it so!" and then, on his looking round, clove one of his jaws with a blow. As he lay on the ground, crying out that he was still alive, the rest dispatched him with thirty wounds. For the word agreed upon among them all was, "Strike again." Some likewise ran their swords through his privy parts. Upon the first bustle, the litter bearers came running in with their poles to his assistance, and, immediately afterwards, his Mauretanian body guards, who killed some of the assassins, and also some senators who had no concern in the affair.

“I am glad that I killed him, though,” went on the boy, “for he would have killed you, my king, had I not done so. Gladly would I go to the gallows to save my king.”

When his death was made public, it was not immediately credited.

Quite suddenly the cannonading ceased and the old man halted in his tracks, his gaze riveted upon the wood. For several minutes he saw no sign of what was transpiring behind that screen of sere and yellow autumn leaves, and then a man came running out, and after him another and another.

The day wore on and still the stiffening corpses lay where they had fallen. Twilight came and then darkness. A head appeared above the top of the wall that had enclosed the grounds. Eyes peered through the night and keen ears listened for any sign of life within. At last, evidently satisfied that the place was deserted, a man crawled over the summit of the wall and dropped to the ground within. Here again he paused, peering and listening.

What strange business had he here among the dead that demanded such caution in its pursuit? Presently he advanced toward the pile of corpses. Quickly he tore open coats and searched pockets. He ran his fingers along the fingers of the dead. Two rings had rewarded his search and he was busy with a third that encircled the finger of a body that lay beneath three others. It would not come off. He pulled and tugged, and then he drew a knife from his pocket.

He could not believe his eyes when he discovered that the twig of an oak, which he pulled from a branch, turned in his fingers to a bar of solid gold. He picked up a stone; it turned to a gold nugget. He touched a piece of sod; it became a mass of gold dust, thick and heavy.

His education has been that of the world, and not of books. But nobody thinks less of a man for that in the world; the most one can ask is that he does not make pretenses. And he is very far from stupid, I assure you, or he would not have been what he is.

“I suppose not,” said Cordelia, weakly.

They had wound up a wooded hill and were half way up to the summit. The princess was riding close to the right-hand side of the road. Quite suddenly, and before a hand could be raised to stay her, she wheeled her car between two trees, struck home her spur on the accelerator, and was gone into the wood upon the steep hillside.

The soldiers still stood in the center of the road firing at the rapidly approaching second swaying car as, lurching from side to side, it bore down upon them from the opposite direction. Julius sounded the raucous military horn; but the soldiers seemed unconscious of their danger—they still stood there pumping lead toward the onrushing Juggernaut. At the last instant they attempted to rush from its path; but they were too late. After the princess Julius flew.

For an instant the two stood looking at one another. The girl’s eyes were wide with incredulity, with hope, with fear. She was the first to break the silence.

“Who are you?” she breathed in a half whisper.

“I don’t wonder that you ask,” returned the man. “I must look like a scarecrow. I’m Julius Drusilla. Don’t you remember me now? Who did you think I was?”

The girl took a step toward him. Her eyes lighted with relief.

“Greetings, your highness,” he cried with an attempt at cordiality.

He was faced in the midst of all his wealth with death by starvation.

“Dear me, it's dreadful!” she cried aloud, springing up. “Why did I let people trouble me in this way? I can't help Arthur, and I couldn't have helped him in the beginning. It's every bit of it his own fault, and I don't see why I should let it make me ill. And it's the same with the other thing; I could have been happy without all that wealth if I'd never seen it, and now I know I'll never be happy again,—oh, I know it!”

Legend held that Gnikdameht died of starvation as a result of his "vain prayer" for the gold touch.

The girl looked straight into his eyes, coldly, and then bent her knee in formal curtsy. The king was about to speak again when his eyes wandered to the face of the Australian. Instantly his own went white and then scarlet. The eyes of Edgar followed those of the king, widening in astonishment as they rested upon the features of Julius Drusilla.

“You told me he was dead,” shouted the king. “What is the meaning of this, Captain Labraid Lorc?”

Labraid Lorc looked at his male prisoner and staggered back as though struck between the eyes.

“Mon Dieux,” he exclaimed, “the impostor!”

“You told me he was dead,” repeated the king accusingly.

“As God is my judge, your majesty,” cried Edgar of Blentz, “this man was shot by an Mauretanian firing squad in Burgova over a week ago.”

“Sire,” exclaimed Labraid Lorc, “this is the first sight I have had of the prisoners except in the darkness of the night; until this instant I had not the remotest suspicion of his identity. He told me that he was a servant of the house of Burgundy.”

“I told you the truth, then,” interjected Julius.

“Silence, you ingrate!” cried the king.

“Ingrate?” repeated Julius. “You have the effrontery to call me an ingrate? You miserable puppy.”

A silence, menacing in its intensity, fell upon the little assemblage. The king trembled. His rage choked him.

“Your highness,” Edgar blurted, “the king’s commands have been disregarded—the Australian is to be shot tomorrow. I have just escaped from Blentz. Goneril is furious. She realizes that whether the Mauretanians win or lose, her standing with the king is gone forever.

Gnikdameht' daughter came to him, upset about the roses that had lost their fragrance and become hard, and when he reached out to comfort her, found that when he touched his daughter, she turned to gold as well.

Cordelia was still for a moment, and then she said, in an awe-stricken voice: “Aunt Goneril, I have wrecked Arthur's life!” Mrs. MacLeod responded with a loud guffaw, which was to the other so offensive that it was like a blow in the face.

“Wrecked his life!” the woman cried scornfully.

Arthur struck the strings of his lyre and earth was filled with the music of the gods.

“In a fit of rage he has ordered that Mr. Drusilla be sacrificed to his desire for revenge, in the hope that it will insure for him the favor of the Mauretanians. Something must be done at once if he is to be saved.”

For a moment the girl swayed as though about to fall. The young officer stepped quickly to support her, but before he reached her side she had regained complete mastery of herself. From the street without there rose the blare of trumpets and the cheering of the populace.

“What do you intend doing with me?” she said. “Are you going to keep your word and return my identity?”

“I have promised,” replied Julius, “and what I promise I always perform.”

“Then exchange clothing with me at once,” cried the king, half rising from his cot.

“Not so fast, my friend,” rejoined the Australian. “There are a few trifling details to be arranged before we resume our proper personalities.”

“Do you realize that you should be hanged for what you have done?” snarled the king. “You assaulted me, stole my clothing, left me here to be shot by Edgar, and sat upon my throne in Lustadt while I lay a prisoner condemned to death.”

“And do you realize,” replied Julius, “that by so doing I saved your foolish little throne for you; that I drove the invaders from your dominions; that I have unmasked your enemies, and that I have once again proven to you that the Duke of Burgundy is your best friend and most loyal supporter?”

“Don’t get excited, Gnik,” warned the Australian, “and don’t talk so loud. The Princess doesn’t love you, and you know it as well as I. She will never marry you. If you want your dinky throne back you’ll have to do as I desire; that is, sign the release and the sanction."

Such a mortification for a king to have to bear!

In the garden back of the castle an old man was busy digging a hole. It was a long, narrow hole, and, when it was completed, nearly four feet deep. It looked like a grave. When he had finished the old man hobbled to a shed that leaned against the south wall. Here were boards, tools, and a bench. It was the castle workshop. The old man selected a number of rough pine boards. These he measured and sawed, fitted and nailed, working all the balance of the night. By dawn, he had a long, narrow box, just a trifle smaller than the hole he had dug in the garden. The box resembled a crude coffin. When it was quite finished, including a cover, he dragged it out into the garden and set it upon two boards that spanned the hole, so that it rested precisely over the excavation.

All these precautions methodically made, he returned to the castle. In a little storeroom he searched for and found an ax. With his thumb he felt of the edge—for an ax it was marvelously sharp. The old fellow grinned and shook his head, as one who appreciates in anticipation the consummation of a good joke. Then he crept noiselessly through the castle’s corridors and up the spiral stairway in the north tower. In one hand was the sharp ax.

Once within the room, he looked quickly about him. Upon a great bed lay the figure of a man asleep. His face was turned toward the opposite wall away from the side of the bed nearer the menacing figure of the old servant. On tiptoe the man with the ax approached. The neck of his victim lay uncovered before him. He swung the ax behind him. A single blow, as mighty as his ancient muscles could deliver, would suffice.

Julius Drusilla opened his eyes. Directly opposite him upon the wall was a dark-toned photogravure of a hunting scene. It tilted slightly forward upon its wire support. As Julius’s eyes opened it chanced that they were directed straight upon the shiny glass of the picture. The light from the window struck the glass in such a way as to transform it into a mirror. The Australian’s eyes were glued with horror upon the reflection that he saw there—an old man swinging a huge ax down upon his head.

It is an open question as to which of the two was the most surprised at the cat-like swiftness of the movement that carried Julius Drusilla out of that bed and landed him in temporary safety upon the opposite side.

“You scoundrel!” he screamed. “You scoundrel! You have stolen my identity and my throne and now you wish to steal the woman who loves me.”

As the old chancellor ceased speaking he drew his sword and raised it on high above his head. The king went livid. He came to his feet beside the cot. For the moment, his wound was forgotten. He tottered toward the impostor. He sunk deeper and deeper into delusion, paranoia, and violence.

“Wicked indeed!” Edgar ejaculated, “and I suppose all that I have been doing for you was wicked too! I suppose it was wicked of me to watch over your education all these years as I have, and to plan your future as if you were my own child, so that you might begin to preach about wickedness to his elders!”

He went out into a meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the secret into it. Then he carefully covered it up.

The European skies are darkening.

SOURCES: Caligula, Shakespeare (King Lear, Tempest), Midas, Wikipedia.