From a collection
of stories soon to be published by Sally Holt
Once upon a time there was a king who lived with his lady in a palace high on a hill overlooking the valley. The king
yearned to be a dictator, believing that his superior intelligence surpassed the knowledge of all the others in the kingdom.
He frequently declared what he would do if and when he were allowed to dictate. However, the peasants in the kingdom were
happy with their lives as they were, and refused to elect this king as their dictator.
Not having anything of worth to do with his time, the king sat around nibbling on Black Forest Rye Bread. He and his
lady sat and admired the sunsets at the end of each day. One day his lady glanced over at him and said, "King, dear, I fear
you are getting just a bit chubby in the middle. The palace surgeon has advised me that you must stop eating that rye bread."
"But my love," replied the king, "that is like nectar to my tongue and I must have it every day. I will not be able
to give it up" And he didn’t.
The king’s lady put out an order to all the bakers in the kingdom that they were to immediately discontinue baking
Black Forest Rye Bread. No one was to sell or give any to the king, no matter how much he begged. All fields of rye were plowed
under.
The king used all his wiles in an attempt to get his bread, even offering bribes of gold and silver, all to no avail.
Everyone in the kingdom feared the wrath of the king’s lady and wished to do nothing to displease her.
Eventually the king fell into such despair that he joined a writing group so he would have someone to listen to his
tale of woe. The peasants and the moderator listened to his lamentations and encouraged him in his writing efforts. But they
refused to elect him as their dictator so he did not have the necessary clout to order the bakers to start baking his favorite
bread.
It came to pass that an old peasant lady read a story about how she had come upon a secret source for fourteen varieties
of sauerkraut. The king asked her what she used this sauerkraut for and the old lady told him that she often used it in Reuben
sandwiches.
"But Reuben sandwiches are no good unless they are made with black rye bread," the king sadly moaned, "and that is
impossible to get in this kingdom." "Oh, but I have a secret supplier for that,
too," the old woman gleefully whispered as she walked away. "Tell me, please
tell me where to go for it," begged the king. "That is my secret and it shall remain with me," said the old peasant woman.
Week after week the king tried to trick the old woman into telling him where this bread was located. But she cunningly
denied him access to the information.
"What would it take for you to tell me your source? What is it that you most desire, old woman, and I will get it for
you," pleaded the king. After thinking for sometime, the old peasant woman said, "I would like a big bowl of fresh raspberries.
Get them for me and I will bring you some bread."
"But raspberries are only for royalty," said the king very indignantly. "Well
then, Black Forest Rye Bread shall have to remain only for peasants." And with that, the old woman turned and walked away. "Wait! Wait!" called the king. "I’ll see what I can do. Meet me again next week
and I’ll give you my answer."
The king went home to his palace on the hill and frantically wondered how he could raise some raspberries. His land
was not suited to gardening so he went to a neighboring palace and asked the gardener for instructions. The gardener told
the king he would have to whack weeds, dig trenches and haul in many tons of special soil and fertilizer, then he would have
to construct a protective covering over the raspberry bushes so that the royal deer would not eat them.
The king did all these things as instructed and his lady was pleased to see him out whacking the weeds that had annoyed
her for years. When she found out that she was going to have fresh raspberries on her property, she was ecstatic. The king
even built some houses for the lovely bluebirds who came to the palace each spring in response to his lady’s melodic
whistling.
One day as they were watching a spectacular sunset, the king’s lady looked up from piecing her newest quilt and said to him, "King, dear, all that whacking of weeds seems to have eliminated
your extra padding and as a reward, I am going to tell the bakers of the land that they can once again bake your favorite
Black Forest Rye Bread." And she did.
But alas, the farmers had stopped growing rye and the bakers now had no flour for this special bread. Once again the
king set out to find the old peasant woman. "Old peasant woman," he said, "my
bakers have no rye flour to make bread for me. Where do you get your bread?" "It is prepared away from this kingdom by Indian
maidens and only I know where they are hidden. I will bring some for you, in exchange for fresh raspberries." "Oh, thank you,"
said the king.
And that is how it came to pass that the old peasant woman began bringing a round loaf of Black Forest Rye Bread every
week to the king-who-longed-to-be-a-dictator. From that time on, he has had two slices of the toasted bread every morning
and is living healthily ever after while his lady stitches happily on her quilts in The Royal Quiltworks.
.Sally Dyer Holt (c) 2003
“This
nonsensical tale came to me from out of nowhere following a question from Harriet asking how in heaven’s name I got
started making a round trip of twelve miles every Monday to purchase rye bread to bring to Norman, another classmate.”
SDH
Used by permission of author.
All rights retained by Sally Dyer Holt
