The Good King: A Pointless Christmas Story
How can a king be expected to remember all these names!?
The good king looked out of his bed chamber window at the thick blanket of fresh, white snow. He frowned. Not because of the snow, of course — it brought joy to his heart to see the snow on this beautiful December morning. It was just so deep and crisp and even; exactly the blanket of snow that he expected to see before Christmas. No, he frowned because he was hungry.
“Susan!” he called. There was no response. “Brenda? Claire? Robert?” He kept trying names, but no one was responding. With a heavy sigh, the king called out: “I’m sorry,” he said, “I have forgotten your name again.”
A servant stepped into the room with a rather hurt expression drawn across his face. “Of course, your majesty. Only the third time today, sire. What can I do for you?”
“Ultimately,” the king said, “I would like a light lunch. But first, will you please remind me of your name?”
“Of course, sire. My name is and always will be Steven. And lunch will be ready in a moment.”
“Steven! Of course! I knew it — I was just about to say Steven, after all.”
“Certainly,” Steven said dryly.
“I promise you, Steven, I will never again forget that your name is Steven.” The king looked quite sure of himself. “Even if I must carve the name ‘Steven’ into my arm, I swear to you that I will never forget, Steven.”
Steven tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, your majesty,” he replied although what he really wanted to say was: we’ve had this exact same conversation everyday for the last three years. Being the king’s valet, he could not afford to be so impertinent of course, so he merely bowed and left the room.
The king looked out again over the snow covered fields of his domain and smiled. He had already forgotten the promise that he had made to… Barry? His valet’s name was Barry, right?
After lunch, the king sat on his throne in the grand banquet hall, overseeing the preparations for the kingdom’s massive, festive Christmas feast. It was the most important social event in the entire kingdom, as far as he was concerned. The one day a year when he could truly show his subjects that he cared deeply about each and every one of them.
“Steven!” he called out to the head decorator, “Steven, please come here a moment.”
His valet, Steven, appeared by his side. “Yes, my lord?” he inquired.
“Oh, hello Steven, what is it?”
Steven looked at him, quite puzzled. “Your majesty, you just called me? Is there something I can help you with?”
“What?” asked the king, “no, I was calling the other Steven.”
“There is no other Steven in the palace,” replied Steven.
“Of course there is,” bellowed the king, now becoming rather upset at the pointless conversation. “The head decorator over there!”
“Ah, sire, you mean Charles!” Steven replied. “Charles — could you come here a moment?”
Charles set down the massive garland he had been carrying and rushed over to the king’s throne. “What can I help you with?” he asked.
“No,” the king replied, “is your name not Steven?”
Charles laughed until he saw the gravely serious expression on the king’s face, and Steven desperately mouthing he’s not joking, he’s not joking. “Oh,” he said, his smile fading quickly, “No, my name isn’t Steven, your majesty. My name is Charles.”
“That just won’t do,” muttered the king, “how am I to remember all these names?” He cleared his throat loudly and dramatically. All the bustling of the feast preparations stopped in an instant. The king stood up and addressed the workers: “Please raise your hand if your name is Steven,” he said in a big, booming, kingly voice.
Steven, his valet, raised his hand, but every other hand in the room remained tactfully by their sides.
“Really,” said the king incredulously, “that just won’t do. I can’t have you all going around with different names that I have to learn. That’s just ludicrous. Steven — please take down this edict.”
Steven produced a quill and a roll of parchment. He listened intently to the king’s decree and wrote it down verbatim. “Very well, sire,” he remarked after he had written it all, “I will have this announced at once.”
The royal trumpeters bleated out a magnificent note, calling the attention of all within the castle walls. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” called the herald as the trumpet note died out.
All fell silent, dropping whatever work they were doing to hear this missive from the king’s herald.
“Ahem,” began the herald, “by order of the king: all people are now named Steven.” The herald looked as shocked to read these words as the citizens did hearing those words.
One brave woman, Steven was her name, spoke up: “What do you mean?” she asked as everyone nodded in agreement.
The herald cleared his throat again, dramatically, “The king has ordered that all first names from here on out be changed to Steven, and that we must now answer to the name of Steven.” Puzzled, he flipped the parchment scroll around, searching for clarification. “If you will,” he continued, “you may keep your current name as your middle name.”
“What about our current middle names?” someone named Steven asked.
The herald sighed. “You can have as many middle names as you wish,” he said, “as long as you answer to the name of Steven. Are there any other questions?”
A young girl raised her hand.
“Yes, Steven?” the herald asked.
“Can I go by Stephanie?”
“Citizens may call themselves Steven, Stephanie, Steve, Stevie, and any and all other forms of the name of Steven given that they will respond to the name of Steven when called.” the herald, Steven, replied with a heavy sigh. “Does that make sense?”
All the Stevens nodded along, indicating that they did understand.
The feast was about to begin. The king sat at his throne at the head of the massive table in the grand banquet hall. He watched, goblet of wine in hand, as the citizenry filed in and took their seats for Christmas Eve dinner. He frowned though, because it seemed to him that he was drinking a white wine when a red wine would be a much better pairing for the heavy pasta dinner they were about to be served.
“Steven!”called the king, hoping to speak to the maître d’hôtel about the mixup in wine pairings. However, it was his valet who appeared beside him.
“Yes, your majesty?”
“Steven? No, I called for Steven!” the king exclaimed.
“Which Steven would you like to speak with, my lord? I could fetch them for you?” Steven tried to hide his delight in the situation, but a smug smirk still made its way to his face.
“Why is it, Steven, that no one ever comes when I call them?” the king asked, in a rare moment of self-awareness.
The spirit of the holidays had already gotten to the valet — or, rather, the spirits of the holiday menu had already gotten to him. He spoke more freely than he ordinarily would. “Perhaps, my lord, it is because you never bothered to learn anyone’s name?”
The king wagged his finger. “Don’t get smart with me, Steven,” he warned, “that couldn’t possibly be the case. I know everyone’s name now, remember? They’re all named Steven.”
The king spotted a waiter nearby and called out to him: “You there — sir!” he called to grab his attention. “What’s your name, good sir? I’ve forgotten.”
The waiter (whose name had been Geoff before the king’s edict that afternoon had changed it to Steven) was on the verge of answering the king’s question.
“Oh of course!” the king exclaimed, cutting him off, “how silly of me to forget — your name is Steven! Keep up the good work!” He turned back to his valet with a smug air of satisfaction. “See?” he probed, “I know everyone’s name because everyone’s name is Steven.”
“Yes of course,” Steven replied, “how very convenient that must be.”
“So then, Steven, why is it that no one seems to come when I call? I’m calling the right name, after all, shouldn’t they respond?”
“Have you considered, good king, that no one knows if you’re calling them or someone else?”
“Why wouldn’t they know?” asked the king, perplexed.
“If everyone has the same name how are they to know if you’re asking for them or for some other Steven?” said Steven thoughtfully. “Is it any different than not knowing their name at all?”
The king thought about it for a moment as he drank his white wine. He decided that Steven might have a point, but further evidence was needed so he tapped his spoon upon the side of his glass.
A ding ding ding echoed around the grand banquet hall. Everyone fell silent. “Steven?”called the king.
“Yes, my lord?” replied every single Steven in unison.
The king was quiet for a moment. “Never mind,” he said finally. The action around the room resumed as the Stevens took their seats and other Stevens brought out food and drink to be placed at the table for the Stevens to consume.
The king turned back to Steven. That is, he turned back to the Steven who’s name had always been Steven. His valet, that is. “Very well, Steven,” he said begrudgingly. “It seems you’re right, again. But what would you have me do about it? I need to be able to call for the people I need to talk to. I am the king after all.”
“Well, my liege,” Steven said, “you could start by learning peoples’ names.”
The king thought for a moment. “Very well, send out another missive that everyone is to go by their own names again. By the way, what was your name again?”
Steven sighed heavily. As he turned to his king, however, he noticed the devilish grin on the old monarch’s face.
“I’m kidding, Steven,” said the king quickly. “But please do help me remember everyone else’s name, will you?”