Stories
The Light King
This began life in a play The Fantastical Adventures of Leonardo Da Vinci, which I wrote for my friend Phil Morle when he was working in theatre in Australia before he became CTO for Sharman, developing Kazaa and things. This play was commisioned by the International Festival Of Perth. I later re-wrote it and re-named it Renaissance, this version toured throughout the UK in 2000. Anyway this little story is a frivolous tale that was written to explain how light moves, contrary to common belief of Renaissance Europe, that light was projected from the human eye.
In the play Leonardo developed this big performance for the Medicis who were playing host to the Pope. The historical Leonardo Da Vinci did in fact create these amazing masque balls which were extraodinary visual extravanganzas. This story was one of the sketches for that party scene which would outrage the puppet Pope. I suspect that I am trying to explain too much, as this story stands on its own.
The Light King
There was once a King who was so inspired by light. He would spend many hours of the day contemplating it. It would flood over his skin, dazzle him with wonder and when it was cold it would warm him.
On a particularly fine day, when the breeze was soft, an ambassador arrived at the court.
The King was, as always, naked that morning, his soft golden body taught with pleasure, his member saluting, upright, with a bright red imperial helmet. The King saw him enter at once and cried out - “I am being lapped by waves of light! It’s extraordinary, really quite extraordinary.”
The ambassador was a little taken aback. He had seen personages of much importance semi-clad or at most part way naked, but never a royal emblem of such stature and vigour shamelessly indulging himself.
The King by now had bowed his body into a rich, red smile and with one enormous shudder sent small white bolts of lightening over the turrets which flashed and cracked over the crowds which had gathered below.
When the King had quite finished, he turned to the ambassador, whose mouth was aghast and said, “I love the way it bounces.”
The ambassador’s eyes widened.
“The light, man, the light. Have you never noticed how light bounces off objects? I first noticed it when I was a child, dancing on the pillars, through my sheets, around the doorway, and enlightening the key hole. Before I knew it - I was in love.”
The ambassador was shocked. He had ridden like the wind to inform the king, as was the custom of those parts that his people, from the other side of the island, wanted a war.
“Don’t be shocked. I know why you are here,” reassured the King . “I was with you when you left yesterday evening.”
The King appeared behind the ambassador, putting his arm around him. “I surf light like a wave, I travel the length and breadth of the world in less than an instance, in-between words I circle the moon - I arrive as I leave. I am never still”.
The ambassador ran, fell, tumbled down the steps of the tower, only to find that the king, now fully clothed, was waiting at the bottom with a fresh and saddled horse. He mounted his horse to find himself in the court of his own king, an ugly man with a large belly, to hear the Light King begin a poetic speech on peace.
The court of the Fat King was flabbergasted. The light king flashed magically in several places, it seemed, at the same time. Many flashes later the Fat King, who suffered from a bad heart, was dead and many young, healthy men had grey hair.
The Light King arrived home, at the moment he left, and a great and bloody war had been stopped before it had time to start.
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