The good emperor

No-one else could hold a candle to him

There was once an emperor who lived in a fine Victorian castle on a cliff above the sea. He was a kind, good tempered ruler, and therefore not rich. His beautiful wife, who was always on diet, was of a similar happy disposition and never nagged or scolded, which is quite surprising considering she was always dieting. They had four beautiful children, all grown and seeking their own adventures and fortunes out in the world.

You might have guessed that an emperor such as he would be entirely contented, however, he was not. For some time he had been a little perturbed – and it had nothing to do with the lack of delicious food in the castle larder of late…

“Darling,” he began saying to his wife over breakfast one morning, “I don’t like those curtains up in the guest suite. I think they let our place down.”

“But they were very expensive curtains Your Highness,” she answered, digging her heels in mildly (which is why she called him “Your Highness” sarcastically).

“I know, I know, but they don’t hang straight. Surely, my dear, don’t they bother you? And the curtain rails are far from smooth and gliding,” insisted the unusually vexed Emperor.

At the earliest opportunity the royal couple, accompanied by the Emperor’s dowager mother-in-law, sought out the purveyors of the finest curtains at the best price (they were not going to sell the crown jewels in order to buy the curtains). Upon seeing the perfect curtains in colour, quality and size, the Dowager purchased the correct quantity of cream bundles of silken fabric. The Emperor found five metres of new curtain track for under five pounds. Back at the castle the Emperor’s wife wondered at the cheap curtain track.

“Master,” she began, “would it not be better to spend a little more and acquire a rail that includes cords so that guests may simply open the curtains in one easy movement?”

Soon the Emperor found the Swishest curtain rail available that would not cost a king’s ransom, but which had the desired cords. The Emperor took off his best crown and donned a fake gold party piece of little worth; he put his bejeweled orb on the table, climbed a ladder and set to work. After a week or two he beckoned his wife upstairs to give her opinion on the new curtains on the new rails.

“The curtains look lovely,” said the good wife.

“What about the curtain rails?” the Emperor looked at her intently.

His wife studied the rails, which protruded six inches past the window frames on either side of the bay window, and she could not help but notice the strange and prominent metal brackets that supported the white plastic rail three inches in from each end. The ends still went down.

“They might be alright if you painted those metal things. They look like….um….” she couldn’t say it, not after all the Emperor’s hard work.

“Scaffolding!” helped the Emperor. “And, incidentally, those rails are exactly the same as the ones that I just took down. And they still don’t pull smoothly, and look at how high the cords are up the wall!” And they burst out laughing.

A week or so later the Emperor and his wife stood back to admire his new curtains. Each beautifully hanging, creamy, dreamy curtain glided smoothly back and forth like skaters on ice – by hand, of course. No Swishing. The cheap curtain rails, practically hidden by the new curtains, needed no “scaffolding”. The crown jewels are safe and now the Emperor is completely happy. The Emperor’s wife is vastly relieved and amused. On a whole she’s rather glad that the curtain episode has been drawn to a satisfactory close.

The “ups and downs” in an emperor’s life.