The King's Candles

O NCE upon a time there lived a good king who was driven from his throne by an enemy. A few faithful knights and servants fled with his majesty to a forest where they found shelter in deep, rocky caves.

The flight from the king's palace had been so hasty that the knights and servants could bring only a few things for their king's comfort. It was in the early autumn and his majesty feared it would be necessary to live in secret during the coming winter. You may be sure the king was well pleased to find his knights had brought a few warm blankets and robes. After he had praised his followers for their thoughtfulness in providing for the winter, a young page stepped forward and said, "Your Majesty, I did not bring clothing, but I brought as many candles as I could carry."

"Candles," laughed the king, "now pray tell me, lad, why you brought candles. You served me well in the palace by seeing that my throne was properly lighted, but in our forest exile we shall have little use for candles, I fear."

"Sire," replied the page, "I thought that your majesty would wish to hold council in the evenings, and that I could light your throne seat with candles as was the custom in the palace."

"I fear my throne seat, as you call it, will be nothing more than a rocky ledge for some time," said the king. "See, there is one in the inner cave which will serve. So long as the candles last, my faithful lad, your king will not be obliged to hold council in darkness."

"So long as the candles last," repeated the king's page to himself. "I hope our king's soldiers, who are seeking help, will be able to drive the usurper away before winter comes."

The king and his followers soon adapted themselves to life in exile. During the daytime they hunted game which lurked in the thickets; in the evening they gathered together in the deep cave and held council. Then it was that the king sat on his rude throne lit by two candles.

The king's page with sinking heart saw the candles grow fewer and fewer until there were but two left. Then at last came an evening when the lights were missing from the king's throne. In a dark corner of the cave the little page sat grieving because he could not see his king's face.

It happened one morning that the lad wandered to the edge of the woodland where the highway separated the richly coloured forest trees from a stretch of meadowland where the white mist was slowly lifting. On the roadside was an old woman carrying a large sack on her bent shoulders. When she reached the place where the king's page was standing she set her sack on the ground and looked wistfully at the meadow, then at the deep ditch which separated the field from the highway.

"Shall I help you across the ditch?" asked the king's page.

"Thank you, my lad," said the old woman. "Perhaps I'd better not go across. It would be hard for me to reach the highway again. But I should like a few of those tall mullein spikes. I've none in my bag so fine as those growing in the meadow."

"I'll gather some for you," said the king's page.

He leaped across the ditch, and soon filled his hands with the tall mullein spikes.

The old woman was delighted. She tucked them into her bag and said, "They make such fine winter candles. Thank you, my lad."

"Winter candles!" exclaimed the king's page.

"Aye," nodded the old woman. "Dip them in tallow, a thin coat will do—and you have candles fit for a king. Thank you kindly."

"We are in sore need of candles where I live, but——" the page stopped.

"Use mullein spikes. They make candles fit for a king, I say," and the old woman picked up her sack.

"But we have no tallow," said the lad.

"I can spare you a lump of tallow, my boy. Come along with me to my cottage," said the old woman.

So the king's page carried the sack of mullein spikes to the old woman's cottage and she gave him a large lump of tallow. On his way back he leaped across the ditch again and filled his arms with tall mullein spikes. He hurried back to the cave, melted the tallow, and dipped the weeds into the liquid fat.

When the king and his party returned that evening to the cave, two tall candles were standing on the rude throne.

"See," cried the king's page, "we have a fresh supply of candles."

"Tell us where you got them," said the surprised king.

"They are made from spikes of the mullein weed," explained the king's page. Then he told his majesty about the afternoon's adventure.

"The mullein weed shall have a new name," declared the king. "It shall be called the King's Candles."

A few days later the king called his followers around his throne seat and said, "A message has come to me declaring that the usurper has been driven out of my country. Tomorrow we'll hold a feast in the palace, and the table shall be lighted by 'King's Candles.' "

Every year since that far-off time when the reigning king holds an autumn festival, the banquet table is lighted with mullein spikes dipped in tallow, and they are called the "King's Candles."