Springtime
A Snapshot
It was in the springtime of that year that the king formally announced the tricentennial feast. On the morning of the vernal equinox, he stood on the steps of the Hall of Justice and one thousand of his finest soldiers stood arrayed in front of him, adorned in silver mail, holding spears tipped with gold. The people of the city turned out to watch the celebration, which would inaugurate one year of festivities commemorating the three-hundredth anniversary of the founding of their nation. The sun was bright. It glinted off the silver mail of the soldiers, which stood out against the deep blue of the sky. The flowers had just begun to bloom.
“On this day,” intoned the king, his voice amplified by the palace magicians so that every citizen in the city could hear him as clear as if he were standing next to them. “Some three centuries ago, our fathers put down their arms and found that at last their enemies would leave them in peace. In council for twelve days, they preceded to lay out the laws, which are inscribed in our Book of Laws, and which have guided our civilization from those early days up to our current hour.
They were but humble men, but they had the foresight to see that the nation which they established would grow into a mighty empire. But even they could not imagine the civilization we have today. The great halls of learning and the theaters and the great museums of art, the running water in our streets and the mighty temples to our deities and the great roads spreading out in all directions. The peace we have brought to the lands which we have tamed, wild lands which have prospered and in which human beings can flourish where once only the roughest men could eke a living. But above all, the fair laws and noble customs which are our birthright and before which all citizens of our nation are equal. There is no other society as ours in all the world, not one in which the law governs the affairs of men and not whim and chance and power. Ours alone can lay claim to such a mantle, and ours alone has shown the world what is possible for citizens who wish to order their own affairs.
There are those who say that ours is a corrupt day, a late day. That our empire has grown too vast and groans under the weight of our burdens. They say that I govern with too light a touch, and that our virtue is in decline. They say our wealth has made us soft.
But we are still the light to which all the unfree lands of the world look. We stand as a testament that human beings are capable of civilization, that we are not mere beasts to squabble among ourselves, but men and women who can live in peace and trade across mighty distances. We demonstrate to all who are willing to see that men have only to lay down their arms and turn to commerce to leave their poverty behind.
But to those barbarians beyond our borders who would seek to destroy all that we hold dear, to sack our great cities for no reason other than to take our gold and drink our wine, we know how to take up arms when provoked. And the world knows that we will not lay them down until our enemies are destroyed. Our borders have not grown through our choice, but through necessity.
And so on this day, in honor of our fathers and the city which they established, a city which has grown into a mighty society, I bid you eat and drink. Toast our laws and our great and noble tradition of equality. For on this day, I am not your king, but your brother.”
And in keeping with custom, the king took off his crown and laid it at his feet. Then he knelt before his men and made a gesture as if to say, “Here I am, unarmed.” Not a man stepped forward to strike at him. Instead, they saluted and gave a cheer. The king stood back up and waved to one of his attendants, who came bearing a chalice of wine. He lifted the wine and drank and then held up the chalice. The men cheered again and all throughout the city cheers went up.
The soldiers in silver mail proceeded out through the streets, and children on the balconies threw garlands of flowers down upon them. An orchestra began playing in the great hall, softly at first but then gradually louder and louder. The court magicians again amplified the sound so that all could hear, and all throughout the city could be heard the crashing of cymbals and the pounding of drums and the sighing of flutes.
The parade lasted all day, and in the evening tables were laid out in the streets and food was laid upon them and the feasting began. Nobles mixed with commoners on that day and the king paid for the wine out of his personal wealth. The winter was over and the weather was warm, with a cool breeze which reminded them that it was yet March and not May. The feasting lasted all evening and at midnight the crowds gathered in the central square for the fireworks, which were a special secret of the magicians. Children yelled with delight as the fireworks exploded in shimmering waterfalls and pink and green and blue flowers.
In the morning, the day was clear and there was to be another day of feasting and games. And as the people turned out, early in the morning, despite their late festivities the previous night, the light of the sun came and shone upon them and bathed them and their city gleamed in the light and the light illuminated even the darkest corners of the city and smiled upon the fields which surrounded its marble walls and it seemed to the king that there was nothing so beautiful in all the world as to see his people smiling in the sun on a glorious springtime morning.