‘Go at once and bring the Court Historians,’ he cried; ‘the recital of our many wonderful virtues and deeds will charm our last remaining hours.’ The Historians came and read aloud the glorious history of his reign, but, after a little while, the King waved them aside. ‘You bore us,’ he said. ‘Let us have music,’ the King commanded, and the most skilled musicians in the kingdom came and played before him. But the music was so passionately sorrowful, joyous, heart-stirring, that the King wept. ‘Go away,’ he cried, ‘we would make Death easy, but your music is the enemy of Death!’
Then the Monarch ordered all the members of the Royal Family to come to his bedside, that he might spend his last hours in loving discourse with his kindred. But when they came, they wept so bitterly, that the King’s heart was turned to water within him, and he commanded them to depart.
The King was fretful.
‘How many different religions are there in the kingdom?’ he enquired of the chamberlain.
‘Sire, there are six great religions, and one hundred and seventy-two different sects,’ replied that worthy.
The King mused for a moment, then said: ‘Bring the Chief Priests of the six great religions!’
The Chief Priests came, and assembled near the royal bed, looking very wise.
The King raised himself wearily from his pillow, and said in a faint voice: ‘We have commanded your presence here that you may explain the means we must adopt to secure the happiness of our immortal soul in the next world. You may begin.’ And he sank back again into his pillows.
Then the six Chief Priests all began to talk at once, explaining their different systems, and they quarrelled and argued one with another, until nothing could be heard in the Palace but the sound of their voices. Hour after hour went by and still they wrangled, but the King had long since passed away, a happy smile upon his face.