Cultural Mythology: Myth, culture, and consciousness

The Old Thief and the Magic Plum Seed, part 2 of 2

The king was furious when he opened the little wooden box and found only a dry plum pit rattling around inside. “Why, this is just an ordinary plum pit” he exclaimed, “Is this some kind of a joke? Who do you think you are, to waste my time with this foolishness!” The king angrily ordered the jailer to take the old thief back to his gloomy cell.

“Wait,” said the old thief. “It’s true that this is a plum pit, but it is not just an ordinary plum pit. When this plum pit is planted a sapling will spring up in just a few days and quickly grow into a tree, and in just a few days more flowers and then fruit will appear and these will be plums of gold. Whoever plants this tree will reap a golden reward and be wealthy all of his days. Surely this is a gift fit for a king.”

The king thought about this for a moment. “If what you say is true," he said to the old thief, “and this seed is magical and produces plums of gold, then why haven’t you planted the pit yourself?” “Well,” said the old thief, “the tree will only sprout if the one who plants it has a clear conscience and has never stolen or cheated another. Clearly I do not qualify but surely you do, my king.”

The king thought about the deals that were made in the back rooms of the castle. “I’ve never had a green thumb,” he said, and turning to the queen handed the pit to her. “You plant this my dear.” The queen thought about her secret liaisons and private plots and she turned to the prime minister who stood beside her and handed the pit to him. “You deserve this reward far more than I,” she told him.  The Prime Minister took the pit and promptly handed it to the Treasurer. “I do believe that you are better suited for this task,” he said.

The Treasurer gave a slight smile (or perhaps it was a grimace) and handed the plum pit to the Minister of War, who handed it to the Chief Jailer, who handed it to the Minister of Justice, and so it went until the plum pit passed through every hand and ended up again, with the old thief. “Apparently there is no one here qualified to plant this plum tree,” he said, “although I am the only one in jail.”

The room was very quiet. At last the king said, “You have given us a gift today, a gift for the entire realm.” He called the ministers together and they all pitched in to pay the old thief’s fine.

The old thief carefully placed the plum pit back into the old wooden box, shut the lid, and placed it in the folds of his robe.  “Can that pit really produce golden fruit?” the king asked him. The old thief smiled and walked away a free man.

 

 

The Old Thief and the Magic Plum Seed, part 1 of 2

This story is for those of you in the middle of the river, keeping your eyes open and head above the water.

Once, in a time much like this time, there was an old thief. He had stolen many things over the course of his life and he did it with such subtlety, such art, that he had never been caught. His neighbors had their suspicions but no one could be sure, he was so good at secrecy and the tricks of the trade.

One beautiful sunny day, the old thief went to the marketplace and stole some fresh green herbs. Who can say what attracted him to them, whether it was their color or scent, or some need he had to flavor a dish or make a medicine. He was not usually so bold in the daylight. Maybe he had a moment of weakness. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was a moment of fate. But this time he was caught red-handed, slipping the herbs into the folds of his robe. He was taken before the judge, who had often wondered if he would ever see the old thief in his courtroom, and a heavy fine was levied against him.

The fine was awfully large for such a small infraction. The herbs were not worth that much. No one imagined that the old thief could pay it and in fact, he could not. So the authorities happily converted his sentence to a long term in prison. As his jailers led him through the massive gates and down the stone steps into the gloom, the old thief looked everything over very carefully, searching for any gap, any weakness. Alas, the place was tight as a drum and presented no hope of escape.

Days passed. The old thief was alone in his cell in the darkness, his solitude interrupted only by the arrival, twice a day, of his meals. Who knows what he thought about or how he felt in that oppressive quiet?

One day, when the jailer came down the stone steps with his morning meal, the old thief roused himself. “I must talk to the king” he said, “without delay.” “What does an old thief like you have to do with the king?” the jailer replied,“Forget it,” and he put down the food and turned to walk away. “I must see the king,” said the old thief, “because I have a gift for him. Something of extraordinary value, fit only for a king.” “You must be joking,” said the jailer and he went on his way. But then he started to think. Who knows what this old thief might have acquired over the years of skillful theft? And the king might give a good reward to someone who helped get this valuable gift into his royal hands.

So the following morning the jailer told the old thief that his request would be granted, and the next morning he came down to escort the old thief to the king. The old thief picked up an small wooden box and went with the jailer to the royal chambers. There sat the king on his fine throne with the queen at his side, surrounded by ministers and members of his cabinet and nobles and other fine people of the realm.

The king was a very busy man with important affairs needing his attention. He was used to receiving fine gifts and wondered what a lowly thief could possible have to offer. So he impatiently waved his hand at the old thief and said, “Come here man, come here now and let’s see what you’ve got.” The old thief did as he was bid and bowing low he said “For you my majesty,” and handed the king the wooden box. The king took the box with a slight frown and opened it. Inside was a dry plum pit. That was all.

Now how will great value be found in this plum pit? Is the thief joking? He can hardly afford to aggravate the king. I've based my telling of this old story on versions from Korea and Michael Meade's book Fate And Destiny.  Stay tuned for the rest of the story.