“But why?” the poet dared to ask.
“So I can torment them,” said the King.
And the King led him farther, past innumerable such mummy cases, vast shadows flickering by the light of the King’s hand, until they came to one case which was open and empty, its lid swung wide. The face of this one too had been recently altered, but in a far less crude fashion, to suggest the features of the King as he was now, in life at the height of his power.
The King stepped inside, crossed his arms in the position of a dead man and said, “Well, what do you think?”
“I don’t understand, Lord of Eternal Glory.”
“It’s for me. I can come here any time I want. For am I not lord of both the living and the dead?”
me.The poet couldn’t think of what to say. He feared that the King was mad, on top of all else.
Va
