The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant

In the fertile lands along the great river, where the sun blessed the earth with abundance, there lived a humble peasant named Khun-Anup. His small plot of land yielded enough barley and flax to feed his family, though they lived simply, finding joy in honest work and each other’s company.

One fateful morning, as the golden dawn painted the sky, Khun-Anup loaded his donkey with the finest produce from his harvest. “Today, my faithful friend,” he said to his donkey, patting its neck gently, “we journey to the great market to sell our goods. With Allah’s blessing, we shall return with enough grain to last through the dry season.”

The path to the market led through the estate of Djehuti-nakht, a wealthy landowner known throughout the region. As Khun-Anup guided his donkey along the narrow road that bordered the estate, he noticed a figure approaching—Nemty-nakht, the chief steward of the estate, whose reputation for greed preceded him like a shadow.

Nemty-nakht’s eyes gleamed as he spotted the peasant’s laden donkey. “Such fine goods should not travel this path,” he called out, his voice dripping with false authority. “This road belongs to my master’s estate.”

“Kind sir,” Khun-Anup replied respectfully, bowing his head, “I have traveled this public road for many seasons. My father and his father before him used this very path to reach the market. Surely there is no harm in my peaceful passage?”

But Nemty-nakht had already conceived a wicked plan. He quickly spread his finest linen cloth across the narrow path, blocking the way completely. “You cannot pass here,” he declared smugly. “Choose another route—through the water on one side or through my master’s barley field on the other.”

Khun-Anup studied the impossible choice before him. The water would ruin his goods, and trampling through the barley field would make him a trespasser. “Noble steward,” he pleaded, “please move your cloth so that I may pass peacefully. I am but a poor man trying to feed his family through honest trade.”

“The cloth stays where it is,” Nemty-nakht sneered. “Make your choice quickly, peasant.”

With no other option, Khun-Anup carefully guided his donkey toward the edge of the barley field, taking the utmost care to avoid damaging even a single stalk. But as fate would have it, a few grains of barley clung to the donkey’s mouth as they passed.

“Thief!” Nemty-nakht shouted triumphantly. “Your donkey has stolen my master’s barley! I claim both the beast and all your goods as compensation!”

Before Khun-Anup could protest, the steward’s servants seized his donkey and all his produce. “Please, I beg you,” Khun-Anup cried, falling to his knees. “That donkey and those goods represent my family’s entire livelihood. Without them, my children will starve!”

Nemty-nakht laughed coldly. “A thief deserves nothing. Be grateful I don’t have you beaten as well.”

For three days, Khun-Anup remained at the estate’s gates, pleading for justice. Finally, he gained an audience with Djehuti-nakht himself, the master of the estate.

“My lord,” Khun-Anup began, his voice steady despite his desperation, “I come before you not as a beggar, but as one who seeks only what is rightfully his. Your steward has taken my possessions through deceit and false accusation.”

Djehuti-nakht listened with growing interest as the peasant continued: “You are like a father to the fatherless, a husband to the widow, a brother to the divorced woman, and a shelter to the motherless. Be to me what a father is to his son. Justice is the breath of life for those who speak truth. When you give justice, it is like water to the thirsty and bread to the hungry.”

The eloquence of the peasant’s words surprised Djehuti-nakht. Never had he heard such beautiful speech from a common farmer. “Your words are like honey,” he admitted, “but I cannot act hastily in such matters. Return tomorrow, and I shall consider your case further.”

But Djehuti-nakht was curious about this eloquent peasant and secretly sent word to the king about Khun-Anup’s remarkable gift for speech. The king, intrigued, commanded that the peasant be kept waiting so that he might continue to demonstrate his eloquence.

Day after day, Khun-Anup returned to plead his case, each time crafting more beautiful and profound speeches about justice, truth, and righteousness. “Justice is eternal,” he declared on one visit. “It descends into the grave with the one who does it. When he is buried and joined with the earth, his name does not perish from the land because he is remembered for his goodness.”

On another day, he spoke of the corruption that plagued the land: “Those who should be lights in the darkness have become the darkness itself. They who should give life have become death. They rob the poor and favor the wealthy, turning justice upside down like a man standing on his head.”

His words grew bolder with each visit: “You who are entrusted with justice have become like a ferryman who crosses only those who can pay, leaving the poor stranded on the shore of their misfortune. But know this—every deed, just or unjust, shall be weighed in the final balance.”

For nine times, Khun-Anup appeared before Djehuti-nakht, and nine times he delivered speeches that moved all who heard them to tears. His words traveled beyond the estate, reaching the ears of nobles and common folk alike, who came to witness the peasant whose tongue was touched by divine wisdom.

Finally, the king himself arrived in disguise to hear the eloquent peasant. Hidden among the crowd, he listened as Khun-Anup delivered his final plea:

“O you who have been given authority over others, remember that power is a trust, not a privilege. The strong are made strong to protect the weak, not to prey upon them. When you pervert justice, you tear the very fabric that holds society together. But when you uphold truth and righteousness, you become like a gardener who tends the tree of civilization, ensuring it bears good fruit for generations to come.”

The king was so moved by these words that he immediately revealed himself. “Rise, O eloquent one,” he commanded. “Your words have shown us the true meaning of justice. Not only shall your goods be restored, but Nemty-nakht shall be stripped of his position and his own wealth given to you as compensation for your suffering.”

Khun-Anup fell prostrate before the king, tears of joy streaming down his weathered face. “Your Majesty’s justice is like the sun that drives away the darkness and the rain that brings life to the barren earth.”

The king smiled and continued: “Moreover, I appoint you as my special advisor on matters of justice. Your eloquence shall serve not just your own cause, but the cause of all who seek fairness in our land.”

As the sun set on that day of vindication, Khun-Anup was reunited with his donkey and received wealth beyond his wildest dreams. But more importantly, his words had restored the balance of justice and reminded all who heard them that truth, when spoken with courage and eloquence, has the power to move mountains and topple the mighty from their thrones.

From that day forward, the tale of the eloquent peasant was told throughout the land, inspiring the oppressed to speak truth to power and reminding those in authority that their greatest duty is to serve justice, not their own interests.

And so Khun-Anup returned to his village not merely as a wealthy man, but as a living testament to the power of eloquent truth and the ultimate triumph of justice over corruption.