Then came the fingers of blame.

In trying to make even the supply, the king had gathered the food of the land together at his modest castle.  For he was a good king, kind and fair.  And he took no more than the miller’s share.  And gave no more to his daughter than the barrel maker received, though it pained his heart to do so.  His portion was equivalent to that of the carpenter, and the same as the ration of the knight.

For the king loved his people, and seeing them in such pain weighed heavily on his heart.

In his peaceful kingdom he had little need for his knights to keep order, neighbors were considerate and his people had been kind to each other.

But the pain caused those people to change.  And the first act of the betrayal to the fellow man was the butcher wrenching a handful of grain from the baker on return from the castle.  The butcher undoubtably assumed he would  get away with such an act by virtue of his large stature.  But the king, upon hearing of the attempted thievery, made swift judgement.  He confined the butcher to his home and posted one of the knights at his door.

Yet he did not deprive him of his ration.  The king was fair and just.

But then the rancher, who lived on the outskirts of the town, was discovered sneaking into the blacksmiths house in the middle of the night.  He wouldn’t disclose his intentions, but the kingdom knew that he was in search of food.  The king posted one of his knights at the ranchers door, and still continued to provide his rations.

When the miller failed to provide adequate flour as a result of the dying crops, the baker then accused him of hoarding his product.

“How will I provide bread if you can’t produce enough flour for me to use?”

“Blame the farmer!” shouted the miller. “He hasn’t provided me with a decent amount of grain for weeks! How can I possibly fill your needs when I can’t get enough from him?”

The red-faced farmer was standing close by.

“Where do you propose I gather these grains?  You’ve seen the fields.  There isn’t anything out there!”

“Maybe the rancher will slaughter some of his cows, get us by for a few weeks?”

But the rancher, who had been confined to his home, couldn’t answer this request.

“Anything in the woods? No game found?”

“None. We’ve been out sunup to dusk everyday now.  We’ve tried traps, snares, bait, any manner of creative options and nothing will come near us.  All the creatures seem to be hiding. What could we do?”

“You must have caught something?” someone shouted from out in the gathering crowd.

“Nay, we’d have shared it if we did.”

“Maybe they caught something and kept it for themselves!” came another utterance from the crowd that went unclaimed.

“They’re the only ones who aren’t producing anything, it’s not fair!”

The king, meanwhile, had come to the commotion, having heard the noise from his castle.  He walked slowly up to the crowd and observed, with sunken eyes and an increasingly gaunt visage, his distraught people.

“Maybe he’s to blame?”

“Yeah! You’re responsible! You are supposed to be protecting and taking care of us! But look at the state we’re in!”

The king assured the crowd that he cared for them deeply.  And he told them that if there were anything in his power he could do to ease their suffering, he would have done so already.

“I have sent four of my knights with messages seeking succor to the ends of the earth.  I can only hope that they will succeed in finding relief for everyone.  For I know not why the crops have failed, nor why the forest grows thin.  I have no answer for the emaciated cattle, nor for scarcity of game.  But know that my people are dearest to me, and the one thing I can provide in abundance for you, is hope.”

The crowd shifted and murmurs rose from the crowd.

The king’s daughter emerged from behind his thinning figure.  She too looked thin and slightly haggard.  Her ivory skin drawn tightly upon her cheekbones and her normally shinning raven eyes were heavy with sadness and barely raised themselves from the ground.

“I am wholly with you in this.  I take no more nourishment than you, nor does my daughter. This you can plainly see. Join me in hope.  We will see better days!”

The embarrassed crowd slunk back to their homes and duties.  But the kings message did not take hold.

The first death occurred that very evening.