The Prince and the Mountain
Long ago in Ireland there was a king who wanted for an heir. His wife had borne him many daughters, but no sons, and with each birth she became more frail. Finally she had a son, but he too was frail; a weak child, prone to sickness and unsuited to the burdens of leadership. The king sent word to all the great physicians and hedge healers of Ireland but none could help the child. Eventually was he was placed deep within the castle and isolated from people and the elements lest he become more ill.
In those days the legitimacy of leadership came from the land, and being king conferred certain privileges with the faeries. One of these fairies went by the name of Shen Nong, but he referred to himself as the Divine Farmer. He was one of the oldest faeries, and pre-dated agriculture by many thousands of years. His name was something of a joke as he did not farm in the conventional sense; rather he had such a perfect knowledge of plants and herbs and weather and growing seasons that those who followed his advice never needed to plant their own crops; the land provided for them. One day on his travels he passed through this kingdom and the king, showing him his due respect, put on a tremendous feast. Arrayed before them was an enormous spread of meats, cakes and ale. Shen Nong seemed to appreciate the gesture but he himself ate simply. Noticing the king’s son picking at his food Shen Nong spoke.
‘You have been gifted an heir’, he said to the king.
‘I have been given a son,’ say the king sadly. ‘But I fear he will never rule. He is weak, prone to coughs, chills, cramps and fever. The best physicians of the land can do nothing for him.’
Shen Nong was no healer, but he did know the land, and he took pity on the child. Calling him over he looked at the prince’s pale, clammy skin, noted his laboured breathing and dull eyes.
‘Do you know who I am?’ He asked the prince.
The prince nodded.
‘I will tell you a story. Listen well. There is a flower, named Shi Hu, which has a tremendous ability to heal. It grows on the tops of mountains which carry snow all year round. It hides in inaccessible places, and requires great dedication to find.’
Hearing this the king became excited and offered Shen Nong wealth, power, and even the choice of his daughters as wife if he could provide this flower to them. Shen Nong shook his head.
‘This flower is not to be traded for.’
The next day Shen Nong left, and as soon as his shadow passed from the town gate the king sent riders out in every direction, looking for a flower that grew only on the top of ever-snow-capped mountains. One year later, the riders all returned with nothing to tell for their time searching.
All the while the prince grew more and more ill. To protect him his father limited his contact with the world even further. He was given beautiful books, the finest, richest food, the most luxurious clothes, but had no freedom.
The prince developed an interest in healing, and taught himself Greek and Arabic and Sanskrit in order to read the great books on the subject. However he could find nothing to help himself. In those days the medicine of Ireland was not written down but was an oral tradition. The prince grew to understand that if he wished to learn this knowledge, this fios, he would need to speak with healers in person.
He waited for a night with no moon and made his escape. He took plenty of fine food and warm clothing but soon had to trade it away to fund his journey. From speaking to healers he quickly discovered that this flower, Shi Hu, was all too easy to locate. It grew in hedges, window boxes, sparse forests. It was a prized for its beauty but everyone he met assured him it had no medicinal value. But the prince trusted in Shen Nong and continued his search.
He travelled the land from North to South and from West to East. Whenever he reached a new place he would pick the tallest, harshest mountain there and climb it. Over time he learned how to read the weather, knowing when were good days to climb and when to seek shelter. He learned to read the land, and tell the difference between mountains that carried snow only for a few months or those which carried it year-round. Climbing so high meant he could carry little, so he learned to forage, to survive only on that which the land provided him. And he learned to stay warm by brewing a tea of certain roots which sustained him in the harsh cold of the mountains.
After many years of these travels the prince reached the peak of a particularly difficult mountain. With a storm coming in he sought shelter under an outcropping of stone and wouldn’t you know it, there, sitting in front of a blazing campfire, was none other than Shen Nong. All around him were beautiful purple flowers, their colour bursting up through the snow. The prince stared at them in wonder and knew they were the Shi Hu he had been looking for. Shen Nong asked him a question.
‘What do you know of these flowers?’
The prince answered easily. Through his travels he had learned much. He spoke of the kind of climate, soil and sunlight the flowers needed, and how he learned to read these in the sky, and how this reading of the land led him here. But there was one thing he did not know.
‘But they look no different to the flowers I see throughout the hedgerows of the land! What is special about these Shi Hu?’
Shen Nong smiled. ‘Certainly, on first glance they are the same. But these Shi Hu are formed by their environment. The high altitude teaches them to be strong, just as your years of climbing mountains have strengthened your muscles and sinews. The sparse soil teaches them to absorb only the best nourishment from the earth, just as your foraging gives your body what it needs and nothing else. And the cold teaches the Shi Hu to generate its own heat from within, just as your root teas have nourished the fire inside you. The flowers of the lowlands are soft from the gentle climate and fat from the richness of their soil, just as you were as a child: sedentary, stuffed on rich food, wrapped in warm furs. Now look at you.’
And indeed the prince looked at himself and knew he was strong. The sickly child he had been was transformed, and in that moment he realised there was no need to take the flower, as it had already given him its healing.
When the storm passed the prince came down from the mountain and returned home. As he walked through the gates of the town he came upon a scene of great mourning. His father had passed, and so the prince stepped immediately into the mantle of leadership. He ruled wisely and fairly. He was beloved by his people for always seeming to see problems before they happened. When other neighbouring kingdoms suffered drought or blight the larders of his kingdom were full, and he became known for his generosity in sharing both food and knowledge. Kingdoms far and wide sent healers to study here, and throughout the known world it was a time of great peace and plenty, and all people knew good health.
The king passed away at ninety nine years old, a good age and a very lucky number. But when his son took over the kingdom began to decline. He lacked his father’s discernment and there was unrest. Some had too much, some had too little and discontent grew. On his deathbed his father had shared the location of Shen Nong’s mountain with his son, and now the son made his own pilgrimage.
But when he got there he found the land changed. Sun beat down upon tilled crops, mills and waterwheels. Industry had taken over the mountain, and neither Shen Nong nor the Shi Hu were anywhere to be seen.
