The storm raged. The rain fell like rocks being hurled from the sky and were carried off horizontally by the fierce howling winds. The effect was similar to an invading army attacking by hurling lumps of granite at your troops. The King of the Moor knew he was foolish to be out trying to protect the kingdom on such a night but he had to try. His subjects would never forgive him if he failed to protect the farms along his borders from marauding raiders and it was just the kind of weather when they would be likely to strike to take advantage of the fact that no sensible person would be out and about maintaining or rebuilding the fences and walls along the boundary.

It was futile. For every fence he mended, another blew down and another broke free from its fastenings. There was nothing he could do but sit and watch over border to repel anyone trying to take advantage of the situation.

The morning came and the extent of the damage could now be seen. It was disastrous. The King immediately sent word to the ruler of the neighbouring country appealing for help to maintain their joint borders. After all, both countries stood to lose because the border had been breached. Word came back that the ruler of his neighbouring country would not be making any contribution whatsoever to the work that needed to be done. He insisted that he’s agreed a treaty with the King of the Moor’s father that the Kingdom would take responsibility for the integrity of the border.

A search of the laws of the land was conducted and no mention of the treaty could be found anywhere. The ruler of the other country claimed it had been a verbal agreement sealed with a dram of whisky and it would be dishonourable for the King of the Moor to break the agreement. The King of the Moor was stuck because he couldn’t prove what his gut instinct told him, that his father would not have struck any such agreement. Why would he? He had a lot to lose and nothing to gain from such a treaty. His father was missing, presumed lost at sea.

What could the King do? He couldn’t let down his people who depended on the border to keep their animals safe from attack and to prevent interlopers from making off with their farm equipment. Random attacks started to happen from over the border. The King had to act. He decided that the only course of action open to him was to seal the border himself at his own cost. He repaired what he could and rebuilt what he could not repair and the attacks stopped. His people were relieved they no longer needed to be out patrolling their land to protect against invasion.

He had survived shipwreck and it had taken him more than a year to find his way home, penniless and hungry. There was much joy and laughter as the Kingdom rejoiced at the return of their beloved patriarch. The young King offered his crown back to his father. His father was delighted with the way his son had run the country in his absence but was puzzled at the high costs associated with maintaining the border. It turned out that no such agreement had been made, either in writing or verbally and that the ruler of the neighbouring country was being dishonest in order to save money for himself. The King was incandescent. He severed all ties with his neighbour and closed his border to trade and migration.

The moral of this story is it’s a good idea not to tell lies. Be sure, they will find you out. Any likeness to any persons living or dead are purely coincidental.