Robert of Sicily went to the services
with the rest, and sat in the humblest
place with the servants. Over and over
again he heard the sweet voices of the
choirs chant the Latin words he had heard
long ago: "He hath put down the mighty
from their seat, and hath exalted them of
low degree." And at last, as he listened,
his heart was softened. He, too, felt the
strange blessed presence of a heavenly
power. He thought of God, and of his
own wickedness; he remembered how
happy he had been, and how little good
he had done; he realized, that his power
had not been from himself, at all. On
Easter night, as he crept to his bed of straw,
he wept, not because he was so wretched,
but because he had not been a better king
when power was his.
At last all the festivities were over, and
the King of Sicily went home to his own
land again, with his people. Robert the
jester came home too.
On the day of their home-coming, there
was a special service in the royal church,
and even after the service was over for
the people, the monks held prayers of
thanksgiving and praise. The sound of
their singing came softly in at the palace
windows. In the great banquet room, the
king sat, wearing his royal robes and his
crown, while many subjects came to greet
him. At last, he sent them all away, saying
he wanted to be alone; but he commanded
the jester to stay.
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