“I, a poor priest, am also a doctor,” she replied.  “I read the edict posted on the palace gates.  The King is inquiring for a doctor who can heal him.  I am a doctor of an old cultured family, and propose to restore him to health.”

“If you are of a cultured family, why did you become a priest?” they asked.  “Would it not have been better to gain your living honestly in practising your art than to shave your head and go loafing about the world?  Besides, all the highest physicians have tried in vain to cure the King; do you imagine that you will be more skilful than all the aged practitioners?”

“Set your minds at ease,” she replied.  “I have received from my ancestors the most efficacious remedies, and I guarantee that I shall restore the King to health,” The palace guard then consented to transmit her petition to the Queen, who informed the King, and in the end the pretended priest was admitted.  Having reached the royal bed-chamber, he sat still awhile in order to calm himself before feeling the pulse, and to have complete control of all his faculties while examining the King.  When he felt quite sure of himself, he approached the King’s bed, took the King’s hand, felt his pulse, carefully diagnosed the nature of the illness, and assured himself that it was easily curable.

Strange Medicine

One serious difficulty, however, presented itself, and that was that the right medicine was almost impossible to procure.  The King showed his displeasure by saying:  “For every illness there is a medical prescription, and for every prescription a specific medicine; how can you say that the diagnosis is easy, but that there is no remedy?”

“Your Majesty,” replied the priest, “the remedy for your illness is not to be found in any pharmacy, and no one would agree to sell it.”

The King became angry, believed that he was being imposed upon, and ordered those about him to drive away the priest, who left smiling.

The following night the King saw in a dream an old man who said to him:  “This priest alone can cure your illness, and if you ask him he himself will give you the right remedy.”

The King awoke as soon as these words had been uttered, and begged the Queen to recall the priest.  When the latter had returned, the King related his dream, and begged the priest to procure for him the remedy required.  “What, after all, is this remedy that I must have in order to be cured?” he asked.

“There must be the hand and eye of a living person, from which to compound the ointment which alone can save you,” answered the priest.

The King called out in indignation:  “This priest is fooling me!  Who would ever give his hand or his eye?  Even if anyone would, I could never have the heart to make use of them.”

“Nevertheless,” said the priest, “there is no other effective remedy.”

“Then where can I procure this remedy?” asked the King.