[ WP ] The King was sitting on the street ; thanking for the coins in his hands .

I have lived my life always with the belief that one should never be ashamed of what he is. So I am a thief, and I am not ashamed. But these days, who is n't a thief? The lords steal from their serfs, the kings steals land for his buildings, children steal toys, men steal the hearts of women, and even the minstrels steal the songs of one another. The only difference is - I'm honest about it. 
 
 Lately my gold has been a little tight. I mean, after two revolutions and three new kings in just over a decade, the kingdom was quite a mess. It made for pretty easy pickings for me an my partner. But, my partner got busted during a carriage robbery, and left me to fend for myself until he gets out of the gibbet or wherever he's gone to. So I mostly do the simple stuff - pick pockets in crowed markets, lift a loaf of bread from the bakery - just enough for me to get by. 
 
 I remember one day the market was particularly slow. Not nearly enough bustle to get away with some easy lifts. But my stomach was growling like a damn lion so I figured an apple or two from the fruit stand could n't hurt. I got the first one easily. It slipped into my pocket just as I had done a dozen times before. As i reached for the second one, a giant hand grabbed my wrist and yanked it back. 
 `` Thief!'' he shouted, practically pulling me off my feet, away from the market. The brute was at least a head taller then me, and at four stone heavier. He was a hairy, ugly, man who smelled of onions and ale. I knew I could n't fight back, so I submitted, pleaded with him for mercy, offered to do anything in return, but he was n't so interested. 
 `` Either you pay up for the apples you was about ta take, or I'll send you to to the city guard right now.'' He smiled at me through crooked teeth. He and I both knew I did n't have the coin. And the fruit would run me at least five or six crowns. 
 As I started sputtering a mediocre response, I quiet voice interrupted us. `` Excuse me, but what does this man owe you?'' the voice said. I turned and looked at the man who had spoken - old, dirty, with long white hair and in a roughspun cloak.'A beggar?' I thought.'What could a beggar have to say?' 
 
 The merchant looked at the old man with suspicion. `` Five crowns for the apple, two crowns for the trouble.'' The old man rumbled around in his pocket and handed the merchant the coins. They clinked against eachother as the merchant shuffled them in his free hand. Satisfied, the merchant smiled and let me go with a shove. I rubbed my wrist and went to thank the old man who had just freed me. But when I came to face him, he had already walked back to the corner on which he sat, begging for any coin he could get. 
 
 I walked over to the corner and sat down next to him. `` You know, old man. You've perhaps just saved my life.'' I said quietly. 
 He waved the statement away. `` It was nothing,'' he said, wrapping himself tighter with his dirty cloak. `` Just be gone with you.'' There was something about him - his air, the way he spoke, that just seemed so proper. But I dismissed it, thanked the beggar one more time, and left. 
 
 At night, I could n't sleep. I just kept thinking of the old beggar, and the kindness he had done to me. 
 
 The next day, I lifted ten crowns and a golden castle off a drunken highborn lad as he slept in the alley. I went back to the beggar began to speak with him. 
 `` Here are the seven crowns that you paid on my behalf yesterday,'' I said, handing him the coins. `` And here,'' I whispered, `` is a golden castle. Bet you have n't seen one of these in a while. Worth thirty crowns. I'll give it to you - if you tell me who you are, and why you helped me.'' 
 
 The old beggar looked at me with a cautious air of skepticism. He scooped up the coins I had given him, and placed them out in front of me. `` I do not want your coins, boy. If you have to steal just to eat, you need them much more than I.'' He chuckled dryly. `` And I have had just about enough of crowns and castles in my lifetime.'' 
 
 This man, this dirty old beggar, who had just refused my gold, had won my interest more than anyone I'd ever met. `` Have you?'' I asked, sitting next to him. `` So you were a banker, or you worked in the royal treasury? Or perhaps you were just a very wealthy man?'' 
 
 `` Of those things I was none.'' Said the beggar. 
 
 `` Then what were you? Please, tell me.'' I pleaded. 
 
 `` You know, no one has actually ever asked me that question. Three years I've been on these streets. i get nothing but cold stares and pity money. Do you truly want to know who I was?'' the beggar inquired. 
 
 I held my breath. `` Truly.'' 
 
 `` Well then,'' he said. `` Are you familiar with the Revolt of the Rossers?'' 
 
 `` Yes; but we call it The Rosser Rebellion.'' I say. 
 
 The beggar chuckled, `` Will always preferred to call losing insurrections rebellions.'' 
 
 `` Will? Who's Will?'' 
 
 `` Oh, uh, William. William Bulgwan I. Your king.'' He hissed the word king with such disdain that it drew me aback. 
 
 `` You knew the king?'' I said, in disbelief. 
 
 `` Ha!'' he said, rubbing his nose. `` I was the king.'' I stared at him in silence. `` You are talking to Percival Bernard Rosser I, former king of this great land. I was the lone member of my family to survive the Revolt of the Rossers that was started by my father, carried on by my older brother, and eventually fell on me to lead us to victory over the tyrannical King Peter III. And I did. I ruled the kingdom for the better part of five years.'' 
 
 `` Y-You think you're King Rosser?'' I stopped. `` I'd laugh in your face if I did n't pity you, old man. King Rosser died after King William stabbed him in the back and stole his crown. How dare you pretend to be him.'' I said with disgust. 
 
 `` No, I promise you, it's all true. Look.'' He slowly pulled down his roughspun cloak and showed me his back. There were several scars, deep, red vertical lines on either side of his spine. They were definitely stab wounds. He then dug around in a satchel that he kept on his side. He pulled out a ring and handed it to me. It was an ornate ring with the Rosser Falcon on the side, and a giant ruby on the top. Smaller rubies encrusted the rest of the ring. `` The only thing I've managed to keep from being stolen all these years,'' he chuckled. `` That and the scars - but why would anybody want to steal those?'' 
 
 I stared at the old man in disbelief. 
 
 *** 
 
 We talked for many hours afterward. He told me the complete story of the Rosser Rebellion, of his family, his friends, and his life before he was usurped. He told me that King William had let him live as an act of mercy, as long as he held no land or real wealth. I was n't sure if I believed the old man, but it was truly an amazing story. 
 
 I thanked the old man for the story, and for saving me, and I shook his hand. I do n't know why, but something took over me, and I embraced him in a hug. As I left him, I think I saw a tear in his eye. 
 
 When I got back to my house, I emptied my pockets of the day's treasures. A few coins, a necklace, a coinpurse, and most importantly, 
 a ring with an eagle on the side, and a ruby on the top. 
 
 I bet this will fetch for quite a high price. Especially with the story behind it. 
 
 I have lived my life always with the belief that one should never be ashamed of what he is. So I am a thief, and I am not ashamed.
