Rachel didn’t weep or wail. Instead, she slipped a sleeping potion into the king’s cup. As soon as he was sleeping soundly that evening, Rachel wrapped him in a blanket, hoisted him up onto her back, and carried him out into the night. The guards, remembering what the king had said and thinking that Rachel was carrying a golden treasure, never stopped her.
The king woke to the sound of birds and found himself lying under a tree in the middle of a grassy field. Rachel was beside him. “What … why …?” the king stammered. “What am I doing here?”
Rachel smiled gently. “I was following your order,” she said. “You told me I could take my dearest possession with me. And that, my love, is you.”
The king looked into Rachel’s warm eyes. And as he looked, he forgot all about his pride, this time forever. “Will you forgive me?” he asked.
“Of course. And will you listen to me before you make your judgments?”
“Of course. Come, my dearest possession,” said the king. “Let us go home.”