Join us at the campfire for tales from around the world, told by storytellers of all backgrounds and creeds. From the heros and heroines of old, let us relearn and rediscover the wisdom of our ancestors. Shhh..the story begins..

Only one man in the long history of folklore magic has been able to associate with demons and have no fear of the repercussions. That man was the mighty King Solomon whose empire...or so it was said...extended far beyond the lands of the Hebrews and encompassed even the spirit world itself. As a master magician, he possessed the secrets to knowledge unknown by others, and the ancient sages of Arabia preserved anecdotes of his power that never found their way into the more conventional chronicles. One of these concerned a rather extraordinary trial that was conducted within the walls of Solomon's palace at Jerusalem. The plaintiff in question was a poor widow woman...the charge was theft...and the defendants accused of the crime were the Four Winds.

It pleased King Solomon to hold a daily audience in his palace. One bright Spring afternoon, the great hall was overflowing with petitioners who sought a hearing with the King: farmers who were quarrelling over the boundaries between their olive groves; heirs who were disputing the terms of a will; and scholars who were anxious to consult with the King on some point of law. The palace servants opened the high windows in the hope that the light breezes would blow in from outside and dilute the choking cloud of stale perfume, sweat, and the overpowering scent of exhaled onions which permeated the air.

The crowd was impatient, pushing and jostling their way ever closer to Solomon's throne where the great King sat in splendor, surrounded by the high priests of his temple...an awe-inspiring sight in their magnificent horned headdresses. As the King leaned forward to better catch the nervous stammer of an overwhelmed supplicant, there was a commotion at the rear of the great hall which made it impossible for Solomon to hear the mumbled words of the man standing before him, and a small figure slipped through the swarm of people.

Solomon's face darkened when he realized that the interloper was none other than his twelve-year-old son, whom the storytellers of this folktale named Absalom. The young Prince announced that he had discovered a terrible crime which had to be avenged immediately. The King commanded Absalom to hold his tongue until the man standing before him had finished what he had to say. The boy fumed and fidgeted, shedding outraged tears of anger, but was obliged to obey his father's order. Finally, at Solomon's nod, Absalom approached the throne and relayed his story.

He had spent the morning in the study-house, learning that portion of the law which dealt with justice for the needy. On his way home, he had heard the noise of somebody weeping and wailing, and had followed the sound to the mouth of a muddy alleyway. There, he had found a woman dressed in ragged mourning clothes crouched down on the ground sobbing piteously over an empty bowl. Her skirt, sandaled feet and the mud into which she had slumped were all spattered with flour. Absalom had lifted up the widow woman and then hurried with her to his father's palace, ignoring all her protestations and promising that she would most certainly find justice in his father's court. Even now, Absalom informed Solomon, she was waiting at the door of the great hall. The King beckoned to the woman and then turned to his son. If the boy was so keen on dispensing justice, then it was high time he learned how it was done.

Rising from his throne, Solomon draped his robe of state around Absalom's shoulders, balanced the crown of Israel upon the boy's head, and placed the royal scepter in his hand. The only token of power that Solomon withheld was the ring which gave him authority over the spirit world. Absalom solemnly regarded the widow standing in front of him and directed the woman to give her testimony.

Through her tears, she told how she had spent her very last copper shekel on flour to bake a small loaf of bread. As she carried her purchase home however, a great wind whistled out of heaven and scattered the flour. What, asked the widow ruefully, did the young highness propose to do about that? Absalom looked at his father in a silent plea for help, but the King did not appear to be paying attention. Instead, he stood to one side and thoughtfully toyed with the ring on his finger before raising it to his lips and kissing the stone.

Before Solomon's hand had even fallen back to his side, four Winged Spirits flew in through the open window. The golden-haired West Wind was the first to arrive, with droplets of salty sea-spray still clinging to his plumage. Next, came his olive-skinned brother from the East, whose feathers were coated with a dusting of the amber desert sands. He was soon followed by the white-bearded North Wind, whose ice-tipped quills dripped melting snow upon the marble floor. The last to arrive was the dark-eyed South Wind, whose every wingbeat released a heady aroma of jasmine and oranges. Absalom was perched on the royal throne adorned in all the trappings of kingship, but it was to Solomon, master of the ring, that the Winds bowed down.

"Tell us the truth!" shrilled the young Prince in a voice which strove to imitate that of his father's Generals on the parade ground. "Which one of you stole this woman's flour?"

In turn, each of the Spirits of the Four Winds looked to Solomon before they gave an answer. The Winds of the West, East and North offered their deepest condolences to the widow and their alibis to the King. The West Wind had been in the Copper Mountains, watching the laborers mine ore to make the roofplates for Solomon's new temple. The East Wind, after emerging from the desert, had loitered on the forested slopes of Lebanon where woodsmen were cutting down thousand-year-old cedars to form the temple's columns. The North Wind said that he had only recently returned from Lydia where quarrymen were cutting the marble for the floor of the new temple. None of them had been in the marketplace at Jerusalem...none of them had even seen the widow...and most assuredly none of them had touched the flour.

Then, the South Wind spoke, admitting that he was the guilty party. It had been his gusts that had blown the widow's flour from the bowl, but there were mitigating circumstances. He humbly requested that he be allowed to tell them to the court. Absalom shook his head and launched into a vehement attack, but Solomon motioned for the South Wind to speak.

That very morning, said the Winged Spirit of the South, he had floated high above the Arabian Sea billowing the sails of an Egyptian galley. It was carrying three hundred peasants who were fleeing from famine. The vessel in which they had placed their hope of a better life, however, was an ancient craft...a moldering hulk of a ship and totally unseaworthy. In the wake of a sudden swell, it foundered and began to sink. Waves swept dangerously across the rotting decks and the high-pitched wails of the badly frightened children could be heard for miles. The South Wind had no choice but to take pity upon them.

Swooping low over the choppy surface of the sea, he gathered all his strength and blew the listing ship to shore. As it ran aground, it broke apart beyond all repair, but none of the souls aboard the disintegrating vessel had perished...all were safe. So vigorously, however, did the South Wind perform this act of mercy that the strength of his gust was felt as far away as Jerusalem. The blast that had delivered three hundred lives from almost certain death was the self-same blast that had stolen the widow woman's flour.

The Prince, his face crimson, slipped silently from the throne and handed the tokens of power back to his father. Solomon ordered his treasurer to compensate the widow for her loss with one hundred golden shekels, and then he turned to the South Wind, extending the hand that wore the ring of power. The Spirit knelt in order to receive the King's blessing which, in return for the deed the South Wind had done that day, Solomon was more than happy to bestow.

Then, as quickly as they had arrived, the Four Winds departed through the high windows of the palace and vanished into the sky. But for many days afterward, there remained a heady aroma of jasmine and oranges in the air throughout the palace...the fragrance of Southern blooms and spices which lingered in the great hall and, in particular, around the throne of King Solomon the Wise.