The Red Peacock

One day a courtier arrived at the palace carrying a large cage covered with a cloth. With a flourish, he pulled the cloth away. Inside was a peacock, and its feathers were a brilliant, glowing red.

The whole court gasped. Nobody had ever seen a red peacock before.

“Your Majesty,” said the courtier, bowing, “I found this marvel in the deep forests of the south. It is the rarest bird in the world. If you give me twenty-five thousand gold coins, I will go back and find more of them for the royal gardens.”

The king was enchanted. He ordered the money to be paid at once.

Tenali Raman looked at the bird closely. Its red was very bright, and very even, and on one of its feet there seemed to be a small smudge of something red that wasn’t feathers at all. Tenali said nothing. But that afternoon he went looking through the city, and in a small back street he found the workshop of a painter whose hands and fingernails were stained bright red.

A week later Tenali came to court with four covered cages.

“Your Majesty, the red peacock is not so rare after all. I have found four more. And I would only ask five thousand gold coins for each.”

He pulled the cloths away. Inside were four peacocks, just as brilliantly red as the first one.

The king was delighted. But the courtier who had brought the first peacock turned white.

“And,” Tenali went on, “I have brought the man who found them for me.” He stepped aside, and there stood the painter with his red-stained hands. “This artist painted my four peacocks. And, Your Majesty, he tells me that a few weeks ago someone paid him to paint a fifth.”

The painter pointed nervously at the courtier. The courtier dropped to his knees and confessed everything.

The king was angry with the courtier, who was ordered to return all twenty-five thousand gold coins, and a good deal more besides. Then he turned to Tenali.

“And you, Tenali? You asked me for twenty thousand coins for your four painted birds.”

“Oh, those are not for me, Your Majesty,” said Tenali. “They are the painter’s fee. He did very fine work. The colour was perfect, and it took him ages.”

The king laughed and paid the painter generously. And the peacocks were given a long, gentle bath, and strutted about the royal gardens in their own green and blue for the rest of their lives.