There was once upon a time a king who spent all his life amassing wealth. He taxed his own people terribly, but he also invaded the neighboring countries, ordering his generals to carry off all the treasure they could find. When his troops retreated, they left the fields and the cities barren, and all the gold and jewels and carpets and grain and other goods were brought to enrich their master. In time, his relentless quest for gold made him the richest king in the world.

But as must happen to all mortals, there came a moment when he began to feel the approach of death. Illness fell upon him, and no amount of money could buy him a cure. Doctor after doctor shook his head and declined the offered gold. He grew weaker and weaker, and soon could not rise, and he realised that his body would only leave his bed when it was carried to the grave.

Then he called his ministers together, and gave them this final instruction: When I am carried to the cemetery, he said, be sure that my hands are out, and open – not wrapped in the shroud, but visible. Let all the people of this kingdom know that the richest man in the world carried no coin to his grave.