Once there was a young knight whose life was full of beautiful things. In his vast and delightful castle, every room and corridor was filled with rich carpets, rare books, elegant furnishings and exquisite objects of every sort. From the walls hung lush tapestries and rich paintings.

And in the flicker of candle-light, delicate porcelain, shipped across a dozen seas, glinted in walnut cabinets and were reflected a thousand times in the gleam of silver salvers and the sparkle of crystal vases which adorned dozens of delicate rosewood consoles and fine oak tables.

His many visitors imagined him to be a happy man. But this was not true. Only his closest friends knew that, despite all his apparent good fortune, he was miserable. In fact he grew so wretchedly unhappy that he came to believe that his sorrow was the result of being burdened by so many possessions. And so, eventually, he decided to give them all away.

One by one he asked his friends to come and take anything which might bring them some of the happiness that he sought for himself. And so, day by day and room by room, the castle was gradually emptied until he was left with just one bag containing his most personal belongings and he was able to turn the key in the lock and say farewell to his home for ever.

With the bag over his shoulder, the young knight set off to explore the world, hoping that somehow or somewhere he would find the peace of mind that had always eluded him. As the years went by his search took him through every country he had ever heard of and many others besides. And wherever he went, from the highest of mountains to the deepest of valleys and from the driest of deserts to the thickest of jungles, he sought out simple people, hoping that they might reveal the wisdom he was seeking.

In return for his meals and lodging, he helped them to work their fields or to land their fishing nets, watched over their sheep or cut wood for an evening fire. And after supper he would often ask them why they seemed so content with so little while he, with his few remaining things, was not.

Then, with smiles and barely hidden curiosity, they would ask to see the contents of his bag and he would show them his set of clean clothes, and the knife he used to cut his bread, and the pipe he played to amuse himself, and the book containing the sketches he made, and the pen with which he drew them and finally the fine silver bowl from which he ate and drank.

One day, after many, many years and when his hair had already grown white, he found himself sitting under the stars in the Marmara Valley with a shepherd who was sharing his cloak with a young girl beside him.

"So, you seek contentment," the shepherd observed as he drew the girl closer to him, stroking her arm, and by the light of the fire surveyed the knight's few simple belongings.

"Then tell me," he asked, "which of these could you not live without?"

And the knight, thinking carefully, replied: "The bowl. The silver bowl."

There was a long silence before the knight stood up, put the bowl in his pocket, thanked the shepherd and walked away, leaving the remainder of his possessions beside them.

As the years went by, the ageing knight saw many extraordinary things, met many remarkable people and had many adventures. A simple man with his simple silver bowl, he made many friends and was greeted with affection wherever he went. But at heart he remained unhappy. Fifty years after locking his castle door, he had still not found peace of mind.

One day, approaching a village, he saw an old woman struggling to lift her bucket from a well. On frail legs he hobbled stiffly to help her. Thanking him, the old women explained that she was now so weak she could no longer carry her water home to drink. The knight thought for a few moments and then drew the bowl from his pocket and gave it to her.

"But surely you need it yourself?" she said.

"No," he replied slowly, "No, I don't think I do."

They sat for a while in the setting sun as she turned the silver bowl in her hands, deep in thought, and as he experienced a growing feeling of deep contentment. And then he explained that he must leave. But, as he struggled to his feet, he stumbled, his legs no longer able to support him.

The old lady went to a nearby thicket and returned with a stout stick.

"And you, dear friend, will need this," she said, touching his arm.

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment before he finally turned away and she watched the man and his stick until they vanished in the dust and the evening shadows.