ONCE upon a time there lived an old couple who had one son called Martin. Now, when the old man's time had come he stretched himself out on his bed and died. Though all his life long he had toiled and moiled, he only left his widow and son two hundred florins. The old woman determined to put by the money for a rainy day, but, alas! the rainy day was close at hand, for their meal was all consumed, and who is prepared to face starvation with two hundred florins at their disposal? So the old woman counted out one hundred florins, and giving them to Martin, told him to go into the town and lay in a store of meal for a year.
So Martin started off for the town. When he reached the meat market he found the whole place in turmoil and a great noise of angry voices and barking of dogs. Mixing in the crowd, he noticed a stag hound which the butchers had caught and tied to a post, and which was being flogged in a merciless manner. Overcome with pity, Martin spoke to the butchers, saying:
"Friends, why are you beating the poor dog so cruelly?"
"We have every right to beat him," they replied. "He has just devoured a newly killed pig."
"Leave off beating him," said Martin, "and sell him to me instead."
"If you choose to buy him," answered the butchers derisively; "but for such a treasure we won't take a penny less than one hundred florins."
"A hundred!" exclaimed Martin. "Well, so be it, if you will not take less"; and taking the money out of his pocket he handed it over in exchange for the dog, whose name was Schurka.
When Martin got home his mother met him with the question:
"Well, what have you bought?"
"Schurka, the dog," replied Martin, pointing to his new possession. Whereupon his mother became very angry and abused him roundly. He ought to be ashamed of himself, when there was scarcely a handful of meal in the house, to have spent the money on a useless brute like that. On the following day she sent him back to the town, saying: "Here, take our last one hundred florins and buy provisions with them. I have just emptied the last grains of meal out of the chest and baked a bannock; but it won't last over to-morrow."
Just as Martin was entering the town he met a rough-looking peasant who was dragging a cat after him by a string which was fastened around the poor beast's neck.
"Stop!" cried Martin. "Where are you dragging that poor cat?"
"I mean to drown it," was the answer.
"What harm has the poor beast done?" said Martin.
"It has just killed a goose," replied the peasant.
"Don't drown it—sell it to me instead," begged Martin.
"Not for one hundred florins," was the answer.
"Surely for one hundred florins you'll sell it?" said Martin. "See! here is the money." And so saying he handed him the one hundred florins, which the peasant pocketed, and Martin took possession of the cat, which was called Waska.
When he reached his home his mother greeted him with the question:
"Well, what have you brought back?"
"I have brought this cat, Waska," answered Martin.
"And what besides?"
"I had no money over to buy anything else with," replied Martin.
"You useless ne'er-do-weel!" exclaimed his mother in a great passion. "Leave the house at once and go and beg your bread among strangers," And as Martin did not dare to contradict her, he called Schurka and Waska and started off with them to the nearest village in search of work. On the way he met a rich peasant, who asked him where he was going.
"I want to get work as a day laborer," he answered.
"Come along with me, then. But I must tell you I engage my laborers without wages. If you serve me faithfully for a year I promise you it shall be to your advantage."
So Martin consented, and for a year he worked diligently and served his master faithfully, not sparing himself in any way. When the day of reckoning had come the peasant led him into a barn, and pointing to two full sacks said: "Take whichever of these you choose."
Martin examined the contents of the sacks, and seeing that one was full of silver and the other of sand, he said to himself: "There must be some trick about this. I had better take the sand." And throwing the sack over his shoulders he started out into the world in search of fresh work. On and on he walked, and at last he reached a great gloomy wood. In the middle of the wood he came upon a meadow, where a fire was burning, and in the midst of the fire, surrounded by flames, was a lovely damsel, more beautiful than anything that Martin had ever seen, and when she saw him she called to him:
"Martin, if you would win happiness save my life. Extinguish the flames with the sand that you earned in payment of your faithful service."
"Truly," thought Martin to himself, "it would be more sensible to save a fellow-being's life with this sand than to drag it about on one's back, seeing what a weight it is." And forthwith he lowered the sack from his shoulders and emptied itscontents on the flames, and instantly the fire was extinguished; but at the same moment lo and behold! the lovely damsel turned into a serpent and darting upon him coiled itself around his neck and whispered lovingly in his ear:
"Do not be afraid of me, Martin. I love you and will go with you through the world. But first you must follow me boldly into my father's kingdom, underneath the earth; and when we get there, remember this—he will offer you gold and silver and dazzling gems, but do not touch them. Ask him, instead, for the ring which he wears on his little finger, for in that ring lies a magic power. You have only to throw it from one hand to the other, and at once twelve young men will appear who will do your bidding, no matter how difficult it is, in a single night."
So they started on their way, and after much wandering they reached a spot where a great rock rose straight up in the middle of the road. Instantly the serpent uncoiled itself from his neck, and as it touched the damp earth it resumed the shape of the lovely damsel. Pointing to the rock, she showed him an opening just big enough for a man to wriggle through. Passing into it, they entered a long underground passage which led out on to a wide field above which spread a blue sky. In the middle of the field stood a magnificent castle built out of porphyry, with a roof of gold and with glittering battlements. And his beautiful guide told him that this was the palace in which her father lived and reigned over his kingdom in the underworld.
Together they entered the palace and were received by the King with great kindness. Turning to his daughter he said:
"My child, I had almost given up the hope of ever seeing you again. Where have you been all these years?"
"My father," she replied, "I owe my life to this youth, who saved me from a terrible death."
Upon which the King turned to Martin with a gracious smile, saying: "I will reward your courage by granting you whatever your heart desires. Take as much gold, silver, and precious stones as you choose."
"I thank you, mighty King, for your gracious offer," answered Martin, "but I do not covet either gold, silver, or precious stones; yet if you will grant me a favor, give me, I beg, the ring from off the little finger of your royal hand. Every time my eye falls on it I shall think of your gracious majesty, and when I marry I shall present it to my bride."
So the King took the ring from his finger and gave it to Martin, saying: "Take it, good youth; but with it I make one condition—you are never to confide to anyone that this is a magic ring. If you do, you will straightway bring misfortune on yourself."
Martin took the ring, and having thanked the King he set out on the same road by which he had come down into the underworld. When he had regained the upper air he started for his old home, and having found his mother still living in the old house where he had left her, they settled down together very happily. So uneventful was their life that it almost seemed as if it would go on in this way always without let or hindrance. But one day it suddenly came into his mind that he would like to get married, and, moreover, that he would choose a very grand wife—a king's daughter, in short. But as he did not trust himself as a wooer, he determined to send his old mother on the mission.
"You must go to the King," he said to her, "and demand the hand of his lovely daughter in marriage for me."
"What are you thinking of, my son?" answered the old woman, aghast at the idea. "Why cannot you marry some one in your own rank? That would be far more fitting than to send a poor old woman like me a-wooing to the King's court for the hand of a princess. Why, it is as much as our heads are worth. Neither my life nor yours would be worth anything if I went on such a fool's errand."
"Never fear, little mother," answered Martin. "Trust me; all will be well. But see that you do not come back without an answer of some kind."
And so, obedient to her son's behest, the old woman hobbled off to the palace, and without being hindered reachedthe courtyard and began to mount the flight of steps leading to the royal presence chamber. At the head of the landing rows of courtiers were collected in magnificent attire, who stared at the queer old figure, and called to her and explained to her with every kind of sign that it was strictly forbidden to mount those steps. But their stern words and forbidding gestures made no impression whatever on the old woman, and she resolutely continued to climb the stairs, bent on carrying out her son's orders. Upon this some of the courtiers seized her by the arms and held her back by sheer force, at which she set up such a yell that the King himself heard it and stepped out on to the balcony to see what was the matter. When he beheld the old woman flinging her arms wildly about and heard her scream that she would not leave the place till she had laid her case before the King, he ordered that she should be brought into his presence. And forthwith she was conducted into the golden presence chamber, where, leaning back among cushions of royal purple, the King sat, surrounded by his counselors and courtiers. Courtesying low, the old woman stood silent before him.
"Well, my good old dame, what can I do for you?" asked the King.
"I have come," replied Martin's mother—"and your majesty must not be angry with me—I have come a-wooing."
"Is the woman out of her mind?" said the King, with an angry frown.
But Martin's mother answered boldly: "If the King will only listen patiently to me and give me a straightforward answer, he will see that I am not out of my mind. You, O King, have a lovely daughter to give in marriage. I have a son—a wooer—as clever a youth and as good a son-in-law as you will find in your whole kingdom. There is nothing that he cannot do. Now tell me, O King, plump and plain, will you give your daughter to my son as wife?"
The King listened to the end of the old woman's strange request, but every moment his face grew blacker and his features sterner, till all at once he thought to himself: "Is it worthwhile that I, the King, should be angry with this poor old fool?" And all the courtiers and counselors were amazed when they saw the hard lines around his mouth and the frown on his brow grow smooth, and heard the mild but mocking tones in which he answered the old woman, saying:
"If your son is as wonderfully clever as you say, and if there is nothing in the world that he cannot do, let him build a magnificent castle, just opposite my palace windows, in twenty-four hours. The palaces must be joined together by a bridge of pure crystal. On each side of the bridge there must be growing trees, having golden and silver apples and with birds of paradise among the branches. At the right of the bridge there must be a church with five golden cupolas. In this church your son shall be wedded to my daughter, and we will keep the wedding festivities in the new castle. But if he fails to execute this my royal command, then, as a just but mild monarch, I shall give orders that you and he be taken and first dipped in tar and then in feathers, and you shall be executed in the market place for the entertainment of my courtiers."
And a smile played around the King's lips as he finished speaking, and his courtiers and counselors shook with laughter when they thought of the old woman's folly, and praised the King's wise device and said to each other: "What a joke it will be when we see the pair of them tarred and feathered! The son is just as able to grow a beard on the palm of his hand as to execute such a task in twenty-four hours."
Now, the poor old woman was mortally afraid, and in a trembling voice she asked:
"Is that really your royal will, O King? Must I take this order to my poor son?"
"Yes, old dame; such is my command. If your son carries out my order he shall be rewarded with my daughter; but if he fails, away to the tar barrel and the stake with you both!"
On her way home the poor old woman shed bitter tears, and when she saw Martin she told him what the King had said, and sobbed out:
"Didn't I tell you, my son, that you should marry some one of your own rank? It would have been better for us this day if you had. As I told you, my going to court has been as much as our lives are worth, and now we will both be tarred and feathered and burned in the public market place. It is terrible!" And she moaned and cried.
"Never fear, little mother," answered Martin. "Trust me, and you will see all will be well. You may go to sleep with a quiet mind."
And stepping to the front of the hut Martin threw his ring from the palm of one hand into the other, upon which twelve youths instantly appeared and demanded what he wanted them to do. Then he told them the King's commands, and they answered that by next morning all should be accomplished exactly as the King had ordered.
Next morning when the King awoke and looked out of his window, to his amazement he beheld a magnificent castle, just opposite his own palace, and joined to it by a bridge of pure crystal.
At each side of the bridge trees were growing, from whose branches hung golden and silver apples, among which birds of paradise perched. At the right, gleaming in the sun, were the five golden cupolas of a splendid church, whose bells rang out as if they would summon people from all corners of the earth to come and behold the wonder. Now, though the King would much rather have seen his future son-in-law tarred, feathered, and burned at the stake, he remembered his royal oath and had to make the best of a bad business. So he took heart of grace and made Martin a duke, and gave his daughter a rich dowry, and prepared the grandest wedding feast that had ever been seen, so that to this day the old people in the country still talk of it.
After the wedding Martin and his royal bride went to dwell in the magnificent new palace, and here Martin lived in the greatest comfort and luxury, such luxury as he had never imagined. But though he was as happy as the day was long and as merry as a grig, the King's daughter fretted all day,thinking of the indignity that had been done her in making her marry Martin, the poor widow's son, instead of a rich young prince from a foreign country. So unhappy was she that she spent all her time wondering how she should get rid of her undesirable husband. And first she determined to learn the secret of his power, and with flattering, caressing words she tried to coax him to tell her how he was so clever that there was nothing in the world that he could not do. At first he would tell her nothing; but once, when he was in a yielding mood, she approached him with a winning smile on her lovely face, and speaking flattering words to him she gave him a potion to drink, with a sweet, strong taste. And when he had drunk it Martin's lips were unsealed, and he told her that all his power lay in the magic ring that he wore on his finger, and he described to her how to use it, and still speaking he fell into a deep sleep. And when she saw that the potion had worked and that he was sound asleep, the Princess took the magic ring from his finger, and going into the courtyard she threw it from the palm of one hand into the other. On the instant the twelve youths appeared and asked her what she commanded them to do. Then she told them that by the next morning they were to do away with the castle and the bridge and the church, and put in their stead the humble hut in which Martin used to live with his mother, and that while he slept her husband was to be carried to his old lowly room; and that they were to bear her away to the utmost ends of the earth, where an old king lived who would make her welcome in his palace and surround her with the state that befitted a royal princess.
"You shall be obeyed," answered the twelve youths at the same moment. And lo and behold! the following morning when the King woke and looked out of his window he beheld to his amazement that the palace, bridge, church, and trees had all vanished, and there was nothing in their place but a bare, miserable-looking hut.
Immediately the King sent for his son-in-law and commanded him to explain what had happened. But Martinlooked at his royal father-in-law and answered never a word. Then the King was very angry, and calling a council together, he charged Martin with having been guilty of witchcraft, and of having deceived the King, and having made away with the Princess; and he was condemned to imprisonment in a high stone tower, with neither meat nor drink, till he should die of starvation.
Then, in the hour of his dire necessity, his old friends Schurka (the dog) and Waska (the cat) remembered how Martin had once saved them from a cruel death; and they took counsel together as to how they should help him. And Schurka growled and was of opinion that he would like to tear everyone in pieces; but Waska purred meditatively, scratched the back of her ear with a velvet paw, and remained lost in thought. At the end of a few minutes she had made up her mind, and turning to Schurka, said: "Let us go together into the town, and the moment we meet a baker you must make a rush between his legs and upset the tray from off his head. I will lay hold of the rolls and will carry them off to our master." No sooner said than done. Together the two faithful creatures trotted off into the town, and very soon they met a baker bearing a tray on his head and looking around on all sides while he cried:
"Fresh rolls, sweet cake,Fancy bread of every kind,Come and buy, come and take,Sure you'll find it to your mind."
At that moment Schurka made a rush between his legs—the baker stumbled, the tray was upset, the rolls fell to the ground, and while the man angrily pursued Schurka, Waska managed to drag the rolls out of sight behind a bush. And when a moment later Schurka joined her, they set off at full tilt to the stone tower where Martin was a prisoner, taking the rolls with them. Waska, being very agile, climbed up by the outside to the grated window and called in an anxious voice:
"Are you alive, master?"
"Scarcely alive—almost starved to death," answered Martin in a weak voice. "I little thought it would come to this, that I should die of hunger."
"Never fear, dear master. Schurka and I will look after you," said Waska. And in another moment she had climbed down and brought him back a roll, and then another and another till she had brought him the whole tray load. Upon which she said: "Dear master, Schurka and I are going off to a distant kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth to fetch you back your magic ring. You must be careful that the rolls last till our return."
And Waska took leave of her beloved master and set off with Schurka on their journey. On and on they traveled, looking always to right and left for traces of the Princess, following up every track, making inquiries of every cat and dog they met, listening to the talk of every wayfarer they passed; and at last they heard that the kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth, where the twelve youths had borne the Princess, was not very far off. And one day they reached that distant kingdom, and going at once to the palace they began to make friends with all the dogs and cats in the place and to question them about the Princess and the magic ring; but no one could tell them much about either. Now, one day it chanced that Waska had gone down to the palace cellar to hunt for mice and rats, and seeing an especially fat, well-fed mouse, she pounced upon it, buried her claws in its soft fur, and was just going to gobble it up when she was stopped by the pleading tones of the little creature, saying: "If you will only spare my life I will be of great service to you. I will do everything in my power for you; for I am the king of the mice, and if I perish the whole race will die out."
"So be it," said Waska. "I will spare your life, but in return you must do something for me. In this castle there lives a princess, the wicked wife of my dear master. She has stolen away his magic ring. You must get it away from her atwhatever cost. Do you hear? Till you have done this I won't take my claws out of your fur."
"Good!" replied the mouse. "I will do what you ask." And so saying he summoned all the mice in his kingdom together. A countless number of mice, small and big, brown and gray, assembled and formed a circle around their king, who was a prisoner under Waska's claws. Turning to them he said: "Dear and faithful subjects, whoever among you will steal the magic ring from the strange Princess will release me from a cruel death, and I shall honor him above all the other mice in the kingdom."
Instantly a tiny mouse stepped forward and said: "I often creep about the Princess's bedroom at night, and I have noticed that she has a ring which she treasures as the apple of her eye. All day she wears it on her finger, and at night she keeps it in her mouth. I will undertake, sire, to steal away the ring for you."
And the tiny mouse tripped away into the bedroom of the Princess and waited for nightfall; then, when the Princess had fallen asleep, it crept up on to her bed and gnawed a hole in the pillow, through which it dragged, one by one, little down feathers and threw them under the Princess's nose. And the fluff flew into the Princess's nose and into her mouth, and starting up she sneezed and coughed, and the ring fell out of her mouth on to the coverlet. In a flash the tiny mouse had seized it and brought it to Waska as a ransom for the king of the mice. Thereupon Waska and Schurka started off and traveled night and day till they reached the stone tower where Martin was imprisoned; and the cat climbed up the window and called out to him:
"Martin, dear master, are you still alive?"
"Ah! Waska, my faithful little cat, is that you?" replied a weak voice. "I am dying of hunger. For three days I have not tasted food."
"Be of good heart, dear master," replied Waska. "From this day forth, you will know nothing but happiness and prosperity. If this were a moment to trouble you with riddles,I would make you guess what Schurka and I have brought you back. Only think, we have found you your ring!"
At these words Martin's joy knew no bounds, and he stroked her fondly and she rubbed up against him and purred happily, while below Schurka bounded in the air and barked joyfully. Then Martin took the ring and threw it from one hand into the other, and instantly the twelve youths appeared and asked what they were to do.
"Fetch me first something to eat and drink as quickly as possible; and after that bring musicians hither and let us have music all day long."
Now, when the people in the town and palace heard music coming from the tower they were filled with amazement, and came to the King with the news that witchcraft must be going on in Martin's tower, for instead of dying of starvation he was seemingly making merry to the sound of music and to the clatter of plates and glass and knives and forks; and the music was so enchantingly sweet that all the passers-by stood still to listen to it. On this the King sent at once a messenger to Starvation Tower, and he was so astonished with what he saw that he remained rooted to the spot. Then the King sent his chief counselors, and they too were transfixed with wonder. At last the King came himself, and he likewise was spellbound by the beauty of the music.
Then Martin summoned the twelve youths and said to them: "Build up my castle again and join it to the King's palace with a crystal bridge. Do not forget the trees with the golden and silver apples and with the birds of paradise in the branches, and put back the church with the five cupolas, and let the bells ring out, summoning the people from the four corners of the kingdom. And one thing more—bring back my faithless wife and lead her into the women's chamber."
And it was all done as he commanded, and leaving Starvation Tower he took the King, his father-in-law, by the arm and led him into the new palace, where the Princess sat in fear and trembling awaiting her death. And Martin spoke to the King, saying: "King and royal father, I have sufferedmuch at the hands of your daughter. What punishment shall be dealt to her?"
Then the mild King answered: "Beloved Prince and son-in-law, if you love me, let your anger be turned to grace—forgive my daughter and restore her to your heart and favor."
And Martin's heart was softened and he forgave his wife, and they lived happily together ever after. And his old mother came and lived with them, and he never parted with Schurka and Waska; and I need hardly tell you that he never again let the ring out of his possession.
THERE once lived a camel and a jackal who were great friends. One day the Jackal said to the Camel: "I know that there is a fine field of sugar cane on the other side of the river. If you will take me across, I'll show you the place. This plan will suit me as well as you. You will enjoy eating the sugar cane, and I am sure to find many crabs, bones, and bits of fish by the riverside, on which to make a good dinner."
The Camel consented and swam across the river, taking the Jackal, who could not swim, on his back. When they reached the other side, the Camel went to eating the sugar cane, and the Jackal ran up and down the river bank devouring all the crabs, bits of fish, and bones he could find.
But being so much smaller an animal, he had made an excellent meal before the Camel had eaten more than two or three mouthfuls; and no sooner had he finished his dinner than he ran round and round the sugar-cane field, yelping and howling with all his might.
The villagers heard him, and thought: "There is a jackal among the sugar canes; he will be scratching holes in the ground and spoiling the roots of the plants." And they all went down to the place to drive him away. But when they got there they found to their surprise not only a jackal, but a camelwho was eating the sugar canes! This made them very angry, and they caught the poor Camel and drove him from the field and beat and beat him until he was nearly dead.
When they had gone, the Jackal said to the Camel, "We had better go home." And the Camel said: "Very well; then jump upon my back as you did before."
So the Jackal jumped upon the Camel's back, and the Camel began to recross the river. When they had got well into the water the Camel said: "This is a pretty way in which you have treated me, friend Jackal. No sooner had you finished your own dinner than you must go yelping about the place loud enough to arouse the whole village, and bring all the villagers down to beat me black and blue, and turn me out of the field before I had eaten two mouthfuls! What in the world did you make such a noise for?"
"I don't know," said the Jackal. "It is a habit I have. I always like to sing a little after dinner."
The Camel waded on through the river. The water reached up to his knees—then above them—up, up, up, higher and higher, until he was obliged to swim. Then turning to the Jackal he said, "I feel very anxious to roll." "Oh, pray don't; why do you wish to do so?" asked the Jackal. "I don't know," answered the Camel. "It is a habit I have. I always like to have a little roll after dinner." So saying, he rolled over in the water, shaking the Jackal off as he did so. And the Jackal was drowned, but the Camel swam safely ashore.
ONCE upon a time a Brahman, who was walking along the road, came upon an iron cage, in which a great tiger had been shut up by the villagers who caught him.
As the Brahman passed by, the Tiger called out and said to him: "Brother Brahman, brother Brahman, have pity on me,and let me out of this cage for one minute only to drink a little water, for I am dying of thirst." The Brahman answered: "No, I will not; for if I let you out of the cage you will eat me."
"Oh, father of mercy," answered the Tiger, "in truth that I will not. I will never be so ungrateful; only let me out, that I may drink some water and return." Then the Brahman took pity on him and opened the cage door; but no sooner had he done so than the Tiger, jumping out, said: "Now, I will eat you first and drink the water afterwards." But the Brahman said: "Only do not kill me hastily. Let us first ask the opinion of six, and if all of them say it is just and fair that you should put me to death, then I am willing to die."
"Very well," answered the Tiger, "it shall be as you say; we will first ask the opinion of six."
So the Brahman and the Tiger walked on till they came to a Banyan tree; and the Brahman said to it: "Banyan Tree, Banyan Tree, hear and give judgment." "On what must I give judgment?" asked the Banyan Tree. "This Tiger," said the Brahman, "begged me to let him out of his cage to drink a little water, and he promised not to hurt me if I did so; but now, that I have let him out, he wishes to eat me. Is it just that he should do so or no?"
The Banyan Tree answered: "Men often come to take shelter in the cool shade under my boughs from the scorching rays of the sun; but when they have rested, they cut and break my pretty branches and wantonly scatter my leaves. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men are an ungrateful race."
At these words the Tiger would have instantly killed the Brahman, but the Brahman said: "Tiger, Tiger, you must not kill me yet, for you promised that we should first hear the judgment of six." "Very well," said the Tiger, and they went on their way. After a little while they met a camel. "Sir Camel, Sir Camel," cried the Brahman, "hear and give judgment." "On what shall I give judgment?" asked the Camel. And the Brahman related how the Tiger had begged him to open the cage door, and promised not to eat him if hedid so; and how he had afterwards determined to break his word, and asked if that were just or not. The Camel replied: "When I was young and strong, and could do much work, my master took care of me and gave me good food; but now that I am old, and have lost all my strength in his service, he overloads me and starves me and beats me without mercy. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men are an unjust and cruel race."
The Tiger would then have killed the Brahman, but the latter said: "Stop, Tiger, for we must first hear the judgment of six."
So they both went again on their way. At a little distance they found a bullock lying by the roadside. The Brahman said to him: "Brother Bullock, brother Bullock, hear and give judgment." "On what must I give judgment?" asked the Bullock. The Brahman answered: "I found this Tiger in a cage, and he prayed me to open the door and let him out to drink a little water, and promised not to kill me if I did so; but when I had let him out he resolved to put me to death. Is it fair that he should do so or not?" The Bullock said: "When I was able to work my master fed me well and tended me carefully, but now I am old he has forgotten all I did for him, and left me by the roadside to die. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men have no pity."
Three out of the six had given judgment against the Brahman, but still he did not lose all hope and determined to ask the other three.
They next met an eagle flying through the air, to whom the Brahman cried, "O Eagle, great Eagle, hear and give judgment." "On what must I give judgment?" asked the Eagle. The Brahman stated the case, and the Eagle answered: "Whenever men see me they try to shoot me; they climb the rocks and steal away my little ones. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men are the persecutors of the earth."
Then the Tiger began to roar and said: "The judgment of all is against you, O Brahman!" But the Brahman answered: "Stay yet a little longer, for two others must first be asked."After this they saw an alligator, and the Brahman related the matter to him, hoping for a more favorable verdict. But the Alligator said: "Whenever I put my nose out of the water men torment me and try to kill me. Let the Tiger eat the man, for as long as men live we shall have no rest."
The Brahman gave himself up as lost; but again he prayed the Tiger to have patience and let him ask the opinion of the sixth judge. Now the sixth was a jackal. The Brahman told his story, and said to him: "Uncle Jackal, Uncle Jackal, say what is your judgment?" The Jackal answered: "It is impossible for me to decide who is in the right and who in the wrong unless I see the exact position in which you were when the dispute began. Show me the place." So the Brahman and the Tiger returned to the place where they first met, and the Jackal went with them. When they got there, the Jackal said: "Now Brahman, show me exactly where you stood." "Here," said the Brahman, standing by the iron tiger cage. "Exactly there, was it?" asked the Jackal. "Exactly here," replied the Brahman. "Where was the Tiger, then?" asked the Jackal. "In the cage," answered the Tiger. "How do you mean?" said the Jackal; "how were you within the cage? which way were you looking?" "Why, I stood so," said the Tiger, jumping into the cage, "and my head was on this side." "Very good," said the Jackal, "but I cannot judge without understanding the whole matter exactly. Was the cage door open or shut?" "Shut and bolted," said the Brahman. "Then shut and bolt it," said the Jackal.
When the Brahman had done this, the Jackal said: "Oh, you wicked and ungrateful Tiger! when the good Brahman opened your cage door, is to eat him the only return you would make? Stay there, then, for the rest of your days, for no one will ever let you out again. Proceed on your journey, friend Brahman. Your road lies that way and mine this."
So saying, the Jackal ran off in one direction, and the Brahman went rejoicing on his way in the other.
ONCE upon a time there were a rajah and ranee who had no children. Long had they wished and prayed that the gods would send them a son, but it was all in vain—their prayers were not granted. One day a number of fish were brought into the royal kitchen to be cooked for the Rajah's dinner, and among them was one little fish that was not dead, though all the rest were dead. One of the palace maid servants seeing this, took the little fish and put him in a basin of water. Shortly afterwards the Ranee saw him, and, thinking him very pretty, kept him as a pet; and because she had no children she lavished all her affection on the fish and loved him as a son; and the people called him Muchie Rajah (the Fish Prince). In a little while Muchie Rajah had grown too long to live in the small basin, so they put him in a larger one, and then when he grew too long for that, into a big tub. In time, however, Muchie Rajah became too large for even the big tub to hold him, so the Ranee had a tank made for him in which he lived very happily; and twice a day she fed him with boiled rice. Now, though the people fancied Muchie Rajah was only a fish, this was not the case. He was, in truth, a young rajah who had angered the gods, and been turned by them into a fish and thrown into the river as a punishment.
One morning, when the Ranee brought him his daily meal of boiled rice, Muchie Rajah called out to her and said: "Queen Mother, Queen Mother, I am so lonely here all by myself! Cannot you get me a wife?" The Ranee promised to try, and sent messengers to all the people she knew to ask if they would allow one of their children to marry her son, the Fish Prince. But they all answered: "We cannot give one of our dear little daughters to be devoured by a great fish, even though he is the Muchie Rajah and so high in your majesty's favor."
At news of this the Ranee did not know what to do. Shewas so foolishly fond of Muchie Rajah, however, that she resolved to get him a wife at any cost. Again she sent out messengers, but this time she gave them a great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs,[G]and said to them: "Go into every land until you find a wife for my Muchie Rajah, and to whoever will give you a child to be the Muchie Ranee you shall give this bag of gold mohurs." The messengers started on their search, but for some time they were unsuccessful. Not even the beggars were to be tempted to sell their children, fearing the great fish would devour them. At last one day the messengers came to a village where there lived a fakir, who had lost his first wife and married again. His first wife had had one little daughter, and his second wife also had a daughter. As it happened, the Fakir's second wife hated her little stepdaughter, always gave her the hardest work to do and the least food to eat, and tried by every means in her power to get her out of the way in order that the child might not rival her own daughter. When she heard of the errand on which the messengers had come, she sent for them when the Fakir was out, and said to them: "Give me the bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little daughter to marry the Muchie Rajah." ("For," she thought to herself, "the great fish will certainly eat the girl, and she will thus trouble us no more.") Then, turning to her stepdaughter, she said: "Go down to the river and wash your saree, that you may be fit to go with these people, who will take you to the Ranee's court." At these words the poor girl went down to the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope of escape, as her father was from home. As she knelt by the riverside, washing her saree and crying bitterly, some of her tears fell into the hole of an old seven-headed cobra, who lived on the river bank. This Cobra was a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden, he put his head out of his hole and said to her, "Little girl, why do you cry?" "Oh, sir," she answered, "I am very unhappy, for my father is from home, and my stepmother has sold me to the Ranee's people to be the wifeof the Muchie Rajah, that great fish, and I know he will eat me up." "Do not be afraid, my daughter," said the Cobra; "but take with you these three stones and tie them up in the corner of your saree"; and so saying he gave her three little round pebbles. "The Muchie Rajah, whose wife you are to be, is not really a fish, but a rajah who has been enchanted. Your home will be a little room which the Ranee has had built in the tank wall. When you are taken there, wait and be sure you don't go to sleep or the Muchie Rajah will certainly come and eat you up. But as you hear him coming rushing through the water, be prepared, and as soon as you see him throw this first stone at him; he will then sink to the bottom of the tank. The second time he comes, throw the second stone, when the same thing will happen. The third time he comes, throw this third stone, and he will immediately resume his human shape." So saying, the old Cobra dived down again into his hole. The Fakir's daughter took the stones and determined to do as the Cobra had told her, though she hardly believed it would have the desired effect.
When she reached the palace the Ranee spoke kindly to her, and said to the messengers: "You have done your errand well; this is a dear little girl." Then she ordered that she should be let down the side of the tank in a basket to a little room which had been prepared for her. When the Fakir's daughter got there, she thought she had never seen such a pretty place in her life, for the Ranee had caused the little room to be very nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite; and she would have felt very happy away from her cruel stepmother and all the hard work she had been made to do, had it not been for the dark water that lay black and unfathomable below the door, and the fear of the terrible Muchie Rajah.
After waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, and little waves came dashing against the threshold; faster they came and faster, and the noise got louder and louder, until she saw a great fish's head above the water—Muchie Rajahwas coming toward her open-mouthed. The Fakir's daughter seized one of the stones that the Cobra had given her and threw it at him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank; a second time he rose and came toward her, and she threw the second stone at him, and he again sank down; a third time he came more fiercely than before, when, seizing the third stone, she threw it with all her force. No sooner did it touch him than the spell was broken, and there, instead of a fish, stood a handsome young prince. The poor little Fakir's daughter was so startled that she began to cry. But the Prince said to her: "Pretty maiden, do not be frightened. You have rescued me from a horrible thraldom, and I can never thank you enough; but if you will be the Muchie Ranee, we will be married to-morrow." Then he sat down on the doorstep, thinking over his strange fate and watching for the dawn.
girl before ranee"THE RANEE SAID, 'THIS IS A DEAR LITTLE GIRL'"
Next morning early several inquisitive people came to see if the Muchie Rajah had eaten up his poor little wife, as they feared he would; what was their astonishment, on looking over the tank wall, to see, not the Muchie Rajah, but a magnificent prince! The news soon spread to the palace. Down came the Rajah, down came the Ranee, down came all their attendants and dragged Muchie Rajah and the Fakir's daughter up the side of the tank in a basket; and when they heard their story there were great and unparalleled rejoicings. The Ranee said: "So I have indeed found a son at last!" And the people were so delighted, so happy and so proud of the new Prince and Princess that they covered all their path with damask from the tank to the palace, and cried to their fellows: "Come and see our new Prince and Princess. Were ever any so divinely beautiful? Come see a right royal couple—a pair of mortals like the gods!" And when they reached the palace the Prince was married to the Fakir's daughter.
There they lived very happily for some time. The Muchie Ranee's stepmother, hearing what had happened, came often to see her stepdaughter, and pretended to be delighted at hergood fortune; and the Ranee was so good that she quite forgave all her stepmother's former cruelty, and always received her very kindly. At last, one day, the Muchie Ranee said to her husband: "It is a weary while since I saw my father. If you will give me leave, I should much like to visit my native village and see him again." "Very well," he replied, "you may go. But do not stay away long, for there can be no happiness for me till you return." So she went, and her father was delighted to see her; but her stepmother, though she pretended to be very kind, was, in reality, only glad to think she had got the Ranee into her power, and determined, if possible, never to allow her to return to the palace again. One day therefore she said to her own daughter: "It is hard that your stepsister should have become Ranee of all the land instead of being eaten up by the great fish, while we gained no more than a lac of gold mohurs. Do now as I bid you, that you may become ranee in her stead." She then went on to instruct her how she must invite the Ranee down to the river bank, and there beg her to let her try on her jewels, and while putting them on give her a push and drown her in the river.
The girl consented, and standing by the river bank, said to her stepsister: "Sister, may I try on your jewels? How pretty they are!" "Yes," said the Ranee, "and we shall be able to see in the river how they look." So, undoing her necklaces, she clasped them around the other's neck. But while she was doing so her stepsister gave her a push, and she fell backward into the water. The girl watched to see that the body did not rise, and then, running back, said to her mother: "Mother, here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us no more." But it happened that just when her stepsister pushed the Ranee into the river her old friend the Seven-headed Cobra chanced to be swimming across it, and seeing the little Ranee likely to be drowned, he carried her on his back until they reached his hole, into which he took her safely. Now this hole, in which the Cobra and his wife and all his little ones lived had two entrances—the one under the waterand leading to the river, and the other above water, leading out into the open fields. To this upper end of his hole the Cobra took the Muchie Ranee, where he and his wife took care of her; and there she lived with them for some time. Meanwhile, the wicked Fakir's wife, having dressed up her own daughter in all the Ranee's jewels, took her to the palace, and said to the Muchie Rajah: "See, I have brought your wife, my dear daughter, back safe and well." The Rajah looked at her, and thought, "This does not look like my wife." However, the room was dark and the girl was cleverly disguised, and he thought he might be mistaken. Next day he said again: "My wife must be sadly changed or this cannot be she, for she was always bright and cheerful. She had pretty loving ways and merry words, while this woman never opens her lips." Still, he did not like to seem to mistrust his wife, and comforted himself by saying, "Perhaps she is tired with the long journey." On the third day, however, he could bear the uncertainty no longer, and tearing off her jewels saw, not the face of his own little wife, but another woman. Then he was very angry and turned her out of doors, saying: "Begone! since you are but the wretched tool of others, I spare your life." But of the Fakir's wife he said to his guards: "Fetch that woman here instantly, for unless she can tell me where my wife is, I will have her hanged." It chanced, however, that the Fakir's wife had heard of the Muchie Rajah having turned her daughter out of doors; so, fearing his anger, she hid herself, and was not to be found.
Meantime, the Muchie Ranee, not knowing how to get home, continued to live in the great Seven-headed Cobra's hole, and he and his wife and all his family were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been one of them; and there her little son was born, and she called him Muchie Lal,[H]after the Muchie Rajah, his father. Muchie Lal was a lovely child, merry and brave, and his playmates all day long were the young cobras. When he was about three years old a bangle seller came by that way, and the Muchie Ranee boughtsome bangles from him and put them on her boy's wrists and ankles; but by the next day, in playing, he had broken them all. Then, seeing the bangle seller, the Ranee called him again and bought some more, and so on every day until the bangle seller got quite rich from selling so many bangles for the Muchie Lal—for the Cobra's hole was full of treasure, and he gave the Muchie Ranee as much money to spend every day as she liked. There was nothing she wished for he did not give her, only he would not let her try to get home to her husband, which she wished more than all. When she asked him he would say: "No, I will not let you go. If your husband comes here and fetches you, it is well; but I will not allow you to wander in search of him through the land alone."
And so she was obliged to stay where she was.
All this time the poor Muchie Rajah was hunting in every part of the country for his wife, but he could learn no tidings of her. For grief and sorrow at losing her he had gone well-nigh distracted, and did nothing but wander from place to place, crying, "She is gone! she is gone!" Then, when he had long inquired without avail of all the people in her native village about her, he one day met a bangle seller, and said to him, "Whence do you come?" The bangle seller answered: "I have just been selling bangles to some people who live in a cobra's hole in the river bank." "People! What people?" asked the Rajah. "Why," answered the bangle seller, "a woman and a child. The child is the most beautiful I ever saw. He is about three years old, and of course, running about, is always breaking his bangles, and his mother buys him new ones every day." "Do you know what the child's name is?" said the Rajah. "Yes," answered the bangle seller carelessly, "for the lady always calls him her Muchie Lal." "Ah," thought the Muchie Rajah, "this must be my wife." Then he said to him again: "Good bangle seller, I would see these strange people of whom you speak; cannot you take me there?" "Not to-night," replied the bangle seller; "daylight has gone, and we should only frighten them; but I shall be going there again to-morrow, and then you maycome too. Meanwhile, come and rest at my house for the night, for you look faint and weary." The Rajah consented. Next morning, however, very early, he woke the bangle seller, saying: "Pray let us go now and see the people you spoke about yesterday." "Stay," said the bangle seller; "it is much too early. I never go till after breakfast." So the Rajah had to wait till the bangle seller was ready to go. At last they started off, and when they reached the Cobra's hole the first thing the Rajah saw was a fine little boy playing with the young cobras.
As the bangle seller came along, jingling his bangles, a gentle voice from inside the hole called out: "Come here, my Muchie Lal, and try on your bangles." Then the Muchie Rajah, kneeling down at the mouth of the hole, said, "O lady, show your beautiful face to me." At the sound of his voice the Ranee ran out, crying, "Husband, husband! have you found me again!" And she told him how her sister had tried to drown her, and how the good Cobra had saved her life and taken care of her and her child. Then he said, "And will you now come home with me?" And she told him how the Cobra would never let her go, and said: "I will first tell him of your coming; for he has been as a father to me." So she called out: "Father Cobra, father Cobra, my husband has come to fetch me; will you let me go?" "Yes," he said, "if your husband has come to fetch you, you may go." And his wife said: "Farewell, dear lady, we are loth to lose you, for we have loved you as a daughter." And all the little cobras were very sorrowful to think that they must lose their playfellow, the young Prince. Then the Cobra gave the Muchie Rajah and the Muchie Ranee and Muchie Lal all the most costly gifts he could find in his treasure-house, and so they went home, where they lived very happy ever after.