Indian Fairy Tales (12 page)

"No dog, no loan. Accordingly he ran out and killed the poor dog, when
the letter fell out of its collar. The merchant picked it up and read
it. How great was his grief and disappointment when he knew the facts
of the case!

"Beware," continued the prince, "lest you do that which afterwards you
would give your life not to have done."

By the time the prince had concluded this story it was nearly morning,
and he went away, after rewarding the man.

The prince then visited the country belonging to his brother-in-law. He
disguised himself as a jogi, and sitting down by a tree near the
palace, pretended to be absorbed in worship. News of the man and of his
wonderful piety reached the ears of the king. He felt interested in
him, as his wife was very ill; and he had sought for hakims to cure
her, but in vain. He thought that, perhaps, this holy man could do
something for her. So he sent to him. But the jogi refused to tread the
halls of a king, saying that his dwelling was the open air, and that if
his Majesty wished to see him he must come himself and bring his wife
to the place. Then the king took his wife and brought her to the jogi.
The holy man bade her prostrate herself before him, and when she had
remained in this position for about three hours, he told her to rise
and go, for she was cured.

In the evening there was great consternation in the palace, because the
queen had lost her pearl rosary, and nobody knew anything about it. At
length some one went to the jogi, and found it on the ground by the
place where the queen had prostrated herself. When the king heard this
he was very angry, and ordered the jogi to be executed. This stern
order, however, was not carried out, as the prince bribed the men and
escaped from the country. But he knew that the second bit of advice was
true.

Clad in his own clothes, the prince was walking along one day when he
saw a potter crying and laughing alternately with his wife and
children. "O fool," said he, "what is the matter? If you laugh, why do
you weep? If you weep, why do you laugh?"

"Do not bother me," said the potter. "What does it matter to you?"

"Pardon me," said the prince, "but I should like to know the reason."

"The reason is this, then," said the potter. "The king of this country
has a daughter whom he is obliged to marry every day, because all her
husbands die the first night of their stay with her. Nearly all the
young men of the place have thus perished, and our son will be called
on soon. We laugh at the absurdity of the thing—a potter's son
marrying a princess, and we cry at the terrible consequence of the
marriage. What can we do?"

"Truly a matter for laughing and weeping. But weep no more," said the
prince. "I will exchange places with your son, and will be married to
the princess instead of him. Only give me suitable garments, and
prepare me for the occasion."

So the potter gave him beautiful raiment and ornaments, and the prince
went to the palace. At night he was conducted to the apartment of the
princess. "Dread hour!" thought he; "am I to die like the scores of
young men before me?" He clenched his sword with firm grip, and lay
down on his bed, intending to keep awake all the night and see what
would happen. In the middle of the night he saw two Shahmars come out
from the nostrils of the princess. They stole over towards him,
intending to kill him, like the others who had been before him: but he
was ready for them. He laid hold of his sword, and when the snakes
reached his bed he struck at them and killed them. In the morning the
king came as usual to inquire, and was surprised to hear his daughter
and the prince talking gaily together. "Surely," said he, "this man
must be her husband, as he only can live with her."

"Where do you come from? Who are you?" asked the king, entering the
room.

"O king!" replied the prince, "I am the son of a king who rules over
such-and-such a country."

When he heard this the king was very glad, and bade the prince to abide
in his palace, and appointed him his successor to the throne. The
prince remained at the palace for more than a year, and then asked
permission to visit his own country, which was granted. The king gave
him elephants, horses, jewels, and abundance of money for the expenses
of the way and as presents for his father, and the prince started.

On the way he had to pass through the country belonging to his brother-
in-law, whom we have already mentioned. Report of his arrival reached
the ears of the king, who came with rope-tied hands and haltered neck
to do him homage. He most humbly begged him to stay at his palace, and
to accept what little hospitality could be provided. While the prince
was staying at the palace he saw his sister, who greeted him with
smiles and kisses. On leaving he told her how she and her husband had
treated him at his first visit, and how he had escaped; and then gave
them two elephants, two beautiful horses, fifteen soldiers, and ten
lacs rupees' worth of jewels.

Afterwards he went to his own home, and informed his mother and father
of his arrival. Alas! his parents had both become blind from weeping
about the loss of their son. "Let him come in," said the king, "and put
his hands upon our eyes, and we shall see again." So the prince
entered, and was most affectionately greeted by his old parents; and he
laid his hands on their eyes, and they saw again.

Then the prince told his father all that had happened to him, and how
he had been saved several times by attending to the advice that he had
purchased from the Brahmani. Whereupon the king expressed his sorrow
for having sent him away, and all was joy and peace again.

Now in a certain place there lived a Brahman named Haridatta. He was a
farmer, but poor was the return his labour brought him. One day, at the
end of the hot hours, the Brahman, overcome by the heat, lay down under
the shadow of a tree to have a doze. Suddenly he saw a great hooded
snake creeping out of an ant-hill near at hand. So he thought to
himself, "Sure this is the guardian deity of the field, and I have not
ever worshipped it. That's why my farming is in vain. I will at once go
and pay my respects to it."

When he had made up his mind, he got some milk, poured it into a bowl,
and went to the ant-hill, and said aloud: "O Guardian of this Field!
all this while I did not know that you dwelt here. That is why I have
not yet paid my respects to you; pray forgive me." And he laid the milk
down and went to his house. Next morning he came and looked, and he saw
a gold denar in the bowl, and from that time onward every day the same
thing occurred he gave milk to the serpent and found a gold denar.

One day the Brahman had to go to the village, and so he ordered his son
to take the milk to the ant-hill. The son brought the milk, put it
down, and went back home. Next day he went again and found a denar, so
he thought to himself: "This ant-hill is surely full of golden denars;
I'll kill the serpent, and take them all for myself." So next day,
while he was giving the milk to the serpent, the Brahman's son struck
it on the head with a cudgel. But the serpent escaped death by the will
of fate, and in a rage bit the Brahman's son with its sharp fangs, and
he fell down dead at once. His people raised him a funeral pyre not far
from the field and burnt him to ashes.

Two days afterwards his father came back, and when he learnt his son's
fate he grieved and mourned. But after a time, he took the bowl of
milk, went to the ant-hill, and praised the serpent with a loud voice.
After a long, long time the serpent appeared, but only with its head
out of the opening of the ant-hill, and spoke to the Brahman: "'Tis
greed that brings you here, and makes you even forget the loss of your
son. From this time forward friendship between us is impossible. Your
son struck me in youthful ignorance, and I have bitten him to death.
How can I forget the blow with the cudgel? And how can you forget the
pain and grief at the loss of your son?" So speaking, it gave the
Brahman a costly pearl and disappeared. But before it went away it
said: "Come back no more." The Brahman took the pearl, and went back
home, cursing the folly of his son.

Once upon a time there lived a King who had seven Queens, but no
children. This was a great grief to him, especially when he remembered
that on his death there would be no heir to inherit the kingdom.

Now it happened one day that a poor old fakir came to the King, and
said, "Your prayers are heard, your desire shall be accomplished, and
one of your seven Queens shall bear a son."

The King's delight at this promise knew no bounds, and he gave orders
for appropriate festivities to be prepared against the coming event
throughout the length and breadth of the land.

Meanwhile the seven Queens lived luxuriously in a splendid palace,
attended by hundreds of female slaves, and fed to their hearts' content
on sweetmeats and confectionery.

Now the King was very fond of hunting, and one day, before he started,
the seven Queens sent him a message saying, "May it please our dearest
lord not to hunt towards the north to-day, for we have dreamt bad
dreams, and fear lest evil should befall you."

The king, to allay their anxiety, promised regard for their wishes, and
set out towards the south; but as luck would have it, although he
hunted diligently, he found no game. Nor had he more success to the
east or west, so that, being a keen sportsman, and determined not to go
home empty-handed, he forgot all about his promise, and turned to the
north. Here also he was at first unsuccessful, but just as he had made
up his mind to give up for that day, a white hind with golden horns and
silver hoofs flashed past him into a thicket. So quickly did it pass
that he scarcely saw it; nevertheless a burning desire to capture and
possess the beautiful strange creature filled his breast. He instantly
ordered his attendants to form a ring round the thicket, and so
encircle the hind; then, gradually narrowing the circle, he pressed
forward till he could distinctly see the white hind panting in the
midst. Nearer and nearer he advanced, till, just as he thought to lay
hold of the beautiful strange creature, it gave one mighty bound, leapt
clean over the King's head, and fled towards the mountains. Forgetful
of all else, the King, setting spurs to his horse, followed at full
speed. On, on he galloped, leaving his retinue far behind, keeping the
white hind in view, never drawing bridle, until, finding himself in a
narrow ravine with no outlet, he reined in his steed. Before him stood
a miserable hovel, into which, being tired after his long, unsuccessful
chase, he entered to ask for a drink of water. An old woman, seated in
the hut at a spinning-wheel, answered his request by calling to her
daughter, and immediately from an inner room came a maiden so lovely
and charming, so white-skinned and golden-haired, that the King was
transfixed by astonishment at seeing so beautiful a sight in the
wretched hovel.

She held the vessel of water to the King's lips, and as he drank he
looked into her eyes, and then it became clear to him that the girl was
no other than the white hind with the golden horns and silver feet he
had chased so far.

Her beauty bewitched him, so he fell on his knees, begging her to
return with him as his bride; but she only laughed, saying seven Queens
were quite enough even for a King to manage. However, when he would
take no refusal, but implored her to have pity on him, promising her
everything she could desire, she replied, "Give me the eyes of your
seven Queens, and then perhaps I may believe you mean what you say."

The King was so carried away by the glamour of the white hind's magical
beauty, that he went home at once, had the eyes of his seven Queens
taken out, and, after throwing the poor blind creatures into a noisome
dungeon whence they could not escape, set off once more for the hovel
in the ravine, bearing with him his horrible offering. But the white
hind only laughed cruelly when she saw the fourteen eyes, and threading
them as a necklace, flung it round her mother's neck, saying, "Wear
that, little mother, as a keepsake, whilst I am away in the King's
palace."

Then she went back with the bewitched monarch, as his bride, and he
gave her the seven Queens' rich clothes and jewels to wear, the seven
Queens' palace to live in, and the seven Queens' slaves to wait upon
her; so that she really had everything even a witch could desire.

Now, very soon after the seven wretched hapless Queens had their eyes
torn out, and were cast into prison, a baby was born to the youngest of
the Queens. It was a handsome boy, but the other Queens were very
jealous that the youngest amongst them should be so fortunate. But
though at first they disliked the handsome little boy, he soon proved
so useful to them, that ere long they all looked on him as their son.
Almost as soon as he could walk about he began scraping at the mud wall
of their dungeon, and in an incredibly short space of time had made a
hole big enough for him to crawl through. Through this he disappeared,
returning in an hour or so laden with sweet-meats, which he divided
equally amongst the seven blind Queens.

As he grew older he enlarged the hole, and slipped out two or three
times every day to play with the little nobles in the town. No one knew
who the tiny boy was, but everybody liked him, and he was so full of
funny tricks and antics, so merry and bright, that he was sure to be
rewarded by some girdle-cakes, a handful of parched grain, or some
sweetmeats. All these things he brought home to his seven mothers, as
he loved to call the seven blind Queens, who by his help lived on in
their dungeon when all the world thought they had starved to death ages
before.

At last, when he was quite a big lad, he one day took his bow and
arrow, and went out to seek for game. Coming by chance past the palace
where the white hind lived in wicked splendour and magnificence, he saw
some pigeons fluttering round the white marble turrets, and, taking
good aim, shot one dead. It came tumbling past the very window where
the white Queen was sitting; she rose to see what was the matter, and
looked out. At the first glance of the handsome young lad standing
there bow in hand, she knew by witchcraft that it was the King's son.