the care of one of the court ladies, who afterward became his governess,
and between them existed a great affection, which was shared equally by
the lady’s daughter Zaïda. When he became old enough to need the
guidance of a tutor and guardian, this lady’s husband took her place,
and they both loved him as though he were their own son.
At length the young prince set forth on his journey, accompanied by his
tutor and former governess and a numerous retinue. All went well until
they left his father’s dominions, when the talisman lost its power to
protect him. They were crossing a desert under a burning sun and at
length reached an oasis, where the caravan rested. Suddenly Varna sprang
from his carriage, and immediately disappeared. As time went on and he
did not return, the tutor and his wife were filled with alarm. They
sought for him in every possible place, but could not find him.
Sadly they mingled their tears, for they were sure that this was the
work of the wicked queen and the witch of the mountain. Suddenly they
heard a voice, which came from the branches of a tree beneath which they
were sitting. Looking up, they saw a large bird, which said to them:
“You seek your prince in vain. Return to your own country and tell the
king that many moons shall come and go before his son shall be
restored.” There was nothing else to do, so they sorrowfully went home,
and when they told their sad news to the king he was so deeply grieved
that he was stricken with a severe sickness from which he never
recovered.
The wicked queen was now happy; her son was the Rajah, and she wielded
all the authority. The power that was hers made her harsher and more
cruel than ever, and the people soon began to hate her, especially as
they believed that it was she who had caused the disappearance of Prince
Varna. Fortunately, her son was loved by his subjects, for he was kind
and noble, and only this kept them from rebellion.
One day, about three years after the supposed death of Prince Varna, the
young Rajah was out hunting, a sport of which he was very fond. He and
his courtiers stopped to rest at a pleasant spot, and refreshments were
prepared for them. While at luncheon his attention was attracted to a
bird of brilliant red plumage which was perched on the branch of a tree.
Taking some crumbs, he threw them beneath the tree, and the bird flew
down and ate them.
Cautioning his courtiers to make no noise, he gradually approached the
gaily clad bird, which, to his surprise, did not fly away. In the open
palm of his hand were more crumbs, and the bird actually hopped towards
him and ate these too.
Such confidence and lack of fear quite moved the Rajah, who resolved to
take his little feathered friend home with him. He tenderly stroked its
pretty feathers, and the bird made no effort to fly away. Soon it
nestled on his shoulder and stayed there until the party returned to the
palace.
The young ruler became greatly attached to his new pet, and would allow
no one but himself to look after it. He even took it with him when he
went out walking—the bird on his shoulder.
One day when they were out together the prince passed the house where
Varna’s former governess and her daughter lived. Both of them were
sitting by an open window, and suddenly the bird flew from its master’s
shoulder to the window sill. It looked right into the eyes of both
mother and daughter and boldly approached them. This utter absence of
fear, and also, perhaps, the bright red plumage, attracted them as it
had the Rajah, and they at once fell in love with it.
The Rajah soon missed his pet, and looking about saw the two ladies
caressing it. He called and whistled, but the bird paid no attention to
him. He then entered the house, intending to take the bird away, but
when he reached the room in which they were it flew up to the ceiling
where it could not be reached.
After spending some time in vain efforts to capture the bird, the ladies
begged the Rajah to leave it with them for a few days, promising to take
the greatest care of it. To this he consented, and at once, as though
understanding all that was said, the bird flew to Zaïda and nestled on
her shoulder.
That night the mother dreamed that she saw the “good queen,” who told
her to go to a certain tree in her garden and to lift up a large stone
which she would find beneath it. There she would find a small phial
which was filled with bright red liquid. This she was to sprinkle over
the Rajah’s bird.
This dream made such an impression upon the former governess that in the
morning, as soon as she arose, she hastened to the garden. The stone was
there beneath the tree, and upon removing this she saw the phial
containing the bright red liquid.
Hurrying back to the house she told her daughter about the dream, and
showed her the small bottle she had found.
Without a word Zaïda held out her hand, to which the bird at once flew.
Her mother removed the cork and sprinkled the contents of the phial over
the bright red feathers, and there before them stood the handsome Prince
Varna.
Great was the joy of this meeting, and when they were somewhat composed
the ladies asked the prince to tell them of his adventures.
He told them that when his carriage had stopped at the oasis some force
had compelled him to spring from it, and he found himself transformed at
once into a bird. Many times had he tried to reach his own country, but
was unable to do so until now. He had suffered greatly, and his only
comfort was when the good queen visited him. It was through her that he
was at last enabled to meet his brother, and finally be turned again
into human form.
It was not long before the Queen learned from the witch of the mountain
that Prince Varna had returned, and she immediately sought to destroy
him. Hastening to her son she said that some ill-disposed subjects were
plotting to dethrone him, and that they had set up an impostor who they
declared to be Prince Varna.
The Rajah told her to have no fear, and that he would soon find the
conspirators and properly punish them. He made inquiries and found that
Prince Varna was at the house of his former governess, so he went there
at once, determined to find out the truth for himself.
The two ladies and Prince Varna were in earnest conversation when the
Rajah reached their house, and great was his astonishment to find that
this was really his long lost brother, whom he immediately recognized.
“Brother,” said he, “I came here thinking to find an impostor, but it
makes me happy to see alive you whom we have so long mourned as dead.
The throne is yours, and I am your most loyal subject.”
The two brothers embraced one another with great affection, and then
hastened to the royal palace, where, in the presence of the entire
court, the crown was placed upon Varna’s head by his brother himself.
This defeat of the wicked queen’s plans was so great a shock to her that
she immediately perished.
The new Rajah and the lovely Zaïda were soon married, and to their great
joy the good queen herself attended the wedding. Her most valued gift
was the assurance that the witch of the mountain had no more power over
him.
Varna insisted that his noble brother share the throne with him, and no
ruler was ever more beloved by faithful and loyal subjects than was each
of these.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
EMPRESS JANQWI AND THE MAGICIANS
Thousands of years ago, when China was peopled by giants, that country
was ruled by a great Empress named Janqwi, who came to the throne when
her brother, Emperor Fugi, died. This story tells how the heavens and
one of the pillars which upheld the sky were damaged during a rebellion
raised by one of her subjects, and how she mended the broken parts.
The man who rebelled was a wicked and fearsome magician named Korkwi, a
giant quite terrible to look upon. He was twenty-eight feet tall, whose
face and body were entirely covered with coal-black hair, so it can be
imagined that he was anything but beautiful.
It had long been his desire to rule the country, so when Fugi died, he
thought his opportunity had come. But Janqwi was too clever for him, and
she mounted the throne which was rightly hers.
This so enraged Korkwi that he raised a large army and defied the
Empress. The next thing he did was to use his wizard’s power, and flood
the country, so that thousands of people were drowned. This meant war
between the Empress and Korkwi.
Among the warriors of Janqwi were two brilliant young warriors named
Haki and Oku, and the first of these she appointed to command that part
of the army which would be first to engage the enemy.
This great honor delighted Haki, and he at once made himself ready for
battle. He had mounted his favorite charger and had just started for the
front when he heard his name called loudly by someone who was galloping
behind him. He looked around and saw his friend Oku, who said to him:
“Halt, Haki! I intend to lead the first army!”
This enraged Haki, who exclaimed: “You are insolent! The Empress Janqwi
has appointed me to lead our warriors into battle; your place is with
the reserves.”
To this Oku replied: “It is my right to lead the first army, and yours
to follow.”
Then Haki lunged at Oku with his sword, but the latter caused his horse
to swerve quickly, and with his lance he wounded Haki’s steed.
Haki at once dismounted and prepared to rush at his comrade when Oku,
with lightning rapidity, tore the badge of leadership from Haki’s
helmet, and galloped quickly away.
Now the Empress had seen all of this through the palace window, and she
could not help admiring the dexterity of the ambitious Oku, so she
divided the leadership of the front army between them, making Oku
commander of the left wing and Haki of the right. So the two became
friends again, and they marched against Korkwi at the head of a hundred
thousand soldiers.
They soon reached the place which the rebel had fortified, and Korkwi
thought it would be easy, with all the power that he possessed, to
frighten them into submission. Seizing an immense iron rod, he mounted a
powerful black horse, and with a roar like an angry lion he charged his
foes. But he found that Haki and Oku did not fear him.
He was coming toward them at a terrific rate, and the two comrades said
to each other: “We will attack him from right and left, and not allow
him to escape alive.” But the wizard was a fierce fighter, and his iron
rod a fearful weapon. For a long time they fought without either side
gaining.
Then Korkwi aimed a blow at Haki’s head, and in order to avoid this Haki
turned his horse too quickly, so that the animal’s rear hoof struck
against a large stone.
The horse suddenly reared up straight, and threw Haki to the ground, and
Korkwi thought he had his enemy at his mercy. Drawing his huge sword, he
was about to sever his head from his body when Oku wheeled his horse
right in front of him, and at once attacked the magician.
Now the brunt of the fight had fallen to Haki’s lot, so that Oku was
fresher than his friend. Korkwi was tired, and did not fancy engaging
the young warrior, so he turned and fled.
Haki had been only stunned by the fall, and he soon recovered. He rushed
after Korkwi on foot, while Oku pursued on horseback. Korkwi turned, and
fitting an arrow to his bow, aimed the shaft at Oku, who, being on
horseback, was ahead of his comrade. Just in time Oku swerved, so that
the arrow missed him.
When the wizard saw that he had failed to kill either of his pursuers,
he saw that he would have to use his magic power in order to save
himself, so he stretched forth his wand, and there came a great wave
which engulfed Janqwi’s army and the two young generals.
Haki and Oku were struggling in the water, and Korkwi went after them
with his iron rod, ready to strike. Suddenly a small island seemed to
lift itself out of the water right in front of them, and upon it stood
an old man, with snow white hair. He stretched out his hands over the
water, which went to the right and to the left, leaving a dry path by
means of which the young warriors reached the island.
Seeing that his enemies were now safe, Korkwi turned furiously upon
their preserver. He rushed upon the old man, who merely laughed and then
turned into a beautiful white bird and flew away.
All thought of further fighting was for the time abandoned. Haki and Oku
saw that it was useless for them, being only human, to fight against
Korkwi, who possessed supernatural powers, so they returned to the
Empress, who decided to call on Shiku, the Fire King, for aid.
Now the Fire King lived at the South Pole, where all was snow and ice,
for he burned up everything else around him. He also was a giant, with a
face like marble and whose hair and beard were snow white. He was master
of all fire, as Korkwi was of water, and his strength was marvelous.
The Empress sent Oku to the South Pole to ask Shiku for help, and this
the Fire King at once promised to give. He then told Oku that it was he
who had saved the two young generals from drowning, and Oku thanked him
for coming to their rescue.
Shiku and Oku returned to the Empress, who made the Fire King
Commander-in-Chief of her army. He told her to have no fear, for he
would certainly vanquish their enemy.
The new general was aware of the source of the magician’s power, and he
instructed all of the soldiers to gather large quantities of a certain
plant. This was done, and a great fire was made of all that was
collected, and then everyone was ordered to fill a bag full of the
ashes.
Shiku, accompanied by Haki and Oku, marched at the head of his army
against Korkwi, who, knowing that water would extinguish fire, laughed
at him. As the army approached, the magician caused the water to rise,
thinking to speedily destroy his foes. But Shiku showed no fear; he
ordered every soldier to scatter the ashes they carried, and this
mingling with the water, turned into a sort of clay, thus stopping the
progress of the water.
When Korkwi saw that Shiku was his superior in wisdom, he became furious
with rage, and charged the enemy headlong.
Oku rode to meet him, and soon the two were engaged in deadly combat.
For a long time they fought without advantage to either, then Oku began
to tire, and his comrade, seeing this, took his place. Being fresh, he
began to prove more than a match for Korkwi, who now desired to retire
from the fight. So he artfully said:
“It was courageous on your part to risk your life for your friend, and I
wish to show how highly I esteem such valor. Far be it from me to slay
such a man.”
With this he turned his horse in retreat; but his idea was to take Haki
off his guard, and then to turn on him and kill him without mercy.
But Shiku saw what his intention was at once, and called him a cowardly
deceiver. Then Korkwi attacked Shiku, who wounded him in the arm.
The magician then tried to escape in earnest, and galloped away at his
utmost speed.
It was the custom at that time for opposing armies to watch when a
champion from each side should engage in a duel, and so the armies of
Shiku and Korkwi had stood awaiting the result. Shiku now ordered his
soldiers to charge the enemy, and this they did, defeating them utterly.
Korkwi saw that fate was against him. His magic was useless to him,
because Shiku knew more than he did, so, frenzied with pain and
disappointment, he dashed his head against the rocks of Mount Kuri, and
so perished. With such force did he strike the rocks that he made a
great hole in the mountain, in which were embedded some of the pillars
which upheld the heavens, and one of these pillars was broken. One
corner of the sky thereupon began to drop, and at length it touched the
earth.
Then Shiku, taking with him the body of his enemy, returned to the
Empress Janqwi, victorious.
But trouble had not ceased for Janqwi. Fire was bursting out from the
mountain in which was the broken pillar, and was doing great damage to
the country round about. The Empress hastened to the scene of the
disaster, and found that considerable damage had been done to both
Heaven and earth.
The problem now was how to repair this damage, so she gathered together
the wise men of the kingdom to see what could be done.
Under their advice she ordered her subjects to collect all the stones
they could find of these five colors—red, blue, yellow, white and black.
These she had boiled in a huge cauldron, and the result was a cement
which would mend anything.
With Shiku’s magic help she then mounted the clouds, taking the cement
with her, and having reached that corner of the sky which was broken,
she mended it. She then repaired the broken pillar.
Now all of this was the more difficult to do because ever since the hole
was made in the mountain the moon had ceased to shine by night, and the
sun by day, so that it was quite dark, and even now it remained so.
She called another meeting of the wise men, and they decided that
neither the sun nor the moon could travel because the roads by which
they made their daily and nightly journeys had been damaged by the
accident to the pillar, and it was now necessary to inform them that
repairs had been made, and they could safely venture forth again.
But the sun and moon were millions of miles away, and the problem was
how to reach them. Then Shiku had recourse to his magic, and he produced
a chariot which could race through the air at unbelievable speed.
Haki and Oku were chosen by the Empress to be her messengers to the sun
and moon to tell them that the roads were now perfectly safe.
So these two set out on their journey in the wonderful chariot, and
finally they reached both the sun and the moon.
It was just as the wise men had said—neither sun nor moon was aware that
the roads damaged by the breaking of the pillar had been repaired, but
when they were assured by Haki and Oku that these were now perfectly
safe for travel they were satisfied, and so the Lords of Light again
took up their daily and nightly duties.
So again all was well in China, and for many years the people lived in
peace and prosperity, rejoicing in the fact that the beloved and wise
Janqwi was their Empress.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
RAJA RASALU
Once there lived a great Rajah, whose name was Salabhan, and he had a
Queen, by name Lona, who, though she wept and prayed at many a shrine,
had never a child to gladden her eyes. After a long time, however, a son
was promised to her.
Queen Lona returned to the palace, and when the time for the birth of
the promised son drew nigh, she inquired of three Jogis who came begging
to her gate, what the child’s fate would be, and the youngest of them
answered and said: “Oh, Queen! The child will be a boy, and he will live
to be a great man. But for twelve years you must not look upon his face,
for if either you or his father see it before the twelve years are past,
you will surely die! This is what you must do: As soon as the child is
born you must send him away to a cellar underneath the ground, and never
let him see the light of day for twelve years. After they are over he
may come forth, bathe in the river, put on new clothes, and visit you.
His name shall be Rajah Rasalu, and he shall be known far and wide.”
So, when a fair young Prince was in due time born, his parents hid him
away in an underground palace, with nurses and servants, and everything
else a king’s son might desire. And with him they sent a young colt,
born the same day, and sword, spear, and shield, against the day when
Rajah Rasalu should go forth into the world.
So there the child lived, playing with his colt, and talking to his
parrot; but when the twelfth year began the lad’s heart leaped up with
desire for change, and he loved to listen to the sounds of life which
came to him in his palace-prison from the outside world.
“I must go and see where the voices come from!” he said; and when his
nurses told him he must not go for one year more, he only laughed aloud,
saying, “Nay! I stay no longer here for any man!”
Then he saddled his Arab horse Bhanur, put on his shining armor; and
rode forth into the world; but, mindful of what his nurses had oft told
him, when he came to the river, he dismounted, and going into the water,
washed himself and his clothes.
Then, clean of raiment, fair of face, and brave of heart, he rode on his
way until he reached his father’s city. There he sat down to rest awhile
by a well, where the women were drawing water in earthern pitchers. Now,
as they passed him, their full pitchers poised upon their heads, the gay
young Prince flung stones at the earthern vessels, and broke them all.
Then the women, drenched with water, went weeping and wailing to the
palace, complaining to the King that a mighty young Prince in shining
armor, with a parrot on his wrist and a gallant steed beside him, sat by
the well, and broke their pitchers.
Now, as soon as Rajah Salabhan heard this he guessed at once that it was
Prince Rasalu come forth before the time, and, mindful of the Jogis’
words that he would die if he looked on his son’s face before twelve
years were past, he did not dare to send his guards to seize the
offender and bring him to be judged. So he bade the women be comforted,
and take pitchers of iron and brass, giving new ones from the treasury
to those who did not possess any of their own.
But when Prince Rasalu saw the women returning to the well with pitchers
of iron and brass, he laughed to himself, and drew his mighty bow till
the sharp-pointed arrows pierced the metal vessels as though they had
been clay.
Yet still the King did not send for him, so he mounted his steed and set
off in the pride of his youth and strength to the palace. He strode into
the audience hall, where his father sat trembling, and saluted him with
all reverence; but Rajah Salabhan, in fear of his life, turned his back
hastily and said never a word in reply.
Then Prince Rasalu called scornfully to him across the hall:
“I came to greet thee, King, and not to harm thee!
What have I done that thou shouldst turn away?
Scepter and empire have no power to charm me—
I go to seek a worthier prize than they!”
Then he strode away, full of bitterness and anger; but as he passed
under the palace windows, he heard his mother weeping, and the sound
softened his heart, so that his wrath died down, and a great loneliness
fell upon him, because he was spurned by both father and mother. So he
cried sorrowfully:
“Oh, heart crown’d with grief, hast thou nought
But tears for thy son?
Art mother of mine? Give one thought
To my life just begun!”
And Queen Lona answered through her tears:
“Yea! Mother am I, though I weep,
So hold this word sure,—
Go, reign king of all men, but keep
Thy heart good and pure!”
So Rajah Rasalu was comforted, and began to make ready for fortune. He
took with him his horse Bhanur and his parrot, both of whom had lived
with him since he was born.
So they made a goodly company, and Queen Lona, when she saw them going,
watched them from her window till she saw nothing but a cloud of dust on
the horizon; then she bowed her head on her hands and wept, saying:
“Oh! Son who ne’er gladdened mine eyes,
Let the cloud of thy going arise,
Dim the sunlight and darken the day;
For the mother whose son is away
Is as dust!”
Rasalu had started off to play chaupur[3] with King Sarkap. And as he
journeyed there came a fierce storm of thunder and lightning, so that he
sought shelter, and found none save an old graveyard, where a headless
corpse lay upon the ground. So lonesome was it that even the corpse
seemed company, and Rasalu, sitting down beside it, said:
“There is no one here, nor far nor near,
Save this breathless corpse so cold and grim;
Would God he might come to life again,
’Twould be less lonely to talk to him.”
And immediately the headless corpse arose and sat beside Rajah Rasalu.
And he, nothing astonished, said to it:
“The storm beats fierce and loud
The clouds rise thick in the West;
What ails thy grave and shroud,
Oh, corpse! That thou canst not rest?”
Then the headless corpse replied:
“On earth I was even as thou,
My turban awry like a king,
My head with the highest, I trow.
Having my fun and my fling,
Fighting my foes like a brave,
Living my life with a swing.
And, now I am dead,
Sins, heavy as lead,
Will give me no rest in my grave!”
[Footnote 3: A game very similar to the modern game of Parchesi.]