[2] A galail is a double-stringed bow from which bullets or pellets of
hard dried clay can be fired with considerable force and precision.
_THE COMB AND THE COLLAR_
Once upon a time there was a king of Lombardy who, though he was
uglier than any of his subjects, loved beauty in others, so he married
a wife who was declared by everyone to be the handsomest of women;
and, whispered some, the most ill-natured also. Certainly she could
not endure the sight of a pretty person, and her ladies were all the
plainest of their sex. Worse than all, she was desperately jealous of
the king's son and daughter by his former wife.
Unfortunately, in spite of all her evil qualities, the king was her
complete slave, and badly though she treated the boy, the lovely
princess was made to suffer ten times as much. Not contented with
giving the girl, for a governess, a woman whose temper was as bad as
the queen's own, the cruel step-mother did everything she could think
of to spoil the girl's beauty, and to force her to appear as ugly as
she was herself; but, try as she might, when the hideous clothes and
frightful brown paint had been removed, her loveliness shone out as
bright as ever.
* * * * *
Now the king of Lombardy was cousin to the Archduke of Placenza, who
had lately lost his reason, to the great grief of his son and
daughter, Perarthrites and Ferrandina. The doctors having all failed
to restore him to health, the prince and princess sent a messenger to
consult a famous enchantress, called the Mother of Sheaths, because
everyone who visited her brought with him a knife, which she thrust
into one of the sheaths with which her cavern was lined. However, they
obtained little comfort from the witch, who bade them 'seek their
father's wits in the place where he had lost them.' Against the wishes
of the chief ministers, Perarthrites and Ferrandina rode off to the
mysterious castle where the king had slept when his terrible fate had
overtaken him, and, once inside the gates, nothing more was heard of
them.
* * * * *
When three weeks had passed and still there was no news, the king's
chief minister called a council to talk over the matter, and, at the
end, it was decided that a company of distinguished persons should
visit the Mother of Sheaths, and that the knives they must take with
them should be of pure gold, richly set with precious stones. The
witch was so pleased with the beauty of the gifts that she not only
listened attentively to their story, but proceeded to a hole in the
cavern, from which she drew out a little case containing a comb, and a
steel collar, fastened by a gold key.
'Carry this comb and the collar to every court until you find a lady
beautiful enough to unlock the collar, and a man good enough to draw
the comb from its case. When you have discovered these, you can return
whence you came.'
'But I do not see,' said the chamberlain, 'how that will help us to
bring back our lost prince and princess.'
'It is all I can do for you,' answered the Mother of Sheaths; and she
went into the back of the cavern, where they dared not follow her.
* * * * *
For the next few months the mad king's principal ministers wandered
from one court to another, till at last they reached Lombardy, where
they found that their story had already travelled before them. As soon
as they appeared in the presence-chamber the king received them with
open arms, for in his heart he had no doubt that his wife was the
peerless beauty destined to unfasten the collar. And, indeed, if paint
and hair-dye and magnificent dresses could have ensured her doing so,
he would certainly have been right. But, blinded by his love for this
wicked woman, he had really no idea that her charms were not her own.
At the appointed hour the queen entered the throne-room, having by her
side the young princess, in the most grievous plight imaginable. Her
dress was so contrived as to give the idea that she had a hump; her
pink-and-white skin was thickly covered with yellow paint, and her
black hair all hidden by a close-fitting brown cloth cap. Murmurs of
indignation rose on all sides, and the ambassadors, who had frequently
heard the princess compared to the lovely Ferrandina, were dumb with
astonishment. As for the king, he could hardly raise his eyes from the
ground, so ashamed was he; and signing to his son to take his place,
he withdrew from the scene.
Mounting the throne, the prince commanded the trial to begin at once,
and the collar was handed to the princess's governess, who, being one
of the ugliest women that ever was seen, naturally failed to turn the
key. Seizing the chance of his being for a short time in power, the
prince resolved to punish her cruelties towards his sister, and
especially this last one, to which she had prompted the queen, and
ordered her to be taken out and executed, which was done, with great
good will, by the attendants. He then further commanded the ladies in
waiting to attend his sister to her apartments, and bathe her and
dress her in the queen's most splendid robes, as she had none of her
own; and the queen, though gnashing her teeth with anger, for once
dared not interfere. More quickly than could have been expected, the
princess returned, looking so beautiful that if anyone had doubted
before who would be able to unlock the collar they were instantly
convinced. The prince glanced at her, but said nothing, and, signing
to one of the ambassadors, he ordered him to make trial of the comb.
One by one each man present did his best to remove it from its case,
and one by one each was forced to own himself beaten. At length only
the prince remained, but as he was the judge he must wait till the
last.
After the men had finished, the ladies of the court had the collar
presented to them according to rank, but none could even turn the key.
Finally it was handed to the queen, who managed to open it a little
way. Her heart beat with triumph, but immediately it closed again with
a snap, and she sank back, fainting from disappointment.
By this time there were only left the prince and his sister; and no
sooner did he touch the case than it opened of itself, while the lock
of the collar yielded directly the princess took hold of the key.
Cries of delight rose from the courtiers and attendants; but these
were interrupted by a whirlwind accompanied by thick darkness, and
followed by an earthquake.
When all was calm again, and the sun shining, the prince and princess
had disappeared.
[Illustration: THE PRINCESS AND THE WOLVES IN THE FOREST]
Although the king's son and daughter were the only persons who had
vanished in the storm, unluckily they had been carried off in opposite
directions. The rapid motion through the air deprived the princess of
her senses, which she nearly lost a second time, from fright, when she
was set down alone in the middle of a thick forest. She ran wildly
about, calling to her brother to come to her aid; but her cries only
attracted the attention of some hungry wolves, who sprung towards her
with their jaws gaping and their red tongues hanging out. Falling on
her knees, she covered her face with one hand unconsciously grasping
the collar with the other, and awaited her doom. Already she could
feel their hot breath on her cheek, and crouched lower and lower,
when the eyes of the foremost wolf caught sight of the collar. With a
howl that echoed through the forest he bounded away, followed by his
companions.
As soon as the princess had recovered from the shock she rose and
fled, without knowing whither, until she found herself in a broad
road, and beheld, approaching her, a flock of sheep driven by two
shepherds. She hastened towards them in order to implore their help,
when suddenly the sheep caught sight of her collar and instantly
scattered in all directions.
'I must have something about me which frightens all beasts,' she
thought, and took great comfort therefrom; and in good spirits she
went her way, till she came to the gates of an old castle. She was
just about to enter and beg for a night's shelter, when a snow white
fox ran across the road, and stopped in front of her.
He was so pretty, and had such bright beseeching eyes, that the
princess hastily tucked the collar under her dress, lest he too should
flee at the sight of it. Very gently she drew near, hoping he might
follow her into the castle, but he only set off in another direction,
and, tired though she was, something forced the girl to follow him.
Thankful indeed was she when he turned a corner and sat down before
the door of a tiny palace, which was built on the bank of a river.
When she came up he took the hem of her dress between his teeth and
led her into a room where there was a table covered with milk and
fruit. After she had eaten and drunk, she lay down upon a pile of
cushions, with the fox at her feet, and fell asleep to dream of her
lost brother.
If the princess was dreaming of her brother, he was no less thinking
of her, on the wild sea-shore, whither the whirlwind had cast him. All
was bleak and bare, except a green island which he could only see from
the top of a high rock where he passed all his days, gazing on the
waving palm trees and glittering waterfalls in the distance.
'Suppose she should be there?' he said to himself; and though there
was no reason to expect that the princess should be in that place more
than in any other, he could not get the notion out of his head.
A song, sung in the loveliest voice he had ever heard, roused the
young man from his musings, and he instantly turned in the direction
from which it had come. But though the singer seemed close to him he
could see her nowhere, and indeed, no sooner had he reached one spot
than the voice sounded in another direction, and he followed it up and
down, till he was suddenly stopped by the sight of a large fish's
skin, which lay stretched on the sand between the sea and the rocks.
The thing was so ugly, that he stepped aside in disgust, and at that
instant something leapt into the sea behind his back. This caused him
to look round. The fish's skin was no longer there, but in a cave in
the rock behind it he discovered a bath of ebony lined with gold,
which glittered in the sunlight.
Days passed without any adventures, and the prince had almost made up
his mind to leave the shore, and to seek his sister inland, when once
more he heard the voice that had so charmed him, and beheld the bloody
skin lying on the sand, and the bath, now filled with water, in the
grotto. Little sleep had he that night, and before dawn he hid himself
behind the rocks, determined not to move from the place till the fish
should come back again.
He had not very long to wait, for with the first rays of the sun there
appeared, out to sea, a shining white object which was blown by gentle
breezes towards the shore. As it came nearer he beheld a maiden, of
dazzling loveliness, seated in a shell where blues and pinks and
greens all melted into each other. In her hand she held the rope with
which the shell was guided.
The prince was so bewildered at her beauty that he forgot that he was
in hiding, and, rushing out, sank on his knees on the sands, holding
out his hands towards this wonderful vision. But as he did so the comb
and its case fell out of his pocket, and at the sight the lady uttered
a wild shriek, and, steering her shell round, vanished speedily in the
direction of the island. Throwing off his clothes, the prince was
preparing to swim after her, when he perceived beside him a snow white
fox, looking the same way, and making frantic signs with his paws,
till a small boat put out and set sail towards them, to the great joy
of the little creature.
When the boat drew up to the beach, the fox waved his paw towards the
prince's clothes, which he took to mean that he was to put them on
again. This done, they both got in, and had just pushed off, when the
prince suddenly recollected that the sight of the comb had frightened
away the beautiful lady. In a transport of fury he raised his hand to
fling it into the sea, but the fox sprang on him and held on so
tightly to his arm that he could not lift it. At that moment a
horseman on the shore let fly an arrow at the fox, with so true an aim
that the little creature fell heavily into the well of the boat, and
closed its eyes, like one who has received his death-blow. The grief
of the prince was sore. He instantly leaped to land, but the murderer
was already far distant. When the young man turned round again, the
boat and the fox were nowhere to be seen.
An approaching storm drove him into the grotto, which was lighted up
by a multitude of tapers, each one being in the shape of a knife half
out of its sheath. Over the bath was a tent-shaped covering of white,
embroidered with sheaths, and from beneath it came a voice:
'Prince, will you trust me whatever happens, knowing that my heart is
yours, and as I feel that yours is mine? But, beware, for if you give
the smallest sign of fear, when the tent is opened, you will lose me
for ever.'
She did well to warn him; and even then he had much ado to keep the
colour in his cheeks and his hand from trembling, for a crocodile's
head with snapping jaws advanced towards him. With a mighty effort he
managed to remain still, and to gaze steadily at the horrible beast,
and as he did so, the head bent backwards, and beneath it was seen the
lovely countenance of the Lady of the Shell.
'Quick! prince! quick! the time is flying, comb me at once or I shall
vanish from your sight.' At her words he took out the comb, but found
to his surprise that it needed all his strength to draw it from its
sheath. And, strange to say, that in proportion as the comb emerged
from its sheath the lady's head was freed from its horrible covering,
and her body rose a little more out of the water. When her shoulders
and arms were freed, she called to him:
'Enough, so far you have obeyed my orders. Now burn my skin.'
'Ah, that I can _never_ do,' cried he; but the lady cut him short.
'Then we shall both rue it for ever,' she said gravely; 'for I can
only be the wife of him who will burn my skin.' And while he still
stood hesitating, the curtains of the tent fell back on her, and the
tapers fizzled out.
Bitterly repenting his slowness, he wandered towards the forest where
a fire was burning, hardly knowing what he did; but on his way he
almost fell over the skin, which was lying across his path.
[Illustration: 'QUICK! PRINCE! QUICK! THE TIME IS FLYING, COMB ME
AT ONCE!']
'Ah, fool that I was! This must be the skin she wished me to burn,'
said he. And seizing it in both hands he flung it into the fire, where
it exploded with a terrific noise. At first he rushed off to some
distance, not knowing what might next befall, but after a while found
that his steps had led him back to the place of the fire. The skin had
gone and left no traces, but among the cinders he beheld something
shining, which proved to be the magic collar. Ah! then his sister, for
whom he had so greatly longed, must be near at last! And before he
could turn his head or pick up the collar, her arms were round his
neck, and everything else was forgotten.
'You shall tell your story first,' she said, when at length they could
speak. And so he did; but his head was so full of the Lady of the
Shell that he forgot to say anything about the fox. And it was well
that he had forgotten, for when the princess had poured forth her own
adventures, she ended up by speaking of all she owed to the little
white fox.
'You cannot even guess the care he took of me in the little palace.
But though nothing could exceed his kindness, I saw by his eyes that
there was something he wanted me to give him, but I could not tell
what. Alas! the day came that I learnt it to my cost. I had hidden the
collar in a thick bush, lest the fox should catch sight of it and be
scared away as the other animals had been. But, one day, when we were
in the garden, the sun happened to shine straight on it, and he sprang
towards it with every sign of delight. He was about to seize it
between his teeth when it closed with a loud noise. The fox fled away
with a piercing scream, and though I have sought him far and wide, I
have never seen him since. I was here when you flung the skin into the
cinders, and no doubt, in my hurry to escape, the collar must have
dropped from me. Ah, dear brother,' she continued with tears in her
eyes, 'I can no longer live without my beloved fox; help me, I entreat
you, to find him.'
So great was her grief that the prince dared not tell her what sad
fate had overtaken the poor little animal, and trusted that time might
soothe her. He assured her that he would go with her wherever she
desired if she would grant him this one day to spend on the sea-shore;
and with this the princess was forced to be content.
The prince was standing on the rock, looking out towards the lovely
island, and straining his eyes to see the white sail once more, when
frightful shrieks from the wood a little way off caused him to hasten
with all his speed in that direction. He soon perceived a knight on
horseback with a bow slung to his back, struggling to lift a woman on
to his saddle. The knights' surprise at the sight of a man in this
desolate spot caused him to drop the woman's arm, and she rushed to
take shelter behind her defender, who, to his amazement, then
recognised his step-mother.
'How did you come here?' he asked coldly, more than half regretting
that he had not left her to her fate; but she read what was in his
heart, and fell on her knees before him.
'Oh, forgive me my wickedness,' she cried, 'for indeed I have repented
of it long ago, and come to the aid of your father who has been sorely
smitten by that mad archduke from whom you have just saved me! There
is no time to pursue him,' she added, as the prince started at the
sound of the vanishing hoofs; and as they pushed their way along the
path she told him all that had happened since they had last met.
'From the moment that the king knew of my cruelty to your sister,'
said she, 'he vowed he would never see me again, and left the court in
search of you both. I followed him secretly, but not being able to
gain any tidings of him, consulted the Mother of Sheaths, who took me
to rest in that island where the palm trees are waving. There she
showed me a lovely princess who, under a spell, was forced daily to
take the form of a crocodile, and when the dreaded moment arrived the
skin appeared before her, and, shudder as she might, some unseen power
impelled her to wrap herself in it and plunge into the sea. It is to
this island I am leading you; but first we must find your sister, for
on her presence hangs the life of the white fox--if, indeed, he is not
dead already.'
'The white fox!' exclaimed the prince. 'What do you know of him?'
'Not much,' answered the queen; 'but, since I arrived on the island,
he was always with us, and charmed us all. Yesterday we missed him,
but in the evening a little boat drifted up on the sands, and in it
lay the fox, covered with blood. While his wounds were being tended in
the palace with all the care imaginable, I set out to consult a
wizard, who told me that I must enter the skiff and seek for the
prince and princess of Lombardy, and that if, in twenty-four hours, I
could bring them into the presence of the fox, his life would be
saved. On a rock along the beach I found your father with an arrow
through his shoulder, from the bow of his cousin the mad archduke, who
was drawing another from his quiver, destined for me, when I fled into
the forest!'
'My father so near!' cried the prince. 'We must return and seek him,
and also look for my sister.'
* * * * *
They found her in the grotto, with her father's head in her lap,
trying vainly to staunch his wounds. Between them they contrived to
carry him to the boat, which sailed swiftly towards the island. On the
way the prince gently broke to his sister the sad state of the white
fox.
'Take me to him!' she said, as soon as the boat touched the island;
and in silence the queen went down the path to the palace.
The white fox was lying on a soft mattress in front of a fire, his
eyes closed, and a look on his face which told that death was not far
distant. But he knew, somehow, that the princess was near him, and
opened his eyes and wagged his tail feebly. The princess burst into
sobs and tears, till a hand on her shoulder checked her.
'Why do you waste the few moments that are left you in this manner?'
asked the governor of the island sternly. 'Place the collar you wear
round his neck, and he will be cured at once. But you must act
quickly.'
The princess seemed turned to stone as she listened. 'The collar!'
she gasped. 'But I have not got it, I lost it in the forest!' And the
thousand sheaths with which the walls were hung took up the cry:
'The collar is lost! The collar is lost!'
[Illustration: THE PRINCESS SAVES THE WHITE FOX]
'What collar are you talking about?' asked the king, who was lying on
another bed, with the physicians bending over him. 'Here is one that I
picked up among some cinders, before that madman shot me--perhaps it
may be the one you want, or, at all events, it may do as well.' And he
signed to an attendant to take the collar from the pocket of his
velvet jerkin.
The princess leapt forward with joy at the sight of the precious
thing, and snatching it from the hand of the man she placed it round
the neck of the fox. All present held their breath as they watched
what was happening; and what _did_ happen was that his legs grew
longer and longer, and his nose grew shorter and shorter. The fox was
gone, and in his stead there lay Perarthrites, in a coat of thick
white fur.
But though the prince of Lombardy was rejoiced to see his friend and
cousin again, his heart still bled for the beautiful lady who had
vanished so mysteriously. His face was so troubled that the governor
of the island marked it, and asked what was the matter. 'Oh! help me,
if you can,' cried the prince. 'The thought of the sufferings that the
enchanted nymph may be undergoing tortures me!'
'They are far worse than you can imagine,' gravely replied the
governor; 'but if you still possess your comb, you may yet relieve her
of them. Ah! that is well,' he continued, as the prince quickly drew
the comb from its case. 'Now follow me.'
Not only the prince, but every one else followed; and the governor led
them down a long gallery to a heavy iron door, which flew open at its
own accord. But what a sight met the prince's eyes! The lady whom he
had last beheld in peerless beauty was sitting in a chair wrapped in
flames, which were twisting like hair about her head. Her face was
swollen and red; her mouth was open as if gasping for breath. Only her
arms and neck were as lovely as ever in their whiteness.
'This is your doing,' said the governor to the prince; 'you brought
her to this when you burnt the crocodile's skin. Now try if, by
combing, you can soothe her agony.'
At the first touch of the comb the flames became suddenly
extinguished; at the second, the look of pain vanished from the face,
and it shrank into its usual size; at the third, she rose from the
chair, lovelier than she ever was before, and flung herself into the
arms of her brother Perarthrites.
* * * * *
After this there was nothing more to be done but to marry the two
couples as fast as possible. And when the wedding was over,
Perarthrites and his bride returned to Placenza, and Ferrandina and
her husband to Lombardy, and they all lived happily till they died.
(From Count Anthony Hamilton's _Fairy Tales_.)
_THE THANKSGIVING OF THE WAZIR_
Once upon a time there lived in Hindustan two kings whose countries
bordered upon each other; but, as they were rivals in wealth and
power, and one was a Hindu rajah and the other a Mohammedan badshah,
they were not good friends at all. In order, however, to escape
continual quarrels, the rajah and the badshah had drawn up an
agreement, stamped and signed, declaring that if any of their
subjects, from the least to the greatest, crossed the boundary between
the two kingdoms, he might be seized and punished.
One morning the badshah and his chief wazir, or prime minister, were
just about to begin their morning's work over the affairs of the
kingdom, and the badshah had taken up a pen and was cutting it to his
liking with a sharp knife, when the knife slipped and cut off the tip
of his finger.
'Oh-he, wazir!' cried the king, 'I've cut the tip of my finger off!'
'That is good hearing!' said the wazir in answer.
'Insolent one,' exclaimed the king. 'Do you take pleasure in the
misfortunes of others, and in mine also? Take him away, my guards, and
put him in the court prison until I have time to punish him as he
deserves!'
Instantly the officers in attendance seized upon the luckless wazir,
and dragged him out of the king's presence towards the narrow doorway,
through which unhappy criminals were wont to be led to prison or
execution. As the door opened to receive him, the wazir muttered
something into his great white beard which the soldiers could not
hear.
'What said the rascal?' shouted the angry king.
He says, 'he thanks your majesty,' replied one of the gaolers. And at
his words, the king stared at the closing door, in anger and
amazement.
'He must be mad,' he cried, 'for he is grateful, not only for the
misfortunes of others, but for his own; surely something has turned
his head!'
Now the king was very fond of his old wazir, and although the court
physician came and bound up his injured finger with cool and healing
ointment, and soothed the pain, he could not soothe the soreness of
the king's heart, nor could any of all his ministers and courtiers,
who found his majesty very cross all the day long.
Early next morning the king ordered his horse and declared that he
would go hunting. Instantly all was bustle and preparation in stable
and hall, and by the time he was ready a score of ministers and
huntsmen stood ready to mount and accompany him; but to their
astonishment the king would have none of them. Indeed, he glared at
them so fiercely that they were glad to leave him. So away and away he
wandered, over field and through forest, so moody and thoughtful that
many a fat buck and gaudy pheasant escaped without notice, and so
careless was he whither he was going that he strayed without
perceiving it over into the rajah's territory, and only discovered the
fact when, suddenly, men stepped from all sides out of a thicket, and
there was nothing left but surrender. Then the poor badshah was seized
and bound and taken to the rajah's prison, thinking most of the time
of his wazir, who was suffering a similar fate, and wishing that, like
the wazir, he could feel that there was something to give thanks for.
That night the rajah held a special council to consider what should
be done to his rival who had thus given himself into his hands. All
the Brahmans were sent for--fat priests who understood all about
everything, and what days were lucky and what unlucky--and, whilst all
the rest of the rajah's councillors were offering him different advice
until he was nearly crazy with anger and indecision, the chief Brahman
was squatting in a corner figuring out sums and signs to himself with
an admiring group of lesser priests around him. At last he arose, and
advanced towards the throne.
'Well,' said the rajah anxiously, 'what have you to advise?'
'A very unlucky day!' exclaimed the chief Brahman. 'Oh, a very unlucky
day! The god Devi is full of wrath, and commands that to-morrow you
must chop off this badshah's head and offer it in to him in
sacrifice.'
'Ah, well,' said the rajah, 'let it be done. I leave it to you to
carry out the sentence.' And he bowed to the priests and left the
room.
Before dawn great preparations were being made for a grand festival in
honour of the great idol Devi. Hundreds of banners waved, hundreds of
drummers drummed, hundreds of singers chanted chants, hundreds of
priests, well washed and anointed, performed their sacred rites,
whilst the rajah sat, nervous and ill at ease, amongst hundreds of
courtiers and servants, wishing it were all well over. At last the
time came for the sacrifice to be offered, and the poor badshah was
led out bound, to have his head chopped off.
The chief Brahman came along with a smile on his face, and a big sword
in his hand, when, suddenly, he noticed that the badshah's finger was
tied up in a bit of rag. Instantly he dropped the sword, and, with his
eyes starting out of his head with excitement, pounced upon the rag
and tore it off, and there he saw that the tip of his victim's finger
was missing. At this he got very red and angry indeed, and he led the
badshah up to where the rajah sat wondering.
'Behold! O rajah,' he said, 'this sacrifice is useless, the tip of his
finger is gone! A sacrifice is no sacrifice unless it is complete.'
And he began to weep with rage and mortification.
But of instead of wailing likewise, the rajah gave a sigh of relief,
and answered: 'Well, that settles the matter. If it had been anyone
else I should not have minded; but, somehow--a king and all--well, it
doesn't seem quite right to sacrifice a king.' And with that he jumped
up and with his jewelled dagger cut the badshah's cords, and marched
with him out of the temple back to the palace.
After having bathed and refreshed his guest, the rajah loaded him with
gifts, and himself accompanied him with a large escort as far as the
frontier between their kingdoms, where, amidst salutes and great
rejoicings, they tore up the old agreement and drew up another in
which each king promised welcome and safe conduct to any of the
other's people, from the least to the greatest, who came over the
border on any errand whatever. And so they embraced, and each went his
own way.
When the badshah got home that very evening he sent for his imprisoned
wazir.
'Well, O wazir!' he said, when the old man had been brought before
him, 'what think you has been happening to me?'
'How can a man in prison know what is happening outside it?' answered
the wazir.
Then the badshah told him all his adventures. And when he had reached
the end he added:
'I have made up my mind, as a token of gratitude for my escape, to
pardon you freely, if you will tell me why you gave thanks when I cut
off the tip of my finger.'
'Sire,' replied the old wazir, 'am I not right in thinking that it
was a very lucky thing for you that you _did_ cut off the tip of your
finger, for otherwise you would certainly have lost your head. And to
lose a scrap of one's finger is surely the least of the two evils.'
'Very true,' answered the king, touching his head as he spoke, as if
to make quite certain that it was still there, 'but yet--why did you
likewise give thanks when I put you into prison?'
'I gave thanks,' said the wazir, 'because it is good always to give
thanks. And had I known that my being in prison was to prevent the god
Devi claiming me instead of your majesty, as a perfect offering, I
should have given greater thanks still.'
(Punjabi story.)
_SAMBA THE COWARD_
In the great country far away south, through which flows the river
Nile, there lived a king who had an only child called Samba.
Now, from the time that Samba could walk he showed signs of being
afraid of everything, and as he grew bigger he became more and more
frightened. At first his father's friends made light of it, and said
to each other:
'It is strange to see a boy of our race running into a hut at the
trumpeting of an elephant, and trembling with fear if a lion cub half
his size comes near him; but, after all, he is only a baby, and when
he is older he will be as brave as the rest.'
'Yes, he is only a baby,' answered the king who overheard them, 'it
will be all right by-and-by.' But, somehow, he sighed as he said it,
and the men looked at him and made no reply.
The years passed away, and Samba had become a tall and strong youth.
He was good-natured and pleasant, and was liked by all, and if during
his father's hunting parties he was seldom to be seen in any place of
danger, he was too great a favourite for much to be said.
'When the king holds the feast and declares him to be his heir, he
will cease to be a child,' murmured the rest of the people, as they
had done before; and on the day of the ceremony their hearts beat
gladly, and they cried to each other:
'It is Samba, Samba, whose chin is above the heads of other men, who
will defend us against the tribes of the robbers!'
* * * * *
Not many weeks after, the dwellers in the village awoke to find that
during the night their herds had been driven away, and their herdsmen
carried off into slavery by their enemies. Now was the time for Samba
to show the brave spirit that had come to him with his manhood, and to
ride forth at the head of the warriors of his race. But Samba could
nowhere be found, and a party of the avengers went on their way
without him.
It was many days later before he came back, with his head held high,
and a tale of a lion which he had tracked to its lair and killed, at
the risk of his own life. A little while earlier and his people would
have welcomed his story, and believed it all, but now it was too late.
'Samba the Coward,' cried a voice from the crowd; and the name stuck
to him, even the very children shouted it at him, and his father did
not spare him. At length he could bear it no longer, and made up his
mind to leave his own land for another where peace had reigned since
the memory of man. So, early next morning, he slipped out to the
king's stables, and choosing the quietest horse he could find, he rode
away northwards.
Never as long as he lived did Samba forget the terrors of that
journey. He could hardly sleep at night for dread of the wild beasts
that might be lurking behind every rock or bush, while, by day, the
distant roar of a lion would cause him to start so violently, that he
almost fell from his horse. A dozen times he was on the point of
turning back, and it was not the terror of the mocking words and
scornful laughs that kept him from doing so, but the terror lest he
should be forced to take part in their wars. Therefore he held on, and
deeply thankful he felt when the walls of a city, larger than he had
ever dreamed of, rose before him.
Drawing himself up to his full height, he rode proudly through the
gate and past the palace, where, as was her custom, the princess was
sitting on the terrace roof, watching the bustle in the street below.
'That is a gallant figure,' thought she, as Samba, mounted on his big
black horse, steered his way skilfully among the crowds; and,
beckoning to a slave, she ordered him to go and meet the stranger, and
ask him who he was and whence he came.
'Oh, princess, he is the son of a king, and heir to a country which
lies near the Great River,' answered the slave, when he had returned
from questioning Samba. And the princess on hearing this news summoned
her father, and told him that if she was not allowed to wed the
stranger she would die unmarried.
Like many other fathers, the king could refuse his daughter nothing,
and besides, she had rejected so many suitors already that he was
quite alarmed lest no man should be good enough for her. Therefore,
after a talk with Samba, who charmed him by his good humour and
pleasant ways, he gave his consent, and three days later the wedding
feast was celebrated with the utmost splendour.
The princess was very proud of her tall handsome husband, and for some
time she was quite content that he should pass the days with her under
the palm trees, telling her the stories that she loved, or amusing her
with tales of the manners and customs of his country, which were so
different to those of her own. But, by-and-by, this was not enough;
she wanted other people to be proud of him too, and one day she said:
'I really almost wish that those Moorish thieves from the north would
come on one of their robbing expeditions. I should love so to see you
ride out at the head of our men, to chase them home again. Ah, how
happy I should be when the city rang with your noble deeds!'
[Illustration: SAMBA FOUND SKULKING BY HIS WIFE]
She looked lovingly at him as she spoke; but, to her surprise, his
face grew dark, and he answered hastily:
'Never speak to me again of the Moors or of war. It was to escape from
them that I fled from my own land, and at the first word of invasion I
should leave you for ever.'
'How funny you are,' cried she, breaking into a laugh. 'The idea of
anyone as big as you being afraid of a Moor! But still, you mustn't
say those things to anyone except me, or they might think you were in
earnest.'
* * * * *
Not very long after this, when the people of the city were holding a
great feast outside the walls of the town, a body of Moors, who had
been in hiding for days, drove off all the sheep and goats which were
peacefully feeding on the slopes of a hill. Directly the loss was
discovered, which was not for some hours, the king gave orders that
the war drum should be beaten, and the warriors assembled in the great
square before the palace, trembling with fury at the insult which had
been put upon them. Loud were the cries for instant vengeance, and for
Samba, son-in-law of the king, to lead them to battle. But shout as
they might, Samba never came.
And where was he? No further than in a cool, dark cellar of the
palace, crouching among huge earthenware pots of grain. With a rush of
pain at her heart, there his wife found him, and she tried with all
her strength to kindle in him a sense of shame, but in vain. Even the
thought of the future danger he might run from the contempt of his
subjects was as nothing when compared with the risks of the present.
'Take off your tunic of mail,' said the princess at last; and her
voice was so stern and cold that none would have known it. 'Give it to
me, and hand me besides your helmet, your sword and your spear.' And
with many fearful glances to right and to left, Samba stripped off
the armour inlaid with gold, the property of the king's son-in-law.
Silently his wife took, one by one, the pieces from him, and fastened
them on her with firm hands, never even glancing at the tall form of
her husband who had slunk back to his corner. When she had fastened
the last buckle, and lowered her vizor, she went out, and mounting
Samba's horse, gave the signal to the warriors to follow.
Now, although the princess was much shorter than her husband, she was
a tall woman, and the horse which she rode was likewise higher than
the rest, so that when the men caught sight of the gold-inlaid suit of
chain armour, they did not doubt that Samba was taking his rightful
place, and cheered him loudly. The princess bowed in answer to their
greeting, but kept her vizor down; and touching her horse with the
spur, she galloped at the head of her troops to charge the enemy. The
Moors, who had not expected to be so quickly pursued, had scarcely
time to form themselves into battle array, and were speedily put to
flight. Then the little troop of horsemen returned to the city, where
all sung the praises of Samba their leader.
The instant they reached the palace the princess flung her reins to a
groom, and disappeared up a side staircase, by which she could,
unseen, enter her own rooms. Here she found Samba lying idly on a heap
of mats; but he raised his head uneasily as the door opened and looked
at his wife, not feeling sure how she might act towards him. However,
he need not have been afraid of harsh words: she merely unbuttoned her
armour as fast as possible, and bade him put it on with all speed.
Samba obeyed, not daring to ask any questions; and when he had
finished the princess told him to follow her, and led him on to the
flat roof of the house, below which a crowd had gathered, cheering
lustily.
'Samba, the king's son-in-law! Samba, the bravest of the brave! Where
is he? Let him show himself!' And when Samba did show himself the
shouts and applause became louder than ever. 'See how modest he is! He
leaves the glory to others!' cried they. And Samba only smiled and
waved his hand, and said nothing.
Out of all the mass of people assembled there to do honour to Samba,
one alone there was who did not shout and praise with the rest. This
was the princess's youngest brother, whose sharp eyes had noted
certain things during the fight which recalled his sister much more
than they did her husband. Under promise of secrecy, he told his
suspicions to the other princes, but only got laughed at, and was
bidden to carry his dreams elsewhere.
'Well, well,' answered the boy, 'we shall see who is right; but the
next time we give battle to the Moors I will take care to place a
private mark on our commander.'
In spite of their defeat, not many days after the Moors sent a fresh
body of troops to steal some cattle, and again Samba's wife dressed
herself in her husband's armour, and rode out at the head of the
avenging column. This time the combat was fiercer than before, and in
the thick of it her youngest brother drew near, and gave his sister a
slight wound on the leg. At the moment she paid no heed to the pain,
which, indeed, she scarcely felt; but when the enemy had been put to
flight and the little band returned to the palace, faintness suddenly
overtook her, and she could hardly stagger up the staircase to her own
apartments.
'I am wounded,' she cried, sinking down on the mats where he had been
lying, 'but do not be anxious; it is really nothing. You have only got
to wound yourself slightly in the same spot and no one will guess that
it was I and not you who were fighting.'
'What!' cried Samba, his eyes nearly starting from his head in
surprise and terror. 'Can you possibly imagine that I should agree to
anything so useless and painful? Why, I might as well have gone to
fight myself!'
'Ah, I ought to have known better, indeed,' answered the princess, in
a voice that seemed to come from a long way off; but, quick as
thought, the moment Samba turned his back she pierced one of his bare
legs with a spear.
He gave a loud scream and staggered backwards, from astonishment, much
more than from pain. But before he could speak his wife had left the
room and had gone to seek the medicine man of the palace.
'My husband has been wounded,' said she, when she had found him, 'come
and tend him with speed, for he is faint from loss of blood.' And she
took care that more than one person heard her words, so that all that
day the people pressed up to the gate of the palace, asking for news
of their brave champion.
'You see,' observed the king's eldest sons, who had visited the room
where Samba lay groaning, 'you see, O wise young brother, that we were
right and you were wrong about Samba, and that he really _did_ go into
the battle.' But the boy answered nothing, and only shook his head
doubtfully.
It was only two days later that the Moors appeared for the third time,
and though the herds had been tethered in a new and safer place, they
were promptly carried off as before. 'For,' said the Moors to each
other, 'the tribe will never think of our coming back so soon when
they have beaten us so badly.'
When the drum sounded to assemble all the fighting men, the princess
rose and sought her husband.
'Samba,' cried she, 'my wound is worse than I thought. I can scarcely
walk, and could not mount my horse without help. For to-day, then, I
cannot do your work, so you must go instead of me.'
'What nonsense,' exclaimed Samba, 'I never heard of such a thing.
Why, I might be wounded, or even killed! You have three brothers. The
king can choose one of them.'
'They are all too young,' replied his wife; 'the men would not obey
them. But if, indeed, you will not go, at least you can help me
harness my horse.' And to this Samba, who was always ready to do
anything he was asked when there was no danger about it, agreed
readily.
So the horse was quickly harnessed, and when it was done the princess
said:
'Now ride the horse to the place of meeting outside the gates, and I
will join you by a shorter way, and will change places with you.'
Samba, who loved riding in times of peace, mounted as she had told
him, and when he was safe in the saddle, his wife dealt the horse a
sharp cut with her whip, and he dashed off through the town and
through the ranks of the warriors who were waiting for him. Instantly
the whole place was in motion. Samba tried to check his steed, but he
might as well have sought to stop the wind, and it seemed no more than
a few minutes before they were grappling hand to hand with the Moors.
Then a miracle happened. Samba the coward, the skulker, the terrified,
no sooner found himself pressed hard, unable to escape, than something
sprang into life within him, and he fought with all his might. And
when a man of his size and strength begins to fight he generally
fights well.
That day the victory was really owing to Samba, and the shouts of the
people were louder than ever. When he returned, bearing with him the
sword of the Moorish chief, the old king pressed him in his arms and
said:
'Oh, my son, how can I ever show you how grateful I am for this
splendid service?'
But Samba, who was good and loyal when fear did not possess him,
answered straightly:
'My father, it is to your daughter and not to me to whom thanks are
due, for it is she who has turned the coward that I was into a brave
man.'
(_Contes Soudainais._ Par C. Monteil.)
_KUPTI AND IMANI_
Once there was a king who had two daughters; and their names were
Kupti and Imani. He loved them both very much, and spent hours in
talking to them, and one day he said to Kupti, the elder:
'Are you satisfied to leave your life and fortune in my hands?'
'Verily yes,' answered the princess, surprised at the question. 'In
whose hands should I leave them, if not in yours?'
But when he asked his younger daughter Imani the same question, she
replied:
'No, indeed! If I had the chance I would make my own fortune.'
At this answer the king was very displeased, and said:
'You are too young to know the meaning of your words. But, be it so; I
will give you the chance of gratifying your wish.'
Then he sent for an old lame fakir who lived in a tumbledown hut on
the outskirts of the city, and when he had presented himself, the king
said:
'No doubt, as you are very old and nearly crippled, you would be glad
of some young person to live with you and serve you; so I will send
you my younger daughter. She wants to earn her living, and she can do
so with you.'
Of course the old fakir had not a word to say, or, if he had, he was
really too astonished and troubled to say it; but the young princess
went off with him smiling, and tripped along quite gaily, whilst he
hobbled home with her in perplexed silence.
Directly they got to the hut the fakir began to think what he could
arrange for the princess's comfort; but after all he was a fakir, and
his house was bare except for one bedstead, two old cooking pots and
an earthen jar for water, and one cannot get much comfort out of those
things. However, the princess soon ended his perplexity by asking:
'Have you any money?'
'I have a penny somewhere,' replied the fakir.
'Very well,' rejoined the princess, 'give me the penny and go out and
borrow me a spinning-wheel and a loom.'
After much seeking the fakir found the penny and started on his
errand, whilst the princess went off shopping. First she bought a
farthing's worth of oil, and then she bought three farthings' worth of
flax. When she got back with her purchases she set the old man on the
bedstead and rubbed his crippled leg with the oil for an hour. Then
she sat down to the spinning-wheel and spun and spun all night long
whilst the old man slept, until, in the morning, she had spun the
finest thread that ever was seen. Next she went to the loom and wove
and wove until by the evening she had woven a beautiful silver cloth.
'Now,' said she to the fakir, 'go into the market-place and sell my
cloth whilst I rest.'
'And what am I to ask for it?' said the old man.
'Two gold pieces,' replied the princess.
So the fakir hobbled away, and stood in the market-place to sell the
cloth. Presently the elder princess drove by, and when she saw the
cloth she stopped and asked the price.
'Two gold pieces,' said the fakir. And the princess gladly paid them,
after which the old fakir hobbled home with the money. As she had
done before so Imani did again day after day. Always she spent a penny
upon oil and flax, always she tended the old man's lame limb, and spun
and wove the most beautiful cloths and sold them at high prices.
Gradually the city became famous for her beautiful stuffs, the old
fakir's lame leg became straighter and stronger, and the hole under
the floor of the hut where they kept their money became fuller and
fuller of gold pieces. At last, one day, the princess said:
[Illustration: IMANI ATTENDS TO THE CRIPPLED FAKIR]
'I really think we have got enough to live in greater comfort.' And
she sent for builders, and they built a beautiful house for her and
the old fakir, and in all the city there was none finer except the
king's palace. Presently this reached the ears of the king, and when
he inquired whose it was they told him that it belonged to his
daughter.
'Well,' exclaimed the king, 'she said that she would make her own
fortune, and somehow or other she seems to have done it!'
A little while after this, business took the king to another country,
and before he went he asked his elder daughter what she would like him
to bring her back as a gift.
'A necklace of rubies,' answered she. And then the king thought he
would like to ask Imani too; so he sent a messenger to find out what
sort of a present she wanted. The man happened to arrive just as she
was trying to disentangle a knot in her loom, and bowing low before
her, he said:
'The king sends me to inquire what you wish him to bring you as a
present from the country of Dur?' But Imani, who was only considering
how she could best untie the knot without breaking the thread,
replied:
'Patience!' meaning that the messenger should wait till she was able
to attend to him. But the messenger went off with this as an answer,
and told the king that the only thing the princess Imani wanted was
'patience.'
'Oh!' said the king, 'I don't know whether that's a thing to be bought
at Dur; I never had it myself, but if it is to be got I will buy it
for her.'
Next day the king departed on his journey, and when his business at
Dur was completed he bought for Kupti a beautiful ruby necklace. Then
he said to a servant:
'The princess Imani wants some patience. I did not know there was such
a thing, but you must go to the market and inquire, and if any is to
be sold, get it and bring it to me.'
The servant saluted and left the king's presence. He walked about the
market for some time crying: 'Has anyone patience to sell? patience to
sell?' And some of the people mocked, and some (who had no patience)
told him to go away and not be a fool; and some said: 'The fellow's
mad! As though one could buy or sell patience!'
At length it came to the ears of the king of Dur that there was a
madman in the market trying to buy patience. And the king laughed and
said:
'I should like to see that fellow, bring him here!'
And immediately his attendants went to seek the man, and brought him
to the king, who asked:
'What is this you want?'