"Who art thou that thus questionest me?"
Then the minister knew that it was Kali herself who wept; so he threw
himself on the ground, and, rising up, exclaimed:--
"O, my mother!--Kali!--Sambhavi!--Mahamayi! [67] Why should you thus
weep?" quoth Kali.
"What is the use of my revealing it to thee? Canst thou render any
assistance?"
The minister said that, if he had but her favour, there was nothing
he could not do. Then the goddess told him that a calamity was about
to come upon the king, and fearing that such a good monarch was soon
to disappear from the world, she wept.
The thought of such a misfortune caused the minister to tremble;
he fell down before the goddess, and with tears streaming from his
eyes besought her to save him. Kali was much gratified to observe
his devotion to his master, and thus addressed him:--
"Know, then, that your king will be in danger of three calamities
to-morrow, any one of which will be sufficient to cause his
death. First of all, early in the morning, there will come to the
palace several carts containing newly-reaped paddy grains. The king
will be delighted at this, and immediately order a measure of the
paddy to be shelled and cooked for his morning meal. Now, the field
in which that paddy grew is the abode of serpents, two of which
were fighting together one day, when they emitted poison, which has
permeated those grains. Therefore, the morning meal of your king will
contain poison, but only in the first handful will it take effect and
he will die. Should he escape, another calamity is in store for him
at noon. The king of Vijayanagara will send to-morrow some baskets of
sweetmeats; in the first basket he has concealed arrows. King Alakesa,
suspecting no treachery, will order the first basket to be opened in
his presence, and will meet his death by that device. And even should
he escape this second calamity, a third will put an end to his life
to-morrow night. A deadly serpent will descend into his bed room,
by means of the chain of his hanging bed, and bite him. But, should
he be saved from this last misfortune, Alakesa will live long and
prosperously, till he attains the age of a hundred and twenty years."
Thus spake Kali, in tones of sorrow, for she feared that the king
would lose his life by one of these three calamities. The Minister
prostrated himself on the ground, and said that if the goddess would
grant him her favour he was confident he could contrive to avert all
the threatened evils from the king. Kali smiled and disappeared;
and the Minister, taking her kind smile as a token of her favour,
returned home and slept soundly.
As soon as morning dawned, the First Minister arose, and having made
the customary ablutions, proceeded to the palace. He took care to
reveal to no one the important secret communicated to him by the
goddess--not even to his three colleagues. The sun was not yet two
ghatikas [68] above the horizon when several carts containing the
finest paddy grains, specially selected for the king's use, came
into the courtyard of the palace. Alakesa was present, and ordered
a measure of it to be at once shelled and cooked. The coming in of
the carts and the king's order so exactly coincided with Kali's words
that the Minister began to fear that he was quite unequal to the task
of averting the fatality; yet the recollection of the smile of the
goddess inspired him with fresh resolution, and he at once went to
the palace-kitchen and requested the servants to inform him when the
king was about to go to dinner. After issuing orders for the storing
of the grain, king Alakesa retired to perform his morning ablutions
and other religious duties.
Meanwhile a carriage containing the jars of sweetmeats sent by the
king of Vijayanagara drove up to the palace, and the emissary who
accompanied the present, told the royal servants that his master
had commanded him to deliver it to king Alakesa in person. The
First Minister well understood the meaning of this, and, promising
to bring the king, went into the palace, caused one of the servants
to be dressed like Alakesa, and conducted him to the carriage. The
officer of the Vijayanagara king placed the first jar before the
supposed Alakesa, who at once opened it, when lo! there darted forth
several arrows, one of which pierced his heart, and he fell dead on
the spot. [69] In an instant the emissary was seized and bound, and
the officers began to lament the death of their good king. But the
fatal occurrence spread rapidly through the palace, and soon the real
Alakesa made his appearance on the scene. The officers now beheld
one Alakesa dead and fallen to the ground, pierced by the arrow,
and another standing there alive and well. The First Minister then
related how, suspecting treachery, he brought out a servant of the
palace dressed like the king, and how he had been slain in place of his
royal master. Alakesa thanked the Minister for having so ingeniously
saved his life, and went into the palace. Thus was one of the three
calamities to the king averted by the faithful Bodhaditya.
When it was the hour for dinner, the king and his courtiers all sat
down, with the exception of the First Minister, who remained standing,
without having taken a leaf for his own use. The king, observing this,
with a smile pointed out a leaf to him, [70] but Bodhaditya would not
sit; he wished to be near the king and to abstain from eating on that
occasion. So the king allowed him to have his own way. The food having
been served on the leaves, the hands of all, including the king, were
mingling the rice, ghi, and dhal for the first course. Near the king
stood his faithful Minister Bodhaditya, and, when the king raised the
first handful to his mouth, "Stop, my master," cried he, "I have long
hoped for this handful as a present to me from your royal hands. I pray
you give it to me, and feast upon the rest of the rice on your leaf."
This was uttered more in a tone of command than of request, and the
king was highly incensed at what he naturally considered as insolence
on the part of the Minister. For such a request, especially when made
to a king, is deemed nothing less than an insult, while to refuse it
is equally offensive. So, whatever thoughts may have passed through
Alakesa's mind, recollecting how the Minister had that morning saved
his life, he gave him the handful of rice, which Bodhaditya received
with delight, feeling grateful for the favour of the goddess in being
the means of averting this second calamity.
Far different, however, were the sentiments of the king and the
assembled company. One and all declared Bodhaditya to be an insolent,
proud fellow; but the king, while secretly blaming himself for having
allowed him to use so much familiarity, suppressed his anger, in
consideration of the important service the Minister had rendered him.
On the approach of night the heart of the First Minister throbbed
violently, for the third calamity predicted by the goddess was yet
to be encountered. His watch being ended, before retiring to rest,
he went to examine the royal bedroom, where he saw the light burning
brightly, and the king and queen asleep side by side in the ornamented
swing cot, which was suspended from the roof by four chains. Presently,
he perceived, with horror, a fierce black snake, the smell of which
is enough to kill a man, slowly gliding down the chain near the head
of the queen. The Minister noiselessly went forward, and with a single
stroke of his sharp sword, cut the venomous brute in two. Bodhaditya,
to avoid disturbing any person at such an hour of the night, threw the
pieces over the canopy of the bed, rejoicing at having thus averted
the third and last calamity. But a fresh horror then met his eyes;
a drop of the snake's poison had fallen on the bosom of the queen,
which was exposed in the carelessness of slumber.
"Alas, sacred goddess," he muttered, "why do you thus raise up new
obstacles in my efforts to avert the evil which you predicted? I have
done what I could to save the king, and in this last attempt I have
killed his beloved queen. What shall I do?"
Having thus briefly reflected, he wiped off the poison from the queen's
bosom with the tip of his little finger, and, lest the contact of the
venom with his finger should endanger his own life, he cut the tip
of it off and threw it on the canopy. Just then the queen awoke, and
perceiving a man hastily leaving the room, she cried: "Who are you?"
The Minister respectfully answered: "Most venerable mother! I am your
son, Bodhaditya," and at once retired.
Upon this the queen thought within herself: "Alas! is there such
a thing as a good man in the world? Hitherto I have regarded this
Bodhaditya as my son; but now he has basely taken the opportunity
of thus disgracing me when my lord and I were sound asleep. I shall
inform the king of this, and have that wretch's head struck off before
the morning."
Accordingly she gently awakened the king, and with tears trickling
down her beauteous face, she told him what had occurred, and concluded
with these words:--"Till now, my lord, I considered that I was wife to
you alone; but this night your First Minister has made me doubt it,
since to my question, 'Who are you?' he answered, without any shame,
'I am Bodhaditya,' and went away."
On hearing of this violation of the sanctity of his bedchamber,
Alakesa was greatly enraged, and determined to put to death such
an unprincipled servant, but first to communicate the affair to his
three other Ministers.