Long years ago there lived in the Far East a Prince and his Brother,
sons of the Great Khan. The Prince was a wise and clever youth, but his
Brother was stupid and ignorant beyond belief. The Khan tried in vain
to have this lazy fellow educated and finally, when all else had
failed, sent him to school to seven learned magicians who lived in a
cave on the outskirts of his realm. There was nothing in the way of
magic, either white or black, good or evil, which these seven wise men
did not know, but because they had wicked, cruel hearts, they left the
good alone and practised their art only for selfish and evil purposes.
They took the stupid Brother because the Khan bade them do so, and they
promised to teach him all the art of magic, but inwardly they resolved
that he should learn none of it and merely be their tool and helper.
And so it was. For seven years the stupid Brother worked with the
magicians, and in all that time he learned not one thing, so that at
the end he knew no more than at the beginning. His brother, the Prince,
thinking that all might not be well, went one day to the cave and stood
all day long at the door, watching his Brother and the seven wise men
at work. And so very quick and clever he was that at the end of the day
he had mastered no small bit of the art of magic himself. Seeing,
however, how things stood with his Brother, and that it was useless for
him to remain longer, he bade him come away, and the two straightway
set off together toward their home.
The mind of the Prince was full of the wonderful secrets of magic which
he had just learned, and he was eager to try his power and skill at the
game; so at length, as they neared the palace,—“Brother,” said he, “go
you to the old stable behind the hill, and there you will find a
splendid steed as white as milk. I pray you, lead him gently to market,
sell him, and bring the money to me, but remember this: on no account
let him take you near the cave of the seven magicians!”
“Willingly,” said the stupid Brother, and off he set for the stable. He
was too slow and dull to be really surprised at seeing a fine white
horse standing unhitched in an open stall where there had been no
horses before; he only thought what a great pity it would be to sell
the animal as the Prince had bidden him. Far better would he like to
keep it for himself. At any rate, he would take a ride first and
perhaps go to the cave and show his new possession to his friends, the
wise men. Scarcely had he formed this thought in his mind and leaped
upon the steed’s back, when the animal dashed off, swift as the wind,
down the road which led to the cave of the wizards. Too late did the
stupid Brother remember the Prince’s warning to avoid that place of all
others; he could not turn the horse to right or left, or slacken his
speed until at length he stopped of his own accord right in front of
the door of the cave. The lad got down and tried to turn the horse’s
head and lead him home; he coaxed and scolded and even beat and kicked
the poor beast, but all to no avail. Then, looking up, he spied the
seven magicians standing in a row and smiling at him.
“It is useless,” said one, “you will never get that horse beyond our
gate, so you might as well sell him to us.”
“Very well,” said the stupid Brother sulkily, giving a final kick. “How
much will you give me for him?”
Now the magicians knew that this was no ordinary horse, but in reality
the Prince, who had changed himself thus in order to test his skill in
magic.
By their charms and spells they had drawn him straight to their cave,
for they were not at all pleased to find he had learned the secret of
their magic, and now they were minded to destroy him if they could. So
they bargained with the stupid Brother for the horse, paid him a good
price and sent him away, never dreaming that he was in reality leaving
the Prince behind him.
“Alas!” thought the poor Prince, “now is my last hour come! By all the
hidden powers of magic, I wish that some living creature would come by
into which I could transform myself and so escape!”
Before the cave of the magicians flowed a brook, and the Prince had no
sooner formed this wish in his heart than a tiny fish came swimming by.
Quick as a flash, the great white steed disappeared, for the Prince had
changed himself into the little minnow and was swimming rapidly away.
The magicians saw their prey disappearing and immediately transformed
themselves into seven larger fish and gave chase. In and out among the
shallows and deep pools they flashed, the little fish and the seven
great ones after it, on and on, and ever the great fish gained upon the
little one, until the foremost of the seven could almost seize it in
his mouth.
“Alack-a-day!” sighed the Prince, “now indeed is my last hour come! By
all the power of magic spells, I wish that some living creature would
come by into which I could transform myself and so escape!”
He had scarcely uttered this wish to himself when a white bird flew low
over the brook, and in a flash the minnow was gone, and the Prince was
flying swiftly over the fields in the form of a white dove. But he was
none too quick, for the seven magicians had become seven great hawks
and were circling over him. The Prince sped on like the wind over hills
and valleys, on and on until at length, quite out of breath and spent,
he came to a tall shining mountain. In the heart of this mountain was a
cave wherein dwelt a hermit, a wise and good man, whose name was
Nagarguna. To this refuge the Prince now sped, and the hawks were
almost upon him when he flew against the rough wooden door of the cave
and beat his wings wildly upon it. Nagarguna opened it, the dove flew
in and fell exhausted upon the floor.
“What is the matter, little creature?” said the hermit, picking up the
white bird and holding him gently in his hands.
“I am pursued!” gasped the Prince, “my life is in great danger. I pray
you, good master, hear me, and do what I bid you, that my life may be
saved!” He paused to take a breath, and in that moment there came a
knocking at the door of the cave which had swung to after the Prince
had entered.
“Even now,” continued the Prince, “there stand seven men without,
clothed in white. Before you open the door to them, let me change
myself into the largest bead in that chaplet which you wear around your
neck. When they come in, they will ask you for it. Give them the beads,
but before you do so, break the string on which they are strung so that
they will fall to the ground. If you do this, I can do the rest by my
power of magic.”
Meanwhile the knocking upon the door grew louder and louder, and so,
hastily promising to do as the Prince had said, Nagarguna opened it.
Without stood seven men with white hair and long white cotton robes.
Very old and wise they looked, but their eyes were wicked.
“What would you, sirs?” said Nagarguna. They stepped into the cave and,
looking sharply around, spied the chaplet of beads about the hermit’s
neck. The white dove, of course, had vanished by this time.
“I pray you,” said the foremost of the seven men, “let us have the
chaplet that hangs about your neck. We have long heard the fame of you,
have come from afar to see you, and would greatly like to carry away a
token from you.”
“Gladly will I give it to you,” said the hermit, but in slipping the
chaplet from his neck he managed to break the string, and the beads
went clattering to the floor, all but the largest one, which still
clung to the string. And all the little beads became worms and wriggled
upon the ground, and the seven magicians changed themselves into seven
large fowls and began pecking at the worms until they were all eaten
up. Then, at length, the largest bead fell, and scarcely had it touched
the earth before it became a youth, the Prince himself, who stood
straight, tall and fair, with a staff in his hands. With this he slew
the seven fowls quickly, one by one, and cast them out of the cave,
where they became the dead bodies of the seven wicked magicians. Then
he turned back, weary and exhausted, into the cave, but Nagarguna
looked upon him coldly and with displeasure.
“You have done evil, my son,” said he, “for you have taken life, even
the lives of seven men; and it will not easily be forgiven you.”
The Prince bowed his head humbly before Nagarguna. “Truly,” said he, “I
did not wish the death of these men, but they wickedly sought my life.
Only to defend myself from a like fate did I lift my hand to slay
another.”
“Even so,” replied Nagarguna, “and well I know your heart is not evil,
and that only because you knew of no better way to defend yourself did
you resort to barbarous killing. But by knowledge, my son, are all good
things accomplished, all wrong ones avoided. Had your knowledge been
perfect, you would not have found it necessary to take the life of any
living creature, even in self-defense.”
“Then, Father,” said the Prince, “let me stay with you and learn true
wisdom. I am sorry for this wrong, done in ignorance, and any task, no
matter how hard, which you want me to perform, I will do faithfully to
show my true repentance.”
“Well said!” And Nagarguna smiled upon the Prince. “If you keep this
spirit of humility within you, when the time has come for you to rule
this land, you will be a wise and good king, and your people will be
happy and prosperous beneath your sway. Come, now, I will tell you a
task worthy a brave man’s strength and skill, and when you shall have
accomplished it, you shall dwell with me and learn wisdom until it is
time for you to be king over your people.”
The Prince and the hermit forthwith sat down side by side upon the
rough floor of the cave (for it was quite bare of furnishings) and
Nagarguna told of the great work which the Prince was to do.
“There is,” said he, “in a very far country a creature called the
Siddhi-kur. Very strange he is, being gold from his waist up, emerald
from his waist down, with a head that looks like mother-of-pearl and a
shining crown upon it. The Siddhi-kur is a creature of magic—good
magic—and the land wherein he is shall be blessed with knowledge,
wealth and long life. Now, if you can capture the Siddhi-kur and bring
him to me, we will place him in a cool grove here upon this shining
mountain, and then our people in the valley, your people and my people,
will be mightily blessed above all others. They shall have gold in
abundance, and what is far better, they shall have a great store of
wisdom and knowledge, and long life in which to use it.”
“That is indeed a noble task,” said the Prince, “and with great joy
will I undertake it. Only tell me how I may reach the Siddhi-kur and
how he may be captured.”
“Mark well my words,” replied the hermit, “and I will tell you all.”
For an hour or more they talked, and Nagarguna told the Prince how he
should go to find the Siddhi-kur, of all the dangers he would meet by
the way and how he should overcome them. And the Prince plied him with
many questions and put away carefully in his mind all the directions
and warnings that were given him. At length the master arose and, going
into a dark recess of the cave, brought forth an axe, a sack, a cord
and a basket. These he spread out before the Prince.
“In this basket,” said he, handing it to the lad, “are the magic barley
corns which you will use as I have directed you, and also a cake which
grows not less, no matter how much you eat of it. The cake will keep
you from hunger as the barley corns will keep you from fear.” Then,
picking up the axe, the sack and the cord, he continued, “When at
length you have found the Siddhi-kur, do not fail to tell him that this
is the magic axe ‘White Moon,’ that this sack is the marvellous sack of
many colors, in which, though it appears so small, there is space to
stow away a hundred creatures, and that, finally, this is the cord of a
hundred threads, each one different in hue, and each strong enough to
bind and hold the mightiest ox. When you have shown him all these
things, he will yield himself quietly to you. Arise then, my son, and
start upon your way, and peace and good fortune attend you!”
The Prince arose, his heart high with courage, and slinging the sack,
cord and axe over his shoulder, the basket on his arm, he turned to bid
Nagarguna farewell.
“One thing more,” said the hermit, “and this is more important than all
else that I have told you. When once you have got the Siddhi-kur upon
your back and are returning to me, remember, open not your lips nor say
one word for any cause whatever until you have reached the door of my
cave and have given the Siddhi-kur into my keeping!”
Promising to remember this above all else, the Prince bade good-by to
Nagarguna, receiving his blessing again, and set forth with a quick
step and a light heart upon his great adventure.