Many, many years ago, there dwelt in a far country a Khan who was great
and good and dearly loved by his people. Yet no one in all his kingdom
loved or admired him so much as did his faithful wife and young son.
Truly there never was a happier, more affectionate family. The three
shared their joys and sorrows, their cares, their pleasures and their
secrets, and indeed one was scarcely ever seen without the other two.
Now the Khan and his family and the whole kingdom had in common one
great sorrow; the country was watered by a clear, broad stream, and
unless this flowed, full and strong, all the year, the land dried up,
there was a great famine, and the people died of hunger and thirst. At
the source of this river lived two serpent-gods, hideous monsters, and
as evil as they were ugly, and every year these frightful creatures
demanded a young man or maiden whom they might devour. Unless this
desire was speedily fulfilled, they stopped the water at the head of
the stream, it dried up and the people began to suffer and then die.
Many and many a time had the Khan and his counselors talked of the
matter the whole night through, scheming, planning, wondering how they
might save the young people of the land from this dreadful fate, but
all to no avail. If the serpents did not get their yearly gift of
precious human blood, the death of hundreds of men, women and children
was the result. And so it seemed better for one young man or maid to
die each year than that so many should perish.
The time had now come for this terrible sacrifice, and throughout the
length and breadth of the land there was sorrow and anxiety. Fathers
and mothers could scarce sleep for thinking that it might be the turn
of their son or daughter to go to the head of the river and be cast
into the cave of the monster serpents. Nowhere was there more
unhappiness than in the family of the Khan, for he grieved for each lad
or lass as if each were his own child. Seeing the care and sorrow in
his father’s face, the Khan’s son, whose name, by the way, was Schalu,
thought long and earnestly.
“Surely,” he kept repeating to himself, “there must be some way in
which I can help my father and free my country from this great curse!”
But no matter how hard he thought, no way presented itself to his mind.
The fateful time drew ever nearer, and finally the very next day was
the dreaded one on which the serpent-gods would send a messenger,
demanding by name some girl or boy in the kingdom.
That night Schalu could not sleep for thinking of the tragedy of the
morrow. “Suppose I were the one,” he thought. “Of course they would not
really dare to ask for the Khan’s son—but just suppose—” and then he
pictured to himself the sorrow of his father and mother and his own
horror at such a death. “And we are no different, really, from the
others,” he said to himself. “The fathers and mothers among our
subjects must suffer as keenly as their king and queen would, and as
for the boys and girls—they are really just like me.” All at once
Schalu sat up in bed and stared into the darkness; a great idea had
entered his mind.
“I will go to these terrible serpent monsters myself!” he breathed
excitedly. “I will offer myself to them—I, a Khan’s son—if they will
give up their frightful practice hereafter!” There was little sleep for
Schalu after he had made up his mind to this deed; all night long he
lay wide awake, planning how he would plead and argue with the serpents
for the lives of his people, and getting up his courage to meet his
fate and die bravely, as befitted a prince.
Very early in the morning, before the sun was up, he arose, dressed
himself and slipped quietly from the palace. He had not gone far before
he was startled by hearing a step behind him, and turning around he saw
Saran, a faithful friend, following him. Now Saran was a boy of his own
age who had been brought up at the palace with him, as his servant and
companion, and he and the Prince loved each other as brothers.
“O my master and friend!” said Saran, running up to Schalu. “Forgive me
for having followed you! I have seen your trouble and anxiety these
many days, and when you started forth alone this morning, my heart
misgave me that some ill might befall you.”
At first the Prince was much annoyed that he should have been
discovered, but as he looked at Saran, he suddenly felt relieved to
have a friend near, and he opened his heart and told all his plan of
self-sacrifice. He feared Saran would entreat him to give it up and go
home, but his friend listened in silence to the end and then said:
“Schalu, your heart is noble, as a prince’s should be! I cannot urge
you to give up a deed so truly glorious. Only I beg you—and I will not
be denied—let me go with you and sacrifice myself also, for life
without you would be worse than death, and mayhap if two of us give our
lives, the serpents will be the more willing to leave our people in
peace hereafter.”
The Prince tried to dissuade his friend but, seeing it was of no use,
he soon stopped, and the two lads continued on their way together
toward the head of the stream.
As they approached the cave where the serpents dwelt, they went slowly
and softly, for they were minded, if possible, to get a good look at
the monsters before they allowed themselves to be seen. Creeping up
among the bushes by the side of the river they soon came to an opening
through which they could peer, and there, seated on the bank, they saw
the two horrible creatures. One was a long, thick, dragon-like being
covered with scales of tarnished gold; the other was smaller and
apparently younger, and the scales on its back were as green as
emeralds. They had neither seen nor heard the two lads, and in a moment
the golden one began to speak.
“It is strange, Brother,” said he, “that these people are so ignorant
and so faithful.”
“They cannot very well help themselves, can they?” said the smaller,
green one. “They know that if they fail in this sacrifice, we will dry
up their stream, and then they will all perish.”
“True,” replied the other, “but after all, it would be so easy to kill
us, you know, if they only knew how.”
“But have they not sent armed soldiers against us in times past?” said
the green serpent, drawing himself up proudly; “and have we not routed
them all and slain them?”
“Of course swords could not hurt us,” said the golden one
contemptuously, “but if they only knew enough to come out against us
with thick, oak staves! One well-aimed blow on the head from such a
weapon would finish us. But, luckily, they don’t know that!”
“And are far too stupid ever to guess it, so we are perfectly safe,”
added the green one.
“And then,” chuckled the big golden monster, writhing the folds of his
long body comfortably about him. “To think what a man would gain by
killing us! My head, cooked and eaten, would not only make a delicious
meal, but it would give the eater power to pour forth gold from his
mouth whenever he wanted to!”
“And if any one ate my head,” said the green one, also chuckling,
“emeralds would come from his mouth whenever he so desired. Lucky the
stupid mortals will never know!”
Schalu and his friend had heard enough. Trembling with excitement, they
crept away from their hiding place, out of sound and sight of the
serpents, and then fell to hugging each other for very joy of their
discovery. They lost no time in making for themselves huge oak staves,
and armed with these, they walked back to where the serpents still sat
lazily talking together on the bank of the stream. With a shout, they
leaped from the bushes upon the unsuspecting monsters and attacked
them. The fight was short and sharp. The great creatures turned upon
the two boys viciously and lunged at them with their hard, metallic
heads, but the lads dodged skilfully and brought down blow after blow
upon their enemies until at last they lay motionless and quite dead.
“Now,” said Prince Schalu, leaning on his staff and breathing hard, “we
must build a fire and cook ourselves a meal, and if the serpent-gods
spoke the truth, we shall then be rich for the rest of our lives.”
With their knives they cut off the heads of their dreaded enemies and,
having built a fire of twigs, they cooked them well and then ate them.
Schalu ate the golden head and declared it delicious, while Saran said
that he had never tasted anything quite so good as the emerald-green
head.
“Let us see,” said the Prince, when they had finished, “how well the
charm works. I wish that my mouth would pour forth gold!” Scarcely had
he finished speaking before a rain of bright gold coins fell from his
lips, and the boys gathered them up in big handfuls and stowed them
away in their pockets.
“Now let me try!” said Saran. “I wish that my mouth would pour forth
emeralds!” Immediately emeralds pattered to the ground in great
profusion.
“What fun!” said Saran, gathering them up. “Now let us hasten back to
the palace and show your royal father all that we have accomplished!”
“No, don’t let us go home yet,” said the Prince. “One adventure is but
a stepping-stone to another, and I am minded to travel a bit and see
what fortune we may meet by the way. With this marvellous gift of gold
and emeralds, we should surely come by some strange and interesting
experiences.”
To this plan Saran readily agreed; the two set forth with merry hearts
and, finding an unfamiliar road, followed it, they knew not whither.
All day long they traveled, meeting many wayfarers, but finding nothing
in the shape of an adventure. In the late afternoon they reached a palm
grove whence came shouts and cries and signs of great commotion.
Hurrying toward the scene of disturbance, they beheld half a dozen
lusty boys fighting most brutally.
“Here, young fellows!” cried the Prince, “stop that at once and tell us
what you are fighting about!” But the boys paid no heed to him at all.
“Stop!” cried Schalu again, shouting to make himself heard above the
din. “Stop, and I will show you a marvel the like of which you have
never seen!”
Hearing this, the boys ceased fighting on the instant, and all turned
and stared at Schalu and Saran.
“Marvel, did you say?” exclaimed the leader scornfully. “You can’t show
us a marvel greater than the one we have got right here!”
“Have you something wonderful, too?” asked the Prince. “Well, then, let
us make a bargain; if my marvel is greater than yours, you shall give
me yours, and if yours is greater than mine, I will give you each as
much gold as two hands can carry.”
“Hurrah!” cried the boys, delighted. “Let us do it!” They all gathered
around in a circle, while their leader picked up from the ground a torn
and battered cap. “This,” said he, “is what we were fighting about, for
each of us wants it for himself. This is a magic cap, and whoever puts
it on remains invisible until he takes it off again. Show us a marvel
equal to that, if you can!”
Softly uttering a wish for gold, the Prince opened his mouth and
immediately a great rain of coins tumbled to the ground. The boys fell
upon them greedily, shouting, snatching and fighting.
“Come,” said Schalu to his friend, “these boys are not worthy of owning
such a treasure as the cap, and besides, my marvel is greater than
theirs, so I am entitled to it.”
He caught up the ragged cap, put it on his head and grasped Saran’s
hand. Straightway they both became invisible, and so passed through the
midst of the fighting boys unnoticed and continued on their way.
“This is a prize well worth having!” said the Prince, after they had
walked awhile and, taking the cap off, he hid it carefully in his
bosom. “Now I wonder what our next adventure will be.”
They had not gone far before they came to a cross-roads where there was
a great cloud of dust and, hearing shouts and angry words, they
hastened to see what it all meant. In the midst of the dust were half a
dozen ugly dwarfs, fighting furiously, screaming and cursing each
other.
“You try your hand at this!” said Schalu to his friend. “This shall be
your adventure.” So Saran stamped upon the ground and called out
“Stop!” in a loud voice, but the dwarfs paid no attention to him at
all. “Stop, I say!” he repeated louder than before. “I have a great
marvel to show you!” At the word “marvel” the fighters ceased at once
and stood staring at the two friends.
“Marvel, did you say?” exclaimed the leader. “Pooh! I don’t care how
wonderful it is, it can’t be as great as ours!”
“What is yours?” said Saran. “If it is as interesting as mine, you
shall each have as many emeralds as your two hands can carry.” At that
all the dwarfs began to laugh scornfully.
“Show him! Show him!” they cried to their leader, “and then we will rob
him of all his emeralds if, in truth, he has any.”
The leader turned and picked up a pair of old, shabby-looking boots.
“These,” he said, “are magic, and if anybody puts even one of them on
and makes a wish to be in any place under the sun, he will find himself
there in the twinkling of an eye.”
“That is indeed wonderful!” said Saran, “and here is your pay, but, in
sooth, you deserve neither boots nor emeralds!” Then, to the great
astonishment of the little men, Saran, uttering a wish for emeralds,
opened his mouth and poured them forth, a great stream of glorious
green gems. With a shout the dwarfs snatched them up, pushing and
tearing them from each other.
“Quick!” said Saran to the Prince. “Put on your cap and take my hand,
so that they will not see us! We can make better use of the magic boots
than these wicked dwarfs can.” So they each hastily slipped on a boot
and, being invisible because of the magic cap, passed out from among
the dwarfs before they had stopped fighting over the jewels.
“And now,” said Saran, “while we have on the boots, let us test their
power by wishing to be somewhere.”
“Very well,” said Schalu, “I wish that we may be taken at once to a
country that needs a king!”
Immediately the two friends felt themselves picked up and whizzed
through the air with such speed that they could see nothing and feel
nothing but the wind rushing by their ears. Then they were put down
gently upon the ground and found themselves in a strange country.
Soon they saw a great procession of men, women and children advancing
toward them, and at their head walked an old man with snowy beard and
hair and clad in long white garments. The people came straight up to
the Prince and Saran, and there halted, while the old man addressed
them in eager, trembling tones.
“You are strangers,” said he, “and we are seeking strangers; I pray
you, can you show us some magic sign whereby we may know that you are
not as other mortals are?”
“Indeed,” said Prince Schalu, “we are no different from other men, but
by great good fortune we have this day become possessed of several
wonders.”
“Show us! Show us!” cried the crowd in great excitement.
“This,” continued Schalu, drawing the battered magic cap from his
pocket, “has the power of making its wearer invisible.” He put it on,
and the people cried out in wonder and anxiety, “Where are they? Where
are they? They are gone! Find them! They are truly the ones!”
“No, we are still here,” said the Prince, removing the cap. “But why
does it matter so much to you? And why are you so anxious to see our
marvels?”
“Show us more! Show us more!” the crowd shouted, and the old man in
white tried vainly to quiet them, for he was as much excited as they.
“These boots,” Schalu went on, pointing to the magic ones, “are also
very wonderful, for they will bear us wheresoever we wish to be in the
twinkling of an eye. It was by their means that we came here.”
“Don’t try them! We’ll believe you!” cried somebody, as if fearful of
losing them, and the crowd surged eagerly forward again.
“And finally,” said Schalu, smiling at them and thoroughly enjoying
their wonder, “my friend and I have a little trick which may interest
you.” Opening their mouths, the two began to pour forth gold and
emeralds and toss them in great handfuls among the crowd.
If they were excited before, the people now went mad with surprise and
joy, and while they were grasping at the precious things, the old,
white-haired man approached Schalu and said:
“O marvellous stranger, know that I am a magician, and by my art I
learned that this land which has been without a king for many a long
day would find a just, wise and righteous ruler in a wonder-working
stranger whom we should meet traveling along this road to-day. Accept,
then, our kingdom; come and rule over our people, and we will honor you
as our Khan and your companion as Grand Vizier to the end of our days!”
The crowd had by this time grown silent, listening, and at the end of
the speech they set up a shout that echoed to the very clouds. Seizing
Schalu and Saran in their arms, they bore them with laughter and
singing to the palace, where Schalu was crowned with all pomp and
ceremony, and Saran was made his chief adviser. And so the two friends
lived worthily and happily till the end of their days.
The tale being finished, the Siddhi-kur was silent.
“But what of the poor father and mother?” exclaimed the Prince
impatiently. “Surely Schalu was a faithless son if he left his parents
to die of grief for him!”
“Dear me, no! He didn’t do that!” said the Siddhi-kur, smiling. “He was
no sooner made king than he journeyed back to visit his royal father
and mother, and I leave you to imagine their joy and the happiness of
the whole land when it became known that the prince and his faithful
friend had not only returned in safety, but had delivered them from the
curse of the serpent-gods and had won, besides, such glory and riches.
“But I fear me!” continued the Siddhi-kur, playfully poking the Khan’s
son in the ribs, “that you will never attain glory and riches, unless
you remember the words of Nagarguna and keep silent on your homeward
way! Farewell—I am off to my mango tree, and it is good indeed to be
free again!”
The Prince could scarcely keep back his tears of anger and vexation as
he watched the Siddhi-kur skipping gayly off to the north.
“I will fetch you yet!” he cried, but the magic creature only turned
and smiled at him indulgently.
“I would give it up, if I were you,” said he; “but if you really are
determined to get me again, I’ve a nice story to tell you on the way
back,—‘The Strange Adventure of Schalu’s Wife.’” With that he ran on
and disappeared in the distance.