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JEWISH FAIRY TALES AND LEGENDS
[Illustration: "Where is the door?" (Page 21)]
JEWISH FAIRY TALES AND LEGENDS
by
"Aunt Naomi"
(GERTRUDE LANDA)
When Childhood's toys have passed away,
May Books become another play.
Then may each book a blessing give
And bring you pleasure while you live.
--_Ruth Landa._
Sixteenth Thousand
New York
Bloch Publishing Co., Inc.
"_The Jewish Book Concern_"
1943
Copyright, 1919,
Bloch Publishing Company.
PREFACE
The very cordial welcome given to my earlier volume of "Jewish Fairy
Tales and Fables" has prompted me to draw further upon Rabbinic lore
in the interest, chiefly, of the children. How the wise Rabbis of old
took into account the necessities of the little ones, whose minds they
understood so perfectly, is obvious from such legends as those dealing
with boyish exploits of the great Biblical characters, Abraham, Moses,
and David. These I have rewritten from the stories in the Talmud and
Midrash in a manner suitable for the children of to-day.
I have ventured also beyond the confines of these two wonderful
compilations. There is a wealth of delightful imagination in the
legends and folk-lore of the Jews of a later period which is almost
entirely unknown to children. I have drawn also on these sources for
some of the stories here presented. My desire is to give boys and
girls something Jewish which they may be able to regard as companion
delights to the treasury of general fairy-lore and childish romance.
AUNT NAOMI.
LONDON, _March, 1919_.
CONTENTS
THE PALACE OF THE EAGLES 15
THE GIANT OF THE FLOOD 27
THE FAIRY PRINCESS OF ERGETZ 35
THE HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY PALACE 67
THE RED SLIPPER 77
THE STAR CHILD 87
ABI FRESSAH'S FEAST 99
THE BEGGAR KING 113
THE QUARREL OF THE CAT AND DOG 119
THE WATER-BABE 127
SINBAD OF THE TALMUD 133
THE OUTCAST PRINCE 151
THE STORY OF BOSTANAI 163
FROM SHEPHERD-BOY TO KING 173
THE MAGIC PALACE 179
THE SLEEP OF ONE HUNDRED YEARS 187
KING FOR THREE DAYS 195
THE PALACE IN THE CLOUDS 203
THE POPE'S GAME OF CHESS 213
THE SLAVE'S FORTUNE 225
THE PARADISE IN THE SEA 235
THE RABBI'S BOGEY-MAN 243
THE FAIRY FROG 251
THE PRINCESS OF THE TOWER 259
KING ALEXANDER'S ADVENTURES 277
a. THE VISION OF VICTORY 277
b. THE LAND OF DARKNESS 282
c. THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD 288
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"Where is the door?" _Frontispiece_
Og, riding gaily on the unicorn behind the Ark, was quite happy 26
A strange crowd of demons of all shapes and sizes poured into
the synagogue with threatening gestures 36
He could not see what Sarah saw--a figure, a spirit, clutching
a big stick 68
"The big fellow here got angry, beat the others and smashed
them to bits" 88
He sprang from his stool, spluttering and cursing 100
He found a beautiful youth, clad in a deer skin, lying on the
ground 112
With a cry, he put his fingers in his mouth to ease the pain
and burned his tongue 126
They saw the land rise up like a huge mountain and a tremendous
stream of water gush forth 134
He looked up and beheld the most beautiful woman his eyes had
ever seen 150
As the Shah raised his sword an old man stepped from behind the
tree 162
Behind him a fierce roar indicated that the lion was in pursuit 172
The gates opened from within and the Arab stood before them 178
The sun was shining on a noble city of pinnacles and minarets 188
He heard a cry of alarm and saw a huge stone fall on the
soldier riding behind him 194
The four youths mounted the eagles which flew aloft to the
extremity of their cords 202
"Thou canst only be my long lost son Elkanan!" 214
He crouched on his throne and imagined he saw angels and demons
and fairies 234
The monster was battering down the door of the synagogue 244
Hanina and his wife followed the giant frog 252
The giant bird did not seem to notice its burden at all 258
Then the door slowly opened and a figure in white stood in the
entry 276
JEWISH FAIRY TALES AND LEGENDS
The Palace of the Eagles
East of the Land of the Rising Sun there dwelled a king who spent all
his days and half his nights in pleasure. His kingdom was on the edge
of the world, according to the knowledge of those times, and almost
entirely surrounded by the sea. Nobody seemed to care what lay beyond
the barrier of rocks that shut off the land from the rest of the
world. For the matter of that, nobody appeared to trouble much about
anything in that kingdom.
Most of the people followed the example of the king and led idle,
careless lives, giving no thought to the future. The king regarded the
task of governing his subjects as a big nuisance; he did not care to
be worried with proposals concerning the welfare of the masses, and
documents brought to him by his advisors for signature were never
read. For aught he knew they may have referred to the school
regulations of the moon, instead of the laws of trading and such like
public matters.
"Don't bother me," was his usual remark. "You are my advisors and
officers of state. Deal with affairs as you think best."
And off he would go to his beloved hunting which was his favorite
pastime.
The land was fertile, and nobody had ever entertained an idea that bad
weather might some year affect the crops and cause a scarcity of
grain. They took no precautions to lay in stocks of wheat, and so when
one summer there was a great lack of rain and the fields were parched,
the winter that followed was marked by suffering. The kingdom was
faced by famine, and the people did not like it. They did not know
what to do, and when they appealed to the king, he could not help
them. Indeed, he could not understand the difficulty. He passed it off
very lightly.
"I am a mighty hunter," he said. "I can always kill enough beasts to
provide a sufficiency of food."
But the drought had withered away the grass and the trees, and the
shortage of such food had greatly reduced the number of animals. The
king found the forests empty of deer and birds. Still he failed to
realize the gravity of the situation and what he considered an
exceedingly bright idea struck him.
"I will explore the unknown territory beyond the barrier of rocky
hills," he said. "Surely there will I find a land of plenty. And, at
least" he added, "it will be a pleasant adventure with good hunting."
A great expedition was therefore arranged, and the king and his
hunting companions set forth to find a path over the rocks. This was
not at all difficult, and on the third day, a pass was discovered
among the crags and peaks that formed the summit of the barrier, and
the king saw the region beyond.
It seemed a vast and beautiful land, stretching away as far as the eye
could see in a forest of huge trees. Carefully, the hunters descended
the other side of the rock barrier and entered the unknown land.
It seemed uninhabited. Nor was there any sign of beast or bird of any
kind. No sound disturbed the stillness of the forest, no tracks were
visible. As well as the hunters could make out, no foot had ever
trodden the region before. Even nature seemed at rest. The trees were
all old, their trunks gnarled into fantastic shapes, their leaves
yellow and sere as if growth had stopped ages ago.
Altogether the march through the forest was rather eerie, and the
hunters proceeded in single file, which added to the impressiveness of
the strange experience. The novelty, however, made it pleasant to the
king, and he kept on his way for four days.
Then the forest ended abruptly, and the explorers came to a vast open
plain, a desert, through which a wide river flowed. Far beyond rose a
mountain capped by rocks of regular shape. At any rate, they appeared
to be rocks, but the distance was too great to enable anyone to speak
with certainty.
"Water," said the vizier, "is a sign of life."
So the king decided to continue as far as the mountain. A ford was
discovered in the river, and once on the other side it was possible to
make out the rocks crowning the mountain. They looked too regular to
be mere rocks, and on approaching nearer the king was sure that a huge
building must be at the top of the mountain. When they arrived quite
close, there was no doubt about it. Either a town, or a palace, stood
on the summit, and it was decided to make the ascent next day.
During the night no sound was heard, but to everybody's surprise a
distinct path up the mountain was noticed in the morning. It was so
overgrown with weeds and moss and straggling creepers that it was
obvious it had not been used for a long time. The ascent was
accordingly difficult, but half way up the first sign of life, noticed
since the expedition began, made itself visible.
It was an eagle. Suddenly it flew down from the mountain top and
circled above the hunters, screaming, but making no attempt to attack.
At length the summit was gained. It was a flat plateau of great
expanse, almost the whole of which was covered by an enormous building
of massive walls and stupendous towers.
"This is the palace of a great monarch," said the king.
But no entrance of any kind could be seen. The rest of the day was
spent in wandering round, but nowhere was a door, or window, or
opening visible. It was decided to make a more serious effort next
morning to gain entry.
However, it seemed a greater puzzle than ever. At length, one of the
most venturesome of the party discovered an eagle's nest on one of the
smallest towers, and with great difficulty he secured the bird and
brought it down to the king. His majesty bade one of his wise men,
Muflog, learned in bird languages, to speak to it. He did so.
In a harsh croaking voice, the eagle replied, "I am but a young bird,
only seven centuries old. I know naught. On a tower higher than that
on which I dwell, is the eyrie of my father. He may be able to give
you information."
More he would not say. The only thing to do was to climb the higher
tower and question the father eagle. This was done, and the bird
answered:
"On a tower still higher dwells my father, and on yet a higher tower
my grandfather, who is two thousand years old. He may know something.
I know nothing."
After considerable difficulty the topmost tower was reached and the
venerable bird discovered. He seemed asleep and was only awakened
after much coaxing. Then he surveyed the hunters warily.
"Let me see, let me think," he muttered slowly. "I did hear, when I
was a tiny eagle chick, but a few years old--that was long, long
ago--that my great-grandfather had said that his great-grandfather had
told him he had heard that long, long, long ago--oh, ever so much
longer than that--a king lived in this palace; that he died and left
it to the eagles; and that in the course of many, many, many thousands
of years the door had been covered up by the dust brought by the
winds."
"Where is the door?" asked Muflog.
That was a puzzle the ancient bird could not answer readily. He
thought and thought and fell asleep and had to be kept being awakened
until at last he remembered.
"When the sun shines in the morning," he croaked, "its first ray falls
on the door."
Then, worn out with all his thinking and talking, he fell asleep
again.
There was no rest for the party that night. They all watched to make
certain of seeing the first ray of the rising sun strike the palace.
When it did so, the spot was carefully noted. But no door could be
seen. Digging was therefore begun and after many hours, an opening was
found.
Through this an entrance was effected into the palace. What a
wonderful and mysterious place it was, all overgrown with the weeds of
centuries! Tangled masses of creepers lay everywhere--over what were
once trimly kept pathways, and almost completely hiding the lower
buildings. In the crevices of the walls, roots had insinuated
themselves, and by their growth had forced the stones apart. It was
all a terrible scene of desolation. The king's men had to hack a way
laboriously through the wilderness of weeds with their swords to the
central building, and when they did so they came to a door on which
was an inscription cut deep into the wood. The language was unknown to
all but Muflog, who deciphered it as follows:
"We, the Dwellers in this Palace, lived for many years in
Comfort and Luxury. Then Hunger came. We had made no
preparation. We had amassed jewels in abundance but not Corn. We
ground Pearls and Rubies to fine flour, but could make no Bread.
Wherefore we die, bequeathing this Palace to the eagles who will
devour our bodies and build their eyries on our towers."
A dread silence fell on the whole party when Muflog read these strange
words, and the king turned pale. This warning from the dead past was
making the adventure far from enjoyable. Some of the party suggested
the immediate abandonment of the expedition and the prompt return
home. They feared hidden dangers now. But the king remained resolute.
"I must investigate this to the end," he said in a firm voice. "Those
who are seized by fear may return. I will go on, if needs be, alone."
Encouraged by these words, the hunters decided to remain with the
king. One of them began to batter at the door, but the king was
anxious to preserve the inscription, and after more cutting away of
weeds, the key was seen to be sticking in the keyhole. Unlocking the
door, however, was no light task, for ages of rust had accumulated.
When finally this was accomplished the door creaked heavily on its
hinges and a musty smell came from the dank corridor that was
revealed.
The explorers walked ankle-deep in dust through a maze of rooms until
they came to a big central hall of statues. So artistically fashioned
were they that they seemed lifelike in their attitudes, and for a
moment all held their breath. This hall was dustless, and Muflog
pointed out that it was an airtight chamber. Evidently it had been
specifically devised to preserve the statues.
"These must be the effigies of kings," said his majesty, and on
reading the inscriptions, Muflog said that was so.
At the far end of the hall, on a pedestal higher than the others, was
a statue bigger than the rest. In addition to the name there was an
inscription on the pedestal. Muflog read it amid an awed stillness:
"I am the last of the kings--yea, the last of men, and with my
own hands have completed this work. I ruled over a thousand
cities, rode on a thousand horses, and received the homage of a
thousand vassal princes; but when Famine came I was powerless.
Ye who may read this, take heed of the fate that has overwhelmed
this land. Take but one word of counsel from the last of the
mortals; prepare thy meal while the daylight lasts * * *"
The words broke off: the rest was undecipherable.
"Enough," cried the king, and his voice was not steady. "This has
indeed been good hunting. I have learned, in my folly and pursuit of
pleasure, what I had failed to see for myself. Let us return and act
upon the counsel of this king who has met the end that will surely be
our own should we forget his warning."
Looking out across the plain they had traversed, his majesty seemed to
see a vision of prosperous cities and smiling fertile fields. In
imagination, he saw caravans laden with merchandise journeying across
the intervening spaces. Then, as darker thoughts followed, a cloud
appeared to settle over the whole land. The cities crumbled and
disappeared, the eagles swooped down and took possession of that which
man had failed to appreciate and hold; and after the eagles the dust
of the ages settled slowly, piling itself up year by year until
everything was covered and only the desert was visible.
Scarcely a word was spoken as the king and his hunters made their way
back to the land East of the Rising Sun. In all, they had been away
forty days when they re-crossed the barrier of rocks. They were
joyously welcomed.
"What have you brought," asked the populace. "In a little while we
shall be starving."
"Ye shall not starve," said the king. "I have brought wisdom from the
Palace of the Eagles. From the fate and sufferings of others I have
learned a lesson--my duty."
At once he set to work to organize the proper distribution of the food
supply and the cultivation of the land. He wasted no more time on
foolish pleasures, and in due course the land East of the Rising Sun
enjoyed happiness and prosperity and even established fruitful
colonies in the plain overlooked by the Palace of the Eagles.
[Illustration: Og, riding gaily on the unicorn behind the Ark,
was quite happy. (_Page 30_).]
The Giant of the Flood
Just before the world was drowned all the animals gathered in front of
the Ark and Father Noah carefully inspected them.
"All ye that lie down shall enter and be saved from the deluge that is
about to destroy the world," he said. "Ye that stand cannot enter."
Then the various creatures began to march forward into the Ark. Father
Noah watched them closely. He seemed troubled.
"I wonder," he said to himself, "how I shall obtain a unicorn, and how
I shall get it into the Ark."
"I can bring thee a unicorn, Father Noah," he heard in a voice of
thunder, and turning round he saw the giant, Og. "But thou must agree
to save me, too, from the flood."
"Begone," cried Noah. "Thou art a demon, not a human being. I can have
no dealings with thee."
"Pity me," whined the giant. "See how my figure is shrinking. Once I
was so tall that I could drink water from the clouds and toast fish at
the sun. I fear not that I shall be drowned, but that all the food
will be destroyed and that I shall perish of hunger."
Noah, however, only smiled; but he grew serious again when Og brought
a unicorn. It was as big as a mountain, although the giant said it was
the smallest he could find. It lay down in front of the Ark and Noah
saw by that action that he must save it. For some time he was puzzled
what to do, but at last a bright idea struck him. He attached the huge
beast to the Ark by a rope fastened to its horn so that it could swim
alongside and be fed.
Og seated himself on a mountain near at hand and watched the rain
pouring down. Faster and faster it fell in torrents until the rivers
overflowed and the waters began to rise rapidly on the land and sweep
all things away. Father Noah stood gloomily before the door of the Ark
until the water reached his neck. Then it swept him inside. The door
closed with a bang, and the Ark rose gallantly on the flood and began
to move along. The unicorn swam alongside, and as it passed Og, the
giant jumped on to its back.
"See, Father Noah," he cried, with a huge chuckle, "you will have to
save me after all. I will snatch all the food you put through the
window for the unicorn."
Noah saw that it was useless to argue with Og, who might, indeed, sink
the Ark with his tremendous strength.
"I will make a bargain with thee," he shouted from a window. "I will
feed thee, but thou must promise to be a servant to my descendants."
Og was very hungry, so he accepted the conditions and devoured his
first breakfast.
The rain continued to fall in great big sheets that shut out the light
of day. Inside the Ark, however, all was bright and cheerful, for Noah
had collected the most precious of the stones of the earth and had
used them for the windows. Their radiance illumined the whole of the
three stories in the Ark. Some of the animals were troublesome and
Noah got no sleep at all. The lion had a bad attack of fever. In a
corner a bird slept the whole of the time. This was the phoenix.
"Wake up," said Noah, one day. "It is feeding time."
"Thank you," returned the bird. "I saw thou wert busy, Father Noah,
so I would not trouble thee."
"Thou art a good bird," said Noah, much touched, "therefore thou shalt
never die."
One day the rain ceased, the clouds rolled away and the sun shone
brilliantly again. How strange the world looked! It was like a vast
ocean. Nothing but water could be seen anywhere, and only one or two
of the highest mountain tops peeped above the flood. All the world was
drowned, and Noah gazed on the desolate scene from one of the windows
with tears in his eyes. Og, riding gaily on the unicorn behind the
Ark, was quite happy.
"Ha, ha!" he laughed gleefully. "I shall be able to eat and drink just
as much as I like now and shall never be troubled by those tiny little
creatures, the mortals."
"Be not so sure," said Noah. "Those tiny mortals shall be thy masters
and shall outlive thee and the whole race of giants and demons."
The giant did not relish this prospect. He knew that whatever Noah
prophesied would come true, and he was so sad that he ate no food for
two days and began to grow smaller and thinner. He became more and
more unhappy as day by day the water subsided and the mountains began
to appear. At last the Ark rested on Mount Ararat, and Og's long ride
came to an end.
"I will soon leave thee, Father Noah," he said. "I shall wander round
the world to see what is left of it."
"Thou canst not go until I permit thee," said Noah. "Hast thou
forgotten our compact so soon? Thou must be my servant. I have work
for thee."
Giants are not fond of work, and Og, who was the father of all the
giants, was particularly lazy. He cared only to eat and sleep, but he
knew he was in Noah's power, and he shed bitter tears when he saw the
land appear again.
"Stop," commanded Noah. "Dost thou wish to drown the world once more
with thy big tears?"
So Og sat on a mountain and rocked from side to side, weeping silently
to himself. He watched the animals leave the Ark and had to do all the
hard work when Noah's children built houses. Daily he complained that
he was shrinking to the size of the mortals, for Noah said there was
not too much food.
One day Noah said to him, "Come with me, Og. I am going around the
world. I am commanded to plant fruit and flowers to make the earth
beautiful. I need thy help."
For many days they wandered all over the earth, and Og was compelled
to carry the heavy bag of seeds. The last thing Noah planted was the
grape vine.
"What is this--food, or drink?" asked Og.
"Both," replied Noah. "It can be eaten, or its juice made into wine,"
and as he planted it, he blessed the grape. "Be thou," he said, "a
plant pleasing to the eye, bear fruit that will be food for the hungry
and a health-giving drink to the thirsty and sick."
Og grunted.
"I will offer up sacrifice to this wonderful fruit," he said. "May I
not do so now that our labors are over?"
Noah agreed, and the giant brought a sheep, a lion, a pig and a
monkey. First, he slaughtered the sheep, then the lion.
"When a man shall taste but a few drops of the wine," he said, "he
shall be as harmless as a sheep. When he takes a little more he shall
be as strong as a lion."
Then Og began to dance around the plant, and he killed the pig and the
monkey. Noah was very much surprised.
"I am giving thy descendants two extra blessings," said Og, chuckling.
He rolled over and over on the ground in great glee and then said:
"When a man shall drink too much of the juice of the wine, then shall
he become a beast like the pig, and if then he still continues to
drink, he shall behave foolishly like a monkey."
And that is why, unto this day, too much wine makes a man silly.
Og himself often drank too much, and many years afterward, when he was
a servant to the patriarch Abraham, the latter scolded him until he
became so frightened that he dropped a tooth. Abraham made an ivory
chair for himself from this tooth. Afterwards Og became King of
Bashan, but he forgot his compact with Noah and instead of helping the
Israelites to obtain Canaan he opposed them.
"I will kill them all with one blow," he declared.
Exerting all his enormous strength he uprooted a mountain, and raising
it high above his head he prepared to drop it on the camp of the
Israelites and crush it.
But a wonderful thing happened. The mountain was full of grasshoppers
and ants who had bored millions of tiny holes in it. When King Og
raised the great mass it crumbled in his hands and fell over his head
and round his neck like a collar. He tried to pull it off, but his
teeth became entangled in the mass. As he danced about in rage and
pain, Moses, the leader of the Israelites, approached him.
Moses was a tiny man compared with Og. He was only ten ells high, and
he carried with him a sword of the same length. With a mighty effort
he jumped ten ells into the air, and raising the sword, he managed to
strike the giant on the ankle and wound him mortally.
Thus, after many years, did the terrible giant of the flood perish for
breaking his word to Father Noah.
The Fairy Princess of Ergetz
I
In a great and beautiful city that stood by the sea, an old man lay
dying. Mar Shalmon was his name, and he was the richest man in the
land. Propped up with pillows on a richly decorated bed in a luxurious
chamber, he gazed, with tears in his eyes, through the open window at
the setting sun. Like a ball of fire it sank lower and lower until it
almost seemed to rest on the tranquil waters beyond the harbor.
Suddenly, Mar Shalmon roused himself.
"Where is my son, Bar Shalmon?" he asked in a feeble voice, and his
hand crept tremblingly along the silken coverlet of the bed as if in
search of something.
"I am here, my father," replied his son who was standing by the side
of his bed. His eyes were moist with tears, but his voice was steady.
"My son," said the old man, slowly, and with some difficulty, "I am
about to leave this world. My soul will take flight from this frail
body when the sun has sunk behind the horizon. I have lived long and
have amassed great wealth which will soon be thine. Use it well, as I
have taught thee, for thou, my son, art a man of learning, as befits
our noble Jewish faith. One thing I must ask thee to promise me."
[Illustration: A strange crowd of demons of all shapes and
sizes poured into the synagogue with threatening gestures.
(_Page 40_).]
"I will, my father," returned Bar Shalmon, sobbing.
"Nay, weep not, my son," said the old man. "My day is ended; my life
has not been ill-spent. I would spare thee the pain that was mine in
my early days, when, as a merchant, I garnered my fortune. The sea out
there that will soon swallow up the sun is calm now. But beware of it,
my son, for it is treacherous. Promise me--nay, swear unto me--that
never wilt thou cross it to foreign lands."
Bar Shalmon placed his hands on those of his father.
"Solemnly I swear," he said, in a broken voice, "to do thy wish--never
to journey on the sea, but to remain here in this, my native land.
'Tis a vow before thee, my father."
"'Tis an oath before heaven," said the old man. "Guard it, keep it,
and heaven will bless thee. Remember! See, the sun is sinking."
Mar Shalmon fell back upon his pillows and spoke no more. Bar Shalmon
stood gazing out of the window until the sun had disappeared, and
then, silently sobbing, he left the chamber of death.
The whole city wept when the sad news was made known, for Mar Shalmon
was a man of great charity, and almost all the inhabitants followed
the remains to the grave. Then Bar Shalmon, his son, took his father's
place of honor in the city, and in him, too, the poor and needy found
a friend whose purse was ever open and whose counsel was ever wisdom.
Thus years passed away.
One day there arrived in the harbor of the city a strange ship from a
distant land. Its captain spoke a tongue unknown, and Bar Shalmon,
being a man of profound knowledge, was sent for. He alone in the city
could understand the language of the captain. To his astonishment, he
learned that the cargo of the vessel was for Mar Shalmon, his father.
"I am the son of Mar Shalmon," he said. "My father is dead, and all
his possessions he left to me."
"Then, verily, art thou the most fortunate mortal, and the richest, on
earth," answered the captain. "My good ship is filled with a vast
store of jewels, precious stones and other treasures. And know you, O
most favored son of Mar Shalmon, this cargo is but a small portion of
the wealth that is thine in a land across the sea."
"'Tis strange," said Bar Shalmon, in surprise; "my father said nought
of this to me. I knew that in his younger days he had traded with
distant lands, but nothing did he ever say of possessions there. And,
moreover, he warned me never to leave this shore."
The captain looked perplexed.
"I understand it not," he said. "I am but performing my father's
bidding. He was thy father's servant, and long years did he wait for
Mar Shalmon's return to claim his riches. On his death-bed he bade me
vow that I would seek his master, or his son, and this have I done."
He produced documents, and there could be no doubt that the vast
wealth mentioned in them belonged now to Bar Shalmon.
"Thou art now my master," said the captain, "and must return with me
to the land across the sea to claim thine inheritance. In another year
it will be too late, for by the laws of the country it will be
forfeit."
"I cannot return with thee," said Bar Shalmon. "I have a vow before
heaven never to voyage on the sea."
The captain laughed.
"In very truth, I understand thee not, as my father understood not
thine," he replied. "My father was wont to say that Mar Shalmon was
strange and peradventure not possessed of all his senses to neglect
his store of wealth and treasure."
With an angry gesture Bar Shalmon stopped the captain, but he was
sorely troubled. He recalled now that his father had often spoken
mysteriously of foreign lands, and he wondered, indeed, whether Mar
Shalmon could have been in his proper senses not to have breathed a
word of his riches abroad. For days he discussed the matter with the
captain, who at last persuaded him to make the journey.
"Fear not thy vow," said the captain. "Thy worthy father must, of a
truth, have been bereft of reason in failing to tell thee of his full
estate, and an oath to a man of mind unsound is not binding. That is
the law in our land."
"So it is here," returned Bar Shalmon, and with this remark his last
scruple vanished.
He bade a tender farewell to his wife, his child, and his friends,
and set sail on the strange ship to the land beyond the sea.
For three days all went well, but on the fourth the ship was becalmed
and the sails flapped lazily against the masts. The sailors had
nothing to do but lie on deck and wait for a breeze, and Bar Shalmon
took advantage of the occasion to treat them to a feast.
Suddenly, in the midst of the feasting, they felt the ship begin to
move. There was no wind, but the vessel sped along very swiftly. The
captain himself rushed to the helm. To his alarm he found the vessel
beyond control.
"The ship is bewitched," he exclaimed. "There is no wind, and no
current, and yet we are being borne along as if driven before a storm.
We shall be lost."
Panic seized the sailors, and Bar Shalmon was unable to pacify them.
"Someone on board has brought us ill-luck," said the boatswain,
looking pointedly at Bar Shalmon; "we shall have to heave him
overboard."
His comrades assented and rushed toward Bar Shalmon.
Just at that moment, however, the look-out in the bow cried excitedly,
"Land ahead!"
The ship still refused to answer the helm and grounded on a sandbank.
She shivered from stem to stern but did not break up. No rocks were
visible, only a desolate tract of desert land was to be seen, with
here and there a solitary tree.
"We seem to have sustained no damage," said the captain, when he had
recovered from his first astonishment, "but how we are going to get
afloat again I do not know. This land is quite strange to me."
He could not find it marked on any of his charts or maps, and the
sailors stood looking gloomily at the mysterious shore.
"Had we not better explore the land?" said Bar Shalmon.
"No, no," exclaimed the boatswain, excitedly. "See, no breakers strike
on the shore. This is not a human land. This is a domain of demons. We
are lost unless we cast overboard the one who has brought on us this
ill-luck."
Said Bar Shalmon, "I will land, and I will give fifty silver crowns to
all who land with me."
Not one of the sailors moved, however, even when he offered fifty
golden crowns, and at last Bar Shalmon said he would land alone,
although the captain strongly urged him not to do so.
Bar Shalmon sprang lightly to the shore, and as he did so the ship
shook violently.
"What did I tell you?" shouted the boatswain. "Bar Shalmon is the one
who has brought us this misfortune. Now we shall refloat the ship."
But it still remained firmly fixed on the sand. Bar Shalmon walked
towards a tree and climbed it. In a few moments he returned, holding a
twig in his hand.
"The land stretches away for miles just as you see it here," he called
to the captain. "There is no sign of man or habitation."
He prepared to board the vessel again, but the sailors would not allow
him. The boatswain stood in the bow and threatened him with a sword.
Bar Shalmon raised the twig to ward off the blow and struck the ship
which shivered from stern to stern again.
"Is not this proof that the vessel is bewitched?" cried the sailors,
and when the captain sternly bade them remember that Bar Shalmon was
their master, they threatened him too.
Bar Shalmon, amused at the fears of the men, again struck the vessel
with the twig. Once more it trembled. A third time he raised the
twig.
"If the ship is bewitched," he said, "something will happen after the
third blow."
"Swish" sounded the branch through the air, and the third blow fell on
the vessel's bow. Something did happen. The ship almost leaped from
the sand, and before Bar Shalmon could realize what had happened it
was speeding swiftly away.
"Come back, come back," he screamed, and he could see the captain
struggling with the helm. But the vessel refused to answer, and Bar
Shalmon saw it grow smaller and smaller and finally disappear. He was
alone on an uninhabited desert land.
"What a wretched plight for the richest man in the world," he said to
himself, and the next moment he realized that he was in danger indeed.
A terrible roar made him look around. To his horror he saw a lion
making toward him. As quick as a flash Bar Shalmon ran to the tree and
hastily scrambled into the branches. The lion dashed itself furiously
against the trunk of the tree, but, for the present, Bar Shalmon was
safe. Night, however, was coming on, and the lion squatted at the foot
of the tree, evidently intending to wait for him. All night the lion
remained, roaring at intervals, and Bar Shalmon clung to one of the
upper branches afraid to sleep lest he should fall off and be
devoured. When morning broke, a new danger threatened him. A huge
eagle flew round the tree and darted at him with its cruel beak. Then
the great bird settled on the thickest branch, and Bar Shalmon moved
stealthily forward with a knife which he drew from his belt. He crept
behind the bird, but as he approached it spread its big wings, and Bar
Shalmon, to prevent himself being swept from the tree, dropped the
knife and clutched at the bird's feathers. Immediately, to his dismay,
the bird rose from the tree. Bar Shalmon clung to its back with all
his might.
Higher and higher soared the eagle until the trees below looked like
mere dots on the land. Swiftly flew the eagle over miles and miles of
desert until Bar Shalmon began to feel giddy. He was faint with hunger
and feared that he would not be able to retain his hold. All day the
bird flew without resting, across island and sea. No houses, no ships,
no human beings could be seen. Toward night, however, Bar Shalmon, to
his great joy, beheld the lights of a city surrounded by trees, and as
the eagle came near, he made a bold dive to the earth. Headlong he
plunged downward. He seemed to be hours in falling. At last he struck
a tree. The branches broke beneath the weight and force of his falling
body, and he continued to plunge downward. The branches tore his
clothes to shreds and bruised his body, but they broke his terrible
fall, and when at last he reached the ground he was not much hurt.
II
Bar Shalmon found himself on the outskirts of the city, and cautiously
he crept forward. To his intense relief, he saw that the first
building was a synagogue. The door, however, was locked. Weary, sore,
and weak with long fasting, Bar Shalmon sank down on the steps and
sobbed like a child.
Something touched him on the arm. He looked up. By the light of the
moon he saw a boy standing before him. Such a queer boy he was, too.
He had cloven feet, and his coat, if it was a coat, seemed to be made
in the shape of wings.
"_Ivri Onochi_," said Bar Shalmon, "I am a Hebrew."
"So am I," said the boy. "Follow me."
He walked in front with a strange hobble, and when they reached a
house at the back of the synagogue, he leaped from the ground,
spreading his coat wings as he did so, to a window about twenty feet
from the ground. The next moment a door opened, and Bar Shalmon, to
his surprise, saw that the boy had jumped straight through the window
down to the door which he had unfastened from the inside. The boy
motioned him to enter a room. He did so. An aged man, who he saw was a
rabbi, rose to greet him.
"Peace be with you," said the rabbi, and pointed to a seat. He clapped
his hand and immediately a table with food appeared before Bar
Shalmon. The latter was far too hungry to ask any questions just then,
and the rabbi was silent, too, while he ate. When he had finished, the
rabbi clapped his hands and the table vanished.
"Now tell me your story," said the rabbi.
Bar Shalmon did so.
"Alas! I am an unhappy man," he concluded. "I have been punished for
breaking my vow. Help me to return to my home. I will reward thee
well, and will atone for my sin."
"Thy story is indeed sad," said the rabbi, gravely, "but thou knowest
not the full extent of thy unfortunate plight. Art thou aware what
land it is into which thou hast been cast?"
"No," said Bar Shalmon, becoming afraid again.
"Know then," said the rabbi, "thou art not in a land of human beings.
Thou hast fallen into Ergetz, the land of demons, of djinns, and of
fairies."
"But art thou not a Jew?" asked Bar Shalmon, in astonishment.
"Truly," replied the rabbi. "Even in this realm we have all manner of
religions just as you mortals have."
"What will happen to me?" asked Bar Shalmon, in a whisper.
"I know not," replied the rabbi. "Few mortals come here, and mostly, I
fear they are put to death. The demons love them not."
"Woe, woe is me," cried Bar Shalmon, "I am undone."
"Weep not," said the rabbi. "I, as a Jew, love not death by violence
and torture, and will endeavor to save thee."
"I thank thee," cried Bar Shalmon.
"Let thy thanks wait," said the rabbi, kindly. "There is human blood
in my veins. My great-grandfather was a mortal who fell into this
land and was not put to death. Being of mortal descent, I have been
made rabbi. Perhaps thou wilt find favor here and be permitted to live
and settle in this land."
"But I desire to return home," said Bar Shalmon.
The rabbi shook his head.
"Thou must sleep now," he said.
He passed his hands over Bar Shalmon's eyes and he fell into a
profound slumber. When he awoke it was daylight, and the boy stood by
his couch. He made a sign to Bar Shalmon to follow, and through an
underground passage he conducted him into the synagogue and placed him
near the rabbi.
"Thy presence has become known," whispered the rabbi, and even as he
spoke a great noise was heard. It was like the wild chattering of many
high-pitched voices. Through all the windows and the doors a strange
crowd poured into the synagogue. There were demons of all shapes and
sizes. Some had big bodies with tiny heads, others huge heads and
quaint little bodies. Some had great staring eyes, others had long
wide mouths, and many had only one leg each. They surrounded Bar
Shalmon with threatening gestures and noises. The rabbi ascended the
pulpit.
"Silence!" he commanded, and immediately the noise ceased. "Ye who
thirst for mortal blood, desecrate not this holy building wherein I am
master. What ye have to say must wait until after the morning
service."
Silently and patiently they waited, sitting in all manner of queer
places. Some of them perched on the backs of the seats, a few clung
like great big flies to the pillars, others sat on the window-sills,
and several of the tiniest hung from the rafters in the ceiling. As
soon as the service was over, the clamor broke out anew.
"Give to us the perjurer," screamed the demons. "He is not fit to
live."
With some difficulty, the rabbi stilled the tumult, and said:
"Listen unto me, ye demons and sprites of the land of Ergetz. This man
has fallen into my hands, and I am responsible for him. Our king,
Ashmedai, must know of his arrival. We must not condemn a man unheard.
Let us petition the king to grant him a fair trial."
After some demur, the demons agreed to this proposal, and they trooped
out of the synagogue in the same peculiar manner in which they came.
Each was compelled to leave by the same door or window at which he
entered.
Bar Shalmon was carried off to the palace of King Ashmedai, preceded
and followed by a noisy crowd of demons and fairies. There seemed to
be millions of them, all clattering and pointing at him. They hobbled
and hopped over the ground, jumped into the air, sprang from housetop
to housetop, made sudden appearances from holes in the ground and
vanished through solid walls.
The palace was a vast building of white marble that seemed as delicate
as lace work. It stood in a magnificent square where many beautiful
fountains spouted jets of crystal water. King Ashmedai came forth on
the balcony, and at his appearance all the demons and fairies became
silent and went down on their knees.
"What will ye with me?" he cried, in a voice of thunder, and the rabbi
approached and bowed before his majesty.
"A mortal, a Jew, has fallen into my hands," he said, "and thy
subjects crave for his blood. He is a perjurer, they say. Gracious
majesty, I would petition for a trial."
"What manner of mortal is he?" asked Ashmedai.
Bar Shalmon stepped forward.
"Jump up here so I may see thee," commanded the king.
"Jump, jump," cried the crowd.
"I cannot," said Bar Shalmon, as he looked up at the balcony thirty
feet above the ground.
"Try," said the rabbi.
Bar Shalmon did try, and found, the moment he lifted his feet from the
ground, that he was standing on the balcony.
"Neatly done," said the king. "I see thou art quick at learning."
"So my teachers always said," replied Bar Shalmon.
"A proper answer," said the king. "Thou art, then, a scholar."
"In my own land," returned Bar Shalmon, "men said I was great among
the learned."
"So," said the king. "And canst thou impart the wisdom of man and of
the human world to others?"
"I can," said Bar Shalmon.
"We shall see," said the king. "I have a son with a desire for such
knowledge. If thou canst make him acquainted with thy store of
learning, thy life shall be spared. The petition for a trial is
granted."
The king waved his scepter and two slaves seized Bar Shalmon by the
arms. He felt himself lifted from the balcony and carried swiftly
through the air. Across the vast square the slaves flew with him, and
when over the largest of the fountains they loosened their hold. Bar
Shalmon thought he would fall into the fountain, but to his amazement
he found himself standing on the roof of a building. By his side was
the rabbi.
"Where are we?" asked Bar Shalmon. "I feel bewildered."
"We are at the Court of Justice, one hundred miles from the palace,"
replied the rabbi.
A door appeared before them. They stepped through, and found
themselves in a beautiful hall. Three judges in red robes and purple
wigs were seated on a platform, and an immense crowd filled the
galleries in the same queer way as in the synagogue. Bar Shalmon was
placed on a small platform in front of the judges. A tiny sprite, only
about six inches high, stood on another small platform at his right
hand and commenced to read from a scroll that seemed to have no
ending. He read the whole account of Bar Shalmon's life. Not one
little event was missing.
"The charge against Bar Shalmon, the mortal," the sprite concluded,
"is that he has violated the solemn oath sworn at his father's
death-bed."
Then the rabbi pleaded for him and declared that the oath was not
binding because Bar Shalmon's father had not informed him of his
treasures abroad and could not therefore have been in his right
senses. Further, he added, Bar Shalmon was a scholar and the king
desired him to teach his wisdom to the crown prince.
The chief justice rose to pronounce sentence.
"Bar Shalmon," he said, "rightly thou shouldst die for thy broken
oath. It is a grievous sin. But there is the doubt that thy father may
not have been in his right mind. Therefore, thy life shall be spared."
Bar Shalmon expressed his thanks.
"When may I return to my home?" he asked.
"Never," replied the chief justice.
Bar Shalmon left the court, feeling very downhearted. He was safe now.
The demons dared not molest him, but he longed to return to his home.
"How am I to get back to the palace?" he asked the rabbi. "Perhaps
after I have imparted my learning to the crown prince, the king will
allow me to return to my native land."
"That I cannot say. Come, fly with me," said the rabbi.
"Fly!"
"Yes; see thou hast wings."
Bar Shalmon noticed that he was now wearing a garment just like all
the demons. When he spread his arms, he found he could fly, and he
sailed swiftly through the air to the palace. With these wings, he
thought, he would be able to fly home.
"Think not that," said the rabbi, who seemed to be able to read his
thoughts, "for thy wings are useless beyond this land."
Bar Shalmon found that it would be best for him to carry out his
instructions for the present, and he set himself diligently to teach
the crown prince. The prince was an apt pupil, and the two became
great friends. King Ashmedai was delighted and made Bar Shalmon one of
his favorites.
One day the king said to him: "I am about to leave the city for a
while to undertake a campaign against a rebellious tribe of demons
thousands of miles away. I must take the crown prince with me. I leave
thee in charge of the palace."
The king gave him a huge bunch of keys.
"These," he said, "will admit into all but one of the thousand rooms
in the palace. For that one there is no key, and thou must not enter
it. Beware."
For several days Bar Shalmon amused himself by examining the hundreds
of rooms in the vast palace until one day he came to the door for
which he had no key. He forgot the king's warning and his promise to
obey.
"Open this door for me," he said to his attendants, but they replied
that they could not.
"You must," he said angrily, "burst it open."
"We do not know how to burst open a door," they said. "We are not
mortal. If we were permitted to enter the room we should just walk
through the walls."
Bar Shalmon could not do this, so he put his shoulder to the door and
it yielded quite easily.
A strange sight met his gaze. A beautiful woman, the most beautiful he
had ever seen, was seated on a throne of gold, surrounded by fairy
attendants who vanished the moment he entered.
"Who art thou?" asked Bar Shalmon, in great astonishment.
"The daughter of the king," replied the princess, "and thy future
wife."
"Indeed! How know you that?" he asked.
"Thou hast broken thy promise to my father, the king, not to enter
this room," she replied. "Therefore, thou must die, unless--"
"Tell me quickly," interrupted Bar Shalmon, turning pale, "how my life
can be saved."
"Thou must ask my father for my hand," replied the princess. "Only by
becoming my husband canst thou be saved."
"But I have a wife and child in my native land," said Bar Shalmon,
sorely troubled.
"Thou hast now forfeited thy hopes of return," said the princess,
slowly. "Once more hast thou broken a promise. It seems to come easy
to thee now."
Bar Shalmon had no wish to die, and he waited, in fear and trembling
for the king's return. Immediately he heard of King Ashmedai's
approach, he hastened to meet him and flung himself on the ground at
his majesty's feet.
"O King," he cried, "I have seen thy daughter, the princess, and I
desire to make her my wife."
"I cannot refuse," returned the king. "Such is our law--that he who
first sees the princess must become her husband, or die. But, have a
care, Bar Shalmon. Thou must swear to love and be faithful ever."
"I swear," said Bar Shalmon.