palace to bring the casket. The messenger brought it, gave it to the
Caliph, and retired. The Caliph opened the lid and looked inside. It
was in truth empty! His gaze fell on the inscription:--
"'Tis Allah's will that he who cherishes
The precious gift that never perishes,
Shall make the East to bend as low
As palms that in the whirlwind blow."
He read the verse and looked at the youth. "Abdul Kassim," he said,
"you have jewels in your heart more precious than all the treasures of
the earth. For love of your brothers you gave up the stones, and for
love of your father you have preserved this seemingly worthless
casket. But Allah has blessed you for your virtues and has, by means
of this humble iron casket, raised you to power and wealth. I dare not
refuse to assist you. I will give you the most priceless gift at my
disposal--the hand of my only daughter."
He called the chief overseer of the harem and bade him lead Fatma to
the throne-room. The maiden had passed the night in weeping, for she
had heard that she was to be given in marriage to a strange man. She
shuddered at the thought, for as only child of the Caliph she had been
thoroughly spoiled, and hated the idea of leaving her father's roof.
Abdul Kassim, who until now had been struck utterly dumb with
astonishment, could not refrain from a cry of admiration at the sight
of the lovely Fatma. She seemed to him a hundred times more beautiful
than any description he had heard of her in Bagdad.
In the midst of her grief Fatma retained her woman's curiosity, and on
hearing the youth's voice, cast one glance at him over her father's
shoulder. The first impression seemed not unfavourable. She eyed his
slender form as he stood leaning on his sword, and gradually ceased
her sobbing. She even raised herself and took hold of the Caliph's
arm. "Father," she said, "do with me what you will; not without cause
do the people call you 'The Wise One'."
So Fatma was married to Abdul. But neither she nor any other ever knew
that the iron casket connected with her young lord's rise and power
was empty. The Caliph advised his son-in-law to maintain the deepest
silence as to the absence of the magic jewels.
In the fifth year of their wedded life the Caliph, feeling the weight
of advancing years, abdicated in Abdul Kassim's favour, so the verse
on the casket was fulfilled, and Abdul Kassim reigned many, many years
over Bagdad, the best and wisest ruler who had ever ascended the
throne. Allah's name be praised!
_The Knights of the Fish_
Once upon a time there was a poor cobbler, who, being unable to live
by mending shoes, determined to buy a net and turn fisherman. He went
a-fishing for several days, but could draw up nothing in his net but
old boots and shoes, though few enough of them could he get hold of
when he was a cobbler. At last he thought:
"This is the very last day I will go fishing. If I catch nothing I
will go and hang myself."
He cast his net, and this time he found a fine fish in it. When he had
taken the fish in his hand, it opened its mouth and said to him:
"Take me home to your house; cut me in six pieces and stew me with
salt and pepper, cinnamon and cloves, laurel leaves and mint. Give two
of the pieces to your wife, two to your mare, and the other two to the
plant in the garden."
The cobbler did exactly what the fish had told him to do, such was the
faith he had in its words. And he was duly rewarded, for several
months afterward his wife presented him with two fine boys, and his
mare with two colts, whilst the plant in his garden grew two lances
which, instead of flowers, bore two shields, on which were to be seen
a silver fish on an azure ground.
Everything went on so prosperously that in course of time, one fine
day, might be seen two gallant youths issuing from the cobbler's
house, mounted upon two superb chargers, and bearing slender lances
and brilliant shields.
These two brothers were so much alike that they were known as The
Double Knight; and each of them wishing, as was just, to preserve his
own individuality, they determined to separate and each seek his own
fortune. After embracing affectionately, the one took his way toward
the West, and the other toward the East.
After travelling for some days the first arrived at Madrid, and found
the royal city pouring bitter tears into the pure, sweet waters of her
cherished river, the Manzanares. Everybody was weeping when our
gallant youth arrived at the Spanish capital; he inquired the cause of
this universal lamentation, and was informed that every year a fiery
dragon came and carried off a beautiful maiden, and that this luckless
year the lot had fallen upon their princess, the king's good and
peerless daughter.
The knight at once inquired where the princess was to be found, and
was informed, at about a quarter of a league's distance, where she was
expecting the fiery one to appear and carry her off to his den. Then
the knight started off at once to the place indicated, and found the
princess bathed in tears, and trembling from head to foot.
"Fly away!" cried the princess, when she saw the Knight of the Fish
approach; "fly away, rash one! the monster is coming here, and if he
sees you, heaven help you!"
"I shall not go away," responded the gallant youth, "because I have
come to save you."
"To save me! Is that possible?"
"I am going to see," responded the valiant champion. "Are there any
German merchants in the city?"
"Yes," answered the princess in astonishment; "but why do you ask?"
"You will see," said the knight, and galloped off to the city of
mourning.
He speedily returned with an immense mirror which he had purchased
from a German dealer. This he rested against the trunk of a tree, and
covered it with the princess's veil, placing her in front of it, and
instructing her that when the dragon was near to her she was to pull
off the veil and slip behind the glass. So saying, the knight retired
behind an adjacent wall.
In a little while the fiery dragon appeared, and gradually drew near
to the fair one, eying her with all the insolence and effrontery
possible. When he was quite close, the princess, as she had been
instructed by her champion, withdrew the veil, and slipping behind the
mirror, disappeared from before the eyes of the fiery dragon, which
remained stupefied at finding his amorous glances directed at a dragon
similar to himself. He made a movement; his resemblance did the same.
His eyes sparkled red and brilliant as two rubies; whilst those of his
opponent gleamed like two carbuncles. This increased his fury; he
erected his scales as a porcupine would its quills, and those of his
rival likewise stood up. He opened his tremendous mouth, which would
have been without parallel but for that of his opponent, who, far from
being intimidated, opened an identical one. The dragon dashed
furiously against his intrepid adversary, giving such an awful blow
with his head against the mirror that he was completely stunned; and
as he had broken the glass, and in every piece saw a piece of his own
body, he fancied that with one blow he had dashed his rival to atoms.
The knight availed himself of this moment of confusion and
stupefaction, and dashing forth impetuously from his retreat, with his
good lance deprived the dragon of its life, and would have been ready
to deprive it of a hundred lives had it possessed so many.
The delight and jubilation of the Madrid people may be imagined when
they beheld the Knight of the Fish bearing on his saddle the beautiful
princess, quite uninjured and as lively as a cricket, and the dragon,
fastened by its neck to his sturdy charger, hanging dead and bloodless
behind. It may, also, be readily guessed that after such an
achievement they were unable to reward the gallant knight with
anything but the princess's fair hand; and that they had wedding
festivities, and banquets, and bull fights, and tilting matches, and
all sorts of good things.
Some days after the marriage the Knight of the Fish said to his wife
that he would like to look over the palace, which was so extensive
that it covered a league of ground. They inspected the place together,
and the task occupied them four days. On the fourth day they ascended
the roof, and the knight was struck with amazement at the prospect.
Never had he seen anything like it, nor ever could he have seen its
equal, even if he had visited all Spain and the Empire of Morocco as
well.
"What castle is that?" inquired the Knight of the Fish, "which I see
standing in the distance, so solitary and sombre."
"That," responded the princess, "is the castle of Albastretch; it is
enchanted, and no one is able to undo the enchantment; and no one of
all those who have gone to it has ever been known to return."
The knight listened intently to this, and as he was valiant and
adventurous, on the following morning he mounted his horse, seized his
lance, and set out for the castle.
The castle was enough to set one's hair on end with fright to look at
it; it was darker than a thunder-cloud, and as silent as death. But
the Knight of the Fish knew nothing of fear, save by hearsay, and
never turned his back on foe until he had conquered; so he took his
cornet and blew it lustily. The sound startled all the slumbering
echoes of the castle, so that they repeated it by heart, now nearer
and now farther, sometimes softer and then louder; but no one stirred
in the castle.
"Ah! what a castle!" shouted the knight. "Is there no one to see to a
knight who craves shelter? Is there no governor, nor squire nor even a
groom, to take my horse away?"
"Away! away! away!" clamoured the echoes.
"Why should I go away?" said the Knight of the Fish. "I shall not go
back, no matter how much you sigh!"
"Ay! ay! ay! (_Alas! alas! alas!_)" groaned the echoes.
The knight grasped his spear and struck a loud blow on the door.
Then the portcullis was raised, and in the opening appeared the tip of
an enormous nose, located between the sunken eyes and fallen-in mouth
of an old woman uglier than sin.
"What do you want, impudent disturber?" she inquired, with a cracked
voice.
"To enter," replied the knight. "Are you not able to afford me the
enjoyment of some rest at this hour of the night? Yes or no?"
"No! no! no!" said the echoes.
Here the knight lifted his vizier, because he was warm; and the old
woman, seeing how handsome he was, said to him:
"Come in, handsome youth; you shall be cared for and well looked
after."
"After! after!" warned the echoes; but the knight was fear-less and
entered, the old woman promising that he should fare well.
"Farewell, farewell!" sighed the echoes.
"Go on, old lady," said the knight.
"I am called Lady Berberisca," interposed the old woman, very crossly;
"and I am the mistress of Albastretch."
"Wretch! wretch!" groaned the echoes.
"Won't you be silent, cursed chatterers?" exclaimed Lady Berberisca.
"I am your humble servant," she continued, making a deep curtsey to
the knight, "and if you like I will be your wife, and you shall live
with me here as grand as a Pacha."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the echoes.
"Would you have me marry you? You must be a hundred. You are foolish,
and mad as well."
"Well, well," said the echoes.
"What I want," said the knight, "is the registry of the castle, to
examine and amend."
"Amen! amen!" sighed the echoes.
Lady Berberisca's pride was deeply wounded; she gave a hasty glance at
the Knight of the Fish, and intimating to him that he should follow
her, she showed him over the castle, where he beheld many strange
things, but she did not afford him any opportunity of referring to
them. The wicked old woman took him through an obscure corridor, where
there was a trap-door, into which he fell and disappeared into an
abyss, where his voice was added to the echoes, which were the voices
of many other gallant and accomplished knights, whom the shameless old
Berberisca had punished in the same manner for having despised her
venerable charms.
* * * * *
Let us now turn to the other Knight of the Fish, who, after long
travels, arrived at Madrid. As he entered the city gates the
sentinels presented arms, the drums beat the royal march and several
of the palace servitors surrounded him, saying that the princess was
in constant tears through his prolonged absence, fearing that some
misfortune had happened to him in the enchanted castle of Albastretch.
"It is necessary that I should pass for my brother," thought the
knight, "to whom, it would appear, some good fortune has occurred. I
must be quiet, and we shall see what will come to pass."
They carried him almost in triumph to the palace, where he found it
easy to accept all the caresses and congratulations bestowed upon him
by the king and the princess. They were eager to learn about his
adventures, and what he had seen at the castle; but to the princess's
inquiries he answered:
"I am not permitted to say a word about that until after I have been
there once more."
"Are you thinking of revisiting that accursed castle? You are the only
one who has yet returned from it."
"It is unavoidable; I am obliged to go there."
When they retired to rest, the knight placed his sword in the bed.
"Why do you do that?" inquired the princess.
"Because I have sworn not to sleep in a bed until after I have
revisited Albastretch."
And on the following day he mounted his steed and took his way to the
enchanted castle, much fearing that some misfortune had happened to
his brother there. He arrived at the castle, and quickly saw the old
woman's fiery nose appear at the portcullis.
No sooner did she see the knight than she became livid with fright,
for she thought he was the dead knight come to life again. She began
to invoke the object of her devotions, Beelzebub, most devoutly, and
promised him all kinds of gifts if he would take from her view that
vision of flesh and blood, drawn up from the abode of the dead.
"Ancient lady!" cried the recent arrival, "I have come to ask where a
knight is who has been here?"
"Here! here! here!" responded the echoes.
"And what have you done with this knight, so accomplished in all
things, and so skilled?"
"Killed! killed!" groaned the echoes.
On hearing this, and seeing the old hag running off, the Knight of the
Fish, beside himself with rage, ran after her, and pierced her through
with his sword, which remained fast in her body, so that she jumped
about at the point of it like a parched pea in a frying-pan.
"Where is my brother, ugly old traitress?" demanded the knight.
"I can tell you," responded the witch, "but as I am at death's door, I
will not let you know until you have resuscitated me."
"But how can I do this, perfidious witch?"
"Go to the garden," responded the old woman, "cut some evergreens,
everlastings, and dragon's blood; with these plants make a decoction
in a caldron, and then sprinkle some of it over me."
After saying this the old woman died, without uttering a prayer. The
knight did all that the witch instructed him to do, and effectually
resuscitated her, but uglier than ever, for her nose remained deadly
white, and looked like an elephant's tusk. Then she was forced to tell
the knight where his brother was; and down in the abyss he not only
found him, but many other victims of the wicked Berberisca. He
sprinkled them all with the decoction in the caldron, and they were
all brought to life again, and to each person came an echo which had
been his voice; and the first words they all uttered were:
"Accursed witch, merciless Berberisca!"
Then all those gallant knights, and many beautiful ladies whom the
fiery old dragon--who was the witch's son--had carried there, gave
thanks to the Knight of the Fish; and one of the most beautiful of the
ladies gave him her hand; on seeing which, the wicked Berberisca died
again with envy and spite.
_Dapplegrim_
Once on a time there was a rich couple who had twelve sons; but the
youngest, when he was grown up, said he wouldn't stay any longer at
home, but be off into the world to try his luck. His father and mother
said he did very well at home, and had better stay where he was. But
no, he couldn't rest; away he must and would go.
So at last they gave him leave. And when he had walked a good bit, he
came to a king's palace, where he asked for a place, and got it.
Now, the daughter of the king of that land had been carried off into
the hill by a Troll, and the king had no other children; so he and all
his land were in great grief and sorrow, and the king gave his word
that anyone who could set her free should have the Princess and half
the kingdom. But there was no one who could do it, though many tried.
When the lad had been there a year or so, he longed to go home again,
and see his father and mother, and back he went; but when he got home
his father and mother were dead, and his brothers had shared all that
the old people owned between them, so there was nothing left for the
lad.
"Shan't I have anything at all, then, out of father's and mother's
goods?" asked the lad.
"Who could tell you were still alive, when you've been wandering about
so long?" said his brothers. "But all the same there are twelve mares
up on the hill which we haven't yet shared amongst us; if you choose
to take them for your share, you're welcome."
Yes, the lad was quite content; so he thanked his brothers, and went
at once up on the hill, where the twelve mares were out at grass. And
when he got up there he found them; and one of them had along with
her a big dapple-gray foal, which was so sleek that the sun shone from
its coat.
"A fine fellow you are, my little foal," said the lad.
"Yes," said the foal, "but you wait until another year has passed, and
then see how big and sleek I'll be."
So the lad went home again, and when he came back the next year to
look after his foal and mares, the foal was so sleek and fat that the
sun shone from its coat, and it had grown so big the lad had hard work
to mount it.
"Well, it's quite plain I lost nothing by leaving you to graze for a
twelvemonth," said the lad to the yearling, "but now you're big enough
to come along with me."
"No," said the colt, "I must bide here a year longer and then see how
big and sleek I'll be by summer."
Yes, the lad did that; and next year when he went up on the hill to
look after his colt and mares, each mare had her foal, but the dapple
colt was so tall that the lad couldn't reach up to his crest when he
wanted to feel how fat he was; and so sleek he was, too, that his coat
glistened in the sunshine.
"Big and beautiful you were last year, my colt," said the lad, "but
this year you're far grander. There's no such horse in the king's
stable. But now you must come along with me."
"No," said Dapple again, "I must stay here one year more, to eat this
beautiful grass, then just come and look at me when the summer comes."
So again the lad went away home.
But when he went up next year to look after Dapple and the mares, he
was quite astonished. So tall, and stout, and sturdy, he never thought
a horse could be; for Dapple had to lie down before the lad could
bestride him, and it was hard work to climb up even then, although he
lay flat; and his coat was so smooth and sleek that the sunbeams shone
from it as from a looking-glass.
This time Dapple was willing enough to follow the lad, so he jumped up
on his back, and when he came riding home to his brothers, they all
clapped their hands and shouted, for such a horse they had never heard
of or seen before.
"If you will only get me the best shoes you can for my horse, and the
grandest saddle and bridle that are to be found," said the lad, "you
may have my twelve mares that graze up on the hill yonder, and their
twelve foals into the bargain." For you must know that this year every
mare had her foal.
Yes, his brothers were ready to do that, and so the lad got such
strong shoes under his horse that the stones flew high aloft as he
rode away across the hills; and he had a golden saddle and a golden
bridle, which gleamed and glistened a long way off.
"Now we're off to the king's palace," said Dapplegrim--that was his
name; "and mind you ask the king for a good stable and fodder for me."
Yes, the lad said he would mind; he'd be sure not to forget; and when
he rode off from his brothers' house, you may be sure it wasn't long,
with such a horse under him, before he got to the king's palace.
When he came there the king was standing on the steps, and stared and
stared at the man who came riding along.
"Nay, nay," said he, "such a man and such a horse I never saw in all
my life."
But when the lad asked if he could resume his place in the king's
household, the king was so glad he was ready to jump and dance as he
stood on the steps.
There was no reason, the king said, why the lad should not come back.
"Ay," said the lad, "but I must have good stable-room for my horse,
and fodder that one can trust."
Yes, he should have meadow-hay and oats, as much as his horse could
cram, and all the other knights had to lead their steeds out of the
stable that Dapplegrim might stand alone, and have it all to himself.
But it wasn't long before all the others in the king's household began
to be jealous of the lad, and there was no end to the bad things they
would have done to him, if they had only dared. At last they thought
of telling the king that he had been boasting he was man enough to set
the king's daughter free--whom the Troll had long since carried away
into the hill--if he only chose. The king called the lad before him,
and said he had heard what the lad had said, so now he must go and do
it. If he succeeded, the king's daughter and half the kingdom should
be his, and that promise would be faithfully kept; if he didn't, he
should be killed.
The lad kept on saying he never said any such thing; but it was no
good, the king wouldn't even listen to him; and so the end of it was
he was forced to say he'd go and try.
So he went into the stable, down in the mouth and heavy-hearted, and
then Dapplegrim asked him at once why he was in such doleful dumps.
Then the lad told him all, and how he couldn't tell which way to turn,
and he said:
"As for setting the Princess free, that's downright nonsense."
"Oh, but it might be done, perhaps," said Dapplegrim. "But you must
first have me well shod. You must go and ask for ten pounds of iron
and twelve pounds of steel for the shoes; and one smith to hammer and
another to hold."
Yes, the lad did that, and got for answer, "Yes." He got both the iron
and the steel, and the smith, and so Dapplegrim was shod both strong
and well, and off went the lad from the courtyard in a cloud of dust.
But when he came to the hill into which the Princess had been carried,
the pinch was how to get up the steep wall of rock where the Troll's
cave was in which the Princess had been hid. For you must know the
hill stood straight up and down right on end, as upright as a house
wall, and as smooth as a sheet of glass.
The first time the lad went at it he got a little way up; but then
Dapple's forelegs slipped, and down they went again, with a sound like
thunder on the hill.
The second time he rode at it he got some way further up; but then one
foreleg slipped, and down they went with a crash like a landslip.
But the third time Dapple said:
"Now we must show our mettle," and went at it again till the stones
flew heaven-high about them, and so they got up.
Then the lad rode right into the cave at full speed, and caught up
the Princess, and threw her over his saddle-bow, and out and down
again before the Troll had time even to get on his legs; and so the
Princess was freed.
When the lad came back to the palace the king was both happy and glad
to get his daughter back, that you may well believe; but somehow or
other, though I don't know how, the others about the court had so
brought it about that the king was angry with the lad after all.
"Thanks you shall have for freeing my Princess," said he to the lad,
when he brought the Princess into the hall and made his bow.
"She ought to be mine as well as yours; for you're a word-fast man, I
hope," said the lad.
"Ay, ay!" said the king, "have her you shall, since I said it, but
first of all you must make the sun shine into my palace hall."
Now you must know there was a high, steep ridge of rock close outside
the windows, which threw such a shade over the hall that never a
sunbeam shone into it.
"That wasn't in our bargain," answered the lad; "but I suppose I must
do what you command. I must e'en go and try my luck, for the Princess
I must and will have."