brothers and the shepherd were about to marry those three maidens. On
the day appointed for the eldest brother's wedding he mounted the
white horse and flew down into the midst of the wedding-guests just as
they were leaving the church, and struck his brother lightly upon the
back with his club. The brother fell from his horse and the other flew
back to his watch-tower.
When the second brother's wedding-day came he again flew down upon his
steed, gave the second brother a blow upon the back, so that he fell
from his horse, and again flew away. But when he at last heard that
the shepherd was about to marry the third maiden he again mounted his
steed, flew among the wedding-guests just as they were coming out of
the church, and dealt the bridegroom such a blow upon the head with
his club that the fellow lay dead upon the spot.
In a trice the Prince was surrounded by the wedding-guests, who were
determined that he should not escape this time. He made no attempt to
do so, however, but remained where he was, made himself known as the
King's youngest son, revealed the trick his brothers had played upon
him by means of the shepherd, and told how they had left him in the
watch-tower where he had found his sister and killed the Dragon.
His sister and the maidens bore witness to the truth of his story, and
when the King heard all this he banished the two elder brothers from
his presence, married the youngest to the maiden of his choice, and
decreed that he should be heir to the throne after his own decease.
_The Lucky Coin_
Many years ago there lived in a hermitage a holy monk. From all the
villages around, the people, mostly poor labourers, were in the habit
of coming to him on Sundays and festivals to hear him say mass for
them. These good people used to bring little offerings of food for the
support of the hermit during the week.
One Sunday, after his congregation had departed, the monk perceived a
man, laden with traps and nets for catching birds, crossing the field
before the hermitage. The good monk went out to him.
"Where do you come from?" he inquired; "and what are you going to do,
my son?"
"I live some miles from here, good father," he replied, "and I have
borrowed a few nets and traps to try to catch some doves to sell, so
as to get a little butter for our bread; for with that and a draught
of water from the spring my wife and I are satisfied; or else to get
some work to do, that I may earn enough for our support, for we have
neither bread nor a single farthing to buy it."
The hermit took the man into his hermitage, and gave him the little
offerings of food which had been brought that morning by the
villagers, leaving Providence to provide for his own simple wants.
"Brother," he said, "take this for yourself and your wife; and if you
want money I will give you some. But you must first tell me which you
choose, to earn a single coin honestly, or a hundred, dishonestly."
The poor man hesitated, for great was the temptation.
"I will consult with my wife," he said at last, "and return to-morrow
to inform you."
With the food in his hands he returned to his miserable home, where he
and his wife made an excellent meal, for which they returned thanks to
Heaven. They then consulted together about the money, and, though the
temptation was great to take the hundred coins, yet, being God-fearing
folks, they decided upon taking the one coin honestly acquired and let
alone the hundred.
The man accordingly returned to the hermit, and told him what they had
decided.
The good monk gave him two half _reals_.
"Take this money," he said; "and may Heaven prosper you."
Full of joy, the man departed. But on the road home, in a solitary
spot, he encountered two lads fighting desperately; they were dealing
each other terrible blows, and blood was streaming down their faces.
The man rushed up to separate them, but all his efforts only served to
make them fiercer.
"Why do you fight like this?" he cried.
"We are fighting for that stone," replied one of the lads; "I saw it
first!"
"No, you didn't," replied the other; "it was I, and it belongs to me!"
and once more they fell to blows more desperate than before.
The poor man, fearing that the quarrel might end fatally, cried out to
them--
"Here, take each of you one of these coins, and let alone the stone;
it is of no value, for it is no bigger than a walnut. And be off with
you!"
The lads were glad to take the money, and ran away, thinking
themselves lucky to make so good a bargain.
His wife was at the cottage door impatiently awaiting her husband.
Great was her disappointment when all he brought her was a stone.
"Well, to be sure!" she cried, after he had recounted what had taken
place, "I _am_ disappointed." And, taking the little stone, she threw
it into a corner of the room.
"Dear wife," replied the man, "do not take it so to heart. The money
was spent in a good work; in making peace between the children of our
neighbours."
His wife at length became more reconciled to the loss, considering
that after all he had done right to make peace between their
neighbours' sons at any cost. Not many minutes after, the parents of
the two lads came to thank the man for having separated the boys. They
also thanked him for the money he had given to the boys, for they knew
he sorely needed it himself. Each of the parents gave him a present
for his friendly service; and from that day they always treated him
most kindly, and often gave him little jobs to do, so that the poor
couple never wanted bread.
Not long afterwards, it happened that the King's Ambassador passed
that way, with a great retinue of officials, secretaries, and
servitors; and it fell out that, night coming on, the Ambassador
decided upon taking his quarters in the village.
The village inns were small, and could not afford accommodation for so
large a retinue, and the various cottagers were asked to take in one
or more of the servants. Among those who gave lodgings to the retinue
were our good couple, who took in a lodger, for whom they were paid
handsomely. The wife quickly prepared a clean, tidy bed, and did her
best to make things comfortable.
The guest, being tired, was soon fast asleep. Toward morning he awoke,
and was surprised to see the chamber bathed in a resplendent light.
Knowing well that the people of the house could not afford a lamp or
candles, he arose to find out whence proceeded this unusual
brilliancy. Great was his astonishment to find that it proceeded from
a small stone in the corner of the room, which, as the sun struck on
it, sent out rays of vivid light. He took up the stone, and, believing
it to be of great value, took it to the Ambassador.
When the nobleman examined the stone, he admired it greatly, and
desired its owner to be sent for in order to learn all particulars
about it.
"Please, your Excellency," said the poor man, "it is of no use to us,
and if it pleases you, take it, for it cost me only a small coin"; and
he proceeded to relate how it had come into his possession.
The Ambassador drew forth a heavy bag of money, and taking out a
handful of gold pieces, gave them to the man.
"My good fellow," he said, "since you offer me the stone, I accept it
gladly; but as I am leaving the kingdom, and my expenses are very
heavy, I cannot give you all that it is worth. If it please Heaven, I
will return this way, and I will pay you then."
The poor man did not like to accept so much gold for what he judged to
be a worthless stone; but on the nobleman's entreaty he took the
money, and ran back to his wife, full of joy at his good fortune. Both
husband and wife then went at once to the hermit to recount to him all
that had taken place, and to offer him a tenth of the money. This he
refused to take, but bade them return to the village and distribute it
in alms to the poor. They returned to the village accordingly and did
as the monk had bidden them. They also gave part of the money to the
parents of the lads who had fought so desperately for the possession
of the stone. The rest the man spent in purchasing a piece of land.
This little plot of ground proved very fertile, and whatever the owner
planted produced a hundredfold. His trees were borne down by the
weight of the fruit, which always fetched a good price.
Years passed ere the Ambassador returned from the foreign country,
where he had gained high honours and wealth. On passing the village
again where he had obtained the stone, he inquired for the good man,
and was told how he had prospered with the money he had given him, and
that he was now a person of importance.
On arriving at the Court of his sovereign he recounted to the King all
that had taken place. The King was greatly pleased with the history of
the honestly earned coin, and had the stone valued by the first
jewellers of the kingdom, who all pronounced it to be a singularly
valuable gem. A large sum was given to the Ambassador for it, and he
was loaded with distinctions and honours. The nobleman, wishing to
show his gratitude for the honours conferred on him, sent handsome
presents to the good man and his wife.
And so it came to pass that they who had been honest were now
prosperous as well.
_The Jackal, the Barber and the Brahmin_
A barber and a Jackal once struck up a great friendship, which might
have continued to this day, had not the Jackal been so clever that the
Barber never felt quite on equal terms with him, and suspected his
friend of playing him many tricks. But this he was not able to prove.
One day the Jackal said to the Barber, "It would be a nice thing for
us to have a garden of our own, in which we might grow as many
cucumbers, pumpkins and melons as we like. Why should we not buy one?"
The Barber answered, "Very well; here is money. Do you go and buy us a
garden." So the Jackal took the Barber's money, and with it bought a
fine garden, in which were cucumbers, pumpkins, melons, figs, and many
other good fruits and vegetables. And he used to go there every day
and feast to his heart's content. When, however, the Barber said to
him, "What is the garden like which you bought with the money I gave
you?" he answered, "There are very fine plants in it, but there is no
fruit upon them; when the fruit is ripe I will let you know." This
reply satisfied the Barber, who inquired no further at that time.
A little while afterward, the Barber again asked the Jackal about the
garden, saying, "I see you go down to that garden every day; is the
fruit getting ripe?"
"Oh dear no, not yet," answered the Jackal; "why, the plants are only
just coming into blossom."
But all this time there was a great deal of fruit in the garden, and
the Jackal went there every day and ate as much as he could.
Again, a third time, when some weeks had passed, the Barber said to
him, "Is there no ripe fruit in our garden yet?"
"No," said the Jackal; "the blossoms have only just fallen, but the
fruit is forming. In time we shall have a fine show of melons and figs
there."
Then the Barber began to think the Jackal was deceiving him, and
determined to see and judge for himself. So next day, without saying
anything about it, he followed him down to the garden.
Now it happened that very day the Jackal had invited all his friends
to come and feast there. All the animals in the neighbouring jungle
had accepted the invitation; there they came trooping by hundreds and
dozens, and were very merry indeed--running here and there, and eating
all the melons and cucumbers and figs and pumpkins in the place.
The Barber peeped over the hedge, and saw the assembled wild beasts,
and his friend the Jackal entertaining them--talking to this one,
laughing with that, and eating with all. The good man did not dare to
attack the intruders, as they were many and powerful. But he went home
at once, very angry, muttering to himself, "I'll be the death of that
young jackanapes; he shall play no more pranks in my garden." And,
watching his opportunity, he returned there when the Jackal and all
his friends had left, and tied a long knife to the largest of the
cucumbers that still remained; then he went home and said nothing of
what he had seen.
Early next morning the Jackal thought to himself, "I'll just run down
to the garden and see if there are no cucumbers or melons left." So he
went there, and, picking out the largest of the cucumbers, began to
eat it. Quick as thought, the long knife, that was concealed by the
cucumber leaves, ran into him, cutting his muzzle, his neck and his
side.
"Ah, that nasty Barber!" he cried; "this must be his doing!" And
instead of going home, he ran as fast as he could, very far, far, away
into the jungle, and stretching himself out on a great flat rock,
prepared to die.
But he did not die. Only for three whole days the pain in his neck and
side was so great that he could not move; moreover, he felt very weak
from loss of blood.
At the end of the third day he tried to get up, but his own blood had
sealed him to the stone! He endeavoured to move it by his struggles,
but could not succeed. "Oh dear! oh dear!" he murmured; "to think that
I should recover from my wound, only to die such a horrible death as
this! Ah, me! here is the punishment of dishonesty!" And, having said
this, he began to weep. It chanced, however, that the god of Rain
heard his lamentations, and taking pity on the unfortunate animal, he
sent a kindly shower, which, wetting the stone, effected his release.
No sooner was the Jackal set free than he began to think what he could
do to earn a livelihood, since he did not dare return to the Barber's
house. It was not long before a feasible plan struck him: all around
was the mud made by the recent rain; he placed a quantity of it in a
small chattee, covered the top over carefully with leaves (as people
do jars of fresh butter), and took it into a neighbouring village to
sell.
At the door of one of the first houses to which he came stood a woman,
to whom the Jackal said, "Mahi, here is butter--beautiful fresh
butter! won't you buy some fresh butter?"
She answered, "Are you sure it is quite fresh? Let me see it."
But he replied, "It is perfectly fresh; but if you open the chattee
now, it will be all spoiled by the time you want it. If you like to
buy it, you may take it; if not, I will sell it to some one else."
The woman did want some fresh butter, and the chattee the Jackal
carried on his head was carefully fastened up, as if what it contained
was of the best; and she knew if she opened it, it might spoil before
her husband returned home; besides, she thought, if the Jackal had
intended to deceive her, he would have been more pressing in asking
her to buy it. So she said, "Very well, give me the chattee; here is
money for you. You are sure it is the best butter?"
"It is the best of its kind," answered the Jackal; "only be sure you
put it in some cool place, and don't open it till it is wanted." And
taking the money, he ran away.
A short time afterward the woman discovered how she had been cheated,
and was very angry, but the Jackal was by that time far away, out of
reach of punishment.
When his money was spent, the Jackal felt puzzled as to how to get a
living, since no one would give him food and he could buy none.
Fortunately for him, just then one of the bullocks belonging to the
village died. The Jackal found it lying dead by the roadside, and he
began to eat it, and ate, and ate so much that at last he had got too
far into the animal's body to be seen by passers-by. Now, the weather
was hot and dry. Whilst the Jackal was in it, the bullock's skin
crinkled up so tightly with the heat that it became too hard for him
to bite through, and so he could not get out again.
The Mahars of the village all came out to bury the dead bullock. The
Jackal, who was inside it, feared that if they caught him they would
kill him, and that if they did not discover him, he would be buried
alive; so on their approach he called out, "People, people, take care
how you touch me, for I am a great saint." The poor people were very
much frightened when they heard the dead bullock talking, and thought
that some mighty spirit must indeed possess it.
"Who are you, sir, and what do you want?" they cried.
"I," answered the Jackal, "am a very holy saint. I am also the god of
your village, and I am very angry with you because you never worship
me nor bring me offerings."
"O my Lord," they cried, "what offerings will please you? Tell us
only, and we will bring you whatever you like."
"Good," he replied. "Then you must fetch here plenty of rice, plenty
of flowers and a nice fat chicken; place them as an offering beside
me, and pour a great deal of water over them, as you do at your most
solemn feasts, and I will forgive you your sins." The Mahars did as
they were commanded. They placed some rice and flowers, and the best
chicken they could procure, beside the bullock, and poured water over
it and the offering. Then, no sooner did the dry, hard Bullock's skin
get wetted than it split in many places, and to the surprise of all
his worshippers, the Jackal jumped out, seized the chicken in his
mouth, and ran away with it through the midst of them into the jungle.
The Mahars ran after him over hedges and ditches for many, many miles,
but he got away in spite of them all.
On, on he ran--on, on, for a very long way--until at last he came to a
place where a little kid lived under a little sicakai tree. All her
relations and friends were away, and when she saw him coming she
thought to herself, "Unless I frighten this Jackal, he will eat me."
So she ran as hard as she could up against the sicakai tree, which
made all the branches shake and the leaves go rustle, rustle, rustle.
And when the Jackal heard the rustling noise he got frightened, and
thought it was all the little kid's friends coming to help her. And
she called out to him, "Run away, Jackal, run away. Thousands and
thousands of Jackals have run away at that sound--run away for your
life." And the Jackal was so frightened that he ran away. So, he who
had deceived so many was outwitted by a simple little kid!
After this the Jackal found his way back to his own village, where the
Barber lived, and there for some time he used to prowl round the
houses every night and live upon any bones he could find. The
villagers did not like his coming, but did not know how to catch him,
until one night his old friend the Barber (who had never forgiven him
for stealing the fruit from the garden) caught him in a great net,
having before made many unsuccessful attempts to do so. "Aha!" cried
the Barber, "I've got you at last, my friend. You did not escape death
from the cucumber-knife for nothing! you won't get away this time.
Here, wife! wife! see what a prize I've got." The Barber's wife came
running to the door, and the Barber gave her the Jackal (after he had
tied all his four legs firmly together with a strong rope), and said
to her, "Take this animal into the house, and be sure you don't let
him escape, while I go and get a knife to kill him with."
The Barber's wife did as she was bid, and taking the Jackal into the
house, laid him down on the floor. But no sooner had the Barber gone
than the Jackal said to her, "Ah, good woman, your husband will return
directly and put me to death. For the love of heaven, loosen the rope
round my feet before he comes, for one minute only, and let me drink a
little water from that puddle by the door, for my throat is parched
with thirst."
"No, no, friend Jackal," answered the Barber's wife. "I know well
enough what you'll do. No sooner shall I have untied your feet than
you will run away, and when my husband returns and finds you are gone,
he will beat me."
"Indeed, indeed, I will not run away," he replied. "Ah, kind mother,
have pity on me, only for one little moment."
Then the Barber's wife thought, "Well, it is hard not to grant the
poor beast's last request; he will not live long enough to have many
more pleasures." So she untied the Jackal's legs and held him by a
rope, that he might drink from the puddle. But quick as possible, he
gave a jump and a twist and a pull, and, jerking the rope out of her
hand, escaped once more into the jungle.
For some time he roamed up and down, living on what he could get in
this village or that, until he had wandered very far away from the
country where the Barber lived. At last one day, by chance, he passed
a certain cottage, in which there dwelt a very poor Brahmin, who had
seven daughters.
As the Jackal passed by, the Brahmin was saying to himself, "Oh, dear
me! what can I do for my seven daughters? I shall have to support them
all my life, for they are much too poor ever to get married. If a dog
or a jackal were to offer to take one off my hands, he should have
her."
Next day the Jackal called on the Brahmin, and said to him, "You said
yesterday, if a Jackal or a dog were to offer to marry one of your
daughters, you would let him have her; will you, therefore accept me
as a son-in-law?"
The poor Brahmin felt very much embarrassed, but it was certain he had
said the words, and therefore he felt in honour bound not to retract,
although he had little dreamed of ever being placed in such a
predicament. Just at that moment all the seven daughters began crying
for bread, and the father had no bread to give them.
Observing this, the Jackal continued, "Let me marry one of your seven
daughters and I will take care of her. It will at least leave you one
less to provide for, and I will see that she never needs food."
Then the Brahmin's heart was softened, and he gave the Jackal his
eldest daughter in marriage, and the Jackal took her home to his den
in the high rocks.
Now you will say there never was a Jackal so clever as this. Very
true, for this was not a common Jackal, or he could never have done
all that I have told you. This Jackal was, in fact, a great Rajah in
disguise, who, to amuse himself, took the form of a Jackal; for he was
a great magician as well as a great prince.
The den to which he took the Brahmin's daughter looked like quite a
common hole in the rocks on the outside, but inside it was a splendid
palace, adorned with silver, and gold, and ivory and precious stones.
But even his own wife did not know that he was not always a Jackal,
for the Rajah never took his human form except every morning very
early, when he used to take off the Jackal skin and wash it and brush
it, and put it on again.
After he and his wife, the Brahmin's daughter, had lived up in their
home in the rocks happily for some time, who should the Jackal see one
day but his father-in-law, the old Brahmin, climbing up the hill to
come and pay him a visit. The Jackal was vexed to see the Brahmin, for
he knew he was very poor, and thought he had most likely come to beg;
and so it was. The Brahmin said to him, "Son-in-law, let me come into
your cave and rest a little while. I want to ask you to help me, for I
am very poor and much in need of help."
"Don't go into my cave," said the Jackal; "it is but a poor hole, not
fit for you to enter" (for he did not wish his father-in-law to see
his fine palace); "but I will call my wife, that you may see I have
not eaten her up, and she and you and I will talk over the matter, and
see what we can do for you."
So the Brahmin, the Brahmin's daughter and the Jackal all sat down on
the hillside together, and the Brahmin said, "I don't know what to do
to get food for myself, my wife, and my six daughters. Son-in-law
Jackal, cannot you help me?"
"It is a difficult business," answered the Jackal, "but I'll do what I
can for you;" and he ran to his cave and fetched a large melon, and
gave it to the Brahmin, saying, "Father-in-law, you must take this
melon, and plant it in your garden, and when it grows up sell all the
fruit you find upon it, and that will bring you in some money." So the
Brahmin took the melon home with him and planted it in his garden.
By next day the melon that the Jackal had given him had grown up in
the Brahmin's garden into a fine plant, covered with hundreds of
beautiful ripe melons. The Brahmin, his wife and family were overjoyed
at the sight. And all the neighbours were astonished, and said, "How
fast that fine melon plant has grown in the Brahmin's garden!"