the water’s edge, and then disappeared behind a tree. And what do you
think he saw? He saw a sight which would have delighted your eyes
also--two golden-haired children were lying in the grass, and the goat
went right up to them and gave them to suck. Then she bleated to them a
little, and so left them and went off to graze. And the old man was so
delighted at the sight of the little starry things, that he was like to
have lost his head for joy. So he took the little ones (Allah had not
blessed him with children of his own) and carried them to his hut and
gave them to his wife. The woman was filled with a still greater joy at
the children which Allah had given her, and took care of them, and
brought them up. But now the little goat came bleating in as if in sore
distress, but the moment she saw the children, she went to them and
suckled them, and then went out to graze again.
But time comes and goes. The two wondrous children grew up and scampered
up hill and down dale, and the dark woods were bright with the radiance
of their golden hair. They hunted the wild beasts, tended sheep, and
helped the old people by word and deed. Time came and went till the
children had grown up, and the old people had become very old indeed.
The golden-haired ones grew in strength while the silver-haired ones
grew in feebleness, till, at last, one morning they lay dead there, and
the brother and sister were left all alone. Sorely did the poor little
things weep and wail, but was ever woe mended by weeping? So they buried
their old parents, and the girl stayed at home with the little she-goat,
while the lad went a-hunting, for how to find food was now their great
care and their little care too.
One day, while he was hunting wild beasts in the forest, he met his
father, the Padishah, but he did not know it was his father, neither did
the father recognize his son. Yet the moment the Padishah beheld the
wondrously beautiful child, he longed to clasp him to his breast, and
commanded those about him to inquire of the child from whence he came.
Then one of the courtiers went up to the youth, and said: “Thou hast
shot much game there, my Bey!”--“Allah also has created much,” replied
the youth, “and there is enough for thee and for me also,” and with that
he left him like a blockhead.
But the Padishah went back to his palace, and was sick at heart because
of the boy; and when they asked what ailed him, he said that he had
seen such a wondrously beautiful child in the forest, and that he loved
him so that he could rest no more. The boy had the very golden hair and
the same radiant forehead that his wife had promised him.
The old woman was sore afraid at these words. She hastened to the
stream, saw the house, peeped in, and there sat a lovely girl, like a
moon fourteen days old. The girl entreated the old woman courteously,
and asked her what she sought. The old woman did not wait to be asked
twice; indeed, her foot was scarce across the threshold when she began
to ask the girl with honey-sweet words whether she lived all alone.
“Nay, my mother,” replied the girl; “I have a young brother. In the
day-time he goes hunting, and in the evening he comes home.”
“Dost thou not grow weary of being all alone here by thyself?” inquired
the witch.--“If even I did,” said the girl, “what can I do? I must fill
up my time as best I may.”
“Tell me now, my little diamond! dost thou dearly love this brother of
thine?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, then, my girl,” said the witch, “I’ll tell thee something, but
don’t let it go any further! When thy brother comes home this evening,
fall to weeping and wailing, and keep it up with all thy might. When
then he asks what ails thee, answer him not, and when he asks thee
again, again give him never a word. When, however, he asks thee a third
time, say that thou art tired to death with staying at home here all by
thyself, and that if he loves thee, he will go to the garden of the
Queen of the Peris, and bring thee from thence a branch. A lovelier
branch thou hast never seen all thy life long.”--The girl promised she
would do this, and the old woman went away.
Towards evening the damsel burst forth a-weeping and wailing till both
her eyes were as red as blood. The brother came home in the evening, and
was amazed to see his sister in such dire distress, yet could he not
prevail upon her to tell him the cause of it. He promised her all the
grass of the field and all the trees of the forest if she would only
tell him what was the matter, and, to satisfy the desire of his sister’s
heart, the golden-haired youth set off next morning for the garden of
the fairy queen. He went on and on, smoking his chibook and drinking
coffee, till he reached the boundaries of the fairy realm. He came to
deserts where no caravan had ever gone; he came to mountains where no
bird could ever fly; he came to valleys where no serpent can ever crawl.
But his trust was in Allah, so he went on and on till he came to an
immense desert which the eye of man had never seen nor the foot of man
trodden. In the midst of it was a beautiful palace, and by the roadside
sat the Mother of Devils, and the smell of her was as the pestilence in
the air all round about her.
The youth went straight up to the Mother of Devils, hugged her to his
breast, kissed her all over, and said: “Good-day, little mother mine! I
am thine own true lad till death!” and he kissed her hand.
“A good-day to thee also, my little son!” replied the Mother of Devils.
“If thou hadst not called me thy dear little mother, if thou hadst not
embraced me, and if thy innocent mother had not been under the earth, I
would have devoured thee at once. But tell me now, my little son,
whither away?”
The poor youth said that he wanted a branch from the garden of the Queen
of the Peris.
“Who put that word in thy mouth, my little son?” asked the woman in
amazement. “Hundreds and hundreds of talismans guard that garden, and
hundreds of souls have perished there by reason thereof.”
Yet the youth did not hold back. “I can but die once,” thought
he.--“Thou dost but go to salute thy innocent, buried mother,” said the
old woman; and then she made the youth sit down beside her and taught
him the way: “Set out on thy quest at daybreak, and never stop till
thou dost see right in front of thee a well and a forest. Draw forth
thine arrows in this forest and catch five to ten birds, but catch them
alive. Take these birds to the well, and when thou hast recited a prayer
twice over, plunge the birds into the well and cry aloud for a key. A
key will straightway be cast out of the well, take it to thee, and go on
thy way. Thou wilt come presently to a large cavern; open the door
thereof with thy key, and, as soon as thy foot is inside, stretch forth
thy right hand into the blank darkness, grip fast hold of whatever thy
hand shall touch, drag the thing quickly forth, and cast the key back
into the well again. But look not behind thee all the time, or Allah
have mercy on thy soul!”
Next day, when the red dawn was in the sky, the youth went forth on his
quest, caught the five to ten birds in the forest, got hold of the key,
opened therewith the door of the cavern, and--oh, Allah!--stretched
forth his right hand, gripped hold of something, and, without once
looking behind him, dragged it all the way to his sister’s hut, and
never stopped till he got there. Only then did he cast his eyes upon
what he had in his hand, and it was neither more nor less than a branch
from the garden of the Queen of the Peris. But what a branch it was! It
was full of little twigs, and the twigs were full of little leaves, and
there was a little bird on every little leaf, and every little bird had
a song of its own. Such music, such melody was there as would have
brought even a dead man to life again. The whole hut was filled with
joy.
Next day the youth again went forth to hunt, and, as he was pursuing the
beast of the forest, the Padishah saw him again. He exchanged a word or
two with the youth, and then returned to his palace, but he was now
sicker than ever, by reason of his love for his son.
Then the old woman strolled off to the hut again, and there she saw the
damsel sitting with the magic branch in her hand.
“Well, my girl!” said the old woman, “what did I tell thee? But that’s
nothing at all. If thy brother would only fetch thee the mirror of the
Queen of the Peris, Allah knows that thou wouldst cast that branch right
away. Give him no peace till he get it for thee.”
The witch had no sooner departed than the damsel began screaming and
wailing so that her brother was at his wit’s end how to comfort her. He
said he would take the whole world on his shoulders to please her, went
straight off to the Mother of Devils, and besought her so earnestly that
she had not the heart to say him nay.
“Thou hast made up thy mind to go under the sod to thy innocent, buried
mother, I see,” cried she, “for not by hundreds but by thousands have
human souls perished in this quest of thine.” Then she instructed the
youth whither he should go and what he should do, and he set off on his
way. He took an iron staff in his hand and tied iron sandals to his
feet, and he went on and on till he came to two doors, as the Mother of
Devils told him he would beforehand. One of these doors was open, the
other was closed. He closed the open door and opened the closed door,
and there, straight before him, was another door. In front of this door
was a lion and a sheep, and there was grass before the lion and flesh
before the sheep. He took up the flesh and laid it before the lion, then
he took up the grass and laid it before the sheep, and they let him
enter unharmed. But now he came to a third door, and in front of it were
two furnaces, and fire burned in the one and ashes smouldered in the
other. He put out the flaming furnace, stirred up the cinders in the
smouldering furnace till they blazed again, and then through the door he
went into the garden of the Peris, and from the garden into the Peri
palace. He snatched up the enchanted mirror, and was hastening away with
it when a mighty voice cried out against him so that the earth and the
heavens trembled. “Burning furnace, seize him, seize him!” cried the
voice, just as he came up to the furnace.
“I can’t,” answered the first furnace, “for he has put me out!” But the
other furnace was grateful to him for kindling it into a blaze again, so
it let him pass by too.
“Lion, lion, tear him to pieces!” cried the mighty voice from the depths
of the palace, when the youth came up to the two beasts.
“Not I,” answered the lion, “for he helped me to a good meal of
flesh!”--Nor would the sheep hurt him either, because he had given it
the grass.--“Open door! let him not out!” cried the voice from within
the palace.--“Nay, but I will!” replied the door; “for had he not opened
me I should be closed still!”--and so the golden-haired youth was not
very long in getting home, to the great joy of his sister. She snatched
at the mirror and instantly looked into it, and--Allah be praised!--she
saw the whole world in it. Then the damsel thought no more of the
Peribranch, for her eyes were glued to the mirror.
Again the youth went a-hunting, and again he caught the eye of the
Padishah. But the sight of the youth this third time so touched the
fatherly heart of the Padishah that they carried him back to his palace
half fainting. Then the witch guessed only too well how matters stood.
So she arose and went to the damsel, and so filled her foolish little
head with her tales that she persuaded her not to give her brother rest
day and night till he had brought her the Queen of the Peris herself.
“That’ll make him break his hatchet anyhow!” thought the old woman. But
the damsel rejoiced beforehand at the thought of having the Queen of the
Peris also, and in her impatience could scarce wait for her brother to
come home.
When her brother came home she shed as many tears as if she were a cloud
dripping rain. In vain her brother tried to prove to her how distant and
how dangerous was the way she would fain have him go. “I want the Queen
of the Peris, and have her I must,” cried the damsel.
So again the youth set out on his journey, went straight to the Mother
of Devils, pressed her hand, kissed her lips, pressed her lips and
kissed her hand, and said: “Oh, my mother! help me in this my sore
need!” The Mother of Devils was amazed at the valour of the man, and
never ceased dissuading him from his purpose, for every human soul that
goes on such a quest must needs perish.--“Die I may, little mother!”
cried the youth, “but I will not come back without her.”
So what could the Mother of Devils do but show him the way? “Go the same
road,” said she, “that led thee to the branch, and then go on to where
thou didst find the mirror. Thou wilt come at last to a large desert,
and beyond the desert thou wilt see two roads, but look neither to the
right hand nor yet to the left, but go right on through the sooty
darkness betwixt them. When now it begins to grow a little lighter, thou
wilt see a large cypress wood, and in this cypress wood a large tomb. In
this tomb, turned to stone, are all those who ever desired the Queen of
the Peris. Stop not there, but go right on to the palace of the Queen of
the Peris and call out her name with the full strength of thy lungs.
What will happen to thee after that not even I can tell thee.”
Next day the youth set out on his journey. He prayed by the wayside
well, opened all the gates he came to, and, looking neither to the right
hand nor to the left, went on straight before him through the sooty
darkness. All at once it began to grow a little lighter, and a large
cypress wood appeared right in front of him. The leaves of the trees
were of a burning green, and their drooping crowns hid snow-white tombs.
Nay, but they were not tombs, but stones as big as men. Nay, but they
were not stones at all, but men who had turned, who had stiffened, into
stone. There was neither man, nor spirit, nor noise, nor breath of wind,
and the youth froze with horror to his very marrow. Nevertheless he
plucked up his courage and went on his way. He looked straight before
him all the time, and his eyes were almost blinded by a dazzling light.
Was it the sun he saw? No, it was the palace of the Queen of the Peris!
Then he rallied all the strength that was left in him and shouted the
name of the Queen of the Peris with all his might, and the words had not
yet died away upon his lips when his whole body up to his knee-cap
stiffened into stone. Again he shouted with all his might, and he turned
to stone up to his navel. Then he shouted for the last time with all his
might, and stiffened up to his throat first and then up to his head,
till he became a tombstone like the rest.
But now the Queen of the Peris came into her garden, and she had silver
sandals on her feet and a golden saucer in her hand, and she drew water
from a diamond fountain, and when she watered the stone youth, life and
motion came back to him.
“Well, thou youth thou,” said the Queen of the Peris, “‘tis not enough,
then, that thou hast taken away my Peri branch and my magic mirror, but
thou must needs, forsooth, venture hither a third time! Thou shalt share
the fate of thy innocent buried mother, stone thou shalt become and
stone shalt thou remain. What brought thee hither?--speak!”
“I came for thee,” replied the youth very courageously.
“Well, as thou hast loved me so exceedingly, no harm shall befall thee,
and we will go away together.”
Then the youth begged her to have compassion on all the men she had
turned to stone and give them back their lives again. So the Peri
returned to her palace, packed up her baggage, which was small in weight
but priceless in value, filled the little golden saucer with water, and
sprinkled therewith all the stones and the whole multitude of the stones
became men. They all took horse, and as they quitted the Peri realm, the
earth trembled beneath them and the sky was shaken as if the seven
worlds and the seven heavens were mingled together, so that the youth
would have died of fright if the Queen of the Peris had not been by his
side. Never once did they look behind them, but galloped on and on till
they came to the house of the youth’s sister, and such was their joy and
gladness at seeing each other again that place could scarce be found for
the Queen of the Peris. But now the youth was in no great hurry to go
hunting as before, for he had changed hearts with the lovely Queen of
the Peris, and she was his and he was hers.
Now when the Queen of the Peris had heard the history of the children
and their parents, and the fate of their innocent mother, she said one
morning to the youth: “Go a-hunting in the forest, and thou wilt meet
the Padishah. The first thing he will do will be to invite thee to the
palace, but beware lest thou accept his invitation.” And so indeed it
turned out. Scarcely had he taken a turn in the wood than the Padishah
stood before him, and, one word leading to another, he invited the youth
to his palace, but the youth would not go.
Early next morning the Peri awoke the children, clapped her hands
together and called her Lala,[9] and immediately a huge negro sprang up
before them. So big was he that one of his lips touched the sky while
the other swept the earth. “What dost thou command me, my Sultana?”
cried the Lala.
“Fetch me hither my father’s steed!” commanded the Peri.
The negro vanished like a hurricane, and, a moment afterwards, the steed
stood before them, and the like of it was not to be found in the wide
world.
The youth leaped upon the horse, and the splendid suite of the Padishah
was already waiting for him at the roadside.
But--O Allah, forgive me!--I have forgotten the best of the story. The
Peri charged the youth as he quitted her to take heed, while he was in
the palace of the Padishah, to the neighing of his horse. At the first
neighing he was to hasten back.
So the youth went to meet the Padishah on his diamond-bridled charger,
and behind him came a gay and gallant retinue. He saluted the people on
the right hand and on the left all the way to the palace, and there they
welcomed him with a pomp the like of which was never known before. They
ate and drank and made merry till the Padishah could scarce contain
himself for joy, but then the steed neighed, the youth arose, and all
their entreaties to him to stay could not turn him from his set purpose.
He mounted his horse, invited the Padishah to be his guest on the
following day, and returned home to the Peri and his own sister.
Meanwhile the Peri dug up the mother of the children, and so put her to
rights again by her Peri arts that she became just as she was in the
days of her first youth. But she spake not a word about the mother to
the children, nor a word about the children to the mother. On the
morning of the reception of guests she rose up early and commanded that
on the spot where the little hut stood a palace should rise, the like of
which eye hath never seen nor ear heard of, and there were as many
precious stones heaped up there as were to be found in the whole
kingdom. And then the garden that surrounded that palace! There were
multitudes of flowers, each one lovelier than the other, and on every
flower there was a singing bird, and every bird had feathers aglow with
light, so that one could only look at it all open-mouthed and cry: “Oh!
oh!” And the palace itself was full of domestics, there were black harem
slaves, and white captive youths, and dancers and singers, and players
of stringed instruments--more than thou canst count, count thou never so
much, and words cannot tell of the splendour of the retinue which went
forth to greet the Padishah as a guest.
“These children are not of mortal birth!” thought the Padishah to
himself, when he beheld all these marvels, “or if they _are_ of mortal
birth a Peri must have had a hand in the matter.”
They led the Padishah into the most splendid room of the palace, they
brought him coffee and sherbet, and then the music spoke to him, and the
singing birds--oh! a man could have listened to them for ever and ever!
Then rich meats on rare and precious dishes were set before him, and
then the dancers and the jugglers diverted him till the evening.
At eventide the servants came and bowed before the Padishah and said:
“My lord! peace be with thee! They await thee in the harem!” So he
entered the harem, and there he saw before him the golden-haired youth,
with a beautiful half-moon shining on his forehead, and his bride, the
Peri-Queen, and his own consort, the Sultana, who had been buried in
the earth, and by her side a golden-haired maiden with a star sparkling
on her forehead. There stood the Padishah as if turned to stone, but his
consort ran up to him and kissed the edge of his garment, and the
Peri-Queen began to tell him the whole of her life and how everything
had happened.
The Padishah was nigh to dying in the fulness of his joy. He could
scarce believe his eyes, but he pressed his consort to his breast and
embraced the two beauteous children, and the Queen of the Peris
likewise. He forgave the sisters of the Sultana their offences, but the
old witch was mercilessly destroyed by lingering tortures. But he and
his consort and her son and the Queen of the Peris, and his daughter,
and his daughter’s bridegroom sat down to a great banquet and made
merry. Forty days and forty nights they feasted, and the blessing of
Allah was upon them.
THE HORSE-DEVIL AND THE WITCH
There was once upon a time a Padishah who had three daughters. One day
the old father made him ready for a journey, and calling to him his
three daughters straightly charged them to feed and water his favourite
horse, even though they neglected everything else. He loved the horse so
much that he would not suffer any stranger to come near it.
So the Padishah went on his way, but when the eldest daughter brought
the fodder into the stable the horse would not let her come near him.
Then the middling daughter brought the forage, and he treated her
likewise. Last of all the youngest daughter brought the forage, and when
the horse saw her he never budged an inch, but let her feed him and then
return to her sisters. The two elder sisters were content that the
youngest should take care of the horse, so they troubled themselves
about it no more.
The Padishah came home, and the first thing he asked was whether they
had provided the horse with everything. “He wouldn’t let us come near
him,” said the two elder sisters; “it was our youngest sister here who
took care of him.”
No sooner had the Padishah heard this than he gave his youngest daughter
to the horse to wife, but his two other daughters he gave to the sons of
his Chief Mufti and his Grand Vizier, and they celebrated the three
marriages at a great banquet, which lasted forty days. Then the youngest
daughter turned into the stable, but the two eldest dwelt in a splendid
palace. In the daytime the youngest sister had only a horse for a
husband and a stable for a dwelling; but in the night-time the stable
became a garden of roses, the horse-husband a handsome hero, and they
lived in a world of their own. Nobody knew of it but they two. They
passed the day together as best they could, but eventide was the time of
their impatient desires.
One day the Padishah held a tournament in the palace. Many gallant
warriors entered the lists, but none strove so valiantly as the husbands
of the Sultan’s elder daughters.
“Only look now!” said the two elder daughters to their sister who dwelt
in the stable, “only look now! how our husbands overthrow all the other
warriors with their lances; our two lords are not so much lords as
lions! Where is this horse-husband of thine, prythee?”
On hearing this from his wife, the horse-husband shivered all over,
turned into a man, threw himself on horseback, told his wife not to
betray him on any account, and in an instant appeared within the lists.
He overthrew every one with his lance, unhorsed his two brothers-in-law,
and re-appeared in the stable again as if he had never left it.
The next day, when the sports began again, the two elder sisters mocked
as before, but then the unknown hero appeared again, conquered and
vanished. On the third day the horse-husband said to his wife: “If ever
I should come to grief or thou shouldst need my help, take these three
wisps of hair, burn them, and it will help thee wherever thou art.” With
that he hastened to the games again and triumphed over his
brothers-in-law. Every one was amazed at his skill, the two elder
sisters likewise, and again they said to their younger sister: “Look how
these heroes excel in prowess! They are very different to thy dirty
horse-husband!”
The girl could not endure standing there with nothing to say for
herself, so she told her sisters that the handsome hero was no other
than her horse-husband--and no sooner had she pointed at him than he
vanished from before them as if he had never been. Then only did she
call to mind her lord’s command to her not to betray her secret, and
away she hurried off to the stable. But ’twas all in vain, neither horse
nor man came to her, and at midnight there was neither rose nor
rose-garden.