good thou hast done to me, ask me what thou wilt for it!”--“I ask nought
from thee,” replied the King’s son, “but thy youngest daughter.”
“Alas! my son, ask me anything but that,” sighed the Padishah. “Ask my
crown, my kingdom, and I’ll give them to thee, but my daughter I cannot
give thee.”
“If thou givest me thy daughter I will take her,” replied the King’s
son, “but nought else will I take from thy hand.”
“My son,” groaned the Padishah, “I will give thee my eldest daughter,
I’ll give thee my second daughter, nay, I’ll give thee the pair of them
if thou wilt. But my youngest daughter has a deadly enemy, the
Wind-Demon. Because I would not give her to him, I must needs fence her
room about with walls of steel, lest any of the devil race draw near to
her. For the Wind-Demon is such a terrible monster that eye cannot see
nor dart overtake him; like the tempest he flies, and his coming is like
the coming of a whirlwind.”
But whatever the Padishah might say to turn him from seeking after the
damsel fell on deaf ears. He begged and pleaded so hard for the damsel
that the Padishah was wearied by his much speaking, and promised him the
damsel, nay they held the bridal banquet. The two elder brothers
received the two elder damsels, and returned to their kingdom, but the
youngest brother remained behind to guard his wife against the
Wind-Demon.
Time came and went, and the King’s son avoided the light of day for the
sake of his lovely Sultana. One day, however, the King’s son said to his
wife: “Behold now, my Sultana, all this time I have never moved from thy
side, methinks I will go a-hunting, though it only be for a little hour
or so.”
“Alas! my King,” replied his wife, “if thou dost depart from me, I know
that thou wilt never see me more.” But as he begged her for leave again
and again, and promised to be back again immediately, his wife
consented. Then he took his weapons and went forth into the forest.
Now the Wind-Demon had been awaiting this chance all along. He feared
the famous prince, and durst not snatch his wife from his arms; but as
soon as ever the King’s son had put his foot out of doors, the
Wind-Demon came in and vanished with the wife of the King’s son.
Not very long afterwards the King’s son came back, and could find his
wife nowhere. He went to the Padishah to seek her, and came back again,
for it was certain that the Demon must have taken her, no other living
soul could have got near her. Bitterly did he weep, fiercely did he dash
himself against the floor, but then he quickly rose up again, took
horse, and galloped away into the wide world, determined to find either
death or his consort.
He went on for days, he went on for weeks, in his trouble and anguish he
gave himself no rest. All at once a palace sprang up before him, but it
seemed to him like a mirage, which baffles the eye that looks upon it.
It was the palace of his eldest sister. The damsel was just then looking
out of the window, and lo! she caught sight of a man wandering there
where never a bird had flown and never a caravan had travelled. Then she
recognized him as her brother, and so great was their mutual joy that
they could not come to words for hugging and kissing.
Towards evening the damsel said to the King’s son: “The lion will be
here shortly, and although he is very good to me, he is only a brute
beast for all that, and may do thee a mischief.” And she took her
brother and hid him.
[Illustration: The King’s Son and the Lion.--p. 121.]
In the evening the lion came home sure enough, and when they had sat
down together and begun to talk, the girl asked him what he would do if
any of her brothers should chance to come there. “If the eldest were to
come,” said the lion, “I would strike him dead with one blow, if the
second came I would slay him also, but if the youngest came, I would let
him go to sleep on my paws if he liked.”
“Then he has come,” said his wife.
“Where is he--where is he? Bring him out, let me see him!” cried the
lion; and when the King’s son appeared, the lion did not know what to do
with himself for joy. Then they began to talk, and the lion asked him
why he had come there, and whither he was going. The youth told him what
had happened, and said he was going to seek the Wind-Demon.
“I know but the rumour of him,” said the lion; “but take my word for it,
thou hadst better have nothing to do with him, for there is none that
can cope with the Wind-Demon.” But the King’s son would not listen to
reason, remained there that night, and next morning mounted his horse
again. The lion accompanied him to show him the right way, and then they
parted, one going to the right and the other to the left.
Again he went on and on, till he saw another palace, and this was the
palace of his middling sister. The damsel saw from the window that a
man was on the road, and no sooner did she recognize him than she rushed
out to meet him, and led him into the palace. Full of joy, they
conversed together till the evening, and then the damsel said to the
youth: “In a short time my tiger-husband will be here, I’ll hide thee
from him, lest a mischief befall thee,” and she took her brother and hid
him.
In the evening the tiger came home, and while they talked together his
wife asked him what he would do if any of her brothers should chance to
look in upon them.
“If the elder were to come,” said the tiger, “I would strike them dead,
but if the youngest came, I would go down on my knees before him.”
Whereupon the damsel called to her youngest brother, the King’s son, to
come forth. The tiger was overjoyed to see him, welcomed him as a
brother, and asked him whence he came and whither he was going. Then the
King’s son told the tiger of all his trouble, and asked him whether he
knew the Wind-Demon. “Only by hearsay,” replied the tiger; and then he
tried to persuade the King’s son not to go, for the danger was great.
But the red dawn had no sooner appeared than the King’s son was ready to
set out again. The tiger showed him the way, and the one went back and
the other went forward.
He pursued his way, and it was endlessly long, but time passes quickly
in a fairy tale, and at last a dark object stood out against him. “What
can it be?” thought he, but when he drew nearer he saw that it was a
palace. It was the abode of his youngest sister. The damsel was just
then looking out of the window. “Alas! my brother!” cried she, and very
nearly fell out of the window for pure joy. Then she led him into the
house. The youth rejoiced that he had found all his sisters so well, but
the lack of his wife was still a weight upon his heart.
Now when evening was drawing nigh the girl said to her brother: “My
bird-husband will be here anon; conceal thyself from him, for if he see
thee he will tear thy heart out,” and with that she took her brother and
hid him.
And now there was a great clapping of wings, and the Anka had scarce
rested a while when his wife asked him what he would do if any of her
brothers came to see them.
“As to the two elder,” said the bird, “I would take them in my mouth,
fly up to the sky with them, and cast them down from thence; but if the
youngest were to come, I would let him sit down on my wings and go to
sleep there if he liked.” Then the girl called forth her youngest
brother.
“Alas! my dear little child,” cried the bird, “how didst thou find thy
way hither? Wert thou not afraid of the long journey?”
The youth told what had happened to him, and asked the Anka whether he
could help him to get to the Wind-Demon.
“It is no easy matter,” said the bird; “but even if thou couldst get to
him, I would counsel thee to let it alone and stay rather among us.”
“Not I,” replied the resolute youth; “I will either release my wife or
perish there!” Then the Anka saw that he could not turn him from his
purpose, and began to explain to him all about the palace of the
Wind-Demon. “He is now asleep,” said the Anka, “and thou mayest be able
to carry off thy wife; but if he should awake and see thee, he will
without doubt grind thee to atoms. Guard against him thou cannot, for
eye cannot see and fire cannot harm him, so look well to thyself!”
So next day the youth set out on his journey, and when he had gone on
and on for a long, long time, he saw before him a vast palace that had
neither door nor chimney, nor length nor breadth. It was the palace of
the Wind-Demon. His wife chanced just then to be sitting at the window,
and when she saw her husband she leaped clean out of the window to him.
The King’s son caught his wife in his arms, and there were no bounds to
their joy and their tears, till at last the girl bethought her of the
terrible demon.
“This is now the third day that he has slept,” cried she; “let us hasten
away before the fourth day is spent also.” So they mounted, whipped up
their horses, and were already well on their way when the Wind-Demon
awoke on the fourth day. Then he went to the girl’s door and bade her
open, that he might at least see her face for a brief moment. He waited,
but he got no answer. Then, auguring some evil, he beat in the door, and
lo! the place where the damsel should have lain was cold.
“So-ho, Prince Mehmed!” cried he, “thou hast come here, eh, and stolen
away my Sultana? Well, wait a while! go thy way, whip up thy fleet
steed! for I’ll catch thee up in the long run.” And with that he sat
down at his ease, drank his coffee, smoked his chibook, and then rose up
and went after them.
Meanwhile the King’s son was galloping off with the girl with all his
might, when all at once the girl felt the demon’s breath, and cried out
in her terror: “Alas, my King, the Wind-Demon is here!” Like a whirlwind
the invisible monster was upon them, caught up the youth, tore off his
arms and legs, and smashed his skull and all his bones till there was
not a bit of him left.
The damsel began to weep bitterly. “Even if thou hast killed him,”
sobbed she, “let me at least gather together his bones and pile them up
somewhere, for if thou suffer it, I would fain bury him.”--“I care not
what thou dost with his bones!” cried the Demon.
So the damsel took the bones of the King’s son, piled them up together,
kissed the horse between the eyes, placed the bones on his saddle, and
whispered in his ear: “Take these bones, my good steed, take them to the
proper place.” Then the Demon took the girl and led her back to the
palace, for the power of her beauty was so great that it always kept the
Demon close to her. Into her presence, indeed, she never suffered the
monster to come. At the door of her chamber he had to stop, but he was
allowed to show himself to her now and then.
Meanwhile the good steed galloped away with the youth’s bones till he
stopped at the door of the palace of the youngest sister, and then he
neighed and neighed till the damsel heard him. She rushed out to the
horse, and when she perceived the knapsack, and in the knapsack the
bones of her brother, she began to weep bitterly, and dashed herself
against the ground as if she would have dashed herself to pieces. She
could hardly wait for her lord the Anka to come home. At last there was
a sound of mighty wings, and the Padishah of the Birds, the emerald
Anka, came home, and when he saw the scattered bones of the King’s son
in the basket, he called together all the birds of the air and asked
them, saying: “Which of you goes to the Garden of Paradise?”
“An old owl is the only one that goes there,” said the birds, “and he
has now grown so old that he has no more strength left for such a
journey.”
Then the Anka sent a bird to bring the owl on his back. The bird flew
away, and in a very short time was back again, with the aged owl on his
back.
“Well, my father,” said the Bird-Padishah, “hast thou ever been in the
Garden of Paradise?”
“Yes, my little son,” croaked the aged owl, “a long, long time ago,
twelve years or more, and I haven’t been there since.”
“Well, if thou hast been there,” said the Anka, “go again now, and bring
me from thence a little glass of water.” The old owl kept on saying that
it was a long, long way for him to go, and that he would never be able
to hold out the whole way. The Anka would not listen to him, but perched
him upon a bird’s back, and the twain flew into the Garden of Paradise,
drew a glass of water, and returned to the Anka’s palace.
Then the Anka took the youth’s bones and began to put them together. The
arms, the legs, the head, the thighs, everything he put in its proper
place; and when he had sprinkled it all with the water, the youth fell
a-gaping, as if he had been asleep and was just coming to himself again.
The youth looked all about him, and asked the Anka where he was, and how
he came there.
“Didn’t I say that the Wind-Demon would twist thee round his little
finger?” replied the Anka. “He ground all thy bones and sinews to dust,
and we have only just now picked them all out of the basket. But now
thou hadst better leave the matter alone, for if thou gettest once more
into the clutches of this demon, I know that we shall never be able to
put thee together again.”
But the youth was not content to do this, but said he would go seek his
consort a second time.
“Well, if thou art bent on going at any price,” counselled the Anka, “go
first to thy wife and ask her if she knows the Demon’s talisman. If only
thou canst get hold of that, even the Wind-Demon will be in thy power.”
So again the King’s son took horse, again he went right up to the
Demon’s palace, and as the Demon was dreaming dreams just then, the
youth was able to find and converse with his wife. After they had
rejoiced with a great joy at the sight of each other, the youth told the
lady to discover the secret of the Demon’s talisman, and win it by
wheedling words and soft caresses if she could get at it no other way.
Meanwhile the youth hid himself in the neighbouring mountain, and there
awaited the good news.
When the Wind-Demon awoke from his forty days’ sleep he again presented
himself at the damsel’s door. “Depart from before my eyes,” cried the
girl. “Here hast thou been doing nothing but sleep these forty days, so
that life has been a loathsome thing to me all the while.”
The Demon rejoiced that he was allowed to be in the room along with the
damsel, and in his happiness asked her what he should give her to help
her to while away the time.
“What canst thou give me,” said the girl, “seeing that thou thyself art
but wind? Now if at least thou hadst a talisman, that, at any rate,
would be something to while away the time with.”
“Alas! my Sultana,” replied the Demon, “my talisman is far away, in the
uttermost ends of the earth, and one cannot fetch it hither in a little
instant. If only we had some such brave man as thy Mehmed was, he
perhaps might be able to go for it.”
The damsel was now more curious than ever about the talisman, and she
coaxed and coaxed till at last she persuaded the Demon to tell her about
the talisman, but not till she had granted his request that he might sit
down quite close to her. The damsel could not refuse him that happiness,
so he sat down beside her, and breathed into her ear the secret of the
talisman.
“On the surface of the seventh layer of sea,” began the Demon, “there is
an island, on that island an ox is grazing, in the belly of that ox
there is a golden cage, and in that cage there is a white dove. That
little dove is my talisman.”
“But how can one get to that island?” inquired the Sultana.
“I’ll tell thee,” said the Demon. “Opposite to the palace of the emerald
Anka is a huge mountain, and on the top of that mountain is a spring.
Every morning forty sea-horses come to drink at that spring. If any one
can be found to catch one of these horses by the leg (but only while he
is drinking the water), bridle him, saddle him, and then leap on his
back, he will be able to go wherever he likes. The sea-horse will say to
him: ‘What dost thou command, my sweet master?’ and will carry him
whithersoever he bids him.”
“What good will the talisman be to me if I cannot get near it?” said the
girl. With that she drove the Demon from the room, and when the time of
his slumber arrived, she hastened with the news to her lord. Then the
King’s son made great haste, leaped on his horse, hastened to the palace
of his youngest sister, and told the matter to the Anka.
Early next morning the Anka arose, called five birds, and said to them:
“Lead the King’s son to the spring on the mountain beyond, and wait
there till the sea-horses come up. Forty steeds will appear by the
running water, and when they begin to drink, seize one of them, bridle
and saddle it, and put the King’s son on its back.”
So the birds took the King’s son, carried him up to the mountain close
by the spring, and as soon as the horses came up, they did to one of
them what the Anka had said. The King’s son sat on the horse’s back
forthwith, and the first thing the good steed said was: “What dost thou
command, my sweet master?”
“There is an island on the surface of the seventh ocean,” cried the
King’s son, “there should I like to be!” And the King’s son had flown
away before you could shut your eyes; and before you could open them
again, there he was on the shore of that island.
He dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, stuck it in his
pocket, and went off to seek the ox. As he was walking up and down the
shore a Jew met him, and asked him what had brought him there.
“I have suffered shipwreck,” replied the youth. “My ship and everything
I possess have perished, and only with difficulty did I swim ashore.”
“As for me,” said the Jew, “I am in the service of the Wind-Demon. Thou
must know that there is an ox on this island, and I must watch it night
and day. Wouldst thou like to enter the service? Thou wilt have nothing
else to do all day but watch this beast.”
The King’s son took advantage of the opportunity, and could scarce await
the moment when he was to see the ox. At watering-time the Jew brought
it along, and no sooner did he find himself alone with the beast than he
cut open its belly, took out the golden cage, and hastened with it to
the sea-shore. Then he drew the bridle from his pocket, and when he had
struck the sea with it, the steed immediately appeared and cried: “What
dost thou command, sweet master?”--“I desire to be taken to the palace
of the Wind-Demon,” cried the youth.
Shut your eyes, open your eyes--and there they were before the palace.
Then he took his wife, made her sit down beside him, and when the steed
said: “What dost thou command, sweet master?” he bade it fly straight to
the emerald Anka.
Away with them flew the steed. It flew right up to the very clouds, and
as they were approaching the Anka’s palace the Demon awoke from his
sleep. He saw that his wife had again disappeared, and immediately set
off in pursuit. Already the Sultana felt the breath of the Demon, and he
had all but overtaken them when the steed hastily bade them twist the
neck of the white dove in the cage. They had barely time to do so, when
the Wind died away and the Demon was destroyed.
With great joy they arrived at the Anka’s palace, let the horse go his
way, and rested themselves awhile. On the next day they went to their
second brother, and on the third day to their third brother, and it was
only then that the King’s son discovered that his lion brother-in-law
was the King of the Lions, and his tiger brother-in-law the King of the
Tigers. At last they reached their home which was the domain of the
damsel’s. Here they made a great banquet, and rejoiced their hearts for
forty days and forty nights, after which they arose and went to the
prince’s own empire. There he showed them the tongue of the dragon and
its nose, and as he had thus fulfilled the wishes of his father, they
chose him to be their Padishah; and their lives were full of joy till
the day of their death, and their end was a happy one.
THE CROW-PERI
Once upon a time that was no time there was a man who had one son. This
man used to go out into the forest all day, and catch birds for sale to
the first comer. At last, however, the father died and the son was left
all alone. Now he did not know what had been his fathers profession, but
while he was searching all about the floor he came upon the
fowling-snare. So he took it, went out into the forest, and set the
snare on a tree. At that moment a crow flew down upon the tree, but as
the snare was cunningly laid the poor bird was caught. The youth climbed
up after it, but when he had got hold of the bird, the crow began
begging him to let her go, promising to give him in exchange something
more beautiful and more precious than herself. The crow begged and
prayed till at last he let her go free, and again he set the snare in
the tree and sat down at the foot of it to wait. Presently another bird
came flying up, and flew right into the snare. The youth climbed up the
tree again to bring it down, but when he saw it he was full of
amazement, for such a beautiful thing he had never seen in the forest
before.
While he was still gazing at it and chuckling, the crow again appeared
to him and said: “Take that bird to the Padishah, and he will buy it
from thee.” So the youth took away the bird, put it in a cage, and
carried it to the palace. When the Padishah saw the beautiful little
creature he was filled with joy, and gave the youth so much money for it
that he did not know what to do with it all. But the bird they placed in
a golden cage, and the Padishah had his joy of it day and night.
Now the Padishah had a favourite who was grievously jealous of the good
fortune of the youth who had brought the bird, and kept cudgelling his
brains how he could get him beneath his feet. At last he hit upon a
plan, and going in to the Padishah one day he said: “How happy that bird
would be if only he had an ivory palace to dwell in!”
“Yes,” replied the Padishah, “but whence could I get enough ivory to
make him a palace?”
“He who brought the bird hither,” said the favourite, “will certainly be
able to find the ivory.”
So the Padishah sent for the little fowler, and bade him make an ivory
palace for the bird there and then. “I know thou canst get the ivory,”
said the Padishah.
“Alas, my lord Padishah!” lamented the youth, “whence am I to get all
this ivory from?”
“That is thy business,” replied the Padishah. “Thou mayest search for it
for forty days, but if it is not here by that time thy head shall be
where now thy feet are.”
The youth was sore troubled, and while he was still pondering in his
mind which road he should take, the crow came flying up to him, and
asked him what he was grieving about so much. Then the youth told her
what a great trouble that one little bird had brought down upon his
head.
“Why this is nothing at all to fret about,” said the crow; “but go to
the Padishah, and ask him for forty wagon-loads of wine!” So the youth
returned to the palace, got all that quantity of wine, and as he was
coming back with the cars, the crow flew up and said: “Hard by is a
forest, on the border of which are forty large trenches, and as many
elephants as there are in the wide world come to drink out of these
trenches. Go now and fill them with wine instead of water. The elephants
will thus get drunk and tumble down, and thou wilt be able to pull out
their teeth and take them to the Padishah.”
The youth did as the bird said, crammed his cars full of elephants’
tusks instead of wine, and returned with them to the palace. The
Padishah rejoiced greatly at the sight of all the ivory, had the palace
built, rewarded the little fowler with rich gifts, and sent him home.
So there was the sparkling bird in his ivory palace, and right merrily
did he hop about from perch to perch, but he could never be got to sing.
“Ah!” said the evil counsellor, “if only his master were here he would
sing of his own accord.”
“Who knows who his master is, or where he is to be found?” asked the
Padishah sadly.
“He who fetched the elephants’ tusks could fetch the bird’s master
also,” replied the evil counsellor.
So the Padishah sent for the little fowler once more, and commanded him
to bring the bird’s master before him.
“How can I tell who his master is, when I caught him by chance in the
forest?” asked the fowler.
“That is thy look-out,” said the Padishah; “but if thou find him not I
will slay thee. I give thee forty days for thy quest, and let that
suffice thee.”
So the youth went home, and sobbed aloud in his despair, when lo! the
crow came flying up and asked him what he was crying for.