tell the crow of his new trouble.--“Nay, but ’tis a shame to weep for
such a trifle,” said the crow. “Go quickly now to the King and ask him
for a large ship, but it must be large enough to hold forty
maidservants, a beautiful garden also, and a bath-house.” So the youth
returned to the King and told him what he wanted for his journey.
The ship was prepared as he had desired it, the youth embarked, and was
just thinking whether he should go to the left or the right, when the
crow came flying up, and said to him: “Steer thy ship always to the
right, and go straight on until thou perceive a huge mountain. At the
foot of this mountain dwell forty Peris, and when they perceive thy ship
they will feel a strong desire to look at everything on board of it. But
thou must allow only their Queen to come on board, for she is the owner
of the bird, and while thou art showing her the ship, set sail and never
stop till thou reach home.”
So the youth went on board the ship, steered steadily to the right, and
never stopped once till he came to the mountain. There the forty Peris
were walking on the sea-shore, and when they saw the ship they all came
rushing up that they might examine the beautiful thing. The Queen of the
Peris asked the little fowler whether he would not show her the ship,
especially the inside of it, and he took her off in a little skiff and
brought her to the vessel.
The Peri was monstrously delighted with the beautiful ship, walked in
the garden with the damsels on board the ship, and when she saw the
bath-room she said to the waiting-maids: “If I have come so far, I may
as well have a bath into the bargain.” With that she stepped into the
bath-room, and while she was bathing the ship went off.
They had gone a good distance across the sea before the Peri had
finished her bathing. The Peri made haste, for it was now growing late,
but when she stepped upon the deck she saw nothing but the sea around
her. At this she fell a-weeping bitterly. What would become of her? she
said; whither was she going? into whose hands was she about to fall? But
the youth comforted her with the assurance that she was going to a
King’s palace, and would be among good people.
Not very long afterwards they arrived in the city, and sent word to the
King that the ship had come back. Then he brought the Peri to the
palace, and as she passed by the ivory palace of the bird, it began to
sing so beautifully that all who heard it were beside themselves for
joy. The Peri was a little comforted when she heard it, but the King was
filled with rapture, and he loved the beautiful Peri so fondly that he
could not be a single moment without her. The wedding-banquet quickly
followed, and with the beauteous Peri on his right hand, and the
sparkling bird on his left, there was not a happier man in the world
than that Padishah. But the poison of envy devoured the soul of the evil
counsellor.
One day, however, the Sultana suddenly fell ill, and took to her bed.
Every remedy was tried in vain, but the sages said that nothing could
cure her but the drug which she had left behind her in her own fairy
palace. Then, by the advice of the evil counsellor, the young fowler was
again sent for to the palace, and commanded to go and seek for the drug.
So the good youth embarked on his ship again, and was just about to sail
when the crow came to him and asked him whither he was going. The youth
told her that the Sultana was ill, and he had been sent to fetch the
drug from the fairy palace. “Well then, go!” said the crow, “and thou
wilt find the palace behind a mountain. Two lions stand in the gates,
but take this feather and touch their mouths with it, and they will not
lift so much as a claw against thee.”
The youth took the feather, arrived in front of the mountain,
disembarked, and quickly beheld the palace. He went straight up to the
gates, and there stood the two lions. He took out his feather, and no
sooner had he touched their mouths than they lay down one on each side
and let him go into the palace. The Peris about the palace also saw the
youth, and immediately guessed that their Queen was ill. So they gave
him the drug, and immediately he took ship again, and returned to the
palace of the Padishah. But the moment he entered the Peri’s chamber
with the drug in his hand, the crow alighted on his shoulder, and thus
they went together to the sick Sultana’s bed.
The Sultana was already in the throes of death, but no sooner had she
tasted of the healing drug than she seemed to return to life again at a
single bound. She opened her eyes, gazed upon the little fowler, and
perceiving the crow upon his shoulder thus addressed her: “Oh, thou
sooty slave! art thou not sorry for all that this good youth hath
suffered for my sake?” Then the Sultana told her lord that this same
crow was her serving-maid, whom, for negligence in her service, she had
changed into a crow. “Nevertheless,” she added, “I now forgive her, for
I see that her intentions towards me were good.”
At these words the crow trembled all over, and immediately a damsel so
lovely stood before the young fowler that there was really very little
difference between her and the Queen of the Peris. At the petition of
the Sultana, the Sultan married the youth to the Crow-Peri, the
evil-minded counsellor was banished, and the fowler became Vizier in his
stead. And their happiness lasted till death.
THE FORTY PRINCES AND THE SEVEN-HEADED DRAGON
There was once upon a time a Padishah, and this Padishah had forty sons.
All day long they disported themselves in the forest, snaring birds and
hunting beasts, but when the youngest of them was fourteen years old
their father wished to marry them. So he sent for them all and told them
his desire. “We will marry,” said the forty brothers, “but only when we
find forty sisters who are the daughters of the same father and the same
mother.” Then the Padishah searched the whole realm through to find
forty such sisters, but though he found families of thirty-nine sisters,
families of forty sisters he could never find.
“Let the fortieth of you take another wife,” said the Padishah to his
sons. But the forty brothers would not agree thereto, and they begged
their father to allow them to go and search if haply they might find
what they wanted in another empire. What could the Padishah do? He could
not refuse them their request, so he gave them his permission. But
before they departed he summoned them into his presence, and this is
what their father the Padishah said to them: “I have three things to say
to you, which bear ye well in mind. When ye come in your journey to a
large spring, take heed not to pass the night near it. Beyond the spring
is a caravanserai; there also ye must not abide. Beyond the caravanserai
is a vast desert; and there also ye must not take a moment’s rest.” The
sons promised their father that they would keep his words, and with
baggage light of weight but exceedingly precious, they took horse and
set out on their journey.
They went on and on, they smoked their chibooks and drank forty cups of
coffee, and when evening descended the large spring was right before
them. “Verily,” began the elder brethren, “we will not go another step
further. We are weary, and the night is upon us, and what need forty men
fear?” And with that they dismounted from their horses, ate their
suppers, and laid them down to rest. Only the youngest brother, who was
fourteen years of age, remained awake.
It might have been near midnight when the youth heard a strange noise.
He caught up his arms, and turning in the direction of the sound saw
before him a seven-headed dragon. They rushed towards each other, and
thrice the dragon fell upon the prince, but could do him no harm. “Well,
now it is my turn,” cried the youth; “wilt thou be converted to the true
faith?” and with these words he struck the monster such a blow that six
of his seven heads came flying down.
“Strike me once more,” groaned the dragon.
“Not I,” replied the youth, “I myself only came into the world once.”
Immediately the dragon fell to pieces, but his one remaining head began
to roll and roll and roll till it stood on the brink of the well.
“Whoever can take my soul out of this well,” it said, “shall have my
treasure also,” and with these words the head bounded into the well.
The youth took a rope, fastened one end of it to a rock, and seizing the
other end himself, lowered himself into the well. At the bottom of the
well he found an iron door. He opened it, passed through, and there
right before him stood a palace compared with which his father’s palace
was a hovel. Into this palace he went, and in it were forty rooms, and
in each room was a damsel sitting by her embroidery frame with enormous
treasures behind her. “Art thou a man or a spirit?” cried the terrified
damsels.--“A man am I, and the son of a man,” replied the prince. “I
have just slain a seven-headed dragon, and have followed its rolling
head hither.”
Oh, how the forty damsels rejoiced at hearing these words. They embraced
the youth, and begged and prayed him not to leave them there. They were
the children of one father and one mother they said. The dragon had
killed their parents and carried them off, and they had nobody to look
to in the whole wide world.
“We also are forty,” said the youth, “and we are seeking forty damsels.”
Then he told them that he would first of all ascend to his brethren, and
then he would come for them again. So he ascended out of the well, went
to the spring, lay down beside it and fell asleep.
Early in the morning the forty brothers arose and laughed at their
father for trying to frighten them with the well. Again they set out on
their way, and went on and on till evening overtook them, when they
perceived a caravanserai before them. “Not a step further will we go,”
said the elder brothers. The youngest brother indeed insisted that it
would be well to remember their father’s words, for his speech could
surely not have been in vain. But they laughed at their youngest
brother, ate and drank, said their prayers, and lay down to sleep. Only
the youngest brother remained wide awake.
About midnight he again heard a noise. The youth snatched up his arms,
and again he saw before him a seven-headed dragon, but much larger than
the former one. The dragon rushed at him first of all, but could not
overcome him, then the youth dealt him one blow and off went six of the
dragon’s heads. Then the dragon wished him to take one more blow but he
would not; the head rolled into a well, the youth went after it, and
came upon a palace larger than the former one, and with ever so much
more treasures and precious things in it. He marked the well so that he
should know it again, returned to his brothers, and wearied out with his
great combat slept so soundly that his brothers had to wake him up with
blows next morning.
Again they arose, took horse, went up hill and down dale, and just as
the sun was setting, behold! a vast desert stood before them. They fell
to eating straightway, drank their fill also, and were just going to lie
down to sleep when all at once such a roaring, such a bellowing arose
that the very mountains fell down from their places.
The princes were horribly afraid, especially when they saw coming
against them a gigantic seven-headed dragon. He vomited forth venomous
fire in his wrath, and roared furiously: “Who killed my two brothers?
Hither with him! I’ll try conclusions with him also!”
The youngest brother saw that his brethren were more dead than alive
from fear, so he gave them the keys of the two wells, in one of which
was the vast heap of treasure, and in the other the forty damsels. Let
them take everything home, he said; as for himself he must first slay
the dragon and then he would follow after them. The thirty-nine brothers
lost no time in mounting their horses and galloping off. They drew the
treasure out of one well and the forty damsels out of the other, and so
returned home to their father. But now we will see what happened to the
youngest brother.
He fought the dragon and the dragon fought him, but neither could get
the better of the other. The dragon perceived that it was vain to try
and vanquish the youth, so he said to him: “If thou wilt go to the
Empire of Chin-i-Machin[12] and fetch me thence the Padishah’s daughter,
I will not worry the life out of thee.” To this the prince readily
agreed, for he could not have sustained the conflict much longer.
Then Champalak, for that was the dragon’s name, gave the prince a bridle
and said to him: “A good steed comes hither to feed every day, seize
him, put this bridle in his mouth, and bid him take thee to the Empire
of Chin-i-Machin!” So the youth took the bridle and waited for the good
charger. Presently a golden-maned charger came flying through the air,
and the moment the prince had put the bridle in its mouth, the charger
said: “What dost thou command, little Sultan?” and before you could wink
your eyes, the Empire of Chin-i-Machin stood before him. Then he
dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, and went into the town.
There he entered into an old woman’s hut and asked her whether she
received guests. “Willingly,” answered the old woman. Then she made
ready a place for him, and while he was sipping his coffee he asked her
all about the talk of the town. “Well,” said the old woman, “a
seven-headed dragon is very much in love with our Sultan’s daughter. A
war has been raging between them on that account these many years, and
the monster presses us so hardly that not even a bird can fly into our
realm.”
“Then where is the Sultan’s daughter?” asked the youth.--“In a little
palace in the Padishah’s garden,” replied the old woman, “and the poor
thing dare not put her foot outside it.”
The next day the youth went to the Padishah’s garden, and asked the
gardener to take him as a servant, and he begged and prayed till the
gardener had not the heart to refuse him. “Very well, I will take thee,”
said he, “and thou wilt have nought to do but water the flowers of the
garden.”
Now the Sultan’s daughter saw the youth, called him to her window, and
asked him how he had managed to reach that realm. Then the youth told
her that his father was a Padishah, that he had fought with the dragon
Champalak on his travels, and had promised to bring him the Sultan’s
daughter. “Yet fear thou nothing,” added the youth, “my love is stronger
than the love of the serpent, and if thou wilt only have the courage to
come with me, trust me to find a way of disposing of him.”
The damsel was so much in love with the prince, and so eager to escape
from her captivity, that she consented to trust herself to him, and one
night they escaped from her palace and went straight towards the desert
where dwelt the dragon Champalak. They agreed on the way that the girl
should find out what the dragon’s talisman was, that they might destroy
him that way if they could do it no other.
Imagine the joy of Champalak when he perceived the princess! “What joy,
what rapture, that thou hast come!” cried Champalak; but fondle her and
caress her as he might, the damsel did nothing but weep. Days passed by,
weeks passed by, and yet the tears never left the damsel’s eyes. “Tell
me at least what thy talisman is,” said the damsel to him one day, “if
thou wouldst see me happy and not wretched with thee all thy days.”
“Alas, my soul!” said the dragon, “my talisman is guarded in a place
whither it is impossible ever to come. It is in a large palace in a
neighbouring realm, and though one may venture thither for it, no one
has ever been able to get back again.”
The prince needed no more, that was quite good enough for him. He took
his bridle, went with it to the sea-shore, and summoned his golden-maned
steed. “What dost thou command me, little Sultan?” said the steed. “I
desire thee to convey me to the neighbouring realm, to the palace of the
talisman of the dragon Champalak,” cried the youth--and in no more time
than it takes to wink an eye, the palace stood before him.
Then the steed said to the youth: “When we reach the palace thou wilt
tie the bridle to two iron gates, and when I neigh once and strike my
iron hoofs together, a door will open. In this open door thou wilt see a
lion’s throat, and if thou canst not kill that lion at one stroke,
escape, or thou art a dead man.” With that they went up to the palace,
he tied the horse to the two iron gates by his bridle, and when he
neighed the door flew open. The youth struck with all his might at the
gaping throat of the lion in the doorway and split it right in two. Then
he cut open the lion’s belly, and drew out of it a little gold cage with
three doves in it, so beautiful that the like of them is not to be
found in the wide world. He took one of them and began softly stroking
and caressing it, when all at once--pr-r-r-r!--away it flew out of his
hand. The steed galloped swiftly after it, and if he had not caught it
and wrung its neck it would have gone hard with the good youth.
Then he mounted his steed again, and in the twinkling of an eye he stood
once more before Champalak’s palace. In the gateway of the palace he
killed the second dove, so that when the youth entered the dragon’s
room, there the monster lay quite helpless, and there was no more spirit
in him at all. When he saw the dove in the youth’s hand he implored him
to let him stroke it for the last time before he died. The youth’s heart
felt for him, and he was just about to hand the bird to him when the
princess rushed out, snatched the dove from his hand, and killed it,
whereupon the dragon expired before their very eyes. “‘Twas well for
thee,” said the steed, “that thou didst not give him the dove, for if he
had got it, fresh life would have flowed into him.” And with that the
steed disappeared, bridle and all.
Then they got together the dragon’s treasures, and went with them to the
Empire of Chin-i-Machin. The Padishah was sick for grief at the loss of
the damsel, and after searching for her in all parts of the kingdom in
vain, was persuaded that she had fallen into the hands of the dragon.
And lo! there she stood before him now, hand in hand with the King’s
son. Then there was such a marriage-feast in that city that it seemed as
if there was no end to it. After the marriage they set out on their
journey again, and travelled with a great escort of soldiers to the
prince’s father. There they had long held the King’s son to be dead, and
would not believe that it was he even now till he had told them the tale
of the three seven-headed dragons and the forty damsels.
The fortieth damsel was waiting patiently for him there, and the prince
said to his wife: “Behold now my second bride!”--“Thou didst save my
life from the dragon,” replied the Princess of Chin-i-Machin, “I
therefore give her to thee, do as thou wilt with her!” So they made a
marriage-feast for the second bride also, and they spent half their days
in the Empire of the prince’s father, and the other half in the Empire
of Chin-i-Machin, and their lives flowed away in happiness.
THE WORLD’S MOST BEAUTEOUS DAMSEL
There was once upon a time a Padishah who had an only son. His father
guarded him as the apple of his eye, and there was not a desire of his
heart that was not instantly gratified.
One night a dervish appeared to the King’s son in a dream, and showed
him the World’s most beauteous Damsel, and there he drained with her the
cup of love. After that the prince became another man. He could neither
eat nor drink. Sleep brought him neither pleasure nor refreshment, and
he all at once grew sallow and withered. They sent for doctor after
doctor, they sent for wizard after wizard, but they could not tell the
nature of the malady or find a cure for it.
Then the sick prince said to his father: “My lord Padishah and father,
no leech, no wise man can help me, wherefore weary them in vain? The
World’s most beauteous Damsel is the cause of my complaint, and she will
be either the life or the death of me.”
The Padishah was frightened at the words of his son, and his chief care
was to drive the damsel out of the lad’s head. “‘Tis dangerous to even
think of such a thing,” said he, “for her love will be thy death.” But
his son continued to pine away daily, and life had no joy for him. Again
and again the father begged his son to tell him his heart’s desire and
it should be instantly fulfilled, and the eternal reply of the son was:
“Let me seek the World’s most beauteous Damsel.” Then the Padishah
thought to himself: “If I do not let him go he will only perish, and he
cannot therefore be worse off if he goes.” Then said he: “Go, my son,
after thy love, and may the righteous Allah be merciful to thee.”
So the next day the prince set out on his journey. He went up hill and
down dale, he crossed vast deserts, he traversed rugged wildernesses in
search of his beloved, the World’s most beauteous Damsel. On and on he
went, till he came at last to the sea-shore, and there he saw a poor
little fish writhing in the sand, and the fish besought him to throw it
back into the sea again. The youth had compassion upon the fish, and
threw it back into the sea again. Then the little fish gave him three
scales, and said to him: “If ever thou dost get into any trouble, burn
these scales.”
Again the youth went on his way till he came to a vast desert, and
there on the ground in front of him he saw a lame ant. The little
creature told him that he was going to a wedding, but could not overtake
his comrades because they hastened so quickly. Then the youth took up
the ant and carried him to his comrades. As they parted the ant gave him
a little piece of its wing and said: “If ever thou shouldst get into any
trouble, burn this bit of wing.”
Again the youth followed his road, full of weary woefulness, and
reaching the borders of a large forest he there saw a little bird
struggling with a large serpent. The little bird asked help of the
youth, and with one blow he cut the serpent in two. The bird then gave
him three feathers. “If ever thou shouldst get into trouble,” it said,
“burn these little feathers.”
Again he took up his pilgrim’s staff and went beyond the mountains,
beyond the sea, till he came to a large city. It was the realm of the
father of the World’s most beauteous Damsel. He went straight into the
palace to the Padishah, and begged the hand of his daughter in the name
of Allah. “Nay,” said the Padishah, “thou must first of all accomplish
three tasks for me. Only after that canst thou make known thy wishes to
my daughter.”
With that he took a ring, cast it into the sea, and said to the King’s
son: “If thou canst not find it for me in three days, thou art a dead
man.” Then the King’s son fell a-thinking till he bethought him of the
three scales, and he had no sooner burnt them than the little fish stood
before him and said: “What dost thou command, O my Sultan?”--“The ring
of the World’s most beauteous Damsel hath been cast into the sea, and I
want it back again,” said the prince. Then the fish sought for the ring
but couldn’t find it; it dived down a second time and still it couldn’t
find it; a third time it descended right down into the seventh ocean,
drew up a fish, cut it open, and there was the ring. So the youth gave
the ring to the Padishah, and the Padishah gave it to his daughter.
Now there was a cave near the palace full of gravel and grain. “My
second task,” said the Padishah, “is that thou dost separate the grain
from the gravel.” Then the youth entered the cave, took out the ant’s
wing and burned it, whereupon the whole cave was swarming with ants, and
they set to work upon the grain in hot haste. The day was now nearly
over, and the same evening the youth sent word to the Padishah that the
second task also was accomplished.
“The third task still remains,” said the Padishah, “and then thou mayest
have my daughter.” With that he sent for a maid-servant, had her head
cut off straightway, and then said to the youth: “Thus shall be done to
thy head also if thou restore not this damsel to life again.” The youth
quitted the palace in deep thought, and at last he bethought him that
the bird’s feathers might help him. So he took them out and burned them,
and lo! the bird stood before him ere yet his lips had commanded it to
appear. And the youth complained bitterly to the bird of the task that
was set him.
Now the bird had friends among the Peris, and, flying up into the air,
in no very long time was back again with a cruse of water in its beak.
“I have brought thee heavenly water which can give life even to the
dead,” said the bird. So the prince entered the palace, and no sooner
had he sprinkled the damsel with the water than she sprang up as if she
had never been dead at all.