Long ages ago there was a far-off country where a mighty Khan
ruled. Near the source of the chief river of this country was a pool,
where lived two Serpent-gods (1), who had command of the water; and
as they could shut off the water of the river when they pleased, and
prevent it from overflowing and fertilizing the country, the people
were obliged to obey their behest, be it what it might. Now, the
tribute they exacted of the country was that of a full grown man, to
be chosen by lot, every year; and on whoso the lot fell, he had to go,
without redemption, whatever his condition in life. Thus it happened
one year that the lot fell on the Khan himself. In all the kingdom
there was no one of equal rank who could be received instead of him,
unless it had been his only son. When his son would have gone in his
stead, he answered him, "What is it to me if the Serpents devour
me, so that thou, my son, reignest in peace?" But the son said,
"Never shall it be that thou, my Khan and father, shouldst suffer
this cruel death, while I remain at home. The thought be far from
me. Neither will the land receive harm by my death; is not my mother
yet alive? and other sons may be born to thee, who shall reign over
the land." So he went to offer himself as food to the Serpent-gods.
As he went along, the people followed him for a long stretch of the
way, bewailing him; and then they turned them back. But one there
was who turned not back: it was a poor man's son whom the Prince had
all his life had for his friend; he continued following him. Then the
Prince turned and said to him, "Walk thou according to the counsels of
thy father and thy mother, and be prosperous and happy on the earth. To
defend this noble, princely country, and to fulfil the royal word of
the Khan, my father, I go forth to be food to the Serpent-gods."
But the poor man's son refused to forsake him. "Thou hast loaded
me with goodness and favours," he said, as he wept; "if I may not
go instead of thee, at least I will go with thee." And he continued
following the Prince.
When they got near the pool, they heard a low, rumbling, horrible
sound: it was the two Serpent-gods talking together, and talking about
them, for they were on the look-out to see who would be sent to them
this year for the tribute. The old gold-yellow Serpent was telling
the young emerald-green Serpent how the Prince had come instead of
his father, and how the poor man, who had no need to come at all,
had insisted on accompanying him.
"And these people are so devoted in giving their lives for one
another," said the young emerald-green Serpent, "and have not the
courage to come out and fight us, and make an end of paying this
tribute at all."
"They don't know the one only way to fight us," answered the
gold-yellow old Serpent; "and as all the modes they have tried have
always failed, they imagine it cannot be done, and they try no more."
"And what is the one only way by which they could prevail against
us?" inquired the young emerald-green Serpent.
"They have only to cut off our heads with a blow of a stout
staff," replied the old gold-yellow Serpent, "for so has Shêsa,
the Serpent-dæmon, appointed."
"But these men carry shining swords that look sharp and fearful,"
urged the young emerald-green Serpent.
"That is it!" rejoined the other: "their swords avail nothing against
us, and so they never think that a mere staff should kill us. Also,
if after cutting off our heads they were to eat them, they would be
able to spit as much gold and precious stones as ever they liked. But
they know nothing of all this," chuckled the old gold-yellow Serpent.
Meantime, the Prince had not lost a word of all that the two Serpents
had said to each other, for his mother had taught him the speech
of all manner of creatures. So when he first heard the noise of the
Serpents talking together, he had stood still, and listened to their
words. Now, therefore, he told it all again to his follower, and they
cut two stout staves in the wood, and then drew near, and cut off the
heads of the Serpents with the staves--each of them one; and when
they had cut them off, the Prince ate the head of the gold-yellow
Serpent, and, see! he could spit out as much gold money as ever he
liked; and his follower ate the head of the emerald-green Serpent,
and he could spit out emeralds as many as ever he pleased.
Then spoke the poor man's son: "Now that we have killed the Serpents,
and restored the due course of the water to our native country,
let us return home and live at peace."
But the Khan's son answered, "Not so, for if we went back to our own
land, the people would only mock us, saying, 'The dead return not to
the living!' and we should find no place among them. It is better we
betake ourselves to another country afar off, which knows us not."
So they journeyed on through a mountain pass.
At the foot of the mountains they came to the habitation of a beautiful
woman and her daughter, selling strong drink to travellers. Here they
stopped, and would have refreshed themselves, but the women asked
them what means they had to pay them withal, for they saw they looked
soiled with travel. "We will pay whatever you desire," replied the
Prince; and he began to spit out gold coin upon the table. When the
women saw that he spat out as much gold coin as ever he would, they
took them inside, and gave them as much drink as they could take,
making them pay in gold, and at many times the worth of the drink,
for they no longer knew what they did; only when they had made them
quite intoxicated, and they could not get any thing more from them,
in despite of all sense of gratitude or hospitality, they turned them
out to pass the night on the road.
When they woke in the morning, they journeyed farther till they came
to a broad river; on its banks was a palm-grove, and a band of boys
were gathered together under it quarrelling.
"Boys! what are you disputing about?" inquired the Prince.
"We found a cap on this palm-tree," answered one of the boys, "and
we are disputing whose it shall be, because we all want it."
"And what use would the cap be to you? What is it good for?" asked
the Prince.
"Why, that whichever of us gets it has only to put it on," replied the
boy, "and he immediately becomes invisible to gods, men, and dæmons."
"I will settle the dispute for you," rejoined the Prince. "You all of
you get you to the far end of this palm-grove, and start back running,
all fair, together. Whichever wins the race shall be reckoned to have
won the cap. Give it to me to hold the while."
The boys said, "It is well spoken;" and giving the cap to the Prince,
they set off to go to the other end of the grove. But they were no
sooner well on their way, than the Prince put on the cap, and then
joining hands with his companion, both became invisible to gods, men,
and dæmons; so that when the boys came back at full speed, though
they were both yet standing in the same place, none of them could
see them. After wandering about to look for them in vain, they at
last gave it up in despair, and went away crying with disappointment.
The Prince and his follower continued their journey by the side of
the stream till they came to a broad road, and here at the cross-way
was a crowd of dæmons assembled, who were all chattering aloud,
and disputing vehemently.
"Dæmons! What are you quarrelling about?" asked the Prince.
"We found this pair of boots here," answered the dæmons, "and whoever
puts these boots on has only to wish that he might be in a particular
place, and immediately arrives there; and we cannot agree which of
us is to have the boots."
"I will settle the dispute for you," replied the Prince. "You all go
up to the end of this road, and run back hither all of you together,
and whichever of you wins the race, he shall be reckoned to have won
the boots. Give them to me to hold the while."
So the dæmons answered, "It is well spoken;" and giving the boots
to the Prince, they set off to go to the far end of the road. But
by the time they got back the Prince had put on the invisible cap,
and joining hands with his companion had become invisible to gods,
men, and dæmons, so that for all their looking there was no trace of
them to be found. Thus they had to give up the lucky boots, and went
their way howling for disappointment.
As soon as they were gone the Prince and his follower began to examine
the boots, and to ponder what they should do with their treasure.
"A great gift and a valuable," said the latter, "hath been given
thee, O Prince, by the favour of fortune, and thy wisdom in acquiring
it. Wish now to reach a prosperous place to be happy; but for me I
shall not know where thou art gone, and I shall see thy face no more."
But the Prince said, "Nay, but wheresoever I go, thou shalt go
too. Here is one boot for me, and the other for thee, and when we have
both put them on we will wish to be in the place where at this moment
there is no Khan, and we will then see what is further to be done."
So the Prince put on the right boot, and his follower the left boot,
and they laid them down to sleep, and both wished that they might
come to a land where there was no Khan.
When they woke in the morning they found themselves lying in
the hollow of an ancient tree, in the outskirts of a great city,
overshadowing the place where the election of the Khan was wont
to be made. As soon as day broke the people began to assemble,
and many ceremonies were performed. At last the people said,
"Let us take one of the Baling-cakes out of the straw sacrifice,
and throw it up into the air, and on to whosoever's head it falls
he shall be our Khan. So they took the Baling-cake out of the straw
sacrifice, and it fell into the hollow tree. And the people said,
"We must choose some other mode of divination, for the Baling-cake
has failed. Shall a hollow tree reign over us?"