Long ages ago, there lived in a land called Fair-flower-garden,
a man, who had three daughters, who minded his herds of goats (1),
the three alternately.
One day, when it was the turn of the eldest sister to go with them,
she fell asleep during the mid-day heat, and when she awoke, she
found that one of the goats was missing. While she wandered about
seeking it, she came to a place where was a great red door. When she
had opened this, she found behind it, a little farther on, a great
gold door. And when she had opened this, she found farther on another
door all of shining mother-o'-pearl. She opened this, and beyond it
again there was an emerald door, which gave entrance to a splendid
palace full of gold and precious stones, dazzling to behold. Yet in
all the whole palace there was no living thing save one white bird
perched upon a costly table in a cage.
The bird espying the maiden, said to her, "Maiden, how camest thou
hither?" And she replied, "One of my father's goats has escaped
from the flock, and as I dare not go home without it, I have been
seeking it every where; thus came I hither." Then the White Bird said,
"If thou wilt consent to be my wife (2), I will not only tell thee
where the goat is, but restore it to thee. If, however, thou refuse
to render me this service, the goat is lost to thy father's flock
for ever." But the maiden answered, "How can I be thy wife, seeing
thou art a bird? Therefore is my father's goat lost to his flock for
ever." And she went away weeping for sorrow.
The next day, when the second daughter took her turn with the herds,
another goat escaped from the flock; and when she went to seek it, she
also came to the strange palace and the white bird; but neither could
she enter into his idea of her becoming his wife; and she therefore
came home, sorrowing over the loss to the herd under her care.
The day following, the youngest daughter went forth with the goats,
and a goat also strayed from her. But she, when she had come to the
palace, and the white bird asked her to become his wife, with the
promise of restoring her goat in case of her consent, answered him, "As
a rule, creatures of the male gender keep their promises; therefore,
O bird! I accept thy conditions." Thus she agreed to become his wife.
One day there was to be a great gathering, lasting thirteen days, in
a temple in the neighbourhood. And when all the people were assembled
together, it was found that it was just this woman, the wife of the
white bird, who was more comely than all the other women. And among
the men there was a mighty rider, mounted on a dappled grey horse,
who was so far superior to all the rest, that when he had trotted
thrice round the assembly and ridden away again, they could not cease
talking of his grace and comeliness, and his mastery of his steed.
When the wife came back home again to the palace in the rock, the
white bird said to her, "Among all the men and women at the festival,
who was regarded to have given the proofs of superiority?" And she
answered, "Among the men, it was one riding on a dappled grey horse;
and among the women, it was I." Thus it happened every day of the
festival, neither was there any, of men or women, that could compete
with these two.
On the twelfth day, when the woman that was married to the white
bird went again to the festival, she had for her next neighbour an
ancient woman, who asked her how it had befallen the other days of
the feast; and she told her, saying, "Among all the women none has
overmatched me; but among the men, there is none to compare with the
mighty rider on the dappled grey horse. If I could but have such a
man for my husband, there would be nothing left to wish for all the
days of my life!" Then said the ancient woman, "And why shouldst
thou not have such a man for thy husband?" But she began to weep,
and said, "Because I have already promised to be the wife of a white
bird." "That is just right!" answered the ancient woman. "Behold,
to-morrow is the thirteenth day of the assembly; but come not thou to
the feast, only make as though thou wert going: hide thyself behind the
emerald door. When thou seemest to be gone, the white bird will leave
his perch, and assuming his man's form, will go into the stable, and
saddle his dappled grey steed, and ride to the festival as usual. Then
come thou out of thy hiding-place, and burn his perch, and cage, and
feathers; so will he have henceforth to wear his natural form." Thus
the ancient woman instructed the wife of the white bird.
The next day the woman did all that she had been told, even according
to the words of the ancient woman. But as she longed exceedingly to see
her husband return, she placed herself behind a pillar where she could
see him coming a long way. At last, as the sun began to sink quite red
towards the horizon, she saw him coming on his dapple-grey horse. "How
is this?" he exclaimed, as he espied her. "You got back sooner than I,
then?" And she answered, "Yes, I got home the first." Then inquired he
further, "Where is my perch and cage?" And she made answer, "Those have
I burned in the fire, in order that thou mightest henceforth appear
only in thy natural form." Then he exclaimed, "Knowest thou what thou
hast done? In that cage had I left not my feathers only, but also my
soul (3)!" And when she heard that, she wept sore, and besought him,
saying, "Is there no means of restoration? Behold there is nothing
that I could not endure to recover thy soul." And the man answered,
"There is one only remedy. The gods and dæmons will come to-night to
fetch me, because my soul is gone from me; but I can keep them in
perpetual contest for seven days and seven nights. Thou, meantime,
take this stick, and with it hew and hew on at the mother-o'-pearl
door without stopping or resting day or night. By the close of the
seventh night thou shalt have hewn through the door, and I shall be
free from the gods and dæmons; but, bear in mind, that if thou cease
from hewing for one single instant, or if weariness overtake thee for
one moment, then the gods and dæmons will carry me away with them--away
from thee." Thus he spoke. Then the woman went and fetched little
motes of the feather-grass, and fixed her eyelids open with them,
that she might not be overtaken by slumber; and with the stick that
her husband had given her she set to work, when night fell, to hew
and hew on at the mother-o'-pearl door. Thus she hewed on and on,
nor wearied, seven days and seven nights: only the seventh night,
the motes of grass having fallen out of one of her eyes so that she
could not keep the lid from closing once, in that instant the gods
and dæmons prevailed against her husband, and carried him off.
Inconsolable, she set forth to wander after him, crying, "Ah! my
beloved husband. My husband of the bird form!" Notwithstanding that
she had not slept or left off toiling for seven days and seven nights,
she set out, without stopping to take rest, searching for him every
where in earth and heaven (4).
At last, as she continued walking and crying out, she heard his voice
answering her from the top of a mountain. And when she had toiled up to
the top of the mountain, crying aloud after him, she heard him answer
her from the bottom of a stream. When she came down again to the banks
of the stream, still calling loudly upon him, there she found him by
a sacred Obö, raised to the gods by the wayside (5). He sat there with
a great bundle of old boots upon his back, as many as he could carry.
When they had met, he said to her, "This meeting with thee once
more rejoices my heart. The gods and dæmons have made me their
water-carrier; and in toiling up and down from the river to their
mountain (6) so many times, I have worn out all these pairs of boots."
But she answered, "Tell me, O beloved, what can I do to deliver thee
from this bondage?"
And he answered, "There is only this remedy, O faithful one. Even
that thou return now home, and build another cage like to the one
that was burned, and that having built it, thou woo my soul back
into it. Which when thou hast done, I myself must come back thither,
nor can gods or dæmons withhold me."
So she went back home, and built a cage like to the one that was
burned, and wooed the soul of her husband back into it; and thus
was her husband delivered from the power of the gods and dæmons,
and came back to her to live with her always.
"In truth that was a glorious woman for a wife!" exclaimed the Khan.
"Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan hath opened
his lips," replied the Siddhî-kür. And with the cry, "To escape out of
this world is good!" he sped him through the air, swift out of sight.
Thus far of the Adventures of the Well-and-wise-walking Khan the
seventh chapter, of how it befell the White Bird and his Wife.