Long ages ago there lived among the subjects of a great kingdom
six youths who were all boon companions. One was a smith's son, and
one was a wood-carver's son; one was a painter's son, and one was a
doctor's son; one was an accountant's son, and one was a rich man's
son, who had no trade or profession, but plenty of money.
These six determined on taking a journey to find the opportunity of
establishing themselves in life; so they all six set out together,
having taken leave of their friends, and the rich man's son providing
the cost.
When they had journeyed on a long way together without any thing
particular befalling them, as they were beginning to weary of carrying
on the same sort of life day by day, they came to a place where the
waters of six streams met, flowing thither from various directions,
and they said, "All these days we have journeyed together, and none of
us have met with the opportunity of settling or making a living. Let
us now each go forth alone, each one following back the course of one
of these rivers to its source, and see what befalls us then." So each
planted a tree at the head of the stream he chose, and they agreed that
all should meet again at the same spot, and if any failed to appear,
and his tree had withered away, it should be taken as a token that
evil had befallen him, and that then his companions should follow
his river, and search for him and deliver him.
Having come to this agreement, each one went his way.
The rich man's son followed the wanderings of his stream without
falling in with any one till he had reached the very source of the
river-head; here was a meadow skirting a forest, and on the border of
the forest a dwelling. Towards this dwelling the youth directed his
steps. There lived here an ancient man along with his ancient wife,
who when they saw the youth opening the gate cried out to him,--
"Young man! wherefore comest thou hither, and whence comest thou?"
"I come from a far country," answered the youth, "and I am journeying
to find the occasion of settling myself in life; and thus journeying,
my steps have brought me hither."
When the ancient man and his wife saw that he was a comely youth and
well-spoken, they said, "If this is indeed so, it is well that thy
steps have brought thee hither, for we have here a beautiful daughter,
charming in form and delightful in conversation; take her and become
our son."
As they said these words the daughter appeared on the threshold of
the dwelling, and when the youth saw her he said within himself,
"This is no common child of earth, but one of the daughters of the
heavenly gods (1). What better can befall me than that I should marry
her and live here the rest of my days in her company?"
The maiden, too, said to him, "It is well, O youth, that thy steps
have brought thee hither." Thus they began conversing together, and
the youth established himself on the spot and lived with his wife in
peace and happiness.
This dwelling, however, was within the dominions of a mighty Khan. One
day, as his minions were disporting themselves in the river, they
found a ring all set with curious jewels, in cunning workmanship,
which the rich youth's wife had dropped while bathing, and the stream
had carried it along to where the Khan's minions were. As the ring
was wonderful to behold, they brought it to the Khan.
The eyes of the Khan, who was a man of understanding, no sooner
lighted on the ring than he turned and said to his attendants,--
"Somewhere on the borders of this stream, and higher up its course,
lives a most beautiful woman, more beautiful than all the wives of
the Khan; go fetch her and bring her to me."
The Khan's attendants set out on their mission, and visited all the
dwellers on the banks of the stream, but they found no woman exceeding
in beauty all the wives of the Khan till they came to the wife of
the rich youth. When they saw her, they had no doubt it must be she
that the Khan had meant. Saying, therefore, "The Khan hath sent for
thee," they carried her off to the palace; but the rich youth followed
mourning, as near as he could approach.
When the Khan saw her, he said, "This is of a truth no child of earth;
she must be the daughter of the heavenly gods. Beside of her all my
other wives are but as dogs and swine," and he took her and placed her
far above them all. But she only wept, and could think of nothing but
the rich youth. When the Khan saw how she wept and thought only of the
rich youth, he said to his courtiers, "Rid me of this fellow." And so,
to please the Khan, they treacherously invited him to a lone place
on the bank of the river, as if to join in some game; but when they
had got him there they thrust him into a hole in the ground, and then
rolled a piece of rock on the top of it, and so put him to death.
In the meantime, the day came round on which the six companions
had agreed to come together at the spot where the six streams met;
and there the five others arrived in due course, but the rich youth
came not; and when they looked at the tree he had planted by the
side of his stream, behold, it had withered away. In accordance with
their promise, therefore, they all set out to follow the course of his
stream and to search him out. But when they had wandered on a long way
and found no trace of him, the accountant's son sat down to reckon,
and by his reckoning he discovered that he must have gone so far into
such a kingdom, and that he must lie buried under a rock. Following
the course of his reckoning, the five soon came upon the spot where
the rich youth lay buried under the rock. But when they saw how big
the rock was, they said, "Who shall suffice to remove the rock and
uncover the body of our companion?"
"That will I!" cried the smith's son, and, taking his hammer, he
broke the rock in pieces and brought to light the body of the rich
youth. When his companions saw him they were filled with compassion
and cried aloud, "Who shall give back to us our friend, the companion
of our youth?"
"That will I!" cried the doctor's son, and he mixed a potion which,
when he had given it to the corpse to drink, gave him power to rise
up as if no harm had ever befallen him.
When they saw him all well again, and free to speak, they every one
came round him, assailing him with manifold questions upon how he
had fallen into this evil plight, and upon all that had happened to
him since they parted. But when he had told them all his story from
beginning to end, they all agreed his wife must have been a wonderful
maiden indeed, and they cried out, "Who shall be able to restore his
wife to our brother?"
"That will I!" cried the wood-carver's son. "And I!" cried the
painter's son.
So the wood-carver's son set to work, and of the log of a tree he
hewed out a Garuda-bird (2), and fashioned it with springs, so that
when a man sat in it he could direct it this way or that whithersoever
he listed to go; and the painter's son adorned it with every pleasant
colour. Thus together they perfected a most beautiful bird.
The rich youth lost no time in placing himself inside the beautiful
garuda-bird, and, touching the spring, flew straight away right over
the royal palace.
The king was in the royal gardens, with all his court about him, and
quickly espied the garuda-bird, and esteemed himself fortunate that
the beautiful garuda-bird, the king of birds, the bearer of Vishnu,
should have deigned to visit his residence; and because he reckoned
no one else was worthy of the office, he appointed the most beautiful
of his wives to go up and offer it food.
Accordingly, the wife of the rich youth herself went up on to the
roof of the palace with food to the royal bird. But the rich youth,
when he saw her approach, opened the door of the wooden garuda and
showed himself to her. Nor did she know how to contain herself for
delight when she found he was therein.
"Never had I dared hope that these eyes should light on thee again,
joy of my heart!" she exclaimed. "How madest thou then the garuda-bird
obedient to thy word to bring thee hither?"
But he, full only of the joy of finding her again, and that she still
loved him as before, could only reply,--
"Though thou reignest now in a palace as the Khan's wife in splendour
and wealth, if thine heart yet belongeth to me thine husband, come
up into the garuda-bird, and we will fly away out of the power of
the Khan for ever."
To which she made answer, "Truly, though I reign now in the palace as
the Khan's wife in splendour and wealth, yet is my heart and my joy
with thee alone, my husband. Of what have my thoughts been filled
all through these days of absence, but of thee only, and for whom
else do I live?"
With that she mounted into the wooden garuda-bird into the arms of
her husband, and full of joy they flew away together.
But the Khan and his court, when they saw what had happened, were
dismayed.
"Because I sent my most beautiful wife to carry food to the
garuda-bird, behold she is taken from me," cried the Khan, and he
threw himself on the ground as if he would have died of grief.
But the rich youth directed the flight of the wooden garuda-bird,
so that it regained the place where his five companions awaited him.
"Have your affairs succeeded?" inquired they, as he descended.
"That they have abundantly," answered the rich youth.
While he spoke, his wife had also descended out of the wooden
garuda-bird, whom when his five companions saw, they were all as madly
smitten in love with her as the Khan himself had been, and they all
began to reason with one another about it.
But the rich youth said, "True it is to you, my dear and faithful
companions, I owe it that by means of what you have done for me,
I have been delivered from the power of cruel death, and still more
that there has been restored to me my wife, who is yet dearer far to
me. For this, my gratitude will not be withheld; but what shall all
this be to me if you now talk of tearing her from mine arms again?"
Upon which the accountant's son stood forward and said, "It is to me
thou owest all. What could these have done for thee without the aid
of my reckoning? They wandered hither and thither and found not the
place of thy burial, until I had reckoned the thing, and told them
whither to go. To me thou owest thy salvation, so give me thy wife
for my guerdon."
But the smith's son stood forward and said, "It is to me thou owest
all. What could all these have done for thee without the aid of mine
arm? It was very well that they should come and find the spot where
thou wert held bound by the rock; but all they could do was to stand
gazing at it. Only the might of my arm shattered it. It is to me thou
owest all, so give me thy wife for my guerdon."
Then the doctor's son stood forward and said, "It is to me thou owest
all. What could all these have done without the aid of my knowledge? It
was well that they should find thee, and deliver thee from under the
rock; but what would it have availed had not my potion restored thee to
life? It is to me thou owest all, so give me thy wife for my guerdon."
"Nay!" interposed the wood-carver's son, "nay, but it is to my craft
thou owest all. The woman had never been rescued from the power of the
Khan but by means of my wooden garuda-bird. Behold, are we six unarmed
men able to have laid siege to the Khan's palace? And as no man is
suffered to pass within its portal, never had she been reached, but
by means of my bird. So it is I clearly who have most claim to her."
"Not so!" cried the painter's son. "It is to my art the whole is
due. What would the garuda-bird have availed had I not painted it
divinely? Unless adorned by my art never had the Khan sent his most
beautiful wife to offer it food. To me is due the deliverance, and
to me the prize, therefore."
Thus they all strove together; and as they could not agree which should
have her, and she would go with none of them but only the rich youth,
her husband, they all seized her to gain possession of her, till in
the end she was torn in pieces.
"Then if each one had given her up to the other he would have been no
worse off," cried the Prince. And as he let these words escape him, the
Siddhî-kür replied, "Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking
Khan hath opened his lips." And with the cry, "To escape out of this
world is good!" he sped him through the air, swift out of sight.
Of the Adventures of the Well-and-wise-walking Khan the ninth chapter,
of the story of Five to One.