Long ages ago there lived a King named Gandharva. To him was wedded
Udsesskülengtu-Gôa-Chatun (1), the all-charming daughter of the mighty
king Galindari.
Gandharva was a noble King, and ruled the world with justice and
piety. Nevertheless Gandharva had no heir, though he prayed continually
to Buddha that he might have a son. And as he thus prayed and mourned
continually, Udsesskülengtu-Gôa came to him one day, and said, "My
lord, since thou art thus grieved at heart because no heir is given
to us, take now unto thee another wife, even a wife from among thy
people, and perhaps so shalt thou be blessed with succession to the
throne." And her words pleased the King, and he chose a wife of low
degree, and married her, and in due time she bore him a son.
But when Udsesskülengtu-Gôa, the all-charming one, saw that the heart
of the King was taken from her, and given to the wife of low degree,
because she had borne him a son, while she was less favoured by heaven,
she was grieved in spirit, and said within herself, "What shall I
do now that the heart of my lord is taken from me? Was it not by my
father's aid that he attained the throne? And was it not even by my
advice that he took this wife who has borne him a son? And yet his
heart is taken from me." Nevertheless she complained not to him,
but mourned by herself apart.
Then one of her maidens, when she saw her thus mourning apart, came to
her, and said, "Is there not living by the kaitja (2), on the other
side of the mountain, a lama, possessed of prodigious powers? Who
shall say but that he might find a remedy for the grief of the Khan's
wife." And Udsesskülengtu-Gôa listened to the maiden's words, and
leaving off from mourning, she rose, and called to her four of the
maidens, and prepared her to make the journey to visit the holy man
at the kaitja, on the other side the mountain, taking with her good
provision of tea (3) and other things needful for the journey.
Arrived at the kaitja, she made the usual obeisance, and would
have opened her suit; but the hermit was at that moment sunk in his
meditations, and paid her no heed until she had three times changed
(4) her place of kneeling. Then he said, "Exalted Queen! what grief or
what necessity brings thee hither to this kaitja thus devoutly?" And
when she had told him all her story, he replied,--
"Mayst thou be blessed with succession to the throne and with many
children to gladden thee." At the same time he gave her a handful
of earth, bidding her boil it in oil--sesame oil (5)--in a porcelain
vessel, and eat it all up.
The Queen returned home, and, believing in the promise of the hermit,
she boiled the earth in sesame oil in a new porcelain vessel, when
behold it was changed into barley porridge; but she neglected to eat
up the whole of it. Some time after the maiden who had counselled the
visit to the hermit, seeing that some of the porridge still remained
in the porcelain vessel, she also ate of it, saying, "Who knows what
blessing it may bring to me also?"
Many months had not passed when all manner of propitious tokens
appeared upon the land. Showers of brilliant blossoms fell in place
of rain from heaven, the melodious voice of the kalavinka (6) made
itself heard, and delicious perfumes filled the air. In the midst of
this rejoicing of nature the Queen bore the King a son.
The gladness of the King knew no bounds that now he had an heir to the
throne who was born of a princess and not of a wife of low degree, and
he ordered public rejoicings throughout the whole kingdom. Further, in
his joy he sent an expedition, with the younger wife at its head, and
many great men of state, to go to the lama of the kaitja, on the other
side of the mountain, and learn what should be the fate of the child.
When they came to him he was again sunk in his meditations; but
when they had opened their matter to him, almost without looking up,
he replied,--
"Tell the King your master that there be got ready for the child
against he grow up fifteen thousand waggon-loads of salt, for that
will be but small compared with what will be required for the use of
his kitchen."
With such a message the expedition returned to the King.
When Gandharva heard the prognostics of the hermit, he was struck with
astonishment, and with indignation against the child, not understanding
the intention of the words. Then he called together the people and
announced the thing to them, adding these words, "Of a truth the
child must be a hundredfold a schimnu; how could a man use fifteen
thousand waggon-loads of salt for the seasoning of his food? It is
not good for such an one to live. Let him be taken forth and slain!"
But his ministers interceded with him and said, "Nay, shall the son
of the King and the heir to his royal throne be slain? Shall we not
rather take him to some solitary place and leave him to his fate in
a thick wood?"
And the King found their words good; so two of his ministers took
the child a long way off to a solitary place, and left him exposed
in a thick wood. But as they turned to go away, and one of them yet
lingered, the child called after him, saying,--
"Wait a little space, sir minister; I have a word to say to you!"
And the minister stood still in great astonishment. But the child said,
"Bear these words faithfully unto the King:--
"It is said that when the young of the peacock are first fledged their
feathers are all of one blue colour, but afterwards, as they increase
in proportions, their plumage assumes the splendid hues admired by
men. Even so when a King's son is born. For a while he remains under
the tutelage of his parents; but if, when he has come to man's estate,
he would be a great king, worthy to be called king of the four parts
of the universe (7), it will behove him to call together the princes
of the four parts of the universe to a great assemblage and prepare
for them a sacred festival (8), at which such may be their number who
may come together to honour it, that fifteen thousand waggon-loads
of salt may even fall short of what is required!
"So the parrots, when they first break through their egg-shell, appear
very much like any other birds, but when they are full grown they learn
the speech of man and grow in sagacity and wisdom (9). Even so when a
King's son is born. For a while he remains under the tutelage of his
parents; but when he comes to man's estate, if he would be a mighty
king, worthy of being called king of the four parts of the universe,
it will behove him to call together all kings and devas and princes of
the earth, with all the countless Bodhisattvas, and all the priests
of religion, and prepare for them a great religious banquet. At such
a banquet it is well if fifteen thousand waggon-loads of salt suffice
for the seasoning. This for your King."
The minister took the message of the child word for word to the
Gandharva, who when he heard it clasped his hands in agony and rose
up, saying,--
"What is this that I have done! Of a certainty the child was a
Bodhisattva (10). But it is the truth that what I did to him I did in
ignorance. Run now swiftly and fetch me back my son." The minister
therefore set out on his way without stopping to take breath; but
what haste soever he made the King's eagerness was greater, and at
the head of a great body of the people Gandharva himself took his way
in all speed to the place in the thick grove where they had laid the
child. And since he did not find him at the first, he broke out into
loud lamentations, saying,--
"0 thou, mine own Bodhisattva! who so young yet speakest words of
wisdom, even young as thou art exercise also mercy and forgiveness. O
how was I mistaken in thee! Set it not down to me that I knew thee
not!"
While he wandered about searching and thus lamenting, the cry of
a child made itself heard from the depths of a grotto there was in
the grove, which when the King had entered he found eight princes
of the serpent-gods (11) busy tending the child. Some had woven for
him a covering of lotus-blossoms; others were dropping honey into
his mouth; others were on their knees, bowing their foreheads to the
ground before him. Thus he saw them engaged, only when he entered the
cave they all at once disappeared without leaving a trace behind (12).
Then the King laid the child on a litter borne by eight principal
men, and amid continual lamenting of his fault, saying, "O my son,
Bodhisattva, be merciful; I indeed am thy father," he brought him to
his dwelling, where he proclaimed him before all the people the most
high and mighty Prince Vikramâditja.
When the Sûta had concluded this narrative, he turned to
Ardschi-Bordschi and said,--
"Thus was Vikramâditja wise in his earliest youth; thus even in infancy
he earned the homage of his own father; thus was he innately great
and lofty and full of majesty. If thou, O Ardschi-Bordschi! art thus
nobly born, thus indwelt with power and might, then come and mount this
throne; but, if otherwise, then on thy peril desist from the attempt."
Then Ardschi-Bordschi once more approached to ascend the throne; but
as he did so two other of the sculptured figures, relinquishing their
guardant attitude, stood forward to bar the way, the warrior-figure
striking him on the breast, and the Sûta thus addressing him,--
"Halt! O Ardschi-Bordschi! as yet hast thou but heard the manner of
the wonderful birth of Vikramâditja; as yet knowest thou not what
was the manner of his youth."