The Katha Sarit Sagara or Ocean of the Streams of Story Part 17

Story of king Vikramaditya and the treacherous mendicant.

Long ago a mendicant named Prapanchabuddhi used to enter my hall of audience in Pataliputra every day and give me a box. For a whole year I gave these boxes, just as they were, unopened into the hand of my treasurer. One day, one of those boxes presented by the mendicant by chance fell from my hand on to the ground, and burst open. And a great jewel fell out of it, glittering like fire, and it appeared as if it were the mendicant's heart which I had not discerned before, revealed by him. When I saw that, I took it, and I had those other boxes brought which he had presented to me, and opened them, and took a jewel out of every one of them. Then in astonishment I asked Prapanchabuddhi--"Why do you court me with such splendid jewels?" Then that mendicant took me aside, and said to me--"On the fourteenth day of the black fortnight now approaching I have to perform a certain incantation at night-fall, in a cemetery outside this town. I desire you, my hero, to come and take part in that enterprise, for success is easily obtained, when the obstacles to it are swept away by the aid of a hero." When the mendicant said this to me, I agreed. So he went off delighted, and in a few days the fourteenth night of the black fortnight came, and I remembered the speech of that ascetic. [563]

Then I performed my daily observances, and waited for the night, and after I had recited the evening prayer, it happened that I rapidly fell asleep. Then the adorable Hari, who is compa.s.sionate to his votaries, appeared to me in a dream, mounted on Garuda, with his breast marked with a lotus, and thus commanded me--"My son, this Prapanchabuddhi [564] is rightly named, for he will inveigle you into the cemetery to take part in the incantation of the circle, [565] and will offer you up as a victim. So do not do what he tells you to do with the object of slaying you, but say to him--'You do it first, and when I have learned the way, I will do it.' Then, as he is shewing you the way, take advantage of the opportunity, and slay him immediately, and you will acquire the power that he desires to obtain." When Vishnu had said this, he disappeared, and I woke up and thought--"By the favour of Hari I have detected that magician, and this day I must slay him." Having thus reflected, when the first watch of the night was gone, I went, sword in hand, alone to that cemetery. There I beheld that mendicant, who had performed the ceremony of the circle incantation, and when the treacherous fellow saw me, he welcomed me, and said, "King, close your eyes, and fall at full length on the ground with your face downwards, and in this way both of us will attain our ends." Then I answered him--"Do it yourself first. Shew me how to do it, and, after I have learned, I will do precisely as you do." When the mendicant heard that, like a fool, he fell on the earth, and I cut off his head with a stroke of my sword. [566] Then a voice was heard from the air--"Bravo, king! By offering up to-day this rascally mendicant thou hast obtained the power of going through the air, which he wished to obtain. I, the G.o.d of wealth, that move about at will, am pleased with thy courage. So, ask me for another boon, whatever thou mayest desire." After saying this, he manifested himself, and I, bowing before him, said,--"When I shall supplicate thee, adorable one, thou shalt appear on my thinking of thee, and grant me a suitable boon." The G.o.d of wealth said--"So be it"--and disappeared. And having obtained magic power, I went back quickly to my own palace. Thus I have told you my adventure, so by means of that boon of Kuvera I must now recompense Madanamala. And you must now go back to Pataliputra, taking with you my disguised Rajput retinue, and I, as soon as I have in a novel way recompensed my beloved, will immediately go there, with the intention of returning here." Having said this, and having performed his daily duties, the king dismissed his minister with his retinue. He said, "So be it" and departed, and the king spent that night with Madanamala, anxious about his approaching separation. She too, embracing him frequently, because her heart seemed to tell her that he was going to a distance, did not sleep all that night.

In the morning the king, having performed all his necessary duties, entered a chapel for the daily wors.h.i.+p of the G.o.ds, on the pretence of repeating prayers. And there the G.o.d of wealth appeared before him on his thinking of him, and bowing before him the king craved that boon formerly promised, in the following words--"O G.o.d, give me here to-day in accordance with that boon, which you promised me, five great indestructible golden figures of men, such that, though their limbs may be continually cut off for any desired use, those very limbs will grow again, exactly as before." The G.o.d of wealth said, "Even so; be there unto thee five such figures as thou desirest!" Having said this, he immediately disappeared. And the king immediately beheld those five great golden figures of men suddenly standing in the chapel; then he went out delighted, and not forgetting his promise, he flew up into the air and went to his city of Pataliputra. There he was welcomed by his ministers, and the citizens and his wives, and he remained engaged in his kingly duties, while his heart was far away in Pratishthana. In the meanwhile, in Pratishthana, that beloved of his entered that chapel to see her love, who had entered it long before. And when she entered, she did not perceive that beloved king anywhere, but she beheld five gigantic golden figures of men. When she saw them, and did not find him, she reflected in her grief--"Surely that love of mine was some Vidyadhara or Gandharva, who bestowed upon me these men and flew away up to heaven.

"So what am I to do with these figures, which are all a mere burden, now that I am deprived of him?" Thus reflecting she asked her servants over and over again for news of him, and went out and roamed all about her domain. And she found no satisfaction anywhere, either in the palaces, the gardens, the chambers or other places, but she kept lamenting, grieved at being separated from her lover, ready to abandon the body.

Her attendants tried to comfort her, saying, "Do not despair, mistress, for he is some G.o.d roaming about at will, and when he pleases, he will return to you, fair one." With such hope-inspiring words did they at length so far console her that she made this vow--"If in six months he does not grant me to behold him, I will give away all my property and enter the fire." With this promise she fortified herself, and remained every day giving alms, thinking on that beloved of hers. And one day, she cut off both the arms of one of those golden men, and gave them to the Brahmans, being intent on charity only. And the next day she perceived with astonishment that both arms had grown again, exactly as they were before. Then she proceeded to cut off the arms of the others, to give them away, and the arms of all of them grew again as they were before. Then she saw that they were indestructible, and every day she cut off the arms of the figures and gave them to studious Brahmans, according to the number of the Vedas they had read.

And in a few days a Brahman, named Sangramadatta, having heard the fame of her bounty, which was spread abroad in every direction, came from Pataliputra. He being poor, but acquainted with four Vedas, and endowed with virtues, entered into her presence desiring a gift, being announced by the door-keepers. She gave him as many arms of the golden figures as he knew Vedas, after bowing before him with limbs emaciated with her vow and pale with separation from her beloved. Then the Brahman, having heard from her sorrow-stricken attendants the whole of her story, ending in that very terrible vow, was delighted, but at the same time despondent, and loading two camels with those golden arms went to his native city, Pataliputra. Then that Brahman, thinking that his gold would not be safe there, unless guarded by the king, entered the king's presence and said to him, while he was sitting in the hall of judgment; "Here I am, O great king, a Brahman who am an inhabitant of thy town. I, being poor, and desiring wealth, went to the southern clime, and arrived at a city named Pratishthana, belonging to king Narasinha. There, being desirous of a donation, I went to the house of Madanamala, a hetaera of distinguished fame. For with her there lived long some divine being, who departed somewhere or other, after giving her five indestructible figures of men. Then the high-spirited woman became afflicted at his departure, and considering life to be poison-agony, and the body, that fruitless acc.u.mulation of delusion, to be merely a punishment for thieving, lost her patience, and being with difficulty consoled by her attendants made this vow--"If in the s.p.a.ce of six months he does not visit me, I must enter the fire, my soul being smitten by adversity." Having made this vow she, being resolved on death, and desiring to perform good actions, gives away every day very large gifts. And I beheld her, king, with tottering feet, conspicuous for the beauty of her person, though it was thin from fasting; with hand moistened with the water of giving, surrounded with maids like cl.u.s.tering bees, sorely afflicted, looking like the incarnation of the mast condition of the elephant of love. [567] And I think that lover who deserts her, and causes by his absence that fair one to abandon the body, deserves blame, indeed deserves death. She to-day gave to me, who know the four Vedas, four golden arms of human figures, according to right usage, proportioning her gift to the number of my Vedas. So I wish to purify my house with sacrifice, and to follow a life of religion here; therefore let the king grant me protection."

The king Vikramaditya, hearing these tidings of his beloved from the mouth of the Brahman, had his mind suddenly turned towards her. And he commanded his door-keeper to do what the Brahman wished, and thinking how constant was the affection of his mistress, who valued her life as stubble, and in his impatience supposing that she would be able to a.s.sist him in accomplis.h.i.+ng his vow, and remembering that the time fixed for her abandoning the body had almost arrived, he quickly committed his kingdom to the care of his ministers, and flying through the air reached Pratishthana, and entered the house of his beloved. There he beheld his beloved, with raiment pellucid like the moonlight, having given her wealth away to Pandits, [568] attenuated like a digit of the moon at the time of its change. Madanamala, for her part, on beholding him arrived unexpectedly, the quintessence of nectar to her eyes, was for a moment like one amazed. Then she embraced him, and threw round his neck the noose of her arms, as if fearing that he would escape again. And she said to him with a voice, the accents of which were choked with tears, "Cruel one, why did you depart and forsake my innocent self?" The king said, "Come, I will tell you in private," and went inside with her, welcomed by her attendants. There he revealed to her who he was, and described his circ.u.mstances, how he came there to conquer king Narasinha by an artifice, and how, after slaying Prapanchabuddhi, he acquired the power of flying in the air, and how he was enabled to reward her by a boon that he obtained from the lord of wealth, and how, hearing tidings of her from a Brahman, he had returned there. Having told the whole story beginning with the subject of his vow, he again said to her--"So my beloved, that king Narasinha, being very mighty, is not to be conquered by armies, and he contended with me in single combat, but I did not slay him, for I possess the power of flying in the air, and he can only go on the earth, for who, that is a true Kshatriya, would desire to conquer in an unfair combat? The object of my vow is, that that king may be announced by the heralds as waiting at the door; do you a.s.sist me in that?"

When the hetaera heard this, she said, "I am honoured by your request," and summoning her heralds she said to them--"When the king Narasinha shall come to my house, you must stand near the door with attentive eyes, and while he is entering, you must say again and again--"King, prince Narasinha is loyal and devoted to thee." And when he looks up and asks--"Who is here?"--you must immediately say to him--"Vikramaditya is here." After giving them these orders, she dismissed them, and then she said to the female warder--"You must not prevent king Narasinha from entering here." After issuing these orders, Madanamala remained in a state of supreme felicity, having regained the lord of her life, and gave away her wealth fearlessly.

Then king Narasinha, having heard of that profuse liberality of hers, which was due to her possession of the golden figures, though he had given her up, came to visit her house. And while he entered, not being forbidden by the warder, all the heralds shouted in a loud voice, beginning at the outer door, "King, prince Narasinha is submissive and devoted." When that sovereign heard that, he was angry and alarmed, and when he asked who was there, and found out that king Vikramaditya was there, he waited a moment and went through the following reflections; "So this king has forced his way into my kingdom, and carried out the vow he made long ago, that I should be announced at his door. In truth this king is a man of might, since he has thus beaten me to-day. And I must not slay him by force, since he has come alone to a house in my dominions. So I had better enter now." Having thus reflected, king Narasinha entered, announced by all the heralds. And king Vikramaditya, on beholding him enter with a smile on his face, rose up also with smiling countenance and embraced him. Then those two kings sat down and enquired after one another's welfare, while Madanamala stood by their side.

And in the course of conversation Narasinha asked Vikramaditya where he had obtained those golden figures. Then Vikramaditya told him the whole of that strange adventure of his, how he had slain the base ascetic, and acquired the power of flying through the air, and how, by virtue of the boon of the G.o.d of wealth, he had obtained five indestructible gigantic golden figures. Then king Narasinha chose that king for his friend, discovering that he was of great might, that he possessed the power of flying, and that he had a good heart. And having made him his friend, he welcomed him with the prescribed rites of hospitality, and taking him to his own palace, he entertained him with all the attentions paid to himself. And king Vikramaditya, after having been thus honoured, was dismissed by him, and returned to the house of Madanamala. Then Vikramaditya, having accomplished his difficult vow by his courage and intelligence, determined to go to his own city. And Madanamala, being unable to remain separated from him, was eager to accompany him, and with the intention of abandoning her native land, she bestowed her dwelling upon the Brahmans. Then Vikramaditya, the moon of kings, went with her, whose mind was exclusively fixed on him, to his own city of Pataliputra, followed by her elephants, horses, and footmen. There he remained in happiness, (accompanied by Madanamala, who had abandoned her own country for his love,) having formed an alliance with king Narasinha.

"Thus, king, even hetaerae are occasionally of n.o.ble character and as faithful to kings as their own wives, much more then matrons of high birth." On hearing this n.o.ble tale from the mouth of Marubhuti, the king Naravahanadatta, and his new wife Ratnaprabha sprung from the glorious race of the Vidyadharas, were much delighted.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

When Marubhuti had told this story there, the commander-in-chief Harisikha said in the presence of Naravahanadatta--"It is true, good women value nothing more than their husbands, and in proof of it, listen now to this still more wonderful tale."

Story of Sringabhuja and the daughter of the Rakshasa.

There is a city on the earth named Vardhamana, and in it there dwelt a king named Virabhuja, chief of righteous men. And though he had a hundred wives, one queen of the name of Gunavara was dearer to him than his life. And in spite of his hundred wives, it happened, as Fate would have it, that not one of them bore him a son. So he asked a physician named Srutavardhana--"Is there any medicine able to bring about the birth of a son?" When the physician heard that, he said--"King, I can prepare such a medicine, [569] but the king must procure for me a wild goat." When he heard this speech of the physician's, the king gave an order to the warder, and had a goat brought for him from the forest. The physician handed over the goat to the king's cooks, and with its flesh prepared a sovereign elixir for the queens. The king went off to wors.h.i.+p his G.o.d, after ordering the queens to a.s.semble in one place. And ninety-nine of those queens did a.s.semble in one place, but the queen Gunavara alone was not present there, for she was at that time near the king, who was engaged in praying to his G.o.d. And when they had a.s.sembled, the physician gave them the whole of the elixir to drink mixed with powder, not perceiving the absence of Gunavara. Immediately the king returned with his beloved, having performed his devotions, and perceiving that that drug was completely finished, he said to the physician--"What! did you not keep any for Gunavara? You have forgotten the princ.i.p.al object with which this was undertaken." After saying this to the abashed physician, the king said to the cooks--"Is there any of the flesh of that goat left?" The cooks said, "The horns only remain." Then the physician said, "Bravo! I can make an admirable elixir out of the centre of the horns." After saying this, the physician had an elixir prepared from the fleshy part of the horns, and gave it to queen Gunavara mixed with powder. Then the ninety-nine wives of the king became pregnant, and all in time brought forth sons. But the head queen Gunavara conceived last of all, and afterwards gave birth to a son with more auspicious marks than the sons of all the others. And as he was sprung from the juice of the fleshy part of the horns, his father, the king, gave him the name of Sringabhuja, and rejoiced greatly at his birth. He grew up with those other brothers, and though in age he was the youngest of all, he was superior to all in good qualities. And in course of time that prince became like the G.o.d of Love in beauty, and like Arjuna in his skill in archery, and like Bhima in strength. Accordingly the other queens, seeing that queen Gunavara, now that she had this son, was more than ever dear to king Virabhuja, became jealous of her.

Then an evil-minded queen among them, named Ayasolekha, deliberated with all the others and entered into a conspiracy; and when the king came home one day, she exhibited an a.s.sumed sadness in her face. The king asked her the reason, and she said with apparent reluctance--"My husband, why do you endure patiently the disgrace of your house? you avert disgrace from others, why do you not avert it from yourself? You know the young superintendent of the women's apartments named Suraks.h.i.+ta; your queen Gunavara is secretly devoted to him. Since no man but he can penetrate into the women's apartments, which are strictly watched by guards, she a.s.sociates with him. And this is a well-known subject of gossip in the whole harem." When she said this to the king, he pondered and reflected; and went and asked the other queens one after another in private, and they were faithful to their treacherous plot, and told him the same story. Then that wise king conquered his anger, and reflected--"This accusation against these two is improbable, and yet such is the gossip. So I must not without reflecting reveal the matter to any one; but they must by an artifice be separated now, to enable me to see the termination of the whole matter." Having determined on this, next day he summoned Suraks.h.i.+ta, the superintendent of the womens' apartments, into his judgment-hall, and with a.s.sumed anger, said to him--"I have learned, villain, that you have slain a Brahman, so I cannot endure to see your face until you have made a pilgrimage to holy places." When he heard that, he was amazed and began to murmur--"How can I have slain a Brahman, my sovereign?" But the king went on to say; "Do not attempt to brazen it out, but go to Kasmir to wash away your sin, (where are those holy fields, Vijayakshetra, and Nandikshetra the purifying, and the kshetra [570] of the Boar), the land which was hallowed by Vishnu the bow-handed G.o.d, where the stream of the Ganges bears the name of Vitasta, where is the famous Mandapakshetra, and where is Uttaramanasa; when your sin has been washed away by a pilgrimage to these holy places, you shall behold my face again, but not till then."

With this speech the king Virabhuja dismissed the helpless Suraks.h.i.+ta, sending him to a distance on the pretence of a pilgrimage to holy places. Then the king went into the presence of that queen Gunavara, full of love and anger and sober reflection. Then she, seeing that his mind was troubled, asked him anxiously, "My husband, why are you seized to-day with a sudden fit of despondency?" When the king heard that, he gave her this feigned answer--"To-day, queen, a great astrologer came to me and said--'King, you must place the queen Gunavara for some time in a dungeon, and you must yourself live a life of chast.i.ty, otherwise your kingdom will certainly be overthrown, and she will surely die.' Having said this, the astrologer departed; hence my present despondency." When the king said this, the queen Gunavara, who was devoted to her husband, distracted with fear and love, said to him--"Why do you not cast me this very day into a dungeon, my husband? I am highly favoured, if I can benefit you even at the sacrifice of my life. Let me die, but let not my lord have misfortune. For a husband is the chief refuge of wives in this world and in the next." Having heard this speech of hers, the king said to himself with tears in his eyes; "I think there is no guilt in her, nor in that Suraks.h.i.+ta, for I saw that the colour of his face did not change, and he seemed without fear. Alas! nevertheless I must ascertain the truth of that rumour." After reflecting thus, the king in his grief said to the queen--"Then it is best that a dungeon should be made here, queen!" She replied--"Very good"--so the king had a dungeon easy of access made in the women's apartments, and placed the queen in it. And he comforted her son Sringabhuja, (who was in despair and asked the reason,) by telling him exactly what he told the queen. And she, for her part, thought the dungeon heaven, because it was all for the king's good. For good women have no pleasure of their own; to them their husbands' pleasure is pleasure. [571]

When this had been done, that other wife of the king's, named Ayasolekha, said of her own accord to her son, who was named Nirvasabhuja,--"So, our enemy Gunavara has been thrown into a dungeon, and it would be a good thing if her son were banished from this country. So, my boy, devise a scheme with the help of your other brothers by which Sringabhuja may be quickly banished from the country." Having been addressed in this language by his mother, the jealous Nirvasabhuja told his other brothers, and continued to ponder over a scheme.

And one day, as the king's sons were practising with their weapons of war, they all saw an enormous crane in front of the palace. And while they were looking with astonishment at that misshapen bird, a Buddhist mendicant, who possessed supernatural knowledge, came that way and said to them--"Princes, this is not a crane, it is a Rakshasa named Agnisikha, who wanders about in an a.s.sumed shape destroying towns. So pierce him with an arrow, that being smitten he may depart hence." When they heard this speech of the mendicant's, the ninety-nine elder brothers shot their arrows, but not one struck the crane. Then that naked mendicant again said to them--"This younger brother of yours, named Sringabhuja, is able to strike this crane, so let him take a bow suitable for the purpose." When Nirvasabhuja heard that, the treacherous one remembered the injunction of his mother, an opportunity for carrying out which had now arrived, and reflected--"This will be a means of getting Sringabhuja out of the country. [572] So let us give him the bow and arrow belonging to our father. If the crane is pierced and goes off with our father's golden arrow sticking in it, Sringabhuja will follow it, while we are searching for the arrow. And when he does not find, in spite of his search, that Rakshasa transformed into a crane, he will continue to roam about hither and thither, he will not come back without the arrow." Thus reflecting, the treacherous one gave to Sringabhuja his father's bow with the arrow, in order that he might smite the crane. The mighty prince took it and drew it, and pierced that crane with the golden arrow, the notch of which was made of a jewel. The crane, as soon as it was pierced, went off with the arrow sticking in its body, and flying away departed with drops of blood falling from the wound. Then the treacherous Nirvasabhuja and the other brothers, instigated by his hints, said to the brave Sringabhuja--"Give us back the golden arrow that belongs to our father, otherwise we will abandon our bodies before your eyes. For unless we produce it, our father will banish us from this country, and its fellow is not to be made or obtained." When Sringabhuja heard that, he said to those crafty ones--"Be of good cheer! Do not be afraid--Abandon your terror! I will go and slay that miserable Rakshasa and bring back the arrow." Having said this, Sringabhuja took his own bow and arrows, and went in the same direction in which the Rakshasa had gone, quickly following up the track of the drops of blood, that had fallen on the ground. The other sons returned delighted to their mothers, and Sringabhuja, as he went on step by step, at last reached a distant forest. Seeking about in it, he found in the wood a great city, like the fruit of his own tree of merit fallen to him in due time for enjoyment. There he sat down at the root of a tree to rest, and as if in a moment beheld a maiden of wonderful beauty coming there, appearing to have been made by the Creator in some strange way of ambrosia and poison; since by her absence she deprived of life, and by her presence she bestowed it. And when the maiden slowly approached him, and looked at him with an eye raining love, the prince fell in love with her and said to her--"Gazelle-eyed one, what is the name of this city, and to whom does it belong? Who are you, and why have you come here? tell me." Then the pearly-toothed maid turned her face sideways, and fixed her eye on the ground, and spake to him with sweet and loving voice--"This city is Dhumapura, the home of all felicity; in it lives a mighty Rakshasa by name Agnisikha; know that I am his matchless daughter, Rupasikha by name, who have come here with mind captivated by your unparalleled beauty. Now you must tell me who you are, and why you have come here." When she said this, he told her who he was, and of what king he was the son, and how he had come to Dhumapura for the sake of an arrow. Then Rupasikha, having heard the whole story, said--"There is no archer like you in the three worlds, since you pierced even my father with a great arrow, when he was in the form of a crane. And I took that golden arrow for my own, by way of a plaything. But my father's wound was at once healed by the minister Mahadanshtra, who excels all men in knowledge of potent drugs for curing wounds. So I will go to my father, and after I have explained the whole matter, I will quickly introduce you into his presence, my husband; so I call you, for my heart is now fully set upon you."

Having said this, Rupasikha left Sringabhuja there, and immediately went into the presence of her father Agnisikha, and said--"Father, there has come here a wonderful prince named Sringabhuja, matchless for gifts of beauty, birth, character and age. I feel certain that he is not a man, he is some portion of a G.o.d incarnate here below, so, if he does not become my husband, I will certainly abandon my life." When she said this to him, her father the Rakshasa said to her--"My daughter, men are our appropriate food, nevertheless, if your heart is set upon it, let it be so; bring your prince here, and shew him to me." When Rupasikha heard that, she went to Sringabhuja, and after telling him what she had done, she took him into the presence of her father. He prostrated himself, and Agnisikha, the father of the maiden, after saluting him courteously, said to him--"Prince, I will give you my daughter Rupasikha, if you never disobey my orders." When he said this, Sringabhuja, bending low, answered him--"Good! I will never disobey your orders." When Sringabhuja said this to him, Agnisikha was pleased and answered--"Rise up! Go and bathe, and return here from the bath-room." After saying this to him, he said to his daughter--"Go and bring all your sisters here quickly." When Agnisikha had given these orders to Sringabhuja and Rupasikha, they both of them went out, after promising to obey them.

Then the wise Rupasikha said to Sringabhuja--"My husband, I have a hundred sisters, who are princesses, and we are all exactly alike, with similar ornaments and dresses, and all of us have similar necklaces upon our necks. So our father will a.s.semble us in one place, and in order to bewilder you, will say 'Choose your own love out of the midst of these.' For I know that such is his treacherous intention, otherwise why is he a.s.sembling all of us here. So when we are a.s.sembled, I will put my necklace on my head instead of my neck, by that sign you will recognise me; then throw over my neck the garland of forest flowers. And this father of mine is somewhat silly, he has not a discerning intellect; besides what is the use against me of those powers which he possesses by being a Rakshasa? So, whatever he says to entrap you, you must agree to, and must tell it to me, and I shall know well enough what further steps to take." Having said this, Rupasikha went to her sisters, and Sringabhuja, having agreed to do what she said, went to bathe. Then Rupasikha came with her sisters into the presence of her father, and Sringabhuja returned, after he had been washed by a female servant. Then Agnisikha gave a garland of forest flowers to Sringabhuja, saying, "Give this to that one of these ladies, who is your own love." He took the garland and threw it round the neck of Rupasikha, [573] who had previously placed the necklace on her head by way of token. Then Agnisikha said to Rupasikha and Sringabhuja,--"I will celebrate your marriage ceremony to-morrow morning."

Having said this, he dismissed those two lovers and his other daughters to their apartments, and in a short time he summoned Sringabhuja and said this to him; "Take this yoke of oxen, and go outside this town, and sow in the earth the hundred kharis [574]

of sesame-seed which are piled there in a heap." When Sringabhuja heard that, he was troubled, and he went and told it to Rupasikha, and she answered him as follows--"My husband, you need not be in the least despondent about this, go there at once; I will easily perform this by my magic power." When he heard this, the prince went there, and, seeing the sesame-seeds in a heap, despondently began to plough the land and sow them, but while he was beginning, he saw the land ploughed and all the seeds sown in due course by the might of his lady-love's magic power, and he was much astonished.

So he went to Agnisikha, and told him that this task was accomplished; then that treacherous Rakshasa again said to him--"I do not want the seeds sown, go and pile them up again in a heap." When he heard that, he again went and told Rupasikha. She sent him to that field, and created innumerable ants, [575] and by her magic power made them gather together the sesame-seeds. When Sringabhuja saw that, he went and told Agnisikha that the seeds had been piled up again in a heap.

Then the cunning but stupid Agnisikha said to him--"Only two yojanas from this place, in a southerly direction, there is an empty temple of Siva in a wood. In it lives my dear brother Dhumasikha--go there at once, and say this in front of the temple, 'Dhumasikha, I am sent by Agnisikha as a messenger to invite you and your retinue: come quickly, for to-morrow the ceremony of Rupasikha's marriage is to take place.' Having said this, come back here to-day with speed, and to-morrow marry my daughter Rupasikha." When Sringabhuja was thus addressed by the rascal, he said--"So be it"--and went and recounted the whole to Rupasikha. The good girl gave him some earth, some water, some thorns, and some fire, and her own fleet horse, and said to him--"Mount this horse and go to that temple, and quickly repeat that invitation to Dhumasikha as it was told to you, and then you must at once return on this horse at full gallop, and you must often turn your head and look round; and if you see Dhumasikha coming after you, you must throw this earth behind you in his way; if in spite of that, Dhumasikha pursues you, you must in the same manner fling the water behind you in his path; if in spite of that he comes on, you must in like manner throw these thorns in his way. If in spite of them he pursues, throw this fire in his way; and if you do this, you will return here without the Daitya; so do not hesitate--go, you shall to-day behold the power of my magic."--When she said this to him, Sringabhuja took the earth and the other things and said, "I will do so," and mounting her horse went to the temple in the wood. There he saw an image of Siva, with one of Parvati on his left and one of Ganesa on his right, and, after bowing before the Lord of the Universe, [576] he quickly addressed to Dhumasikha the form of invitation told him by Agnisikha, and fled from the place at full speed, urging on his horse. And he soon turned his head and looked round, and he beheld Dhumasikha coming after him. And he quickly threw that earth behind him in his way, and the earth, so flung, immediately produced a great mountain. When he saw that the Rakshasa had, though with difficulty, climbed over that mountain, and was coming on, the prince in the same way threw the water behind him. That produced a great river in his path with rolling waves: the Rakshasa with difficulty got across it and was coming on, when Sringabhuja quickly strewed those thorns behind him. They produced a dense th.o.r.n.y wood in Dhumasikha's path. When the Rakshasa emerged from it, the prince threw the fire behind him, which set on fire the path with the herbs and the trees. When Dhumasikha saw that the fire was hard to cross, like Khandava, [577] he returned home, tired and terrified. For on that occasion the Rakshasa was so bewildered by the magic of Rupasikha that he went and returned on his feet, he did not think of flying through the air.

Then Sringabhuja returned to Dhumapura, free from fear, commending in his heart that display of his love's magic power. He gave up the horse to the delighted Rupasikha, and related his adventure, and then went in to the presence of Agnisikha. He said, "I went and invited your brother Dhumasikha." When he said this, Agnisikha being perplexed, said to him--"If you really went there, mention some peculiarity of the place." When the crafty Rakshasa said this to Sringabhuja, he answered him--"Listen, I will tell you a token: in that temple there is a figure of Parvati on the left side of Siva, and of Ganesa on his right." When Agnisikha heard that, he was astonished and thought for a moment--"What! did he go there, and was my brother not able to devour him? Then he cannot be a mere man, he must be a G.o.d, so let him marry my daughter, as he is a fitting match for her." After thus reflecting, he sent Sringabhuja as a successful suitor to Rupasikha, but he never suspected that there was a traitor in his own family. So Sringabhuja went, eager for his marriage, and after eating and drinking with her, managed somehow to get through the night. And the next morning Agnisikha gave to him Rupasikha with all the magnificence appropriate to his magic power, according to due form, in the presence of the fire. Little in common have Rakshasas' daughters and princes, and strange the union of such! Wonderful indeed are the results of our deeds in a previous state of existence! The prince, after he had obtained that beloved daughter of the Rakshasa, seemed like a swan who had got hold of a soft lotus, sprung from mud. And he remained there with her, who was devoted to him alone, enjoying various dainty delights provided by the magic power of the Rakshasa.

When some days had pa.s.sed there, he said in secret to the Rakshasa's daughter, "Come, my beloved, let us return to the city of Vardhamana. For that is my capital city, and I cannot endure to be banished from my capital city by my enemies, for people like myself hold honour dear as life. So leave for my sake the land of your birth, though it is hard to leave; inform your father, and bring that golden arrow in your hand." When Sringabhuja said this to Rupasikha, she answered--"I must immediately obey your command. I care not for the land of my birth, nor for my relatives, you are all those to me. [578]

Good women have no other refuge than their husbands. But it will never do to communicate our intention to my father, for he would not let us go. So we must depart without that hot-tempered father of mine knowing of it. And if he hears from the attendants and comes after us, I will bewilder him by my knowledge, for he is senseless and like an idiot." When he heard this speech of hers, he set out delighted on the next day, with her who gave him the half of her kingdom, and filled a casket with priceless jewels, and brought that golden arrow; and they both mounted her splendid horse Saravega, [579] having deceived the attendants by representing that they were going for a pleasure excursion in the park, and journeyed towards Vardhamana.

When the couple had gone a long distance, the Rakshasa Agnisikha found it out, and in wrath pursued after them through the air. And hearing afar off the noise produced by the speed of his flight, Rupasikha said to Sringabhuja on the road, "My husband, my father has come to make us turn back, so remain here without fear: see how I will deceive him. For he shall neither see you nor the horse, since I shall conceal both by my deluding power." After saying this, she got down from the horse and a.s.sumed by her deluding power the form of a man. [580] And she said to a woodcutter, who had come to the forest to cut wood--"A great Rakshasa is coming here, so remain quiet for a moment." Then she continued to cut wood with his axe. And Sringabhuja looked on with a smile on his face. In the meanwhile that foolish Rakshasa arrived there, and lighted down from the air, on beholding his daughter in the shape of a woodcutter, and asked her whether she had seen a man and woman pa.s.s that way. [581] Then his daughter, who had a.s.sumed the form of a man, said with great effort as if tired, "We two have not seen any couple, as our eyes are fatigued with toil, for we two woodcutters have been occupied here in cutting a great quant.i.ty of wood to burn Agnisikha the king of the Rakshasas, who is dead." When that silly Rakshasa heard that, he thought, "What! am I dead? What then does that daughter matter to me? I will go and ask my own attendants at home whether I am dead or not." [582]

Thus reflecting, Agnisikha went quickly home, and his daughter set out with her husband as before, laughing as she went.

And soon the Rakshasa returned in high spirits, for he had asked his attendants, who could not help laughing in their sleeves, whether he was alive, and had learned that he was. Then Rupasikha, knowing from the terrible noise that he was coming again, though as yet far off, got down from the horse and concealed her husband as before by her deluding power, and taking letters from the hand of a letter-carrier, who was coming along the road, she again a.s.sumed the form of a man.

And so the Rakshasa arrived as before, and asked his daughter, who was disguised as a man--"Did you see a man and a woman on the road?" Then she, disguised as a man, answered him with a sigh,--"I beheld no such person, for my mind was absorbed with my haste, for Agnisikha, who was to-day mortally wounded in battle, and has only a little breath left in his body, and is in his capital desiring to make over his kingdom, has despatched me as a messenger to summon to his presence his brother Dhumasikha, who is living an independent life." When Agnisikha heard that, he said, "What! am I mortally wounded by my enemies?" And in his perplexity he returned again home to get information on the point. But it never occurred to him to say to himself--"Who is mortally wounded? Here I am safe and sound." Strange are the fools that the Creator produces, and wonderfully obscured with the quality of darkness! And when he arrived at home and found that the tale was false, he would not expose himself again to the laughter of the people, tired of being imposed upon, and forgetting his daughter. And Rupasikha, after deluding him, returned to her husband as before, for virtuous women know of no other good than the good of their husbands. Then Sringabhuja, mounted on the wonderful horse, again proceeded rapidly with his wife towards the city of Vardhamana. Then his father Virabhuja, having heard that he was returning in company with her, went out much pleased to meet him. The king, when he saw him adorned with that wife, like Krishna with Bhama, considered that he had gained afresh the bliss of sovereign sway. And when his son got down from his horse, and clung to his feet with his beloved, he raised him up and embraced him, and with his eye, in which stood the water of joyful tears, performed in n.o.ble wise the auspicious ceremony that put an end to his own despondency, and then conducted him into his palace, making high festival. And when he asked his son where he had been, Sringabhuja told him his whole history from the beginning. And after summoning his brothers, Nirvasabhuja and all, into his father's presence, he gave them the golden arrow. Then the king Virabhuja, after what he had heard and seen, was displeased with those other sons, and considered Sringabhuja his only true son.

Then that wise king drew this true conclusion--"I suspect that, as this son of mine out of spite was banished by these enemies, brothers only in name, though he was all the while innocent, so his mother Gunavara, whom I love so well, was falsely accused by their mothers, and was all the while innocent. So what is the use of delay? I will find out the truth of it immediately." [583] After these reflections, the king spent that day in performing his duties, and went at night to sift his other wife Ayasolekha. She was delighted to see him, and he made her drink a great quant.i.ty of wine, and she in her sleep murmured out, while the king was awake--"If we had not falsely slandered Gunavara, would the king ever have visited me here?" [584]

When the king heard this speech of the wicked queen uttered in her sleep, he felt he had attained certainty, and rose up in wrath and went out; and going to his own chamber, he had the eunuchs summoned, and said to them; "Take that Gunavara out of the dungeon, and after she has bathed bring her quickly; for the present moment was appointed by the astrologer as the limit of her stay in the dungeon for the purpose of averting the evil omens." When they heard that, they said, "So be it," and they went and quickly brought the queen Gunavara into the presence of the king, bathed and adorned. Then that wedded pair, happy in having crossed the sea of separation, spent that night unsated with mutual embraces. Then the king related to the queen with delight that adventure of Sringabhuja's, and told his son the circ.u.mstances of his mother's imprisonment and release. In the meanwhile Ayasolekha, waking up, found out that the king was gone, and guessing that he had entrapped her with his conversation, fell into deep despondency. And in the morning the king Virabhuja conducted his son Sringabhuja, with his wife Rupasikha, into the presence of Gunavara. He came, and was delighted to behold his mother emerged from the dungeon, and with his new wife he wors.h.i.+pped the feet of his parents. Gunavara, embracing her son, who had returned from his journey, and her daughter-in-law, obtained in the way above related, went from joy to joy. Then by the order of his father, Sringabhuja related to her at length his own adventure, and what Rupasikha did. Then queen Gunavara delighted, said to him, "My son, what has not that Rupasikha done for you? For she, a heroine of wonderful exploits, has given up and sacrificed for you her life, her family, her native land, these three. She must be some G.o.ddess, become incarnate for your sake by the appointment of Destiny. For she has placed her foot on the head of all women that are devoted to their husbands." When the queen had said this, the king applauded her speech, and so did Rupasikha with head modestly bent. Just at that moment the superintendent of the womens' apartments, Suraks.h.i.+ta, who had been long ago slandered by that Ayasolekha, returned from visiting all the holy bathing places. He was announced by the door-keeper, and bowed delighted at the king's foot, and then the king, who now knew the facts, honoured him exceedingly. And by his mouth he summoned the other queens who were wicked, and said to him--"Go! fling all these into the dungeon." When the queen Gunavara heard that, and the terrified women were thrown into the dungeon, she said out of compa.s.sion to the king, clinging to his feet, "King, do not keep them for a long time in the dungeon! Have mercy, for I cannot bear to see them terrified." By thus entreating the king she prevented their imprisonment, for the only vengeance that the great make use of against their enemies is compa.s.sion. Then those queens, dismissed by the king, went ashamed to their houses, and would even have preferred to have been in the embrace of death. And the king thought highly of the great-hearted Gunavara, and considered, because he possessed that wife, that he must have accomplished virtuous acts in a former state of existence. Then the king, determining to banish his other sons by an artifice, had them summoned, and spake to them this feigned speech--"I have heard that you villains have slain a Brahman traveller, so go and visit all the holy bathing-places in succession, do not remain here." When the sons heard that, they were not able to persuade the king of the truth, for when a ruler is bent on violence, who can convince him? Then Sringabhuja, beholding those brothers departing, with his eyes full of tears produced by pity, thus addressed his father. "Father, pity their one fault, have mercy upon them." Having said this, he fell at the feet of that king. And the king, thinking that that son was able to bear the burden of sovereignty, being even in his youth like an incarnation of Vishnu, full of glory and compa.s.sion, hiding his real sentiments and cheris.h.i.+ng his anger against them, nevertheless did what Sringabhuja asked. And all those brothers considered their younger brother as the saviour of their lives. And all the subjects, beholding the exceeding virtue of Sringabhuja, became attached to him.

Then the next day, his father, king Virabhuja, anointed as crown-prince Sringabhuja, who was the oldest in virtue of them all, though he had elder brothers. And then Sringabhuja, having been anointed and having obtained the leave of his father, went with all his forces to conquer the world. And having brought back the wealth of numerous kings, whom he overcame by the might of his arm, he returned, having diffused the splendour of his glory through all the earth. Then bearing the weight of the realm with his submissive brothers, the successful prince Sringabhuja, giving pleasure to his parents, who remained in the enjoyment of comfort free from anxiety, and bestowing gifts on Brahmans, dwelt at ease with Rupasikha as if with incarnate success.

"Thus virtuous women serve their husbands in every way, devoted to them alone, like Gunavara, and Rupasikha, the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law."

When Naravahanadatta, in the society of Ratnaprabha, heard this story from the lips of Harisikha, he was much delighted and exclaimed, "Bravo!" Then he rose up, and quickly performed the religious ceremony for the day, and went with his wife into the presence of his father, the king of Vatsa, and after eating, and whiling away the afternoon with singing and playing, he spent the night with his beloved in his own private apartments.

NOTE ON CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

In a Norwegian tale, called "The Widow's Son," page 295 of Thorpe's Yule-Tide Stories, will be found an incident closely resembling the pursuit of Sringabhuja by Dhumasikha. The widow's son has, contrary to the orders of a Troll, in whose house he found himself, entered several chambers, in one of which he found a thorn-whip, in another a huge stone, and a water-bottle. In the third he found a boiling copper kettle, with which he scalded his finger, but the Troll cured it with a pot of ointment. In the fourth room he found a black horse in a stall, with a trough of burning embers at its head, and a basket of hay at its tail. The youth thought this cruel, so he changed their position. The horse, to reward him, informed him that the Troll on his return would certainly kill him, and then continued, "Lay the saddle on me, put on the armour, and take the whip of thorn, the stone, and the water-flask and the pot of ointment, and then we will set out." When the youth mounted the horse, it set off at a rapid rate. After riding some time, the horse said--"I think I hear a noise; look round, can you see anything?" "A great many are coming after us, certainly a score at least," answered the youth. "Ah! that is the Troll," said the horse, "he is coming with all his companions." They travelled for a time until their pursuers were gaining on them. "Throw now the thorn whip over your shoulder," said the horse,--"but throw it far away from me." The youth did so, and at the same moment there sprang up a large thick wood of briars. The youth now rode on a long way, while the Troll had to go home to fetch something wherewith to hew a road through the wood. After some time the horse again said, "Look back, can you see anything now?" "Yes, a whole mult.i.tude of people" said the youth, "like a church congregation." "That is the Troll, now he has got more with him, throw out now the large stone, but throw it far from me." When the youth had done what the horse desired, there arose a large stone mountain behind them. So the Troll was obliged to go home after something with which to bore through the mountain; and while he was thus employed, the youth rode on a considerable way. But now the horse bade him again look back; he then saw a mult.i.tude like a whole army, they were so bright, that they glittered in the sun. "Well that is the Troll with all his friends,"

said the horse. "Now throw the water-bottle behind you, but take good care to spill none on me." The youth did so, but notwithstanding his caution he happened to spill a drop on the horse's loins. Immediately there arose a vast lake, and the spilling of a few drops caused the horse to stand far out in the water; nevertheless he at last swam to the sh.o.r.e. When the Trolls came to the water, they lay down to drink it all up, and they gulped and gulped it down till they burst. (Folk-lore demons experience great difficulty in crossing water.) "Now we are quit of them," said the horse.

In Laura von Gonzenbach's Sicilianische Marchen, Vol. II, p. 57, we find a similar incident. In the story of Fata Morgana, a prince, who carries off a bottle filled with her perspiration, but imprudently wakes her by kissing her, is pursued by her with two lions. He throws three pomegranates behind him: the first produces a river of blood, the second a th.o.r.n.y mountain, the third a volcano. This he does by the advice of his horse, who is really Fata Morgana's brother transformed by magic: see also Vol. I, p. 343; cp. also the 79th tale in Grimm's Kinder- und Hausmarchen (sixteenth edition in one volume) Die Wa.s.sernixe.

In Orient und Occident, Vol. II, p. 113, Dr. Reinhold Kohler, in his remarks on the West Highland Stories collected by J. F. Campbell, compares the story of Agnisikha with the second story in Campbell's collection, ent.i.tled: "The Battle of the Birds." In this a king's son wishes to marry the youngest daughter of a giant. The giant sets him three tasks to do; to clean out a stable, to thatch it with feathers, and to fetch eggs from a magpie's nest in the top of a tree more than five hundred feet high. All these tasks he accomplishes by the help of the young lady herself. In the last task she makes a ladder of her fingers for him to ascend the tree by, but in so doing she loses her little finger. The giant requires the prince to choose his wife from among three sisters similarly dressed. He recognizes her by the loss of the little finger. When bed-time came, the giant's daughter told the prince that they must fly, or the giant would kill him. They mounted on the gray filly in the stable. But before starting the daughter cut an apple into nine shares; she put two at the head of the bed, two at the foot, two at the door of the kitchen, two at the house-door, and one outside the house. The giant awoke and called "Are you asleep?" several times, and the shares answered "No." At last he went and found the bed empty and cold, and pursued the fugitive couple. At the break of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath burning her back. She told the prince to put his hand in the horse's ear, and fling what he found behind him. He found a sprig of sloe, flung it behind him, and produced a wood twenty miles long. The giant had to go back for his axe and wood-knife. In the middle of the day the prince finds in the ear of the filly a piece of gray stone. This produces twenty miles of gray rock behind them. The giant has to go back for his lever and mattock. The next thing, that the prince finds and flings behind him, is a bladder of water. This produces a fresh-water loch twenty miles broad. In it the giant is happily drowned. The rest of the story has no bearing upon the tale of Sringabhuja. Kohler compares a story in William Carleton's stories of the Irish peasantry. Here there is a sprig, a pebble and a drop of water producing a wood, a rock and a lake. He compares also a Norwegian story, Ashbjornsen, No. 46, and some Swedish stories collected by Hylten Cavallius and G. Stephens. The three tasks are very different in the different forms of the tale. The ladder of fingers is only found in the Celtic form.

It is only in the Gaelic and Irish forms that the objects thrown behind to check pursuit are found in the ear of the horse.

In the latter form of the story of the Mermaid, Thorpe's Yule-Tide Stories, p. 205, we have the pursuit with much the same incidents as in our text. See also Ralston's remarks on the story in our text at pp. 132 and 143 of his Russian Folk-Tales. Cp. also Veckenstedt's Wendische Sagen, p. 216. An Indian parallel will be found in Miss Frere's Old Deccan Days, pp. 62 and 63. A Modern Greek one in Bernhard Schmidt's Griechische Marchen, pp. 76-79.

Cp. also for the tasks the story of Bisara in Kaden's Unter den Olivenbaumen, and that of Die schone Fiorita. Herr Kaden aptly compares the story of Jason and Medea. Another excellent parallel is furnished by the story of Schneeweiss-Feuerroth in the same collection, where we have the pursuit much as in our text.

The pursuit and the tasks are found in the tale called La Montagne Noire, on p. 448 of Melusine, a periodical which appeared in the year 1878, and in Branca-flor, No. XIV in Coelho's Contos Populares Portuguezes, and in Gaal's Marchen der Magyaren, p. 60. The tasks are found in the Pentamerone of Basile, Vol. I, p. 226, and in Vol. II, p. 186; in Gaal, Marchen der Magyaren, p. 182, (the t.i.tle of the tale is Die dankbaren Thiere; some grateful ants are found at page 339;) in Grossler's Sagen aus der Grafschaft Mansfeld, pp. 60 and 61; in Waldau's Bohmische Marchen, pp. 18, 142, 262; in Kuhn's Westfalische Marchen, Vol. II. p. 249, frogs, ants, and wasps help the hero. Cp. for the pursuit Liebrecht's translation of the Pentamerone of Basile, Vol. I, pp. 74-76 and 160.