Tales of Folk and Fairies Part 23

In a certain far-off part of the kingdom the Rajah saw a fine garden, and so beautiful was it that he stopped to admire it. He was surprised to see growing in the midst of it a small bingal tree that bore a number of fine bingals, but not a single leaf.

"This is a very curious thing, and I do not understand it," said Chundun Rajah to his Wuzeer. "Why does this tree bear such fine and perfect fruit, and yet it has not a single leaf?"

"I could tell you the meaning," said the Wuzeer, "but I fear that if I did you would not believe me and would have me punished for telling a lie."

"That could never be," answered the Rajah; "I know you to be a very truthful man and wise above all others. Whatever you tell me I shall believe."

"Then this is the meaning of it," said the Wuzeer. "The gardener who has charge of this garden has one daughter; her name is Guzra Bai, and she is very beautiful. If you will count the bingals you will find there are twenty-and-one. Whosoever marries the gardener's daughter will have twenty and one children,--twenty boys and one girl."

Chundun Rajah was very much surprised at what his Wuzeer said. "I should like to see this Guzra Bai," said he.

"You can very easily see her," answered the Wuzeer. "Early every morning she comes into the garden to play among the flowers. If you come here early and hide you can see her without frightening her, as you would do if you went to her home."

The Rajah was pleased with this suggestion, and early the next morning he came to the garden and hid himself behind a flowering bush. It was not long before he saw the girl playing about among the flowers, and she was so very beautiful the Rajah at once fell in love with her. He determined to make her his Ranee, but he did not speak to her or show himself to her then for fear of frightening her. He determined to go to the gardener's house that evening and tell him he wished his daughter for a wife.

As he had determined, so he did. That very evening, accompanied only by his Wuzeer, he went to the gardener's house and knocked upon the door.

"Who is there?" asked the gardener from within.

"It is I, the Rajah," answered Chundun. "Open the door, for I wish to speak with you."

The gardener laughed. "That is a likely story," said he. "Why should the Rajah come to my poor hut? No, no; you are some one who wishes to play a trick on me, but you shall not succeed. I will not let you in."

"But it is indeed Chundun Rajah," called the Wuzeer. "Open the door that he may speak with you."

When the gardener heard the Wuzeer's voice he came and opened the door a crack, but still he only half believed what was told him. What was his amazement to see that it was indeed the Rajah who stood there in all his magnificence with his Wuzeer beside him. The poor man was terrified, fearing Chundun would be angry, but the Rajah spoke to him graciously.

"Do not be afraid," said he. "Call thy daughter that I may speak with her, for it is she whom I wish to see."

The girl was hiding (for she was afraid) and would not come until her father took her hand and drew her forward.

When the Rajah saw her now, this second time, she seemed to him even more beautiful than at first. He was filled with joy and wonder.

"Now I will tell you why I have come here," he said. "I wish to take Guzra Bai for my wife."

At first the gardener would not believe him, but when he found the Rajah did indeed mean what he said he turned to his daughter. "If the girl is willing you shall have her," said he, "but I will not force her to marry even a Rajah."

The girl was still afraid, yet she could not but love the Rajah, so handsome was he, and so kind and gracious was his manner. She gave her consent, and the gardener was overjoyed at the honor that had come to him and his daughter.

Chundun and the beautiful Guzra Bai were married soon after in the gardener's house, and then the Rajah and his new Ranee rode away together.

Now Chundun Rajah's mother, the old Ranee, was of a very proud and jealous nature. When she found her son had married a common girl, the daughter of a gardener, and that Chundun thought of nothing but his bride and her beauty, she was very angry. She determined to rid herself of Guzra Bai in some way or other. But Chundun watched over his young Ranee so carefully that for a long time the old Queen could find no chance to harm her.

But after a while the Rajah found it was again necessary for him to go on a long journey. Just before he set out he gave Guzra Bai a little golden bell. "If any danger should threaten or harm befall you, ring this bell," said he. "Wherever I am I shall hear it and be with you at once, even though I return from the farthest part of my kingdom."

No sooner had he gone than Guzra Bai began to wonder whether indeed it were possible that he could hear the bell at any distance and return to her. She wondered and wondered until at last her curiosity grew so great that she could not forbear from ringing it.

No sooner had it sounded than the Rajah stood before her. "What has happened?" he asked. "Why did you call me?"

"Nothing has happened," answered Guzra Bai, "but it did not seem to me possible that you could really hear the bell so far away, and I could not forbear from trying it."

"Very well," said the Rajah. "Now you know that it is true, so do not call me again unless you have need of me."

Again he went away, and Guzra Bai sat and thought and thought about the golden bell. At last she rang it again. At once the Rajah stood before her.

"Oh, my dear husband, please to forgive me," cried Guzra Bai. "It seemed so wonderful I thought I must have dreamed that the bell could bring you back."

"Guzra Bai, do not be so foolish," said her husband. "I will forgive you this time, but do not call me again unless you have need of me."

And he went away.

Again and for the third time Guzra Bai rang the bell, and the Rajah appeared.

"Why do you call me again?" he asked. "Is it again for nothing, or has something happened to you?"

"Nothing has happened," answered Guzra Bai, "only somehow I felt so frightened that I wanted you near me."

"Guzra Bai, I am away on affairs of state," said the Rajah. "If you call me in this way when you have no need of me, I shall soon refuse to answer the bell. Remember this and do not call me again without reason."

And for the third time the Rajah went away and left her.

Soon after this the young Ranee had twenty and one beautiful children, twenty sons and one daughter.

When the old Queen heard of this she was more jealous than ever. "When the Rajah returns and sees all these children," she thought to herself, "he will be so delighted that he will love Guzra Bai more dearly than ever, and nothing I can do will ever separate them." She then began to plan within herself as to how she could get rid of the children before the Rajah's return.

She sent for the nurse who had charge of the babies, and who was as wicked as herself. "If you can rid me of these children, I will give you a lac of gold pieces," she said. "Only it must be done in such a way that the Rajah will lay all the blame on Guzra Bai."

"That can be done," answered the nurse. "I will throw the children out on the ash heaps, where they will soon perish, and I will put stones in their places. Then when the Rajah returns we will tell him Guzra Bai is a wicked sorceress, who has changed her children into stones."

The old Ranee was pleased with this plan and said that she herself would go with the nurse and see that it was carried out.

Guzra Bai looked from her window and saw the old Queen coming with the nurse, and at once she was afraid. She was sure they intended some harm to her or the children. She seized the golden bell and rang and rang it, but Chundun did not come. She had called him back so often for no reason at all that this time he did not believe she really needed him.

The nurse and the old Ranee carried away the children, as they had planned, and threw them on the ash heaps and brought twenty-one large stones that they put in their places.

When Chundun Rajah returned from his journey the old Ranee met him, weeping and tearing her hair. "Alas! alas!" she cried. "Why did you marry a sorceress and bring such terrible misfortune upon us all!"

"What misfortune?" asked the Rajah. "What do you mean?"

His mother then told him that while he was away Guzra Bai had had twenty-one beautiful children, but she had turned them all into stones.

Chundun Rajah was thunderstruck. He called the wicked nurse and questioned her. She repeated what the old Ranee had already told him and also showed him the stones.

Then the Rajah believed them. He still loved Guzra Bai too much to put her to death, but he had her imprisoned in a high tower, and would not see her nor speak with her.

But meanwhile the little children who had been thrown out on the ash heap were being well taken care of. A large rat, of the kind called Bandicote, had heard them crying and had taken pity on them. She drew them down into her hole, which was close by and where they would be safe. She then called twenty of her friends together. She told them who the children were and where she had found them, and the twenty agreed to help her take care of the little ones. Each rat was to have the care of one of the little boys and to bring him suitable food, and the old Bandicote who had found them would care for the little girl.

This was done, and so well were the children fed that they grew rapidly. Before long they were large enough to leave the rat hole and go out to play among the ash heaps, but at night they always returned to the hole. The old Bandicote warned them that if they saw anyone coming they must at once hide in the hole, and under no circ.u.mstances must any one see them.

The little boys were always careful to do this, but the little girl was very curious. Now it so happened that one day the wicked nurse came past the ash heaps. The little boys saw her coming and ran back into the hole to hide. But the little girl lingered until the nurse was quite close to her before she ran away.