Tales of Folk and Fairies Part 27

And so the boy lay all the while that the man with the necklace hidden in his bosom was on his way back from the jungle. But when he reached the apartments of Duo and gave the necklace into the hands of the evil Ranee, the breath went out from the Prince's body, and he became as one dead.

The Rajah was in despair. His grief was now as great as his joy had been when the child was born. He had a magnificent temple built in the most beautiful of all his gardens, and in this temple the body of Dalim k.u.mar was laid. After this was done the Rajah commanded that the gates of the garden should be locked, and that no one but the gardeners should ever enter there on pain of death.

This command was carried out. The garden gates were kept locked, and no one entered but the men who went there in the daytime to prune the trees and water the flowers and keep the place in order. Not even Suo might go into the garden to mourn beside the body of her son.

But though every one believed Dalim k.u.mar to be dead, such was not really the case. All day, while Duo wore the necklace, he lay without breath or sign of life, but in the evening, when the Ranee took the necklace off, he revived and returned to life. And this happened every night, for every night the Rajah came to visit Duo, and just before he came she always took the necklace off and hid it. She feared if he saw it he might wonder and question her about it.

The wicked Ranee was now satisfied and happy. She believed she had destroyed the young Prince, and with him the Rajah's love for Suo. For the Rajah now never went to Suo's apartments. He neither saw her nor spoke of her, for she only reminded him of his grief for his son.

Now the first time that Dalim k.u.mar awoke in the temple he was very much surprised to find himself alone in a strange place, and with no attendants around him. He arose and went out into the garden, and then at once he knew where he was, though the temple was new to him. He went to one gate after another of the garden, intending to go and return to the palace, but he found them all locked. The gardeners had gone away for the night, and before going they had securely fastened the gates, according to the Rajah's orders. The young prince called and called, but no one heard or answered. Feeling hungry, he plucked some fruit and ate it, and after that he amused himself as best he could, playing about among the trees and flowers.

Toward morning he felt sleepy and returned to the temple. He lay down upon the couch, and later on, when Duo again put on the necklace, his breath left him, and he became as one dead.

As it had been that night, so it was also in the many nights that followed. In the evening the Prince revived and came out to play among the flowers, but with the coming of day he returned to the temple and lay down on the couch, and all appearance of life left him. After a time he became used to the strange life he led, and no longer wondered why he was left there alone and why no one came to seek him.

So year after year slipped by, and from a child the Prince became a youth, and in all that time he had seen no one, for the gardeners had always gone away before he returned to life.

Now there lived at this time, in a country far away, a woman who had one only child, a daughter named Surai Bai. This girl was so beautiful that she was the wonder of all who saw her. Her hair was as black as night, her eyes like stars, her teeth like pearls, and her lips as red as ripe pomegranates.

When this child was born it was foretold to her mother that she would sometime marry a Prince who was both alive and dead. This prophecy frightened the mother so much that as soon as her daughter was of a marriageable age she left her own country and journeyed away into a far land, taking the girl with her. She hoped that if she went far enough she might escape the fate that had been foretold for the child.

Journeying on from one place to another, she came at last to the city where Dalim k.u.mar's father reigned, and where the garden was, and the temple where the young prince lay.

It was toward evening when the mother and daughter reached the city, and it was necessary for them to find some shelter for the night.

Surai Bai was weary, and her mother bade her sit down and rest by the gate of one of the palace gardens while she went farther to seek a lodging. As soon as she had found a place where they could stay she would return for the girl.

So Surai Bai seated herself beside the gate, and there her mother left her. But the mother had not been gone long when some noise farther up the street frightened the girl. She looked about for a place to hide, and it occurred to her that she might go into the garden and wait there. She tried the gate and found it unfastened, for by some chance one of the gardeners had forgotten to lock it that evening when he went away.

Surai Bai pushed the gate open and stepped inside, closing it behind her. When she looked about her, she was amazed at the beauty of the garden. The fruit trees were laden with fruits of every kind. There were winding paths and flowers and fountains, and in the midst of the garden was a temple s.h.i.+ning with gold and wondrous colors.

Though daylight had faded the moon had arisen, and the garden was full of light. Surai Bai went over close to the temple, wis.h.i.+ng to examine it, but just as she reached the foot of the steps that led up to it a young man appeared above her at the door of the temple. It was Dalim k.u.mar, who had aroused again to life and was coming forth to breathe the air of the garden.

When he saw Surai Bai he stood amazed, not only at her beauty, which was so great, but because hers was the first face he had ever seen in the years he had spent in the garden. As for Surai Bai, never before had she beheld a youth so handsome, or with such a n.o.ble air, and as the two stood looking at each other they became filled with love for one another.

Presently Dalim k.u.mar came down the steps of the temple and took Surai Bai's hand.

"Who are you, beautiful one?" he asked. "Whence come you, and what is your name?"

"My name is Surai Bai," answered the girl, "and I come from another country far away. My mother left me sitting by the gate while she went to find a lodging for us, but some noise frightened me, and I ran in here to hide."

"That is a strange thing," said the Prince. "In all the years I have been living here, the gates have never been unlocked before."

"But do you live here alone?" asked the girl.

"Yes, all alone. Yours is the first face I have seen for years, and yet I am a Prince, and the son of a great Rajah."

"Then why are you here?"

"I am here because my life was bound up in a golden necklace that lay buried under the roots of a tree in the jungle. I told the secret to a Ranee who was my enemy, though I did not know it at the time. She must in some way have gained possession of the necklace, and now she is using it for my harm. All day I lie there in the temple as though dead; no sound reaches me, nothing arouses me; only at night can I arise and come forth. I, a great prince, am as one both dead and alive."

When Dalim k.u.mar p.r.o.nounced these words Surai Bai could not refrain from giving a loud cry. She was overcome with amazement and confusion.

The Prince at once wished to know what had moved her so. "Why do you cry out and change color?" he asked. "And why do you tremble and look at me so strangely?"

At first Surai Bai would not tell him, but he was so urgent in his questioning that finally she was obliged to recount to him the prophecy made at the time of her birth;--that it had been foretold of her that she was to marry a Prince who was both alive and dead.

Dalim k.u.mar listened to her attentively. "That is a strange thing,"

said he. "I do not suppose in all the world there is another prince beside myself who is both alive and dead. If this saying is true, it must be that I am the one you are to marry. If so, I am very happy, for already I love you, and if you will stay here with me we will be married by the ceremony of Grandharva, and I will be a true and loving husband to you."

To this Surai Bai willingly consented, for already she loved the prince so dearly that she felt she could not live without him. That very night she and the Prince presented each other with garlands of flowers, for that is the ceremony of Grandharva, and so they became man and wife.

After that they lived together in great happiness, and nothing could exceed their love for each other. By day, while Dalim k.u.mar lay lifeless in the temple, his bride slept also, and at evening they awoke and talked together and walked through the garden.

But after a while a son was born to the young couple, and after that Surai Bai was no longer gay and happy. Her look was sad, and often she stole away from Dalim k.u.mar to weep in secret.

The Prince was greatly troubled by this. At first he forbore to question her, but one day he followed her and finding her in tears, he said, "Tell me, why are you sad and downcast? Have you wearied of this garden, and are you lonely here; or is it that you no longer love me?"

"Dalim k.u.mar," answered the girl, "I love you as dearly as ever, and I am never lonely with you. As long as we had no child I was content to stay here in the garden and see no one. But now that we have a son I wish him to be seen by your people, and I wish them to know that he is the heir to the kingdom."

At this Dalim k.u.mar became very thoughtful. "My dear wife," said he, "you are right. Our son should be known as my heir; but every one believes I died long ago when I was a child. If you went out among them with the boy and told them he was my son, they would laugh at you, and either think you were an impostor or that you were crazy. If we could but gain possession of the necklace, then I could go out from the garden with you, and if I showed myself to my people they would be obliged to believe."

"That is what I have thought also," said Surai Bai, "and it has been in my mind to ask you to give me permission to leave the garden for a while. If you will do this I will try to gain entrance to the palace and the apartments of Duo. Then possibly I can find where she keeps the necklace at night, and I may be able to get possession of it."

Dalim k.u.mar eagerly agreed to this plan, and the very next day, while he lay unconscious in the temple, Surai Bai took the child and managed to steal out through one of the gates without being seen by any of the gardeners.

She at once sought out a shop in the city and bought for herself the dress of a hairdresser; then, leading the child by the hand she made her way to the palace. She told the attendants there that she was very skillful in dressing the hair, and if they would take her to the Ranees she was sure she could please them.

After some hesitation the attendants agreed to do this, and led the way first to the apartments of Suo. When Surai Bai entered the room and saw her husband's mother sitting there thin and pale and grief-stricken, her heart yearned over her. But Suo would not so much as look at the pretended hairdresser. "Why do you bring her here?" she asked. "I have no wish to look beautiful. My son is dead and my husband no longer loves me nor comes to me. Take her away and leave me alone with my sorrow."

The attendants motioned to Surai Bai to come away, and they led her across the palace to the apartments of Duo.

Here all was bright and joyous. The beautiful Duo lay among the cus.h.i.+ons, smiling to herself and playing with the necklace that hung about her neck. When she heard that the young woman they had brought to her was a skilled hairdresser, she sat up and beckoned Surai Bai to approach.

"Come!" said she. "Let us see how well you can dress my hair. The Rajah will be here before long, and I must be beautiful for him."

Surai Bai at once came behind Duo and began to arrange her hair. The child meanwhile kept close by her side. When Surai Bai had almost finished she managed to loosen the clasp of the necklace so that it slipped from Duo's neck and fell upon the floor.

This was as the pretended hairdresser had planned, and she had explained to her son beforehand that when the necklace fell he must pick it up and hold it tight, and yield it to no one. So now, no sooner did the necklace slip to the floor, than the child picked it up and twisted it tight around his fingers.

Duo was frightened. "Give me my necklace," cried she, and reaching over she tried to take it from the boy, but at this he began to scream so loudly that it seemed as though the whole palace must be aroused by his cries.

Duo drew back alarmed and bade the child be quiet. Then she turned to the pretended hairdresser. "Make him give me the necklace again," she demanded.

Surai Bai pretended to hesitate. "If I try to take it from him now,"

she said, "he might break it. Have patience, and let him keep it for a while; he will soon tire of it. Then I can take it from him and bring it to you."

To this Duo was obliged to agree. It was growing late and she feared at any moment now the Rajah might come in and that he might notice the necklace in the child's hands and ask questions about it.

"Very well," she said. "Let him keep it for the present, but bring it back to me the first thing in the morning. If you neglect to do this you shall be severely punished,--you and the child also."