Part 5

At eventide the servants came and bowed before the Padishah and said: “My lord! peace be with thee! They await thee in the harem!” So he entered the harem, and there he saw before him the golden-haired youth, with a beautiful half-moon shining on his forehead, and his bride, the Peri-Queen, and his own consort, the Sultana, who had been buried in the earth, and by her side a golden-haired maiden with a star sparkling on her forehead. There stood the Padishah as if turned to stone, but his consort ran up to him and kissed the edge of his garment, and the Peri-Queen began to tell him the whole of her life and how everything had happened.

The Padishah was nigh to dying in the fulness of his joy. He could scarce believe his eyes, but he pressed his consort to his breast and embraced the two beauteous children, and the Queen of the Peris likewise. He forgave the sisters of the Sultana their offences, but the old witch was mercilessly destroyed by lingering tortures. But he and his consort and her son and the Queen of the Peris, and his daughter, and his daughter’s bridegroom sat down to a great banquet and made merry. Forty days and forty nights they feasted, and the blessing of Allah was upon them.

THE HORSE-DEVIL AND THE WITCH

There was once upon a time a Padishah who had three daughters. One day the old father made him ready for a journey, and calling to him his three daughters straightly charged them to feed and water his favourite horse, even though they neglected everything else. He loved the horse so much that he would not suffer any stranger to come near it.

So the Padishah went on his way, but when the eldest daughter brought the fodder into the stable the horse would not let her come near him. Then the middling daughter brought the forage, and he treated her likewise. Last of all the youngest daughter brought the forage, and when the horse saw her he never budged an inch, but let her feed him and then return to her sisters. The two elder sisters were content that the youngest should take care of the horse, so they troubled themselves about it no more.

The Padishah came home, and the first thing he asked was whether they had provided the horse with everything. “He wouldn’t let us come near him,” said the two elder sisters; “it was our youngest sister here who took care of him.”

No sooner had the Padishah heard this than he gave his youngest daughter to the horse to wife, but his two other daughters he gave to the sons of his Chief Mufti and his Grand Vizier, and they celebrated the three marriages at a great banquet, which lasted forty days. Then the youngest daughter turned into the stable, but the two eldest dwelt in a splendid palace. In the daytime the youngest sister had only a horse for a husband and a stable for a dwelling; but in the night-time the stable became a garden of roses, the horse-husband a handsome hero, and they lived in a world of their own. Nobody knew of it but they two. They passed the day together as best they could, but eventide was the time of their impatient desires.

One day the Padishah held a tournament in the palace. Many gallant warriors entered the lists, but none strove so valiantly as the husbands of the Sultan’s elder daughters.

“Only look now!” said the two elder daughters to their sister who dwelt in the stable, “only look now! how our husbands overthrow all the other warriors with their lances; our two lords are not so much lords as lions! Where is this horse-husband of thine, prythee?”

On hearing this from his wife, the horse-husband shivered all over, turned into a man, threw himself on horseback, told his wife not to betray him on any account, and in an instant appeared within the lists. He overthrew every one with his lance, unhorsed his two brothers-in-law, and re-appeared in the stable again as if he had never left it.

The next day, when the sports began again, the two elder sisters mocked as before, but then the unknown hero appeared again, conquered and vanished. On the third day the horse-husband said to his wife: “If ever I should come to grief or thou shouldst need my help, take these three wisps of hair, burn them, and it will help thee wherever thou art.” With that he hastened to the games again and triumphed over his brothers-in-law. Every one was amazed at his skill, the two elder sisters likewise, and again they said to their younger sister: “Look how these heroes excel in prowess! They are very different to thy dirty horse-husband!”

The girl could not endure standing there with nothing to say for herself, so she told her sisters that the handsome hero was no other than her horse-husband--and no sooner had she pointed at him than he vanished from before them as if he had never been. Then only did she call to mind her lord’s command to her not to betray her secret, and away she hurried off to the stable. But ’twas all in vain, neither horse nor man came to her, and at midnight there was neither rose nor rose-garden.

“Alas!” wept the girl, “I have betrayed my lord, I have broken my word, what a crime is mine!” She never closed an eye all that night, but wept till morning. When the red dawn appeared she went to her father the Padishah, complained to him that she had lost her horse-husband, and begged that she might go to the ends of the earth to seek him. In vain her father tried to keep her back, in vain he pointed out to her that her husband was now most probably among devils, and she would never be able to find him--turn her from her resolution he could not. What could he do but let her go on her way?

With a great desire the damsel set out on her quest, she went on and on till her tender body was all aweary, and at last she sank down exhausted at the foot of a great mountain. Then she called to mind the three hairs, and she took out one and set fire to it--and lo! her lord and master was in her arms again, and they could not speak for joy.

“Did I not bid thee tell none of my secret?” cried the youth sorrowfully; “and now if my hag of a mother see thee she will instantly tear thee to pieces. This mountain is our dwelling-place. She will be here immediately, and woe to thee if she see thee!”

The poor Sultan’s daughter was terribly frightened, and wept worse than ever at the thought of losing her lord again, after all her trouble in finding him. The heart of the devil’s son was touched at her sorrow: he struck her once, changed her into an apple, and put her on the shelf. The hag flew down from the mountain with a terrible racket, and screeched out that she smelt the smell of a man, and her mouth watered for the taste of human flesh. In vain her son denied that there was any human flesh there, she would not believe him one bit.

“If thou wilt swear by the egg not to be offended, I’ll show thee what I’ve hidden,” said her son. The hag swore, and her son gave the apple a tap, and there before them stood the beautiful damsel. “Behold my wife!” said he to his mother. The old mother said never a word, what was done could not be undone. “I’ll give the bride something to do all the same,” thought she.

They lived a couple of days together in peace and quiet, but the hag was only waiting for her son to leave the house. At last one day the youth had work to do elsewhere, and scarcely had he put his foot out of doors when the hag said to the damsel: “Come, sweep and sweep not!” and with that she went out and said she should not be back till evening. The girl thought to herself again and again: “What am I to do now? What did she mean by ‘sweep and sweep not’?” Then she thought of the hairs, and she took out and burned the second hair also. Immediately her lord stood before her and asked her what was the matter, and the girl told him of his mother’s command: “Sweep and sweep not!” Then her lord explained to her that she was to sweep out the chamber, but not to sweep the ante-chamber.

The girl did as she was told, and when the hag came home in the evening she asked the girl whether she had accomplished her task. “Yes, little mother,” replied the bride, “I have swept and I have not swept.”--“Thou daughter of a dog,” cried the old witch, “not thine own wit but my son’s mouth hath told thee this thing.”

The next morning when the hag got up she gave the damsel vases, and told her to fill them with tears. The moment the hag had gone the damsel placed the three vases before her, and wept and wept, but what could her few teardrops do to fill them? Then she took out and burned the third hair.

Again her lord appeared before her, and explained to her that she must fill the three vases with water, and then put a pinch of salt in each vase. The girl did so, and when the hag came home in the evening and demanded an account of her work, the girl showed her the three vases full of tears. “Thou daughter of a dog!” chided the old woman again, “that is not thy work; but I’ll do for thee yet, and for my son too.”

The next day she devised some other task for her to do; but her son guessed that his mother would vex the wench, so he hastened home to his bride. There the poor thing was worrying herself about it all alone, for the third hair was now burnt, and she did not know how to set about doing the task laid upon her. “Well, there is now nothing for it but to run away,” said her lord, “for she won’t rest now till she hath done thee a mischief.” And with that he took his wife, and out into the wide world they went.

In the evening the hag came home, and saw neither her son nor his bride. “They have flown, the dogs!” cried the hag, with a threatening voice, and she called to her sister, who was also a witch, to make ready and go in pursuit of her son and his bride. So the witch jumped into a pitcher, snatched up a serpent for a whip, and went after them.

The demon-lover saw his aunt coming, and in an instant changed the girl into a bathing-house, and himself into a bath-man sitting down at the gate. The witch leaped from the pitcher, went to the bath-keeper, and asked him if he had not seen a young boy and girl pass by that way.

“I have only just warmed up my bath,” said the youth, “there’s nobody inside it; if thou dost not believe me, thou canst go and look for thyself.” The witch thought: “‘Tis impossible to get a sensible word out of a fellow of this sort,” so she jumped into her pitcher, flew back, and told her sister that she couldn’t find them. The other hag asked her whether she had exchanged words with any one on the road. “Yes,” replied the younger sister, “there was a bath-house by the roadside, and I asked the owner of it about them; but he was either a fool or deaf, so I took no notice of him.”

“‘Tis thou who wert the fool,” snarled her elder sister. “Didst thou not recognize in him my son, and in the bath-house my daughter-in-law?” Then she called her second sister, and sent her after the fugitives.

The devil’s son saw his second aunt flying along in her pitcher. Then he gave his wife a tap and turned her into a spring, but he himself sat down beside it, and began to draw water out of it with a pitcher. The witch went up to him, and asked him whether he had seen a girl and a boy pass by that way.

“There’s drinkable water in this spring,” replied he, with a vacant stare, “I am always drawing it.” The witch thought she had to do with a fool, turned back, and told her sister that she had not met with them. Her sister asked her if she had not come across any one by the way. “Yes, indeed,” replied she, “a half-witted fellow was drawing water from a spring, but I couldn’t get a single sensible word out of him.”

“That half-witted fellow was my son, the spring was his wife, and a pretty wiseacre thou art,” screeched her sister. “I shall have to go myself, I see,” and with that she jumped into her pitcher, snatched up a serpent to serve her as a whip, and off she went.

Meanwhile the youth looked back again, and saw his mother coming after them. He gave the girl a tap and changed her into a tree, but he himself turned into a serpent, and coiled himself round the tree. The witch recognized them, and drew near to the tree to break it to pieces; but when she saw the serpent coiled round it, she was afraid to kill her own son along with it, so she said to her son: “Son, son! show me, at least, the girl’s little finger, and then I’ll leave you both in peace.” The son saw that he could not free himself from her any other way, and that she must have at least a little morsel of the damsel to nibble at. So he showed her one of the girl’s little fingers, and the old hag wrenched it off, and returned to her domains with it. Then the youth gave the girl a tap and himself another tap, put on human shape again, and away they went to the girl’s father, the Padishah. The youth, since his talisman had been destroyed, remained a mortal man, but the diabolical part of him stayed at home with his witch-mother and her kindred. The Padishah rejoiced greatly in his children, gave them a wedding-banquet with a wave of his finger, and they inherited the realm after his death.

THE CINDER-YOUTH

Once upon a time that was no time, in the days when the servants of Allah were many and the misery of man was great, there lived a poor woman who had three sons and one daughter. The youngest son was half-witted, and used to roll about all day in the warm ashes.

One day the two elder brothers went out to plough, and said to their mother: “Boil us something, and send our sister out with it into the field.”--Now the three-faced devil had pitched his tent close to this field, and in order that the girl might not come near them he determined to persuade her to go all round about instead of straight to them.

The mother cooked the dinner and the girl went into the field with it, but the devil contrived to make her lose her road, so that she wandered further and further away from the place where she wanted to go. At last, when her poor head was quite confused, the devil’s wife appeared before her and asked the terrified girl what she meant by trespassing there. Then she talked her over and persuaded her to come home with her, that she might hide her from the vengeance of the devil, her husband.

But the three-faced devil had got home before them, and when they arrived the old woman told the girl to make haste and get something ready to eat while her maid-servant stirred up the fire. But scarcely had she begun to get the dish ready than the devil crept stealthily up behind her, opened his mouth wide, and swallowed the girl whole, clothes and all.

Meanwhile her brothers were waiting in the field for their dinner, but neither the damsel nor the victuals appeared. Afternoon came and went and evening too, and then the lads went home, and when they heard from their mother that their sister had gone to seek them early in the morning they suspected what had happened--their little sister must have fallen into the hands of the devil. The two elder brothers did not think twice about it, but the elder of them set off at once to seek his sister.

He went on and on, puffing at his chibook, sniffing the perfume of flowers and drinking coffee, till he came to an oven by the wayside. By the oven sat an old man, who asked the youth on what errand he was bent. The youth told him of his sister’s case, and said he was going in search of the three-faced devil, and would not be content till he had killed him.--“Thou wilt never be able to slay the devil,” said the man, “till thou hast eaten of bread that has been baked in this oven.”--The youth thought this no very difficult matter, took the loaves out of the oven, but scarcely had he bitten a piece out of one of them than the oven, the man, and the loaves all disappeared before his eyes, and the bit he had taken swelled within him so that he nearly burst.

The youth hadn’t gone two steps further on when he saw on the highway a large cauldron, and the cauldron was full of wine. A man was sitting in front of the cauldron, and he asked him the way, and told him the tale of the devil. “Thou wilt never be able to cope with the devil,” said the man, “if thou dost not drink of this wine.” The youth drank, but: “Woe betide my stomach, woe betide my bowels!” for so plagued was he that he could not have stood upright if he had not seen two bridges before him. One of these bridges was of wood and the other was of iron, and beyond the two bridges were two apple-trees, and one bore unripe bitter apples and the other sweet ripe ones.

The three-faced devil was waiting on the road to see which bridge he would choose, the wooden or the iron one, and which apples he would eat, the sour or the sweet ones. The youth went along the iron bridge, lest the wooden one might break down, and plucked the sweet apples, because the green ones were bitter. That was just what the devil wanted him to do, and he at once sent his mother to meet the youth and entice him into his house as he had done his sister, and it was not long before he also found his way into the devil’s belly.

And next in order, the middling brother, not wishing to be behind-hand, also went in search of his kinsmen. He also could not eat of the bread his inside also was plagued by the wine, he went across the iron bridge and ate of the sweet apples, and so he also found his way into the devil’s belly. Only the youngest brother who lay among the ashes remained. His mother besought him not to forsake her in her old age. If the others had gone he at least could remain and comfort her, she said. But the youth would not listen. “I will not rest,” said Cinderer, “till I have found the three lost ones, my two brothers and my sister, and slain the devil.” Then he rose from his chimney corner, and no sooner had he shaken the ashes from off him than such a tempest arose that all the labourers at work in the fields left their ploughs where they stood, and ran off as far as their eyes could see. Then the youngest son gathered together the ploughshares and bade a blacksmith make a lance of them, but a lance of such a kind as would fly into the air and come back again to the hand that hurled it without breaking its iron point. The smith made the lance, and the youth hurled it. Up into the air flew the lance, but when it came down again on to the tip of his little finger it broke to pieces. Then the youth shook himself still more violently in the ashes, and again the labourers in the field fled away before the terrible tempest which immediately arose, and the youth gathered together a still greater multitude of ploughshares and took them to the smith. The smith made a second lance, and that also flew up into the air and broke to pieces when it came down again. Then the youth shook himself in the ashes a third time, and such a hurricane arose that there was scarce a ploughshare in the whole country-side that was not carried away. It was only with great difficulty that the smith could make the third lance, but when that came down on the youth’s finger it did not break in pieces like the others. “This will do pretty well,” said the youth, and catching up the lance he went forth into the wide world.

He went on and on and on till he also came to the oven and the cauldron. The men who guarded the oven and the cauldron stopped him and asked him his business, and on finding out that he was going to kill the devil, they told the youth that he must first eat the bread of the oven and then drink the wine in the cauldron if he could. The son of the cinders wished for nothing better. He ate the loaves that were baked in the oven, drank all the wine, and further on he saw the wooden bridge and the iron bridge, and beyond the bridges the apple-trees.

The devil had observed the youth from afar, and his courage began to ooze out of him when he saw the deeds of the son of the ashes. “Any fool can go across the iron bridge,” thought the youth, “I’ll go across the wooden one,” and as it was no very great feat to eat the sweet apples he ate the sour ones.--“There will be no joking with this one,” said the devil, “I see I must get ready my lance and measure my strength with him.”

The son of the ashes saw the devil from afar, and full of the knowledge of his own valour went straight up to him.

“If thou doest not homage to me, I’ll swallow thee straight off,” cried the devil.

“And if thou doest not homage to me, I’ll knock thee to pieces with my lance,” replied the youth.

“Oh ho! if we’re so brave as all that,” cried the three-faced monster, “let us out with our lances without losing any more time.”

So the devil out with his lance, whirled it round his head, and aimed it with all his might at the youth, who gave but one little twist with his finger, and crick-crack! the devil’s lance broke all to bits. “Now it’s my turn,” cried the son of the cinders; and he hurled his lance at the devil with such force that the devil’s first soul flew out of his nose.--“At it again once more, if thou art a man,” yelled the devil, with a great effort. “Not I,” cried the youth, “for my mother only bore me once,” whereupon the devil breathed forth his last soul also. Then the youth went on to seek the devil’s wife. Her also he chased down the road after her husband, and when he had cut them both in two, lo and behold! all three of his kinsfolk stood before him, so he turned back home and took them with him. Now his brothers and sister had grown very thirsty in the devil’s belly, and when they saw a large well by the wayside, they asked their brother Cinder-son to draw them a little water. Then the youths took off their girdles, tied them together, and let down the biggest brother, but he had scarcely descended more than half-way down when he began to shriek unmercifully: “Oh, oh, draw me up, I have had enough,” so that they had to pull him up and let the second brother try. And with him it fared the same way. “Now ’tis my turn,” cried Cinder-son, “but mind you do not pull me

up, however loudly I holloa.” So they let down the youngest brother, and he too began to holloa and bawl, but they paid no heed to it, and let him down till he stood on the dry bottom of the well. A door stood before him, he opened it, and there were three lovely damsels sitting in a room together, and each of them shone like the moon when she is only fourteen days old. The three damsels were amazed at the sight of the youth. How durst he come into the devil’s cavern? they asked--and they begged and besought him to escape as he valued dear life. But the youth would not budge at any price, till he had got the better of this devil also. The end of the matter was that he slew the devil and released the three damsels, who were Sultan’s daughters, and had been stolen from their fathers and kept here for the last seven years. The two elder princesses he intended for his two brothers, but the youngest, who was also the loveliest, he chose for himself, and filling the pitcher with water he brought the damsels to the bottom of the well, right below the mouth of it.

First of all he let them draw up the eldest princess for his eldest brother, then he made them pull up the middling princess for his middling brother, and then it came to the youngest damsel’s turn. But she desired that the youth should be drawn up at all hazards and herself afterwards. “Thy brethren,” she explained, “will be wroth with thee for keeping the loveliest damsel for thyself, and will not draw thee out of the well for sheer jealousy.”