Part 8

“What good will the talisman be to me if I cannot get near it?” said the girl. With that she drove the Demon from the room, and when the time of his slumber arrived, she hastened with the news to her lord. Then the King’s son made great haste, leaped on his horse, hastened to the palace of his youngest sister, and told the matter to the Anka.

Early next morning the Anka arose, called five birds, and said to them: “Lead the King’s son to the spring on the mountain beyond, and wait there till the sea-horses come up. Forty steeds will appear by the running water, and when they begin to drink, seize one of them, bridle and saddle it, and put the King’s son on its back.”

So the birds took the King’s son, carried him up to the mountain close by the spring, and as soon as the horses came up, they did to one of them what the Anka had said. The King’s son sat on the horse’s back forthwith, and the first thing the good steed said was: “What dost thou command, my sweet master?”

“There is an island on the surface of the seventh ocean,” cried the King’s son, “there should I like to be!” And the King’s son had flown away before you could shut your eyes; and before you could open them again, there he was on the shore of that island.

He dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, stuck it in his pocket, and went off to seek the ox. As he was walking up and down the shore a Jew met him, and asked him what had brought him there.

“I have suffered shipwreck,” replied the youth. “My ship and everything I possess have perished, and only with difficulty did I swim ashore.”

“As for me,” said the Jew, “I am in the service of the Wind-Demon. Thou must know that there is an ox on this island, and I must watch it night and day. Wouldst thou like to enter the service? Thou wilt have nothing else to do all day but watch this beast.”

The King’s son took advantage of the opportunity, and could scarce await the moment when he was to see the ox. At watering-time the Jew brought it along, and no sooner did he find himself alone with the beast than he cut open its belly, took out the golden cage, and hastened with it to the sea-shore. Then he drew the bridle from his pocket, and when he had struck the sea with it, the steed immediately appeared and cried: “What dost thou command, sweet master?”--“I desire to be taken to the palace of the Wind-Demon,” cried the youth.

Shut your eyes, open your eyes--and there they were before the palace. Then he took his wife, made her sit down beside him, and when the steed said: “What dost thou command, sweet master?” he bade it fly straight to the emerald Anka.

Away with them flew the steed. It flew right up to the very clouds, and as they were approaching the Anka’s palace the Demon awoke from his sleep. He saw that his wife had again disappeared, and immediately set off in pursuit. Already the Sultana felt the breath of the Demon, and he had all but overtaken them when the steed hastily bade them twist the neck of the white dove in the cage. They had barely time to do so, when the Wind died away and the Demon was destroyed.

With great joy they arrived at the Anka’s palace, let the horse go his way, and rested themselves awhile. On the next day they went to their second brother, and on the third day to their third brother, and it was only then that the King’s son discovered that his lion brother-in-law was the King of the Lions, and his tiger brother-in-law the King of the Tigers. At last they reached their home which was the domain of the damsel’s. Here they made a great banquet, and rejoiced their hearts for forty days and forty nights, after which they arose and went to the prince’s own empire. There he showed them the tongue of the dragon and its nose, and as he had thus fulfilled the wishes of his father, they chose him to be their Padishah; and their lives were full of joy till the day of their death, and their end was a happy one.

THE CROW-PERI

Once upon a time that was no time there was a man who had one son. This man used to go out into the forest all day, and catch birds for sale to the first comer. At last, however, the father died and the son was left all alone. Now he did not know what had been his fathers profession, but while he was searching all about the floor he came upon the fowling-snare. So he took it, went out into the forest, and set the snare on a tree. At that moment a crow flew down upon the tree, but as the snare was cunningly laid the poor bird was caught. The youth climbed up after it, but when he had got hold of the bird, the crow began begging him to let her go, promising to give him in exchange something more beautiful and more precious than herself. The crow begged and prayed till at last he let her go free, and again he set the snare in the tree and sat down at the foot of it to wait. Presently another bird came flying up, and flew right into the snare. The youth climbed up the tree again to bring it down, but when he saw it he was full of amazement, for such a beautiful thing he had never seen in the forest before.

While he was still gazing at it and chuckling, the crow again appeared to him and said: “Take that bird to the Padishah, and he will buy it from thee.” So the youth took away the bird, put it in a cage, and carried it to the palace. When the Padishah saw the beautiful little creature he was filled with joy, and gave the youth so much money for it that he did not know what to do with it all. But the bird they placed in a golden cage, and the Padishah had his joy of it day and night.

Now the Padishah had a favourite who was grievously jealous of the good fortune of the youth who had brought the bird, and kept cudgelling his brains how he could get him beneath his feet. At last he hit upon a plan, and going in to the Padishah one day he said: “How happy that bird would be if only he had an ivory palace to dwell in!”

“Yes,” replied the Padishah, “but whence could I get enough ivory to make him a palace?”

“He who brought the bird hither,” said the favourite, “will certainly be able to find the ivory.”

So the Padishah sent for the little fowler, and bade him make an ivory palace for the bird there and then. “I know thou canst get the ivory,” said the Padishah.

“Alas, my lord Padishah!” lamented the youth, “whence am I to get all this ivory from?”

“That is thy business,” replied the Padishah. “Thou mayest search for it for forty days, but if it is not here by that time thy head shall be where now thy feet are.”

The youth was sore troubled, and while he was still pondering in his mind which road he should take, the crow came flying up to him, and asked him what he was grieving about so much. Then the youth told her what a great trouble that one little bird had brought down upon his head.

“Why this is nothing at all to fret about,” said the crow; “but go to the Padishah, and ask him for forty wagon-loads of wine!” So the youth returned to the palace, got all that quantity of wine, and as he was coming back with the cars, the crow flew up and said: “Hard by is a forest, on the border of which are forty large trenches, and as many elephants as there are in the wide world come to drink out of these trenches. Go now and fill them with wine instead of water. The elephants will thus get drunk and tumble down, and thou wilt be able to pull out their teeth and take them to the Padishah.”

The youth did as the bird said, crammed his cars full of elephants’ tusks instead of wine, and returned with them to the palace. The Padishah rejoiced greatly at the sight of all the ivory, had the palace built, rewarded the little fowler with rich gifts, and sent him home.

So there was the sparkling bird in his ivory palace, and right merrily did he hop about from perch to perch, but he could never be got to sing. “Ah!” said the evil counsellor, “if only his master were here he would sing of his own accord.”

“Who knows who his master is, or where he is to be found?” asked the Padishah sadly.

“He who fetched the elephants’ tusks could fetch the bird’s master also,” replied the evil counsellor.

So the Padishah sent for the little fowler once more, and commanded him to bring the bird’s master before him.

“How can I tell who his master is, when I caught him by chance in the forest?” asked the fowler.

“That is thy look-out,” said the Padishah; “but if thou find him not I will slay thee. I give thee forty days for thy quest, and let that suffice thee.”

So the youth went home, and sobbed aloud in his despair, when lo! the crow came flying up and asked him what he was crying for.

“Why should I not cry?” said the poor youth, and with that he began to tell the crow of his new trouble.--“Nay, but ’tis a shame to weep for such a trifle,” said the crow. “Go quickly now to the King and ask him for a large ship, but it must be large enough to hold forty maidservants, a beautiful garden also, and a bath-house.” So the youth returned to the King and told him what he wanted for his journey.

The ship was prepared as he had desired it, the youth embarked, and was just thinking whether he should go to the left or the right, when the crow came flying up, and said to him: “Steer thy ship always to the right, and go straight on until thou perceive a huge mountain. At the foot of this mountain dwell forty Peris, and when they perceive thy ship they will feel a strong desire to look at everything on board of it. But thou must allow only their Queen to come on board, for she is the owner of the bird, and while thou art showing her the ship, set sail and never stop till thou reach home.”

So the youth went on board the ship, steered steadily to the right, and never stopped once till he came to the mountain. There the forty Peris were walking on the sea-shore, and when they saw the ship they all came rushing up that they might examine the beautiful thing. The Queen of the Peris asked the little fowler whether he would not show her the ship, especially the inside of it, and he took her off in a little skiff and brought her to the vessel.

The Peri was monstrously delighted with the beautiful ship, walked in the garden with the damsels on board the ship, and when she saw the bath-room she said to the waiting-maids: “If I have come so far, I may as well have a bath into the bargain.” With that she stepped into the bath-room, and while she was bathing the ship went off.

They had gone a good distance across the sea before the Peri had finished her bathing. The Peri made haste, for it was now growing late, but when she stepped upon the deck she saw nothing but the sea around her. At this she fell a-weeping bitterly. What would become of her? she said; whither was she going? into whose hands was she about to fall? But the youth comforted her with the assurance that she was going to a King’s palace, and would be among good people.

Not very long afterwards they arrived in the city, and sent word to the King that the ship had come back. Then he brought the Peri to the palace, and as she passed by the ivory palace of the bird, it began to sing so beautifully that all who heard it were beside themselves for joy. The Peri was a little comforted when she heard it, but the King was filled with rapture, and he loved the beautiful Peri so fondly that he could not be a single moment without her. The wedding-banquet quickly followed, and with the beauteous Peri on his right hand, and the sparkling bird on his left, there was not a happier man in the world than that Padishah. But the poison of envy devoured the soul of the evil counsellor.

One day, however, the Sultana suddenly fell ill, and took to her bed. Every remedy was tried in vain, but the sages said that nothing could cure her but the drug which she had left behind her in her own fairy palace. Then, by the advice of the evil counsellor, the young fowler was again sent for to the palace, and commanded to go and seek for the drug.

So the good youth embarked on his ship again, and was just about to sail when the crow came to him and asked him whither he was going. The youth told her that the Sultana was ill, and he had been sent to fetch the drug from the fairy palace. “Well then, go!” said the crow, “and thou wilt find the palace behind a mountain. Two lions stand in the gates, but take this feather and touch their mouths with it, and they will not lift so much as a claw against thee.”

The youth took the feather, arrived in front of the mountain, disembarked, and quickly beheld the palace. He went straight up to the gates, and there stood the two lions. He took out his feather, and no sooner had he touched their mouths than they lay down one on each side and let him go into the palace. The Peris about the palace also saw the youth, and immediately guessed that their Queen was ill. So they gave him the drug, and immediately he took ship again, and returned to the palace of the Padishah. But the moment he entered the Peri’s chamber with the drug in his hand, the crow alighted on his shoulder, and thus they went together to the sick Sultana’s bed.

The Sultana was already in the throes of death, but no sooner had she tasted of the healing drug than she seemed to return to life again at a single bound. She opened her eyes, gazed upon the little fowler, and perceiving the crow upon his shoulder thus addressed her: “Oh, thou sooty slave! art thou not sorry for all that this good youth hath suffered for my sake?” Then the Sultana told her lord that this same crow was her serving-maid, whom, for negligence in her service, she had changed into a crow. “Nevertheless,” she added, “I now forgive her, for I see that her intentions towards me were good.”

At these words the crow trembled all over, and immediately a damsel so lovely stood before the young fowler that there was really very little difference between her and the Queen of the Peris. At the petition of the Sultana, the Sultan married the youth to the Crow-Peri, the evil-minded counsellor was banished, and the fowler became Vizier in his stead. And their happiness lasted till death.

THE FORTY PRINCES AND THE SEVEN-HEADED DRAGON

There was once upon a time a Padishah, and this Padishah had forty sons. All day long they disported themselves in the forest, snaring birds and hunting beasts, but when the youngest of them was fourteen years old their father wished to marry them. So he sent for them all and told them his desire. “We will marry,” said the forty brothers, “but only when we find forty sisters who are the daughters of the same father and the same mother.” Then the Padishah searched the whole realm through to find forty such sisters, but though he found families of thirty-nine sisters, families of forty sisters he could never find.

“Let the fortieth of you take another wife,” said the Padishah to his sons. But the forty brothers would not agree thereto, and they begged their father to allow them to go and search if haply they might find what they wanted in another empire. What could the Padishah do? He could not refuse them their request, so he gave them his permission. But before they departed he summoned them into his presence, and this is what their father the Padishah said to them: “I have three things to say to you, which bear ye well in mind. When ye come in your journey to a large spring, take heed not to pass the night near it. Beyond the spring is a caravanserai; there also ye must not abide. Beyond the caravanserai is a vast desert; and there also ye must not take a moment’s rest.” The sons promised their father that they would keep his words, and with baggage light of weight but exceedingly precious, they took horse and set out on their journey.

They went on and on, they smoked their chibooks and drank forty cups of coffee, and when evening descended the large spring was right before them. “Verily,” began the elder brethren, “we will not go another step further. We are weary, and the night is upon us, and what need forty men fear?” And with that they dismounted from their horses, ate their suppers, and laid them down to rest. Only the youngest brother, who was fourteen years of age, remained awake.

It might have been near midnight when the youth heard a strange noise. He caught up his arms, and turning in the direction of the sound saw before him a seven-headed dragon. They rushed towards each other, and thrice the dragon fell upon the prince, but could do him no harm. “Well, now it is my turn,” cried the youth; “wilt thou be converted to the true faith?” and with these words he struck the monster such a blow that six of his seven heads came flying down.

“Strike me once more,” groaned the dragon.

“Not I,” replied the youth, “I myself only came into the world once.” Immediately the dragon fell to pieces, but his one remaining head began to roll and roll and roll till it stood on the brink of the well. “Whoever can take my soul out of this well,” it said, “shall have my treasure also,” and with these words the head bounded into the well.

The youth took a rope, fastened one end of it to a rock, and seizing the other end himself, lowered himself into the well. At the bottom of the well he found an iron door. He opened it, passed through, and there right before him stood a palace compared with which his father’s palace was a hovel. Into this palace he went, and in it were forty rooms, and in each room was a damsel sitting by her embroidery frame with enormous treasures behind her. “Art thou a man or a spirit?” cried the terrified damsels.--“A man am I, and the son of a man,” replied the prince. “I have just slain a seven-headed dragon, and have followed its rolling head hither.”

Oh, how the forty damsels rejoiced at hearing these words. They embraced the youth, and begged and prayed him not to leave them there. They were the children of one father and one mother they said. The dragon had killed their parents and carried them off, and they had nobody to look to in the whole wide world.

“We also are forty,” said the youth, “and we are seeking forty damsels.” Then he told them that he would first of all ascend to his brethren, and then he would come for them again. So he ascended out of the well, went to the spring, lay down beside it and fell asleep.

Early in the morning the forty brothers arose and laughed at their father for trying to frighten them with the well. Again they set out on their way, and went on and on till evening overtook them, when they perceived a caravanserai before them. “Not a step further will we go,” said the elder brothers. The youngest brother indeed insisted that it would be well to remember their father’s words, for his speech could surely not have been in vain. But they laughed at their youngest brother, ate and drank, said their prayers, and lay down to sleep. Only the youngest brother remained wide awake.

About midnight he again heard a noise. The youth snatched up his arms, and again he saw before him a seven-headed dragon, but much larger than the former one. The dragon rushed at him first of all, but could not overcome him, then the youth dealt him one blow and off went six of the dragon’s heads. Then the dragon wished him to take one more blow but he would not; the head rolled into a well, the youth went after it, and came upon a palace larger than the former one, and with ever so much more treasures and precious things in it. He marked the well so that he should know it again, returned to his brothers, and wearied out with his great combat slept so soundly that his brothers had to wake him up with blows next morning.

Again they arose, took horse, went up hill and down dale, and just as the sun was setting, behold! a vast desert stood before them. They fell to eating straightway, drank their fill also, and were just going to lie down to sleep when all at once such a roaring, such a bellowing arose that the very mountains fell down from their places.

The princes were horribly afraid, especially when they saw coming against them a gigantic seven-headed dragon. He vomited forth venomous fire in his wrath, and roared furiously: “Who killed my two brothers? Hither with him! I’ll try conclusions with him also!”

The youngest brother saw that his brethren were more dead than alive from fear, so he gave them the keys of the two wells, in one of which was the vast heap of treasure, and in the other the forty damsels. Let them take everything home, he said; as for himself he must first slay the dragon and then he would follow after them. The thirty-nine brothers lost no time in mounting their horses and galloping off. They drew the treasure out of one well and the forty damsels out of the other, and so returned home to their father. But now we will see what happened to the youngest brother.

He fought the dragon and the dragon fought him, but neither could get the better of the other. The dragon perceived that it was vain to try and vanquish the youth, so he said to him: “If thou wilt go to the Empire of Chin-i-Machin[12] and fetch me thence the Padishah’s daughter, I will not worry the life out of thee.” To this the prince readily agreed, for he could not have sustained the conflict much longer.

Then Champalak, for that was the dragon’s name, gave the prince a bridle and said to him: “A good steed comes hither to feed every day, seize him, put this bridle in his mouth, and bid him take thee to the Empire of Chin-i-Machin!” So the youth took the bridle and waited for the good charger. Presently a golden-maned charger came flying through the air, and the moment the prince had put the bridle in its mouth, the charger said: “What dost thou command, little Sultan?” and before you could wink your eyes, the Empire of Chin-i-Machin stood before him. Then he dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, and went into the town. There he entered into an old woman’s hut and asked her whether she received guests. “Willingly,” answered the old woman. Then she made ready a place for him, and while he was sipping his coffee he asked her all about the talk of the town. “Well,” said the old woman, “a seven-headed dragon is very much in love with our Sultan’s daughter. A war has been raging between them on that account these many years, and the monster presses us so hardly that not even a bird can fly into our realm.”

“Then where is the Sultan’s daughter?” asked the youth.--“In a little palace in the Padishah’s garden,” replied the old woman, “and the poor thing dare not put her foot outside it.”

The next day the youth went to the Padishah’s garden, and asked the gardener to take him as a servant, and he begged and prayed till the gardener had not the heart to refuse him. “Very well, I will take thee,” said he, “and thou wilt have nought to do but water the flowers of the garden.”

Now the Sultan’s daughter saw the youth, called him to her window, and asked him how he had managed to reach that realm. Then the youth told her that his father was a Padishah, that he had fought with the dragon Champalak on his travels, and had promised to bring him the Sultan’s daughter. “Yet fear thou nothing,” added the youth, “my love is stronger than the love of the serpent, and if thou wilt only have the courage to come with me, trust me to find a way of disposing of him.”

The damsel was so much in love with the prince, and so eager to escape from her captivity, that she consented to trust herself to him, and one night they escaped from her palace and went straight towards the desert where dwelt the dragon Champalak. They agreed on the way that the girl should find out what the dragon’s talisman was, that they might destroy him that way if they could do it no other.