Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu—P. 256.
How, in the name of all that is wonderful—how has it happened that this
ever-delightful tale is not found in any text of The Nights? And how could it
be supposed for a moment that Galland was capable of conceiving such a tale—
redolent, as it is, of the East and of Fairyland? Not that Fairyland where
"True Thomas," otherwise ycleped Thomas the Rymer, otherwise Thomas of
Erceldoune, passed several years in the bewitching society of the Fairy Queen,
years which appeared to him as only so many moments: but Eastern Fairyland,
with all its enchanting scenes; where priceless gems are as plentiful as
"autumnal leaves which strong the brooks in Vallombrosa;" where, in the royal
banqueting hall, illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, in candelabra of
the finest amber and the purest crystal are bands of charming damsels, fairest
of form and feature, who play on sweet- toned instruments which discourse
heart-ravishing strains of melody;—meanwhile the beauteous PerÝ Bßn· is
seated on a throne adorned with diamonds and rubies and emeralds, and pearls
and other gems, and by her side is the thrice-happy Prince Ahmad, who feels
himself amply indemnified for the loss of his fair cousin Princess
N·r-en-Nihßr. Auspicious was that day when he shot the arrow which the
enamoured PerÝ Bßn· caused to be wafted through the air much farther than arm
of flesh could ever send the feathered messenger! And when the Prince feels a
natural longing to visit his father in the land of mortals from time to time,
behold the splendid cavalcade issue from the portals of the fairy palace—the
gallant jinn-born cavaliers, mounted on superb steeds with gorgeous housings,
who accompany him to his father’s capital. But alas! the brightest sky is
sooner or later overcast—human felicity is—etc., etc. The old king’s mind is
poisoned against his noble son by the whisperings of a malignant and envious
minister—a snake in the grass—a fly in the ointment of Prince Ahmad’s
beatitude! And to think of the old witch gaining access to the fairy palace—
it was nothing less than an atrocity! And the tasks which she induces the king
to set Prince Ahmad to perform—but they are all accomplished for him by his
fairy bride. The only thing to regret—the fatal blemish in the tale—is the
slaughter of the old king. Shabbar did right well to dash into the smallest
pieces the wicked vazÝr and the foul witch and all who aided and abetted them,
but "to kill a king!" and a well-meaning if soft-headed king, who was, like
many better men, led astray by evil counsellors!
Having thus blown off the steam—I mean to say, having thus ventilated the
enthusiasm engendered by again reading the tale of Prince Ahmad and the PerÝ
Bßn·, I am now in a fitter frame of mind for the business of examining some
versions and variants of it, for though the tale has not yet been found in
Arabic, it is known from the banks of Ganga to the snow-clad hills and vales
of Iceland—that strange land whose heart is full of the fiercest fires. This
tale, like that of Zayn al-Asnßm, comprises two distinct stories, which have
no necessary connection, to wit, (1) the adventures of the Three Princes, each
in quest of the rarest treasure, wherewith to win the beautiful Princess
N·r-en-Nihßr; and (2) the subsequent history of the third Prince and the PerÝ
Bßn·. The oldest known form of the story concludes with the recovery of the
lady—not from death’s door, but from a giant who had carried her off, and the
rival claims of the heroes to the hand of the lady are left undecided:
certainly a most unsatisfactory ending, though it must be confessed the case
was, as the priest found that of Paddy and the stolen pullet, somewhat
"abstruse." In the "Vetßlapanchavinsati," or Twenty-five Tales of a Vampyre
(concerning which collection see Appendix to the preceding volumes, p. 230),
the fifth recital is to this purpose:
There was a Brßhman in Ajjayini (Oojein) whose name was Harisvamin; he had a
son named Devasvamin and a daughter far famed for her wondrous beauty and
rightly called Somaprabha (Moonlight). When the maiden had attained
marriageable age, she declared to her parents that she was only to be married
to a man who possessed heroism, or knowledge, or magic power. It happened soon
after this that Harisvamin was sent by the king on state business to the
Dekkan, and while there a young Brßhman, who had heard the report of
Somaprabha’s beauty, came to him as a suitor for the hand of his daughter.
Harisvamin informed him of the qualifications which her husband must possess,
and the Brßhman answered that he was endowed with magic power, and having
shown this to the father’s satisfaction, he promised to give him his daughter
on the seventh day from that time. In like manner, at home, the son and the
wife of Harisvamin had, unknown to each other, promised Somaprabha to a young
man who was skilled in the use of missile weapons and was very brave, and to a
youth who possessed knowledge of the past, the present, and the future; and
the marriage was also fixed to take place on the seventh day. When Harisvamin
returned home he at once told his wife and son of the contract he has entered
into with the young Brßhman, and they in their turn acquainted him of their
separate engagements, and all were much perplexed what course to adopt in the
circumstances.
On the seventh day the three suitors arrived, but Somaprabha was found to have
disappeared in some inexplicable manner. The father then appealed to the man
of knowledge, saying, "Tell me where my daughter is gone?" He replied, "She
has been carried off by a rßkshasa to his habitation in the Vindhya forest."
Then quoth the man of magic power "Be of good cheer, for I will take you in a
moment where the possessor of knowledge says she is." And forthwith he
prepared a magic chariot that could fly through the air, provided all sorts of
weapons, and made Harisvamin, the man of knowledge, and the brave man enter it
along with himself, and in a moment carried them to the dwelling of the
rßkshasa. Then followed a wonderful fight between the brave man and the
rßkshasa, and in a short time the hero cut off his head, after which they took
Somaprabha into the chariot and quickly returned to Harisvamin’s house. And
now arose a great dispute between the three suitors. Said the man of
knowledge, "If I had not known where the maiden was how could she have been
discovered?" The man of magic argued, "If I had not made this chariot that can
fly through the air, how could you all have come and returned in a moment?"
Then the brave man said, "If I had not slain the rßkshasa, how could the
maiden have been rescued?" While they were thus wrangling Harisvamin remained
silent, perplexed in mind. The Vampyre, having told this story to the King,
demanded to know to whom the maiden should have been given. The King replied,
"She ought to have been given to the brave man; for he won her by the might of
his arm and at the risk of his life, slaying that rßkshasa in combat. But the
man of knowledge and the man of magic power were appointed by the Creator to
serve as his instruments." The perplexed Harisvamin would have been glad, no
doubt, could he have had such a logical solution of the question as this of
the sagacious King Trivikramasena—such was his six-syllabled name.
The HindÝ version ("Baytßl PachÝsi") corresponds with the Sanskrit, but in the
Tamil version the father, after hearing from each of the three suitors an
account of his accomplishments, promises to give his daughter to "one of
them." Meanwhile a giant comes and carries off the damsel. There is no
difference in the rest of the story.
In the Persian Parrot-Book ("T·tÝ Nßma" ) where the tale is also found
[FN#414]—it is the 34th recital of the loquacious bird in the India Office
MS. No. 2573, the 6th in B. Gerrans’ partial translation, 1792, and the 22nd
in Kßderi’s abridgment—the first suitor says that his art is to discover
anything lost and to predict future events; the second can make a horse of
wood which would fly through the air; and the third was an unerring archer.
In the Persian "Sindibßd Nßma," a princess, while amusing herself in a garden
with her maidens, is carried away by a demon to his cave in the mountains. The
king proclaims that he will give his daughter in marriage to whoever should
bring her back. Four brothers offer themselves for the undertaking: one is a
guide who has travelled over the world; the second is a daring robber, who
would take the prey even from the lion’s mouth; the third is a brave warrior;
and the fourth is a skilful physician. The guide leads the three others to the
demons’ cave, the robber steals the damsel while the demon is absent; the
physician, finding her at death’s door, restored her to perfect health; while
the warrior puts to flight a host of demons who sallied out of the cave.
The Sanskrit story has undergone a curious transformation among the Kalmuks.
In the 9th Relation of SiddhÝ K·r (a Mongolian version of the Vampyre Tales)
six youths are companions: an astrologer, a smith, a doctor, a mechanic, a
painter, and a rich man’s son. At the mouth of a great river each plants a
tree of life and separates, taking different roads, having agreed to meet
again at the same spot, when if the tree of any of them is found to be
withered it will be a token that he is dead. The rich man’s son marries a
beautiful girl, who is taken from him by the Khan, and the youth is at the
same time put to death by the Khan’s soldiers and buried under a great rock.
When the four other young men meet at the time and place appointed they find
the tree of the rich youth withered. Thereupon the astrologer by his art
discovers where the youth is buried; the smith breaks the rock asunder; the
physician restores the youth to life, and he tells them how the Khan had
robbed him of his wife and killed him. The mechanic then constructs a flying
chariot in the form of Garuda—the bird of Vishnu; the counterpart of the
Arabian rukh—which the painter decorates, and when it is finished the rich
youth enters it and is swiftly borne through the air to the roof of the Khan’s
dwelling, where he alights. The Khan, supposing the machine to be a real
Garuda, sends the rich youth’s own wife to the roof with some food for it.
Could anything have been more fortunate? The youth takes her into the wooden
Garuda and they quickly arrive at the place where his companions waited for
his return. When they beheld the marvellous beauty of the lady the five
skilful men instantly fell in love with her, and began to quarrel among
themselves, each claiming the lady as his by right, and drawing their knives
they fought and slew one another. So the rich youth was left in undisputed
possession of his beautiful bride.
Coming back to Europe we find the primitive form of the story partly preserved
in a Greek popular version given in Hahn’s collection: Three young men are in
love with the same girl, and agree to go away and meet again at a given time,
when he who shall have learned the best craft shall marry the girl. They meet
after three years’ absence. One has become a famous astronomer; the second is
so skilful a physician that he can raise the dead, and the third can run
faster than the wind. The astronomer looks at the girl’s star and knows from
its trembling that she is on the point of death. The physician prepares a
medicine which the third runs off with at the top of his speed, and pours it
down the girl’s throat just in time to save her life—though, for the matter
of that, she might as well have died, since the second suitor was able to
resuscitate the dead!
But the German tale of the Four Clever Brothers, divested of the preliminary
incidents which have been brought into it from different folk-tales, more
nearly approaches the form of the original, as we may term the Sanskrit story
for convenience’ sake: A poor man sends his four sons into the world, each to
learn some craft by which he might gain his own livelihood. After travelling
together for some time they came to a place where four roads branched off and
there they separated, each going along one of the roads, having agreed to meet
at the same spot that day four years. One learns to be an excellent astronomer
and, on quitting, his master gives him a telescope, [FN#415] saying, "With this
thou canst see whatever takes place either on earth or in heaven, and nothing
can remain concealed from thee." Another becomes a most expert thief. The
third learns to be a sharpshooter and gets from his master a gun which would
never fail him: whatever he aimed at he was sure to hit. And the youngest
becomes a very clever tailor and is presented by his master with a needle,
which could sew anything together, hard or soft. At the end of the four years
they met according to agreement, and returning together to their father’s
house, they satisfied the old man with a display of their abilities Soon after
this the king’s daughter was carried off by a dragon, and the king proclaimed
that whoever brought her back should have her to wife. This the four clever
brothers thought was a fine chance for them, and they resolved to liberate the
king’s daughter. The astronomer looked through his telescope and saw the
princess far away on a rock in the sea and the dragon watching beside her.
Then they went and got a ship from the king, and sailed over the sea till they
came to the rock, where the princess was sitting and the dragon was asleep
with his head in her lap. The hunter feared to shoot lest he should kill the
princess. Then the thief crept up the rock and stole her from under the dragon
so cleverly that the monster did not awake. Full of joy, they hurried off with
her and sailed away. But presently the dragon awoke and missing the princess
flew after them through the air. Just as he was hovering above the ship to
swoop down upon it, the hunter shot him through the heart and he tumbled down
dead, but falling on the vessel his carcase smashed it into pieces. They laid
hold of two planks and drifted about till the tailor with his wonderful needle
sewed the planks together, and then they collected the fragments of the ship
which the tailor also sewed together so skilfully that their ship was again
sea-worthy, and they soon got home in safety. The king was right glad to see
his daughter and told the four brothers they must settle among themselves
which of them should have her to wife. Upon this they began to wrangle with
one another. The astronomer said, "If I had not seen the princess, all your
arts would have been useless, so she is mine." The thief claimed her, because
he had rescued her from the dragon; the hunter, because he had shot the
monster; and the tailor, because he had sewn the ship together and saved them
all from drowning. Then the king decreed: "Each of you has an equal right, and
as all of you cannot have her, none of you shall; but I will give to each as a
reward half a kingdom," with which the four clever brothers were well
contented.
The story has assumed a droll form among the Albanians, in which no fewer than
seven remarkably endowed youths play their parts in rescuing a king’s daughter
from the Devil, who had stolen her out of the palace. One of the heroes could
hear far off; the second could make the earth open; the third could steal from
any one without his knowing it; the fourth could throw an object to the end of
the world; the fifth could erect an impregnable tower; the sixth could bring
down anything however high it might be in the air and the seventh could catch
whatever fell from any height. So they set off together, and after travelling
along way, the first lays his ear to the ground. "I hear him," he says. Then
the second causes the earth to open, and down they go, and find the Devil
sound asleep, snoring like thunder, with the princess clasped to his breast.
The third youth steals her without waking the fiend. Then the fourth takes off
the Devil’s shoes and flings them to the end of the world, and off they all go
with the princess. The Devil wakes and goes after them, but first he must find
his shoes—though what need he could have for shoes it is not easy to say; but
mayhap the Devil of the Albanians is minus horns, hoof and tail! This gives
the fifth hero time to erect his impregnable tower before the fiend returns
from the end of the world. When he comes to the tower he finds all his skill
is naught, so he has recourse to artifice, which indeed has always been his
forte. He begs piteously to be allowed one last look of his beloved princess.
They can’t refuse him so slight a favour, and make a tiny hole in the tower
wall, but, tiny as it is, the Devil is able to pull the princess through it
and instantly mounts on high with her. Now is the marksman’s opportunity: he
shoots at the fiend and down he comes, "like a hundred of bricks" (as we don’t
say in the classics), at the same time letting go the princess, who is
cleverly caught by the seventh hero, and is none the worse for her aerial
journey. The princess chooses the seventh for her husband, as he is the
youngest and best looking, but her father the king rewards his companions
handsomely and all are satisfied.
The charming history of Prince Ahmad and his fairy bride is "conspicuous from
its absence" in all these versions, but it re-appears in the Italian
collection of Nerucci: "Novelle Popolari Montalesi," No. xl., p. 335, with
some variations from Galland’s story:
A certain king had three daughters, and a neighbouring king had three sons,
who were much devoted to the chase. They arrived at the city of the first
king, and all fell in love with his daughter [FN#416] and wanted to marry her.
Her father said it was impossible to content them all, but if one of them
would ask her, and if he pleased her, he would not oppose the marriage. They
could not agree which it was to be, and her father proposed that they should
all travel, and the one who at the end of six months brought the most
beautiful and wonderful present should marry her. They set out in different
directions and at the end of six months they meet by appointment at a certain
inn. The eldest brings a magic carpet on which he is wafted whithersoever he
will. (It goes a hundred miles in a day.) The second brings a telescope which
shows whatever is happening a hundred miles away. The youngest brings three
stones of a grape, one of which put into the mouth of a person who is dying
restores him to life. They at once test the telescope by wishing to see the
princess, and they find her dying—at the last gasp indeed. By means of the
carpet they reach the palace m time to save her life with one of the
grape-stones. Each claims the victory. Her father, almost at his wits’ end to
decide the question, decrees that they shall shoot with the crossbow, and he
who shoots farthest shall win the princess. The second brother shoots farther
than the first; but the youngest shoots so far that they cannot find where
kits arrow has fallen. He persists in the search and falls down a deep hole,
from the bottom of which he can scarcely see a speck of the sky. There an ogre
(mago) appears to him and also a bevy of young fairy maidens of extreme
beauty. They lead him to a marvellous palace, give him refreshments and
provide him with a room and a bed, where every night one of the fairies bears
him company. He spends his days in pleasure until the king’s daughter is
almost forgotten. At last he begins to think he ought to learn what has become
of his brothers, his father, and the lady. The chief fairy however, tries to
dissuade him warning him that evil will befall him if he return to his
brothers. He persists, and she tells him that the princess is given to his
eldest brother, who reigns in his father-in-law’s stead the latter having
died, and that his own father is also dead; and she warns him again not to go.
But he goes. His eldest brother says that he thought he was dead "in that
hole." The hero replies that, on the contrary, he fares so well with a bevy of
young and beautiful fairies that he does not even envy him, and would not
change places with him for all the treasures in the world. His brother,
devoured by rage, demands that the hero bring him within eight days a pavilion
of silk which will lodge three hundred soldiers, otherwise he will destroy his
palace of delights. The hero, affrighted, returns to the fairies and relates
his brother’s threats. The chief fairy says, "Didn’t I tell you so? You
deserve that I should leave you to your fate; but, out of pity for your youth,
I will help you." And he returns to his brother within eight days with the
required pavilion. But his brother is not satisfied: he demands another silk
pavilion for 600 soldiers, else he will lay waste the abode of the fairies.
This pavilion he also receives from the fairies, and it was much finer and
richer than the first. His brother’s demands rise when he sees that the hero
does not find any difficulty in satisfying him. He now commands that a column
of iron 12 cubits (braccia) high be erected in the midst of a piazza. The
chief of the fairies also complies with this requirement. The column is ready
in a moment, and as the hero cannot carry it himself, she gives it to the
guardian ogre, who carries it upon his shoulders, and presents himself, along
with the hero, before the eldest brother. As soon as the latter comes to see
the column set in the piazza the ogre knocks him down and reduces him to pulp
(cofaccino, lit., a cake), and the hero marries his brother’s widow and
becomes king in his stead.
Almost suspiciously like the story in Galland in many of the details is an
Icelandic version in Powell and Magn·sson’s collection, yet I cannot conceive
how the peasantry of that country could have got it out of "Les Mille et une
Nuits." There are two ways by which the story might have reached them
independently of Galland’s work: the Arabs and Persians traded extensively in
former times with Scandinavia, through Russia, and this as well as other Norse
tales of undoubtedly Eastern extraction may have been communicated by the same
channel; [FN#417] or the Norsemen may have taken it back with them from the
South of Europe. But however this may be, the Icelandic version is so quaint
in its diction, has such a fresh aroma about it, and such novel particulars,
that I feel justified in giving it here in full:
It is said that once, in the days of old, there was a good and wealthy king
who ruled over a great and powerful realm; but neither his name nor that of
his kingdom is given, nor the latter’s whereabouts in the world. He had a
queen, and by her three sons, who were all fine youths and hopeful, and the
king loved them well. The king had taken, too, a king’s daughter from a
neighbouring kingdom, to foster her, and she was brought up with his sons. She
was of the same age as they, and the most beautiful and accomplished lady that
had ever been seen in those days, and the king loved her in no way less than
his own sons. When the princess was of age, all the king’s sons fell in love
with her, and things even went so far that they all of them engaged her at
once, each in his own name. Their father, being the princess’s foster-father,
had the right of bestowing her in marriage, as her own father was dead. But as
he was fond of all his sons equally the answer he gave them was, that he left
it to the lady’s own choice to take for a husband whichever of the brothers
she loved the most. On a certain day he had the princess called up to him and
declared his will to her, telling her that she might choose for a husband
whichever she liked best of his sons. The princess answered, "Bound I am in
duty to obey your words. But as to this choice of one of your sons to be my
husband I am in the greatest perplexity; for I must confess they are all
equally dear to me, and I cannot choose one before the other." When the king
heard this answer of the princess he found himself in a new embarrassment, and
thought a long while what he could do that should be equally agreeable to all
parties, and at last hit upon the following decision of the matter: that all
his sons should after a year’s travel return each with a precious thing, and
that he who had the finest thing should be the princess’s husband. This
decision the king’s sons found to be a just one and they agreed to meet after
one year at a certain castle in the country, whence they should go all
together, to the town, in order to lay their gifts before the princess. And
now their departure from the country was arranged as well as could be.
First the tale tells of the eldest, that he went from one land to another, and
from one city to another, in search of a precious thing, but found nowhere
anything that at all suited his ideas. At last the news came to his ears that
there was a princess who had so fine a spy-glass that nothing so marvellous
had ever been seen or heard of before. In it one could see all over the world,
every place, every city, every man, and every living being that moved on the
face of the earth, and what every living thing in the world was doing. Now the
prince thought that surely there could be no more precious thing at all likely
to turn up for him than this telescope; he therefore went to the princess, in
order to buy the spy-glass if possible. But by no means could he prevail upon
the king’s daughter to part with her spy-glass, till he had told her his whole
story and why he wanted it, and used all his powers of entreaty. As might be
expected, he paid for it well. Having got it he returned home, glad at his
luck, and hoping to wed the king’s daughter.
The story next turns to the second son. He had to struggle with the same
difficulties as his elder brother. He travelled for a long while over the wide
world without finding anything at all suitable, and thus for a time he saw no
chance of his wishes being fulfilled. Once he came into a very well-peopled
city; and went about in search of precious things among the merchants, but
neither did he find nor even see what he wanted. He heard that there lived a
short way from the town a dwarf, the cleverest maker of curious and cunning
things. He therefore resolved to go to the dwarf in order to try whether he
could be persuaded to make him any costly thing. The dwarf said that he had
ceased to make things of that sort now and he must beg to be excused from
making anything of the kind for the prince. But he said that he had a piece of
cloth, made in his younger days, with which however, he was very unwilling to
part. The king’s son asked the nature and use of the cloth The dwarf answered,
"On this cloth one can go all over the world, as well through the air as on
the water. Runes are on it, which must be understood by him who uses it." Now
the prince saw that a more precious thing than this could scarcely be found,
and therefore asked the dwarf by all means to let him have the cloth. And
although the dwarf would not at first part with his cloth at all, yet at last,
hearing what would happen if the king’s son did not get it, he sold it to him
at a mighty high price. The prince was truly glad to have got the cloth, for
it was not only a cloth of great value, but also the greatest of treasures m
other respects, having gold-seams and jewel-embroidery. After this he returned
home, hoping to get the best of his brothers in the contest for the damsel.
The youngest prince left home last of all the three brethren. [FN#418] First he
travelled from one village to another in his own country, and went about
asking for precious things of every merchant he met on his way, as also on all
sides where there was the slightest hope of his getting what he wanted. But
all his endeavours were in vain, and the greater part of the year was spent in
fruitless search till at last he waxed sad in mind at his lot. At this time he
came into a well-peopled city, whereto people were gathered from all parts of
the world. He went from one merchant to another till at last he came to one
who sold apples. [FN#419] This merchant said he had an apple that was of so
strange a nature that if it was put into the arm-hole of a dying man he would
at once return to life. He declared that it was the property of his family and
had always been used in the family as a medicine. As soon as the king’s son
heard this he would by all means have the apple, deeming that he would never
be able to find a thing more acceptable to the king’s daughter than this. He
therefore asked the merchant to sell him the apple and told him all the story
of his search, and that his earthly welfare was based upon his being in no way
inferior to his brethren in his choice of precious things for the princess.
The merchant felt pity for the prince when he had told him his story, so much
so that he sold him the apple, and the prince returned home, glad and
comforted at his happy luck.
Now nothing more is related of the three brothers till they met together at
the place before appointed. When they were all together each related the
striking points in his travelling. All being here, the eldest brother thought
that he would be the first to see the princess and find out how she was and
therefore he took forth his spy-glass and turned it towards the city. But what
saw he? The beloved princess lying in her bed, in the very jaws of death! The
king, his father, and all the highest nobles of the court were standing round
the bed in the blackness of sorrow, sad in their minds, and ready to receive
the last sigh of the fair princess. When the prince saw this lamentable sight
he was grieved beyond measure. He told his brothers what he had seen and they
were no less struck with sorrow than himself. They began bewailing loudly,
saying that they would give all they had never to have undertaken this
journey, for then at least they would have been able to perform the last
offices for the fair princess. But in the midst of these bewailings the second
brother bethought him of his cloth, and remembered that he could get to the
town on it in a moment. He told this to his brothers and they were glad at
such good and unexpected news. Now the cloth was unfolded and they all stepped
on to it, and in one of moment it was high in the air and in the next inside
the town. When they were there they made all haste to reach the room of the
princess, where everybody wore an air deep sadness. They were told that the
princess’s every breath was her last. Then the youngest brother remembered his
wonderful apple, and thought that it would never be more wanted to show its
healing power than now. He therefore went straight into the bed-room of the
princess and placed the apple under her right arm. And at the same moment it
was as if a new breath of life flushed through the whole body of the princess;
her eyes opened, and after a little while she began to speak to the folk
around her. This and the return of the king’s sons caused great joy at the
court of the king.
Now some time went by until the princess was fully recovered. Then a large
meeting was called together, at which the brothers were bidden to show their
treasures. First the eldest made his appearance, and showing his spy-glass
told what a wonderful thing it was, and also how it was due to this glass that
the life of the fair princess had ever been saved, as he had seen through it
how matters stood in the town. He therefore did not doubt for a moment that
his gift was the one which would secure him the fair princess.
Next stepped forward the second brother with the cloth. Having described its
powers, he said, "I am of opinion that my brother’s having seen the princess
first would have proved of little avail had I not had the cloth, for thereupon
we came so quickly to the place to save the princess; and I must declare that
to my mind, the cloth is the chief cause of the king’s daughter’s recovery."
Next stepped forward the youngest prince and said, as he laid the apple before
the people, "Little would the glass and the cloth have availed to save the
princess’s live had I not had the apple. What could we brothers have profited
in being only witnesses of the beloved damsel’s death? What would this have
done, but awaken our grief and regret? It is due alone to the apple that the
princess is yet alive; wherefore I find myself the most deserving of her."
Then a long discussion arose in the meeting, and the decision at last came
out, that all the three things had worked equally towards the princess’s
recovery, as might be seen from the fact that if one had been wanting the
others would have been worthless. It was therefore declared that, as all gifts
had equal claim to the prize, no one could decide to whom the princess should
belong.
After this the king planned another contrivance in order to come to some end
of the matter. He soon should try their skill in shooting, and he who proved
to be the ablest shooter of them should have the princess. So a mark was
raised and the eldest brother stepped forward with his bow and quiver. He
shot, and no great distance from the mark fell his arrow. After that stepped
forward the second brother, and his arrow well-nigh reached the mark. Last of
all stepped forward the third and youngest brother, and his arrow seemed to go
farther than the others, but in spite of continued search for many days it
could not be found. The king decided in this matter that his second son should
marry the princess They were married accordingly, and as the king, the father
of the princess, was dead, his daughter now succeeded him, and her husband
became king over his wife’s inheritance. They are now out of this tale, as is
also the eldest brother, who settled in life abroad.
The youngest brother stayed at home with his father, highly displeased at the
decision the latter had given concerning the marriage of the princess. He was
wont to wander about every day where he fancied his arrow had fallen, and at
last he found it fixed in an oak in the forest, and saw that it had by far
outstripped the mark. He now called together witnesses to the place where the
arrow was, with the intention of bringing about some justice m his case. But
of this there was no chance, for the king said he could by no means alter his
decision. At this the king’s son was so grieved that he went well-nigh out of
his wits. One day he busked for a journey, with the full intention of never
again setting foot m his country. He took with him all he possessed of fine
and precious things, nobody knowing his rede, not even his father, the king.
He went into a great forest and wandered about there many days, without
knowing whither he was going, and at last, yielding to hunger and weariness,
he found himself no longer equal to travelling; so he sat down under a tree,
thinking that his sad and sorrowful life would here come to a close. But after
he had sat thus awhile he saw ten people, all in fine attire and bright
armour, come riding towards the stone. On arriving there they dismounted, and
having greeted the king’s son begged him to go with them, and mount the spare
horse they had with them, saddled and bridled in royal fashion. He accepted
this offer and mounted the horse, and after this they rode on their way till
they came to a large city. The riders dismounted and led the prince into the
town, which was governed by a young and beautiful maiden-queen. The riders led
the king’s son at once to the virgin-queen, who received him with great
kindness. She told him that she had heard of all the ill-luck that had
befallen him and also that he had fled from his father. "Then," quoth she, "a
burning love for you was kindled in my breast and a longing to heal your
wounds. You must know that it was I who sent the ten riders to find you out
and bring you hither. I give you the chance of staying here; I offer you the
rule of my whole kingdom, and I will try to sweeten your embittered life;—
this is all that I am able to do." Although the prince was in a sad and gloomy
state of mind, he saw nothing better than to accept this generous offer and
agree to the marriage with the maiden-queen. A grand feast was made ready, and
they were married according to the ways of that country. And the young king
took at once in hand the government, which he managed with much ability.
Now the story turns homewards, to the old king. After the disappearance of his
son he became sad and weary of life, being, as he was, sinking in age. His
queen also had died sometime since. One day it happened that a wayfaring woman
came to the palace. She had much knowledge about many things and knew how to
tell tales. [FN#420] The king was greatly delighted with her story-telling and
she got soon into his favour. Thus some time passed. But in course of time the
king fell deeply in love with this woman, and at last married her and made her
his queen, in spite of strong dissent from the court. Shortly this new queen
began meddling in the affairs of the government, and it soon turned out that
she was spoiling everything by her redes, whenever she had the chance. Once it
happened that the queen spoke to the king and said, "Strange indeed it seems
to me that you make no inquiry about your youngest son’s running away: smaller
faults have been often chastised than that. You must have heard that he has
become king in one of the neighbouring kingdoms, and that it is a common tale
that he is going to invade your dominions with a great army whenever he gets
the wished-for opportunity, in order to avenge the injustice he thinks he has
suffered in that bygone bridal question. Now I want you to be the first in
throwing this danger off-hand." The king showed little interest in the matter
and paid to his wife’s chattering but little attention. But she contrived at
length so to speak to him as to make him place faith in her words, and he
asked her to give him good redes, that this matter might be arranged in such a
way as to be least observed by other folk. The queen said, "You must send men
with gifts to him and pray him to come to you for an interview, in order to
arrange certain political matters before your death, as also to strengthen
your friendship with an interchange of marks of kindred. And then I will give
you further advice as to what to do." The king was satisfied with this and
equipped his messengers royally.
Then the messengers came before the young king, saying they were sent by his
father, who wished his son to come and see him without delay. To this the
young king answered well, and lost no time in bushing his men and himself. But
when his queen knew this she said he would assuredly rue this journey. The
king went off, however, and nothing is said of his travels till he came to the
town where his father lived. His father received him rather coldly, much to
the wonder and amazement of his son. And when he had been there a short while
his father gave him a good chiding for having run away. "Thereby," said the
old king, "you have shown full contempt of myself and caused me such sorrow as
well-nigh brought me to the grave. Therefore, according to the law, you have
deserved to die; but as you have delivered yourself up into my power and are,
on the other hand, my son, I have no mind to have you killed. But I have three
tasks for you which you must have performed within a year, on pain of death.
The first is that you bring me a tent which will hold one hundred men but can
yet be hidden in the closed hand; [FN#421] the second, that you shall bring me
water that cures all ailments; [FN#422] and the third, that you shall bring me
hither a man who has not his like in the whole world." "Show me whither I
shall go to obtain these things," said the young king. "That you must find out
for yourself," replied the other.
Then the old king turned his back upon his son and went off. Away went also
the young king, no farewells being said, and nothing is told of his travels
till he came home to his realm. He was then very sad and heavy-minded, and the
queen seeing this asked him earnestly what had befallen him and what caused
the gloom on his mind. He declared that this did not regard her. The queen
answered, "I know that tasks must have been set you which it will not prove
easy to perform. But what will it avail you to sit sullen and sad on account
of such things? Behave as a man, and try if these tasks may not indeed be
accomplished."
Now the king thought it best tell the queen all that had happened and how
matters stood. "All this," said the queen, "is the rede of your stepmother,
and it would be well indeed if she could do you no more harm by it than she
has already tried to do. She has chosen such difficulties she thought you
would not easily get over, but I can do something here. The tent is in my
possession, so there is that difficulty over. The water you have to get is a
short way hence but very hard of approach. It is in a well and the well is in
a cave hellishly dark. The well is watched by seven lions and three serpents,
and from these monsters nobody has ever returned alive; and the nature of the
water is that it has no healing power whatever unless it be drawn when all
these monsters are awake. Now I will risk the undertaking of drawing the
water." So the queen made herself ready to go to the cave, taking with her
seven oxen and three pigs. When she came before the cave she ordered the oxen
to be killed and thrown before the lions and the pigs before the serpents. And
while these monsters tore and devoured the carcases the queen stepped down
into the well and drew as much water as she wanted. And she left the cave just
in time as the beasts finished devouring their bait. After this the queen went
home to the palace having thus got over the second trial.
Then she came to her husband and said, "Now two of the tasks are done, but the
third and indeed the hardest, of them is left. Moreover, this is one you must
perform yourself, but I can give you some hints as to whither to go for it. I
have got a half brother who rules over an island not far from hence. He is
three feet high, and has one eye in the middle of his forehead. He has a beard
thirty ells long, stiff and hard as a hog’s bristles. He has a dog’s snout and
cat’s ears, and I should scarcely fancy he has his like in the whole world.
When he travels he flings himself forward on a staff of fifty ells’ length,
with a pace as swift as a bird’s flight. Once when my father was out hunting
he was charmed by an ogress who lived in a cave under a waterfall, and with
her he begat this bugbear. The island is one-third of my father’s realm, but
his son finds it too small for him. My father had a ring the greatest gem,
which each of us would have, sister and brother, but I got it, wherefore he
has been my enemy ever since. Now I will write him a letter and send him the
ring in the hope that that will soften him and turn him in our favour. You
shall make ready to go to him, with a splendid suite, and when you come to his
palace-door you shall take off your crown and creep bareheaded over the floor
up to his throne. Then you shall kiss his right foot and give him the letter
and the ring. And if he orders you to stand up, you have succeeded in your
task; if not, you have failed."
So he did everything that he was bidden by the queen, and when he appeared
before the one-eyed king he was stupefied at his tremendous ugliness and his
bugbear appearance; but he plucked up courage as best he could and gave him
the letter and the ring. When the king saw the letter and the ring his face
brightened up, and he said, "Surely my sister finds herself in straits now, as
she sends me this ring." And when he had read the letter he bade the king, his
brother-in-law, stand up, and declared that he was ready to comply with his
sister’s wish and to go off at once without delay. He seized his staff and
started away, but stopped now and then for his brother-in-law and his suite,
to whom he gave a good chiding for their slowness. [FN#423] They continued thus
their march until they came to the palace of the queen, the ugly king’s
sister; but when they arrived there the one-eyed king cried with a roaring
voice to his sister, and asked her what she wished, as she had troubled him to
come so far from home. She then told him all the matter as it really was and
begged him to help her husband out of the trial put before him. He said he was
ready to do so, but would brook no delay.
Now both kings went off, and nothing is told of their journey until they came
to the old king. The young king announced to his father his coming and that he
brought with him what he had ordered last year. He wished his father to call
together a ting [FN#424] in order that he might show openly how he had
performed his tasks. This was done, and the king and the queen and other great
folk were assembled. First the tent was put forward and nobody could find
fault with it. Secondly the young king gave the wondrous healing water to his
father. The queen was prayed to taste it and see if it was the right water,
taken at the right time. She said that both things were as they should be.
Then said the old king, "Now the third and heaviest of all the tasks is left:
come, and have it off your hands quickly." Then the young king summoned the
king with one eye, and as he appeared on the ting he waxed so hideous that all
the people were struck with fright and horror, and most of all the king. When
this ugly monarch had shown himself for a while there he thrust his staff
against the breast of the queen and tilted her up into the air on the top of
it, and then thrust her against the ground with such force that every bone in
her body was broken. She turned at once into the most monstrous troll ever
beheld. After this the one eyed king rushed away from the ting and the people
thronged round the old king in order to help him, for he was in the very jaws
of death from fright. The healing water was sprinkled on him and refreshed
him.
After the death of the queen, who was killed of course when she turned into a
troll, the king confessed that all the tasks which he had given his son to
perform were undeserved and that he had acted thus, egged on by the queen. He
called his son to him and humbly begged his forgiveness for what he had done
against him. He declared he would atone for it by giving into his hand all
that kingdom, while he himself only wished to live in peace and quiet for the
rest of his days. So the young king sent for his queen and for the courtiers
whom he loved most. And, to make a long story short, they gave up their former
kingdom to the king with one eye, as a reward, for his lifetime, but governed
the realm of the old king to a high age, in great glee and happiness,