The Olive Fairy Book

by Andrew Lang

  'What does it matter?' said the rani; 'do you want me to die? Surely you can get some more where these came from?' And then she fell to weeping and wailing until the rajah promised that in the morning he would make arrangements to get some more such rubies, and that if she would be patient she should have her desire.

  In the morning the rajah sent for the wazir, and said that he must manage to get eight more rubies like those he had brought him the day before, 'and if you don't I shall hang you,' cried the rajah, for he was very cross. The poor wazir protested in vain that he knew not where to seek them; his master would not listen to a word he said.

  'You must,' said he; 'the rani shall not die for the want of a few rubies! Get more where those came from.'

  *

  The wazir left the palace, much troubled in mind, and bade his slaves bring Léna before him. 'Get me eight more such rubies as those you brought yesterday,' commanded the wazir, directly the banker was shown into his presence. 'Eight more, and be quick, or I am a dead man.'

  'But how can I?' wailed Léna; 'rubies like those don't grow upon bushes!'

  'Where did you get them from?' asked the wazir.

  'From Déna, the oil-seller,' said the banker.

  'Well, send for him and ask him where he got them,' answered the wazir. 'I am not going to hang for twenty Dénas!' And more slaves were sent to summon Déna.

  When Déna arrived he was closely questioned, and then all three started to see the rajah, and to him Déna told the whole story.

  'What night was it that you slept in the peepul tree?' demanded the rajah.

  'I can't remember,' said Déna; 'but my wife will know.'

  Then Déna's wife was sent for, and she explained that it was on the last Sunday of the new moon.

  Now everyone knows that it is on the Sunday of the new moon that spirits have special power to play pranks upon mortals. So the rajah forbade them all, on pain of death, to say a word to anyone; and declared that, on the next Sunday of the new moon, they four—Kahré, Musli, Léna and Déna—would go and sit in the peepul tree and see what happened.

  The days dragged on to the appointed Sunday, and that evening the four met secretly, and entered the forest. They had not far to go before they reached the peepul tree, into which they climbed as the rajah had planned. At midnight the tree began to sway, and presently it moved through the air.

  'See, sire,' whispered Déna, 'the tree is flying!'

  'Yes, yes,' said the rajah, 'you have told the truth. Now sit quiet, and we shall see what happens.'

  Away and away flew the tree with the four men clinging tightly to its branches, until at last it was set down by the waste sea-shore where a great wide sea came tumbling in on a desert beach. Presently, as before, they began to see little points of light that glistened like fires all around them. Then Déna thought to himself:

  'Think! last time I only took four that came close to me, and I got rid of all my debt in return. This time I will take all I can get and be rich!'

  'If I got ten thousand rupees for four stones,' thought Léna, 'I will gather forty now for myself, and become so wealthy that they will probably make me a wazir at least!'

  'For four stones I received ten villages,' Musli was silently thinking; 'now I will get stones enough to purchase a kingdom, become a rajah, and employ wazirs of my own!'

  And Kahré thought: 'What is the good of only getting eight stones? Why, here are enough to make twenty necklaces; and wealth means power!'

  Full of avarice and desire, each scrambled down from the tree, spread his cloth, and darted hither and thither picking up the precious jewels, looking the while over his shoulder to see whether his neighbour fared better than he. So engrossed were they in the business of gathering wealth that the dawn came upon them unawares; and suddenly the tree rose up again and flew away, leaving them upon the sea-shore staring after it, each with his cloth heavy with priceless jewels.

  *

  Morning broke in the city, and great was the consternation in the palace when the chamberlains declared that the rajah had gone out the evening before and had not returned.

  'Ah!' said one, 'it is all right! Musli wazir will know where he is, for it was he who was the king's companion.'

  Then they went to the wazir's house, and there they learnt that the wazir had left it the evening before and had not returned; 'but,' said a servant, 'Léna the banker will know where he is, for it was with him that Musli went.'

  Then they visited the house of Léna, and there they learnt that the banker had gone out the evening before, and that he too had not returned; but the porter told them that he was accompanied by Déna the oil-seller, so he would know where they were.

  So they departed to Déna's house, and Déna's wife met them with a torrent of reproaches and wailings, for Déna too had gone off the evening before to Léna's house and had not returned.

  In vain they waited, and searched—never did any of the hapless four return to their homes; and the confused tale which was told by Déna's wife was the only clue to their fate.

  To this day, in that country, when a greedy man has overreached himself, and lost all in grasping at too much, folks say:

  'All has he lost!—neither Déna, nor Léna, nor Musli, nor Kahré remain.' And not five men in a hundred know how the proverb began, nor what it really signifies.

  (Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)

  The Fate of the Turtle

  *

  In a very hot country, far away to the east, was a beautiful little lake where two wild ducks made their home, and passed their days swimming and playing in its clear waters. They had it all to themselves, except for a turtle, who was many years older than they were, and had come there before them, and, luckily, instead of taking a dislike to the turtle, as so often happens when you have only one person to speak to, they became great friends, and spent most of the day in each other's company.

  All went on smoothly and happily till one summer, when the rains failed and the sun shone so fiercely that every morning there was a little less water in the lake and a little more mud on the bank. The water-lilies around the edge began to droop, and the palms to hang their heads, and the ducks' favourite swimming place, where they could dive the deepest, to grow shallower and shallower. At length there came a morning when the ducks looked at each other uneasily, and before nightfall they had whispered that if at the end of two days rain had not come, they must fly away and seek a new home, for if they stayed in their old one, which they loved so much, they would certainly die of thirst.

  Earnestly they watched the sky for many hours before they tucked their heads under their wings and fell asleep from sheer weariness, but not the tiniest cloud was to be seen covering the stars that shone so big and brilliant, and hung so low in the heavens that you felt as if you could touch them. So, when the morning broke, they made up their minds that they must go and tell the turtle of their plans, and bid him farewell.

  They found him comfortably curled up on a pile of dead rushes, more than half asleep, for he was old, and could not venture out in the heat as he once used.

  'Ah! here you are,' he cried; 'I began to wonder if I was ever going to see you again, for, somehow, though the lake has grown smaller, I seem to have grown weaker, and it is lonely spending all day and night by oneself!'

  'Oh! my friend,' answered the elder of the two ducks, 'if you have suffered we have suffered also. Besides, I have something to tell you, that I fear will cause you greater pain still. If we do not wish to die of thirst we must leave this place at once, and seek another where the sun's rays do not come. My heart bleeds to say this, for there is nothing—nothing else in the world—which would have induced us to separate from you.'

  The turtle was so astonished as well as so distressed at the duck's speech that for a moment he could find no words to reply. But when he had forced back his tears, he said in a shaky voice:

  'How can you think that I am able to live without you, when for so long you have been my only frien
ds? If you leave me, death will speedily put an end to my grief.'

  'Our sorrow is as great as yours,' answered the other duck, 'but what can we do? And remember that if we are not here to drink the water, there will be the more for you! If it had not been for this terrible misfortune, be sure that nothing would have parted us from one whom we love so dearly.'

  'My friends,' replied the turtle, 'water is as necessary to me as to you, and if death stares in your faces, it stares in mine also. But in the name of all the years we have passed together, do not, I beseech you, leave me to perish here alone! Wherever you may go take me with you!'

  There was a pause. The ducks felt wretched at the thought of abandoning their old comrade, yet, at the same time, how could they grant his prayer? It seemed quite impossible, and at length one of them spoke:

  'Oh, how can I find words to refuse?' cried he, 'yet how can we do what you ask? Consider that, like yours, our bodies are heavy and our feet small. Therefore, how could we walk with you over mountains and deserts, till we reached a land where the sun's rays no longer burn? Why, before the day was out we should all three be dead of fatigue and hunger! No, our only hope lies in our wings—and, alas! you cannot fly!'

  'No, I cannot fly, of course,' answered the turtle, with a sigh. 'But you are so clever, and have seen so much of the world—surely you can think of some plan?' And he fixed his eyes eagerly on them. Now, when the ducks saw how ardently the turtle wished to accompany them their hearts were touched, and making a sign to their friend that they wished to be alone they swam out into the lake to consult together. Though he could not hear what they said, the turtle could watch, and the half-hour that their talk lasted felt to him like a hundred years. At length he beheld them returning side by side, and so great was his anxiety to know his fate he almost died from excitement before they reached him.

  'We hope we have found a plan that may do for you,' said the big duck gravely, 'but we must warn you that it is not without great danger, especially if you are not careful to follow our directions.'

  'How is it possible that I should not follow your directions when my life and happiness are at stake?' asked the turtle joyfully. 'Tell me what they are, and I will promise to obey them gratefully.'

  'Well, then,' answered the duck, 'whilst we are carrying you through the air, in the manner that we have fixed upon, you must remain as quiet as if you were dead. However high above the earth you may find yourself, you must not feel afraid, nor move your feet nor open your mouth. No matter what you see or hear, it is absolutely needful for you to be perfectly still, or I cannot answer for the consequences.'

  'I will be absolutely obedient,' answered the turtle, 'not only on this occasion but during all my life; and once more I promise faithfully not to move head or foot, to fear nothing, and never to speak a word during the whole journey.'

  This being settled, the ducks swam about till they found, floating in the lake, a good stout stick. This they tied to their necks with some of the tough water-lily roots, and returned as quickly as they could to the turtle.

  'Now,' said the elder duck, pushing the stick gently towards his friend, 'take this stick firmly in your mouth, and do not let it go till we have set you down on earth again.'

  The turtle did as he was told, and the ducks in their turn seized the stick by the two ends, spread their wings and mounted swiftly into the air, the turtle hanging between them.

  For a while all went well. They swept across valleys, over great mountains, above ruined cities, but no lake was to be seen anywhere. Still, the turtle had faith in his friends, and bravely hung on to the stick.

  At length they saw in the distance a small village, and very soon they were passing over the roofs of the houses. The people were so astonished at the strange sight, that they all—men, women and children—ran out to see it, and cried to each other:

  'Look! look! behold a miracle! Two ducks supporting a turtle! Was ever such a thing known before!' Indeed, so great was the surprise that men left their ploughing and women their weaving in order to add their voices to their friends'.

  The ducks flew steadily on, heeding nothing of the commotion below; but not so the turtle. At first he kept silence, as he had been bidden to do, but at length the clamour below proved too much for him, and he began to think that everyone was envying him the power of travelling through the air. In an evil moment he forgot the promises he had made so solemnly, and opened his mouth to reply, but, before he could utter a word, he was rushing so swiftly through the air that he quickly became unconscious, and in this state was dashed to pieces against the side of a house. Then the ducks let fall after him the stick that had held up their friend, and which was of no further use. Sadly they looked at each other and shook their heads.

  'We feared it would end so,' said they, 'yet, perhaps, he was right after all. Certainly this death was better than the one which awaited him.'

  (From Les Contes et Fables Indiennes. Par M. Galland, 1724.)

  The Snake Prince

  *

  Once upon a time there lived by herself, in a city, an old woman who was desperately poor. One day she found that she had only a handful of flour left in the house, and no money to buy more nor hope of earning it. Carrying her little brass pot, very sadly she made her way down to the river to bathe and to obtain some water, thinking afterwards to come home and to make herself an unleavened cake of what flour she had left; and after that she did not know what was to become of her.

  Whilst she was bathing she left her little brass pot on the river bank covered with a cloth, to keep the inside nice and clean; but when she came up out of the river and took the cloth off to fill the pot with water, she saw inside it the glittering folds of a deadly snake. At once she popped the cloth again into the mouth of the pot and held it there; and then she said to herself:

  'Ah, kind death! I will take thee home to my house, and there I will shake thee out of my pot and thou shalt bite me and I will die, and then all my troubles will be ended.'

  With these sad thoughts in her mind the poor old woman hurried home, holding her cloth carefully in the mouth of the pot; and when she got home she shut all the doors and windows, and took away the cloth, and turned the pot upside down upon her hearthstone. What was her surprise to find that, instead of the deadly snake which she expected to see fall out of it, there fell out with a rattle and a clang a most magnificent necklace of flashing jewels!

  For a few minutes she could hardly think or speak, but stood staring; and then with trembling hands she picked the necklace up, and folding it in the corner of her veil, she hurried off to the king's hall of public audience.

  'A petition, O king!' she said. 'A petition for thy private ear alone!' And when her prayer had been granted, and she found herself alone with the king, she shook out her veil at his feet, and there fell from it in glittering coils the splendid necklace. As soon as the king saw it he was filled with amazement and delight, and the more he looked at it the more he felt that he must possess it at once. So he gave the old woman five hundred silver pieces for it, and put it straightway into his pocket. Away she went full of happiness; for the money that the king had given her was enough to keep her for the rest of her life.

  As soon as he could leave his business the king hurried off and showed his wife his prize, with which she was as pleased as he, if not more so; and, as soon as they had finished admiring the wonderful necklace, they locked it up in the great chest where the queen's jewellery was kept, the key of which hung always round the king's neck.

  A short while afterwards, a neighbouring king sent a message to say that a most lovely girl baby had been born to him; and he invited his neighbours to come to a great feast in honour of the occasion. The queen told her husband that of course they must be present at the banquet, and she would wear the new necklace which he had given her. They had only a short time to prepare for the journey, and at the last moment the king went to the jewel chest to take out the necklace for his wife to wear, but he could see no ne
cklace at all, only, in its place, a fat little boy baby crowing and shouting. The king was so astonished that he nearly fell backwards, but presently he found his voice, and called for his wife so loudly that she came running, thinking that the necklace must at least have been stolen.

  'Look here! look!' cried the king, 'haven't we always longed for a son? And now heaven has sent us one!'

  'What do you mean?' cried the queen. 'Are you mad?'

  'Mad? no, I hope not,' shouted the king, dancing in excitement round the open chest. 'Come here, and look! Look what we've got instead of that necklace!'

  Just then the baby let out a great crow of joy, as though he would like to jump up and dance with the king; and the queen gave a cry of surprise, and ran up and looked into the chest.

  'Oh!' she gasped, as she looked at the baby, 'what a darling! Where could he have come from?'

  'I'm sure I can't say,' said the king; 'all I know is that we locked up a necklace in the chest, and when I unlocked it just now there was no necklace, but a baby, and as fine a baby as ever was seen.'

  By this time the queen had the baby in her arms. 'Oh, the blessed one!' she cried, 'fairer ornament for the bosom of a queen than any necklace that ever was wrought. Write,' she continued, 'write to our neighbour and say that we cannot come to his feast, for we have a feast of our own, and a baby of our own! Oh, happy day!'

  So the visit was given up; and, in honour of the new baby, the bells of the city, and its guns, and its trumpets, and its people, small and great, had hardly any rest for a week; there was such a ringing, and banging, and blaring, and such fireworks, and feasting, and rejoicing, and merry-making, as had never been seen before.

  A few years went by; and, as the king's boy baby and his neighbour's girl baby grew and throve, the two kings arranged that as soon as they were old enough they should marry; and so, with much signing of papers and agreements, and wagging of wise heads, and stroking of grey beards, the compact was made, and signed, and sealed, and lay waiting for its fulfilment. And this too came to pass; for, as soon as the prince and princess were eighteen years of age, the kings agreed that it was time for the wedding; and the young prince journeyed away to the neighbouring kingdom for his bride, and was there married to her with great and renewed rejoicings.