by Svabhu Kohli
Then bitter wrath at this treachery arose in the elder brother’s heart, so that he drew his sword and challenged the younger to battle. Then they fought all day long, until by evening they both lay dead upon the field, and then the girl took the form of a snake once more, and behind it followed the old man silent as a shadow. But at last it changed into the likeness of an old white-bearded man, and when he who had followed so long saw one like himself, he took courage, and laying hold of the white beard, asked, “Who and what are you?”
Then the old man smiled and answered, “Some call me the Lord of Death, because I go about bringing death to the world.”
“Give me death!” pleaded the other, “for I have followed you far, silent as a shadow, and I am aweary.”
But the Lord of Death shook his head, saying, “Not so! I only give to those whose years are full, and you have sixty years of life to come!”
Then the old white-bearded man vanished, but whether he really was the Lord of Death, or a devil, who can tell?
PRINCE LIONHEART and HIS THREE FRIENDS
Punjab
Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen who would have been as happy as the day was long had it not been for this one circumstance,—they had no children.
At last an old fakîr, or devotee, coming to the palace, asked to see the Queen, and giving her some barleycorns, told her to eat them and cease weeping, for in nine months she would have a beautiful little son. The Queen ate the barleycorns, and sure enough after nine months she bore the most charming, lovely, splendid Prince that ever was seen, who was called Lionheart, because he was so brave and strong.
Now when he grew up to man’s estate, Prince Lionheart grew restless also, and was for ever begging his father the King to allow him to travel in the wide world and seek adventures. The King would shake his head, saying only sons were too precious to be turned adrift; but at last, seeing the young Prince could think of nothing else, he gave his consent, and Prince Lionheart set off on his travels, taking no one with him but his three companions, the Knifegrinder, the Blacksmith, and the Carpenter.
Now when these four valiant young men had gone a short distance, they came upon a magnificent city, lying deserted and desolate in the wilderness. Passing through it they saw tall houses, broad bazars, shops still full of goods, everything pointing to a large and wealthy population, but neither in street nor house was a human being to be seen. This astonished them very much, until the Knifegrinder, clapping his hand to his forehead, said, “I remember! This must be the city I have heard about, where a demon lives who will let no one dwell in peace. We had best be off!”
“Not a bit of it!” cried Prince Lionheart. “At any rate not until I’ve had my dinner, for I am just desperately hungry!”
So they went to the shops, and bought all they required, laying the proper price for each thing on the counters just as if the shopkeepers had been there. Then going to the palace, which stood in the middle of the town, Prince Lionheart bade the Knifegrinder prepare the dinner, whilst he and his other companions took a further look at the city.
No sooner had they set off, than the Knifegrinder, going to the kitchen, began to cook the food. It sent up a savoury smell, and the Knifegrinder was just thinking how nice it would taste, when he saw a little figure beside him, clad in armour, with sword and lance, and riding on a gaily-caparisoned mouse.
“Give me my dinner!” cried the mannikin, angrily shaking his lance.
“Your dinner! Come, that is a joke!” quoth the Knifegrinder, laughing.
“Give it me at once!” cried the little warrior in a louder voice, “or I’ll hang you to the nearest pîpal tree!”
“Wah! whipper-snapper!” replied the valiant Knifegrander, “come a little nearer, and let me squash you between finger and thumb!”
At these words the mannikin suddenly shot up into a terribly tall demon, whereupon the Knifegrinder’s courage disappeared, and, falling on his knees, he begged for mercy. But his piteous cries were of no use, for in a trice he was hung to the topmost branch of the pîpal tree.
“I’ll teach ’em to cook in my kitchen!” growled the demon, as he gobbled up all the cakes and savoury stew. When he had finished every morsel he disappeared.
Now the Knifegrinder wriggled so desperately that the pîpal branch broke, and he came crashing through the tree to the ground, without much hurt beyond a great fright and a few bruises. However, he was so dreadfully alarmed, that he rushed into the sleeping-room, and rolling himself up in his quilt, shook from head to foot as if he had the ague.
By-and-by in came Prince Lionheart and his companions, all three as hungry as hunters, crying, “Well, jolly Knifegrinder! where’s the dinner?”
Whereupon he groaned out from under his quilt, “Don’t be angry, for it’s nobody’s fault; only just as it was ready I got a fit of ague, and as I lay shivering and shaking a dog came in and walked off with everything.”
He was afraid that if he told the truth his companions would think him a coward for not fighting the demon.
“What a pity!” cried the Prince, “but we must just cook some more. Here! you Blacksmith! do you prepare the dinner, whilst the Carpenter and I have another look at the city.”
Now, no sooner had the Blacksmith begun to sniff the savoury smell, and think how nice the cakes and stew would taste, than the little warrior appeared to him also. And he was quite as brave at first as the Knifegrinder had been, and afterwards he too fell on his knees and prayed for mercy. In fact everything happened to him as it had happened to the Knifegrinder, and when he fell from the tree he too fled into the sleeping-room, and rolling himself in his quilt began to shiver and shake; so that when Prince Lionheart and the Carpenter came back, hungry as hunters, there was no dinner.
Then the Carpenter stayed behind to cook, but he fared no better than the two others, so that when hungry Prince Lionheart returned there were three sick men, shivering and shaking under their quilts, and no dinner. Whereupon the Prince set to work to cook his food himself.
No sooner had it begun to give off a savoury smell than the tiny mouse-warrior appeared, very fierce and valiant.
“Upon my word you are really a very pretty little fellow!” said the Prince in a patronizing way; “and what may you want?”
“Give me my dinner!” shrieked the mannikin.
“It is not your dinner, my dear sir, it is my dinner!” quoth the Prince; “but to avoid disputes let’s fight it out.”
Upon this the mouse-warrior began to stretch and grow till he became a terribly tall demon. But instead of falling on his knees begging for mercy, the Prince only burst into a fit of laughter, and said, “My good sir! there is a medium in all things! Just now you were ridiculously small, at present you are absurdly big; but, as you seem to be able to alter your size without much trouble, suppose for once in a way you show some spirit, and become just my size, neither less nor more; then we can settle whose dinner it really is.”
The demon could not withstand the Prince’s reasoning, so he shrank to an ordinary size, and setting to work with a will, began to tilt at the Prince in fine style. But valiant Lionheart never yielded an inch, and finally, after a terrific battle, slew the demon with his sharp sword.
Then guessing at the truth he roused his three sick friends, saying with a smile, “O ye valiant ones! arise, for I have killed the ague!”
And they got up sheepishly, and fell to praising their leader for his incomparable valour.
After this, Prince Lionheart sent messages to all the inhabitants of the town who had been driven away by the wicked demon, telling them they could return and dwell in safety, on condition of their taking the Knifegrinder as their king, and giving him their richest and most beautiful maiden as a bride.
This they did with great joy, but when the wedding was over, and Prince Lionheart prepared to set out once more on his adventures, the Knifegrinder threw himself before his master, begging to be allowed to accompany him. Prince Lionheart, however, re
fused the request, bidding him remain to govern his kingdom, and at the same time gave him a barley plant, bidding him tend it very carefully; since so long as it flourished he might be assured his master was alive and well. If, on the contrary, it drooped, then he might know that misfortune was at hand, and set off to help if he chose.
So the Knifegrinder king remained behind with his bride and his barley plant, but Prince Lionheart, the Blacksmith, and the Carpenter set forth on their travels.
By and by they came to another desolate city, lying deserted in the wilderness, and as before they wandered through it, wondering at the tall palaces, the empty streets, and the vacant shops where never a human being was to be seen, until the Blacksmith, suddenly recollecting, said, “I remember now! This must be the city where the awful ghost lives which kills every one. We had best be off!”
“After we have had our dinners!” quoth hungry Lionheart.
So having bought all they required from a vacant shop, putting the proper price of everything on the counter, since there was no shopkeeper, they repaired to the palace, where the Blacksmith was installed as cook, whilst the others looked through the town.
No sooner had the dinner begun to give off an appetising smell than the ghost appeared, in the form of an old woman, awful and forbidding, with black wrinkled skin, and feet turned backwards.
At this sight the valiant Blacksmith never stopped to parley, but fled into another room and bolted the door. Whereupon the ghost ate up the dinner in no time, and disappeared; so when Prince Lionheart and the Carpenter returned, as hungry as hunters, there was no dinner to be found, and no Blacksmith.
Then the Prince bade the Carpenter do the cooking while he went abroad to see the town. But the Carpenter fared no better, for the ghost appeared to him also, so that he fled and locked himself up in another room.
“This is really too bad!” quoth Prince Lionheart, when he returned to find no dinner, no Blacksmith, no Carpenter. Then he began to cook the food himself, and no sooner had it given out a savoury smell than the ghost arrived; this time, however, seeing so handsome a young man before her she would not assume her own hag-like shape, but appeared instead as a beautiful young woman.
However, the Prince was not in the least bit deceived, for he looked down at her feet, and when he saw they were set on hind side before, he knew at once what she was; so drawing his sharp strong sword, he said, “I must trouble you to take your own shape again, as I don’t like killing beautiful young women!”
At this the ghost shrieked with rage, and changed into her own loathsome form once more; but at the same moment Prince Lionheart gave one stroke of his sword, and the horrible, awful thing lay dead at his feet.
Then the Blacksmith and the Carpenter crept out of their hiding-places, and the Prince sent messages to all the townsfolk, bidding them come back and dwell in peace, on condition of their making the Blacksmith king, and giving him to wife the prettiest, the richest, and the best-born maiden in the city.
To this they consented with one accord, and after the wedding was over, Prince Lionheart and the Carpenter set forth once more on their travels. The Blacksmith king was loath to let them go without him, but his master gave him also a barley plant, saying, “Water and tend it carefully; for so long as it flourishes you may rest assured I am well and happy; but if it droops, know that I am in trouble, and come to help me.”
Prince Lionheart and the Carpenter had not journeyed far ere they came to a big town, where they halted to rest; and as luck would have it the Carpenter fell in love with the fairest maiden in the city, who was as beautiful as the moon and all the stars. He began to sigh and grumble over the good fortune of the Knifegrinder and the Blacksmith, and wish that he too could find a kingdom and a lovely bride, until his master took pity on him, and sending for the chief inhabitants, told them who he was, and ordered them to make the Carpenter king, and marry him to the maiden of his choice.
This order they obeyed, for Prince Lionheart’s fame had been noised abroad, and they feared his displeasure; so when the marriage was over, and the Carpenter duly established as king, Prince Lionheart went forth on his journey alone, after giving a barley plant, as he had done before, by which his prosperity or misfortune might be known.
Having journeyed for a long time, he came at last to a river, and as he sat resting on the bank, what was his astonishment to see a ruby of enormous size floating down the stream! Then another, and another drifted past him, each of huge size and glowing hue! Wonderstruck, he determined to find out whence they came. So he travelled up stream for two days and two nights, watching the rubies sweep by in the current, until he came to a beautiful marble palace built close to the water’s edge. Gay gardens surrounded it, marble steps led down to the river, where, on a magnificent tree which stretched its branches over the stream, hung a golden basket. Now if Prince Lionheart had been wonderstruck before, what was his astonishment when he saw that the basket contained the head of the most lovely, the most beautiful, the most perfect young Princess that ever was seen! The eyes were closed, the golden hair fluttered in the breeze, and every minute from the slender throat a drop of crimson blood fell into the water, and changing into a ruby, drifted down the stream!
Prince Lionheart was overcome with pity at this heartrending sight; tears rose to his eyes, and he determined to search through the palace for some explanation of the beautiful mysterious head.
So he wandered through richly-decorated marble halls, through carved galleries and spacious corridors, without seeing a living creature, until he came to a sleeping-room hung with silver tissue, and there, on a white satin bed, lay the headless body of a young and beautiful girl! One glance convinced him that it belonged to the exquisite head he had seen swinging in the golden basket by the river side, and, urged by the desire to see the two lovely portions united he set off swiftly to the tree, soon returning with the basket in his hand. He placed the head gently on the severed throat, when, lo and behold! they joined together in a trice and the beautiful maiden started up to life once more. The Prince was overjoyed, and, falling on his knees, begged the lovely girl to tell him who she was, and how she came to be alone in the mysterious palace. She informed him that she was a king’s daughter, with whom a wicked Jinn had fallen in love, in consequence of which passion he had carried her off by his magical arts: and being desperately jealous, never left her without first cutting off her head, and hanging it up in the golden basket until his return.
Prince Lionheart, hearing this cruel story, besought the beautiful Princess to fly with him without delay, but she assured him they must first kill the Jinn, or they would never succeed in making their escape. So she promised to coax the Jinn into telling her the secret of his life, and in the meantime bade the Prince cut off her head once more, and replace it in the golden basket, so that her cruel gaoler might not suspect anything.
The poor Prince could hardly bring himself to perform so dreadful a task, but seeing it was absolutely necessary, he shut his eyes from the heartrending sight, and with one blow of his sharp bright sword cut off his dear Princess’s head, and after returning the golden basket to its place, hid himself in a closet hard by the sleeping-room.
By-and-by the Jinn arrived, and, putting on the Princess’s head once more, cried angrily, “Fee! fa! fum! This room smells of man’s flesh!”
Then the Princess pretended to weep, saying, “Do not be angry with me, good Jinn, for how can I know aught? Am I not dead whilst you are away? Eat me if you like, but do not be angry with me!”
Whereupon the Jinn, who loved her to distraction, swore he would rather die himself than kill her.
“That would be worse for me!” answered the girl, “for if you were to die while you are away from here, it would be very awkward for me: I should be neither dead nor alive.”
“Don’t distress yourself!” returned the Jinn; “I am not likely to be killed, for my life lies in something very safe.”
“I hope so, I am sure!” replied the Princes
s, “but I believe you only say that to comfort me. I shall never be content until you tell me where it lies, then I can judge for myself if it is safe.”
At first the Jinn refused, but the Princess coaxed and wheedled so prettily, and he began to get so very sleepy, that at last he replied, “I shall never be killed except by a Prince called Lionheart; nor by him unless he can find the solitary tree, where a dog and a horse keep sentinel day and night. Even then he must pass these warders unhurt, climb the tree, kill the starling which sits singing in a golden cage on the topmost branch, tear open its crop, and destroy the bumble bee it contains. So I am safe; for it would need a lion’s heart, or great wisdom, to reach the tree and overcome its guardians.”
“How are they to be overcome?” pleaded the Princess; “tell me that, and I shall be satisfied.”
The Jinn, who was more than half asleep, and quite tired of being cross-questioned, answered drowsily, “In front of the horse lies a heap of bones, and in front of the dog a heap of grass. Whoever takes a long stick and changes the heaps, so that the horse has grass, and the dog bones, will have no difficulty in passing.”
The Prince, overhearing this, set off at once to find the solitary tree, and ere long discovered it, with a savage horse and furious dog keeping watch and ward over it. They, however, became quite mild and meek when they received their proper food, and the Prince without any difficulty climbed the tree, seized the starling, and began to twist its neck. At this moment the Jinn, awakening from sleep, became aware of what was passing, and flew through the air to do battle for his life. The Prince, however, seeing him approach, hastily cut open the bird’s crop, seized the bumble bee, and just as the Jinn was alighting on the tree, tore off the insect’s wings. The Jinn instantly fell to the ground with a crash, but, determined to kill his enemy, began to climb. Then the Prince twisted off the bee’s legs, and lo! the Jinn became legless also; and when the bee’s head was torn off, the Jinn’s life went out entirely.
