Myths and Legends from Around the World

by Robin Brockman

  “I know it seems so to you, father,” Miao Shan told him. “But the wealth and glory of this world is only an illusion. It is without permanence and true substance. Why should I pursue such things? You do not share this belief, but please let me go to be a nun and escape the ways of a world I do not fit into. I apologize, father, but no matter what you do or force upon me, I will never think or act differently and,” she added with absolute determination, “I will never, ever marry.”

  “Never marry,” cried the outraged king, while beside him his wife nearly swooned. “Never marry!”

  “No father, not even to some kind and brilliant doctor who lives to heal the sick and aid the poor, though a weak part of me might like such a union. No, it is my resolve to become a nun and dedicate my life to the Buddha.”

  “Never marry,” the king said, his tone now scornful. “We shall see about that, my girl. Now get out of my sight. You will regret defying me.”

  Miao Shan went away, followed quickly by her mother, who pleaded with her to change her mind and not so anger and displease her father. No one in the world knew better than she how he might react. Usually, of course, no one agreed more with his methods than did his queen. But danger to a daughter was another matter. Besides, dead girls brought no vital third son-in-law into the kingdom.

  At last Miao Shan was persuaded to return to her father's presence, at a time of his choosing, of course. It had been necessary to talk him into another meeting, so perturbed was he with his youngest daughter.

  When Miao Shan was once more summoned before the king, it was in front of the entire court. Her mother felt that she was less likely to defy her father there, and might be intimidated by so many witnesses to any of her wilfulness. Let the pious child show publicly whether or not she would obey her parents.

  So it was that Miao Shan appeared like a supplicant at the feet of her sovereign, dressed, as was her custom, in very simple clothes, the pyjama-like trousers and lightly quilted jacket of a peasant. All around her stood nobles and courtiers in fine silk robes, jewels and carefully arranged hair styles. None were more ornately or expensively dressed than her sisters, brothers-in-law and parents. They also sported the long nails associated with the mandarins of a later era, denoting the use of servants for even the most intimate of the functions of life.

  “Have you reconsidered, child?” her father intoned, speaking now more as a king than a father to the young princess bowing to him. “Will you marry as your parents bid?”

  “Yes,” Miao Shan said without hesitation. The shock of the seeming ease with which she said the word fluttered around the assembly. “I will do as you bid, you who have long taught me to serve my family and myself first, if you can promise an end to three ills which we all face. That is to say, ills the world, ourselves and our family must endure.”

  The mistake had been to give Miao Shan a bigger audience, her mother thought at once. The foolish girl could not help but preach and try to sway people's souls to her path. The queen cursed herself.

  “What ills are these?” the king huffed, taken aback and curious in spite of himself.

  “I will gladly marry, as you wish, if you can guarantee that it will end for the world, or even just for me, the ravages of time. If you can stop the onset of grey hair, a withering, weakening, less energetic body, poor eyesight and hearing and the pains and cares of old age.”

  “And the second,” her father rolled his eyes, slowly getting the drift of what she was saying.

  “If you will promise, and keep the promise that even while young, one's body will stay hale and whole, that no evil will ever befall it. Assure me that no illness awaits, no accident, no pestilence or war or storm or foolishness will do anyone harm.”

  “The third?” the king asked darkly, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Tell me truly that death will not overtake loved ones, that it need never be feared for one's self. Say that the sadness of loss and the darkness of uncertainty are eliminated. If these things can be in this world, if by my marrying I can make it so, then I will marry and embrace this existence and do your bidding always.”

  “And if I cannot promise you these things?” The king's mood changed yet again as he pondered her words. How could you take such nonsense seriously? The girl was a ninny. Perhaps he had spoiled her by not making her enjoy material luxury. Yes, this is where indulging her in silly notions like simple dress and food had led. But why should he blame himself when the nurses and ladies-in-waiting should have done a better job?

  “If these things cannot be, father, if my marriage cannot bring them to myself or this world, then let me seek a world in which they are possible. Let me become a nun and devote my life to service and contemplation, to attaining enlightenment and reaching Nirvana.”

  “Oh,” the king groaned and cast his eye around the court. “Go be a nun then,” he laughed, partly to hide his uncertainty. With his look he invited all to join him. The uproar of laughter was tremendous but ended abruptly when he spoke again a few moments later.

  “See how you like it, my girl. See how you like a life of sacrifice and manual toil. You need to grow up a little. I recall that you were always more backward at each stage of life than your sisters. Go and get this religious rubbish out of your system for good. Soon enough you will beg to come home and then we will find you a patient, or perhaps rather masterful, husband to take you in hand.”

  Once more he allowed the court to join him in laughter and Miao Shan was led away by attendants to pack for her journey. Through one pretext or another her departure was delayed. The poor girl assumed this was because her parents hoped she might have second thoughts and would not go at all. However, it was for a different reason.

  “Go to the head nun,” the king commanded one of his officers. “Take your whole troop and intimidate her, let the men leer at the nuns and make it clear that I will be very displeased if she does not do as I order.”

  “Yes, sire,” the officer saluted.

  “The nunnery must be a hell for Miao Shan not a sanctuary. She must be put to all the most arduous and unpleasant tasks. No one must show her kindness or encouragement. In every way she must be made unwelcome and convinced that she should come back to where she belongs.”

  “I will see that this is fully understood, sire,” the officer bowed low and backed away from the king's presence, setting off at once with his mounted warriors. The little Nunnery of the White Bird was in for a terrible shock.

  Fearing the power and wrath of a king of such deservedly violent repute, the mother superior of the nunnery was duly cowed. Convinced, for everyone's safety, that it was wisest to do just as she was commanded, she summoned the other nuns. Speaking forcefully, still unnerved, as they all were by the visit of the soldiers, she made it clear to everyone that they must cooperate in the plan to drive Miao Shan back to the court, or risk not only her displeasure but the king's fury.

  When Miao Shan arrived she was a little taken aback by her reception. Expecting to find devout like-minded sisters who would assist her along the path, she met only with hostility, resentment and rejection. She also found herself in the kitchen working like a slave to prepare meals and clean the place endlessly. To cap it all, any dirty jobs that needed to be done elsewhere were her final tasks before she crawled onto her sleeping mat for the brief repose she was allowed.

  Through it all she never complained, even when she realized it was not simply an initiation or weeding out process. She even found time to help others with their work. It was soon observed that the dreadful chores she had to perform had never been done so well, never so thoroughly. The meals were better, too, and soon she became renowned for the salads she prepared.

  After seeing her suffering and sacrifice, Heaven itself sent her assistance in her various duties. A dragon helped her dig a well, tigers fetched her firewood and birds brought her fruits and vegetables, while the Spirit of the North Star gave her aid in her kitchen work.

  Moved by her devotion and serv
ice, inspired by her contacts with the divine, most of the nuns began to love Miao Shan and only a few spiteful ones, who resented her beauty, title and supposedly advantageous background, still treated her badly. Word of all that was happening at the Nunnery of the White Bird was brought to the king's ear and he was maddened with rage.

  One night a carefully selected troop of soldiers arrived at the nunnery, surrounded it and set it on fire. Each man had been chosen for his cruelty, ruthlessness, ambition and willingness to follow the most horrible commands to get ahead and gain financial reward. None of them would baulk at their present assignment.

  “Cut down anyone else who leaves the building,” the leader shouted to remind his men. “But bring me the princess Miao Shan alive.”

  Terror gripped the nuns as the flames and smoke engulfed the nunnery, and chaos reigned. Everywhere the nuns ran screaming and some tried to escape only to be slaughtered by the waiting soldiers. The ones who had never accepted Miao Shan now began to curse her and insist that this would never have happened if she had stuck to her proper station in life.

  Hearing this and seeing the fear in the faces of all the nuns, Miao Shan knelt down to pray.

  “The Buddha was a prince when he sought enlightenment,” she pleaded. “Surely it was not wrong of me to do so. Please send us help and please spare these good sisters.”

  Miao Shan's plea was quickly answered. Guided by some unknown divinity, she took a bamboo pin from her hair and pierced the roof of her mouth with it. Next she spat blood in the four directions – north, south, east and west. The blood spray formed a mist that became great dark rain clouds, and as she prayed once more rain began to fall, at first lightly and then quickening in intensity until it became a violent deluge.

  Even so big a fire as the one consuming the nunnery could not survive such torrential rain and soon the flames and embers were extinguished. Then Miao Shan surrendered. Somehow, in the excitement and relief of taking her alive, the army commander forgot to have all the other nuns put to the sword. In reality of course, he had been made to forget as part of the answer to Miao Shan's prayer.

  The last mile of the way home for Miao Shan was bestrewn with all the comforts she was supposed to have missed while at the nunnery. Music played, delicious foods were cooking, and lovely garments were on display. At the palace more luxury than ever was on show as she was led before her father. None of the sumptuous earthly delights turned Miao Shan's head for an instant, nor did the array of young princes backing her father's throne as he stared at her grim faced.

  “Any of these men will I let you choose if you agree to marry at once and forget forever the stupid idea of becoming a nun,” he said flatly. “And make no mistake, I command you to marry on pain of death.”

  “Is it not a crime,” her mother put in quickly, “and a sin for a child to disobey her father?”

  Miao Shan nodded solemnly.

  “Then you must do what is right, mustn't you?”

  “Yes,” Miao Shan admitted. “I must.”

  “Then you will obey your father and marry,” her mother said delightedly. Why had they not used this tack long before?

  “Please forgive me for disobeying you, but I must bow to an even higher authority.”

  “What authority is that?” the king demanded.

  “The highest possible,” Miao Shan said. “Let me return to the nunnery and follow my vocation. Let me work towards spiritual perfection and enlightenment. Then, my parents and sisters, I can serve you all so much better. I can help you to that which is real and truly valuable and lasting.”

  “Silence,” the king bellowed. He had had enough. He felt certain that the world was laughing at him. He feared that whispers were already abroad that he was weak, soft and sentimental, unable even to command his own daughter. The danger was far too great. The two sons-in-law might already be plotting. Now he had the perfect opportunity to quash all that, to demonstrate his determination to be obeyed by all in this land, or ruthlessly eliminate anyone who would not do his will. Let it be a lesson to the kingdom. Let the neighbouring countries take note.

  “You must die.” The king said simply. Turning to the guard commander, he nodded, and Miao Shan was dragged away.

  Without delay, though with ample time for a curious and horrified crowd to gather, Miao Shan was taken to the usual place of execution. Here her head was placed on the block and as ordered, wasting no time, the headsman struck. There, however, before the king and the people, the blade of the axe shattered. Infuriated further by this, the king ordered that other weapons be used, so the spears and swords of the soldiers around about were used, but all of them broke too.

  So enraged was the king by now, so blind to the portents of divine favour, that he howled at the executioner.

  “Strangle her with a silk cord, you fool, or I will disembowel you, after feeding you your roasted children and giving your wife to the soldiery.”

  Hastily the executioner found a silken cord and pulled it tight around Miao Shan's neck. Though she did not struggle, it seemed to take an age for the girl to expire. When at last she was dead and plainly so, the executioner let go of the cord and her limp body fell to the ground.

  A great hush fell over the crowd, the king's party and the guards. The executioner wept silently as a strange stillness settled over the palace and the city. Suddenly it was broken by a huge collective gasp. An instant later there was much confused scrambling and a rapid parting of the crowd of common people in the square around the place of execution. A massive tiger had bounded in amongst them but, attacking no one, it made straight for the body of Miao Shan. Picking it up in its enormous mouth, it ran away like a house cat with a small bird. Dumbfounded, everyone stood staring, unable to move.

  While her body was being taken to a forest and put gently down upon a bed of moss, Miao Shan herself awoke in the first level of Buddhist hell. Perhaps she went there because she was feeling so unfulfilled, having failed to do any great works or to find enlightenment, or perhaps she was there because she had not been able to keep anger out of her heart at the moment of death.

  Disconcerted by the dull, lifeless silence of the dark place, she was just wondering what to do next when a young man, dressed in robes of luminescent blue, appeared and smiled curiously at her.

  “Surely your coming here is some mistake,” he told her. “But before you go, those in charge in this region would dearly like to see you. Your reputation for goodness is second to none and your eloquent prayers are very well spoken of at every level of existence. We who work down here see so few good souls, I am afraid, so please come with me.”

  Miao Shan was taken before the judges of the hells and they asked if they might hear her pray.

  “Only if the souls suffering on all the levels of hell are allowed to hear me, too,” said Miao Shan. “I would very much like to help them as much as I can.”

  “I don't see why not,” the chief among the judges said.

  So it was that all the souls in all the hells heard Miao Shan pray and they were much moved, for evil could not exist when she was near. Indeed she was all for releasing the suffering souls then and there, having them forgiven and helping them forgive themselves, when the judges intervened.

  “No, Miao Shan, that cannot be. How could the hells continue thus? They must be places of punishment and justice, where lessons are learned, as on earth. Forgiveness without understanding is not what is needed. What does it teach about cause and effect?”

  Finding that her presence disrupted their routine far too much to let her linger and with still much to learn for her own enlightenment, Miao Shan was returned, alive, to her earthly body. At last she was free to perfect herself, to pursue enlightenment, to become a Buddhasattva.

  Walking among the mountain on Hsiang Shan, as an aid to contemplation, she was startled to see a handsome fellow staring at her and even more astonished to realize that he was the Ju Lai Buddha.

  “How did you come to be in this place?” he asked,
looking at the vista before them and the peaks on either side, but meaning far more than that.

  “I was born a princess but my father would have me marry when all I desired was to do good, become a nun and seek enlightenment.” She then told him what had happened afterwards.

  “I am alone now and left to learn and serve as best I can.”

  “I too am alone,” the Ju Lai Buddha said. “Perhaps we ought to get married and live in a wonderful little house together. We could raise a family and grow old in great harmony and bliss among our grandchildren, comfortable and happy.”

  “How can you say that? Marry, have a house? Children? How could we ever find the right path in that way? You know we would become earth-bound by such things, such actions, such connections. We would be …”

  “Ah, Miao Shan I was only testing you,” the Buddha laughed. “Your devotion is unshakeable. I want you to come to a place that has been prepared for you, where you can work to further perfect yourself. It is on the island of Pu To Shan. The Monastery of the Immortals.”

  Miao Shan agreed and went there for nine years after which time Heaven itself praised her wisdom and character.

  She was given two disciples who would remain with her always. During this time, however, her father and mother had held on to power in their stolen kingdom. They continued to amass power, prestige and possessions. Their other two daughters continued to value nothing more than the pleasures of a pampered life, while the two brothers-in-law eyed one another suspiciously and awaited events.

  Perhaps as a punishment even while in the flesh, the king began to suffer a strange illness. Weakened and depressed, his skin covered in running sores, he lay in agony for many months. His daughters found the sight of him disgusting, and it was all his wife could do to be in the same room with him. Ill as he was, however, and obviously at death's door, he lingered, seemingly unable to die.

  All the doctors in the land came to treat him and all failed, often inflicting much pain and doing more harm than good. Then one day a mendicant monk arrived apparently from very far away, and he too examined the king.