And with each touch and invocation the knots began to disappear one after the other.

But his wife began to regret the loss of half their wealth, and she determined on a scheme to save it, and yet that her husband should be cured. "If," said she, "I stop him before he has undone the last knot he cannot claim the reward, because he will not have removed all the knots, and it will be a strange matter if I find not the means of obtaining the hammer long enough to remedy one knot myself." As she reasoned thus he had loosed the eighth knot.

"Stop!" she cried. "That will do now. For one knot we will not make much ado. He can bear as much disfigurement as that."

Then the elder brother was grieved because they had broken the contract, and went his way carrying the sack, and with the hammer stuck in his girdle. As he went, the younger brother's wife went stealthily behind him, and when he had just reached his own door, she sprang upon him, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the hammer from out his girdle. He turned to follow her, but she had already reached her own house before he came up with her, and entering closed the door against him: then in triumph over her success, she proceeded to attempt loosing the ninth knot. Only swinging it as she had seen her brother-in-law do, and not knowing how to temper the force so that it should only just have touched the nose, the blow carried with it so much moment that the hammer went through the man's skull, even to his brain, so that he fell down and died.

By this means, not the half, but the whole of his possessions pa.s.sed to his elder brother.

"If the man was avaricious, the woman was doubly avaricious," here exclaimed the Khan, "and by straining to grasp too much, she lost all."

"Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan hath opened his lips," cried the Siddhi-kur. And with the cry, "To escape out of this world is good," he sped him through the air once again, swift out of sight.

TALE XV.

When therefore the Well-and-wise-walking Khan found that he had once more failed in the end and object of his mission, he once more took the way of the shady grove, and once more in the same fashion as before he took the Siddhi-kur captive in his sack. As he bore him along weary with the journey through the desert country, the Siddhi-kur asked if he would not tell a tale to enliven the way, and when he steadfastly held his tongue, the Siddhi-kur bid him, if he would that he should tell one, but give a token of nodding his head backwards, without opening his lips.

Then he nodded his head backwards, and the Siddhi-kur told this tale, saying,--

THE USE OF MAGIC LANGUAGE.

Long ages ago there lived in Western India a King who had a very clever son. In order to make the best advantage of his understanding, and to fit him in every way to become an accomplished sovereign, the King sent him into the Diamond-kingdom (1), that he might be thoroughly instructed in all kinds of knowledge. He was accompanied in his journey by the son of the king's chief minister, who was also to share his studies, but who was as dull as he was intelligent. On their arrival in the Diamond-kingdom, they gave each of them the sum with which they had been provided by their parents to two Lamas to conduct their education, and spent twelve years with them.

At the end of the twelve years the minister's son proposed to the king's son that they should now return home, and as the Lamas allowed that the king's son had made such progress in the five kinds of knowledge that there was nothing more he could learn, he agreed to the proposal, and they set out on their homeward way.

All went well at first; but one day pa.s.sed, and then another, and yet another, that they came to no source of water, and being parched nigh unto death with thirst, the minister's son would have laid him down to die. As he stood hesitating about going on, a crow pa.s.sed and made his cry of "ikerek." The prince now encouraged his companion, saying, "Come but a little way farther, and we shall find water."

"Nay, you deceive me not like an infant of days," answered the minister's son. "How shall we find water? Have we not laboured over the journey these three days, and found none; neither shall we find it now? Why should we add to this death of thirst the pangs of useless fatigue also?"

But the king's son said again, "Nay, but of a certainty we shall now find it."

And when he asked, "How knowest thou this of a certainty?" he replied, "I heard yon crow cry as he pa.s.sed, 'Go forward five hundred paces in a southerly direction, and you will come to a source of pure, bright fresh water.'"

The king's son spoke with so much certainty that he had not strength to resist him; and so they went on five hundred paces farther in a southerly direction, and then they indeed came upon a pure, bright spring of water, where they sat down, and drank, and refreshed themselves.

As they sat there, the minister's son was moved with jealousy, for, thought he within himself, in every art this prince has exceeded me, and when we return to our own country, all shall see how superior he is to me in every kind of attainment. Then he said aloud to the king's son,--

"If we keep along this road, which leads over the level plain, where we can be seen ever so far off, may be robbers will see us, and, coming upon us, will slay us. Shall we not rather take the path which leads over the mountain, where the trees will hide us, and pa.s.s the night under cover of the wood?" And this he said in order to lead the prince into the forest, that he might slay him there unperceived. But the prince, who had no evil suspicion, willingly agreed to his words, and they took the path of the mountain. When they had well entered the thick wood, the minister's son fell upon the prince from behind, and slew him. The prince in dying said nothing but the one word, "Abaraschika (2)."

As soon as he had well hidden the body, the minister's son continued on his way.

As he came near the city, the King went out to greet him, accompanied by all his ministers, and followed by much people; but when he found that his son was not there, he fell into great anxiety, and eagerly inquired after him. "Thy son," answered the minister's son, "died on the journey."

At these words, the King burst into an agony of grief, crying, "Alas, my son! mine only son! Without thee, what shall all my royal power and state, what shall all my hundred cities, profit me?" Amid these bitter cries he made his way back to the palace. As he dwelt on his grief, the thought came to him, "Shall not my son when dying at least have left some word expressive of his last thoughts and wishes?" Then he sent and inquired this thing of his companion, to which, the minister's son made answer, "Thy son was overtaken with a quick and sudden malady, and as he breathed out his life, he had only time to utter the single word, Abaraschika."

Hearing this the King was fully persuaded the word must have some deep and hidden meaning; but as he was unable to think it out, he summoned all the seers, soothsayers, magicians, and astrologers (3) of his kingdom, and inquired of them what this same word Abaraschika could mean. There was not, however, one of them all that could help him to the meaning. Then said the King, "The last word that my son uttered, even mine only son, this is dear to me. There is no doubt that it is a word in which by all the arts that he had studied and acquired he knew how to express much, though he had not time to utter many words. Ye, therefore, who are also learned in cunning arts ought to be able to tell the interpretation of the same, but if not, then of what use are ye? It were better that ye were dead from off the face of the earth. Wherefore, I give you the s.p.a.ce of seven days to search in all your writings and to exercise all your arts, and if at the end of seven days ye are none of you able to tell me the interpretation, then shall I deliver you over to death."

With that he commanded that they should be all secured in an exceeding high fortress for the s.p.a.ce of seven days, and well watched that they might not escape.

The seven days pa.s.sed away, and not one of them was at all nearer telling the interpretation of Abaraschika than on the first day. "Of a certainty we shall all be put to death to-morrow," was repeated all through the place, and some cried to the devas and some sat still and wept, speaking only of the relations and friends they would leave behind.

Meantime, a student of an inferior sort, who waited on the others and learned between whiles, had contrived to escape, not being under such strict guard as his more important brethren. At night-time he took shelter under a leafy tree. As he lay there a bird and its young ones came to roost on the boughs above him. One of the young ones instead of going to sleep went on complaining through the night, "I'm so hungry! I'm so hungry!" At last the old bird began to console it, saying, "Cry not, my son; for to-morrow there will be plenty of food."

"And why should there be more food to-morrow than to-day?" asked the young bird.

"Because to-morrow," answered the mother, "the Khan has made preparations to put a thousand men to death. That will be a feast indeed!"

"And why should he put so many men to death?" persisted the young bird.

"Because," interposed the father, "though they are all wise men, not one of them can tell him such a simple thing as the meaning of the word Abaraschika."

"What does it mean, then?" inquired the young bird.

"The meaning of the word is this: 'This, my bosom friend, hath enticed me into a thick grove, and there, wounding me with a sharp knife, hath taken away my life, and is even now preparing to cut off my head.'" This the old bird told to his young.

The young student, however, hearing these words waited to hear no more, but set off at his best speed towards the tower where all his companions were confined. About daybreak he reached the gates, and made his way in all haste in to them. In the midst of their weeping and lamenting over the morning which they reckoned that of their day of death, he cried out,--

"Weep no more! I have discovered the meaning of the word."

Just then the Khan's guard came to conduct them to the Khan for examination preparatory to their being given over to execution. Here the young student declared to the Khan the meaning of the word Abaraschika. Having heard which the Khan dismissed them all with rich presents, but privately bid them declare to no man the meaning of the word. Then he sent for the minister's son, and without giving him any hint of his intention, bid him go before him and show him where lay the bones of his son, which when he had seen and built a tomb over them, he ordered the minister and his son both to be put to death.

"That Khan's son, so well versed in the five kinds of knowledge, would have been an honour and ornament to his kingdom, had he not been thus untimely cut off," exclaimed the Khan.

And as he let these words escape him, the Siddhi-kur replied, "Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan hath opened his lips." And with the cry, "To escape out of this world is good!" he sped him through the air, swift out of sight.

TALE XVI.

When therefore the Well-and-wise-walking Khan saw that he had again failed in the end and object of his journey, he once more took the way of the cool grove; and having taken the Siddhi-kur captive as before in his bag, in which there was place for a hundred, and made fast the mouth of the same with his cord woven of a hundred threads of different colours, he bore him along to present to his Master and Teacher Nagarg'una.

And as they went the Siddhi-kur asked him to beguile the way with a tale, or else give the signal that he should tell one. And when the Well-and-wise-walking Khan had given the signal that the Siddhi-kur should tell one, he began after this wise, saying,--