Sagas from the Far East; or, Kalmouk and Mongolian Traditionary Tales. Various

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      And he made answer: “Of a truth there would be one way, but it is difficult and terrible, and it is not given to woman to endure so much fear and pain.”

      But she replied, “If there were but any means to have thee back, always by my side, I would find strength to endure any terror or pain, even to the tearing out of the bones from the midst of my flesh.”

      “This is the means that must be taken then,” said the Khan: “Next month, on the fifteenth of the month, thou must rise when the moon’s light is at the full, and go forth abroad a mile’s distance towards the regions of the South. There shalt thou meet with an ancient man of iron, standing on the watch, who, when he shall have drank much molten metal, shall yet cry, ‘Yet am I thirsty.’ To him give rice-brandy and pass on. Farther on thou shalt find two he-goats fighting together mightily, to them give barm-cakes to eat and pass on. Farther along thou shalt find a band of armed men who shall bar thy way; to them distribute meat and pass on. Farther on thou shalt come to a frightful massive black building round which runs a moat filled with human blood, and from its portal waves a man’s skin for a banner. At its door stand on guard two terrible erliks3, servants of Erlik Khan4; to each, offer an offering of blood and pass within the building.

      “In the very midst of the building thou shalt find a Mandala5 formed by eight awful sorcerers, and at the feet of each will lie a heart which will cry to thee, ‘Take me! take me!’ In the midst of all will be a ninth heart which must cry ‘Take me not!’

      “If thou fortified by thy love shall be neither rendered afraid by the aspect of the place, nor terrified by the might of the sorcerers, nor confounded by the wailing of the voices, but shalt take up and bear away that ninth heart, neither looking backwards nor tarrying by the way, then shall it be granted us to live for evermore on earth together.”

      Thus he spoke; and the morning light breaking, she saw him no more. The wife, however, laid up all his words in her heart; and on the fifteenth of the next month, when the moon shone, she went forth all alone without seeking help or counsel from any one, content to rely on her husband’s words. Nor letting her heart be cast down by fear or pain, she distributed to each of those she met by the way the portion he had appointed. At last she reached the Mandala of sorcerers, and, regardless of the conflicting cries by which she was assailed, boldly carried off the ninth heart, though it said, “Take me not!” No sooner had she turned back with her prize than the eight sorcerers ran calling after her, “A thief has been in here, and has stolen the heart! Guards! Up, and seize her!” But the Erliks before the door answered, “Us she propitiated with a blood-offering; we arrest her not. See you to it.” So the word was passed on to the company of armed men who had barred her passage; but they answered, “Us hath she propitiated with a meat-offering; we arrest her not. See you to it.” Then the word was passed on to the two he-goats. But the he-goats answered, “Us hath she propitiated with a barm-cake-offering; we arrest her not. See you to it.” Finally, the word was passed on to the ancient man of iron; but he answered, “Me hath she propitiated with a brandy-offering; I arrest her not.”

      Thus with fearless tread she continued all the way to the palace. On opening the door of his apartment, the Khan himself came forward to meet her in his beauty and might, and in tenfold glory, never to go away from her again any more, and they fell into each other’s arms in a loving embrace.

      “Scarcely could a man have held out as bravely as did this woman!” exclaimed the Khan.

      And as he uttered these words, the Siddhî-kür 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.

      Of the Adventures of the Well-and-wise-walking Khan the first chapter, concerning the Woman who brought back her Husband from the palace of Erlik-Khan.

Tale II.

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      When the Well-and-wise-walking Khan found that he had missed the end and object of his journey, he forthwith set out again, without loss of time, or so much as returning to his Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una, but taking only a meal of his cake which never diminished; thus, with similar toils and fears as the first time, he came again at last to the cool grove where lay the child-dead, and among them the Siddhî-kür. And the Siddhî-kür rose up before him, and clambered up the mango-tree. And when the Well-and-wise-walking Khan had summoned him with proud sounding words to come down, threatening that otherwise he would hew down the tree with his axe “White Moon,” the Siddhî-kür came down, rather than that he should destroy the mango-tree. Then he bound him again in his bag of many colours, in which was place to stow away an hundred, and bound the mouth thereof with the cord woven of an hundred threads of different tints, and bore him along to offer to his Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una.

      But at the end of many days’ journey, the Siddhî-kür said—

      “Now, in truth, is the length of this journey like to weary us even to death, as we go along thus without speaking. Wherefore, O Prince! let me entreat thee beguile the way by telling a tale.”

      But the Well-and-wise-walking Khan, remembering the words of his Master and Teacher Nâgârg′una, which he spoke, saying, “See thou open not thy lips to speak by the way,” remained silent, and answered him never a word. Then the Siddhî-kür, when he found that he could not be brought to answer him, spake again in this wise: “If thou wilt not tell a tale, then, at least, give some token by which I may know if thou willest that I should tell one, and if thou speak not, at least nod thine head backwards towards me; then will I tell a tale.”

      So the Well-and-wise-walking Khan nodded his head backwards towards the Siddhî-kür, and the Siddhî-kür told this tale, saying—

      The Gold-spitting Prince.

      Long ages ago there was a far-off country where a mighty Khan ruled. Near the source of the chief river of this country was a pool, where lived two Serpent-gods1, who had command of the water; and as they could shut off the water of the river when they pleased, and prevent it from overflowing and fertilizing the country, the people were obliged to obey their behest, be it what it might. Now, the tribute they exacted of the country was that of a full grown man, to be chosen by lot, every year; and on whoso the lot fell, he had to go, without redemption, whatever his condition in life. Thus it happened one year that the lot fell on the Khan himself. In all the kingdom there was no one of equal rank who could be received instead of him, unless it had been his only son. When his son would have gone in his stead, he answered him, “What is it to me if the Serpents devour me, so that thou, my son, reignest in peace?” But the son said, “Never shall it be that thou, my Khan and father, shouldst suffer this cruel death, while I remain at home. The thought be far from me. Neither will the land receive harm by my death; is not my mother yet alive? and other sons may be born to thee, who shall reign over the land.” So he went to offer himself as food to the Serpent-gods.

      As he went along, the people followed him for a long stretch of the way, bewailing him; and then they turned them back. But one there was who turned not back: it was a poor man’s son whom the Prince had all his life had for his friend; he continued following him. Then the Prince turned and said to him, “Walk thou according to the counsels of thy father and thy mother, and be prosperous and happy on the earth. To defend this noble, princely country, and to fulfil the royal word of the Khan, my father, I go forth to be food СКАЧАТЬ