Wonder Tales from Many Lands 10

Wonder Tales from Many Lands 10

At once Boots stood before her. “Now,” said he, “I have fairly won you

for a bride, and you shall not say no to me.”

 

“Yes, yes; that is right,” said the Princess. “Now I know that you are

the cleverest as well as the bravest man in all the world, and you and

you alone shall be my husband.”

 

So Boots and the Princess were married with great rejoicing and

magnificence, and if anyone were sorry it was not the Princess nor

Boots.

 

As for Dapplegrim, nothing was too good for him. If he had wished it,

he might have had a bridle of gold and a saddle set with precious gems,

and a silver bed to lie on. He lived to a good old age, and they were

all happy for ever after.

 

 

 

 

THE FISH PRINCE

 

A HINDU FOLK TALE

 

 

THERE were once a Rajah and Ranee who had no child, though every day

they prayed that one might be sent to them. For this reason the Ranee

at last became quite melancholy, and took no more pleasure in anything.

 

One day some fish were brought to the palace kitchen to be prepared

as usual for the Rajah’s dinner. Among them was one such as the cook

had never seen before. Its scales shone with all the colours of the

rainbow, and upon its head was a mark that looked like a little golden

crown. The cook examined it curiously, and then was about to prepare it

for cooking as he had done with the others, but it lifted up its head

and spoke to him.

 

“Do not kill me,” said the fish. “Instead, put me in a basin of water

and carry me to the Ranee, and it may be I will amuse her.”

 

The cook was very much surprised to hear a fish speaking, and it seemed

to him such a wonderful creature that it might very well amuse even the

Ranee; he therefore put it in a basin of water, and gave it to a maid,

and bade her carry it to the queen.

 

The maid did as she was told, and the Ranee was indeed very much

pleased with the beautiful little fish. All day she kept it beside her

and watched its quick movements and its changing colours. The next day

she was even more pleased with it, and before long she became so fond

of it that she could not have loved it better if it had been her own

child. She named it Muchie Rajah, or the Fish Prince, and called it her

son.

 

After a time the fish grew so large that it could no longer live in the

basin, and then it was put in a marble bath. As it still continued to

grow, the Ranee had a great tank made for it out in the palace gardens.

Here every day she went to visit it. She always carried some rice with

her, and when she called it, the great fish would rise through the

water and eat from her hand, and play about where she could see it.

 

But one day when the Ranee came to the tank she saw Muchie Rajah lying

on the water very still. His colours looked dull, and when she called

to him he came to her slowly, and would not eat the rice she had

brought to him.

 

The Ranee was greatly troubled. “Alas, my dear son,” she cried, “what

is it that ails you? Are you sick, that you will not eat the good rice

I have brought to you?”

 

“I am not sick,” answered the great fish, “but I am very, very lonely.

My mother, I beg of you to have a little room built in the side of

the tank, and bring some young girl to live in it all the time and be

company for me.”

 

The Ranee could refuse nothing to her dear Muchie Rajah. She

immediately sent for masons and stone-cutters, and had a little room

made in the side of the tank. The room was so cleverly built that the

fish could reach his head over the side of it, and yet it was protected

from the water in such a way that one could live in it safely and not

be drowned. The walls of it were carved and coloured and set with

precious stones, so that it was very beautiful, and there were hanging

lamps in it to give light by day and night.

 

After all was finished, the Ranee sent out messengers through the

country to find some beautiful girl to come and live in the little

room, and be the bride of her dear Muchie Rajah. To the parents of such

a girl she promised to give a lac of gold mohurs.

 

But though the messengers journeyed far and near, they could find no

parents who were willing to give their daughter to the Fish Prince.

“No, no,” they said; “our daughters are worth more to us than a lac of

gold mohurs. This Muchie Rajah is very large and strong and fierce, and

what he wishes is not a bride, but some young girl to eat.”

 

Now not far from the palace there lived a fakir, whose wife had died

and left him with one daughter. This girl, whose name was Balna, was

very beautiful. After the death of his first wife the fakir married

again. The second wife also had a daughter, but her daughter was as

ugly as Balna was beautiful, and as ill-tempered as Balna was sweet and

gentle.

 

The stepmother hated Balna and was very jealous of her, and would have

done anything to rid the house of her.

 

One time the fakir went away on a long journey, leaving his house and

all that was in it in the charge of his wife. The messengers were still

seeking for a bride for the Muchie Rajah, and as soon as the fakir

had gone his wife sent for them, and said, “I have a daughter whom I

am willing to let you have for the Fish Prince, and as she is very

beautiful I am sure you will be delighted with her.”

 

The messengers were very glad to hear this, and said they would come

for the girl the next day, and bring a lac of gold mohurs to the woman

in payment for her.

 

After they had gone the stepmother called Balna to her and told her

what she had promised.

 

The girl was very much frightened. “Alas!” she cried, “what have you

done? The great fish will certainly eat me. If my father had been here

he would never have allowed you to sell me.”

 

“This is silly talk,” answered the stepmother. “Why should the fish

eat you? He is lonely and wishes a companion. You ought to be proud and

happy to be the wife of a Rajah, even if he is only a fish.”

 

She then bade the girl go down to the river and wash her _saree_,[1]

that she might be clean and neat when the messengers came for her.

 

Balna took her _saree_ and went down to the river to wash it, and as

she washed it she wept bitterly.

 

Now it so happened that an old seven-headed cobra had a hole in the

bank of the river, and lived there with his wife and children. He heard

the sound of weeping just above him, and it kept on for so long that

after a while he stuck one of his heads out of the hole and spoke to

the girl.

 

“Why are you weeping here?” he said. “Do you not know that your tears

are dropping down into my house like rain, and that they are very salt?”

 

“Oh, Father Cobra, excuse me,” answered the girl, “but I have good

cause to weep. My stepmother has sold me to be the bride of Muchie

Rajah, and I know he will certainly eat me, for he is very large and

fierce.”

 

“Listen to me, daughter,” said the cobra, “for I am very wise and know

all things. This great fish you speak of is not a fish at all, but the

Rajah of a far country. In some way he offended the gods, and as a

punishment he was changed into the shape of a fish and sent to live in

the river. Now if you will do exactly what I tell you to do, you can

break this enchantment and become his Ranee; but if you do not do as I

say, then he will of a certainty eat you as you fear.”

 

The cobra then gave the girl three stones, and bade her tie them into

the corner of her _saree_ so as not to lose them. “To-morrow the

messengers will come and take you to Muchie Rajah,” he said. “They will

put you in the little room in the side of the tank. When it is night,

you must not on any account go to sleep. If you do, you will be lost.

But take these stones in your hand and watch. When he comes near you,

throw a stone at him. Immediately he will sink to the bottom of the

tank and will lie there for a while. When he comes again, throw the

second stone at him and he will again go away, and when he comes for

the third time, throw the third stone. Then the enchantment will be

broken, and he will resume his natural form, and you will have nothing

more to fear from him.”

 

The girl heard with joy what the cobra said to her. She thanked him and

tied the stones in the corner of the _saree_, and then she ran on home

again. When she went into the house her stepmother was surprised to see

how cheerful she had become. She no longer wept nor complained, and

when, the next day, the messengers came for her, she was quite willing

to go away with them.

 

[Illustration: SHE MANAGED TO THROW THE THIRD STONE AT HIM]

 

At the palace the old Ranee was waiting impatiently for the bride, and

she was delighted when she saw what a beautiful girl the messengers had

brought with them.

 

Balna was taken out to the tank, and a great crowd of people followed

to see what would become of her. Many of them pitied her, and they

wondered that she went so cheerfully, for they expected no less than

that she would be eaten by the great fish.

 

After she was put in the little room in the side of the tank the crowd

waited about for a long time. Every moment they expected to see Muchie

Rajah rise through the water and swallow her, but nothing happened. The

water lay black and still, and there was no sound but the lapping of

the little waves against the stonework.

 

After a while night came, and the people grew tired of waiting and went

away to their homes. Balna was left in the little room all alone. She

untied the corner of her saree and took out the three stones. Two she

laid on the floor beside her, and one she kept in her hand.

 

About midnight the water was disturbed. The waves dashed louder against

the stones. There was a hissing sound, and Muchie Rajah rose through

the water. He came rushing on toward the room, his mouth open, and

his scales as red as rubies.

 

Balna was terribly frightened, but she held the stone fast and waited.

When he was almost near enough to seize her, she threw the stone at him.

 

Immediately Muchie Rajah closed his jaws and sank down into the depths

of the water where she could not see him.

 

After that she waited and watched for some time, but all was still.

Then again the waves dashed louder. They rose to the edge of the

stonework. Muchie Rajah came rushing through the water again, his mouth

open, and his scales shining like fire.

 

Balna was more frightened than ever, but she threw the second stone at

him, and again he sank through the water, and all was still.

 

This time he was gone longer than before, and the girl watched and

waited. Then, suddenly, with a roaring sound, he came rushing at her

again; his tail beat the waters into foam about him; his scales shone

so red that the whole tank seemed full of blood.

 

Balna was almost dead with fright, but she managed to throw the third

stone at him. No sooner did it touch Muchie Rajah than the enchantment

was broken. Instead of the great fish, a handsome young Rajah stood

there before her. He was dressed in cloth of gold embroidered in

wonderful colours. His turban was fastened with an enormous ruby, and

on his breast hung a chain set with precious stones. He took Balna by

the hand and spoke to her.

 

“You have saved both my life and your own,” he said. “The enchantment

is broken, and now we can live together happily, and you and you only

shall be my bride.”

 

Very early the next morning the Ranee and her attendants came out

to the tank to see whether the girl was still alive, or whether she

had been eaten by the great fish. What was their surprise to find in

the tank room not only Balna, but a handsome young prince, who told

them he was Muchie Rajah. He also told them how Balna had broken the

enchantment, and that now he would marry her and live in his own proper

shape for ever.

 

Then there was great rejoicing, and the old Rajah and Ranee adopted

the Fish Prince as their own son, and Balna was to them in place of a

daughter.

 

When the fakir’s wife heard what had happened to Balna, and how,

instead of being eaten by the fish, she had become the bride of a

great Rajah, she was ready to die with rage and spite. However, she

hid her feelings and went to the palace and made friends with Balna.

She pretended that she had only wished her well, and had known all

along how it would turn out. Balna, who was very simple and forgiving,

believed all the wicked stepmother said to her. She made her and the

step-sister welcome at the palace, and gave them many gifts, but they

only hated her more and more and were always plotting how they could

injure her.

 

One time Balna and her stepmother and her step-sister went down to walk

by the river in the cool of the afternoon. Presently the step-sister

began to admire the young Ranee’s jewels, and she asked Balna to let

her try them on: “For,” said she, “I have never worn such beautiful

jewels as those are.”

 

Balna was quite willing, and she took off the jewels and put them upon

her sister—the armlets, the necklaces, the rings, and the bracelets.

Just at the last the step-sister allowed one of the earrings to fall to

the ground. “Look,” cried she, “I have dropped an earring. Do you pick

it up for me, Balna, for I fear that if I stoop others may fall off

too.”

 

The young Ranee stooped for the earring. Then the stepmother gave her

such a push that she fell into the river. The place where she fell in

was very deep, and she sank out of sight immediately.

 

The two wicked women waited there for a while, but they saw nothing of

her, so they were sure she must be drowned; then they went back to the

palace.

 

The step-sister was still wearing all of Balna’s jewels, and she was so

covered up with them that every one thought she was the young Ranee.

They went at once to Balna’s apartments, and there the fakir’s wife put

her daughter to bed, and gave out that the Ranee was very ill and could

see no one. It was a long time before even Muchie Rajah himself was

allowed to enter the room. When he did, he was shocked to see how his

beautiful bride had changed.

 

“It is because of her illness,” said the fakir’s wife. “Wait until she

is well again, then all will be as it was before.”

 

The young Rajah never doubted but that it was his bride who lay there,

and he was very unhappy because his delicate Ranee had become so coarse

and ugly and stupid. Still he was kind to her, and often came to visit

her in her apartments.

 

But Balna had not been drowned as her stepmother and her sister

thought. It so happened that the place where she had fallen into the

river was close to where the old seven-headed cobra had his hole. He

had heard the sound of voices overhead, and then a great splash; he

looked out to see what had caused it, and there he saw the young Ranee

struggling in the water. He felt sorry for her, and reached out and

drew her into his hole. Then he carried her up to where she could get

some air, for his hole had two openings, one into the river and one out

on to the bank overhead.

 

The young Ranee was almost drowned, but presently she came to herself

again. Then she wished to set out for the palace, but this the cobra

would not allow her to do.

 

“Your stepmother and your sister are there even now,” he said, “and if

you went back they would certainly do you some harm. Stay here with me,

and if your husband, the Rajah, comes to look for you, I will let you

go back with him, but not otherwise.”

 

When Balna heard this she was very sad, but she was obliged to stay

there in the cobra’s hole, as he said. After a time her little son was

born there, and she named him Muchie Lal, the Ruby Fish, after his

father.

 

The little Muchie Lal grew up strong and straight and handsome, and the

old cobra became so fond of him that he loved him better than he did

his own children; there was scarcely anything he would refuse him.

 

One day a bangle-seller came past the cobra’s hole, and Muchie Lal

wished to buy some of his bangles, but the cobra said, “No, these are

very common bangles, and not suitable for a prince to wear. I will give

the man some jewels, and he shall make for you bangles such as you

ought to have.”

 

The cobra then brought from his treasure-house a number of diamonds and

rubies and other precious stones. He gave them to the bangle-seller.

“Take these,” he said, “and make them into bangles, and bring them back

to me as quickly as possible and you shall be well paid. And remember,

they must be very handsome, for they are for this prince, Muchie Lal.”

 

The bangle-seller took the stones home with him and made the bangles,

and they were finished in a week’s time. Then he started out to carry

them back to the cobra. They were very handsome, and he was so proud of

them that he carried them so that every one might see.

 

Now on his way it so chanced that he met Muchie Rajah, and the prince

was so surprised to see a poor man carrying such costly bangles that he

stopped and began to question him.

 

“Those are very handsome jewels,” said he. “I have never seen finer.

Even I myself have none like them. Tell me, how did you come by them?”

 

“They are not mine,” answered the bangle-seller; “they belong to an old

seven-headed cobra who lives down by the river. He gave them to me to

make into bangles for a young prince named Muchie Lal, who lives with

him.”

 

The Rajah was very much surprised at what the bangle-seller told him.

“This is a strange story,” said he. “I will go with you, for I should

like to see this young prince who lives in a cobra’s hole.”

 

So Muchie Rajah went down to the river bank with the bangle-seller.

Muchie Lal was there playing close to the cobra’s hole with the young

cobras. When he saw the bangle-seller he ran to meet him, calling to

him to know whether he had brought the bangles; and the young prince

was so exactly like his mother, the beautiful Balna, that the Rajah was

filled with joy and sorrow.

 

“Tell me, child,” he cried, “who are you, and who was your mother?”

 

“I am Muchie Lal,” answered the boy, “and my mother is the Ranee Balna,

and we live here by the river in the hole of an old seven-headed cobra.”

 

Then Muchie Rajah knelt down by the cobra’s hole and called, “Oh, my

dear wife, if it is you, and you are still alive, answer me!”

 

Balna heard his voice down in the cobra’s hole, and came running out

and threw herself into his arms.

 

“Oh, I have waited for you so long,” she cried, “but you have come at

last, and now I can go back with you to the palace.”

 

So they were very happy. Only the cobra was sad to have them go, and

the cobra’s children were grieved to lose their little playmate. But he

promised them to come back sometimes and play with them there by the

river.

 

Then the Rajah and the Ranee and Muchie Lal all went back to the palace

together, and there was great rejoicing.

 

But when the fakir’s wife and her daughter heard that Balna was still

alive, and that her husband had found her, they were so frightened that

they ran away and hid themselves in the deep forest, and no one has

ever heard of them again from that day to this.

 

FOOTNOTE:

 

[1] A long piece of cotton or silk cloth, forming the principal garment of Hindu women.