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C. F. F |
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THE SNAKE-WOMAN[1] AND KING
ALI MARDAN[2]
NCE upon a time King Ali
Mardan went out a-hunting, and as he hunted in the forest above the beautiful Dal lake,[3] which stretches clear
and placid between the mountains and the royal town of Srinagar, he came
suddenly on a maiden, lovely as a flower, who, seated beneath a tree, was
weeping bitterly. Bidding his followers remain at a distance, he went up to the
damsel, and asked her who she was, and how she came to be alone in the wild
forest.
'O
great King,' she answered, looking up in his face, 'I am the Emperor
of China's handmaiden,[4] and as I wandered about
in the pleasure-grounds of his palace I lost my way. I know not how far I have
come since, but now I must surely die, for I am weary and hungry!'
'So
fair a maiden must not die while Ali Mardan can deliver her,' quoth the
monarch, gazing ardently on the beautiful girl. So he bade his servants convey
her with the greatest care to his summer palace in the Shalimar
gardens,[5] where the fountains
scatter dewdrops over the beds of flowers, and laden fruit-trees bend over the
marble colonnades. And there, amid the flowers and sunshine, she lived with the
King, who speedily became so enamoured of her that he forgot everything else in
the world.
So
the days passed until it chanced that a Jôgi's servant, coming back from
the holy lake Gangabal,[6] which lies on the snowy
peak of Haramukh, whither he went every year to draw water for his master,
passed by the gardens; and over the high garden wall he saw the tops of the
fountains, leaping and splashing like silver sunshine. He was so astonished at
the sight that he put his vessel of water on the ground, and climbed over the wall,
determined to see the wonderful things inside. Once in the garden amid the
fountains and flowers, he wandered hither and thither, bewildered by beauty,
until, wearied out by excitement, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
Now
the King, coming to walk in the garden, found the man lying there, and noticed
that he held something fast in his closed right hand. Stooping down, Ali Mardan
gently loosed the fingers, and discovered a tiny box filled with a
sweet-smelling ointment. While he was examining this more closely, the sleeper
awoke, and missing his box, began to weep and wail; whereupon the King bade him
be comforted, and showing him the box, promised to return it if he would
faithfully tell why it was so precious to him.
'O
great King,' replied the Jôgi's servant, 'the box belongs to my master,
and it contains a holy ointment of many virtues. By its power I am preserved
from all harm, and am able to go to Gangabal and return with my jar full of
water in so short a time that my master is never without the sacred element.'
Then
the King was astonished, and, looking at the man keenly, said, 'Tell me the
truth! Is your master indeed such a holy saint? Is he indeed such a wonderful
man?'
'O
King,' replied the servant, 'he is indeed such a man, and there is nothing in
the world he does not know!'
This
reply aroused the King's curiosity, and putting the box in his vest, he said to
the servant, 'Go home to your master, and tell him King Ali Mardan has his box,
and means to keep it until he comes to fetch it himself.' In this way he hoped
to entice the holy Jôgi into his presence.
So
the servant, seeing there was nothing else to be done, set off to his master,
but he was two years and a half reaching home, because he had not the precious
box with the magical ointment; and all this time Ali Mardan lived with the
beautiful stranger in the Shalimar palace, and forgot everything in the wide
world except her loveliness. Yet he was not happy, and a strange look came over
his face, and a stony stare into his eyes.
Now,
when the servant reached home at last, and told his master what had occurred,
the Jôgi was very angry, but as he could not get on without the box which
enabled him to procure the water from Gangabal, he set off at once to the court
of King Ali Mardan. On his arrival, the King treated him with the greatest
honour, and faithfully fulfilled the promise of returning the box.
Now
the Jôgi was indeed a learned man, and when he saw the King he knew at
once all was not right, so he said, 'O King, you have been gracious unto me,
and I in my turn desire to do you a kind action; so tell me truly,–have you
always had that white scared face and those stony eyes?'
The
King hung his head.
'Tell
me truly,' continued the holy Jôgi, 'have you any strange woman in your
palace?'
Then
Ali Mardan, feeling a strange relief in speaking, told the Jôgi about the
finding of the maiden, so lovely and forlorn, in the forest.
'She
is no handmaiden of the Emperor of China–she is no woman!' quoth the Jôgi
fearlessly; 'she is nothing but a Lamia–the dreadful two-hundred-years-old
snake which has the power of taking woman's shape!'
Hearing
this, King Ali Mardan was at first indignant, for he was madly in love with the
stranger; but when the Jôgi insisted, he became alarmed, and at last
promised to obey the holy man's orders, and so discover the truth or falsehood
of his words.
Therefore,
that same evening he ordered two kinds of khichrî[7] to be made ready for
supper, and placed in one dish, so that one half was sweet khichrî,
and the other half salt.
Now,
when as usual the King sat down to eat out of the same dish with the
Snake-woman, he turned the salt side towards her and the sweet side towards
himself.
She
found her portion very salt, but, seeing the King eat his with relish and
without remark, finished hers in silence. But when they had retired to rest,
and the King, obeying the Jôgi's orders, had feigned sleep, the
Snake-woman became so dreadfully thirsty, in consequence of all the salt food
she had eaten, that she longed for a drink of water; and as there was none in
the room, she was obliged to go outside to get some.
Now,
if a Snake-woman goes out at night, she must resume her own loathsome form; so,
as King Ali Mardan lay feigning sleep, he saw the beautiful form in his arms
change to a deadly slimy snake, that slid from the bed out of the door into the
garden. He followed it softly, watching it drink of every fountain by the way,
until it reached the Dal lake, where it drank and bathed for hours.
Fully
satisfied of the truth of the Jôgi's story, King Ali Mardan begged him
for aid in getting rid of the beautiful horror. This the Jôgi promised to
do, if the King would faithfully obey orders. So they made an oven of a hundred
different kinds of metal melted together, and closed by a strong lid and a
heavy padlock. This they placed in a shady corner of the garden fastening it
securely to the ground by strong chains. When all was ready, the King said to
the Snake-woman, 'My heart's beloved! Let us wander in the gardens alone
to-day, and amuse ourselves by cooking our own food.'
She,
nothing loath, consented, and so they wandered about in the garden; and when
dinner-time came, set to work, with laughter and mirth, to cook their own food.
The
King heated the oven very hot, and kneaded the bread, but being clumsy at it,
he told the Snake-woman he could do no more, and that she must bake the bread.
This she at first refused to do, saying that she disliked ovens, but when the
King pretended to be vexed, averring she could not love him since she refused
to help, she gave in, and set to work with a very bad grace to tend the baking.
Then,
just as she stooped over the oven's mouth, to turn the loaves, the King,
seizing his opportunity, pushed her in, and clapping down the cover, locked and
double-locked it.
Now,
when the Snake-woman found herself caught in the scorching oven, she bounded
so, that had it not been for the strong chains, she would have bounded out of
the garden, oven and all! But as it was, all she could do was to bound up and
down, whilst the King and the Jôgi piled fuel on to the fire, and the
oven grew hotter and hotter. So it went on from four o'clock one afternoon to
four o'clock the next, when the Snake-woman ceased to bound, and all was quiet.
They
waited until the oven grew cold, and then opened it, when not a trace of the
Snake-woman was to be seen, only a tiny heap of ashes, out of which the
Jôgi took a small round stone,[8] and gave it to the King,
saying, 'This is the real essence of the Snake-woman, and whatever you touch
with it will turn to gold.'
But
King Ali Mardan said such a treasure was more than any man's life was worth,
since it must bring envy and battle and murder to its possessor; so when he
went to Attock[9] he threw the magical
Snake-stone into the river, lest it should bring strife into the world.