Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 09 (34 page)

When Wali Dad from a distance saw the cloud of dust which the
caravan made, and the glitter of its appointments, he said to
himself: 'By Allah! here's a grand crowd coming! Elephants, too!
Grass will be selling well to-day!' And with that he hurried off
to the jungle and cut grass as fast as he could. As soon as he
got back he found the caravan had stopped at his door, and the
merchant was waiting, a little anxiously, to tell him the news
and to congratulate him upon his riches.

'Riches!' cried Wali Dad, 'what has an old man like me with one
foot in the grave to do with riches? That beautiful young
princess, now! She'd be the one to enjoy all these fine things!
Do you take for yourself two horses, two camels, and two
elephants, with all their trappings, and present the rest to
her.'

The merchant at first objected to these remarks, and pointed out
to Wali Dad that he was beginning to feel these embassies a
little awkward. Of course he was himself richly repaid, so far
as expenses went; but still he did not like going so often, and
he was getting nervous. At length, however he consented to go
once more, but he promised himself never to embark on another
such enterprise.

So, after a few days' rest, the caravan started off once more for
Khaistan.

The moment the king of Khaistan saw the gorgeous train of men and
beasts entering his palace courtyard, he was so amazed that he
hurried down in person to inquire about it, and became dumb when
he heard that these also were a present from the princely Wali
Dad, and were for the princess, his daughter. He went hastily
off to her apartments, and said to her: 'I tell you what it is,
my dear, this man wants to marry you; that is the meaning of all
these presents! There is nothing for it but that we go and pay
him a visit in person. He must be a man of immense wealth, and
as he is so devoted to you, perhaps you might do worse than marry
him!'

The princess agreed with all that her father said, and orders
were issued for vast numbers of elephants and camels, and
gorgeous tents and flags, and litters for the ladies, and horses
for the men, to be prepared without delay, as the king and
princess were going to pay a visit to the great and munificent
prince Wali Dad. The merchant, the king declared, was to guide
the party.

The feelings of the poor merchant in this sore dilemma can hardly
be imagined. Willingly would he have run away; but he was
treated with so much hospitality as Wali Dad's representative,
that he hardly got an instant's real peace, and never any
opportunity of slipping away. In fact, after a few days, despair
possessed him to such a degree that he made up his mind that all
that happened was fate, and that escape was impossible; but he
hoped devoutly some turn of fortune would reveal to him a way out
of the difficulties which he had, with the best intentions, drawn
upon himself.

On the seventh day they all started, amidst thunderous salutes
from the ramparts of the city, and much dust, and cheering, and
blaring of trumpets.

Day after day they moved on, and every day the poor merchant felt
more ill and miserable. He wondered what kind of death the king
would invent for him, and went through almost as much torture, as
he lay awake nearly the whole of every night thinking over the
situation, as he would have suffered if the king's executioners
were already setting to work upon his neck.

At last they were only one day's march from Wali Dad's little mud
home. Here a great encampment was made, and the merchant was
sent on to tell Wali Dad that the King and Princess of Khaistan
had arrived and were seeking an interview. When the merchant
arrived he found the poor old man eating his evening meal of
onions and dry bread, and when he told him of all that had
happened he had not the heart to proceed to load him with the
reproaches which rose to his tongue. For Wali Dad was
overwhelmed with grief and shame for himself, for his friend, and
for the name and honour of the princess; and he wept and plucked
at his beard, and groaned most piteously. With tears he begged
the merchant to detain them for one day by any kind of excuse he
could think of, and to come in the morning to discuss what they
should do.

As soon as the merchant was gone Wali Dad made up his mind that
there was only one honourable way out of the shame and distress
that he had created by his foolishness, and that was—to kill
himself. So, without stopping to ask any one's advice, he went
off in the middle of the night to a place where the river wound
along at the base of steep rocky cliffs of great height, and
determined to throw himself down and put an end to his life.
When he got to the place he drew back a few paces, took a little
run, and at the very edge of that dreadful black gulf he stopped
short! He COULD not do it!

From below, unseen in the blackness of the deep night shadows,
the water roared and boiled round the jagged rocks—he could
picture the place as he knew it, only ten times more pitiless and
forbidding in the visionless darkness; the wind soughed through
the gorge with fearsome sighs, and rustlings and whisperings, and
the bushes and grasses that grew in the ledges of the cliffs
seemed to him like living creatures that danced and beckoned,
shadowy and indistinct. An owl laughed 'Hoo! hoo!' almost in his
face, as he peered over the edge of the gulf, and the old man
threw himself back in a perspiration of horror. He was afraid!
He drew back shuddering, and covering his face in his hands he
wept aloud.

Presently he was aware of a gentle radiance that shed itself
before him. Surely morning was not already coming to hasten and
reveal his disgrace! He took his hands from before his face, and
saw before him two lovely beings whom his instinct told him were
not mortal, but were Peris from Paradise.

'Why do you weep, old man?' said one, in a voice as clear and
musical as that of the bulbul.

'I weep for shame,' replied he.

'What do you here?' questioned the other.

'I came here to die,' said Wali Dad. And as they questioned him,
he confessed all his story.

Then the first stepped forward and laid a hand upon his shoulder,
and Wali Dad began to feel that something strange—what, he did
not know—was happening to him. His old cotton rags of clothes
were changed to beautiful linen and embroidered cloth; on his
hard, bare feet were warm, soft shoes, and on his head a great
jewelled turban. Round his neck there lay a heavy golden chain,
and the little old bent sickle, which he cut grass with, and
which hung in his waistband, had turned into a gorgeous scimetar,
whose ivory hilt gleamed in the pale light like snow in
moonlight. As he stood wondering, like a man in a dream, the
other peri waved her hand and bade him turn and see; and, lo!
before him a noble gateway stood open. And up an avenue of giant
place trees the peris led him, dumb with amazement. At the end
of the avenue, on the very spot where his hut had stood, a
gorgeous palace appeared, ablaze with myriads of lights. Its
great porticoes and verandahs were occupied by hurrying servants,
and guards paced to and fro and saluted him respectfully as he
drew near, along mossy walks and through sweeping grassy lawns
where fountains were playing and flowers scented the air. Wali
Dad stood stunned and helpless.

'Fear not,' said one of the peris; 'go to your house, and learn
that God rewards the simple-hearted.'

With these words they both disappeared and left him. He walked
on, thinking still that he must be dreaming. Very soon he
retired to rest in a splendid room, far grander than anything he
had ever dreamed of.

When morning dawned he woke, and found that the palace, and
himself, and his servants were all real, and that he was not
dreaming after all!

If he was dumbfounded, the merchant, who was ushered into his
presence soon after sunrise, was much more so. He told Wali Dad
that he had not slept all night, and by the first streak of
daylight had started to seek out his friend. And what a search
he had had! A great stretch of wild jungle country had, in the
night, been changed into parks and gardens; and if it had not
been for some of Wali Dad's new servants, who found him and
brought him to the palace, he would have fled away under the
impression that his trouble had sent him crazy, and that all he
saw was only imagination.

Then Wali Dad told the merchant all that had happened. By his
advice he sent an invitation to the king and princess of Khaistan
to come and be his guests, together with all their retinue and
servants, down to the very humblest in the camp.

For three nights and days a great feast was held in honour of the
royal guests. Every evening the king and his nobles were served
on golden plates and from golden cups; and the smaller people on
silver plates and from silver cups; and each evening each guest
was requested to keep the places and cups that they had used as a
remembrance of the occasion. Never had anything so splendid been
seen. Besides the great dinners, there were sports and hunting,
and dances, and amusements of all sorts.

On the fourth day the king of Khaistan took his host aside, and
asked him whether it was true, as he had suspected, that he
wished to marry his daughter. But Wali Dad, after thanking him
very much for the compliment, said that he had never dreamed of
so great an honour, and that he was far too old and ugly for so
fair a lady; but he begged the king to stay with him until he
could send for the Prince of Nekabad, who was a most excellent,
brave, and honourable young man, and would surely be delighted to
try to win the hand of the beautiful princess.

To this the king agreed, and Wali Dad sent the merchant to
Nekabad, with a number of attendants, and with such handsome
presents that the prince came at once, fell head over ears in
love with the princess, and married her at Wali Dad's palace
amidst a fresh outburst of rejoicings.

And now the King of Khaistan and the Prince and Princess of
Nekabad, each went back to their own country; and Wali Dad lived
to a good old age, befriending all who were in trouble and
preserving, in his prosperity, the simple-hearted and generous
nature that he had when he was only Wali Dad Gunjay, the grass
cutter.

(Told the author by an Indian.)

Once upon a time there was a country where the rivers were
larger, and the forests deeper, than anywhere else. Hardly any
men came there, and the wild creatures had it all to themselves,
and used to play all sorts of strange games with each other. The
great trees, chained one to the other by thick flowering plants
with bright scarlet or yellow blossoms, were famous hiding-places
for the monkeys, who could wait unseen, till a puma or an
elephant passed by, and then jump on their backs and go for a
ride, swinging themselves up by the creepers when they had had
enough. Near the rivers huge tortoises were to be found, and
though to our eyes a tortoise seems a dull, slow thing, it is
wonderful to think how clever they were, and how often they
outwitted many of their livelier friends.

There was one tortoise in particular that always managed to get
the better of everybody, and many were the tales told in the
forest of his great deeds. They began when he was quite young,
and tired of staying at home with his father and mother. He left
them one day, and walked off in search of adventures. In a wide
open space surrounded by trees he met with an elephant, who was
having his supper before taking his evening bath in the river
which ran close by. 'Let us see which of us two is strongest,'
said the young tortoise, marching up to the elephant. 'Very
well,' replied the elephant, much amused at the impertinence of
the little creature; 'when would you like the trial to be?'

'In an hour's time; I have some business to do first,' answered
the tortoise. And he hastened away as fast as his short legs
would carry him.

In a pool of the river a whale was resting, blowing water into
the air and making a lovely fountain. The tortoise, however, was
too young and too busy to admire such things, and he called to
the whale to stop, as he wanted to speak to him. 'Would you like
to try which of us is the stronger?' said he. The whale looked
at him, sent up another fountain, and answered: 'Oh, yes;
certainly. When do you wish to begin? I am quite ready.'

'Then give me one of your longest bones, and I will fasten it to
my leg. When I give the signal, you must pull, and we will see
which can pull the hardest.'

'Very good,' replied the whale; and he took out one of his bones
and passed it to the tortoise.

The tortoise picked up the end of the bone in his mouth and went
back to the elephant. 'I will fasten this to your leg,' said he,
'in the same way as it is fastened to mine, and we must both pull
as hard as we can. We shall soon see which is the stronger.' So
he wound it carefully round the elephant's leg, and tied it in a
firm knot. 'Now!' cried he, plunging into a thick bush behind
him.

The whale tugged at one end, and the elephant tugged at the
other, and neither had any idea that he had not the tortoise for
his foe. When the whale pulled hardest the elephant was dragged
into the water; and when the elephant pulled the hardest the
whale was hauled on to the land. They were very evenly matched,
and the battle was a hard one.

At last they were quite tired, and the tortoise, who was
watching, saw that they could play no more. So he crept from his
hiding-place, and dipping himself in the river, he went to the
elephant and said: 'I see that you really are stronger than I
thought. Suppose we give it up for to-day?' Then he dried
himself on some moss and went to the whale and said: 'I see that
you really are stronger than I thought. Suppose we give it up
for to-day?'