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

off his cake which never diminished, and proceeded on his way to take him to the great Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una.

      As they journeyed on thus day after day, and had grown weary, thus spoke the Siddhî-kür, “Long is the journey, and both of us are weary, tell thou now a story to enliven it.”

      But, remembering the words of Nâgârg′una, “Beware thou open not thy lips to speak,” he answered him never a word.

      Then said the Siddhî-kür again, “If thou wilt not tell a story to lighten the journey, at least listen to one from me, and to this thou canst give assent without opening thy lips, if only thou nod thy head backwards towards me. At this sign I will 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:—

      Tale I.

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The Woman Who Sought Her Husband in the Palace of Erlik Khan.

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      Long ages ago there reigned a young Khan whose father had died early and left him in possession of the kingdom. He was a youth comely to look upon, and dazzling in the glory of his might. To him had been given for his chief wife the daughter of a Khan of the South. But the young Khan loved not this wife. At a mile’s distance from his palace there lived in her father’s house a well-grown, beautiful maiden, of whom he had made his second wife; as she was not a Khan’s daughter he feared to take her home to his palace, lest he should displease his mother, but he came often to visit her, and as they loved each other very much, she asked no more.

      One night, when the moon was brightly shining, some one knocked at the window, the maiden knew it was the Khan’s manner of knocking, so she opened to him—but with trembling, for he had never been wont to come at that hour; yet by the light of the moonbeam she saw that it was indeed himself, only instead of his usual garments, he was habited in shining apparel, which she could hardly look upon for its brightness, and he, himself, too, looked more exceeding beautiful than usual. When he had partaken of her rice-brandy and cakes, he rose and stood upon the doorstep, saying, “Come, sweet wife, come out together with me;” and when she had gone a little way with him, he said, “Come, sweet wife, come a little farther with me.” And when she had gone a little farther with him, he said again, “Come, sweet wife, come yet a little farther.” So she went yet a little farther till they had reached nearly to the gates of the palace, and from within the courts of the palace there came a noise of shouting and playing on instruments. Then inquired she, “To what end is this shouting and this music?” And he replied, “It is the noise of the sacrifice for the rites of the burial of the Khan1.” “And why do they celebrate the rites of the burial of the Khan?” she asked, now beginning to fear in earnest. “Because I am dead, sweet wife, and am even now on my way to the deva’s kingdom. But thou listen to me, and do according to my word, and all shall be well for thee and for our son. Behold, even now, within the palace, my mother and my chief wife strive together concerning a jewel which is lost. But I have purposely hid the jewel under a god’s image in the apartment. Thou, therefore, pass the night in this elephant-stable of the palace hard by, and there shall our son be born; and in the morning, the elephant-tamers finding thee shall bring thee to my mother and my chief wife. But thou, take the jewel and give it to the chief wife and send her away to her own people. Then shall my mother have joy in thee alone and in the child, and you two together shall direct the Government till he be come to man’s estate.” Thus spoke the Khan.

      While he spoke these words, the wife was so stricken with fear and grief that she fell to the ground senseless, nor knew that he bore her into the elephant-stable, and went up to the deva’s kingdom.

      In the night their son was born; and in the morning, the elephant-tamers coming in, said, “Here is a woman and a babe lying in the elephant-stable; this must not be, who knows but that it might bring evil to the elephants2?” so they raised her up, with her infant, and took her to the Khan’s mother. Then she told the Khan’s mother all that had befallen her, and as the jewel was found in the place the Khan had told her, it was taken for proof of her truth. Accordingly, the jewel was given to the chief wife, and she was dismissed to her own people; and as the Khan had left no other child, the boy born in the elephant-stable was declared heir, and his mother and the Khan’s mother directed the Government together till he should come to man’s estate.

      Thus the lowly maiden was established in the palace as the Khan had promised. Moreover, every month, on the fifteenth of the month, the Khan came in the night to visit her, disappearing again with the morning light. When she told this to the Khan’s mother, she would not believe her, because he was invisible to all eyes but hers. And when she protested that she spoke only words of truth, the Khan’s mother said, “If it be very truth, then obtain of him that his mother may see him also.”

      On the fifteenth of the month, when he came again, she said therefore to him, “That thou shouldst come thus to see me every month, on the fifteenth of the month, is good; but that thou shouldst go away and leave me all alone again, this is sad, very sad. Why canst thou not come back and stay with us altogether, without going away any more?”

      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;