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土耳其

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There was once upon a time a Padishah, and this Padishah had forty sons.
All day long they disported themselves in the forest, snaring birds and
hunting beasts, but when the youngest of them was fourteen years old
their father wished to marry them. So he sent for them all and told them
his desire. “We will marry,” said the forty brothers, “but only when we
find forty sisters who are the daughters of the same father and the same
mother.” Then the Padishah searched the whole realm through to find
forty such sisters, but though he found families of thirty-nine sisters,
families of forty sisters he could never find.

“Let the fortieth of you take another wife,” said the Padishah to his
sons. But the forty brothers would not agree thereto, and they begged
their father to allow them to go and search if haply they might find
what they wanted in another empire. What could the Padishah do? He could
not refuse them their request, so he gave them his permission. But
before they departed he summoned them into his presence, and this is
what their father the Padishah said to them: “I have three things to say
to you, which bear ye well in mind. When ye come in your journey to a
large spring, take heed not to pass the night near it. Beyond the spring
is a caravanserai; there also ye must not abide. Beyond the caravanserai
is a vast desert; and there also ye must not take a moment’s rest.” The
sons promised their father that they would keep his words, and with
baggage light of weight but exceedingly precious, they took horse and
set out on their journey.

They went on and on, they smoked their chibooks and drank forty cups of
coffee, and when evening descended the large spring was right before
them. “Verily,” began the elder brethren, “we will not go another step
further. We are weary, and the night is upon us, and what need forty men
fear?” And with that they dismounted from their horses, ate their
suppers, and laid them down to rest. Only the youngest brother, who was
fourteen years of age, remained awake.

It might have been near midnight when the youth heard a strange noise.
He caught up his arms, and turning in the direction of the sound saw
before him a seven-headed dragon. They rushed towards each other, and
thrice the dragon fell upon the prince, but could do him no harm. “Well,
now it is my turn,” cried the youth; “wilt thou be converted to the true
faith?” and with these words he struck the monster such a blow that six
of his seven heads came flying down.

“Strike me once more,” groaned the dragon.

“Not I,” replied the youth, “I myself only came into the world once.”
Immediately the dragon fell to pieces, but his one remaining head began
to roll and roll and roll till it stood on the brink of the well.
“Whoever can take my soul out of this well,” it said, “shall have my
treasure also,” and with these words the head bounded into the well.

The youth took a rope, fastened one end of it to a rock, and seizing the
other end himself, lowered himself into the well. At the bottom of the
well he found an iron door. He opened it, passed through, and there
right before him stood a palace compared with which his father’s palace
was a hovel. Into this palace he went, and in it were forty rooms, and
in each room was a damsel sitting by her embroidery frame with enormous
treasures behind her. “Art thou a man or a spirit?” cried the terrified
damsels.--“A man am I, and the son of a man,” replied the prince. “I
have just slain a seven-headed dragon, and have followed its rolling
head hither.”

Oh, how the forty damsels rejoiced at hearing these words. They embraced
the youth, and begged and prayed him not to leave them there. They were
the children of one father and one mother they said. The dragon had
killed their parents and carried them off, and they had nobody to look
to in the whole wide world.

“We also are forty,” said the youth, “and we are seeking forty damsels.”
Then he told them that he would first of all ascend to his brethren, and
then he would come for them again. So he ascended out of the well, went
to the spring, lay down beside it and fell asleep.

Early in the morning the forty brothers arose and laughed at their
father for trying to frighten them with the well. Again they set out on
their way, and went on and on till evening overtook them, when they
perceived a caravanserai before them. “Not a step further will we go,”
said the elder brothers. The youngest brother indeed insisted that it
would be well to remember their father’s words, for his speech could
surely not have been in vain. But they laughed at their youngest
brother, ate and drank, said their prayers, and lay down to sleep. Only
the youngest brother remained wide awake.

About midnight he again heard a noise. The youth snatched up his arms,
and again he saw before him a seven-headed dragon, but much larger than
the former one. The dragon rushed at him first of all, but could not
overcome him, then the youth dealt him one blow and off went six of the
dragon’s heads. Then the dragon wished him to take one more blow but he
would not; the head rolled into a well, the youth went after it, and
came upon a palace larger than the former one, and with ever so much
more treasures and precious things in it. He marked the well so that he
should know it again, returned to his brothers, and wearied out with his
great combat slept so soundly that his brothers had to wake him up with
blows next morning.

Again they arose, took horse, went up hill and down dale, and just as
the sun was setting, behold! a vast desert stood before them. They fell
to eating straightway, drank their fill also, and were just going to lie
down to sleep when all at once such a roaring, such a bellowing arose
that the very mountains fell down from their places.

The princes were horribly afraid, especially when they saw coming
against them a gigantic seven-headed dragon. He vomited forth venomous
fire in his wrath, and roared furiously: “Who killed my two brothers?
Hither with him! I’ll try conclusions with him also!”

The youngest brother saw that his brethren were more dead than alive
from fear, so he gave them the keys of the two wells, in one of which
was the vast heap of treasure, and in the other the forty damsels. Let
them take everything home, he said; as for himself he must first slay
the dragon and then he would follow after them. The thirty-nine brothers
lost no time in mounting their horses and galloping off. They drew the
treasure out of one well and the forty damsels out of the other, and so
returned home to their father. But now we will see what happened to the
youngest brother.

He fought the dragon and the dragon fought him, but neither could get
the better of the other. The dragon perceived that it was vain to try
and vanquish the youth, so he said to him: “If thou wilt go to the
Empire of Chin-i-Machin[12] and fetch me thence the Padishah’s daughter,
I will not worry the life out of thee.” To this the prince readily
agreed, for he could not have sustained the conflict much longer.

Then Champalak, for that was the dragon’s name, gave the prince a bridle
and said to him: “A good steed comes hither to feed every day, seize
him, put this bridle in his mouth, and bid him take thee to the Empire
of Chin-i-Machin!” So the youth took the bridle and waited for the good
charger. Presently a golden-maned charger came flying through the air,
and the moment the prince had put the bridle in its mouth, the charger
said: “What dost thou command, little Sultan?” and before you could wink
your eyes, the Empire of Chin-i-Machin stood before him. Then he
dismounted from his horse, took off the bridle, and went into the town.
There he entered into an old woman’s hut and asked her whether she
received guests. “Willingly,” answered the old woman. Then she made
ready a place for him, and while he was sipping his coffee he asked her
all about the talk of the town. “Well,” said the old woman, “a
seven-headed dragon is very much in love with our Sultan’s daughter. A
war has been raging between them on that account these many years, and
the monster presses us so hardly that not even a bird can fly into our
realm.”

“Then where is the Sultan’s daughter?” asked the youth.--“In a little
palace in the Padishah’s garden,” replied the old woman, “and the poor
thing dare not put her foot outside it.”

The next day the youth went to the Padishah’s garden, and asked the
gardener to take him as a servant, and he begged and prayed till the
gardener had not the heart to refuse him. “Very well, I will take thee,”
said he, “and thou wilt have nought to do but water the flowers of the
garden.”

Now the Sultan’s daughter saw the youth, called him to her window, and
asked him how he had managed to reach that realm. Then the youth told
her that his father was a Padishah, that he had fought with the dragon
Champalak on his travels, and had promised to bring him the Sultan’s
daughter. “Yet fear thou nothing,” added the youth, “my love is stronger
than the love of the serpent, and if thou wilt only have the courage to
come with me, trust me to find a way of disposing of him.”

The damsel was so much in love with the prince, and so eager to escape
from her captivity, that she consented to trust herself to him, and one
night they escaped from her palace and went straight towards the desert
where dwelt the dragon Champalak. They agreed on the way that the girl
should find out what the dragon’s talisman was, that they might destroy
him that way if they could do it no other.

Imagine the joy of Champalak when he perceived the princess! “What joy,
what rapture, that thou hast come!” cried Champalak; but fondle her and
caress her as he might, the damsel did nothing but weep. Days passed by,
weeks passed by, and yet the tears never left the damsel’s eyes. “Tell
me at least what thy talisman is,” said the damsel to him one day, “if
thou wouldst see me happy and not wretched with thee all thy days.”

“Alas, my soul!” said the dragon, “my talisman is guarded in a place
whither it is impossible ever to come. It is in a large palace in a
neighbouring realm, and though one may venture thither for it, no one
has ever been able to get back again.”

The prince needed no more, that was quite good enough for him. He took
his bridle, went with it to the sea-shore, and summoned his golden-maned
steed. “What dost thou command me, little Sultan?” said the steed. “I
desire thee to convey me to the neighbouring realm, to the palace of the
talisman of the dragon Champalak,” cried the youth--and in no more time
than it takes to wink an eye, the palace stood before him.

Then the steed said to the youth: “When we reach the palace thou wilt
tie the bridle to two iron gates, and when I neigh once and strike my
iron hoofs together, a door will open. In this open door thou wilt see a
lion’s throat, and if thou canst not kill that lion at one stroke,
escape, or thou art a dead man.” With that they went up to the palace,
he tied the horse to the two iron gates by his bridle, and when he
neighed the door flew open. The youth struck with all his might at the
gaping throat of the lion in the doorway and split it right in two. Then
he cut open the lion’s belly, and drew out of it a little gold cage with
three doves in it, so beautiful that the like of them is not to be
found in the wide world. He took one of them and began softly stroking
and caressing it, when all at once--pr-r-r-r!--away it flew out of his
hand. The steed galloped swiftly after it, and if he had not caught it
and wrung its neck it would have gone hard with the good youth.

Then he mounted his steed again, and in the twinkling of an eye he stood
once more before Champalak’s palace. In the gateway of the palace he
killed the second dove, so that when the youth entered the dragon’s
room, there the monster lay quite helpless, and there was no more spirit
in him at all. When he saw the dove in the youth’s hand he implored him
to let him stroke it for the last time before he died. The youth’s heart
felt for him, and he was just about to hand the bird to him when the
princess rushed out, snatched the dove from his hand, and killed it,
whereupon the dragon expired before their very eyes. “‘Twas well for
thee,” said the steed, “that thou didst not give him the dove, for if he
had got it, fresh life would have flowed into him.” And with that the
steed disappeared, bridle and all.

Then they got together the dragon’s treasures, and went with them to the
Empire of Chin-i-Machin. The Padishah was sick for grief at the loss of
the damsel, and after searching for her in all parts of the kingdom in
vain, was persuaded that she had fallen into the hands of the dragon.
And lo! there she stood before him now, hand in hand with the King’s
son. Then there was such a marriage-feast in that city that it seemed as
if there was no end to it. After the marriage they set out on their
journey again, and travelled with a great escort of soldiers to the
prince’s father. There they had long held the King’s son to be dead, and
would not believe that it was he even now till he had told them the tale
of the three seven-headed dragons and the forty damsels.

The fortieth damsel was waiting patiently for him there, and the prince
said to his wife: “Behold now my second bride!”--“Thou didst save my
life from the dragon,” replied the Princess of Chin-i-Machin, “I
therefore give her to thee, do as thou wilt with her!” So they made a
marriage-feast for the second bride also, and they spent half their days
in the Empire of the prince’s father, and the other half in the Empire
of Chin-i-Machin, and their lives flowed away in happiness.

[12] Turkish for the Chinese Empire.