Folklia - The Warmest Gift for Childhood

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.