Читать книгу Sagas from the Far East; or, Kalmouk and Mongolian Traditionary Tales - Various - Страница 5

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O thou most perfect Master and Teacher of Wisdom and Goodness! Teacher, second only to the incomparable Shâkjamuni1! Thou accomplished Nâgârg′una2! Thou who wast intimately acquainted with the Most-pure Tripîtaka3, and didst evolve from it thy wise madhjamika4, containing the excellent paramârtha5! Before thee I prostrate myself! Hail! Nâgârg′una O!

It is even the wonderful and astounding history of the deeds of the Well-and-wise-walking Khan, which he performed under the help and direction of this same Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una, that I propose to relate in the form of the following series of narratives.

In the kingdom of Magadha6 there once lived seven brothers who were magicians. At the distance of a mile from their abode lived two brothers, sons of a Khan. The elder of these went to the seven magicians, saying, “Teach me to understand your art,” and abode with them seven years. But though they were always setting him to learn difficult tasks, yet they never taught him the true key to their mystic knowledge. His brother, however, coming to visit him one day, by merely looking through a crack in the door of the apartment where the seven brothers were at work acquired perfectly the whole krijâvidja7.

After this they both went home together, the elder because he perceived he would never learn any thing of the magicians, and the younger because he had learnt every thing they had to impart.

As they went along the younger brother said, “Now that we know all their art the seven magicians will probably seek to do us some mischief. Go thou, therefore, to our stable, which we left empty, and thou shalt find there a splendid steed. Put a rein on him and lead him forth to sell him, only take care thou go not in the direction of the dwelling of the seven magicians; and, having sold him, bring back the price thou shalt have received.”

When he had made an end of speaking he transformed himself into a horse, and went and placed himself in the stable against his brother arrived.

But the elder brother, knowing the magicians had taught him nothing, stood in no fear of them. Therefore he did not according to the words of his brother; but saying within himself, “As my brother is so clever that he could conjure this fine horse into the stable, let him conjure thither another if he wants it sold. This one I will ride myself.” Accordingly he saddled and mounted the horse. All his efforts to guide him were vain, however, and in spite of his best endeavours the horse, impelled by the power of the magic of them from whom the art had been learnt, carried him straight to the door of the magicians’ dwelling. Once there he was equally unable to induce him to stir away; the horse persistently stood still before the magicians’ door. When he found he could not in any way command the horse, he determined to sell it to these same magicians, and he offered it to them, asking a great price for it.

The magicians at once recognized that it was a magic horse, and they said, among themselves, “If our art is to become thus common, and every body can produce a magic horse, no one will come to our market for wonders. We had best buy the horse up and destroy it.” Accordingly they paid the high price required and took possession of the horse and shut it up in a dark stall. When the time came to slaughter it, one held it down by the tail, another by the head, other four by the four legs, so that it should in nowise break away, while the seventh bared his arm ready to strike it with death.

When the Khan’s son, who was transformed into the horse, had learnt what was the intention of the magicians, he said, “Would that any sort of a living being would appear into which I might transform myself.”

Hardly had he formed the wish when a little fish was seen swimming down the stream: into this the Khan transformed himself. The seven magicians knew what had occurred, and immediately transformed themselves into seven larger fish and pursued it. When they were very close to the little fish, with their gullets wide open, the Khan said, within himself, “Would that any sort of living being would appear into which I might transform myself.” Immediately a dove was seen flying in the heavens, and the Khan transformed himself into the dove. The seven magicians, seeing what was done, transformed themselves into seven hawks, pursuing the dove over hill and dale. Once again they were near overtaking him, when the dove took refuge in the Land Bede8. Southward in Bede was a shining mountain and a cave within it called “Giver of Rest.” Hither the dove took refuge, even in the very bosom of the Great Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una.

The seven hawks came thither also, fast flying behind the dove; but, arrived at the entrance of Nâgârg′una’s cave, they showed themselves once more as men, clothed in cotton garments.

Then spoke the great Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una, “Wherefore, O dove, flutterest thou so full of terror, and what are these seven hawks to thee?”

So the Khan’s son told the Master all that had happened between himself, his brother, and the seven magicians; and he added these words, “Even now there stand before the entrance of this cave seven men clothed in cotton garments. These men will come in unto the Master and pray for the boon of the ârâmela he holds in his hand. Meantime, I will transform myself into the large bead of the ârâmela, and when the Master would reach the chaplet to the seven men, I pray him that, putting one end of it in his mouth, he bite in twain the string of the same, whereby all the beads shall be set free.”

The Master benevolently did even as he had been prayed. Moreover, when all the beads fell showering on the ground, behold they were all turned into little worms, and the seven men clothed in cotton garments transformed themselves into seven fowls, who pecked up the worms. But when the Master dropped the large bead out of his mouth on to the ground it was transformed into the form of a man having a staff in his hand. With this staff the Khan’s son killed the seven fowls, but the moment they were dead they bore the forms of men’s corpses.

Then spoke the Master. “This is evil of thee. Behold, while I gave thee protection for thy one life, thou hast taken the lives of these men, even of these seven. In this hast thou done evil.”

But the Khan’s son answered, “To protect my life there was no other means save to take the life of these seven, who had vowed to kill me. Nevertheless, to testify my thanks to the Master for his protection, and to take this sin from off my head, behold I am ready to devote myself to whatever painful and difficult enterprise the Master will be pleased to lay upon me.”

“Then,” said the Master, “if this is so, betake thyself to the cool grove, even to the cîtavana9, where is the Siddhî-kür10. From his waist upwards he is of gold, from his waist downwards of emerald; his head is of mother-of-pearl, decked with a shining crown. Thus is he made. Him if thou bring unto me from his Mango-tree11, thou shalt have testified thy gratitude for my protection and shalt have taken this sin that thou hast committed from off thy head; for so shall I be able, when I have the Siddhî-kür in subjection under me, to bring forth gold in abundance, to give lives of a thousand years’ duration to the men of Gambudvîpa12, and to perform all manner of wonderful works.”

“Behold, I am ready to do even as according to thy word,” answered the Khan’s son. “Tell me only the way I have to take and the manner and device whereby I must proceed.”

Then spoke the great Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una, again, saying—

“When thou shalt have wandered forth hence for the distance of about an hundred miles, thou shalt come to a dark and fearsome ravine where lie the bodies of the giant-dead. At thy approach they shall all rise up and surround thee. But thou call out to them, ‘Ye giant-dead, hala hala svâhâ13!’ scattering abroad at the same time these barley-corns, consecrated by the power of magic art, and pass on thy way without fear.

About another hundred miles’ space farther hence thou shalt come to a smooth mead by the side of a river where lie the bodies of the pigmy-dead. At thy approach they shall all rise up and surround thee. But thou cry out to them, ‘Ye pigmy-dead, hulu hulu svâhâ!’ and, strewing thine offering of barley-corns, again pass on thy way without fear.

At a hundred miles’ space farther along thou shalt come to a garden of flowers having a grove of trees and a fountain in the midst; here lie the bodies of the child-dead. At thy approach they shall rise up and running together surround thee. But thou cry out to them, ‘Ye child-dead, rira phad!’ and, strewing thine offering of barley-corns, again pass on thy way without fear.

Out of the midst of these the Siddhî-kür will rise and will run away from before thee till he reaches his mango-tree, climbing up to the summit thereof. Then thou swing on high the axe which I will give thee, even the axe White Moon14, and make as though thou wouldst hew down the tree in very truth. Rather than let thee hew the mango-tree he will come down. Then seize him and bind him in this sack of many colours, in which is place for to stow away an hundred, enclose the mouth thereof tight with this cord, twisted of an hundred threads of different colours, make thy meal off this cake which never grows less, place the sack upon thy shoulder, and bring him hither to me. Only beware that by the way thou open not thy lips to speak!

“And now, hitherto hast thou been called the Khan’s son, but now, since thou hast found thy way even to the cave ‘Giver of Rest,’ thou shalt be called no more the Khan’s son, but ‘the Well-and-wise-walking Khan.’ Go now thy way.”

When the Master, Nâgârg′una, had given him this new name, he further provided him with all the provisions for the undertaking which he had promised him, and, pointing out the way, dismissed him in peace.

When the Well-and-wise-walking Khan had overcome all the alarms and difficulties of the way, and come in sight of the Siddhî-kür, he set out swiftly to pursue him; but the Siddhî-kür was swifter than he, and, reaching the mango-tree, clambered up to the summit. Then said the Well-and-wise-walking Khan, “Behold, I come in the name of the great Master and Teacher, Nâgârg′una. My axe is the axe ‘White Moon,’ my provision for the journey is the cake which never diminishes, my prison is the sack of many colours, in which is place to stow away an hundred, my cord is the cord twisted of an hundred threads of different colours, I myself am called the Well-and-wise-walking Khan; I command thee, therefore, Siddhî-kür, that thou come down hither to me, otherwise with my axe ‘White Moon’ will I fell the mango-tree.”

At these words the Siddhî-kür cried, in answer, “Fell not the mango-tree. Rather will I come down to thee.” With that he came down, and the Khan, taking him, put him in his sack of many colours, in which was place to stow away an hundred, then he made the mouth fast with the cord twisted of an hundred threads of various colours, made his meal 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:—