Vikram and the Vampire

This time Vajramukut did not defend talent.

‘And your slave did his best to warn you against perfidy. But now my heart is at rest. I have tried her strength. She has attempted and failed; the defeat will prevent her attempting again – just yet. But let me ask you to put to yourself one question. Can you be happy without her?’

‘Brother!’ replied the prince, after a pause, ‘I cannot;’ and he blushed as he made the avowal.

‘Well,’ replied the other, ‘better confess than conceal that fact; we must now meet her on the battlefield, and beat her at her own weapons – cunning. I do not willingly begin treachery with women, because, in the first place, I don’t like it; and secondly, I know that they will certainly commence practising it upon me, after which I hold myself justified in deceiving them. And probably this will be a good wife; remember that she intended to poison me, not you. During the last month my fear has been lest my prince had run into the tiger’s brake. Tell me, my lord, when does the princess expect you to return to her?’

‘She bade me,’ said the young Raja, ‘not return till my mind was quite at ease upon the subject of my talented friend.’

‘This means that she expects you back to-morrow night, as you cannot enter the palace before. And now I will retire to my cot, as it is there that I am wont to ponder over my plans. Before dawn my thought shall mature one which must place the beautiful Padmavati in your power.’

‘A word before parting,’ exclaimed the prince: ‘you know my father has already chosen a spouse for me; what will he say if I bring home a second?’

‘In my humble opinion,’ said the minister’s son, rising to retire, ‘woman is a monogamous, man a polygamous creature, a fact scarcely established in physiological theory, but very observable in everyday practice. For what said the poet? —

Divorce, friend! Re-wed thee! The spring draweth near,[68 - Parceque c’est la saison des amours.]
And a wife’s but an almanac – good for the year.

If your royal father say anything to you, refer him to what he himself does.’

Reassured by these words, Vajramukut bade his friend a cordial good-night and sought his cot, where he slept soundly, despite the emotions of the last few hours. The next day passed somewhat slowly. In the evening, when accompanying his master to the palace, the minister’s son gave him the following directions.

‘Our object, dear my lord, is how to obtain possession of the princess. Take, then, this trident, and hide it carefully, when you see her show the greatest love and affection. Conceal what has happened, and when she, wondering at your calmness, asks about me, tell her that last night I was weary and out of health, that illness prevented my eating her sweetmeats, but that I shall eat them for supper to-night. When she goes to sleep, then, taking off her jewels and striking her left leg with the trident, instantly come away to me. But should she lie awake, rub upon your thumb a little of this – do not fear, it is only a powder of grubs fed on verdigris – and apply it to her nostrils. It would make an elephant senseless, so be careful how you approach it to your own face.’

Vajramukut embraced his friend, and passed safely through the palace gate. He found Padmavati awaiting him; she fell upon his bosom and looked into his eyes, and deceived herself, as clever women will do. Overpowered by her joy and satisfaction, she now felt certain that her lover was hers eternally, and that her treachery had not been discovered; so the beautiful princess fell into a deep sleep.

Then Vajramukut lost no time in doing as the minister’s son had advised, and slipped out of the room, carrying off Padmavati’s jewels and ornaments. His counsellor having inspected them, took up a sack and made signs to his master to follow him. Leaving the horses and baggage at the nurse’s house, they walked to a burning-place outside the city. The minister’s son there buried his dress, together with that of the prince, and drew from the sack the costume of a religious ascetic: he assumed this himself, and gave to his companion that of a disciple. Then quoth the guru (spiritual preceptor) to his chela (pupil), ‘Go, youth, to the bazaar, and sell these jewels, remembering to let half the jewellers in the place see the things, and if any one lay hold of thee, bring him to me.’

Upon which, as day had dawned, Vajramukut carried the princess’s ornaments to the market, and entering the nearest goldsmith’s shop, offered to sell them, and asked what they were worth. As your majesty well knows, gardeners, tailors, and goldsmiths are proverbially dishonest, and this man was no exception to the rule. He looked at the pupil’s face and wondered, because he had brought articles whose value he did not appear to know. A thought struck him that he might make a bargain which would fill his coffers, so he offered about a thousandth part of the price. This the pupil rejected, because he wished the affair to go further. Then the goldsmith, seeing him about to depart, sprang up and stood in the doorway, threatening to call the officers of justice if the young man refused to give up the valuables which he said had lately been stolen from his shop. As the pupil only laughed at this, the goldsmith thought seriously of executing his threat, hesitating only because he knew that the officers of justice would gain more than he could by that proceeding. As he was still in doubt a shadow darkened his shop, and in entered the chief jeweller of the city. The moment the ornaments were shown to him he recognised them, and said, ‘These jewels belong to Raja Dantawat’s daughter; I know them well, as I set them only a few months ago!’ Then he turned to the disciple, who still held the valuables in his hand, and cried, ‘Tell me truly whence you received them.’

While they were thus talking, a crowd of ten or twenty persons had collected, and at length the report reached the superintendent of the archers. He sent a soldier to bring before him the pupil, the goldsmith, and the chief jeweller, together with the ornaments. And when all were in the hall of justice, he looked at the jewels and said to the young man, ‘Tell me truly, whence have you obtained these?’

‘My spiritual preceptor,’ said Vajramukut, pretending great fear, ‘who is now worshipping in the cemetery outside the town, gave me these white stones, with an order to sell them. How know I whence he obtained them? Dismiss me, my lord, for I am an innocent man.’

‘Let the ascetic be sent for,’ commanded the kotwal.[69 - The police magistrate, the Catual of Camoens.] Then, having taken both of them, along with the jewels, into the presence of King Dantawat, he related the whole circumstances.

‘Master!’ said the king on hearing the statement, ‘whence have you obtained these jewels?’

The spiritual preceptor, before deigning an answer, pulled from under his arm the hide of a black antelope, which he spread out and smoothed deliberately before using it as an asan.[70 - The seat of a Hindu ascetic.] He then began to finger a rosary of beads each as large as an egg, and after spending nearly an hour in mutterings and in rollings of the head, he looked fixedly at the Raja, and replied:

‘By Shiva! great king, they are mine own! On the fourteenth of the dark half of the moon at night, I had gone into a place where dead bodies are burned, for the purpose of accomplishing a witch’s incantation. After long and toilsome labour she appeared, but her demeanour was so unruly that I was forced to chastise her. I struck her with this, my trident, on the left leg, if memory serves me. As she continued to be refractory, in order to punish her I took off all her jewels and clothes, and told her to go where she pleased. Even this had little effect upon her – never have I looked upon so perverse a witch. In this way the jewels came into my possession.’

Raja Dantawat was stunned by these words. He begged the ascetic not to leave the palace for a while, and forthwith walked into the private apartments of the women. Happening first to meet the queen dowager, he said to her, ‘Go, without losing a minute, O my mother, and look at Padmavati’s left leg, and see if there is a mark or not, and what sort of a mark!’ Presently she returned, and coming to the king said, ‘Son, I find thy daughter lying upon her bed, and complaining that she has met with an accident; and, indeed, Padmavati must be in great pain. I found that some sharp instrument with three points had wounded her. The girl says that a nail hurt her, but I never yet heard of a nail making three holes. However, we must all hasten, or there will be erysipelas, tumefaction, gangrene, mortification, amputation, and perhaps death in the house,’ concluded the old queen, hurrying away in the pleasing anticipation of these ghastly consequences.

For a moment King Dantawat’s heart was ready to break. But he was accustomed to master his feelings; he speedily applied the reins of reflection to the wild steed of passion. He thought to himself, ‘the affairs of one’s household, the intentions of one’s heart, and whatever one’s losses may be, should not be disclosed to any one. Since Padmavati is a witch, she is no longer my daughter. I will verily go forth and consult the spiritual preceptor.’

With these words the king went outside, where the guru was still sitting upon his black hide, making marks with his trident on the floor. Having requested that the pupil might be sent away, and having cleared the room, he said to the jogi, ‘O holy man! what punishment for the heinous crime of witchcraft is awarded to a woman in the Dharma-Shastra?’[71 - The Hindu scriptures.]

‘Great king!’ replied the devotee, ‘in the Dharma-Shastra it is thus written: “If a Brahman, a cow, a woman, a child, or any other person whatsoever, who may be dependent on us, should be guilty of a perfidious act, their punishment is that they be banished the country.” However much they may deserve death, we must not spill their blood, as Lakshmi[72 - The Goddess of Prosperity.] flies in horror from the deed.’

Hearing these words the Raja dismissed the guru with many thanks and large presents. He waited till nightfall and then ordered a band of trusty men to seize Padmavati without alarming the household, and to carry her into a distant jungle full of fiends, tigers, and bears, and there to abandon her.

In the meantime, the ascetic and his pupil, hurrying to the cemetery, resumed their proper dresses; they then went to the old nurse’s house, rewarded her hospitality till she wept bitterly, girt on their weapons, and mounting their horses, followed the party which issued from the gate of King Dantawat’s palace. And it may easily be believed that they found little difficulty in persuading the poor girl to exchange her chance in the wild jungle for the prospect of becoming Vajramukut’s wife – lawfully wedded – at Benares. She did not even ask if she was to have a rival in the house, – a question which women, you know, never neglect to put under usual circumstances. After some days the two pilgrims of one love arrived at the house of their fathers, and to all, both great and small, excess in joy came.

‘Now, Raja Vikram!’ said the Baital, ‘you have not spoken much; doubtless you are engrossed by the interest of a story wherein a man beats a woman at her own weapon – deceit. But I warn you that you will assuredly fall into Narak (the infernal regions) if you do not make up your mind upon and explain this matter. Who was the most to blame amongst these four? the lover,[73 - In the original the lover is not blamed; this would be the Hindu view of the matter; we might be tempted to think of the old injunction not to seethe a kid in the mother’s milk.] the lover’s friend, the girl, or the father?’

‘For my part I think Padmavati was the worst, she being at the bottom of all their troubles,’ cried Dharma Dhwaj. The king said something about young people and the two senses of seeing and hearing, but his son’s sentiment was so sympathetic that he at once pardoned the interruption. At length, determined to do justice despite himself, Vikram said, ‘Raja Dantawat is the person most at fault.’

‘In what way was he at fault?’ asked the Baital curiously.

King Vikram gave him this reply: ‘The Prince Vajramukut being tempted of the love-god was insane, and therefore not responsible for his actions. The minister’s son performed his master’s business obediently, without considering causes or asking questions – a very excellent quality in a dependant who is merely required to do as he is bid. With respect to the young woman, I have only to say that she was a young woman, and thereby of necessity a possible murderess. But the Raja, a prince, a man of a certain age and experience, a father of eight! He ought never to have been deceived by so shallow a trick, nor should he, without reflection, have banished his daughter from the country.’

‘Gramercy to you!’ cried the Vampire, bursting into a discordant shout of laughter, ‘I now return to my tree. By my tail! I never yet heard a Raja so readily condemn a Raja.’

With these words he slipped out of the cloth, leaving it to hang empty over the great king’s shoulder.

Vikram stood for a moment, fixed to the spot with blank dismay. Presently, recovering himself, he retraced his steps, followed by his son, ascended the siras-tree, tore down the Baital, packed him up as before, and again set out upon his way.

Soon afterwards a voice sounded behind the warrior king’s back, and began to tell another true story.

THE VAMPIRE’S SECOND STORY.

OF THE RELATIVE VILLANY OF MEN AND WOMEN

In the great city of Bhogavati dwelt, once upon a time, a young prince, concerning whom I may say that he strikingly resembled this amiable son of your majesty.

Raja Vikram was silent, nor did he acknowledge the Baital’s indirect compliment. He hated flattery, but he liked, when flattered, to be flattered in his own person; a feature in their royal patron’s character which the Nine Gems of Science had turned to their own account.

Now the young prince Raja Ram (continued the tale teller) had an old father, concerning whom I may say that he was exceedingly unlike your Rajaship, both as a man and as a parent. He was fond of hunting, dicing, sleeping by day, drinking at night, and eating perpetual tonics, while he delighted in the idleness of watching nautch girls, and the vanity of falling in love. But he was adored by his children because he took the trouble to win their hearts. He did not lay it down as a law of heaven that his offspring would assuredly go to Patala if they neglected the duty of bestowing upon him without cause all their affections, as your moral, virtuous, and highly respectable fathers are only too apt – . Aïe! aïe!

These sounds issued from the Vampire’s lips as the warrior king, speechless with wrath, passed his hand behind his back, and viciously twisted up a pinch of the speaker’s skin. This caused the Vampire to cry aloud, more however, it would appear, in derision than in real suffering, for he presently proceeded with the same subject.

Fathers, great king, may be divided into three kinds; and be it said aside, that mothers are the same. Firstly, we have the parent of many ideas, amusing, pleasant, of course poor, and the idol of his children. Secondly, there is the parent with one idea and a half. This sort of man would, in your place, say to himself, ‘That demon-fellow speaks a manner of truth. I am not above learning from him, despite his position in life. I will carry out his theory, just to see how far it goes;’ and so saying, he wends his way home, and treats his young ones with prodigious kindness for a time, but it is not lasting. Thirdly, there is the real one-idea’d type of parent – yourself, O warrior king Vikram, an admirable example. You learn in youth what you are taught: for instance, the blessed precept that the green stick is of the trees of Paradise; and in age you practise what you have learned. You cannot teach yourselves anything before your beards sprout, and when they grow stiff you cannot be taught by others. If any one attempt to change your opinions you cry,

What is new is not true,
What is true is not new,

and you rudely pull his hand from the subject. Yet have you your uses like other things of earth. In life you are good working camels for the mill-track, and when you die your ashes are not worse compost than those of the wise.

Your Rajaship will observe (continued the Vampire, as Vikram began to show symptoms of ungovernable anger) that I have been concise in treating this digression. Had I not been so, it would have led me far indeed from my tale. Now to return.

When the old king became air mixed with air, the young king, though he found hardly ten pieces of silver in the paternal treasury and legacies for thousands of golden ounces, yet mourned his loss with the deepest grief. He easily explained to himself the reckless emptiness of the royal coffers as a proof of his dear kind parent’s goodness, because he loved him.

But the old man had left behind him, as he could not carry it off with him, a treasure more valuable than gold and silver: one Churaman, a parrot, who knew the world, and who besides discoursed in the most correct Sanskrit. By sage counsel and wise guidance this admirable bird soon repaired his young master’s shattered fortunes.

One day the prince said, ‘Parrot, thou knowest everything: tell me where there is a mate fit for me. The shastras inform us, respecting the choice of a wife, “She who is not descended from his paternal or maternal ancestors within the sixth degree is eligible by a high caste man for nuptials. In taking a wife let him studiously avoid the following families, be they ever so great, or ever so rich in kine, goats, sheep, gold, or grain: the family which has omitted prescribed acts of devotion; that which has produced no male children; that in which the Veda (scripture) has not been read; that which has thick hair on the body; and that in which members have been subject to hereditary disease. Let a person choose for his wife a girl whose person has no defect; who has an agreeable name; who walks gracefully, like a young elephant; whose hair and teeth are moderate in quantity and in size; and whose body is of exquisite softness.”’

‘Great king,’ responded the parrot Churaman, ‘there is in the country of Magadh a Raja, Magadheshwar by name, and he has a daughter called Chandravati. You will marry her; she is very learned, and, what is better far, very fair. She is of yellow colour, with a nose like the flower of the sesamum; her legs are taper, like the plantain-tree; her eyes are large, like the principal leaf of the lotus; her eyebrows stretch towards her ears; her lips are red, like the young leaves of the mango-tree; her face is like the full moon; her voice is like the sound of the cuckoo; her arms reach to her knees; her throat is like the pigeon’s; her flanks are thin, like those of the lion; her hair hangs in curls only down to her waist; her teeth are like the seeds of the pomegranate; and her gait is that of the drunken elephant or the goose.’