Chapter III: Part I: Georgian Folk Tales (1)

I

MASTER AND PUPIL

(OR THE DEVIL OUTWITTED)

Once upon a time there was a poor peasant who had one son. And it came to pass that his wife said to him: 'He should learn some trade, for when he is separated from thee, what will he do if he is left ignorant like thee?' The wife importuned him; she gave him no rest. So the peasant took his child, and went to seek a master for him. On the way they were thirsty. He saw a rivulet, drank eagerly till his thirst was quenched, and when he lifted up his head he cried out: 'Ah! how good thou art!' [2] On saying this, there came forth from the water a devil in the form of a man, and said to the peasant: 'What dost thou want, O man! I am Vakhraca; what troubles thee?' The peasant told him all his story. The devil, when he learnt this, said: 'Give me this son of thine: I will teach him for one year, then come hither; if thou knowest him, it is well, he will go with thee; if not, he is mine and mine alone, he shall be lost to thee.'

Now this devil had other children to bring up on the same conditions; and, since in a year children change so much that their parents may no longer know them, the devil always had the best of it. The peasant knew nothing about this; he agreed to the proposal, and went home. A year passed by, and the father of the child came to the devil; he did not find the devil at home. He saw in the courtyard a multitude of boys, and looked again and again, but could not recognise his boy. He was sad. However, his own son came up and knew him. Then the boy said: 'Presently my instructor will come; he will turn us all into doves, and we shall fly away; in the flight I shall fly before all, and in the return I shall be behind all; and when my master asks thee which is thy son, thou wilt point to me.' The peasant rejoiced, and awaited the master with a hopeful heart. In a little while the master appeared. He called his pupils, turned them into doves, and ordered them to fly away. The peasant's son flew before all, and when they returned remained behind. The master inquired: 'Now, dost thou know which is thy son?' The peasant pointed him out. The devil was enraged when he perceived the trick his pupil had played him, but what did it matter! The boy left him.

The father went and took his son with him. They came to a place where nobles were hunting: some greyhounds were pursuing a hare, but they could not catch it. The boy said to his father: 'Go thou into the wood, raise a hare. I will turn into a hound, and will seize it before the eyes of these nobles. The nobles will follow thee, and will be anxious to buy me. Ask a high price, and sell me to them. Then I shall seize the first opportunity to escape, and overtake thee on the road.' The father went into the wood and started a hare; his son turned into a hound, pursued the hare, and, just before the eyes of the nobles, he pounced on it. They crowded round the peasant, and insisted upon buying the dog. The peasant asked a high price, which they paid in exchange for the hound. The nobles attached a cord to the dog, and went away. When they had travelled a little way along the road a hare started from the thicket. They let the hound loose, and sent him after it. When he had chased the hare a long way, and had lost sight of the nobles, he changed again into a boy, and followed his father.

The father and son went on their way; the money seemed inadequate. 'I must get some more,' said the son. They looked round; another party of nobles were pursuing a pheasant; the falcons flew after it, but for some reason could not catch it. The boy changed himself into a falcon, and sported with the pheasant in the air, just before the nobles' eyes. He brought it down; they were frantic with pleasure, and said to the peasant: 'Thou must sell this falcon to us.' The peasant again fixed a high price, to which the nobles agreed, and this they paid him in exchange for the falcon. The peasant went on his way. The nobles, after travelling some distance, sent the falcon in pursuit of another pheasant. The falcon flew after the bird, and, when he was out of the nobles' sight, changed into a boy and joined his father.

The father and son went on with their money, but the son was not content with it. He said to his father: 'Come, I will change into a splendid horse; mount me, go into a town and sell me. But remember not to sell me to a man with variegated eyes; if thou dost, do not give him the bridle, for then, thou knowest, I shall not be able to free myself from his hands.' On saying this, the boy changed into a splendid, spirited horse, his father mounted and rode into the town. Here he saw many who wanted to buy it, but more eager than any was a man with variegated eyes. Whenever any one added a manethi (rouble) to the price, he added a thuman (ten roubles). Love of money conquered the peasant, and he sold the horse to the man with variegated eyes. He bought the bridle with it, mounted the horse and spurred it on. He went, disappeared, and could no longer contain his joy that he had his pupil once more in his power. He reached home, shut the horse in a dark room, and locked the door. His pupil lay down and was sad; he thought and grieved, but there seemed to be no help for him; time passed, and he could contrive no means of escape.

One day he noticed that a sunbeam entered the stable through a hole. He changed himself into a mouse and ran out. His master saw him, however, and pursued him as a cat. The mouse ran, the cat followed. Just when the cat was about to seize him in his mouth, the mouse turned into a fish swimming in a stream. The master turned into a net and followed him; the fish swam away, but the net came after him. Just when the net was going to cover him, the fish changed into a pheasant and flew away. The master pursued him as a falcon. The pheasant flew on and the falcon followed. When the falcon was about to put its claws into him, he turned into a red apple, and rolled into the king's lap. The falcon changed into a knife in the king's hand. Just when the king was going to cut the apple, it changed into a codi (80 lbs.) of millet spread on a cloth. The devil changed himself into a brood-hen, and began to eat it. When it had eaten almost all, and only left one grain, this grain turned into a needle, and rolled in front of the hen, which changed into a thread in the eye of the needle. As it was about to hold back the needle, the needle ran into the fire and burned the thread. The boy thus escaped from the devil, went home to his father, and lived happily ever afterwards. [3]

II

THE THREE SISTERS AND THEIR STEPMOTHER

Once upon a time there was a peasant who had three daughters. This man's wife was dead, so he took to himself another. The stepmother hated the girls like the plague. Every day she bothered her husband, saying: 'Take away these daughters of thine, and get rid of them.' Sometimes she yielded to their father's entreaties, sometimes she gave way to her dislike. At last she could bear it no longer: she became ill, went to bed, took with her crisp, flat bread, and began to moan. She turned on one side, made the loaves crack, and cried out: 'My sides are breaking. Oh! turn me on my other side!' The cause of all this was her stepdaughters, so her husband, seeing that nothing was to be done, consented to get rid of them.

He went away into the forest. There he saw a large apple-tree bearing fruit; underneath it he dug a deep hole, took an apple for each, and went home. When he came in, he gave each her apple. The girls liked the taste of the apples, and said to their father: 'Where didst thou find these? canst thou not bring some more?' The father replied: 'There are many of these apples in the forest, but I have not time to bring more. If you like, you can come with me; I will shake them down, you can gather them up and bring them away.' The girls were delighted, and went with their father.

Their father had secretly covered up the hole, and said to the girls: 'Here are the apples. I will shake them down, but until I tell you do not gather them up. Then, when I speak, you can all scramble for them, and whoever picks up an apple, it is hers.' The father went up to the tree, and when he had shaken it well, called out to his daughters: 'Now, catch who can!' The girls suddenly rushed on to the covering, which could not bear their weight; it fell into the hole, taking with it the three girls. Their father threw them in a great many apples, left them, and went away.

The girls could not at first understand their father's conduct, but then they saw that he had brought them into the wood on purpose, and said: 'Our wicked stepmother is to blame for this!' but there was no help for it, so these three little maidens sat down and wept. They wept and wept until their faces were pale; their tears shook heaven above and the earth beneath. At last the apples were finished. They thought and thought, and decided that each should let blood from her little finger, and that they should eat her whose blood tasted sweetest. They let blood, and it was agreed by all that the youngest sister's was sweetest. She said: 'O sisters! do not eat me. I have three apples hidden; eat them, and perhaps God will help us.'

Then she bent on her knees, and prayed to God: 'O God, for Thy name's sake, I beseech Thee, let one of my hands turn into a pickaxe, and the other into a shovel.' God heard her prayer. One of her hands changed into a pickaxe, and the other into a shovel. With one hand she dug a hole, and with the other shovelled away the earth. She dug and dug until she came to a mouse's hole. She took thence nuts, little nuts, and gave them to her sisters. She went on digging, and broke down a stable wall. This stable belonged to the king, and almonds and raisins were strewed about in it. The girls used to go to the stable; they stole the almonds and raisins, and ate them. The grooms were astonished, and said: 'Who can it be that steals the almonds and raisins? The horses are dying of starvation.'

The little maiden, in her digging, next broke the window of an old woman's hut. Every morning the mistress of this hut went to mass. Feeling sorry for the old woman, the girls stole into the hut, cleaned and tidied everything, put beans on the fire to cook, broke off sufficient bread for themselves, and stole away again. When the old woman came home she was filled with surprise. Who could have been there and stolen her bread? Perhaps she could find out. She did not go to mass next day. She rolled herself in a mat, and stuck herself up, like a stick, near the door. The girls came; they thought the old woman had gone to mass, and stole into the hut one by one. The old woman watched from the mat with both her eyes, and she could scarcely believe what she saw. She saw the three maidens enter--each more beautiful than the other, all fair, as if the sun had never frowned upon them. She gazed and gazed until she could bear it no longer: she threw off the mat, seized one of them in her arms, and said: 'Who art thou, who art so angelic? Art thou human or an angel?' The maiden replied: 'We are three sisters, we are human. Thus and thus has it befallen us.' And she told their tale to the old woman, who was delighted that she had found the three sisters. She guarded them as the light of her eyes, and, when she went out, turned up baskets over them, that none should see them and take them away.

Once the woman went to mass. She left the girls under baskets, and shut the doors. Then the idea came into the girls' heads that they would like some raisins. They rose, took off the baskets, and crept into the stable. Just as they were beginning to steal raisins, the groom hastened in, seized the three sisters, and took them before the king. The king asked them who they were, and they told him all their history. The king said: 'Tell me, what can you do?' The eldest sister said: 'I can weave such a carpet that every man in thy army could sit on it, and still half of it would not be unrolled.' The second sister said: 'I can cook enough food in an egg-shell to feed thine army, and when they have eaten, half yet shall remain.' The king said to the youngest: 'What canst thou do?' She replied: 'I can bear golden-haired boys.' The king was pleased with this answer, and wedded her. He tried her sisters' skill, but the eldest could not weave a carpet large enough for one man, while the food cooked by the second sister would not have satisfied a bird. The king waxed wroth, and said to his wife: 'If thou deceivest me too, none of you shall live.'

Some time passed, and the youngest sister was with child. At that time the king's enemy came against him, and he prepared to go forth to battle. Before he set out he left this message: 'If my wife bears a son, let a sword be suspended over the door; if she bears a daughter, let a spinning-wheel be hung up.' Shortly after this his wife went to bed. Her sisters would allow no one to enter the bed-room; they tended her and nursed her themselves.

The king's wife brought forth a golden-haired boy. Her two sisters were angry that their youngest sister should be proved truthful in the sight of the king, while they were liars; they wished her also to appear untruthful. They arose, and, without the mother's knowledge, took away the golden-haired boy, and put in his place a puppy dog. They did not dare to kill the child, so they made a box, laid him in it, and put it in a river. The river carried it away, and it stuck in a mill-race. The race was dammed up and the mill stopped. The miller came out, and saw the box fixed in the race; he took it up and opened it. Behold, there lay a golden-haired child! He was childless, so he took it home and brought it up. In the meantime the sisters hung up a pestle over the door. The king returned from the battle and saw the pestle. He was very much surprised, and said: 'What does this mean? what has my wife brought forth?' They said: 'A puppy.' The king was very angry, but thought: 'Perhaps some one has done this; I will wait and see if she has a son.'

A year passed, and his wife was again with child. One day, when the king was out hunting, a golden-haired boy was born. The sisters, as before, would allow no one in the room. They took the child away secretly, and put a kitten in its place. They again put the child in a box in the river, and the miller found it again. The sisters hung the pestle over the door. When the king returned from the chase, and saw the pestle, he burned with fires of rage, and sparks shot from his eyes. He took his wife out, caused her to be wrapped in a bullock's skin, and bound to a column in front of the palace. Every one who passed by was ordered to spit in her face and strike her. Thus unjustly did he torture an innocent being! The miller loved the two golden-haired children as if they were the apple of his eye. They became very wise, brave, and handsome, and grew as much in a day as other children grow in a year.

Once when the king was out hunting, he saw a group of children playing, but among them were two who far excelled the others. The king was very much taken with these two children, and could not withdraw his eyes from them. He looked and looked, and would never have been tired of looking; he wished to gaze on them for ever. He noticed how strongly they resembled himself. He was astonished, and said to himself: 'Who can these children be, who are so like myself?' But he could not guess the truth. Just then, while playing, the cap fell from the head of one of the brothers, and showed his golden hair. The king was struck, and inquired: 'Whose children are these?' He was told they were the miller's sons.

The next day the king gave a banquet, and invited the miller and his golden-haired sons. When the children came into the king's courtyard, they saw a woman bound to a column, and they looked long, and knew that this must be their mother. The cook was roasting a pheasant. The elder brother went inside, took the spit from the cook, sat down by the fireside, and turned the pheasant round. When it became red and was cooked, he began to tell a tale. All ears were pricked up, and the people looked into his face. The boy began to tell his mother's tale. After he had told how his mother bore the golden-haired boys, and how the sisters were so treacherous, he concluded by saying: 'If this story is true, the bullock's skin will burst, and my mother be free.' And the bullock's skin burst, and his mother came in.

When the story was quite finished, his younger brother came in and took the spit in his hand, and said: 'If all my brother's tale is true and this is indeed our mother, this roast pheasant will have feathers and fly away.' Feathers appeared on the roast pheasant, and it flew off. The people gazed open-mouthed. The astonished king commanded the jealous sisters to be brought, bound them to horses' tails, and had them dragged about. The king took his wife and children into the palace, and rejoiced greatly that he had learnt the truth and found his golden-haired sons. [4]

III

THE GOOD-FOR-NOTHING

There was once a good-for-nothing man, who had a shrewish wife. This wife would give him no rest. She importuned him, saying: 'Thou must go away, travel forth and seek for something; thou seest how poor we are.' At last the husband could no longer bear her reproaches, so he arose and went.

He went forth, he himself knew not whither he was going.

He travelled on, and when he had ascended the ninth mountain from where he started, he saw a large house, and in this house devis dwelt. He came near and saw in the middle of the room a fire, round which the devis were sitting, warming their hands. He went in and spoke in a friendly manner to them, and sat down by the fire. The devis treated him well, for he had spoken them fair. He stayed with them by day and by night; he ate with them, he drank with them, he slept with them; he was like their youngest brother.

These devis possessed a wishing-stone. When they were assembled together, they took out the stone: if they wished for dinner, dinner appeared; if they wanted supper, they wished for supper, and lo! what they wished for heartily appeared before their eyes. They lived thus without care, they had no kind of sorrow, and this was just what our good-for-nothing liked; he approved of this life, and wanted to steal the wishing-stone.

Once when the devis were in a deep sleep, the good-for-nothing silently stole out of the bedroom, took the wishing-stone, and came to the door. He wished the door to open, and sure enough it began to creak. It creaked and called out: 'The guest has stolen the wishing-stone.' The good-for-nothing turned back, put the stone in its place, went into the bedroom, and pretended to be asleep. The creaking of the door awoke the devis; they jumped up and looked; they found the wishing-stone in its place, and the good-for-nothing in a sweet slumber. They rejoiced, closed the door, and went to sleep again. When they had fallen into a profound sleep, the good-for-nothing rose up, took the stone, came to the door, and, when he wished it to open, it began to creak out: 'The guest has stolen the wishing-stone.' The good-for-nothing turned back, again put the wishing-stone in its place, went into the bedroom and began to snore as if he were asleep. The devis awoke and looked, but the stone was in its place, and the good-for-nothing snoring. They were surprised, but shut the door, and went to sleep. The good-for-nothing did this trick over and over again. The devis were angry, and furiously jumped up, pulled down the door, and put it in the fire. When the door was burned, and the devis slept again, the good-for-nothing rose up, put the wishing-stone in his pocket, and left the house. The next morning, when the devis awoke, they saw that neither the good-for-nothing nor the wishing-stone was there any longer. They looked everywhere, but could not tell whether heaven or earth had swallowed them, so they learnt nothing.

The good-for-nothing went on his way joyfully; he no longer had any care or thought; he rejoiced that now he could live without trouble. He went on, and met on the road a man with a big stick. This man said: 'Brother, give me something to eat.' The good-for-nothing put his hand in his pocket, and took out the wishing-stone. He wished, and there appeared before them everything ready for eating. When they had finished their meal, the man with the stick said: 'Come, I will exchange my stick with thee for this stone.' 'What is the use of thy stick?' inquired the good-for-nothing. 'If any one stretches out his hand and calls, "Out, stick!" the stick will fall upon the person in front of its master.' The good-for-nothing made the exchange, and went away a short distance; then he said, 'Out, stick!' and stretched it out towards its former master. It struck him until all his bones were made soft. When he had been well beaten, the good-for-nothing came, took his stone, and went on his way with the stick.

He went on and saw a man with a sword, who said: 'Brother, give me something to eat.' The good-for-nothing took out his wishing-stone, and immediately meat and drink appeared before them. When he had eaten sufficiently, the man said: 'Come, I will give thee this sword in exchange for the stone.' 'What is the use of thy sword?' inquired the good-for-nothing. 'Whoever possesses it can, if he choose, cut off a hundred thousand heads.'

He exchanged his wishing-stone for the sword, and went away. After waiting a short time, he said, 'Out, stick!' and pointed to the former owner of the sword. The stick approached and beat the man mercilessly. Then the good-for-nothing took the wishing-stone and went away.

He went on again until he met a man with a piece of felt, who said: 'Brother, give me something to eat.' The good-for-nothing man took out his wishing-stone, wished, and immediately a delicious repast appeared. When he had eaten all he wanted, the man said: 'Come, I will give thee my felt in exchange for this stone.' 'What is the use of thy felt?' inquired the good-for-nothing. 'If a man's head is cut off, one only has to take a piece of this felt and apply it; his head will stick on again, and he will live.' The good-for-nothing gave him the stone, took the felt, and went away. When he had gone a little way, he said, 'Out, stick!' and the stick beat the man till he was like a wrinkled quince. The good-for-nothing took his stone and travelled on.

At last he came to his home. He placed the stick behind the door, greeted his wife and spoke thus: 'Wife, see what I have brought,' and he showed her the sword, felt, and wishing-stone. His wife looked on him with contempt, opened her mouth, and cast all the dirt in the world on his head. The good-for-nothing bore it till he could bear it no longer, so he called, 'Out, stick!' The stick beat her wofully. Then he made his little children sit down, took out his wishing-stone, wished the table to be laid, and the rarest delicacies were placed on the cloth. They enjoyed their dinner, while the beaten wife silently looked down and sulked. She bore it for a time, but at last she could bear it no longer, and came and embraced her husband's knees. Her husband forgave her, and they caressed one another lovingly.

After some time, this wishing-stone made him quite rich, so that all their dishes were made of gold. Once the wife said to her husband: 'Thou must invite the king and give him a great banquet.' Her husband said: 'Dost thou not know, the king is an envious man; when he sees these things, he will take them from us, and put us in prison.' His wife pleaded and whined until her husband consented.

They invited the king, and made ready a magnificent banquet. When the feast was finished, the king demanded the wishing-stone. The good-for-nothing said he could not spare it. The king was enraged, and sent his whole army to take it away by force. 'This will not do at all,' said the good-for-nothing to himself; 'since they are going to try and force me, I shall show my strength.' While he spoke, he pointed the sword at the army, and the stick at the king. The heads of all the army were cut off, and the stick beat the envious king.

The king begged and prayed for mercy: 'Only bring my soldiers back to life again, and I swear I will leave thee in peace.' Then the good-for-nothing arose, took the felt and laid a piece on the neck of each soldier, and the army was restored to life. The king no longer dared to show his enmity, the good-for-nothing's wife obeyed him in everything, and they lived happily ever afterwards.

IV

THE FROG'S SKIN

There were once three brothers who wished to marry. They said: 'Let us each shoot an arrow, and each shall take his wife from the place where the arrow falls.' They shot their arrows; those of the two elder brothers fell on noblemen's houses, while the youngest brother's arrow fell in a lake. The two elder brothers led home their noble wives, and the youngest went to the shore of the lake. He saw a frog creep out of the lake and sit down upon a stone. He took it up and carried it back to the house. All the brothers came home with what fate had given them; the elder brothers with the noble maidens, and the youngest with a frog.

The brothers went out to work, the wives prepared the dinner, and attended to all their household duties; the frog sat by the fire croaking, and its eyes glittered. Thus they lived together a long time in love and harmony.

At last the sisters-in-law wearied of the sight of the frog; when they swept the house, they threw out the frog with the dust. If the youngest brother found it, he took it up in his hand; if not, the frog would leap back to its place by the fire and begin to croak. The noble sisters did not like this, and said to their husbands: 'Drive this frog out, and get a real wife for your brother.' Every day the brothers bothered the youngest. He replied, saying: 'This frog is certainly my fate, I am worthy of no better, I must be faithful to it.' His sisters-in-law persisted in telling their husbands that the brother and his frog must be sent away, and at last they agreed.

The young brother was now left quite desolate: there was no one to make his food, no one to stand watching at the door. For a short time a neighbouring woman came to wait upon him, but she had no time, so he was left alone. The man became very melancholy.

Once when he was thinking sadly of his loneliness, he went to work. When he had finished his day's labour, he went home. He looked into his house and was struck with amazement. The sideboard was well replenished; in one place was spread a cloth, and on the cloth were many different kinds of tempting viands. He looked and saw the frog in its place croaking. He said to himself that his sisters-in-law must have done this for him, and went to his work again. He was out all day working, and when he came home he always found everything prepared for him.

Once he said to himself: 'I will see for once who is this unseen benefactor, who comes to do good to me and look after me.' That day he stayed at home; he seated himself on the roof of the house and watched. In a short time the frog leaped out of the fireplace, jumped over to the doors, and all round the room; seeing no one there, it went back and took off the frog's skin, put it near the fire, and came forth a beautiful maiden, fair as the sun; so lovely was she that man could not imagine anything prettier. In the twinkling of an eye she had tidied everything, prepared the food and cooked it. When everything was ready, she went to the fire, put on the skin again, and began to croak. When the man saw this he was very much astonished; he rejoiced exceedingly that God had granted him such happiness. He descended from the roof, went in, caressed his frog tenderly, and then sat down to his tasty supper.

The next day the man hid himself in the place where he had been the day before. The frog, having satisfied itself that nobody was there, stripped off its skin and began its good work. This time the man stole silently into the house, seized the frog's skin in his hand and threw it into the fire. When the maiden saw this she entreated him, she wept--she said: 'Do not burn it, or thou shalt surely be destroyed'--but the man had burnt it in a moment. 'Now, if thy happiness be turned to misery, it is not my fault,' said the sorrow-stricken woman.

In a very short time the whole country-side knew that the man who had a frog now possessed in its place a lovely woman, who had come to him from heaven.

The lord of the country heard of this, and wished to take her from him. He called the beautiful woman's husband to him and said: 'Sow a barnful of wheat in a day, or give me thy wife.' When he had spoken thus, the man was obliged to consent, and he went home melancholy.

When he went in he told his wife what had taken place. She reproached him, saying: 'I told thee what would happen if thou didst burn the skin, and thou didst not heed me; but I will not blame thee. Be not sad; go in the morning to the edge of the lake from which I came, and call out: "Mother and Father! I pray you, lend me your swift bullocks"--lead them away with thee, and the bullocks will in one day plough the fields and sow the grain.' The husband did this.

He went to the edge of the lake and called out: 'Mother and Father! I entreat you, lend me your swift bullocks to-day.' There came forth from the lake such a team of oxen as was never seen on sea or land.

The youth drove the bullocks away, came to his lord's fields, and ploughed and sowed them in one day.

His lord was very much surprised. He did not know if there was anything impossible to this man, whose wife he wanted. He called him a second time, and said: 'Go and gather up the wheat thou hast sown, that not a grain may be wanting, and that the barn may be full. If thou dost not this, thy wife is mine.'

'This is impossible,' said the man to himself. He went home to his wife, who again reproached him, and then said: 'Go to the lake's edge and ask for the jackdaws.'

The husband went to the edge of the lake and called out: 'Mother and Father! I beg you to lend me your jackdaws to-day.' From the lake came forth flocks of jackdaws; they flew to the ploughed ground, each gathered up a seed and put it into the barn.

The lord came and cried out: 'There is one seed short; I know each one, and one is missing.' At that moment a jackdaw's caw was heard; it came with the missing seed, but owing to a lame foot it was a little late.

The lord was very angry that even the impossible was possible to this man, and could not think what to give him to do.

He puzzled his brain until he thought of the following plan. He called the man and said to him: 'My mother, who died in this village, took with her a ring. If thou goest to the other world and bringest that ring hither to me, it is well; if not, I shall take away thy wife.'

The man said to himself: 'This is quite impossible.' He went home and complained to his wife. She reproached him, and then said: 'Go to the lake and ask for the ram.'

The husband went to the lake and called out: 'Mother and Father! give me your ram to-day, I pray you.' From the lake there came forth a ram with twisted horns; from its mouth issued a flame of fire. It said to the man: 'Mount on my back!'

The man sat down, and, quick as lightning, the ram descended towards the lower regions. It went on and shot like an arrow through the earth.

They travelled on, and saw in one place a man and woman sitting on a bullock's skin, which was not big enough for them, and they were like to fall off. The man called out to them: 'What can be the meaning of this, that this bullock skin is not big enough for two people?' They said: 'We have seen many pass by like thee, but none has returned. When thou comest back we shall answer thy question.'

They went on their way and saw a man and woman sitting on an axe-handle, and they were not afraid of falling. The man called out to them: 'Are you not afraid of falling from the handle of an axe?' They said to him: 'We have seen many pass by like thee, but none has returned. When thou comest back we shall answer thy question.'

They went on their way again, until they came to a place where they saw a priest feeding cattle. This priest had such a long beard that it spread over the ground, and the cattle, instead of eating grass, fed on the priest's beard, and he could not prevent it. The man called out: 'Priest, what is the meaning of this? why is thy beard pasture for these cattle?' The priest replied: 'I have seen many pass by like thee, but none has returned. When thou comest back I shall answer thy question.'

They journeyed on again until they came to a place where they saw nothing but boiling pitch, and a flame came forth from it--and this was hell. The ram said: 'Sit firmly on my back, for we must pass through this fire.' The man held fast, the ram gave a leap, and they escaped through the fire unhurt.

There they saw a melancholy woman seated on a golden throne. She said: 'What is it, my child? what troubles thee? what has brought thee here?' He told her everything that had happened to him. She said: 'I must punish this very wicked child of mine, and thou must take him a casket from me.' She gave him a casket, and said: 'Whatever thou dost, do not open this casket thyself, take it with thee, give it to thy lord, and run quickly away from him.'

The man took the casket and went away. He came to the place where the priest was feeding the cattle. The priest said: 'I promised thee an answer; hearken unto my words. In life I loved nothing but myself, I cared for nought else. My flocks I fed on other pastures than my own, and the neighbouring cattle died of starvation; now I am paying the penalty.'

Then he went on to the place where the man and woman were sitting on the handle of the axe. They said: 'We promised thee an answer; hearken unto our words. We loved each other too well on earth, and it is the same with us here.' [5]

Then he came to the two seated on the bullock skin, which was not big enough for them. They said: 'We promised thee an answer; hearken unto our words. We despised each other in life, and we equally despise each other here.'

At last the man came up on earth, descended from the ram, and went to his lord. He gave him the casket and quickly ran away. The lord opened the casket, and there came forth fire, which swallowed him up. Our brother was thus victorious over his enemy, and no one took his wife from him. They lived lovingly together, and blessed God as their deliverer.

V

FATE

There was once a mighty king, who had an only son. When this son grew up every princess was in love with him. The king was very desirous that his son should be early settled in life. He chose for him a princess, whom he proposed he should marry. The son objected very much, saying: 'It is not my fate to be united to this maiden; I shall not marry her.'

Some time after this the youth came to his father and said: 'I entreat thee, let me go forth and seek my fortune, and give me three bags of money.' The king granted his request. The prince prepared everything, and set out on his journey.

He travelled on until he met a stranger; this stranger was an angel, clad in the form of a man. He inquired of the prince: 'Whither art thou going? what seekest thou?' The prince told him all, and that he wished to learn what was written in the book of fate for him. Then this stranger showed him a beautiful palace, and said: 'There thou wilt learn thy fate.'

The prince thanked him, and set out for the palace. When he arrived in the courtyard, he looked round, and saw notes lying about. He began to examine them, but, for a long time, he searched in vain. Then there came from the palace another man, who said to the prince: 'What dost thou want, brother? what seekest thou?' The prince answered: 'I am seeking for the letter in which my fate is written.' 'Why seekest thou there? those are only poor folks' fates, kings' fortunes are written inside. Come with me and I shall show thee thine,' said the unknown.

The prince entered the house. The unknown searched for his fate, and called him. Inside was written: 'Such-and-such a prince will marry a weaver's daughter who has been ill for nine years.' He read this out, and the prince was struck with horror. 'I shall change my fate,' said the prince to himself. He took his letter of fate, and went to seek the weaver's daughter.

He went on and on, and was in a thick forest when the shades of evening fell. He wandered on in the hope of finding shelter, and at last he saw the glimmer of a light. He came to a hut, and asked permission to remain there during the night. The master of the house replied: 'Son, thou art a great man, we have nothing befitting thy rank, but we can give thee the best we have, for a guest is a gift of God.' The prince stayed there that night, and his host grudged him nothing. When they had finished supper, the prince noticed that somebody was having a meal in another room. He said to his host: 'I hope that thou wilt not think me inquisitive if I ask who is in the other room, and what is the meaning of this?' Then the host told him the following tale:

'I am a weaver, and from day to day can barely live. God has given me nobody to help me in my work. I have an only daughter, and she is an invalid. For nine years she has not risen from her bed; I can assure thee she gives me no help.' When the prince heard this, he bit his little finger with vexation, and became melancholy. He did not close his eyes that night. He was thinking all the time how he might get rid of his fate.

In the middle of the night, when every one was snoring and slept like the dead, the prince rose silently, stole from his bedchamber, and quietly entered the room of the weaver's daughter. When he saw her he was inwardly troubled, he drew forth his dagger, and plunged it into her. Then he noiselessly went away, left his money behind him, and stole forth into the night.

He went home to his father, and complained of the evil fate written for him. His father was very indignant at this, but hid his anger, and comforted his son.

Some time passed. One day the prince went out to hunt. He saw in a lonely wood a beautiful palace, and, in the palace, a maiden fair as the sun. The prince could have gazed for ever on her beauty. He looked a long time, then looking from a distance would not satisfy him. He spurred his horse, and when he came near he was even more struck with the loveliness of the maiden. He descended from his horse, came to her and asked her to marry him. When he had heard with joy her sweet words of consent, he went gaily home.

On the way, his head swam with pleasure at the thought of the welcome change; instead of the unhappy fate promised him, he was to have such a beautiful wife. He told his father what had happened to him, and asked him to prepare for the wedding. The king rejoiced at the happiness of his beloved son, and made preparations for a grand wedding.

Some days after they were married, the prince laid his hand on his lovely wife's heart, and felt something hard like a wart. He said: 'What is this?' His wife replied: 'I am a poor weaver's daughter; for nine years I lay in bed, a helpless invalid, yellow as a cucumber. Once there came a youth to my father's house for shelter. He plunged his dagger into me, then fled with haste, and went on his way. I was very sick, but my mother put a plaster on my side and I was completely cured. The guest left three bags of money behind him, and with these we bought a beautiful palace, my father gave up weaving, and we lived without a care.' When the prince heard this, he said: 'O God! Thy decrees are not vain and futile!' Then he told his beloved wife all that had happened to him.

VI

GHVTHISAVARI (I AM OF GOD)

There was once a king, who had a daughter so beautiful, that he was in constant fear lest some one should carry her away by force and marry her. So he had a huge tower built in the sea. He shut his daughter up in this tower, with an attendant, and felt relieved.

Some time passed, when one day the attendant noticed something floating on the water. She was surprised when she saw that it was a large apple. She stretched out her dress, and the sea waves rolled in and left the apple in her skirt; she took it in her hand, and ran to her mistress. The beautiful maiden had never in her life seen such a big apple, and was very much astonished. After dinner she peeled it, gave the skin to her companion, who quickly finished it, and ate the inside herself.

In a short time they both became pregnant. The king was informed of this. On hearing the news, he pressed his head between his hands, and could not contain his wrath. He commanded one of his huntsmen, saying: 'Go to the tower in the sea, take thence my daughter and her companion, and carry them to the wildest and most desert spot in my kingdom. Kill them, and bring me their hearts and livers to show me that they are dead. No one must know this story, save thee and me; if it becomes known it shall cost thee thy life.'

The huntsman went to the tower, and declared the king's orders to the princess and her companion. The beautiful maiden said: 'What will it avail thee to kill us? Take us to a lonely place, and no one will know whether we are dead or alive.'

The huntsman was not moved by these entreaties; he took them to a desert place, drew his dagger and was about to strike the fatal blow, but at the last moment he felt sorry for them, and gave up his intention. He caught two hares, killed them instead of the women, took out their hearts and livers, and returned with them to the king. The king believed them to be the hearts and livers of the princess and her attendant; he gave the huntsman gifts, and sent him away.

The princess and her companion were left alone in the wild wood, and they had nothing to eat and drink.

In a short time the princess brought forth a beautiful boy, and the attendant, eight tiny little dogs. The princess called her son Ghvthisavari (I am of God). He grew as much in a day as other children grow in a year; he became so handsome, brave, and strong, that everybody loved him.

Ghvthisavari used to go out hunting; he took his dogs with him, and provided game for his mother and her companion.

Once he went into a town to a smith, and asked him to make a bow and arrows. The smith made from nine litras of iron (a litra = 9 lbs.) a bow and arrows. Ghvthisavari bent it. Then the smith added more iron, and made the bow again. Ghvthisavari slung his arrows over his shoulders, his dogs followed him, and he went away. On the way he hunted, and took food home to his mother.

The next day he went to hunt again. He shot an arrow and killed a goat, he shot another, and killed a stag; he drew his bow a third time, and his arrow stuck in a devis' house. In this house there were five brothers, devis--one two-headed, one three-headed, one five-headed, one nine-headed, and one ten-headed--and their mother, who had only one head. They saw an arrow suddenly fall down and stick in the fire. They all jumped up and pulled the arrow to draw it out, but they were not able to move it. The mother helped them, but it was of no use. Then all the brothers rose up, they left their mother to watch, and set out to seek him who had shot the arrow. Ghvthisavari bethought himself, and set out; he followed the flight of the arrow to see where it had fallen.

He went on and on until he came to the devis' house. He looked in and saw in the middle a fire burning, in which stuck his arrow. He went in, and was about to draw the arrow out when the devis' mother cried: 'Who art thou, wretch, who darest to venture here? Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said Ghvthisavari, drawing out his arrow and hurling it at the old woman. He cut her into a hundred pieces, gave her to the dogs, and told them to throw her into the sea. He lay down in the devis' house and rested.

The devis wandered far and wide in their search, but nowhere could they learn any tidings of him they sought. Then they said: 'Perhaps some one will enter our house and steal, while we are here. Let one of us go home, and the rest watch here.' Each wished to go, and promised to run back again as quickly as possible. But the devis chose the two-headed brother, and sent him.

The two-headed brother came, and saw that his mother was no longer there, but in her place was a strange youth. He clapped him on the shoulder, and cried out: 'Who art thou, wretch, who darest to venture here? For fear of me, bird cannot fly under heaven, nor can ant crawl on earth. Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said Ghvthisavari, throwing an arrow. He cut him into a hundred pieces, gave him to the dogs, and made them throw him into the sea.

The four remaining devis waited for their two-headed brother, but he did not come. They thought that perhaps he was staying eating him who had shot the arrow, so they sent the three-headed brother.

The three-headed devi came home, and found neither his mother nor brother, and called out: 'For fear of me bird cannot fly in air, nor can ant creep on earth. Who art thou who darest to venture here? Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said Ghvthisavari, casting an arrow. He cut him into a hundred pieces, gave him to the dogs, and made them throw him into the sea.

The remaining brothers waited and waited, and then sent the five-headed devi. He too boasted, but Ghvthisavari did unto him that day even as he had done unto the others. Then the nine-headed devi went. The same thing befell him as his brothers.

The ten-headed devi was now the only one left. He thought to himself: 'My brothers are probably eating, and will not leave anything for me.' He rose and went too.

He went in and saw that his mother and brothers were not there. Instead, there was a strange youth, lying down resting. The devi called out: 'From fear of me the bird in heaven dare not fly, on earth the ant dare not crawl. Who art thou who darest to venture here? Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said Ghvthisavari, throwing an arrow and killing him. He drew out his sword, cut off his heads, and gave him to the dogs to throw into the sea.

Ghvthisavari was left master of the field. Then he said to himself: 'I will go and bring my mother and her companion here, and I shall live as I like.' He went forth and brought them, settled them in the house, and prepared for the chase.

From the sea there staggered forth the last ten-headed devi, and hid under a tree. When Ghvthisavari had cut off his heads, in his haste he had left the tenth on. Now, it was in this head that the soul was placed, so the devi came out on to the shore, full of wrath.