III The Story of Geria, the Poor Man’s Son

He went, he went, he went more than he could, and when he had crossed the other six mountains a still greater earthquake began. It turned out that this region belonged to the eldest sister of the Rokapis; but Geria showed no sign of fear. The Rokapi cried to him: ‘What manner of man art thou to resist my witchcraft? Art thou Geria, the poor man’s son?’ He cried out to her: ‘I am he.’ The Rokapi at once went out to meet him, bowed herself, treated him with respect, and asked him: ‘Whither art thou going?’ Geria told her his plan, and this Rokapi too was distressed. Geria asked her why she grieved. She answered: ‘Because I have seen many on their way thither, but I have never seen one come back; albeit, I will do thee one service, I give thee my three-legged horse.’ She called the horse, and said to him: ‘As long as Geria lives serve him faithfully.’ Geria bade her farewell, mounted the horse, and rode away with his little dog Mathicochi.

He rode out into a great meadow, and came near the abode of the demis. When he looked upon the mead his heart was glad, and his eyes filled with tears, he bethought him of his home and its beautiful fields, he uttered a blessing to God the merciful. Then he urged his horse onward, at such speed that clouds of dust rose behind him. The youth said to himself: ‘Lo, I am now in the unknown land!’ Up he rode to the demis’ gate, leaped from his horse, and tied it there.

He walked away a little, and then cried: ‘Methinks I have not fastened my horse securely!’ Back he went, tore up an oak by the roots, planted it with its branches downwards in the earth, and firmly tied his horse to it. Then the horse said: ‘If thou hadst not done this I should have fled home, but now do as I tell thee, and all will be well. The demis are indoors; go to the meadow, there thou wilt find a kettle, overturn it. Then betake thyself to the damsel, and get her to plight her troth to thee.’

Geria went, kicked the kettle, turned it over three times, and left it upside down, then he went to the maiden, broke all the locks, and came to the room where she was. She was astonished, but the youth’s bravery pleased her, and, to make a long story short, she promised to marry him. The youth went out merrily to the place where he had left his horse. There he quietly spent the night, and next morning the horse said: ‘The demis have now gone out to the meadow; when they saw the kettle turned over they marvelled, for it usually takes all the twelve demis to turn over that kettle, and they said one to another: “Whatever we are commanded by him that turned over the kettle that must we do,”—now it is time for thee to go thither.’ Geria went to the meadow.

As soon as the demis saw him, they all arose hastily, went to meet him, bowed themselves, and said: ‘What dost thou ask of us?’ He answered: ‘You must give me your sister to wife.’ The demis said: ‘We give her to thee, but the Black King will not let thee take her.’ Geria answered: ‘I fear no man,’ so (not to lengthen unduly a long story) they made ready a banquet.

While the feast was still going on, in the morning, Geria looked out of the door, and saw a host of men in black apparel, who had been sent by the Black King. Geria mounted his horse, dashed into the midst and defeated them all; three only did he save alive, as messengers, and sent them to say to the Black King: ‘’Tis I that have done this, Geria, the poor man’s son.’

Geria arose and saw a sight, such a sight as I wish thine enemy may see. It pleased him not to see Qvamuritz Khami; but what could be done? The horse said to him: ‘Youth! yonder is he of whom I spake.’ Geria crossed himself, gave thanks to God, bade his wife farewell, for he thought to die, and went out. First of all he slew the army, and then he began a single combat with Qvamuritz Khami.

Mounted they fought with maces, but the battle was not to the strong, for Qvamuritz Khami’s soul was safe in other hands—how could he be killed? Qvamuritz Khami cried: ‘O young man! thus shouldst thou shoot!’ and slew him. When Geria was dead, the victor slaughtered all the demis, took Geria’s wife, put her on her husband’s horse, and carried her off to his master.

But she said to the king: ‘I am the widow of such a man that I will not belong to a man like thee; either do battle with me, and let the conqueror have his will, or give me leave to wear mourning for three months.’ The king feared to fight with her, for she was of the demi race, so he gave her a respite of three months. When Geria was killed, his head rolled one way and his body another; his faithful dog Mathicochi went and put the two pieces together, and lay down to guard them.

While all these things had been happening, a year had passed, and when Geria’s parents saw that he did not return, they set out to seek him. When they came to a narrow road, they saw that several snakes had met and were fighting, and all fell dead; then two great snakes crawled out, threw themselves into the river, swam out again and began to crawl over the dead snakes in various directions. They were all restored to life. Geria’s parents wondered at the sight, and said one to the other: ‘Let us take a little of this water.’ They took a thimblefull of it.

When they approached, the little dog, Mathicochi, saw them, and ran to meet them; sadly he took them to the dead body. When the unhappy parents saw Geria dead, they both fell to the ground and sobbed bitterly; then they remembered that the mother of the unfortunate youth had the wonderful water with her. As soon as they sprinkled Geria with it he came to life, and said: ‘Woe is me! what a long time I have slept!’ When he saw his parents, he was glad, but, remembering all that had befallen him, he again grew sad, and bade his parents farewell once more. They wept much, but, putting their trust in God, armed themselves with patience.

After this, Geria went into the king’s palace, and slew all therein excepting his wife. Her he took to his parents, whose patience and grief were exchanged for great joy. They all went home together.