Volume 2 / Book 12 — Chapter LXXXI.

Then king Trivikramasena went back to the aśoka-tree, and again found the Vetála there, and took him on his shoulder. As he was going along with him, the Vetála said to him on the way, “King, listen to me, I will tell you a story to make you forget your fatigue.”

Story of the king who married his dependent to the Nereid.

There is a city on the shore of the eastern sea, named Támraliptí; in that city there was a king of the name of Chaṇḍasinha; he turned away his face from the wives of others, but not from battle-fields; he carried off the fortune of his foes, but not the wealth of his neighbours.

Then his dependent got his horse ready, and he mounted it, and the dependent went in front of him to shew him the way, but however much the king entreated him, he would not get up on the horse behind him, and so the king returned to his own city, meeting his army on the way. There he proclaimed the devotion of the dependent, and he loaded him with wealth and territories, and did not consider even then that he had recompensed him as he deserved. Then Sattvaśíla became a prosperous man, and discarding the life of a dependent, he remained henceforth about the person of king Chaṇḍasinha.

And one day the king sent him to the island of Ceylon, to demand for him the hand of the king’s daughter. He had to go there by sea; so he worshipped his patron divinity, and went on board a ship with the Bráhmans, whom the king appointed to accompany him. And when the ship had gone half-way, there suddenly rose from the sea a banner that excited the wonder of all in the ship. It was so lofty that its top touched the clouds, it was made of gold, and emblazoned like a waving flag of various hues. And at that very moment a bank of clouds suddenly arose, and began to pour down rain, and a mighty wind blew. And the ship was forced on to that flag by the rain and the wind, and thus fastened to it, as elephant-drivers force on an elephant and bind him to a post. And then the flag began to sink with the ship in the billowy sea.

And then the Bráhmans in the ship, distracted with fear, called on their king Chaṇḍasinha, crying out for help. And when Sattvaśíla heard their cries, so great was his devotion to his master that he could not restrain himself, but with his sword in his hand, and his upper garment girded round him, the brave fellow daringly plunged into the billows, following the flag, in order to counteract the violence of the sea, not suspecting the real cause. And as soon as he had plunged in, that ship was carried to a distance by the wind and waves, and all the people, who were in it, fell into the mouths of the sea-monsters.

And in the meanwhile a heavenly maiden suddenly opened a door, and issued from a bright enclosure in front of the temple of the goddess. Her eyes were like blue lotuses, her face full-blown, her smile like a flower, her body was soft like the taper fibre of a water-lily’s root, so that she resembled a moving lotus-lake. And waited on by a thousand ladies, she entered the inner shrine of the goddess and the heart of Sattvaśíla at the same time. And after she had worshipped, she left the inner shrine of the goddess, but nothing would make her leave the heart of Sattvaśíla. And she entered once more into the shining enclosure, and Sattvaśíla entered after her.

The next day the king entrusted the kingdom to his ministers, and embarking on a ship, set out on the sea with Sattvaśíla, who shewed him the way. And when they had got to that half-way spot, Sattvaśíla saw the wonderful flagstaff rising out of the sea with the banner on it, as before, and he said to the king, “Here is that great flagstaff with such wonderful properties, towering aloft out of the sea: I must plunge in here, and then the king must plunge in also and dive down after the flagstaff.” After Sattvaśíla had said this, they got near the flagstaff, and it began to sink. And Sattvaśíla first threw himself in after it, and then the king also dived in the same direction, and soon after they had plunged in, they reached that splendid city. And there the king beheld with astonishment and worshipped that goddess Párvatí, and sat down with Sattvaśíla.

And in the meanwhile there issued from that glittering enclosure a maiden, accompanied by her attendant ladies, looking like the quality of brightness in concrete form. Sattvaśíla said, “This is that fair one,” and the king, beholding her, considered that his attachment to her was amply justified. She, for her part, when she beheld that king with all the auspicious bodily marks, said to herself, “Who can this exceedingly distinguished man be?” And so she went into the temple of Durgá to pray, and the king contemptuously went off to the garden, taking Sattvaśíla with him. And in a short time the Daitya maiden came out from the inner shrine of the goddess, having finished her devotions, and having prayed that she might obtain a good husband; and after she had come out, she said to one of her attendants, “My friend, go and see where that distinguished man is whom I saw; and entreat him to do us the favour of coming and accepting our hospitality, for he is some great hero deserving special honour.” When the attendant had received this order, she went and looked for him, and bending low, delivered to him in the garden the message of her mistress. Then the heroic king answered in a carelessly negligent tone, “This garden is sufficient entertainment for me: what other entertainment do I require?” When that attendant came and reported this answer to the Daitya maiden, she considered that the king was a man of a noble spirit and deserving of the highest regard.

And then the Asura maiden, (being, as it were, drawn towards himself with the cord of his self-command by the king, who shewed a lofty indifference for hospitality far above mortal desert,) went in person to the garden, thinking that he had been sent her by way of a husband, as a fruit of her adoration of Durgá. And the trees seemed to honour her, as she approached, with the songs of various birds, with their creepers bending in the wind like arms, and showers of blossoms. And she approached the king and bowing courteously before him, entreated him to accept of her hospitality. Then the king pointed to Sattvaśíla, and said to her, “I came here to worship the image of the goddess of which this man told me. I have reached her marvellous temple, guided to it by the banner, and have seen the goddess, and after that, you; what other hospitality do I require?” When the maiden heard that, she said, “Then come, out of curiosity, to see my second city, which is the wonder of the three worlds.” When she said this, the king laughed and said, “Oh! he told me of this also, the place where there is the tank to bathe in.” Then the maiden said, “King, do not speak thus, I am not of a deceitful disposition, and who would think of cheating one so worthy of respect? I have been made the slave of you both by your surpassing excellence; so you ought not thus to reject my offer.”

“Now tell me: which of those two shewed most courage in plunging into the water?” When the Vetála put this question to the king, the latter, fearing to be cursed, thus answered him; “I consider Sattvaśíla the braver man of the two, for he plunged into the sea without knowing the real state of the case, and without any hope, but the king knew what the circumstances were when he plunged in, and had something to look forward to, and he did not fall in love with the Asura princess, because he thought no longing would win her.” When the Vetála received this answer from the king, who thereby broke silence, he left his shoulder, as before, and fled to his place on the aśoka-tree. And the king, as before, followed him quickly to bring him back again; for the wise never flag in an enterprise which they have begun, until it is finished.