Volume 2 / Book 8 — Chapter XLIX.

Then Súryaprabha, lying on his couch at night, eager for battle, apart from his wives, said to his minister Vítabhíti—“I cannot sleep, so tell me, my friend, some strange story of courage and endurance, to amuse me during the night.” When Vítabhíti heard this request of Súryaprabha’s, he answered—“I will obey your order,” and he told this story.

Story of king Mahásena and his virtuous minister Guṇaśarman.

There is a city Ujjayiní, the ornament of this earth, full of numberless jewels of pellucid water. In that city there lived a king named Mahásena, beloved by the virtuous, an unequalled treasury of accomplishments, having the beauty both of the sun and moon. He had a wife named Aśokavatí, whom he loved as his life, there was not another woman in the three worlds equal to her in beauty. The king ruled his realm with her for consort, and he had besides a friend, a Bráhman named Guṇaśarman, whom he respected and loved. And that Bráhman was brave and very handsome, and, though young, had thoroughly mastered the lore of the Vedas, and knew the accomplishments, the Śástras, and the use of weapons, and was always in attendance on the king.

But queen Aśokavatí, having beheld again and again the beauty and abilities of that Bráhman, suddenly fell in love with him. She thought to herself, “If I cannot obtain him, of what use is my life to me.” Then she artfully said to the king—“Do me a kindness, my husband, and order this Guṇaśarman to teach me to play on the lyre. For when I beheld to-day his skill in playing on the lyre, I took a desperate fancy to the instrument.” When the king heard this, he said to Guṇaśarman—“By all means teach the queen to play on the lyre.” Then Guṇaśarman said, “I will do so, my sovereign, we will begin the practising on an auspicious day.” Then he took leave of the king and went home. But he put off for many days beginning to teach the queen the lyre, seeing the changed expression of the queen, and afraid of some mischief.

One day he was standing near the king when he was eating, and when the cook was giving him some condiment, he prevented him, saying, “Stop! stop!” The king asked what this meant, then the discreet man said, “This sauce is poisoned, and I detected it by certain indications. For when the cook was giving you the sauce, he looked at my face, trembling with fear, and with an eye that rolled apprehensively. And we can at once find out whether I am right; let this sauce be given to some one to eat, and I will counteract the effect of the poison.” When he said this, the king made the cook eat the sauce, and immediately after he had eaten it, he became senseless. Then Guṇaśarman counteracted the effect of the poison on the cook by a spell, and when the king asked the cook the truth of the whole matter, he said this—“King, your enemy king Vikramaśakti, sovereign of Gauḍa, sent me here to give you poison. I introduced myself to your majesty as a foreigner skilful in the culinary art, and entered your kitchen. So to-day I have been discovered by that shrewd man in the act of giving you poison in sauce; your majesty knows what to do now.” When the cook said this, the king punished him, and being much pleased, gave Guṇaśarman a thousand villages for saving his life.

And the next day, as the queen kept vigorously pressing him, the king made Guṇaśarman begin to teach her the lyre. Then, while he was teaching her the lyre, the queen Aśokavatí indulged in perpetual coquetry, laughter, and mirth. One day, wounded with the arrow of love, she scratched him with her nails frequently in secret, and said to the chaste Guṇaśarman, who entreated her to desist, “It was yourself that I asked for, handsome man, under the pretext of learning to play the lute, for I am desperately in love with you, so consent to my wishes.” When she said this, Guṇaśarman answered her, “Do not talk so, for you are my master’s wife, and such a one as I am should not commit such treason, desist from this reckless conduct.” When Guṇaśarman said this, the queen continued, “Why do you possess in vain this beauty and skill in accomplishments? How can you look with a passionless eye on me who love you so much?” When Guṇaśarman heard this, he answered sarcastically, “You are right. What is the use of that beauty and skill, which is not tarnished with infamy by seducing the wife of another, and which does not in this world and the next cause one to fall into the ocean of hell?” When he said this, the queen said to him, pretending to be angry, “I am determined to die, if you do not do what I say, so being despised by you, I will slay you before I die.” Then Guṇaśarman said, “By all means, let it be so. For it is better to live for one moment, bound by the bonds of righteousness, than to live unrighteously for hundreds of crores of kalpas. And it is far preferable for me to die without reproach, having done no wrong, than for me to have done wrong, and to be put to death by the king, with reproach attaching to my name.” When the queen heard that, she went on to say to him—“Do not commit treason against yourself and me; listen, I will tell you something. The king does not neglect to do what I tell him, even if it is impossible; so I will ask him and get territories given to you, and I will have all your servants made barons, so you will become a king, for you are distinguished for good qualities. So what have you to fear? Who can overpower you and how? So grant my wishes fearlessly, otherwise you will not live.” When the king’s wife said this, seeing that she was determined, Guṇaśarman said to her artfully, in order to put her off for a moment,—“If you are persistently set on this, then I will obey your command, but it will not be advisable to do so immediately, for fear it should get abroad; wait for some days; believe that what I say is true; what object have I in incurring your enmity which would ensure my destruction?” Thus Guṇaśarman comforted her with that hope, and agreed to her request, and then departed with heart lightened.

Then, in the course of some days, king Mahásena went and surrounded king Somaka in his treasure-city. And when the king of Gauḍa, Vikramaśakti, knew that he had arrived there, he went and surrounded king Mahásena; then king Mahásena said to Guṇaśarman—“While we are occupied in besieging one enemy we are besieged by another, so now how are we to fight with two enemies, as we are unequal in force? And how long, being brave men, can we remain without fighting a battle? So what are we to do in this difficulty?” When Guṇaśarman, who was at the side of the king, was asked this question, he answered—“Be of good courage, my sovereign; I will devise a stratagem that will enable us to get out of this situation, difficult as it is.” He comforted the king with these words, and put on his eyes an ointment that rendered him invisible, and at night went, without any one seeing him, to the camp of Vikramaśakti. And he entered into his presence, and woke him up while asleep, and said, “Know, O king, that I am come a messenger from the gods. Make peace with king Mahásena and depart quickly, otherwise you will certainly be destroyed here with your army. And if you send an ambassador, he will agree to your proposals of peace; I have been sent by the holy Vishṇu to tell you this. For you are a votary of his, and he watches over the safety of his votaries.” When king Vikramaśakti heard this, he thought, “Certainly this is true, if he were any other, how could he enter this carefully guarded tent? This is not what a mere mortal could accomplish.” When the king had gone through these reflections, he said—“I am fortunate in receiving such a command from the god, I will do what he bids me.” When the king said that, Guṇaśarman disappeared by the help of his magic collyrium, thus confirming the king’s confidence in him, and went away. And he came and told king Mahásena what he had done; he threw his arms round his neck, and hailed him as the preserver of his life and throne. And the next morning Vikramaśakti sent an ambassador to Mahásena, and after making peace with him, returned home with his army. But Mahásena conquered Somaka, and having obtained elephants and horses, returned to Ujjayiní a victor, thanks to Guṇaśarman. And while he was there, Guṇaśarman saved him from a crocodile while bathing in the river, and from the poison of a snake-bite while in his garden.

Then, after some days had passed, king Mahásena, having got together an army, went to attack his enemy Vikramaśakti. And that king, as soon as he heard of his approach, marched out to meet him in fight, and a great battle took place between the two. And in the course of it, the two kings met in single combat, and disabled one another’s chariots. Then, in their fury, they rushed forward sword in hand, and king Mahásena through carelessness stumbled and fell on the earth. Then the king Vikramaśakti tried to strike him on the ground, but Guṇaśarman cut off his arm with a discus, sword and all, and striking him again in the heart with an iron mace laid him low. And king Mahásena rose up, and was pleased when he saw his enemy dead, and said repeatedly to Guṇaśarman—“What am I to say? This is the fifth time that you have saved my life, heroic Bráhman.” Then Mahásena conquered the army and kingdom of Vikramaśakti, who had been slain by Guṇaśarman, and after overcoming other kings by the aid of Guṇaśarman, he returned to Ujjayiní and dwelt there in happiness.

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Story of Ádityaśarman the father of Guṇaśarman.

In the city of Ujjayiní there was a Bráhman’s son named Ádityaśarman, and when he was a child, his father died, and his mother entered the fire with her husband. Then Ádityaśarman grew up in that city, in his uncle’s house, reading the Vedas, and the books of knowledge, and also the treatises on accomplishments. And after he had acquired knowledge, and was engaged in a vow of muttering prayers, he struck up a friendship with a certain wandering hermit. That wandering hermit went with his friend Ádityaśarman, and performed a sacrifice in a cemetery to get a Yakshiṇí into his power. Then a heavenly maiden, beautifully adorned, appeared to him in a chariot of gold, surrounded with beautiful maidens. She said to him in a sweet voice, “Mendicant, I am a Yakshí named Vidyunmálá, and these others are Yakshiṇís. Take a suitable wife from my following according to your pleasure. So much have you obtained by your employment of spells; you have not discovered the perfect spell for obtaining me; so, as I am obtained by that only, do not take any further trouble to no purpose.” When the Yakshí said this to him, the mendicant consented, and chose one Yakshiṇí from her retinue. Then Vidyunmálá disappeared, and Ádityaśarman asked that Yakshiṇí, whom the hermit had obtained, “Is there any Yakshiṇí superior to Vidyunmálá?” When the Yakshiṇí heard that, she answered, “Yes, handsome man, there is. Vidyunmálá, Chandralekhá, and Sulochaná the third, are the best among the Yakshiṇís, and among these Sulochaná.” After saying that, the Yakshiṇí departed, to return at the appointed time; and the mendicant went with Ádityaśarman to his house. There the loving Yakshiṇí every day visited the hermit at the appointed time, and granted him all that he desired. One day Ádityaśarman asked her this question by the mouth of that mendicant: “Who knows the proper spell for attracting Sulochaná?” And the Yakshiṇí sent him this message by the mouth of the mendicant—“There is a place called Jambuvana in the south. There is a mendicant there, named Vishṇugupta, who has made his dwelling on the banks of the Veṇí; he is the best of Buddhist mendicants, and knows the spell at full length.” When Ádityaśarman learned this from the Yakshiṇí, he went in all eagerness to that country, followed by the mendicant out of love. There he duly searched for the Buddhist mendicant, and after he had approached him, he served him devotedly for three years, and waited upon him continually. And by the help of that Yakshiṇí, who was at the beck and call of the first mendicant, his friend, he provided him with heavenly luxuries, ministered seasonably. Then that Buddhist mendicant, being pleased, gave to that Ádityaśarman the spell for obtaining Sulochaná, which he desired, together with the prescribed rites to accompany it. Then Ádityaśarman, having obtained that spell, and having duly employed it, went into a solitary place and performed there the final sacrifice according to the prescribed ritual, leaving no ceremony out. Then the Yakshiṇí Sulochaná appeared to him in an air-chariot, with world-enchanting beauty, and said to him, “Come! come! I have been won by you, but you must not make me your wife for six months, great hero, if you wish to have by me a son, who will be a favourite of fortune, marked with auspicious marks, all-knowing and invincible.” When she said this, Ádityaśarman consented, and she took him off in her chariot to Alaká. And Ádityaśarman remained there, looking at her ever near him, with his suspense and doubts at an end, and performed for six months a vow as difficult as standing on the edge of a sword. Then the god of wealth, being pleased, himself gave that Sulochaná to Ádityaśarman according to a heavenly ritual. I was born as that Bráhman’s son by her, and I was named Guṇaśarman by my father on account of my good qualities. Then in that very place I learned in succession the Vedas, the sciences, and the accomplishments, from a prince of the Yakshas named Maṇidara.

Then, once upon a time, it happened that Indra came to the god of wealth, and all who sat there rose up when they saw him. But as Fate would have it, Ádityaśarman my father was at that time thinking of something else, and did not rise up in a hurry. Then Indra, being angry, cursed him, and said—“Out, fool! go to your own world of mortals, you are out of place here.” Then Sulochaná fell at his feet, and propitiated him, and Indra answered, “Then let him not go to the world of mortals himself, but let this son of his go, for one’s son is said to be a second self. Let not my word have been spoken in vain.” When Indra had said so much, he was satisfied. Then my father took me and deposited me in my uncle’s house in Ujjayiní. For what is ordained to be a man’s lot must be. There, as it happened, I struck up a friendship with the king of that place. And listen, I will tell you what happened to me there afterwards.

After saying this, he described to him what happened from the very beginning, and what Aśokavatí did, and what the king did, ending up with his fight. And he went on to say to him—“Bráhman, thus I have fled away to go to a foreign land, and on my way, as I was journeying along, I have seen you.” When the Bráhman heard that, he said to Guṇaśarman—“And thus I have become fortunate by your visit, my lord. So now come to my house, and know that I am Agnidatta by name, and this village is my grant from the king; be at ease here.” After saying this, Agnidatta made Guṇaśarman enter his splendid mansion, in which were many cows, buffaloes, and horses. There he honoured that guest with bath and unguents, and robes and ornaments, and with various kinds of food. And he shewed him his daughter, Sundarí by name, whose beauty was to be desired even by the gods, on the pretence of getting him to inspect her marks. And Guṇaśarman, for his part, seeing that she was unsurpassed in beauty, said “She will have rival wives. She has a mole on her nose, and consequently I assert that she must have a second one on her breast; and men say that such is the result of spots in these two localities.” When he said this, her brother, by command of her father, uncovered her breast, and beheld there a mole.

You shall possess an inexhaustible treasury and, after conquering Mahásena, you shall, my son, advance irresistibly and rule the earth.” After giving him this great boon, Skanda disappeared, and Guṇaśarman obtained inexhaustible treasure. Then the successful hero married, according to the prescribed rites, with splendour suited to his greatness, the daughter of the Bráhman Agnidatta, who fell more in love with him every day, like his future good fortune in affairs come to him in bodily form. And then having collected, by virtue of his surpassing accumulation of inexhaustible treasure, an army consisting of many horses, elephants and foot-soldiers, he marched to Ujjayiní, overrunning the earth with the forces of all the kings that crowded to his banner out of gratitude for his gifts. And after proclaiming there to the subjects that immodest conduct of Aśokavatí, and after conquering the king Mahásena in battle, and deposing him from the throne, he obtained the dominion of the earth. And king Guṇaśarman married many daughters of kings, besides Sundarí, and his orders were obeyed even on the shores of the sea, and with Sundarí as his consort he long enjoyed pleasures to his heart’s content.

“Thus king Mahásena, in old time, suddenly incurred calamity through being unable to discriminate the characters of men, being a man of dull intellect, but the clear-headed Guṇaśarman, with the help of his own resolute character alone, obtained the highest prosperity.”

After Súryaprabha had heard this chivalrous tale at night from the mouth of his minister Vítabhíti, the royal hero, who was longing to traverse the great sea of battle, gained great confidence, and gradually dropped off to sleep.