A great rage took possession of his soul as he thought of the girl whom
he had tried to ruin being after all so much better off than himself,
and he vowed that he would work her ill. Therefore that very afternoon
he made his way to the palace and asked to see the king.
When he was admitted to his presence, he knelt down and touched the
ground with his forehead, and the king bade him stand up and tell
wherefore he had come.
‘By the kindness of your heart have you been deceived, O king,’ said he.
‘Your son has married a girl who has lost a hand. Do you know why she
had lost it? She was a witch, and has wedded three husbands, and each
husband she has put to death with her arts. Then the people of the town
cut off her hand, and turned her into the forest. And what I say is
true, for her town is my town also.’
The king listened, and his face grew dark. Unluckily he had a hasty
temper, and did not stop to reason, and, instead of sending to the town,
and discovering people who knew his daughter-in-law and could have told
him how hard she had worked and how poor she had been, he believed all
the brother’s lying words, and made the queen believe them too. Together
they took counsel what they should do, and in the end they decided that
they also would put her out of the town. But this did not content the
brother.
‘Kill her,’ he said. ‘It is no more than she deserves for daring to
marry the king’s son. Then she can do no more hurt to anyone.’
‘We cannot kill her,’ answered they; ‘if we did, our son would assuredly
kill us. Let us do as the others did, and put her out of the town. And
with this the envious brother was forced to be content.
The poor girl loved her husband very much, but just then the baby was
more to her than all else in the world, and as long as she had him with
her, she did not very much mind anything. So, taking her son on her arm,
and hanging a little earthen pot for cooking round her neck, she left
her house with its great peacock fans and slaves and seats of ivory, and
plunged into the forest.
For a while she walked, not knowing whither she went, then by and bye
she grew tired, and sat under a tree to rest and to hush her baby to
sleep. Suddenly she raised her eyes, and saw a snake wriggling from
under the bushes towards her.
‘I am a dead woman,’ she said to herself, and stayed quite still, for
indeed she was too frightened to move. In another minute the snake had
reached her side, and to her surprise he spoke.
‘Open your earthen pot, and let me go in. Save me from sun, and I will
save you from rain,’ and she opened the pot, and when the snake had
slipped in, she put on the cover. Soon she beheld another snake coming
after the other one, and when it had reached her it stopped and said,
‘Did you see a small grey snake pass this way just now?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘it was going very quickly.’
‘Ah, I must hurry and catch it up,’ replied the second snake, and it
hastened on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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