Of the Pretty Stranger who Killed the King

King Mbotu of Old Town, Calabar, a skilled warrior and wealthy ruler, was targeted by the Itu people, who used a witch disguised as a beautiful woman to assassinate him. After drugging and killing Mbotu, she delivered his head to her king. The Itu forces then attacked the unprepared town, securing victory. The story highlights the danger of trusting strangers, regardless of their charm.

Source
Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria
by Elphinstone Dayrell
Longmans, Green & Co.
London, New York, Bombay, Calcutta, 1910

► Themes of the story

Good vs. Evil: The narrative contrasts the virtuous King Mbotu against the malevolent witch and the Itu people’s deceitful plot.

Cunning and Deception: The witch’s disguise and treacherous actions exemplify the use of deceit to achieve malicious goals.

Tragic Flaw: King Mbotu’s susceptibility to flattery and beauty leads to his demise, highlighting a personal weakness.

► From the same Region or People

West Africa
- Nigerian Lore

Learn more about Nigerian peoples

Mbotu was a very famous king of Old Town, Calabar. He was frequently at war, and was always successful, as he was a most skilful leader. All the prisoners he took were made slaves. He therefore became very rich, but, on the other hand, he had many enemies. The people of Itu in particular were very angry with him and wanted him dead, but they were not strong enough to beat Mbotu in a pitched battle, so they had to resort to craft. The Itu people had an old woman who was a witch and could turn herself into whatever she pleased, and when she offered to kill Mbotu, the people were very glad, and promised her plenty of money and cloth if she succeeded in ridding them of their enemy.

► Continue reading…

The witch then turned herself into a young and pretty girl, and having armed herself with a very sharp knife, which she concealed in her bosom, she went to Old Town, Calabar, to seek the king.

It happened that when she arrived there was a big play being held in the town, and all the people from the surrounding country had come in to dance and feast. Oyaikan, the witch, went to the play, and walked about so that every one could see her. Directly she appeared the people all marvelled at her beauty, and said that she was as beautiful as the setting sun when all the sky was red. Word was quickly brought to king Mbotu, who, it was well known, was fond of pretty girls, and he sent for her at once, all the people agreeing that she was quite worthy of being the king’s wife. When she appeared before him he fancied her so much, that he told her he would marry her that very day. Oyaikan was very pleased at this, as she had never expected to get her opportunity so quickly. She therefore prepared a dainty meal for the king, into which she placed a strong medicine to make the king sleep, and then went down to the river to wash.

When she had finished it was getting dark, so she went to the king’s compound, carrying her dish on her head, and was at once shown in to the king, who embraced her affectionately. She then offered him the food, which she said, quite truly, she had prepared with her own hands. The king ate the whole dish, and immediately began to feel very sleepy, as the medicine was strong and took effect quickly.

They retired to the king’s chamber, and the king went to sleep at once. About midnight, when all the town was quiet, Oyaikan drew her knife from her bosom and cut the king’s head off. She put the head in a bag and went out very softly, shutting and barring the door behind her. Then she walked through the town without any one observing her, and went straight to Itu, where she placed king Mbotu’s head before her own king.

When the people heard that the witch had been successful and that their enemy was dead, there was great rejoicing, and the king of Itu at once made up his mind to attack Old Town, Calabar. He therefore got his fighting men together and took them in canoes by the creeks to Old Town, taking care that no one carried word to Calabar that he was coming.

The morning following the murder of Mbotu his people were rather surprised that he did not appear at his usual time, so his head wife knocked at his door. Not receiving any answer she called the household together, and they broke open the door. When they entered the room they found the king lying dead on his bed covered in blood, but his head was missing. At this a great shout went up, and the whole town mourned. Although they missed the pretty stranger, they never connected her in their minds with the death of their king, and were quite unsuspicious of any danger, and were unprepared for fighting. In the middle of the mourning, while they were all dancing, crying, and drinking palm wine, the king of Itu with all his soldiers attacked Old Town, taking them quite by surprise, and as their leader was dead, the Calabar people were very soon defeated, and many killed and taken prisoners.

MORAL.–Never marry a stranger, no matter how pretty she may be.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

Olofat – The Trickster God

One of the most important myths or series of myths in the Carolines, outside of the more strictly cosmogonic tales, is that describing the exploits of Olofat or Olifat, the eldest son of Luke-lang, the highest deity. In the version from the central Carolines, which is here followed, he appears as a mischievous, almost malicious, person who stands in marked contrast to his brother or brothers, who are beneficent; and it is interesting to compare this antithesis of malice and goodness with Melanesian types.

Source
The Mythology of All Races
Volume IX – Oceanic
by Roland B. Dixon
Marshall Jones Co., Boston, 1916

► Themes of the story

Trickster: Olofat embodies the archetypal trickster, engaging in mischievous and deceptive behaviors that disrupt the natural order.

Conflict with Authority: Olofat’s actions challenge the authority of his father, Luk, and the established order of the sky-world.

Good vs. Evil: The story contrasts Olofat’s malevolent deeds with the benevolent nature of his brother, highlighting the struggle between opposing moral forces.

► From the same Region or People

Micronesia
- Carolinian Lore

Learn more about Carolinian people

Olofat saw that one of his brothers was better than he and also more beautiful, and at this he became angry. Looking down from the sky-world and seeing two boys who had caught a couple of sharks, with which they were playing in a fishpond, he descended to earth and gave the sharks teeth, so that they bit the hands of the children. When the boys ran home crying with pain and told their troubles to their mother, Ligoapup, who was the sister of Olofat, she asked them if they had not seen any one about, whereupon they said that they had, and that he was more handsome than any man whom they had ever beheld.

► Continue reading…

Knowing that this must be her brother, Olofat, Ligoapup asked her sons where he was, and they answered, “Close by the sea.” She then told them to go and get the man and bring him to her, but when they reached the place where they had left him, they found only an old, grey-haired man, covered with dirt. Returning to their mother, they informed her that the man whom they had seen was no longer there; but she bade them go back and bring whomsoever they might find. Accordingly they set off, but this time they saw only a heap of filth in place of a man; and so once more they went home to their mother, who told them to return a third time. Obeying her, they questioned the filth, saying, “Are you Olofat? For if you are, you must come to our mother”; whereupon the pile of filth turned into a handsome man who accompanied them to Ligoapup. She said to him, “Why are you such a deceiver?” And Olofat replied, “How so?” And she said, “First, you turned yourself into a dirty old man, and then into a pile of filth.” “I am afraid of my father,” answered Olofat. “Yes,” said Ligoapup, “you are afraid because you gave teeth to the shark.” Then Olofat replied, “I am angry at Luk, for he created my brother handsomer than I am, and with greater power. I shall give teeth to all sharks, in order that they may eat men whenever canoes tip over.” When Luk, who was in the sky-world, became aware of these things, he said to his wife, “It would be well if Olofat came back to heaven, since he is only doing evil on earth”; and his wife, Inoaeman, said, “I think so, too. Otherwise he will destroy mankind, for he is an evil being.”

Accordingly Luk ordered the people of the sky-world to build a great house, and when it was finished, he not only commanded that a feast be announced, but also had a large fish-basket prepared, in which they placed Olofat and sank him in the sea. After five nights, when they thought he would be dead, two men went in a canoe and hauled up the basket; but behold! it contained only a multitude of great fish, for Olofat had slipped away and seated himself in a canoe near by. The men asked him, “Who are you?” And he replied, “I am Olofat. Come here, and I will help you to put the fish into your boat.” Taking one fish after the other, he handed them to the men, but in so doing he removed all the flesh of the fish and gave the men merely the empty skins. For himself he kept nothing but the smallest ones; and when the people said, “Why is it that you take only the little fish?” Olofat replied.

“Give Luk all the big ones; I am quite satisfied with the little ones.” Then the people brought the catch to Luk, who asked them, “Where is the fish-basket? Who took the fish out?” When they replied, “Olofat did that, but has again placed the basket in the sea,” Luk said, “Has he then taken no fish for himself?” to which they answered, “Only the very smallest ones.” Luk now ordered all sorts of food to be prepared for the feast and commanded that the fishes should be cooked; and when all were gathered in the house, while Olofat sat at the entrance, Luk said, “Let every one now eat. Let the food be divided, and let each receive his share.” Nevertheless, Olofat refused to receive any; and when the guests took up the fish, lo! there were only the empty skins, and within was nothing, so that they had to content themselves with fruit.

Olofat, however, ate his own fish; but Luk said, “See, we have nothing, whereas Olofat is able to eat his own fish, and is still not finished with them.” Thereupon he became very angry and sent word to Thunder to destroy Olofat; but since Thunder lived in a house at a distance, Luk said, “Take Thunder some food.” So one of the gods took some of the viands in order to carry them, but Olofat, snatching them from him, himself carried them to Thunder; and on arriving at the house, he called out, “O Thunder, I bring food.” Now Thunder had found a white hen, and coming out, he thundered; but though Luk cried, “Kill him,” and though Thunder blazed, Olofat merely placed his hand before his eyes. Nevertheless, Thunder followed him and thundered again and again behind him; but from under his mantle Olofat took some coco-nut milk which he had brought with him, and sprinkling it upon Thunder, he quenched the lightning. After this he seized Thunder and bore him back to his own home; and when Olofat had returned to the feast house, Luk said, “Why has the man not been killed?” Notwithstanding this, Olofat again took his place by the door, while Luk now ordered another of the gods to take food to Anulap. Thereupon Olofat stood up and walked along behind the one who carried the food and he took the viands away from him, saying, “ I myself will take the food to Anulap.” So he went to the god and said, “Here are viands for you”; and then he turned about and came back to the great assembly house, whereupon Luk said to Anulap, “Why have you not killed the man?” Then Anulap took his great hook, which was fastened to a strong rope, and throwing it at Olofat, he caught him around the neck; but Olofat quickly seized a mussel-shell and cut the rope, after which he hastened to the house of Anulap, where he sat down upon the threshold. When Anulap saw him, he seized his club to strike Olofat; but as he stretched it out, the latter changed himself into a wooden mortar. Thereupon Anulap called, “Where is Olofat?” and his wife, answering, “He must have run away,” they lay down and slept. After all this Luk said, “We can do nothing with Olofat; I believe he cannot die. Go, O Laitian, and tell the people to come in the morning to make a porch for the house.” When the people had come and asked how they should construct the porch, Luk said, “Go to the forest and bring great tree-trunks”; and when this was done, and the tree-trunks were laid by the house, Luk commanded, “Now, go and fetch Olofat.” Olofat came and said, “I shall go, too”; but Luk replied, “You must aid us to build the porch. You must make three holes in the ground, two shallow and one deep; and in these the tree-trunks must be set.” Accordingly Olofat dug three holes, but in each of them he made an excavation at one side; after which Luk asked, “Olofat, are you ready yet?” Thereupon Olofat, taking a nut and a stone, secreted them in his girdle; and Luk said, “Now set the tree-trunks in the holes.” In obedience to this, three men seized the upper end, while Olofat grasped the lower part; and they pushed Olofat so that he fell into the hole, only to creep quickly into the space which he had made on the side. Not knowing this, however, they then raised the tree-trunk high, and dropping it into the hole, they made it firm with earth and stone. All now believed that Olofat had been caught under the great post and had been crushed to death. He, however, sat in his hole on the side, and being hungry five nights later, he cracked the nut with the stone which he had brought with him and ate it; whereupon ants came, and taking the fragments which had fallen to the ground, they carried the food along the trunk to the surface, going in long rows. The man who sat in the house above, seeing this, said to his wife, “Olofat is dead, for the ants are bringing up parts of his body”; but when Olofat heard the speech of the man, he turned himself into an ant and crept with the others up the post. Having climbed high, he allowed himself to drop upon the body of the man, who pushed the ant off, so that it fell to the ground, where it was immediately changed into Olofat. As soon as the people saw him, they sprang up in fear, and Olofat said, “What are you talking about. When Luk beheld him, he said, “We have tried in every possible way to kill you, but it seems that you cannot die. Bring me Samenkoaner.” After Samenkoaner had come and sat down, Luk asked him, “How is it that Olofat cannot die.? Can you kill him.?” To this Samenkoaner replied, “No, not even if I thought about it for a whole night long, could I find a means; for he is older than I.” Thereupon Luk said, “But I do not wish that he should destroy all men upon the earth”; and so the Rat, Luk’s sister, advised that they should burn Olofat. Accordingly they made a great fire, to which they brought Olofat; but he had with him a roll of coco-nut fibre, and when Luk ordered them to throw him into the flames, he crept through the roll and came out safely upon the other side of the fire. Then Luk said, “Rat, we have tried everything to kill him, but in vain”; and the Rat answered, “He cannot die; so make him the lord of all who are evil and deceitful.”

King for Three Days

Godfrey de Bouillon, a central figure of the First Crusade, led an army to Jerusalem in 1095, committing atrocities against Jews along the way. He sought a prophecy from Rabbi Rashi, who foretold his brief rule as Jerusalem’s king and the decimation of his forces. Despite initial success, Godfrey’s army dwindled, fulfilling Rashi’s prophecy. His legacy contrasts starkly with Rashi’s enduring scholarly influence.

Source
Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends
by Gertrude Landa (“Aunt Naomi”)
Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1919

► Themes of the story

Prophecy and Fate: Rashi’s prophecy about Godfrey’s brief reign and the decimation of his forces underscores the inevitability of fate.

Good vs. Evil: The narrative contrasts Godfrey’s violent crusade with Rashi’s moral stance, highlighting the struggle between opposing forces.

Echoes of the Past: The historical context of the Crusades and its impact on future generations are central to the narrative.

► From the same Region or People

West Asia
- Jewish Lore

Learn more about Jewish mythology

Godfrey de Bouillon was a famous warrior, a daring general and bold leader of men, who gained victories in several countries. And so, in the year 1095, when the first Crusade came to be arranged, he was entrusted with the command of one of the armies and led it across Europe in the historic march to the Holy Land.

Like many a great soldier of his period, Godfrey was a cruel man, and, above all, he hated the Jews.

► Continue reading…

“In this, our Holy War,” he said to his men, “we shall slay all the children of Israel wherever we shall fall in with them. I shall not rest content until I have exterminated the Jews.”

True to his inhuman oath, Godfrey and his soldiers massacred large numbers of Jews. They did this without pity or mercy, saying: “We are performing a sacred duty, for we have the blessings of the priests on our enterprise.”

Godfrey felt sure he would be victorious, but he also wanted to obtain the blessing of a rabbi. It was a curious desire, but in those days such things were not considered at all strange, and so Godfrey de Bouillon sent for the learned Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, better known by his world-famed name of Rashi.

Rashi, one of the wisest sages of the Jews, came to Godfrey, and the two men stood facing each other.

“Thou hast heard of my undertaking to capture Jerusalem,” said Godfrey, haughtily. “I demand thy blessing on my venture.”

“Blessings are not in the gift of man; they are bestowed by Heaven–on worthy objects,” answered Rashi.

“Trifle not with words,” retorted the warrior, “or they may cost thee dear. A holy man can invoke a blessing.”

But Rashi was not afraid. He was becoming an old man then, but he was as brave as the swaggering soldier, and he faced Godfrey unflinchingly.

“I can make no claim on the God of Israel on behalf of one who has sworn to destroy all the descendants of His chosen people,” he said.

“So, ho!” exclaimed Godfrey, “you defy me.”

But he stopped his angry words abruptly. He had no wish to quarrel with any holy man, for that might make him nervous. And nervousness, then, was misunderstood as superstition. Besides, the rabbi might curse him.

“If you will not bless,” he said, “perhaps you will deign to raise the veil of the future for me. You wise men of the Jews are seers and can foretell events–so they say. A hundred thousand chariots filled with soldiers brave, determined and strong, are at my command. Tell me, shall I succeed, or fail?”

“Thou wilt do both.” Rashi replied.

“What mean you?” demanded Godfrey, angrily.

“This. Jerusalem will fall to thee. So it is ordained, and thou wilt become its king.”

“Ha, ha! So you deem it wisest to pronounce a blessing after all,” interrupted Godfrey. “I am content.”

“I have not spoken all,” said the rabbi, gravely. “Three days wilt thou rule and no more.”

Godfrey turned pale.

“Shall I return?” he asked, slowly.

“Not with thy multitude of chariots. Thy vast army will have dwindled to three horses and three men when thou reachest this city.”

“Enough,” cried Godfrey. “If you think to affright me with these ominous words, you fail in your intent. And hearken, Rabbi of the Jews, your words shall be remembered. Should they prove incorrect in the minutest detail–if I am King of Jerusalem for four days, or return with four horsemen–you shall pay the penalty of a false prophet and shall be consigned to the flames. Do you understand? You shall be put to death.”

“I understand well,” returned Rashi, quite unmoved, “it is a sentence which you and your kind love to pronounce with or without the sanction of those whom you call your holy men. It is not I who fear, Godfrey de Bouillon. I seek not to peer into the future to assure my own safety.”

With these words they parted, the rabbi returning to his prayers and to his studies which have enriched the learning of the Jews, while Godfrey proceeded to lay a trail of innocent Jewish blood along the banks of the Rhine in his march to Palestine.

History has set on record the events of the Crusade. Godfrey, after many battles, laid siege to the Holy City, captured it, and drove the Jews into one of the synagogues and burned them alive. Eight days afterward, his soldiers raised him on their shields and proclaimed him king.

Godfrey was delighted, but two days later he thought the matter over carefully and decided that he could not live in Jerusalem always. So next day he called together his captains and said:

“You have done me great honor. But I must return to Europe, and it would be more befitting that I should be styled Duke of Jerusalem and Guardian of the Holy City than its sovereign.”

That night, however, he suddenly remembered the prediction of Rashi.

“For three days I have been King of Jerusalem,” he muttered. “The rabbi of the Jews spoke truth.”

He could not help wondering whether the rest of the prophecy would be fulfilled, and he became moody. He was joyful when he gained a victory, but there came also disasters, and he was plunged into despondency. The reverses affected the buoyancy of his troops, disease decimated their ranks, and desertions further depleted their numbers. Slowly but surely his mighty army dwindled away to a mere handful of dissatisfied men and decrepit horses.

It was a ragged and wretched procession that he led back across Europe, and daily his retinue grew smaller. Men and horses dropped from sheer fatigue helpless by the wayside, and were left there to die, with the hungry vultures perched on trees, patiently waiting for the last flicker of life to depart before they set to work to pick the bones of all flesh.

Godfrey de Bouillon had gained his victory, but at what cost? Thousands of men, women and children had been murdered, thousands of his soldiers had fallen in battle, and now hundreds of others had dropped out of the ranks to end their last hours on the ghastly road that led from Jerusalem back to western Europe. Do you wonder that Godfrey was unhappy, and that he thought every moment of the words of Rashi?

At length he reached the city of Worms where Rashi dwelt. With him were four men, mounted on horses.

“It is well,” he said, with as much cheerfulness as he could muster, as he surveyed the remnants of his once proud army. “The rabbi has failed.”

Godfrey bade his men fall into line behind him and he proudly rode through the gate of the city. As he did so, he heard a cry of alarm. He turned hastily and saw a huge stone falling from the city’s gate. It dropped on the soldier riding just behind him, killing both man and horse.

“You have spoken truth; would that I had taken heed of your words,” he said to the rabbi. “I am a broken man. You will assuredly achieve great fame in Israel.” And so it has come to pass. Should you, by chance, ever visit the city of Brussels, the capital of Belgium, fail not to look upon the statue of Godfrey de Bouillon, with his sword proudly raised. It stands in the Place Royale but a few minutes’ walk from the synagogue. Should you ever be in the ancient city of Worms that stands on the Rhine, do as other visitors, Jews and Gentiles–enter the synagogue that was built many centuries ago, and you will see the room where Rashi studied and the stone seat on which he sat. And not far from the synagogue you will see the ancient gate of the city, named in honor of Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, the Rashi Gate. Perhaps it is the very one under which Godfrey de Bouillon passed into the city with his three mounted companions, as the legend tells.

The Story of Bostanai

In ancient Persia, the tyrannical King Hormuz sought to eliminate the descendants of King David among the Jews. Following a chilling dream symbolizing his cruelty, Hormuz spared a lone survivor, an infant named Bostanai. Raised as a prince, Bostanai proved his royal lineage through his fortitude and wisdom. Ultimately, he became a beloved leader, ensuring peace and prosperity for Persia’s Jewish community.

Source
Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends
by Gertrude Landa (“Aunt Naomi”)
Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1919

► Themes of the story

Prophecy and Fate: The survival and rise of Bostanai align with the prophecy concerning the House of David.

Good vs. Evil: The narrative contrasts the tyrannical King Hormuz with the virtuous Bostanai.

Cultural Heroes: Bostanai emerges as a hero who ensures peace and prosperity for Persia’s Jewish community.

► From the same Region or People

West Asia
- Jewish Lore

Learn more about Jewish mythology

In the days of long ago, when Persia was a famous and beautiful land, with innumerable rose gardens that perfumed the whole country and gorgeous palaces, there lived a king, named Hormuz. He was a cruel monarch, this Shah of Persia. He tyrannized over his people and never allowed them to live in peace. Above all, he hated the Jews. “These descendants of Abraham,” he said to his grand vizier, “never know when they are beaten. How many times it has been reported to me that they have been wiped out of existence, or driven from the land, I know not. Yet nothing, it seems, can crush their spirit. Tell me, why is this?”

► Continue reading…

“It is because they have a firm faith in their future,” answered the vizier.

“What mean you by those words?” demanded the king, angrily.

“I speak only of what I have heard from their wise men,” the vizier replied, hastily. “They hold the belief that they will be restored as a united people to their own land.”

“Under their own king?” interrupted Hormuz.

“Under a descendant of the royal House of David,” the vizier answered, solemnly.

The king stamped his foot with rage.

“How dare they think of any other Shah but me,” he exclaimed, for his one idea of ruling over people was that he had every right to be cruel to them. Then he said suddenly, “Think you that if there were no more people who could trace their ancestry to this–this David, their faith would be shattered?”

“Peradventure, it may be so.”

“It shall be so,” cried the king. “There shall be no remnants of this House of David.”

He summoned his executioners, and when they were lined up before him, he surveyed the evil-looking band with a cunning gleam in his eye.

“Unto you,” he said, in a rasping voice, “I hand over all the descendants of the House of David to be found among the Jews in the whole of the realm of Persia. Slay them instantly. See to it that not a single one–man, woman, or child–is left alive. Woe betide you, and you my counselors”–this with a meaning glance at the grand vizier–“if my commands are not carried out to the letter. To your duties. Ye are dismissed from the presence.”

Waving them away, he indulged his fancy in thoughts of the coming executions, chuckling the while.

From day to day he received reports that his commands were being carried out. The land was filled with weeping, for the cruel butchery was worse than war. None could defend themselves. Mere suspicion was enough for the executioners. They wasted no time with doubts, but slew all who were said to belong to the House of David. The Shah looked over the list each night and chuckled. At last he was informed that all had been slaughtered.

“‘Tis well, ’tis well,” he said, rubbing his hands, gleefully, “I shall sleep in peace tonight.”

He slept in a bower in a rose garden, and nowhere in the world are the roses so magnificent and so sweet-scented as in Persia.

“I shall have pleasant dreams,” he muttered, but instead he had a nightmare that frightened him terribly.

He dreamed that he was walking in his rose garden, but instead of deriving pleasure from the beautiful trees, he was only angered.

“Are there no white, or yellow, or pink roses?” he asked, but received no answer. “All red, deep, deep red,” he muttered, in his troubled manner.

“Tell me,” he demanded fiercely, stopping before a tree heavily laden with flowers, “why are you so red today?”

And the roses spoke and replied, “Because of the innocent blood that has been shed. It is royal blood that has drenched the ground, and none but crimson roses shall bloom this year in Persia.”

“Bah!” screamed the enraged Shah and, drawing his scimitar, he began hacking right and left among the flowers. The beautiful blooms fell to the ground in great showers until the garden was so littered with the red petals that it seemed flooded with a pool of blood. At last only one tree remained, and as the Shah raised his sword to cut it down, an old man stepped from behind it and confronted the king.

“Who art thou, and whence camest thou?” the monarch asked fiercely.

No answer did the old man make. Gazing sternly into the eyes of the Shah, he raised his hand suddenly and unexpectedly, and struck the king such a violent blow that he fell sprawling to the ground. He lay half-stunned among the red petals, looking up at the old man.

“Art thou not satisfied with the destruction thou hast wrought?” the old man asked. “Must thou take the life of the last rose tree?”

The old man stooped to pick up the scimitar which had fallen from the king’s grasp.

“No, no,” screamed Hormuz, fearing that he was to be slain. He scrambled to his knees and with clasped hands pleaded to the old man. “Take not my life,” he begged. “Spare me, and I shall spare the last tree and cherish it tenderly.”

“So be it,” said the old man, holding the sword above his head. It dropped to the ground, and looking up, Hormuz saw that the stranger had vanished.

The Shah awoke. His body trembled with fear, his head was wracked by a burning pain. He looked round shudderingly to see if the angry old man still stood above him with the threatening sword. Then he sent for his wizards.

“Expound to me my horrid dream,” he said.

Their interpretations, however, did not please him.

“Ye are fools,” he cried. “Make search and find me a man of wisdom who understands these mysteries. Seek a sage among the Jews.”

The royal servants hastened to do the king’s bidding. Full well they knew that when Hormuz was in a rage, lives were quickly forfeit.

They seized the aged rabbi of the city and brought him before the Shah.

“Canst thou interpret dreams?” asked the king, abruptly, dispensing with the usual ceremonies.

“I can explain the meaning of certain things,” returned the rabbi.

“Then fail not to unravel the mystery of my dream,” said Hormuz, and he related it. “The secret I must know,” he concluded, “or—-.” But he stopped. He was afraid to add the usual threat of death that morning.

“‘Tis a simple dream,” said the rabbi, slowly. “The things of which men–and even kings are but men–dream in their sleep are connected with the deeds performed by day. Thy garden represents the House of David which thou hast sought to destroy. The old man was King David himself, and thou hast promised to cherish and nurture his one remaining descendant.”

The Shah listened in silence. Then, with a flash in his eye he said, “But all the descendants of this King David were slain.”

“All but one,” said the rabbi. “There is a boy babe, born on the day the executions ceased.”

“Where is he?” asked Hormuz.

“Your vow….” the rabbi began, nervously, for he did not wish to hand over this child to death.

“My promise shall be faithfully carried out,” interrupted the monarch.

“The boy is in my house,” said the rabbi. “His mother, who escaped the massacre, died when he was born.”

“Bring him hither,” commanded Hormuz. “Fear not.”

From his finger he drew a ring and handed it to the learned man.

“This is my bond,” he said. “The possession of this ensures thy safety.”

The child was brought to the palace, and the Shah looked at him with intent gaze.

“He shall be brought up as a prince,” said the king. “Servants, attendants and slaves shall he have in great number to minister unto all his needs. He shall be treated with the utmost kindness. And because of my dream in the garden, I name him Bostanai.”

The Shah did this because “bostan” is the Persian word for rose garden.

He touched the child with his jeweled scepter and all present bowed low before the babe and showed him the respect and devotion due to a prince.

Hormuz, however, was too cruel to be quite satisfied. He feared to harm the boy, but he wanted some proof that Bostanai was really a descendant of King David. The child grew up into a handsome, clever youth, and Hormuz, partly out of fear, but partly because he had really grown to love the boy, kept him constantly by his side.

One day, while sitting in the bower in the garden, he watched the boy among the roses. The day was hot and a drowsiness came over the king. He had not slept in that bower since the night of his fateful dream, and he was not happy about doing so now. But he did not lack courage, and he called the boy to him.

“Bostanai,” he said, “stand guard by the door, and move not while I sleep.”

Hormuz slept soundly and peacefully for some time, and when he awoke he saw the lad standing motionless where he had placed himself.

“Bostanai,” he called, and when the boy turned, he was startled to see blood trickling from a wound on his face.

“What is that?” he asked, anxiously.

“The sting of a wasp,” Bostanai replied.

“Is it not painful?”

For answer, the boy only smiled.

“How did it happen?” asked the king.

“The wasp stung me while I stood guard.”

“But couldst thou not brush it away?”

“No,” replied the boy, proudly. “King David was my ancestor, and in the presence of a king I must stand motionless until bidden to make any movement.”

Then, before the king could catch him, he swooned from loss of blood, and fell to the ground. He soon recovered, however, and the Shah’s doubts were set at rest.

“I know now thou art truly of the House of David,” he said, “for none other could have shown such fortitude.”

Bostanai became the Shah’s favorite, and when he grew up he was made the ruler of a province. He lived happily, and through him the Jews of the land also lived in prosperity and peace.

The Higgledy-Piggledy Palace

Sarah, renowned for her unmatched beauty, faced peril when Pharaoh sought to claim her as queen, believing her to be Abraham’s sister. Protected by divine intervention, Pharaoh endured mysterious torments, including physical blows and a restless night. Stricken with leprosy, he relented, releasing Sarah and Abraham with great riches. Abraham warned Pharaoh of future divine retribution if his descendants oppressed theirs—a prophecy later fulfilled.

Source
Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends
by Gertrude Landa (“Aunt Naomi”)
Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1919

► Themes of the story

Forbidden Love: Pharaoh’s desire to take Sarah, believing her to be unmarried, introduces a romantic pursuit that defies moral boundaries.

Prophecy and Fate: Abraham’s warning to Pharaoh about future repercussions for oppressing his descendants introduces a prophetic element that foreshadows future events.

Good vs. Evil: The story portrays the moral struggle between the virtuous protagonists and the oppressive ruler, emphasizing the triumph of righteousness.

► From the same Region or People

West Asia
- Jewish Lore

Learn more about Jewish mythology

Sarah, the wife of the patriarch Abraham, and the great mother of the Jewish people, was the most beautiful woman who ever lived. Everybody who saw her marveled at the dazzling radiance of her countenance; they stood spellbound before the glorious light that shone in her eyes and the wondrous clearness of her complexion. This greatly troubled Abraham when he fled from Canaan to Egypt. It was disconcerting to have crowds of travelers gazing at his wife as if she were something more than human. Besides, he feared that the Egyptians would seize Sarah for the king’s harem.

► Continue reading…

So, after much meditation, he concealed his wife in a big box. When he arrived at the Egyptian frontier, the customs officials asked him what it contained.

“Barley,” he replied.

“You say that because the duty on barley is the lowest,” they said. “The box must surely be packed with wheat.”

“I will pay the duty on wheat,” said Abraham, who was most anxious they should not open the box.

The officials were surprised, for, as a rule, people endeavored to avoid paying the duties.

“If you are so ready to pay the higher tax,” they said, “the box must contain something of greater value. Perhaps it contains spices.”

Abraham intimated his readiness to pay the duty on spices.

“Oh, Oh!” laughed the officers. “Here is a strange person ready to pay heavy dues. He must be anxious to conceal something–gold, perchance.”

“I will pay the duty on gold,” said Abraham, quietly.

The officers were now completely bewildered.

“Our highest duty,” said their chief, “is on precious stones, and since you decline to open the box, we must demand the tax on the costliest gems.”

“I will pay it,” said Abraham, simply.

The officers could not understand this at all, and after consulting among themselves, they decided that the box must be opened.

“It may contain something highly dangerous,” they argued.

Abraham protested, but he was arrested by the guards and the box forced open. When Sarah was revealed, the officials stepped back in amazement and admiration.

“Indeed, a rare jewel,” said the chief.

It was immediately decided to send Sarah to the king. When Pharaoh beheld her, he was enraptured. She was simply dressed in the garments of a peasant woman, with no adornment and no jewels, and yet the king thought he had never seen a woman so entrancingly beautiful. When he saw Abraham, however, his brow clouded.

“Who is this man?” he demanded of Sarah.

Fearing that he might be imprisoned, or even put to death if she acknowledged him as her husband, Sarah replied that he was her brother.

Pharaoh felt relieved. He smiled on Abraham and greeted him pleasantly.

“Thy sister is exceeding fair to gaze upon,” he said, “and comely of form. She hath bewitched me by her matchless charm. She shall become the favorite of my harem. I will recompense thee well for thy loss of her. Thou shalt be loaded with gifts.”

Abraham was too wise to betray the anger that surged in his heart.

“Courage, my beloved,” he whispered to Sarah. “The good God will not forsake us.”

He made pretense of agreeing to Pharaoh’s suggestion, and the chief steward of the king gave him an abundant store of gold and silver and jewels, also sheep and oxen and camels. Abraham was conducted to a beautiful palace, where many slaves attended him and bowed before him, for one on whom the monarch had showered favors was a great man in the land of Pharaoh. Left alone, Abraham began to pray most devoutly.

Meanwhile, Sarah was led into a gorgeous apartment where the queen’s own attendants were ordered to array her in the richest of the royal garments. Then she was brought before Pharaoh who dismissed all the attendants.

“I desire to be alone with thee,” said the king to Sarah. “I have much to say to thee, and I long to feast my eyes on those features of beauty rare.”

But Sarah shrank from him. To her, he appeared ugly and loathsome. His smile was a vicious leer, and his voice sounded like a harsh croak.

“Fear not,” he said, trying to speak tenderly and kindly. “I will do thee no harm. Nay, I will load thee with honors. I will grant any request that thou makest.”

“Then let me go hence,” said Sarah, quickly. “I desire naught but that thou shouldst permit me to depart with my brother.”

“Thou jestest,” said Pharaoh. “That cannot be. I will make thee queen,” he cried, passionately and he made a move toward her.

“Stop!” cried Sarah. “If thou approachest one step nearer….”

Pharaoh interrupted with a laugh. To threaten a king was so funny that he could not refrain from a hoarse cackle. But Sarah had become suddenly silent. She was looking not at him, but behind him. Pharaoh turned, but observed nothing. He could not see what Sarah saw–a figure, a spirit, clutching a big stick.

“Come,” said the king, “be not foolish. I cannot be angry with a creature so fair as thou art. But it is not meet–nay, it is not wise–to utter threats to one who wears a crown.”

Sarah made no reply. She was no longer afraid. She knew that her prayers, and those of Abraham, had been answered, and that no harm would befall her. Pharaoh mistook her silence and advanced toward her. As he did so, however, he felt a tremendous blow on the head. He was stunned for a moment. On recovering himself he looked all round the room, but could see nothing. Sarah continued to stand motionless.

“Strange,” muttered Pharaoh. “I–I thought some one had entered the room.”

Again he moved toward Sarah, and once more he received a staggering blow–this time on the shoulder. It was only by a great effort of will that he did not cry out in pain. He concluded he must have been seized by some sudden illness, but after a moment he felt better and bravely tried to smile at Sarah.

“I–I just thought of something most important,” said he, attempting to offer some explanation for nearly toppling over in an undignified manner. He stood nearer to Sarah and began to raise his hand to touch her.

“If thou layest but a finger on me, it will be at thy peril,” exclaimed Sarah, her eyes flashing angrily.

“Pshaw!” he cried, losing patience, and he raised his hand.

This time the cudgel of the spirit invisible to Pharaoh did not strike him: it came down gently and rested lightly on the king’s out-stretched arm. And Pharaoh could not move it. He grew pale and trembled.

“Art thou a witch?” he gasped, at last.

Sarah was so angry when she heard this insult that she flashed a signal with her eyes to the spirit, and the latter plied his cudgel lustily about the king’s head and shoulders, making the monarch break out in most unkingly howls of pain.

“Thy pardon, thy pardon, I crave,” he managed to scream. “I mean not what I said. I am ill–very ill. My body aches. My arm is paralyzed.”

The cudgeling ceased and Pharaoh was able to move his arm. He writhed in agony, for he was bruised all over. He rushed hastily away, saying he would return on the morrow. Sarah found herself locked in, but she was not again disturbed.

Pharaoh, however, had further adventures. The spirit was in merry mood and had a night’s entertainment at the king’s expense. No sooner did the king lie down upon his bed than the spirit tilted it and sent him sprawling on the floor. Whenever Pharaoh tried to lie down the same thing happened. He went from one room to another, but all efforts at rest were unavailing. Every bed rejected him and every chair and couch did the same, although when he commanded others to lie down they did so quite comfortably. He tried lying down with one of his attendants, but while the latter was able to remain undisturbed, Pharaoh found himself bodily lifted, stood upon his head, spun around and then rolled over on the ground.

His physicians could provide no remedy, his magicians–hastily summoned from their own slumbers–could afford no explanation, and Pharaoh spent a terrible night wandering from room to room and up and down the corridors, where the corners seemed to go out of their way to bump against him and the stairs seemed to go down when he wanted to walk up, and vice-versa. Such a higgledy-piggeldy palace was never seen. Worse still, with the first streak of dawn he noticed that he was smitten with leprosy.

Hastily he sent for Abraham and said: “Who and what thou art I know not. Thou and thy sister have brought a plague upon me. I desired to make her my queen, but now I say to you: Rid me of this leprosy and get thee hence with thy sister. I will bestow riches on ye, but get ye gone, and speedily.”

With a magic jewel which he wore on his breast, Abraham restored Pharaoh to health, and then departed with Sarah. These final words he said to Pharaoh:

“Sarah is not my sister, but my wife. I give thee this warning. Should thy descendants at any time seek to persecute our descendants, then will our God, He, the One God of the universe, surely punish the king with plague again.”

And, many years afterward, as you read in the Bible, the prediction came true.

How the Squirrel Outwitted the Elephant

A Squirrel and an Elephant debate their abilities, leading to an eating contest of palm nuts. The Squirrel cleverly enlists friends to secretly rotate during the contest, leaving the Elephant to eat alone. Eventually, the Elephant concedes defeat, learning humility and respect for smaller beings. The tale underscores the value of avoiding arrogance and rudeness, reflecting cultural norms against belittling others.

Source
Among Congo Cannibals
by John H. Weeks
Seeley, Service & Co.,London, 1913

► Themes of the story

Trickster: The squirrel employs cunning and deception to outsmart the elephant during their eating contest.

Good vs. Evil: The narrative contrasts the squirrel’s cleverness and humility with the elephant’s initial arrogance, highlighting the triumph of wit over pride.

Conflict with Authority: The smaller, seemingly powerless squirrel challenges the larger, authoritative elephant, demonstrating that size and strength do not always determine the outcome.

► From the same Region or People

Central Africa
- Boloki Lore

Learn more about Bantu peoples

The Squirrel and the Elephant met one day in the forest and had a big discussion about forest matters. At last the Elephant sneeringly said: “You are a Squirrel, you are only a little bit of a thing. Can you hold either my foot or my leg? No, you are too small to touch even one of my legs!”

“You may be a big thing,” retorted the Squirrel, “but can you keep on eating palm nuts as long as I can?”

► Continue reading…

After much talk they decided to collect bunches of palm nuts, and when all was ready they sat down to the eating contest. Before beginning, however, the Squirrel had secreted a number of his friends in the forest near by.

The Elephant began the contest by putting a bunch of palm nuts into his mouth; but the Squirrel took the nuts one by one and ate them. And when the Squirrel was full he made some excuse and slipped away, and another squirrel took his place. In this way Squirrel after Squirrel exchanged places with each other unnoticed by the Elephant, who continued to eat all the morning, and the big pile of palm nuts grew smaller and smaller.

At last the Elephant asked: “Are you full, friend Squirrel?”

“No,” answered the last Squirrel, “I feel as though I had only just begun.”

“Is that so?” grunted the Elephant. “Well, you are a wonderful little thing. Why, I am getting fuller and fuller,”

After that they went on eating again.

In the afternoon the Elephant asked again: “Friend Squirrel, are you full yet?”

“No,” rephed the last Squirrel, “I have not eaten half enough yet.” And he took up some more nuts to eat.

The Elephant had not room for more than a sigh; and towards sunset he said: “I am full, and cannot eat any more palm nuts.”

Thus the Elephant confessed he was beaten, and ever after that he refrained from annoying and ridiculing his friends and neighbours because they were smaller than himself. The natives are very careful not to taunt slaves about their condition, or to twit a person about poverty or lowly birth. It is considered to be the acme of rudeness to remind another that he is not so fine a fellow as you are, or as he thinks he is. Of course, folk often lost their temper and said bitter things to each other.

The Eagle Leaves the Tortoise in the Lurch

A Leopard entrusted her children to a Tortoise while hunting. The Tortoise deceived her, feeding her children to an Eagle with whom he made a pact. When all the children were gone, the Leopard discovered the betrayal and pursued the Tortoise, who sought the Eagle’s help. Ultimately abandoned by the Eagle, the Tortoise was caught and killed, teaching the animals to fear harming a Leopard’s offspring.

Source
Among Congo Cannibals
by John H. Weeks
Seeley, Service & Co.,London, 1913

► Themes of the story

Good vs. Evil: The narrative highlights the moral conflict between the Leopard’s trust and the deceitful actions of the Tortoise and Eagle.

Cunning and Deception: The Tortoise employs deceit to mislead the Leopard and collaborate with the Eagle.

Divine Punishment: The Tortoise’s ultimate fate can be seen as a form of retribution for his transgressions.

► From the same Region or People

Central Africa
- Boloki Lore

Learn more about Bantu peoples

A Leopard had three young children, and she asked the Tortoise to take care of them while she was away hunting. “Very well,” said the Tortoise, “I will nurse them for you.” So the Leopard went hunting, and after a time she returned with some meat which she wished to give to her children.

“No, no, do not open the door,” whispered the Tortoise, “your children are asleep. Throw the meat in at the window.” The meat was passed through the window, and the Leopard went off hunting again.

► Continue reading…

While the Leopard was gone the second time, an Eagle came to the Tortoise and said: “Friend Tortoise, let us make blood-brotherhood.”

The Tortoise agreed, and the friendship was properly made. After a short time the Eagle asked the Tortoise for one of the children to eat, and one was taken, and they ate it between them.

By and by the Leopard returned again from the hunt with some more meat; but the Tortoise pretended that the children were asleep; so the meat was again put through the window, and off went the Leopard to hunt in the forest.

The Eagle then came and begged for another child, and receiving it he went and ate it on a high tree.

When the Leopard returned next time, she insisted on seeing the children, but the Tortoise said: “You stop there and I will show them to you at the window.”

The Tortoise then took up the only child left, and holding it at the window he said, “That is one.” He put it down and held it up again, and said, “That is two.” Then he showed it again at the window for the third time, and said, “That is three.” The Leopard, thereupon, went away satisfied.

The Eagle came again and asked for the “other child to eat.”

“What shall I do,” asked the Tortoise, “when the Leopard returns and finds all her children are gone?”

“Oh, I will take care of you,” said the Eagle reassuringly; “I will fly with you to a high tree.”The last child was given and eaten, and then the Eagle took the Tortoise to the branch of a very high tree.

Shortly after the Eagle had carried off the Tortoise the Leopard returned, and finding all her children gone she wept very loudly for some time; then looking about her she saw the Tortoise on the top of a tree.

The Leopard gnawed at the tree, and just as it was going to fall the Tortoise called out to his friend, the Eagle, to help him. The Eagle carried him to another tree. The Leopard gnawed that one; so the Eagle removed the Tortoise to another high tree; but the Leopard gnawed that also.

The Tortoise called for his friend, the Eagle; but the Eagle replied: “I am tired of helping you, take care of yourself,” and off he flew, leaving his friend in the lurch, and never returned again. The tree fell, and the Leopard killed the Tortoise. That is why the bush animals are afraid to hurt the Leopard’s children.

Mbungi and his Punishment

Mbungi, a selfish husband, deceived his wife to keep all the meat from their hunting trips while denying her food. In retaliation, she cleverly withheld fish she caught. Enraged, Mbungi killed her, but her vengeful spirit pursued him relentlessly. Eventually, her family discovered the truth and executed him, marking the origin of murder in this tale. The story explores greed, justice, and supernatural retribution.

Source
Among Congo Cannibals
by John H. Weeks
Seeley, Service & Co.,London, 1913

► Themes of the story

Good vs. Evil: Mbungi’s selfishness and deceit contrast sharply with his wife’s fairness, highlighting the moral struggle between malevolent and virtuous behaviors.

Revenge and Justice: After Mbungi murders his wife, her spirit seeks retribution, and ultimately, her family enacts justice by executing him, underscoring themes of vengeance and moral reckoning.

Divine Punishment: Mbungi’s relentless torment by his wife’s spirit can be interpreted as a form of divine retribution for his heinous acts.

► From the same Region or People

Central Africa
- Boloki Lore

Learn more about Bantu peoples

Mbungi one day said to his wife: “Dig up some cassava, prepare it, and cut down some plantain, for we will go hunting and fishing.”

The wife did as she was told, and in a short time everything was ready for the journey. They put their goods into a canoe and paddled away to their hunting and fishing camp. After resting, the man went and dug a hole and set his traps; and the next morning he found an antelope and a bush-pig in the hole. These he took to the camp, cut up, and gave to his wife to cook.

► Continue reading…

By and by when all was cooked she brought the meat to her husband, and as she was taking her portion he said: “Wait, I will ask the forest-folk (or spirits) if you may eat it.”

He went and pretended to ask the forest-folk, and brought back a message that if she ate the meat the traps would lose their luck and catch no more animals. In this way the selfish husband had all the meat for himself and his wife went hungry, [a person considered he had not made a meal if he had no meat or fish to eat with his cassava] Mbungi found many animals in his traps, and the woman, because of the prohibition, did not have her share of them.

One day the woman made some fish-traps and set them, and on her return to the camp the husband wanted to know where she had been, but she refused to tell him. Next day she went to look at her traps and found many fish in them, which she brought to the camp and cooked. Mbungi, however, returned unsuccessful from his traps; but when he saw his wife’s fish he laughed and said: “Bring the fish here for me to eat.”

“Wait,” answered the woman, “I will ask the forest-folk if you may eat the fish.” And she brought back a reply that he was not to eat the fish, for if he did so the fish-traps would lose their luck.

It was now Mbungi’s turn to be hungry. Days and days passed and he caught no more animals; but his wife always had plenty of fish. He became very thin and angry. One day he drew his large knife, and cutting off the head of his wife he buried the head and the trunk together in the ground, and departed for his town.

Mbungi had not gone very far on his way when he heard a voice shouting: “Mbungi, wait for me, we will go together!” He wondered who was calling him, so he hid himself, and in a little time he saw the head of his wife coming along the road calling after him.

He went, and catching the head he cut it into small pieces and buried it again; but before he had gone far he heard it shouting: “Mbungi, wait for me, we will go together!” He cut and buried it again and again, but it was no use, it continued to follow and call after him.

Mbungi reached his town, and his wife’s family asked him: “Where is your wife?” “Oh, she is coming on behind,” he replied. They accused him of killing her, but this he strongly denied. While he was denying the charge of murder the head came right into the town; and when the family saw it they immediately tied up Mbungi and killed him. This was how murder was first introduced into the world.

The Spider and the Fly

This story explains the enduring animosity between spiders and flies. Mr. Spider repeatedly proposed to Miss Fly, who consistently rejected him. When he approached her house once more, she defended herself by throwing boiling water at him. Enraged, Mr. Spider vowed eternal enmity toward her and her kind. This tale illustrates their timeless conflict, symbolizing nature’s perpetual predator-prey dynamics.

Source
Philippine Folk Tales
compiled and annotated by
Mabel Cook Cole
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1916

► Themes of the story

Good vs. Evil: The narrative portrays the conflict between Mr. Spider’s persistent advances and Miss Fly’s defensive actions, highlighting the struggle between opposing forces.

Cunning and Deception: Miss Fly’s clever tactic of using boiling water to fend off Mr. Spider demonstrates the use of wit to achieve her goal.

Conflict with Nature: The story reflects the natural animosity between spiders and flies, symbolizing inherent conflicts in the animal kingdom.

► From the same Region or People

Southeast Asia
- Philippines
  - Visayan Lore

Learn more about Philippines peoples

Mr. Spider wanted to marry Miss Fly. Many times he told her of his love and begged her to become his wife, but she always refused for she did not like him. One day when she saw Mr. Spider coming again Miss Fly closed all the doors and windows of her house and made ready a pot of boiling water. Then she waited, and when Mr. Spider called, begging her to allow him to enter, she answered by throwing boiling water at him. This made Mr. Spider very angry and he cried: “I will never forgive you for this, but I and my descendants will always despise you. We will never give you any peace.” Mr. Spider kept his word, and even today one can see the hatred of the spider for the fly.

► Continue reading…

Mythology of Mindanao

The legend of Indarapatra and Sulayman tells of four monstrous creatures terrorizing Mindanao, devastating its people and lands. King Indarapatra sends his brother Sulayman to defeat them. Sulayman slays three beasts but dies fighting a giant bird. Indarapatra revives him using heavenly water and kills the final monster. Peace is restored, the people emerge from hiding, and Indarapatra marries the headman’s daughter, uniting the land in harmony.

Source
Philippine Folk Tales
compiled and annotated by
Mabel Cook Cole
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1916

► Themes of the story

Hero’s Journey: Both Indarapatra and Sulayman embark on transformative adventures, facing formidable challenges to restore peace to their land.

Supernatural Beings: The narrative features monstrous creatures like Kurita, Tarabusaw, and the seven-headed bird, highlighting interactions with supernatural entities.

Good vs. Evil: The struggle between the heroic brothers and the malevolent monsters embodies the classic conflict between opposing forces.

► From the same Region or People

Southeast Asia
- Philippines
  - Moro Lore

Learn more about Philippines peoples

A long, long time ago Mindanao was covered with water, and the sea extended over all the lowlands so that nothing could be seen but mountains. Then there were many people living in the country, and all the highlands were dotted with villages and settlements.

For many years the people prospered, living in peace and contentment. Suddenly there appeared in the land four horrible monsters which, in a short time, had devoured every human being they could find.

► Continue reading…

Kurita, a terrible creature with many limbs, lived partly on land and partly in the sea, but its favorite haunt was the mountain where the rattan grew; and here it brought utter destruction on every living thing. The second monster, Tarabusaw, an ugly creature in the form of a man, lived on Mt. Matutun, and far and wide from that place he devoured the people, laying waste the land. The third, an enormous bird called Pah, was so large that when on the wing it covered the sun and brought darkness to the earth. Its egg was as large as a house. Mt. Bita was its haunt, and there the only people who escaped its voracity were those who hid in caves in the mountains. The fourth monster was a dreadful bird also, having seven heads and the power to see in all directions at the same time. Mt. Gurayn was its home and like the others it wrought havoc in its region.

So great was the death and destruction caused by these terrible animals that at length the news spread even to the most distant lands, and all nations were grieved to hear of the sad fate of Mindanao.

Now far across the sea in the land of the golden sunset was a city so great that to look at its many people would injure the eyes of man. When tidings of these great disasters reached this distant city, the heart of the king Indarapatra was filled with compassion, and he called his brother, Sulayman, begging him to save the land of Mindanao from the monsters.

Sulayman listened to the story, and as he heard he was moved with pity.

“I will go,” said he, zeal and enthusiasm adding to his strength, “and the land shall be avenged.”

King Indarapatra, proud of his brother’s courage, gave him a ring and a sword as he wished him success and safety. Then he placed a young sapling by his window and said to Sulayman:

“By this tree I shall know your fate from the time you depart from here, for if you live, it will live; but if you die, it will die also.”

So Sulayman departed for Mindanao, and he neither walked nor used a boat, but he went through the air and landed on the mountain where the rattan grew. There he stood on the summit and gazed about on all sides. He looked on the land and the villages, but he could see no living thing. And he was very sorrowful and cried out:

“Alas, how pitiful and dreadful is this devastation!”

No sooner had Sulayman uttered these words than the whole mountain began to move, and then shook. Suddenly out of the ground came the horrible creature, Kurita. It sprang at the man and sank its claws into his flesh. But Sulayman, knowing at once that this was the scourge of the land, drew his sword and cut the Kurita to pieces.

Encouraged by his first success, Sulayman went on to Mt. Matutun where conditions were even worse. As he stood on the heights viewing the great devastation there was a noise in the forest and a movement in the trees. With a loud yell, forth leaped Tarabusaw. For a moment they looked at each other, neither showing any fear. Then Tarabusaw threatened to devour the man, and Sulayman declared that he would kill the monster. At that the animal broke large branches off the trees and began striking at Sulayman who, in turn, fought back. For a long time the battle continued until at last the monster fell exhausted to the ground and then Sulayman killed him with his sword.

The next place visited by Sulayman was Mt. Bita. Here havoc was present everywhere, and though he passed by many homes, not a single soul was left. As he walked along, growing sadder at each moment, a sudden darkness which startled him fell over the land. As he looked toward the sky he beheld a great bird descending upon him. Immediately he struck at it, cutting off its wing with his sword, and the bird fell dead at his feet; but the wing fell on Sulayman, and he was crushed.

Now at this very time King Indarapatra was sitting at his window, and looking out he saw the little tree wither and dry up.

“Alas!” he cried, “my brother is dead”; and he wept bitterly.

Then although he was very sad, he was filled with a desire for revenge, and putting on his sword and belt he started for Mindanao in search of his brother.

He, too, traveled through the air with great speed until he came to the mountain where the rattan grew. There he looked about, awed at the great destruction, and when he saw the bones of Kurita he knew that his brother had been there and gone. He went on till he came to Matutun, and when he saw the bones of Tarabusaw he knew that this, too, was the work of Sulayman.

Still searching for his brother, he arrived at Mt. Bita where the dead bird lay on the ground, and as he lifted the severed wing he beheld the bones of Sulayman with his sword by his side. His grief now so overwhelmed Indarapatra that he wept for some time. Upon looking up he beheld a small jar of water by his side. This he knew had been sent from heaven, and he poured the water over the bones, and Sulayman came to life again. They greeted each other and talked long together. Sulayman declared that he had not been dead but asleep, and their hearts were full of joy.

After some time Sulayman returned to his distant home, but Indarapatra continued his journey to Mt. Gurayn where he killed the dreadful bird with the seven heads. After these monsters had all been destroyed and peace and safety had been restored to the land, Indarapatra began searching everywhere to see if some of the people might not be hidden in the earth still alive.

One day during his search he caught sight of a beautiful woman at a distance. When he hastened toward her she disappeared through a hole in the ground where she was standing. Disappointed and tired, he sat down on a rock to rest, when, looking about, he saw near him a pot of uncooked rice with a big fire on the ground in front of it. This revived him and he proceeded to cook the rice. As he did so, however, he heard someone laugh near by, and turning he beheld an old woman watching him. As he greeted her, she drew near and talked with him while he ate the rice.

Of all the people in the land, the old woman told him, only a very few were still alive, and they hid in a cave in the ground from whence they never ventured. As for herself and her old husband, she went on, they had hidden in a hollow tree, and this they had never dared leave until after Sulayman killed the voracious bird, Pah.

At Indarapatra’s earnest request, the old woman led him to the cave where he found the headman with his family and some of his people. They all gathered about the stranger, asking many questions, for this was the first they had heard about the death of the monsters. When they found what Indarapatra had done for them, they were filled with gratitude, and to show their appreciation the headman gave his daughter to him in marriage, and she proved to be the beautiful girl whom Indarapatra had seen at the mouth of the cave.

Then the people all came out of their hiding-place and returned to their homes where they lived in peace and happiness. And the sea withdrew from the land and gave the lowlands to the people.