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 ---> Part Ten: The Family Reunion

W HEN Sri Suvarna and Sin Samudr heard of the peril that threatened Phra Abhai Mani, they at once took leave of the ruler of Ratana and lost no time in embarking on their long journey back to Paleuk.

For the first few days, the voyage was calm and serene, without any untoward incident. Then, one evening, their ship reached a large island just as a storm was arising. Deeming it wise to seek shelter, as well as to replenish the store of water, Sri Suvarna gave orders to heave to and drop anchor in a secluded bay. A landing party was sent ashore to bring back supplies of fresh water.

As the men were returning to the beach with pails and barrels, a ferocious lion of immense size sprang upon them from the thick undergrowth. The sailors scattered in all directions. Those who retained some presence of mind fired their muskets at the beast, but this only served to enrage it the more. With a resounding roar of anger, the monster pounced on the men who happened to be nearest, and then chased the rest into the sea. The latter swam for dear life, as well they might, for, strange to relate, the lion plunged in after them and followed at their heels right to the ship's side.

Hearing the commotion, Sin Samudr stepped out on to the deck and saw what was happening. Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt into the sea and engaged the beast with his bare hands. A tremendous tussle followed, and the trial of strength ended with the boy ensconced on the lion's back.

The amphibious monster was not yet beaten, however. With an angry howl, it bounced Sin Samudr into the air. But the resourceful youngster evaded its gaping jaw and clutched its tail, using this as a lever to regain the saddle. The lion, finding this diminutive human more than a match for its own strength, made a bee line for the shore, with Sin Samudr still astride its back, and roared for help. In an instant, the beach was crowded with snarling lions.

Undaunted, Sin Samudr dived into the sea and came up with an armful of small fishes. These he calmly scattered among the beast, which began to devour them greedily. Meanwhile, the fearless son of Phra Abhai Mani walked in their midst and stroked each by the mane. By the time he came up to his former adversary, even this fierce monster was completely appeased. There and then, Sin Samudr decided to take it along with him as his future steed.

The boy thereupon led the lion, now tame as a kitten, back to the ship, where they were greeted with wonder and astonishment, and not a little trepidation on the part of those who had occasion to know its ferocity. Approaching his uncle, Sin Samudr said: "I want to have this lion as my steed. It is invulnerable, is as strong in the sea as on land, and feeds on fish. It will make an incomparable companion." Sri Suvarna agreed with his nephew, and so a new recruit was added to the brave company.

The remainder of the voyage was uneventful. However, as the ship drew near to Paleuk, the sky reddened. Full of foreboding, Sri Suvarna urged more speed and hastened into the city. They were welcomed by Suvarnamali who, pale and distraught, told them of repeated attacks by the allies of Laweng and of Phra Abhai Mani's strange obsession for the bewitched portrait of the Princess of the Western Isle.

The unhappy Queen then took Sri Suvarna and Sin Samudr into the royal apartment, where Phra Abhai Mani, now emaciated and bedridden, lay ever contemplating the likeness of Laweng, the amorous hero saw them coming, but instead of expressing delight, flew into a towering rage and, accusing them of spying on him, shouted to his handmaidens to chase them away.

When Sri Suvarna saw that his brother was not in his right mind, he felt as though stabbed to the heart. Drawing near, he knelt down beside the royal couch and spoke in the gentlest manner.

"My dear brother," he began, "I have long been out of your sight. Now I am returned, bringing your beloved son with me. 0, why do you greet us in this fashion? Have you forgotten your own kith and kin? Why do you persist thus in making love to a mere picture? Oh, what misfortune has brought you to this pass? Even though you and I were cruelly separated when still young, yet we lived to see each other's face again. But this time you have changed, and look strangely on me."

Sin Samudr took the cue and, bowing low at his father's feet, exclaimed with tears in his eyes: "My father, beat or kill me if you will, but I must tell you that I do not like this picture. It is because you have it near you that you behave so strangely. I am going to take it and burn it."

Suiting action to the word, the boy snatched the portrait away from his father's hand. Quick as lightning, Phra Abhai Mani snatched it back again. Then pointing his finger at Sin Samudr in uncontrolled fury, he cried: "How dare you touch her!" Seizing a pillow, the crazed King struck at his brother, and his son, until they both ran out of the room.

Back in her own chamber Suvarnamali told her astonished brother-in-law and her adopted son, "The astrologers say that he will be saved, and that by an unknown offspring. Now, there has arrived in this city a young boy who calls himself Sud Sakorn and who claims to be the son of Phra Abhai Mani. Indeed, in saving the city at a critical moment, he has shown valour worthy of the name. But where he comes from and of what womb, he will not say."

Sri Suvarna remained mystified, but Sin Samudr thought long and then said: "When we were living on the magic island, my father kept company with a mermaid who once bore him on her back to safety. In requitement of her love, he gave her a signet ring and a bejewelled pin. If this Sud Sakorn be indeed her son, he would surely wear these tokens of parental affection. I will find out whether he has them."

Sri Suvarna was in agreement with his nephew's reasoning and proposal. "If he is really your half-brother," he told him, "you may bring the boy to us."

Sin Samudr mounted the royal chariot and proceeded to the pavilion where Sud Sakorn was lodged. From afar, he saw the stripling whose face was the graven image of the mermaid. As he came closer, he saw his father's signet ring on the other's finger, which removed all doubt. Sud Sakorn, on his part, recognised his elder from the description given him by the old hermit. So the two brothers, acting simultaneously, rushed to embrace each other, with tears of joy flowing down their tender cheeks.

Fraternal greetings and exchanges over, Sin Samudr and Sud Sakorn set to discussing the sorry plight of their father. The older told the younger how Phra Abhai Mani was enraptured with the portrait of a bewitching female who sought to destroy him.

Sud Sakorn seemed scarcely perturbed. "Do not worry," he said, with the air of one accustomed to dealing with such problems. "Even if the woman is a witch, I can counter her charms. The learned hermit, my foster father, gave me this magic stick. With it I have quelled ghosts and devils. What female witch would dare stand up to me?"

Sin Samudr held up his hand in admiration. "Is that really true, dear brother? Then let us go together and destroy this witch. My mother and our uncle will be pleased."

So the two young brothers went arm in arm to the palace, where they were warmly received by Sri Suvarna and Suvarnamali. The latter were delighted to hear that Sud Sakorn knew how to exorcise the malign spirit that was in the picture, and asked if he required any assistance.

"No," replied the boy, confidently. "Just give me the portrait, and I will beat it with my stick."

Suvarnamali told Sin Samudr to go to his father's chamber and try to obtain possession of the article. Sin Samudr went willingly and stealthily entered Phra Abhai Mani's room. He saw his father asleep on the couch, the guilty object beside him. Quietly, he crept up and successfully removed it, without disturbing the troubled sleeper, and quickly brought it in triumph to his brother.

Sud Sakorn placed the portrait on the floor. Then he uttered a prayer and an incantation. That done, he picked up the magic stick and, lifting it, brought it down on the portrait with a swift, sharp blow. A shrill scream rent the air, and it appeared to come from the parchment. Sud Sakorn struck again and again, until the parchment shrivelled up and suddenly vanished.

All four hurried into Phra Abhai Mani's chamber. The King was still asleep, but gave a deep sigh of relief. Suvarnamali approached the royal couch and bathed his face with water of fresh jasmine and roses. At that moment a great cry of joy echoed through the palace; the courtiers and guards had heard of Sud Sakorn's victory over the evil spirit. Phra Abhai Mani woke up with a start. He slowly lifted himself upon the couch as the recollection of a bad dream passed away from him. He looked round and saw his consort, his brother, his son, and a younger boy seated beside him. His eyes rested on this boy, and gradually he observed in his features a resemblance to the mermaid he had long ago forsaken. The King called the boy to him and tenderly placed his arm round the young shoulders, saying, "My son, my lost son of your poor mermaid mother!"

Phra Abhai Mani's family was at last reunited. Thus strengthened, they would together give battle to the enemy hosts arrayed against them. It was not long before the King regained his vigour and presided over a council of war. It was decided to dispose the command in this wise : the vanguard would be under Sri Suvarna, the right wing under Sin Samudr, the left wing under Sud Sakorn, the rearguard under the three Brahmin warriors. The main body of the army, under the personal command of Phra Abhai Mani, would be in the centre.

Therefore, when the concerted attack launched by the allies of Lanka finally came, the forces of Paleuk were fully prepared. On the day of battle, a mighty army was assembled outside the palace. At the auspicious hour selected by the astrologers, the gongs of victory were sounded, and the soldiers raised a shout that thundered to the heavens. To the accompaniment of trumpets and conches, Sri Suvarna ascended his chariot. To that of drums, Sin Samudr mounted his ferocious lion and Sud Sakorn his swift dragon steed. The three Brahmins were astride horses of sturdy build. Finally, Phra Abhai Mani took his place on the golden chariot of state, amid shouts and blowings of trumpets and conches and the beating of drums. The entire army, with its full panoply of war and colourful banners, moved forward into the field.

Drawn up against them were the eight armies of the enemy, each with the flags of their several nations. Each was led by generals of great fame who were determined to lead their men to victory.

Phra Abhai Mani watched the two sides deploying for battle. He knew that, by playing a few notes on his magic flute, he could still the advancing tides and thus achieve an easy triumph. But that would not be the heroic way of deciding the issue. Besides, he wished to see his sons win their spurs in combat of arms and gain immortal renown. So he sent a herald to the enemy bearing this challenge: by ancient laws of chivalry, in order to spare the lives of common soldiers, the commanders of opposing camps themselves engage in single combat; if the allies of Lanka dared to match their strength against the leading warriors of Paleuk, let them send their champions on to the field.

The enemy generals quickly accepted the challenge. One of them, a burly warrior in a black cloak who looked like an enormous tiger, armed with an axe and a lance, spurred his horse forward shouting defiance; "Come, whoever dares, and fight me according to the challenge!"

Sin Samudr at once went forward on his lion to meet the adversary, who tried to pierce him with the lance but, failing, used his axe. The boy was too quick for him, however, and wrested the axe from him. The general then feigned retreat, allowing the boy almost to catch up with him, and, suddenly turning, hurled an iron ball which hit Sin Samudr on the chest so that the latter, fell senseless from his mount. He was about to make mincemeat of the boy when Sud Sakorn rode up to challenge him. He turned quick as lightning and struck the brother with another iron ball and felled him also. It was now the turn of their uncle to come to the rescue. Swinging his club, Sri Suvarna eluded several successive missiles thrown at him, closed in and dealt the general a mortal blow.

Another of the enemy general rode forward to attack Sri Suvarna and, swinging a rope, caught the latter's club and sent it flying, at the same time bringing him down to the ground. Fortunately, by this time, Sin Samudr had recovered and now came to his uncle's aid. With a deft stroke of his axe, he quickly dispatched the second general. But he, in turn, was struck by a third general who wielded a sword of fire. Sri Suvarna rose and swung his club, but it was no match for the sword. It was left to Sud Sakorn, who had also recovered from the blow of the iron ball, to carry on the duel. With a well-calculated swing of his magic stick, he severed the head of the third general from the body.

The fourth enemy general came on to the field with a cauldron of flaming oil in each hand. These he hurled at the two young brothers and scorched them with fire. Then, emboldened, he galloped towards Phra Abhai Mani, calling out, "Hey, king! Be quick and surrender!" Sri Suvarna came up after him and successfully clubbed him to earth, but was forced to retire when the resourceful warrior threw flaming oil on his hand which held the club. At that instant, Sin Samudr shot an arrow which hit the general in the right eye and eliminated him from the fray.

As evening fell both sides retired for the night, to preserve strength for the morrow. Phra Abhai Mani hastened to receive his sons, who were so sorely burned by the flaming oil that they both fainted away. Brought into camp, physicians were summoned to attend them but they did not recover. As a last resort, the King asked the Brahmin Sanon to exercise his art. This the latter did, and soon enough the clouds

burst and rain fell in great abundance. The two youngsters were taken out and their burns bathed in the pure water, which washed away the corrosive oil. Sin Samudr and Sud Sakorn were thus restored to health.

Meanwhile, the steady downpour of rain continued and intensified as the night wore on. The enemy troops shivered and made attempts to light fires, but failed because the ground and the wood were damp. Finally, to add to their discomfort, a hailstorm flattened all the tents in their camps. Dawn found them cold, disheartened and desperate.

Phra Abhai Mani came to the conclusion that it would be kinder to the enemy and more expedient for all to make a quick end of the battle. He therefore ordered a general advance of his troops. Beating their gongs and shouting shrill battle cries, the men of Paleuk marched forward. The opposing armies, losing what courage they still possessed, turned and fled in panic. Phra Abhai Mani's forces chased them to the sea, where they embarked in utter confusion and sailed speedily back to their several lands.

Thus ended the invasion of Paleuk by the allies of Lanka. Phra Abhai Mani, his brother, his sons, his commanders and his men, returned in triumph to the city, where they were enthusiastically received by the joyful populace.

---> Part Nine : The Infant Prodigy

Meanwhile Phra Abhai Mani was encountering all these adventures, warlike and amorous, his mermaid-mistress whom he had left on the magic island brought up his second son, Sud Sakorn, to lusty boyhood. Being no ordinary mortal, Sud Sakorn grew quickly in strength and intelligence. By the time he was ten months old, he was as fully developed as a normal child ten years of age. He no longer had to rely on his mother for sustenance and protection. So, very reluctantly, the mermaid decided that she could no longer keep him entirely to her own watery element and resolved to place the boy in the care and guidance of the wise hermit who ruled the island.

The hermit gladly took Sud Sakorn to his cell. He fed the child on wild bananas and cow's milk, until he was healthy and strong. Sud Sakorn spent much of his time running about in the neighbourhood of the cell, chasing cattle and buffaloes and riding on their backs. Sometimes he would go down to the cove and play with the fishes, until the hermit tired himself out with calling him to return to the cell. However, the hermit insisted on Sud Sakorn learning how to read and write, how to take care of himself and defend himself.

One day, when he was about three years old, he escaped from the cell while the hermit was in deep meditation, and went down to the cove to chase the fishes. Finding one of largish size, he mounted its back and together they sped away far out to sea. At a considerable distance from the island, Sud Sakorn saw a monster he had never met with before. It was a giant sea horse with a black body, a face like a dragon's and a tail like a sea-serpent's. Taking a fancy to this creature many times his own size, he grabbed hold of it. Immediately, the great beast swung round and seized the little boy in its jaws. With a titanic struggle, Sud Sakorn shook himself loose and succeeded in getting on to its back. Roaring angrily, the monster tried to upset its rider in every conceivable way-leaping into the air, rolling over and swishing its enormous tail. But Sud Sakorn held on for dear life. The strange ride went on until the evening when, fearing that the hermit would be angry, the boy jumped off the creature's back and swam to the island. Running to meet the hermit, he recounted the whole amazing adventure.

The hermit knew at once that his pupil had encountered the offspring of a dragon that had mated with a horse. That was why it had the head and tail of a dragon but the body of a horse. He also thought how appropriate it would be if the creature could be tamed to serve as a mount for Sud Sakorn. He said this to the boy and told him how it could be caught and rendered harmless by means of a magic spell. Sud Sakorn made every effort to memorise what the hermit had taught him before falling asleep that night.

Early the next morning, Sud Sakorn rose and, finding a piece of rope, immediately descended to the cove where one of his finned friends was waiting to take him out to sea. Out among the big breakers, he saw the sea-dragon-horse cantering on the surface. Drawing closer, he leapt from his mount and seized the monster by its whiskers. With an angry roar, the latter shook its huge head and flung the boy into the sea, the while lashing furiously with its tail and attempting to snap him in its jaws.

Undaunted, Sud Sakorn again approached and seized the beast's whiskers once more. At the same moment, he slipped the rope's noose over its head. Taking advantage of the animal's temporary confusion, he mounted its back and quickly repeated seven times the magic incantation he had learned of the hermit. Suddenly, the sea-horse seemed to lose all its strength and resisted no more. Sud Sakorn then blew on its head six times, and found that by now the steed was his and was perfectly amenable to his direction. Flushed with triumph, he headed towards the shore and soon the monster was galloping up the sandy slope in the direction of the hermit's cell.

The hermit was seated at ease trimming his beard. When he saw his pupil in full control of the monster, he gave a delighted chuckle and called out to him: "Ho, there! Do not gallop about so much, but bring the beast here! I want to have a look at its funny head."

Sud Sakorn obediently dismounted and led his steed to the hermit, who examined it closely with much interest. Then with another chuckle, the venerable old man said to Sud Sakorn, "It is strange and amusing, being no less than a number of different animals all rolled into one. It has the strength of a giant, and is invulnerable. It has molars of diamonds and scales of onyx. It is equally capable of feeding on human flesh, crab, fish, grass and leaves. If you use it as your steed, you yourself will also be invulnerable. I will give it the name Nilmangkorn. You may let it go now. There is no need to tie it up, but let it roam at will. When you need your steed, call Nilmangkorn and it will come to you."

The hermit felt that now was the time to tell Sud Sakorn something of his royal ancestry. So he drew the boy to his side and told him how his father, a prince and heir to a kingdom, had been assisted by his mermaid mother to escape from the clutches of a giantess; how they had fallen in love on that very island; and how Phra Abhai Mani sailed away shortly before Sud Sakorn was born.

The hermit then said to him, "Now you are old enough to fend for yourself. You must go after your father and find him. It is not meet that you should stay here and do nothing."

Sud Sakorn felt sorry for his father who had met with so many misadventures. At once he replied, "It is shameful for a son to leave his father thus. I must beg your permission to go and search for him, even if I die in doing so. Please tell me, in which direction did he go?"

"Your royal father," replied the hermit, exercising his powers of far vision, "is now the ruler of Paleuk, and is about to make war wi~h Lanka. Where my arm is now pointing, in that direction you will find him. But the way is long and difficult, and you may go astray. Nor is it without dangers. You will encounter fierce and evil spirits, ghosts and wicked men. But I see that nothing deters you from your wish to seek your father; that is good and right, for gratitude to one's parents is the greatest virtue."

The hermit then picked up a long, crooked stick and handed it to Sud Sakorn, who was dwarfed by it, saying: "Take this magic stick with you. Keep it always with you, and never let it go from your hand. As a weapon, it is as effective as a bow and arrows or a dagger. Moreover, it is an impenetrable shield against all kind of arms."

The wise old man also put the golden hair pin which Phra Abhai Mani had left with him into the boy's top-knot, and wrapped a tiger's hide round him in the manner of an ascetic. A tall head-piece of skin completed the outfit, and made Sud Sakorn look like a diminutive hermit. The old man then distilled some scented rose-wood and anointed the forehead of the boy. Sud Sakorn bowed low and reverently to the hermit.

The time came for Phra Abhai Mani's son to take leave of his mermaid-mother. He went down to the cover and called her. She came, her eyes filled with tears, but her heart full of pride. Sud Sakorn turned to the hermit and said, "Now that I am leaving this island, I am concerned about my mother. Would you please look after her, holy sir? There is no one but you to give her protection until I return again."

The hermit was moved to compassion and said, "You have no need to worry, I will look after her and see to her wants, such as they are."

Thus reassured, Sud Sakorn took his leave. The hermit gave his blessing. Then the boy called Nilmangkorn and led the great steed to the shore where, after taking a last farewell of his mother, he mounted and sped over the ocean.

Nilmangkorn galloped tirelessly on the crest of the waves. All that Sud Sakorn could see was a wide expanse of water with occasional glimpses of green islets on the distant horizon. It was not long before they reached the lost kingdom of Thao Pakka. The country was once prosperous. But the people forsook the religion and morality of their forefathers and took to evil ways, and so one day the whole island sank beneath the sea, drowning all its inhabitants. This spot therefore became the abode of ghosts which preyed on the wreckage of sunken ships lured on to the treacherous reefs because the ghosts conjured up a vision of the once-stately city.

Sud Sakorn did not know this. As he approached, all he saw was a beautiful and glittering town with citizens going hither and thither about their business. Some of them hailed him and invited him to enter. As he was tired and needed a rest, he decided to stop awhile and see what the place could offer him. He guided Nilmangkorn through the city gate. As soon as he did so, he perceived to his horror that the walls seemed to cave in. The city and the cheerful citizens vanished, giving way to desolation and a multitude of ghosts, which formed a ring round him and leered at him.

Sud Sakorn was not afraid. Taking a firm grip of his magic stick, he swung it right and left. Immediately they were struck, the ghosts' heads rolled off their ghostly bodies. But the more he disposed of in this way, the more others came to leer at him, putting out their greedy tongues. Sud Sakorn, undaunted, continued to strike at them, while Nilmangkorn lashed with its tail and bit with its fangs. When evening fell they were still fighting the inexhaustible hosts. The ghosts even brought burning torches to illumine the battle. The magic stick kept them at bay, but they persevered in the hope that in his exhaustion the boy might drop it. The strain was now beginning to tell on Sud Sakorn and on his loyal steed. The boy began thinking of the hermit and how welcome his assistance would be. All at once, there was a deafening sound as of thunder and all the ghosts disappeared into thin air. Out of the clouds came the hermit, with a kindly smile on his countenance. He told Sud Sakorn about the lost kingdom and its ghostly inhabitants, and warned him to leave immediately. The hermit then vanished into the clouds, and Sud Sakorn made a hasty departure.

The boy rode his dragon-horse right through the night. When dawn broke, he found himself close to a beautiful green island. Deciding to make a stop, he directed Nilmangkorn to the shore. There he found various kinds of fruit to feed on while Nilmangkorn made a meal of fishes found in the shallow water. Afterwards both enjoyed a much needed rest.

Refreshed by this brief sojourn on the island, Sud Sakorn again mounted his steed and continued his journey across the ocean. It was some time before he reached the first inhabited island.

On this island, there lived a cunning rascal of uncertain ancestry who professed to be a holy man. Shipwrecked near the island, he lost the few possessions he could boast of and landed on the island literally naked. To cover up his shame, he told the islanders that he was a fakir of a certain sect that spurned all forms of clothing as sinful. He allowed his hair and his beard to grow so long that they partly hid his nakedness. Refusing to eat fish, the principal diet of the island, he subsisted solely on rice and vegetables. All these things so impressed the natives that they were completely taken in by him and believed that he really was a holy man. So they built him a hermitage where he lived in great comfort and ease.

It was to this hermitage that Sud Sakorn first came when he arrived at the island. He rode Nilmangkorn as far as the gate. Peering in, he saw the naked fakir lying stretched out asleep and snoring on his couch. The sight repulsed him, but curiosity overcame him and he called out. "Ho, there! Wake up, old man! Why do you not wear any clothes?"

The fakir woke up, startled. He looked all around to see where the noise came from. Eventually he espied the boy astride a strange beast outside his gate, and asked, "Where have you come from? What is your business, little hermit? What is that animal you are riding?"

"Wait," said Sud Sakorn authoritatively, "You must tell me first why you are so shamelessly naked. Have you no clothes? And do you not brush your teeth?"

The fakir immediately assumed a pose of virtuosity which was so blatantly a sham that any one with more experience than Sud Sakorn or the islanders could have seen through it at once. "I have renounced all desires," he exclaimed with false piety, "because I realise the folly of human vanity. What, after all, is our human body? Just a storehouse of disease and dirtiness. Therefore, what is the use of trying to conceal it? For this same reason, I have taken to a holy life, renounced the world, effaced my name and person. Just as I was born into the world, so am I at this instant. Now, pray, what is your business? Whither do you go?"

Sud Sakorn, in his innocence, believed all that the fakir had said and believed him truly to be a holy man. He dismounted and entered the hermitage, and begged the naked fakir to forgive him for speaking in a rude fashion. He then gave an account of himself and his strange journey.

The naked fakir closed his eyes and listened. As the story unfolded, he became more than ever convinced that this was no ordinary boy, that small though he was he possessed extraordinary magical powers. He decided to pry the secret of these powers from the boy.

In his sly manner, the fakir said, "That is all very well, and you may have succeeded in crossing the oceans. But before you lie far greater hazards, such as the sea of flowing lava. Your charms and incantations are powerless against this. I will teach you how to overcome this and other obstacles." Sud Sakorn expressed his willingness to learn.

"Then you must tell me all that you know already," said the fakir.

The boy innocently believed that the fakir would help him, and so told him all that he had been taught by the hermit and revealed the secret of the magic stick.

The fakir was delighted, and it was with considerable difficulty that he controlled his emotions sufficiently to say to Sud Sakorn, "We will begin our lessons at once. Now you must follow me to the place of meditation on yonder mountain."

The naked man rose from his couch and strode out of the hermitage with an agility that belied his years. Sud Sakorn followed, holding on tightly to the magic stick.

After much climbing, they eventually reached the highest point on the island. On a narrow ledge overhanging a precipice, with a sheer drop of several thousand feet into the valley below, the fakir told the boy to sit and adopt the attitude of meditation. Unsuspecting, Sud Sakorn obeyed. He placed the stick by his side and put the palms of his hands together as in prayer.

Immediately, the wicked fakir seized his opportunity. With a quick movement of his bare body, he pushed the boy over the edge and watched him fall until out of sight. Then with a shout of joy he gleefully picked up the magic stick and made his way down the mountain side.

Reaching the hermitage, he lost no time in proving his mastery over Sud Sakorn's steed, Nilmangkorn. At first the dragon-horse showed great aversion, but when the fakir waved the stick, it was cowed into submission and bowed its head to the inevitable. The fakir mounted its back, and, prodding it with the stick, made Nilmangkorn carry him across the sea to the kingdom of Karavek, where, he knew, his newly-acquired possessions and knowledge would yield him a comfortable living.

Karavek was ruled by a young prince named Phra Suriyotai, who had a consort called Chomchanthavadi and a two and a half year old daughter called Saovakontha. At the very hour when the treacherous fakir pushed Sud Sakorn over the precipice, Phra Suriyotai was fast asleep. While he was sleeping, he had a strange dream. He dreamt that an ugly and evil-smelling vulture, with a gleaming crimson body but few feathers, flew towards him with a crystal in its beak. The air was filled with the smell of death so that it made him feel faint. Then all of a sudden, the vulture disappeared and the sun rose in all its glory, bathing the whole city in light. He found the crystal on the ground and gave it to his daughter. At this point, he woke up.

Summoning the court astrologers, Phra Suriyotai asked them to interpret his dream. After making their calculations, they were able to inform him what the dream signified. The evil vulture represented a villainous man of strange aspect and appearance who would soon be coming to Karavek. The crystal indicated that this man would be followed by a child of exceptional strength and power, and the child would ultimately become the husband of the little Princess and rule over Karavek.

Soon enough, the naked fakir arrived as predicted. He rode Nilmangkorn through the streets of Karavek, to the great consternation of the populace, who thought that spirits of the underworld had come to town. Cries and lamentations rent the air. But the fakir rode unconcernedly on until he reached the main gate of the palace. There some knowledgeable persons who had heard of the naked fakir of the neighbouring island greeted him respectfully and asked his purpose in coming to Karavek. Flattered, the wily rascal told them that he had come to warn them of an impending epidemic of cholera which would sweep the city, striking down the improvident. "Please tell all your people," he cried. "If you are afraid to die, do not delay. Come out into the street and I shall sprinkle holy water over you, so that death will pass you untouched and you will live in happiness and health."

On hearing this, all forgot their fear and aversion. They pressed eagerly towards him, begging him to help them. Soon the streets were lined with crowds. Even the sick and the maimed made their appearance, and new-born babies were carried in the arms of their mothers. Young folk looked at the unclothed stranger with wonder, while the bolder spirits even hid their faces and laughed.

These facts were reported to Phra Suriyotai who, forgetting his dream, was as enthusiastic as any of his subjects. He told his courtiers that he would invite this holy man into the palace to perform his miracle there. But when the fakir entered the palace, all the palace women took fright and scattered in all directions. He rode up to the door of the throne hall, where he was politely received by courtiers. Beaming with pleasure, he dismounted. As he did so, Nilmangkorn, freed from the evil influence, leapt into the air, and with the speed of the wind, galloped away through the palace gate and headed for the sea, in the direction of the island where he had left his beloved master.

The fakir, horror-struck, fell into a swoon. Efforts to revive him failed. It was in this condition that he was presented to the Prince. Phra Suriyotai ordered him to be carried into an inner room and summoned doctors to attend him. There he languished in abject sorrow and despair for several days.

Meanwhile, Nilmangkorn returned to the island and wandered hither and thither in search of Sud Sakorn. Not finding him, the faithful steed went to the hermitage and from there followed the trail of his master. It only led to a mountain wall. So Nilmangkorn sat down and cried, and his wails echoed through the rocky valley.

Now, by the grace of the hermit's magical power, Phra Abhai Mani's son had not perished in his fall from the precipice after being pushed over by the wicked fakir. But he was grievously hurt and remained unconscious for a long while. In time, the cool trickle of a stream which gushed forth from the rocks and touched his body revived him, and he regained consciousness. Immediately he became aware of the piteous wailing of the faithful Nilmangkorn. Looking about him, he could however see nothing but solid and massive walls all around. To climb them was impossible, and there was no way out of the deep chasm. In despair, Sud Sakorn again called on his mentor.

Once more, the hermit came to the aid of his ward. There was a deafening sound. Sud Sakorn looked up and saw the old man descending astride a rainbow. Gathering the bruised body of the boy up in his arms, the hermit took him aloft and gently laid him on the mountain top. He then proceeded to teach the boy thus: "Put not your trust in any mortal, for their wiles are immeasurable. Even the most tortuous creepers round the hoariest tree are not as crooked as a man's heart. True love among mortals is only to be found in the love of a father or mother. The only support you can rely upon is yourself. So you must be careful and wise, my boy. There is no better armour than knowledge, for it is best to know how to keep oneself from harm. Now you must go and recover your magic stick." As soon as he had said this, the hermit vanished from sight.

Sud Sakorn rose and came down the mountain side to find his steed. Nilmangkorn showed great delight on seeing him. The boy led his dragon-horse back the way he came, picking fruit and feeding himself and Nilmangkorn as he went. When he reached the hermitage, he collected pomegranates that the naked fakir had planted. Having eaten his fill he bathed in the clear, cool stream.

Calling Nilmangkorn, he said to his steed, "You know where that wicked man has gone. Take me to him at once." He mounted the dragon-horse and away they sped to Karavek.

The citizens of Karavek were no longer frightened of Nilmangkorn, so they came out of their houses to take a good look at the rare creature. They thought that the boy who was riding it must be the son or grandson of the fakir. They called out to him, "Where have you been, little hermit? Have you come to join the old one?"

Sud Sakorn returned their friendly greetings. "I share my blessings with you all," he told them. "But tell me where I may find the naked fakir, please tell me where he resides." The citizens told him that their ruler had invited him into his palace.

It was not long before Sud Sakorn gained access to the palace, for every one who saw the boy fell in love with him. He dismounted and entered the chamber where the fakir had been placed. The wicked man was fast asleep, but the magic stick was leaning against the wall. Taking hold of it at once, Sud Sakorn waved it triumphantly over his head and shouted, "Hey, you base and heartless villain! You wormed my secrets out of me and sought to kill me and steal my stick. You shall die for it!"

The naked fakir woke up with a start and was horror-stricken to find the boy whom he had pushed over the precipice standing over him. He jumped up and, having no thought for anything but flight, ran out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him, followed by the royal doctors with their cups of medicine. The guards outside not knowing what was happening, joined in the hue-and-cry. There was considerable commotion in the palace.

The noise reached the ears of Phra Suriyotai, who immediately came out from his inner chamber to see what was afoot. On reaching the quarters assigned to the fakir, he saw the little boy in hermit's clothing. Sud Sakorn had not taken the trouble to join in the chase, but was explaining to the startled courtiers, "I have come only to take back my stick; you need not be afraid, for I harm no one."

Phra Suriyotai took an instant liking to the boy, and invited him into his inner chamber. There he asked questions of Sud Sakorn, who told him about his ancestry and his adventures.

When Phra Suriyotai heard how the fakir had deceived and tried to kill Sud Sakorn, his fury was aroused. He ordered the man to be arrested and brought into his presence. As the fakir refused to admit his guilt, he was whipped and sentenced to death. But Sud Sakorn interceded for him, saying that what had befallen himself was doubtless due to some fault he had committed against the man in a previous existence; if he were to exact punishment now, a chain of recurring acts of revenge would be projected into their future existences.

Phra Suriyotai agreed to Sud Sakorn's request on one condition: that Sud Sakorn should remain in Karavek as his adopted son. The boy, not averse to this proposal, replied: "I thank Your Highness for the magnanimous suggestion that I should look upon Your Highness as a father. When I have found my parent and other relatives, I shall return to Karavek and serve Your Highness for the rest of my life."

Phra Suriyotai was delighted with this condescending reply and made a further proposal: "I myself will accompany you on the journey to your father's kingdom. But first you must rest here awhile and refresh yourself. In the meantime, I will send word to Paleuk."

Sud Sakorn had no objection to this. He merely asked permission to call Nilmangkorn and tell the faithful steed what he intended. That done, and when Nilmangkorn had been given leave to play in the ocean, the boy followed his new-found sire into the inner palace, where he received an affectionate welcome from Chomchanthavadi and her daughter Saovakontha.

Days passed into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, and Sud Sakorn stayed on at Karavek, tasting the delights of a civilisation and culture he had never known. He completely forgot the object of his mission, which was to journey in search of a father he had never seen.

One day, however, he suddenly remembered that Phra Suriyotai was not his father, nor was Karavek his parental domain. He had an instant urge to go and search for Phra Abhai Mani. At once he went to his adopted parents and told them that he would set out from Karavek on the morrow. He also said to Saovakontha, whom he loved dearly, "I must leave you, little sister. The desire to meet my real father burns like a fire within me. When I have found him, I will bring him here to see you. You must take good care of yourself. I shall always think of you."

"In that case," remarked Saovakontha, "I will go with you. I cannot remain behind in the city without you, dear brother."

In spite of all his efforts to dissuade her from accompanying him, Saovakontha was adamant, and even her parents had to give in to her whims. But they arranged for their two young charges to go in ship which was properly fitted out and fully manned, and with a number of attendants to wait upon them.

Sud Sakorn did not forget his faithful steed. He called Nilmangkorn and told the dragon-horse to go with them. In the day time, Nilmangkorn could gallop about at will across the surface of the ocean. But at night, the dragon-horse must join the ship and sleep on board.

The ship set sail in the direction of Paleuk. The voyage through calm seas passed off uneventfully until they reached a large island, where they stopped to replenish their supply of fresh water. Now, unknown to them, this island was the abode of ferocious, man-eating butterflies of gigantic size. When these creatures scented human blood, they winged out in hordes of hundreds and circled over the ship in search of prey. The sailors were panic-stricken and ran below deck. Little Saovakontha, hearing the commotion, leaned out of the window of her cabin. In a flash, one of the monsters swooped down, caught the child in its talons and flew aloft again at great speed. Fortunately, Sud Sakorn saw what happened. Seizing his stick and calling Nilmangkorn, he set off in immediate pursuit. Almost at once, he was attacked by hundreds of other hungry butterflies. Undismayed, the boy struck at them with his stick and shattered their wings. The remainder were quickly put to flight. Sud Sakorn then proceeded to rescue Saovakontha and brought her back to the ship on his trusty steed. After that, he went out again with Nilmangkorn and made his way to the island, where he sought out and slew the king butterfly. He took out both the creature's eyes, which shone like gems, and brought them to the ship, for he had been told that they gave great strength to any one who possessed them.

Finally, after many weeks spent in crossing the ocean, the ship arrived in the territorial waters of Paleuk. There they found several patrol boats cruising off the shore. Drawing nearer, the Karavek sailors beat their gongs to attract attention and called out to ask whose boats they were. They received the reply: "We are the patrols of Paleuk. Where do you come from, and do you come as friends or enemies?" The Karavek sailors, delighted that they had reached their destination, cried out: "We are no enemies! This ship carries the Princess of Karavek and the renowned Sud Sakorn, son of the illustrious Phra Abhai Mani, who comes to meet his father. If you approach, you may pay your respects to His Highness!" The patrol boats came alongside and the officers boarded the ship. Sud Sakorn received them in a friendly manner and soon confirmed that they were indeed his father's subjects. But when he asked them to take him to Phra Abhai Mani, they hesitated and said that they would first have to await instructions from the palace. So they sent messengers to advise high officials at the court.

The news was conveyed to Suvarnamali, as Phra Abhai Mani was still distracted following Laman's curse and the strange spell which Laweng's portrait exercised over him. Suvarnamali had never heard of any other son of her husband, and was naturally suspicious. After consulting the ladies of the court, she decided to find out more about Sud Sakorn and await the arrival of Sri Suvarna and Sin Samudr before admitting him into the city, for it was generally agreed that the enemy were capable of using any subterfuge. So the messengers went back to the ship with the request that Sud Sakorn should not enter the city immediately but wait at the outpost. Sud Sakorn learned of his father's illness with dismay and anxiety and spent much time questioning the messengers. In the end, he decided to comply with the request and set up his camp on the outskirts of the city.

Meanwhile, word reached Suvarnamali that a vast concentration of forces had gathered at Lanka. The cunning Laweng had offered her hand to any one who could conquer the twice-victorious ruler of Paluek. Consequently, all the sovereigns of neighbouring states from powerful monarchs to insignificant princelings, had offered their services, and now a mighty allied army was ready to swoop on Phra Abhai Mani's kingdom. Suvarnamali hastened into her husband's chamber and found him kissing the bewitched portrait of Laweng. Sitting down beside him, she told him the news she had received. Phra Abhai Mani flew into a rage, crying: "You come here merely to vent your jealousy! All you can do is to talk and talk!" He picked up a pillow and flung it at her. Suvarnamali ran out of the room. Seeing that to discuss the matter with her husband was useless, she herself summoned the ministers and generals to prepare for war.

The soldiers of Paleuk were scarcely ready before the allied enemy fleet appeared off the coast. Such a vast congregation of fighting ships had never been seen before, nor had any force been known to be as large and formidable as the one they transported. The invaders seemed unassailable. Nevertheless, the brave patrol boats went out to intercept them, firing their diminutive guns. The big enemy vessels replied with cannons and in no time not a trace was left of the hapless defenders. Thinking they had disposed of the only resistance before reaching the shore, the fleet sailed in at full speed and ran into Sud Sakorn's ship, which opened up with all its guns and succeeded in sinking a few of the leading vessels. But even the gallant visitors from Karavek could not withstand the entire strength of the invading fleet and were forced to retire. The invaders therefore gained the desired beach heads and began to disembark their troops with little hindrance. Within a short time, they completely surrounded the city and began assaulting the walls.

Suvarnamali, who had taken over supreme command of the defence, decided that the only hope lay in staging a diversion by making a brief sortie. Disguising herself as a man once more, she collected a band of resolute women and led them out through one of the city gates. She intended to take them out only a short distance, sufficient to draw the attention of the enemy, and then beat a rapid retreat. But the enemy were too quick for the women. Before the latter could retrace their steps, they rushed the gate and succeeded in cutting off the retreat. Suvarnamali and her amazons tried to fight their way back with bows and arrows. In doing so, many of them, including Suvarnamali herself, were wounded.

At this critical moment, the enemy ranks faltered and broke, as Sud Sakorn came riding on Nilmangkorn, scattering warriors left and right. Realising instinctively that the disguised woman was his father's consort, he rushed to her rescue and escorted her back to the safety of the walls. He then returned to the fray at the head of the troops from Karavek and, swinging his stick and urging on his formidable steed, made a frontal attack. The enemy, surprised by this strange combination, turned and fled.

Sud Sakorn entered the city of Paleuk in triumph. At last, after many adventures, the infant prodigy had found his father.

 --->Part Eight : Princess of the Western Isle

A FTER their marriage, Phra Abhai Mani and Suvarnamali lived happily together. Naturally, the former never ceased to have a roving eye for the attractive ladies of the court, but his amorous advances towards them were unfailingly curbed by the jealousy of his consort. Indeed, such good care did she take of him that she soon found herself with child. In due course, she was delivered of two baby daughters-twins.

In the meanwhile, Sri Suvarna had taken his daughter Arun Rasmi and his nephew Sin Samudr to see their long-neglected grandparents in the distant city of Ratana. The aged ruler and his queen were so overjoyed to meet their younger son again, and to have two strapping grandchildren with them, that they would not let them return but made them stay to delight their waning days. Instead, Sanon, who had accompanied the party, was sent to report to Phra Abhai Mani and convey a message from his parents.

While all was peaceful and happy at both Ratana and Paleuk, great preparations were afoot at Lanka. Usren, still smarting from the wounds of defeat, was determined to settle accounts with Phra Abhai Mani once and for all. He raised a great army and prepared a vast fleet of ships for the invasion of Paleuk. When everything was ready, he embarked and set sail. His father, although well-advanced in years, decided to join his son on the expedition. He left his daughter Laweng, now a beautiful young lady of sixteen, to the tender care of nurses and councillors.

Now, one of the men who had accompanied Phra Abhai Mani from the magic island happened to be in Lanka at the time. He was therefore able to send an urgent report to his master in advance of Usren's fleet. Phra Abhai Mani was not a little disturbed, for Paleuk was not prepared against aggression, as its people were peace-loving and not warlike. So he took counsel of Valee, who had become his trusted adviser in all manner of things. She advised him that, as the few troops available were not likely to be able to withstand a frontal attack, they should resort to strategy and cunning. When the invasion began, Phra Abhai Mani's men were to make as if they were forced to retreat. Thus they would lure the enemy into the unknown recesses of the interior. When that was accomplished, another force would attack the enemy from the rear.

Accordingly, when Usren's fleet appeared in the Bay of Paleuk, all necessary plans had been laid. On board his ship, Usren marvelled that the arrival of such an imposing armada should cause so little stir among the inhabitants. So he fired a cannon as a warning. This at least did produce some effect. A few small boats riding at anchor along the coast tried to run the gauntlet of his ships and sail up the river. One of them was caught and the men were sent to him for questioning.

From them, he learned the extraordinary news that Phra Abhai Mani had wind of his coming, and so had evacuated the whole population inland. Phra Abhai Mani himself was fleeing in a boat up the river. As if to confirm their statement, flames and smoke rose from among the buildings in the city, and a few ships could be seen making their way upstream in haste.

After a hurried consultation, Usren and his father decided to divide their force. Usren was to take some ships up the river in pursuit of Phra Abhai Mani. His father and the main body of the army would encamp outside the walls of the abandoned city. In conformity with this decision, Usren at once gave chase to Phra Abhai Mani's ships which were slipping away upstream. His father ordered the rest of his ships to beach so that the soldiers might disembark.

By nightfall, the major part of the Lanka fleet had been beached in an orderly row. The soldiers had set up camp, and, meeting with no opposition, had relaxed their vigilance and given themselves over to feasting and merry-making.

This was a grievous error on their part. The city of Paleuk was far from being empty. Behind its walls, men and women were plotting their destruction. While Usren's men were off their guard, a party of townsfolk led by Suvarnamali herself, once more disguised as a man, crept through the wall and silently stole to the beach. There, under cover of darkness, they set fire to the row of ships. As the timber and sails were caught by the flames, there was one big blaze all along the line. Taking this as their signal, the main body of those who had concealed themselves in the city made a sortie, and, uttering terrible cries, threw themselves upon the invaders.

Usren's men did not have a chance. Filled with consternation at the sight of their burning ships, and thrown into confusion by the unexpected sortie, their enforced retreat became an utter rout. As many as could, they made their way to the few ships that were still afloat. Usren's aged father, unable to run away quickly enough by himself, was placed on the shoulders of a burly and dusky warrior. Valee, who was leading the sortie, caught sight of them and let fly three of her arrows, which found their mark but failed to inflict mortal injuries. The old man, wounded but still conscious, and his faithful mount, succeeded in reaching one of the ships, which straightway put out to sea.

Meanwhile, Usren's squadron had sailed far from the scene. When Phra Abhai Mani thought that the chase had lasted long enough, he turned and attacked the enemy from both front and rear. Usren, fearing that his retreat might be cut off, decided to retire and fall back on the main strength of his invasion fleet. So it came about in this strange battle that the pursuer became the pursued.

Coming downstream at full speed, Usren's ships reached the mouth of the river and confidently sailed in close to the shore where the main body of his army had been encamped. The reception they received was not quite what they expected. Cannons roared, cannon balls hurtled through the air and landed on the ships. The stern of Usren's own vessel was entirely shot away, so that the ship began to sink. All on board with the exception of Usren started jumping overboard to save themselves.

Phra Abhai Mani's ship came alongside. A party boarded the sinking vessel and brought up the unconscious form of Usren. Seeing his erstwhile rescuer and rival in such a plight, Phra Abhai Mani's eyes filled with tears and he went to embrace the prostrate prince.

The battle was ended. The remnants of the Lanka fleet had fled. So Phra Abhai Mani ordered a cannon to be fired as a signal for the cessation of operations. The warriors and citizens of Paleuk returned joyfully to their city.

Usren was carried to a royal chamber in the palace and placed on a couch. Doctors were summoned to tend his wounds sustained in combat. When he regained consciousness, his eyes first alighted on Phra Abhai Mani. This filled him with shame and grief, and he no longer had any desire to live. He felt about him for his sword with which to kill himself, but it had been removed while he was being carried into the palace. Its loss plunged him into despair.

Phra Abhai Mani understood his intention and state of mind, and thus addressed him with soothing words:

"Be not sad, 0 my brother, for we are as relatives to one another. From the very beginning, we were good friends and loved each other. Then we quarrelled over a woman and fought. It is customary in battle to fight hard in order to gain the victory, as I have done over you. But I have brought you here only to have a talk with you, so that you may abate your anger and we may resume friendly and loving intercourse to the end of our days. Your men and your ships, such as have survived the hostilities, shall be returned to you. Let our two peoples live in peace and happiness from henceforth. What say you, my brother?"

Usren was not susceptible to these overtures of good will. He assumed a defiant attitude and said: "I know well that you are full of tricks. But remember that I came here to destroy you. I did not think that I should be defeated. But since this has come to pass, do not expect me to make friends with my enemy. I am a man and a warrior, I am not

afraid to die and therefore will bow to no one. Kill or quarter me, if you wish. I will be reborn to plague you."

Phra Abhai Mani generously overlooked this passionate outburst and continued to plead with him. "I have too much compassion for you and cannot let you die. Now, I beg of you, tell me what I can do to appease your wrath. If it is humanly possible I will do it."

Usren replied: "If I had taken the city, I would have had you and Suvarnamali bound together, flayed alive and then rubbed with salt. After that I would have cut off your heads and interchanged them. Only that would have satisfied me."

On hearing this, Phra Abhai Mani turned his head away in horror. This was not a wish that could be granted. Then he said gently to Usren:

"You are still filled with thoughts of vengeance. But I will let you go freely without hurt or hindrance. You once did me a service and now I repay it with this. If later you should want to make war again, it shall be as you wish. But while you are recovering from your wounds, consider yourself as my guest; live, bathe and eat as you are accustomed to do."

Valee could not endorse her master's policy of appeasement. According to accepted rules and practices, victorious monarchs did not set free those enemies who had sought their destruction. "Our King is overly generous," she thought to herself, "he thinks that he will win gratitude. He underestimates the tiger's cub. But what can be done? He will not listen to me. The queen is of the same mind, because her father was friend of Usren's father. There is only I myself who can complete the task. The wise say that if you beat a snake and only break its back, it will return to do you harm; a crocodile that escapes into the water finds new strength; a caged tiger that regains the jungle is deadly. In the same way, if you spare the life of a captured enemy, he will only cause you greater trouble again in the future."

So Valee thought of ways and means of bringing Usren to book. Finally, an idea occurred to her which she considered would suit her

purpose. She dressed up again in man's clothing and put in her belt a handsome dagger with a bejewelled hilt. Thus attired, she went to the royal apartments and sought audience of Phra Abhai Mani. There, in the presence of Usren, she told him how she herself had shot ~hree arrows into the body of the aged ruler of Lanka. Although the latter succeeded in escaping, it was her firm conviction that the old man could not survive three nights at the most. It would therefore be opportune to follow the fleeing enemy to their city.

But Phra Abhai Mani would not entertain the suggestion. "I do not wish it," he said, "I am sorry for brother Usren. What is the use of going on with the fighting?"

Usren heard what Valee had said and was filled with the most morbid and gloomy thoughts. It was not enough that he had been ignominiously defeated in battle; his father was mortally wounded and dying, and now this misshapened wench was allowed to come and gloat over the fact. It was more than he could endure. His temper rose, but as he was already weak with wounds, his strength waned and eventually failed him. Convulsions seized his sorely-tried body and life slowly ebbed away.

Valee had her wish. Usren was dead and could never harm Paleuk again. But she had reckoned without the consequences. Usren dead caused her greater anguish than Usren living. His ghost roamed the palace seeking revenge. Shrill cries would pierce the stillness of the night, calling for vengeance on the mocking woman. One evening, the ghost caught up with her and gave her the fright of her life. It chased her through the chambers of the palace, inflicting on her blow after blow. Valee succeeded in escaping to her room, but she never recovered from the shock. Terror-stricken, she became prey to terrible fits and fevers. In spite of the care and attention lavished on her by Phra Abhai Mani and Suvarnamali in person, she failed to rally and, having taken leave of her master and mistress, with the ghost of Usren mocking her from afar, ended her mortal life.

Phra Abhai Mani and Suvarnamali were prostrate with grief. They had lost a faithful counsellor and loyal friend whose real worth they had not fully recognised while she lived. Phra Abhai Mani had not always taken her advice while Suvarnamali had actually been jealous of her. So they begged her pardon and prayed that she might be born again, this time more beautiful than she had been in her existence which had just ended. They ordered elaborate funeral ceremonies for her, bestowing upon her the rank of a queen's sister.

As for the body of Usren, Phra Abhai Mani commanded that it be placed in a golden urn suited to his princely rank. The urn was then taken on board a ship, escorted by Usren's own followers who had been taken prisoner with him. The ship was then permitted to set sail for Lanka.

Usren's father reached Lanka after a long and painful voyage. Efforts to cure his wounds were of no avail, and he sank into deep despondency. The arrival of the ship which carried the golden urn containing Usren's body plunged him even further into immeasurable grief. "This is the end of my hopes!" he cried. "I have no other male issue. Who shall rule this country after me? I have but one child left, but she cannot rule, and will only live to drink tears. God has truly deserted me!" Finally, overcome with sorrow and weakened through wounds, the old man passed away.

As soon as the news of the king's death spread through the palace, a wail of despair arose on all sides. The courtiers and the warriors joined in the general lamentation, "What shall we do now that both the sovereign and the prince have gone?" they cried. "It is as if both the sun and moon disappeared from the sky, as if the sky itself and earth and sea had melted away, leaving nothing but chaos." As the news spread, panic seized the populace. "0, light that lightened our darkness, now that you are extinguished, there will be confusion and despair on all sides!" All night long, the city echoed with outcries of utter grief that resembled sounds made by the waves of an angry sea.

The following morning, there was a meeting of nobles and elders to decide what was to be done. It was unanimously agreed to raise the princess Laweng to the throne of her ancestors, in default of a male heir.

For her part, Laweng fell into a swoon on hearing that both her father and her brother were dead. However, under the expert care of her nurses, who administered the right restoratives, she soon recovered sufficiently to go and pay her last respects to the royal remains. She bowed at the feet of her father, and sobbed. "0 my dearest parent, you have left your daughter all alone and gone to heaven with her brother. To whom shall she look now for guidance? It is a most difficult situation for a woman. The more I think of it, the more readily flow my tears and the colder grows my heart. When mother died, I still had you. But now you are gone, it is as if a light had gone out of my life. I have no one left to lean on, so I pray that you take me with you. I will ask to be born again with you. I am not afraid to die. I will kill myself to follow you."

So saying, she pulled a trident from the sleeve of her dress and lifted it in the air. All at once, her nurses uttered a piercing shriek and wrested it away from her. Laweng made strenuous efforts to retrieve it, but was prevented from doing so by the raised voices of the courtiers, who implored her to live and rule their leaderless land, and to avenge the deaths of her father and brother.

Laweng, her young and beautiful face stained with marks of sorrow, replied to the assembled courtiers. ''Ruling a country is a man's work. I am only a woman, and others might not accept me as their leader. So let all of you choose some man to be your leader."

The courtiers would not however accept her proposal. "There is no other who can rule this country but you," they told her. "It is true that you are a woman, but you are the sole remaining descendant of the kings of Lanka. If any city of the kingdom dares to oppose you, we shall all volunteer in your service to destroy it. Besides, you will be safe, because your royal father has left with you the magic signet of Rahu, which will protect you from all dangers. You must live and rule in order to avenge the deaths of your father and brother."

Laweng made up her mind to meet her destiny. She therefore answered them thus: "I thank you all for what you have said and promised, and wish that you will help me in waging war against our enemy, so that we may wipe away our shame. I shall keep the magic signet of Rahu by iny side. As I lack experience in the affairs of state. I hope that you who are skilled will guide me. But, first of all, let us perform funeral obsequies for the dead."

The funeral ceremonies for the dead ruler and his son Usren accordingly took place in the manner prescribed by the customs of the country.

When that had been done, Laweng was invited to take her place on the throne in the council chamber, where all bowed before her and greeted her as the new ruler of Lanka.

Seated on the royal throne of Lanka, holding the diamond- studded signet of Rahu in one hand and the other hand grasping the hilt of her sword with its scabbard of flaming design, Laweng thus addressed her noblemen: "We thank you all and hope that you will continue to help us rule the country. We are only sixteen years of age and a girl besides, therefore we lack the qualities of a warrior. But so incensed are we at the infamous insults heaped upon us by Paleuk that we must go to war even if it means our death. Advise us what to do in order that we may conquer the people of Paleuk."

The nobles of Lanka, however, were unable to offer any constructive advice. They had only learned the rudiments of warfare, since superior problems of military strategy had always been left to the King. So they told her, "That is for Your Highness to decide and command. Whether an army wins or loses a battle depends entirely upon the commander in whom the supreme power is vested. But Your Highness might consult the Patriarch, who is the fount of wisdom and who knows all things, even the arts of war. If Your Highness is in doubt, the Patriarch will always give counsel."

Laweng promptly sent for the Holy Father. She received him with great ceremony, setting before him wine, tea and tobacco. Having done this, she told him what had recently come to pass. "I implore you to help me," she begged. "Please tell me what to do."

The Patriarch laughed at her fears. "Such is the mysterious hand of fate!" he exclaimed. "Paleuk knows how to defend itself against warriors. But this land is now ruled by a woman, and Paleuk will not know how to deal with a woman. A woman will conquer where men have perished. You must use your woman's wiles; that is more effective than any signet of Rahu. If you follow my advice, no one will dare lift a finger against you!"

Laweng was certain of the priest's wisdom, but could not grasp his meaning; and so she answered: "I am still young and inexperienced. Please tell me how I can use my woman's wiles."

The Patriarch laughed again, and mystified her further by speaking in riddles. "Wiles mean work, work means wiles and therefore wiles and work go together. You have nothing to fear so long as you remember this."

He then rose and returned to his cell, ignoring Laweng's request for an explanation.

Laweng tried hard to think over what the priest had said, but could make nothing out of it, as she had never exercised any wiles. Without saying another word, she retired to her bedchamber.

From that day onwards, Laweng was never allowed to forget that she had a score to settle with Paleuk. At council meetings, her nobles kept on reminding her how the hated enemy had slain her father and brother. Her ears tingled as though they were constantly pricked with stinging nettles. Whenever she retired to bed, it was always with a heavy heart full of sighs. She tossed on her couch as she thought of the Patriarch's words. Unable to sleep, she even forbade officers of the watch to strike the gongs which denoted the passing of the hours.

Her nurses were perturbed at her restless condition. They counselled her to call on the Patriarch, who alone could enlighten her. So Laweng decided to go and visit the holy man.

Passing through a garden full of fragrant flowers, Laweng and her nurses and attendants climbed the steps leading to the great door of the church. Immediately, a gong sounded loudly three times, and the Patriarch came down to receive them. He invited the Princess to step inside and take a seat in his vestry. When she had done so, he asked her, "What brings you here, my child?"

Laweng answered, "Holy Father, I come to seek your aid, for which I would gladly tender you my life. Please tell me the meaning of your words, when you said that I should use my woman's wiles and that it would be more potent than even the signet of Rahu. Please explain the significance of this to me, so that I may understand and take steps accordingly to avenge the death of my dear father."

The priest gave a discreet cough, lowered his voice and spoke to her in a confidential tone. "My child, you must know that the signet of Rahu which graces this city has long been the object of envy of other lands. There is no prince living who would not dare all to become the possessor of it. Do you but proclaim that whoever undertakes to assist Lanka to defeat her enemies shall become her ruler, you will not lack champions to take up your cause. As for your woman's wiles, be you as wise as Mekhala. Order an artist to paint portraits of yourself, send them into all the neighbouring lands, and you will not lack suitors who will offer to fight unto death for love of you. Thus you will gain your ends without having to sacrifice your own people."

Having said this, he went to a cupboard and took out a number of maps. These he handed to Laweng and showed her the different countries which were near neighbours of Lanka and which might be prevailed upon to come to her aid in return for the chance of such a fair prize as Laweng. He also gave her the recipe for a love potion that could not fail to capture the hearts of men, provided the user studied it carefully and carried out the instructions. He told her that this potion was so efficacious that, should the most strong-minded of men but look upon her face or merely see her picture, he would almost die of love for her. At first, Laweng resented such a suggestion, but the cunning priest explained that no harm could befall her if she did not herself fall in love with any of her victims.

Armed with this knowledge and the maps. Laweng returned to her palace delighted and not a little excited. Once back in her own chamber, she fell immediately to studying the maps and the recipe. The ingredients of the potion were curious: they consisted of a compound of perfumes and a human eye taken from a covetous woman. The potion was duly prepared according to instructions. Laweng then gave orders for the hundred most beautiful maidens of the city to be brought to her and to be trained in the art of womanly wiles. Besides, she commanded that no fewer than three thousand women be taught the practice of archery, and a greater number of men be drilled in the science of war. When all this had been done to her satisfaction, she sent out ambassadors, each of whom was entrusted with a portrait of herself, to all points of the compass where powerful kingdoms were to be found.

In due course, one of them reached the land of the Tamils, a virile race that derived strength from eating meat instead of rice. The King of this country was called Laman. At the time when Laweng's ambassador arrived, Laman was mourning the loss of his dearly beloved wife who had predeceased him. As he kept on repeating, "I cannot find a new wife who is able to satisfy me half as much. Even though there are thousands of other women, none of them can match my late consort." But that was before Laweng came into his ken.

The night before the ambassador's arrival, Laman dreamt a strange dream. In this dream, a giant serpent fell from the sky and coiled itself round his palace, breathing flames and smoke until he himself was consumed by fire and burnt to ashes. When he awoke, he knew at once that the serpent signified a woman, and began wondering who it was that desired to be his queen. He consulted his astrologers, who at once confirmed his suspicion and declared that he would soon have a new consort.

So when Laweng's ambassador was announced, Laman readily assented to grant immediate audience. The ambassador handed him the letter and the portrait of his royal mistress. As soon as his eyes fell upon the picture, Laman was completely overcome with wonder and admiration. He gazed so long at it that he fell into a swoon. When he recovered, he made enquiries of the ambassador, whose replies filled him with the highest hopes.

"It is my good fortune," he exclaimed, smiling. "To think that this beautiful young virgin will be mine, and Lanka too!" He read the letter over and over again. He was so pleased that he all but leapt into the air for sheer joy. He laughed loud and long, and then turned to the ambassador. "Why does your Princess look for a husband in our land?" he asked. "As she must surely know, they consider us to be cruel barbarians. Pray tell me why she does not fear to seek an alliance with us?"

The wily ambassador, as well-primed as a gun, replied: "Your Highness, even the fiercest leopard does not harm its own. With you by her side, my royal mistress will no longer fear but be feared."

Laman took the portrait and kept it close to his breast. All day long and at night, he stared at it with longing, and refused to speak to any one. The only command he gave was to the effect that a whole fleet of ships be hastily prepared for a voyage to Lanka. For his desire was so swift that, as he kissed the painted lips of Laweng, he wished that he could fly through the air to her side.

When Laweng learned that Laman was really coming, she could not help feeling a sudden wave of fear. But she calmed herself with the thought that he could really do no harm to her. She ordered preparations to be made for the reception of the Tamil chief.

On the appointed day, when Laman was to make his entry into Lanka as her guest, Laweng took special care over her toilet. She bathed and perfumed herself lavishly, then put on a rich and brilliant costume studded with precious stones. Indeed, she looked like some female divinity descended from heaven, as she took her place on the ancestral throne in the great hall.

Outside, the sound of drums and gongs grew louder. The Tamils approached the palace along a beflagged street lined with inquisitive inhabitants of Lanka, and treading on white cloth that was laid on the ground like a carpet. Surrounded by a formidable-looking company, Laman entered the hall of the palace.

Laman was dumbfounded at the amazing beauty of Laweng. He could only stand still and smile. Meanwhile, his followers lost no time in getting acquainted with the ladies of the court. Here, the training the latter had received at the hands of their mistress proved invaluable. With smiles and coy looks, they completely captivated the hearts of Laman's men.

Laweng suppressed a shudder as she looked down at the muscular but ungainly person of her visitor. Yet she deemed it expedient to be polite. So she addressed the Tamil prince.

"Brother, receive my thanks for hurrying hither. My desire has now been fulfilled. I am able to look upon you as my champion."

Laman was still lost in wonder and admiration. But he pulled himself together and answered: "Sister, as soon as I heard of your plight, I hastened here to rid you of your enemies. I will set you up as an empress. Your foes shall bow down at your feet. If they do not, they shall feel the edge of my sword. Now, tell me where Paleuk is, and I will go to cut off the head of Phra Abhai Mani and bring it to you as a gift."

Laweng bestowed on him her sweetest smile. "You have come from afar, so you must be tired," she said, "Give your weary men some rest." Then she told him the whole history of the war with Paleuk, and how Phra Abhai Mani had inflicted defeat and death on her own father and brother as well as her countrymen. "If you are really as valiant as you appear to be," she continued, "you must help me to vanquish him. If you are successful, the throne of Lanka and the signet of Rahu are yours."

Having said this, Laweng called her attendants, who brought forth tables laden with rich food and set them before Laman. At the same time, the choicest maidens poured him cups of wine, while others played on musical instruments and sang songs.

Laman watched all with wonder and admiration as if he were a provincial simpleton come to town. He partook of the food and the wine with much relish. When the wine went to his head, he conceived a great passion for Laweng. He looked at her with sensual longing and promised himself that when she was his, he would embrace her and put her on his knee. Then he began to boast, and swore that he would make mincemeat of the citizens of Paleuk. "I am afraid of no one," he cried. "I will win a great victory and look after Lanka." His men, who by now were somewhat drunk like their master, shouted noisy approval and started to sing uncouth songs. Some seized hold of the girl attendants and kissed them. The sounds of merriment echoed and re-echoed throughout the palace and the city.

When it was evening, the party broke up and Laman's followers retired to their camp outside the palace. There they fell into a drunken torpor and slept soundly until early morning when they were summoned to roll call.

As for Laman himself, he spent the night in a pavilion which had been specially prepared for him. For a long time he could not sleep because his desire had been aroused. When he did fall asleep, it was to dream of Laweng. He dreamt that he already possessed her; he embraced his pillow and kissed it lovingly

The next morning, Laman summoned his officers to a council of war and told them to prepare for an expedition against Paleuk. "If we do not defeat Phra Abhai Mani, we will not return," he warned them. The officers received their orders and went off to inspect their troops and ships.

Laman wished to show the women of Lanka his manly qualities. So he bathed and perfumed himself, and put on fine raiment. Over all, he wore a quaintly-fashioned armour studded with diamonds. On his head was a cap of soft gold with a crest in the shape of swan's plumes. Then, with a bow in his hand, he left his pavilion, called some of his officers, and marched into the palace.

Laweng was giving audience to her court. As soon as she saw Laman, she invited him to take a seat by her side, and said in her gentle manner, "I am sorry for your sake, 0 my brother. You had everything you desired in your own land. Now that you come here, you enjoy nothing but hardships. But do not be grieved that I have not yet been of greater service to you." So saying, she handed him a garland of choicest flowers.

Laman was soothed by her sweet words. He took the garland and thanked her for it. Then he said in a boastful vein, "I will be your champion to the end, you need not doubt that, my sister. This evening I shall set sail with my army to wrest victory from the men of Paleuk. I do not fear dangers and hardships. I lay my life at your feet." When Laweng smiled in answer, he felt happy beyond words.

Laweng pretended to be sad at his impending departure. She sighed and then spoke haltingly. "I have been thinking it over and I fear that your troops alone will not be sufficient for your purpose. I will raise an army too to help you fight the enemy."

Laman, however, would not hear of it. "There is no need. I myself will undertake to do all. If there is any one who defies you, I will eliminate him utterly."

Laweng then ordered a ship to be fitted out to act as a pilot to Laman's fleet and also to bring back news to Lanka.

The time came for Laman to leave. Laweng invoked the heavenly powers to bestow blessings upon him, and added, "When the war is won, please return quickly and I shall be happy to see you again."

Laman was overcome with joy to hear her speak these words. He had no wish to leave her now, but must perforce carry out what he had promised. Sorrowfully he boarded his ship. All at once, there was a noise of drums, gongs and bells, and at the same time the sailors shouted a full-throated farewell. The wind was favourable, the sails unfurled and Laman's fleet was on its way to Paleuk.

As on a previous occasion, word had already been sent to Phra Abhai Mani well in advance of the sailing of the invasion fleet. Phra Abhai Mani therefore had time to call together his generals and officers to work out schemes of defence. They decided to adopt the old tactics that had previously stood them in good stead. The inhabitants of the city were again advised to withdraw into the interior of the country, taking their belongings and their cattle with them. Meanwhile, able-bodied men were employed in building huge iron cages, for Phra Abhai Mani wanted to capture alive the tall, bearded Tamils. Each soldier was given a length of chain with which to capture one of these giants, who were comparable to them in size as elephants are to mice.

Early one morning, the fleet of Laman sailed confidently into the Bay of Paleuk. From the bridge of his ship, Laman saw citizens of Paleuk scatter in confusion, each trying to get his cattle away inland as quickly as possible. Laman rashly concluded that he had taken them by surprise and that they would offer no opposition. So he ordered a landing to be made by a company of bowmen, who immediately advanced towards the city preceded by green and yellow banners. As they approached the city walls, however, they found the battlements strongly defended by men dressed in scarlet.

Laman decided against immediate attack, but instead ordered a herald to approach the principal fort and deliver a message, as follows:

"You men of Paleuk! My Lord Laman the Tamil, bold and ruthless, has come with his army to avenge the defeat of Lanka. If Phra Abhai Mani sets any value on the lives of his family and his countrymen, let him come forward and stand trial before my Lord Laman, who will spare all living in this city. If he is obdurate and resists, my Lord Laman will raze this city to the ground with fire and his sword will spare no one, not even the babies in their cradles. Tell your Lord that thus says Laman the Bold!"

This message was accordingly conveyed to Phra Abhai Manl.

Phra Abhai Mani was not in the least perturbed. He merely commanded his officers to wait until nightfall, when he would give the signal for action. As soon as they saw the victory flag being hoisted, all the men of Paleuk were to make a sortie from the city gates and proceed to tie up each of the enemy with their chains. Moreover, he impressed upon them the importance of filling their ears with wax. That done, Phra Abhai Mani dismissed his officers and made a tour of inspection round the battlements and ramparts, and observed the positions of the restless enemy outside the walls.

When night fell, Phra Abhai Mani took his place in the commander's pavilion on the battlements. He picked up his magic flute, performed the customary salutation to his teacher and then began to play a soul- stirring melody, which could not fail to entrance all hearers. His own men did not hear it, because they all had wax on their ears, so the music had no effect on them whatever. It had a devastating effect, however, on Laman and his followers. The breeze wafted the melodious sounds to where they were encamped. As soon as they heard the voice of the flute, they became enraptured and lay down to listen to it. It was not long before they were all fast asleep.

When Phra Abhai Mani perceived this he ordered the victory flag to be hoisted. The men of Paleuk thereupon gave a shout and sallied forth through the opening city gates. In a trice, they fell upon the unconscious Tamils and quickly fastened chains on their bodies. The prostrate forms were then dragged into the cages which had been specially prepared for them within the city.

As for Laman, he too was tied up with chains and then deferentially carried and ceremoniously deposited in a specially guarded cage.

After the operation had been successfully carried out, Phra Abhai Mani called together his officers and warned them to be on their guard, for the captured Tamils would behave like wild elephants in a kraal. It would be at least two days before they accustomed themselves to captivity. Having said this, the ruler of Paleuk re-entered his palace.

When the followers of Laman woke up from their deep slumber and found themselves tied hand and foot, they were enraged and uttered terrible oaths. A few even succeeded in breaking their chains and had to be bound again with great difficulty. Recalcitrant cases were treated with a heavy blow of the truncheon.

Laman was more distressed than any of his men to find himself in such a sorry plight. He said to himself, "It is my evil fate to fall asleep and thus be taken by my enemy. How can I fight and conquer him now? What a waste of effort in bringing my army all this distance in order to take revenge on behalf of a dear friend! What will become of Laweng now? Will she not wait in vain for my victorious return? It is not my destiny to make you mine, 0 Laweng! But even if I die, I shall still lay claim to you. If any other man attempts to possess you, my ghost will surely break his neck." In his rage, he defiantly called on his guards to kill him.

That night, Laman pined more than ever for Laweng. Fortunately, he had brought with him the portrait of her, which he kept hidden next to his heart. He now brought it out and caressed it. Tears rolled down his face as he thought of the romance he would never have. Overcome with sorrow, he began to treat the portrait as if it were yeally Laweng herself. He kissed it and embraced it and fondled it, until his cage echoed with wonder and astonishment.

Soon enough, curiosity overcame the guards. They approached the cage to find out what kind of a picture it was that Laman treated in such an affectionate manner. They were pleasantly surprised to see the portrait of what seemed to them the most beautiful woman in the world. When Laman saw what they were doing, he quickly put the portrait back into his jacket. It was now quickly chilly with a cool wind blowing and dew falling on his face. Feeling more miserable than ever before in his adventurous life, Laman tried to compose himself for sleep. But sleep eluded him until the early hours of the morning, when he dozed off out of sheer exhaustion. It was then that the guards seized their opportunity and took the portrait away from him. They bore it in triumph to Phra Abhai Mani.

Phra Abhai Mani had already risen and was giving his first audience of the day. The first thing he did was to ask how Laman had fared during the night. The guards told him all that had come to pass and handed over the portrait. Phra Abhai Mani took one look at it and was deeply moved. A subtle emotion stirred within him and he had to avert his gaze. "So this is the prize for which the foolish Tamil ventured his life!" he exclaimed. "Bring the captive Laman hither!" While the guards went to fetch their prisoner, Phra Abhai Mani once more admired the peerless beauty of Laweng and ruminated whether he himself would not take up arms to fight for her.

Laman was brought before him. The Tamil prince proved to be fearless and could not be prevailed upon to answer any of Phra Abhai Mani's questions. He was therefore taken back to his cage. Phra Abhai Mani then told his assembled officers what he had decided to do with him. He would not allow him to return to his own country. He therefore proposed to set him and his chief followers loose upon some distant island to which no ship ever sailed.

The commands of Phra Abhai Mani were fulfilled. Laman and a few of his officers were taken on board a ship, which sailed to a small, uninhabited isle in the middle of the ocean, where sustenance and springs of fresh water were to be found. There they were left to fend for themselves.

Laman did not long enjoy his new dominion, however. Discovering the loss of the cherished portrait, he fell into a deep and bitter grief which was inconsolable. Not long after his arrival on the island, he succumbed to that grief, and his ghostly spirit fled from his lifeless body and returned to Paleuk to take up abode in that very portrait of Laweng which had been his dearest possession.