VIKRAM AND THE VAMPIRE CONCLUSION.

VIKRAM AND THE VAMPIRE.


CONCLUSION.




At Raja Vikram's silence the Baital was greatly surprised, and he
praised the royal courage and resolution to the skies. Still he did
not give up the contest at once.
"Allow me, great king," pursued the Demon, in a dry tone of voice,
"to wish you joy. After so many failures you have at length
succeeded in repressing your loquacity. I will not stop to enquire
whether it was humility and self-restraint which prevented your
answering my last question, or whether Rajait was mere ignorance
and inability. Of course I suspect the latter, but to say the truth
your condescension in at last taking a Vampire's advice, flatters me
so much, that I will not look too narrowly into cause or motive."
Raja Vikram winced, but maintained a stubborn silence, squeezing
his lips lest they should open involuntarily.
"Now, however, your majesty has mortified, we will suppose, a
somewhat exacting vanity, I also will in my turn forego the
pleasure which I had anticipated in seeing you a corpse and in
entering your royal body for a short time, just to know how queer
it must feel to be a king. And what is more, I will now perform my
original promise, and you shall derive from me a benefit which
none but myself can bestow. First, however, allow me to ask you,
will you let me have a little more air?"
Dharma Dhwaj pulled his father's sleeve, but this time Raja
Vikram required no reminder: wild horses or the executioner's saw,
beginning at the shoulder, would not have drawn a word from him.
Observing his obstinate silence, the Baital, with an ominous smile,
continued:
"Now give ear, O warrior king, to what I am about to tell thee, and
bear in mind the giant's saying, 'A man is justified in killing one
who has a design to kill him.' The young merchant Mal Deo, who
placed such magnificent presents at your royal feet, and
Shanta-Shil the devotee saint, who works his spells, incantations,
and magical rites in a cemetery on the banks of the Godaveri river,
are, as thou knowest, one person--the terrible Jogi, whose wrath
your father aroused in his folly, and whose revenge your blood
alone can satisfy. With regard to myself, the oilman's son, the
same Jogi, fearing lest I might interfere with his projects of
universal dominion, slew me by the power of his penance, and has
kept me suspended, a trap for you, head downwards from the
sires-tree.
"That Jogi it was, you now know, who sent you to fetch me back to
him on your back. And when you cast me at his feet he will return
thanks to you and praise your velour, perseverance and resolution
to the skies. I warn you to beware. He will lead you to the shrine of
Durga, and when he has finished his adoration he will say to you,
'O great king, salute my deity with the eightlimbed reverence.' "
Here the Vampire whispered for a time and in a low tone, lest
some listening goblin might carry his words if spoken out loud to
the ears of the devotee Shanta-Shil.
At the end of the monologue a rustling sound was heard. It
proceeded from the Baital, who was disengaging himself from the
dead body in the bundle, and the burden became sensibly lighter
upon the monarch's back.
The departing Baital, however, did not forget to bid farewell to the
warrior king and to his son. He complimented the former for the
last time, in his own way, upon the royal humility and the
prodigious self-mortification which he had displayed--qualities, he
remarked, which never failed to ensure the proprietor's success in
all the worlds.
Raja Vikram stepped out joyfully, and soon reached the burning
ground. There he found the Jogi, dressed in his usual habit, a
deerskin thrown over his back, and twisted reeds instead of a
garment hanging round his loins. The hair had fallen from his
limbs and his skin was bleached ghastly white by exposure to the
elements. A fire seemed to proceed from his mouth, and the matted
locks dropping from his head to the ground were changed by the
rays of the sun to the colour of gold or saffron. He had the beard of
a goat and the ornaments of a king; his shoulders were high and his
arms long, reaching to his knees: his nails grew to such a length as
to curl round the ends of his fingers, and his feet resembled those
of a tiger. He was drumming upon a skull, and incessantly
exclaiming, "Ho, Kali! ho, Durga! ho, Devi!"
As before, strange beings were holding their carnival in the Jogi's
presence. Monstrous Asuras, giant goblins, stood grimly gazing
upon the scene with fixed eyes and motionless features. Rakshasas
and messengers of Yama, fierce and hideous, assumed at pleasure
the shapes of foul and ferocious beasts. Nagas and Bhutas, partly
human and partly bestial, disported themselves in throngs about
the upper air, and were dimly seen in the faint light of the dawn.
Mighty Daityas, Bramba-daityas, and Pretas, the size of a man's
thumb, or dried up like leaves, and Pisachas of terrible power
guarded the place. There were enormous goats, vivified by the
spirits of those who had slain Brahmans; things with the bodies of
men and the faces of horses, camels and monkeys; hideous worms
containing the souls of those priests who had drunk spirituous
liquors; men with one leg and one ear, and mischievous
blood-sucking demons, who in life had stolen church property.
There were vultures, wretches that had violated the beds of their
spiritual fathers, restless ghosts that had loved low-caste women,
shades for whom funeral rites had not been performed, and who
could not cross the dread Vaitarani stream,[FN#188] and vital
souls fresh from the horrors of Tamisra, or utter darkness, and the
Usipatra Vana, or the sword-leaved forest. Pale spirits, Alayas,
Gumas, Baitals, and Yakshas,[FN#189] beings of a base and
vulgar order, glided over the ground, amongst corpses and
skeletons animated by female fiends, Dakinis, Yoginis, Hakinis,
and Shankinis, which were dancing in frightful revelry. The air
was filled with supernatural sights and sounds, cries of owls and
jackals, cats and crows, dogs, asses, and vultures, high above
which rose the clashing of the bones with which the Jogi sat
drumming upon the skull before him, and tending a huge cauldron
of oil whose smoke was of blue fire. But as he raised his long lank
arm, silver-white with ashes, the demons fled, and a momentary
silence succeeded to their uproar. The tigers ceased to roar and the
elephants to scream; the bears raised their snouts from their foul
banquets, and the wolves dropped from their jaws the remnants of
human flesh. And when they disappeared, the hooting of the owl,
and ghastly "ha! ha!" of the curlew, and the howling of the jackal
died away in the far distance, leaving a silence still more
oppressive.
As Raja Vikram entered the burning-ground, the hollow sound of
solitude alone met his ear. Sadly wailed the wet autumnal blast.
The tall gaunt trees groaned aloud, and bowed and trembled like
slaves bending before their masters. Huge purple clouds and
patches and lines of glaring white mist coursed furiously across the
black expanse of firmament, discharging threads and chains and
lozenges and balls of white and blue, purple and pink lightning,
followed by the deafening crash and roll of thunder, the dreadful
roaring of the mighty wind, and the torrents of plashing rain. At
times was heard in the distance the dull gurgling of the swollen
river, interrupted by explosions, as slips of earth-bank fell
headlong into the stream. But once more the Jogi raised his arm
and all was still: nature lay breathless, as if awaiting the effect of
his tremendous spells.
The warrior king drew near the terrible man, unstrung his bundle
from his back, untwisted the portion which he held, threw open the
cloth, and exposed to Shanta-Shil's glittering eyes the corpse,
which had now recovered its proper form--that of a young child.
Seeing it, the devotee was highly pleased, and thanked Vikram the
Brave, extolling his courage and daring above any monarch that
had yet lived. After which he repeated certain charms facing
towards the south, awakened the dead body, and placed it in a
sitting position. He then in its presence sacrificed to his goddess,
the White One,[FN#190] all that he had ready by his side--betel
leaf and flowers, sandal wood and unbroken rice, fruits, perfumes,
and the flesh of man untouched by steel. Lastly, he half filled his
skull with burning embers, blew upon them till they shot forth
tongues of crimson light, serving as a lamp, and motioning the
Raja and his son to follow him, led the way to a little fane of the
Destroying Deity erected in a dark clump of wood, outside and
close to the burning ground.
They passed through the quadrangular outer court of the temple
whose piazza was hung with deep shade.[FN#191] In silence they
circumambulated the small central shrine, and whenever
Shanta-Shil directed, Raja Vikram entered the Sabha, or vestibule,
and struck three times upon the gong, which gave forth a loud and
warning sound.
They then passed over the threshold, and looked into the gloomy
inner depths. There stood Smashana-Kali,[FN#192] the goddess, in
her most horrid form. She was a naked and very black woman,
with half-severed head, partly cut and partly painted, resting on her
shoulder; and her tongue lolled out from her wide yawning
mouth[FN#193]; her eyes were red like those of a drunkard; and
her eyebrows were of the same colour: her thick coarse hair hung
like a mantle to her heels. She was robed in an elephant's hide,
dried and withered, confined at the waist with a belt composed of
the hands of the giants whom she had slain in war: two dead
bodies formed her earrings, and her necklace was of bleached
skulls. Her four arms supported a scimitar, a noose, a trident, and a
ponderous mace. She stood with one leg on the breast of her
husband, Shiva, and she rested the other on his thigh. Before the
idol lay the utensils of worship, namely, dishes for the offerings,
lamps, jugs, incense, copper cups, conches and gongs; and all of
them smelt of blood.
As Raja Vikram and his son stood gazing upon the hideous
spectacle, the devotee stooped down to place his skull-lamp upon
the ground, and drew from out his ochre-coloured cloth a sharp
sword which he hid behind his back.
"Prosperity to shine and thy son's for ever and ever, O mighty
Vikram!" exclaimed Shanta-Shil, after he had muttered a prayer
before the image. "Verily thou hast right royally redeemed thy
pledge, and by the virtue of thy presence all my wishes shall
presently be accomplished. Behold! the Sun is about to drive his
car over the eastern hills, and our task now ends. Do thou
reverence before this my deity, worshipping the earth through thy
nose, and so prostrating thyself that thy eight limbs may touch the
ground.[FN#194] Thus shall thy glory and splendour be great; the
Eight Powers[FN#195] and the Nine Treasures shall be thine, and
prosperity shall ever remain under thy roof-tree."
Raja Vikram, hearing these words, recalled suddenly to mind all
that the Vampire had whispered to him. He brought his joined
hands open up to his forehead, caused his two thumbs to touch his
brow several times, and replied with the greatest humility,
"O pious person! I am a king ignorant of the way to do such
obeisance. Thou art a spiritual preceptor: be pleased to teach me
and I will do even as thou desirest."
Then the Jogi, being a cunning man, fell into his own net. As he
bent him down to salute the goddess, Vikram, drawing his sword,
struck him upon the neck so violent a blow, that his head rolled
from his body upon the ground. At the same moment Dharma
Dhwaj, seizing his father's arm, pulled him out of the way in time
to escape being crushed by the image, which fell with the sound of
thunder upon the floor of the temple.
A small thin voice in the upper air was heard to cry, "A man is
justified in killing one who has the desire to kill him." Then glad
shouts of triumph and victory were heard in all directions. They
proceeded from the celestial choristers, the heavenly dancers, the
mistresses of the gods, and the nymphs of Indra's Paradise, who
left their beds of gold and precious stones, their seats glorious as
the meridian sun, their canals of crystal water, their perfumed
groves, and their gardens where the wind ever blows in softest
breezes, to applaud the velour and good fortune of the warrior
king.
At last the brilliant god, Indra himself, with the thousand eyes,
rising from the shade of the Parigat tree, the fragrance of whose
flowers fills the heavens, appeared in his car drawn by yellow
steeds and cleaving the thick vapours which surround the earth--
whilst his attendants sounded the heavenly drums and rained a
shower of blossoms and perfumes--bade the Vikramajit the Brave
ask a boon.
The Raja joined his hands and respectfully replied,
"O mighty ruler of the lower firmament, let this my history
become famous throughout the world!"
"It is well," rejoined the god. "As long as the sun and moon
endure, and the sky looks down upon the ground, so long shall this
thy adventure be remembered over all the earth. Meanwhile rule
thou mankind."
Thus saying, Indra retired to the delicious Amrawati[FN#196]
Vikram took up the corpses and threw them into the cauldron
which Shanta-Shil had been tending. At once two heroes started
into life, and Vikram said to them, "When I call you, come!"
With these mysterious words the king, followed by his son,
returned to the palace unmolested. As the Vampire had predicted,
everything was prosperous to him, and he presently obtained the
remarkable titles, Sakaro, or foe of the Sakas, and
Sakadhipati-Vikramaditya.
And when, after a long and happy life spent in bringing the world
under the shadow of one umbrella, and in ruling it free from care,
the warrior king Vikram entered the gloomy realms of Yama, from
whom for mortals there is no escape, he left behind him a name
that endured amongst men like the odour of the flower whose
memory remains long after its form has mingled with the
dust.[FN#197]