Sani then explained the trick he had played on the iroko tree, and warned Oluronbi never again to make a promise to anybody without first asking his advice.
Layinka grew up to be a sweet and lovable girl, and in time wedded the prince and lived happily ever after, to the joy and satisfaction of her parents.
XX. The Head
There once was a strange country where the inhabitants had heads but no bodies. The Heads moved about the ground by taking little jumps, but they never went far, because it was such a slow way of travelling.
One of the Heads grew restless and desired to see the world, so one day he set off and travelled as fast as he could over the bumpy ground to the border of the next kingdom. At this spot a hunter’s cottage stood, and seeing a woman in the doorway, the Head called out:
“I pray you, friend, can you lend me a body? I desire to see the world, and this method of travelling is too slow for me.”
The woman took pity on the Head, and lent him the body of her young servant boy. After that the Head went along a little faster, but he began to grow weary and was glad indeed to reach a small village.
Under a large shady tree a young man lay drowsing, away from the heat of the sun, and the Head approached him.
“I pray you, friend,” said the Head, “can you lend me a pair of arms? I desire to see the world, but I should be much better off if I had arms.”
The young man, who was of a lazy disposition, thought for a moment before replying:
“Well, I would gladly lend you my arms, but I shall need them two days from now, when I have promised to help my father on the farm.”
“I require your arms only for one day,” returned the Head eagerly. “To-morrow evening I will gladly bring them back to you, if you will do me this great kindness.”
The young man then consented to lend his arms, and the Head set off once more, helping himself along with his new hands, and he soon covered quite a good distance.
Towards evening, however, his body began to ache and his hands to smart, from the roughness of the road, and he therefore stooped at a river-side, near some fishermen’s huts, and asked if anyone could lend him a pair of legs.
“I desire to see the world,” explained the Head, “but what use am I without legs? With legs one can do a thousand things!”
One of the fishermen agreed to lend the Head his legs just for one day, and so with a complete and handsome form the Head took long strides in the direction of a town which he could see in the distance. As he approached, he heard the sound of music, and on reaching the town he found all the inhabitants gathered in a certain place to watch the dancing of young maidens about to become betrothed.
One maiden, more beautiful and graceful than the rest, received all the applause, and as he gazed at her, the Head fell instantly in love.
When she finished her dance and disappeared from sight, the Head lost all interest in the sights of the town, which he had travelled so far to see, and he spent the whole night in strolling miserably to and fro, and wondering if he would ever behold the beautiful maiden again.
The next morning he sought her early among the groups of girls chattering in the market-place or busy washing clothes in the river. She was nowhere to be found.
In despair the Head was just about to return to his own country, when he saw the maiden, with whose charms he was so overpowered, walking along with a large calabash of pineapples on her head, for she was one of the fruit-sellers, and had been selling fruit in other parts of the town all morning.
On the pretence that he wished to buy pineapples, the Head approached her and said:
“Beautiful maiden, what is your name?”
“My name,” she replied, in girlish confusion, “is Aduke.”
“Then, Aduke,” said the love-smitten Head, “you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I am entirely overcome by the power of your charms.”
“Alas, noble youth! You are certainly mocking me!” cried the girl in astonishment.
“Indeed, such an intention is far from my thoughts,” he replied earnestly. “I have spent the whole night thinking about you, and if you will consent to become my bride and return with me to my own country, I shall be as happy as the lion, king of animals, who, having no rival, secures the richest of all the prizes in his hunting.”
Aduke could not help admiring his tall stature, graceful bearing, and smooth words, and therefore answered:
“Is your country far from here? I should be very lonely.”
“My country is but one day’s journey hence, and I promise you that any time you desire to see your friends you may return here for one day’s visit, but only if you will agree to stay with me always like a faithful wife, whatever happens.”
After a great deal of persuasion, the maiden’s heart was won, and before evening the marriage was performed, and dancing and feasting continued long into the night at the house of the bride’s parents.
As soon as it was dawn, the Head was anxious to depart, and tearing the weeping girl from her parents and friends, he bade her somewhat harshly to make ready for the journey. Shortly afterwards the pair left the town together, Aduke casting sorrowful glances behind her as her home grew more and more distant.
“If you are always looking back,” said the Head sadly, “I shall feel sure that you do not love me.”
“Indeed,” replied his bride, “I regret leaving my home, but I will stay with you always like a faithful wife, whatever happens.”
After walking for some time, they reached a river, with a few fishermen’s huts on its banks. Here the Head stopped, and to the horror of his bride removed his legs and gave them to one of the fishermen who sat mending his nets in front of a hut.
“Have you seen the world, friend?” asked the fisherman.
“Yes, and your legs have won me a beautiful bride,” replied the Head; and as he moved forward on his hands and body, Aduke burst into tears and followed him weeping.
They had not been progressing thus for many hours when they reached a village. Here they partook of food and drink, for Aduke was by this time faint with weariness and bitterly regretted her foolishness in listening to the fine words of the stranger.
When they were sufficiently rested, and were about to proceed on their way, the Head called out to a youth who lay under the shade of a large breadfruit tree. The youth recognized him and came forward.
“Friend, here are your arms,” said the Head.
“I am very glad to have them back again,” replied the youth. “I must hasten to my father’s fields, or I shall receive a good beating for my laziness. Have you seen the world now, friend?”
“Yes,” said the Head as before, “and your arms have won me this beautiful bride.”
Weeping more bitterly than ever, Aduke followed her husband as he moved very slowly along the road.
Towards evening they reached a small hunter’s cottage. Here a woman stood in the doorway, and on seeing the Head she seemed very glad and hastened forward, exclaiming:
“We have had such an uproar in the house. My servant has been demanding his body the whole time, and has given us no peace. I suppose you have seen the world now, friend.”
“Yes, indeed, and your servant’s body has won me this beautiful bride.”
When she saw that her husband was nothing more nor less than a head, Aduke ran forward and walked in front of him, as she could not bear to look upon him.
What was her surprise, therefore, on reaching his home, to find that all the inhabitants of the country were in a similar condition.
However, she could not grow accustomed to the strangeness of seeing her husband and his friends bounding along the ground without either body or limbs, and even after living in the country of the Heads for a very long time, she did nothing but weep and regret the pleasant existence she had left behind.
At length, realizing that she would soon die of grief if she continued in this manner, she approached her husband and addressed him as follow
s:
“It is now a long time, husband, since you brought me here from my own country, and even if I live to be a hundred I shall never grow accustomed to the strange life in this place. I have forgiven you for the cruel trick you played on me, when I promised to accompany you and to remain faithfully with you for ever; but I must ask you one small favour, without which I can no longer exist here with you!”
“What is the favour?” asked her husband, feeling sad and anxious.
“I desire you to cut off my body and limbs, so that I may be a Head like one of you, and no longer feel my loneliness here in a strange country.”
Joyfully the Head consented, and Aduke became a Head. After this she ceased weeping, and became happy and contented among her husband’s people.
Now and again she put on her body and visited her parents for a day. Her husband never accompanied her, and at the end of the day she always returned dutifully home and became a Head again, living thus to a very great age, and being renowned throughout the country of the Heads for her beauty, wisdom, and virtue.
The moral of this story is, that where we cannot alter our circumstances, it is the wisest course to adapt ourselves to them.
XXI. Tortoise Tricks the Lion
“Oh, King!” cried Tortoise one day, “how many ears have you?”
“I still have two, and you may be sure they are both impatient to hear what you are about to say,” replied the King, for when Tortoise saluted him in this manner, he always had something exciting to relate.
“Well,” said Tortoise, “I have heard that on the edge of the great desert which lies to the north of Your Majesty’s kingdom, there dwells a Lion—a very ferocious monster—who, not content with being King of the Desert, desires to be King of the Forest as well, and who is now marching upon villages in the bush and eating everybody he meets.”
The King trembled, and the members of his Court cast frightened looks here and there, as if they feared the Lion might walk in upon them at any moment.
“Do not speak of it, Chief Tortoise!” said the King hastily. “It is a very terrible thing, and has cost me several sleepless nights. But what is there to be done? This Lion is afraid of nothing. His roar causes trees to fall and the elephant and leopard to hide for safety when they hear it. Even a dozen men cannot capture the King of the Desert, for he knocks them down with his mighty paws and devours them one after another, and the spears they throw are turned aside from his yellow body by some powerful charm which no one can discover.”
“Yes,” said Tortoise boldly, “I have heard all this, and a lot more besides, which I will not trouble to repeat, as it would only cause you more sleepless nights. Yes, I have heard; but I am not afraid. True, I am not very strong, but I am cunning, and by cunning I shall outwit this terrible beast and so rid the forest of a dangerous enemy.”
“Alas, my little champion!” exclaimed the King. “With one blow of his paw the Lion will smash your shell to pieces. How can you harm such a creature?”
Tortoise waved his head knowingly from side to side, and replied:
“There is a proverb, ‘One may enter the house and yet not enter the heart,’ but I mean to enter both.”
“You speak in riddles, Tortoise, but if you return alive, I will give you a palace to live in!” declared the King. And soon afterwards Tortoise set off on his long journey to the north.
After he had travelled for many days, he came to a village almost at the edge of the forest, where the people told him that the Lion was not far away, and that they expected him at any moment to run into the village and eat them all up.
“I seem to have arrived just in time!” declared Tortoise. “I have been sent by the King, and I am going to save you all from this horrible beast.”
“Alas, brave Tortoise! How can you hope to defeat the Lion, when he has been known to devour, one after another, ten mighty warriors who rushed out with their spears to slay him?”
“I carry no spear,” replied Tortoise modestly. “I am no doubt a poor, weak creature, but I shall defeat the Lion by cunning.”
Despite all protests, Tortoise set off to find the Lion, whose name was Kiniyun. He walked boldly through the forest in the direction pointed out by the villagers, until he came to Kiniyun’s house, which was a dark cave surrounded and almost buried by grasses and creepers.
Kiniyun was away killing people in some village, so Tortoise went into the cave and waited in the darkest corner for the Lion’s return.
Late in the evening, when it was very dark and gloomy inside the cave, Kiniyun came back, and Tortoise heard his feet padding about the cave, as if he suspected the presence of a stranger.
“Friend,” said Tortoise at once. “I have lost my way in the forest, and I came into this cave for shelter. Who are you?”
The Lion began to roar in a very terrifying manner.
“Who am I? I am Kiniyun, King of the Desert and of the Forest, and I mean to eat you up.”
“Great King,” said Tortoise in his small, high voice, “I should be a very tasteless mouthful, and I am sure that so great a monarch has no need of such a miserable banquet.”
“True enough,” said Kiniyun. “But I make a point of devouring everybody, and why should I make an exception of you, who—to judge by your voice and smell, for I cannot see you—are a most insignificant creature.”
“Ah!” said Tortoise. “It is just because of that that I feel you ought to spare me! I am far too insignificant to harm you. Besides, if you eat everybody you meet, you must feel very lonely, and I think we could spend a pleasant evening together.”
“Very well,” agreed Kiniyun. “We may as well enjoy a little conversation—but I warn you, I may eat you all the same, if the feeling comes over me.”
“Let us hope it will not!” murmured Tortoise fervently, and he came a little forward.
The two animals sat down side by side and began to talk about the forest. Tortoise told the Lion funny stories about the cowardly leopard, and the cowardly wolf, and the cowardly elephant, and the cowardly giraffe, until tears rolled down Kiniyun’s face, and he shook the cave with his laughter.
“Ha! ha! ha! What cowards there are in the forest! It is time you had a real king like myself to reign over you.”
“If there are any of us left when you have finished eating!” observed Tortoise, and the Lion went into another fit of laughter.
“No doubt,” pursued his guest, “you do not fear anything in the world?”
“Certainly not! And do you fear anything?”
“Why, yes!” admitted Tortoise frankly. “I confess that I cannot bear to see a crab, and I detest the boa-constrictor. But let us make a fire, for the night is cold . . . and besides, I would like to see you!”
“Oh no,” said Kiniyun hastily. “I won’t have a fire in here. Why, it is dangerous!”
Tortoise and the Lion. Page 77.
However, Tortoise gave him no peace, and persisted in his demand for a fire.
“Surely the King of the Forest and of the Scorching Desert is not afraid of fire!” he said mockingly.
The Lion repeated indignantly that he was afraid of nothing, and at last consented to have a fire—but not inside the cave.
So they both went outside and made a fire and sat down beside it. But Tortoise noticed that the Lion kept at a good distance from the fire, and watched the flames suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.
“Dear me! What a cold night it is!” said Tortoise, pretending to shiver. “I have never felt so cold at the end of the rainy season before. I will put some more branches on the fire.”
“No!” cried Lion. “Fire is dangerous. This is quite big enough—I can’t allow you to add any more branches!”
“Ha! ha!” thought Tortoise inside his head. “Lion is afraid of fire!” But aloud he only remarked: “Yes, you are right. Fire is dangerous. Have you heard about the great fire which happened a hundred years ago?”
“No,” said Kiniyun, trembling and moving still further
away. “Tell me about it at once, before I eat you. I begin to feel hungry again.”
“Well,” Tortoise made haste to reply, “a hundred years ago in a village not far from this spot, a small fire was left burning at night when everybody was asleep. And suddenly the dry grass caught fire, and then the shrubs caught fire, and soon even the tallest trees were a mass of flames, and everyone perished.”
“What a gruesome tale!” cried Kiniyun, his teeth chattering and his mane shaking with fear. “But, of course, that was a hundred years ago, long before you or I were born, and I don’t expect it will occur again.”
Tortoise chuckled.
“Not occur again? Why, the forest is on fire at this very minute!”
Kiniyun gave a roar and sprang up into the air.
“On fire? Where? When? How? Why?”
“Where?” replied Tortoise. “At the next village from here, in the direction of the south. When? This evening as I came through. How? By the carelessness of the Chief’s wife, who overturned a jar of oil while she was cooking the supper. Why? Because the forest is a dangerous place to live in.”
Lion ran here and there in great terror, sniffing the air for fire, and when his back was turned, Tortoise quickly seized one of the flaming branches, and threw it into the grass beside the cave, and all in a moment the dry grass began to blaze and crackle.
“Look! look!” cried Tortoise. “Did I not tell you that the forest is on fire?”
But Lion, with another roar, set off as hard as he could go towards the desert. Tortoise at once put out the fire and hastened back to the village, where he beat loudly on a drum and summoned all the people together.
“Light a great fire in the centre of the village,” he commanded. “Do not waste time asking me questions. I will tell you all about it later.”
The villagers obeyed without hesitation, and made a great fire of wood, so that the night soon appeared as light as day.
Meanwhile Kiniyun had stopped running, thinking that after all there might be no fire in the forest.
Ajapa the Tortoise Page 7