The old priest listened to them sympathetically, but sadly replied that a commoner could never marry a daughter of the Inca, a descendant of Inti or Viracocha, the sun-god. In fact, were he to marry them, the old priest himself could lose his life. Cusicollur told the priest that it was not a sin for her to marry Ollantay; rather, it was a greater sin to keep them apart.
Sometime later, Cusicollur learned that she was pregnant. She told her father and he sent her away to live with the priestesses of the sun, where no man may ever go, not even the Inca himself. There she gave birth to a beautiful little daughter named Yma Sumac, which means “very beautiful.” The child was taken from her to be raised in a separate part of the temple. Meanwhile, the great Inca pronounced a death sentence on Ollantay.
The Inca’s troops pursued Ollantay and his men into a valley, where Ollantay’s men soundly defeated the pursuers. However, the Inca’s general, Rumanahui, waited for Ollantay’s warriors to fall asleep. Then Rumanahui opened the gates and his warriors took Ollantay and all his men prisoner. Ollantay himself was bound with ropes to be taken to Cuzco, capital of the empire, for execution.
On the journey to Cuzco, a messenger ran to Rumanahui with the news that the old Inca had died and his son, Tupac Yupanqui,* Cusicollur’s brother, was now ruler of Tahuantisuyo. Ollantay was a boyhood friend of the new emperor; perhaps there was still hope.
At Cuzco, Tupac Yupanqui awaited Ollantay and looked very sad. “My father, dear friend, the great Inca Pachacutec, ordered your execution and there is nothing I can do but carry it out. But, since you are my friend, I will allow you to speak.”
Ollantay told the emperor that he understood the law and his friend’s duty to carry it out. But he was not a traitor to the emperor; the law was a traitor to love. This law had kept apart two people who loved each other and even had a child together. He could never love anyone but Cusicollur. Then he told the emperor, “The gods, not men, decide who falls in love with whom.” Thus, it was the will of the gods that he and Cusicollur marry. Even though the new Inca was a god himself, he could not stop the power of love.
Tupac Yupanqui was deeply moved by these words. Today he is still remembered as one of the wisest and most compassionate of all the Incas. He revoked the death sentence on Ollantay, convinced that this was the will of the gods. Tupac Yupanqui then ordered Cusicollur and Yma Sumac brought to the palace. Ollantay and Cusicollur were married, and Ollantay became the Inca’s chief general and adviser.
ANGUS OG
(Scotland and Ireland)
Angus Og [“Angus the Young”] is the Gaelic god of love. And as love always makes people youthful, the name fits. Four bright birds hover about his head—the embodiment of his kisses. Anyone hearing the songs of these birds falls hopelessly in love. Angus is the son of the Dagda (“the Good God”), the Supreme Being. Angus himself is constantly in love.
Once Angus fell dangerously ill from “love sickness” for a young girl, and his mother, Boanna, searched all of Ireland to find her without success. Then the great Dagda was called in, but even he could not find her. The Dagda asked Bov the Red for assistance, as Bov knew all mysteries. Bov himself did not know where she was, but he eventually found her at the Lake of the Dragon’s Mouth.
Angus then went to see Bov and they feasted together for three days. Eager to see his beloved, Angus begged Bov to take him to her. When they arrived at the Lake of the Dragon’s Mouth, Angus saw a hundred and fifty beautiful maidens, the most beautiful in the world, walking in pairs, each pair linked by a chain of pure gold. One maiden was taller than the rest; this was the girl that Angus loved. Angus was seized with desire and wanted to carry her off. However, Bov warned that she would not be separated from the others without difficulty. The girl’s name was Caer, and she was the daughter of an unrelated semidivine prince of the province of Connacht.
Angus went to see the king and queen of Connacht to seek their assistance in winning the hand of Caer, but even the king and queen had no power to help. What irony! Angus, who made all lovers fall in love, was unable to win the hand of his own beloved without help. The king and queen, however, did agree to send a message to Caer’s father asking for Caer’s hand on Angus’s behalf.
Angus approached Caer’s father to ask her hand, but the older man refused to see the young suitor. The armies of the Dagda and the king of Connacht besieged the home of Caer’s father and took him prisoner. However, Caer’s father finally explained that he had no power to give his daughter in marriage; her magic was more powerful than his. He further explained that Caer lived six months out of every year in the form of a woman and the other six months in the form of a swan. On the feast of Samhain,* Caer would be found again at the lake with the other girls, all in the form of swans.†
Angus went to the lake on the feast of Samhain and begged Caer, now a swan, to be his bride. She asked who he was and he explained that he was Angus Og, the god of love. As he spoke his name, he himself was transformed into a swan, and he and Caer lived together forever after. Angus now often appears to lovers in the guise of the swan, and this is why lovers like to meet near lakes.
ALGON AND THE SKY-GIRL
(Algonquin Indian)
Algon was a great hunter who found a strange circle cut in the prairie grass. Hiding in the bushes nearby, he watched to see what might have caused it. Finally, a great willow basket descended from the sky bearing twelve beautiful maidens. The maidens got out of the basket and began singing celestial songs and doing circle dances. All of the girls were beautiful, but the most beautiful of all was the youngest, with whom Algon was immediately smitten.
He ran toward the circle in the hope of stealing her away, but just as he arrived, the girls were alarmed and left in the basket, which flew high into the sky. This happened again three more times, but Algon’s resolve only grew. Then he devised a strategy.
He placed a hollow tree trunk near the circle. Inside the tree trunk lived a family of mice. He took some charms out of his medicine bag and transformed himself into a mouse. When the girls in the basket next arrived, he and the other mice ran among the girls. The girls stomped on the mice, killing all of them but Algon, who then resumed his human form and carried off his beloved.
He took her to his village and in time she fell in love with him. They had a son and the three lived very happily for a time. But as the years passed, the sky-girl grew very homesick. She spent the entire day gazing up at the sky, thinking of her sisters and parents. This homesickness continued until she could no longer bear it. So she built a magic willow basket, placed her son and some gifts for her people in it, climbed in, and headed for the sky. She remained there for years.
In her absence, Algon pined for his wife and son. Every day he went to sit in the magic circle, in the hope that they would return. He was now growing old.
Meanwhile, in the far-off sky-country, his son was growing into manhood. The lad asked questions about his father, which made the sky-girl miss Algon. She and her son spoke to her father, the chief of the sky-people. He told them to go back to the earth, but ordered them to return with Algon and the identifying feature of each of the earth animals.
Then the sky-girl and the son returned to earth. Algon was overjoyed to see them and was eager to gather the gifts the sky-chief wanted. From the bear, he took a claw; from the eagle, hawk, and falcon, a feather; from the raccoon, its teeth; and from the deer, its horns and hide. He placed all of these gifts in a special medicine bag, and ascended with his wife and son to the sky-country in their willow basket. His father-in-law divided the tokens among his people, offering tokens to Algon and the sky-girl; and they chose the falcon feather. The chief said that they should always be free to travel between the sky-country and the earth, and so Algon and his wife became falcons. Their descendants still fly high and swoop down over the forests and prairies.
* This myth is the basis of the play presented within Shakespeares A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
* This term (pronounced “WAH-cah”)
should not be directly translated as “god,” but rather stands for a divine spirit that is associated with a certain place.
† Spanish for “peasant.”
** Although the Incas did not have writing, they kept records through the use of color-coded knotted cords, which they called quipu (pronounced “KEE-poo”).
* Tupac Yupanqui, and probably Ollantay, were historical characters who lived roughly during the twelfth or thirteenth century A.D., some three or four centuries before the arrival of the Spanish conquistadores.
* Samhain (pronounced “SOW-un”) is the feast of Halloween, or the Chnstian All Saints’ Eve. It was on this day that the Gaelic people believed the spirits came to visit the living, and they offered these spirits gifts and food.
† As we noted earlier, the swan is often, like the serpent, interpreted as one who inhabits two worlds. Compare the swans in the story of Angus Og with the swans that appear in Finnish and American Indian myths. Also, compare Cupid [Greek: “Eros”] with his irresistible arrows and Angus’s birds. Cupid is often pictured as having wings, and Angus flies from place to place as a swan.
7. Morality Tales from the Myths
Listen to this law, my people,
Pay attention to what I say;
I am going to speak to you in parable
and expound the mysteries of our past.
What we have heard and known for ourselves,
And what our ancestors have told us,
must not be withheld from their descendants,
but be handed on by us to the next generation;
that is: the titles of the Lord, his power
and the miracles he has done.
When he issued the decrees for Jacob
and instituted a law for Israel,
he gave our ancestors strict orders
to teach it to their children;
the next generation was to learn it,
the children still to be born,
and these in turn were to tell their own children
so that they too would put their confidence in God,
never forgetting God’s achievements,
and always keeping his commandments.
—Psalms 78:1-7
MORALITY TALES FROM THE MAHABHARATA
(India)
THE VIRTUE OF COMPASSION
There was once a hunter from the city of Varanasi [Benares], on the sacred Ganges River. He went out to shoot antelope with his bow and a full quiver of poison arrows. When he was far out into the forest, he spotted a herd of antelope and shot his arrows at them, missing every one. One of his arrows, however, did hit an ancient tree where a kindly old parrot lived. As soon as the arrow struck, the old tree began to wither and die. But the parrot, who had been born in that very tree and spent all of its life there, refused to abandon it.
The parrot remained in the tree, not even leaving to find new food to eat. As the tree withered, so did the parrot. The bird just remained in the very spot where it was born, motionless and mourning in silence. The sky god Indra looked down on the faithful parrot and decided to visit the bird, taking the human form of a noble Brahman.
Indra, in this guise, asked the bird, “Why don’t you leave this tree? It is almost completely dead.” But the parrot replied, “I cannot leave this tree. I was born here; for my entire life, this tree has given me a home, food to eat, and refuge from my enemies. How could I ever leave such a faithful friend?” But Indra replied, “It is you, O parrot, who is a faithful friend.” Deeply moved by the parrot’s loyalty, Indra touched the withered tree and it was restored to life.
Indra then told the parrot, “I have brought the tree back to life, but it is really you, the faithful parrot, that kept it alive.”
With this story of friendship, faithfulness, and the virtue of compassion, everyone who hears it will be blessed; everyone who tells it will be blessed twice.
THE KING, THE HAWK, AND THE PIGEON
There was once a beautiful pigeon who was being pursued by a fierce hawk. The pigeon asked King Vrishadarbha of Varanasi for protection. The kindly king said, “Why are you so afraid, little fellow?” The pigeon replied that the hawk was about to tear it to shreds. The king told the pigeon, “I will do all I can to defend and protect you, even if it costs me my own life. The gods have certainly sent you to me as a test.”
Then the hawk came to the king and said, “Look, I understand that you are compassionate, and that you promised the pigeon that you would risk your own life to save its life. However, I am a hawk; hawks eat pigeons. If I don’t have a pigeon to eat, I might starve to death. Now, if you are truly compassionate, you will hand the pigeon over and I can eat it. Then we can forget about all of this business.”
Then the king said, “0 hawk, you can fly anywhere—why don’t you just eat something else? Why not a frog or a bull or any other animal?” The hawk replied that it was not its nature to eat beef or frog or anything but pigeons. At this point the hawk grew impatient and said, “If you feel so strongly about having to protect the pigeon, why don’t you offer me some of your own flesh in an amount equal to the weight of the pigeon?” The king agreed to do this, to the amazement of all his court.
So the pigeon was weighed on a scale and the king actually cut pieces from his own flesh to try to equal its weight, but the little bird always weighed more! The king did this until he was merely a skeleton, and still the little bird weighed more.
Suddenly, the heavens opened and celestial music poured through the palace of the king. The gods had watched the entire proceeding and they were deeply moved by the king’s great loyalty in keeping his vow to a humble pigeon. A shower of nectar fell from heaven and the king was restored to his healthy former condition. Indra himself rode down from heaven in a chariot and carried the king away alive to the highest heaven.
For Indra told all that were there: “It is one thing to make a promise and keep it. It is quite another to keep the promise so well that one sacrifices one’s self. He who puts himself at risk to help another is truly a friend of the gods.” And whoever hears this story will be blessed; whoever tells it will be blessed twice.
GAUTAMA AND THE ELEPHANT
There was once a sage named Gautama who found a motherless baby elephant and took care of it. He grew to love this elephant and protected it until it became a mighty beast. Indra was watching all this from heaven, and came to earth in the form of King Dhitarashtra.
In this mortal guise, he tried to take the elephant away from Gautama, but Gautama implored him not to separate him from the elephant who was indispensable to him as a companion; it carried food and water. But “Dhitarashtra” replied that such a handsome animal should be the property of a king, not of some sage living in the forest.
Gautama replied that he did not consider the elephant “property” or a “possession” but, rather, his oldest and dearest friend.
“Dhitarashtra” then tried to buy the elephant, offering Gautama gold, silver, cattle, beautiful maidens, even a palace. Gautama told him, “Even if you go to the realm of Yama [death] and take me with you, you will not be able to take my elephant away from me.”
Indra, as Dhitarashtra, replied, “Those who go down to the land of death ruled by Yama are sinful, and slaves of their desires.” Gautama replied, “There is much truth to be found in the land of the dead; there the weak are equal to the powerful and can even overcome them.” Then the “king” said, “I am too powerful and too holy to go to the land of Yama.” Gautama said, “That may well be, but even if you go up to the highest heaven ruled by Indra, you shall never have my elephant.” This persisted until the “king” said, “What if I go to the place of Brahma the Creator and he tells me that the elephant is mine?”
The sage laughed and said, “Brahma the Creator knows all things and loves all things; your power means nothing to him. But the power of love that I feel for my elephant is more powerful than wealth, weapons, or anything else in the universe. I know who you are—you are Indra, who tests the wis
e.”
Indra was so delighted by the faithfulness of Gautama to his elephant that he offered the sage any request. Gautama could have asked for riches or property, but all he asked for was to remain with his elephant. Indra told him, “You need not ask for wisdom; you already have that. As for riches, you are the richest man on earth, he who knows the value of a good friend.” Years later, when Gautama was ready to die, Indra took him and the elephant alive together to the highest heaven.
And he who hears this story will be blessed; he who tells it will be twice blessed.
ANANSI THE SPIDER
(West Africa)
NOTE: These stories are of particular interest because they come from the Ashanti of Ghana and were brought to the Americas, where they survive—in the American South, the West Indies, and Brazil—as the “Annancy” stories.
They are wonderful lessons about the results of arrogance.
ANANSI AND THE EAR OF CORN
Anansi was one of God’s chosen, and he lived in human form before he became a spider. One day he asked God for a simple ear of corn, promising that he would repay God with one hundred servants. God was always amused by the boastful and resourceful Anansi, and gave him the ear of corn. Anansi set out with the ear and came to a village to rest. He told the chief of the village that he had a sacred ear of corn from God and needed both a place to sleep for the night and a safe place to keep the treasure. The chief treated Anansi as an honored guest and gave him a thatched-roof house to stay in, showing him a hiding place in the roof.
During the night, while the entire village was fast asleep, Anansi took the corn and fed it to the chickens. The next morning Anansi woke the village with his cries. “What happened to the sacred corn? Who stole it? Certainly God will bring great punishment on this village!” He made such a fuss that the villagers begged him to take a whole bushel of corn as a demonstration of their apologies.
Parallel Myths Page 16