English · E. B. Cowell (ed.), R. Chalmers, W. H. D. Rouse, H. T. Francis, R. A. NeilOnce upon a time, they say, ninety thousand geese dwelt in Golden Cave on mount Cittakuta. For four months in the rainy season they do not stir out. If they should do so, their wings being full of water, they would be unable to take a long flight and would fall into the sea, and therefore they do not stir out, but when the rainy season is drawing near, they gather wild paddy from a natural lake, and filling their cave with it live upon rice. But no sooner had they entered the cave than an unnanabhi spider as big as a chariot wheel at the entrance of the cave used to spin a web every month, and each thread of it was as thick as a cow’s halter. The geese give two portions of food to a young goose, thinking he will then be able to break through the web. When the sky clears, this young goose being in front of them severs the web and the rest all escape by the same way. Now once the rainy season lasted five months, and the food of the geese grew short. They consulted as to what was to be done and said, “If we are to live, we must take the eggs.” First they ate the eggs, then the goslings and after that the old geese. At the end of five months the rain left off, the spider had spun five webs, and the geese from eating the flesh of their kin had grown feeble. The young goose that had received a double portion of food, striking at the webs broke four of them but could not break the fifth, and stuck there. So the spider cut off his head and drank his blood. First one and then another came and struck the web, and the spider said, “Here’s another of them stuck in the same place,” and sucked the blood of all of them, and at that time the family of the dhatarattha geese became extinct, they say. The king was anxious to give yet another illustration, but the citizens rising up said, “My lord commander, what do you propose to do? How will you proceed now you have caught the man-eating rogue? If he does not give it up, have him expelled from his kingdom,” and they would not suffer the king to say a word. Hearing the common talk of the people, the king was terrified and could say nothing more, and once again the commander said to him, “Sire, will it be possible for you to give it up” ‘“‘Impossible,” he said. So the commander placed on one side all his harem, his sons and his daughters, arrayed in all their splendour, and said, ‘Sire, behold this circle of your kinsfolk, this band of councillors and your royal pomp: be not undone, but cease from eating man’s flesh.” The king said, “All this is not dearer to me than man’s flesh.” “Then depart, sire, from this city and kingdom.” “Kalahatthi,” he said, ‘I do not want my kingdom; I am ready to depart, but grant me one favour; let me have my sword and my cook.” So they let him take a sword, a vessel for cooking man’s flesh and a basket, and giving him his cook they carried out his expulsion from the kingdom. Taking his cook he set out from the city and entered a forest and made his dwelling at the foot of a banyan tree. Living there he would take his stand on the road which led through the forest, and killing men he would bring their bodies and give them to the cook, and he cooked the flesh and served it up and both of them lived after this manner. And when he sallied forth, crying, “Here am I, the man-eating robber” no one could hold his own, and they all fell to the ground and any one of them that he fancied, he seized, heels upwards or not as it might happen, and gave him to his cook. One day, he did not find any man in the forest, and when on his return the cook said, “How is this, sire” he told him to put the pot on the brasier. “But where is the meat, sire” ‘Oh! I will find some meat,” he said. Thought the cook, “I ama dead man,” and all of a tremble he made a fire and put the pot on the brasier. Then the man-eater killed him with a stroke of his sword and cooked and ate his flesh. Thenceforth he was quite alone and had to cook his food himself. The rumour spread throughout all India, “‘The man-eater murders wayfaring men.” At that time a certain wealthy brahmin who traded with five hundred waggons was travelling from the east in a westerly direction and he thought, “This man-eating robber, they say, murders men on the road. By a payment of money I will make my way through the forest.” So he paid a thousand pieces of money to the people who lived at the entrance of the forest, bidding them convoy him safely through it and set out on the road with them. He placed all his caravan in front of him, and having bathed and anointed himself and put on sumptuous apparel he seated himself in an easy carriage drawn by white oxen, and escorted by his convoy he travelled last of all. The man-eater climbing up a tree was on the look out for men, but though he felt no appetite for any of the rest of the convoy, no sooner did he catch sight of the brahmin than his mouth watered through desire to eat him. When the brahmin came up to him, he proclaimed his name, crying, “Here am I, the man-eating robber,” and brandishing his sword, like to one filling men’s eyes with sand, he leaped upon them and no man was able to stand up against him, but they all fell prone upon the ground. Seizing the brahmin as he sat in his easy carriage by the foot he slung him on his back, head downwards, and striking his head against his heels so carried him off. The men rising up cried one to another, “Ho! my man, bestir yourself. We received a thousand pieces of money from the brahmin’s hands. Who amongst us wears the semblance of a man? Let us, one and all, strong man or weakling, pursue him for a short space.” They pursued him and the man-eater stopped and looked back, and not seeing anyone went slowly on. At that moment a bold fellow running at full speed came up with him. On seeing him, the robber leaping over a fence trod upon an acacia splinter’ which, wounding him, came out at the top of his foot, and the robber went limping along with the blood trickling from the wound. Then his pursuer on seeing it said, “Surely I have wounded him: you just follow on behind and I will catch him.” They saw how feeble he was and joined in the pursuit. When the robber saw that he was pursued he dropped the brahmin and secured his own safety. The brahmin’s escort as soon as they had recovered him thought, ‘What have we got to do with this robber” and turned back. But the man-eater, going to the foot of his banyan tree, lay down amongst the shoots and offered up a prayer to the spirit of the tree, saying, “My lady, nymph of the tree, if within seven days thou canst heal my wound, I will bathe thy trunk with blood from the throats of one hundred and one princes from all India, and will hang the tree all round with their inwards and offer up a sacrifice of the five sweet kinds of flesh.” Now, in consequence of having nothing to eat or drink, his body wasted away, and within the seven days his wound healed. He recognised that his cure was due to the tree-nymph, and in a few days he recovered his strength by eating man’s flesh and thought, ‘The spirit has been very helpful to me, I will discharge my vow.” Taking his sword he sallied forth from the foot of the tree and set out, purposing to bring the kings. Now, a Yakkha which had gone about as his comrade, eating man’s flesh with him, when in a former existence he himself had been a Yakkha, caught sight of him and knowing that he had in a former existence been his friend he asked him, saying, “Do you not recognise me, friend” ‘TI do not,” he said. Then he told him about something they had done in a former state and the man-eater recognised him and gave him a kind greeting. When asked where he had been reborn, he told him of his place of birth and how he had been banished from his kingdom and where he was now living. He told him moreover how he was wounded by a splinter and that he was now going on an expedition to redeem his promise to the tree-nymph. ‘I must get over this difficulty of mine by your help: we will go together, my friend,” he said. “‘T cannot go, but there is one service I can render you. I certainly know a spell characterised by words of priceless value. It ensures strength, speed of foot, and an increase of prestige. Learn this spell.” He readily agreed to this, and the goblin gave it to him and went off. The man-eater got the spell by heart, and from that time became swift as the wind and very bold. Within seven days he found a hundred and one kings on their ways to parks and other places and leaped upon them with the swiftness of the wind, proclaiming his name, and by jumping about and shouting he greatly terrified them. Then he seized them by the feet and held them head downwards, and striking their heads with his heels carried them off with the swiftness of the wind. Next he drilled holes in the palms of their hands and hung them up by a cord on the banyan tree, and the wind striking them as they just touched the ground with the tips of their toes, they hung on the tree, revolving like withered wreaths of flowers in baskets. But he thought, “Sutasoma was my private teacher: let not India be altogether desolate,” and did not bring him. Being minded to make an offering to the tree he lighted a fire and sat down, sharpening a stake. The tree-nymph on seeing this thought, “He is preparing to offer sacrifice to me, but it was not I that healed his wound: he will now make a great slaughter. What is to be done? I shall not be able to stop him.” So she went and told the Four Great Kings of it and bade them stop him. When they said they could not do it, she approached Sakka and told him the whole story and asked him to stop him. He said, “I cannot do it, but I will tell you some one who can.” She said, “Who is that” “In the world of men and gods,” he answered, “there is no one else, but in the city of Indapatta in the Kuru kingdom is Sutasoma, prince of Kuru. He will tame and humble this man and will save the lives of these kings, and cure him of eating human flesh and will shower nectar over all India. If you are anxious to save the lives of the kings, bid him first bring Sutasoma and then offer his sacrifice to the tree.” “All right,” said the tree-spirit and went quickly, disguised as an ascetic, and approached close to the man-eater. At the sound of footsteps he thought, ‘Can one of the kings have escaped” Looking up and seeing him he thought, “Ascetics surely are kshatriyas. If I capture him, I shall make up the full number of one hundred and one kings and offer my sacrifice’.” He rose up and sword in hand pursued the ascetic, but though he chased him for three leagues he could not overtake him, and streams of sweat poured from his limbs, He thought, ‘I once could pursue and catch an elephant, or horse, or chariot going at full speed, but to-day though I am running with all my might I cannot catch this ascetic who is going just his natural pace. What can be the reason for this” Then thinking, “Ascetics are accustomed to obey: if I bid him stand and he does so, I shall catch him,” he cried, “Stand, holy sir.” “I am standing,” he answered, “do you too try and stand.” Then he said, “Ho there! ascetics even to save their life do not tell a lie, but you speak falsely,” and he repeated this stanza: