The Project Gutenberg eBook of The oldest story in the world
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The oldest story in the world
Author: Murray Leinster
Release date: July 18, 2026 [eBook #79128]
Language: English
Original publication: Indianapolis, IN: Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 1925
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79128
Credits: Greg Weeks and Mary Meehan
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLDEST STORY IN THE WORLD ***
The Oldest Story in the World
Murray Leinster
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Weird Tales, August, 1925.]
The man who told me this story said that it was the oldest story in the
world, and that it happened a hundred thousand years ago. But somehow,
I disbelieve him. He was very drunk and his eyes were a trifle too
bright and his hair was quite remarkably disheveled, so it is possible
that he was somewhat mixed in his statistics.
He came over to my table in the Jardin de Paris, which is a place in
the city of Rangoon some thousands of miles from the real Paris, and
as many leagues removed from anything Parisian. For one thing, the
stench of the Guleh-Wat is all too near, and it is a mingled odor of
incense and stale lotus and nipa blossoms and very, very unwashed
human beings who come there to worship. And then, too, one may look
out over the river and see the sandbars, with an occasional vulture
perched there, critically inspecting some especially unattractive
thing that has floated down with the current. And of course there are
snub-nosed British tramps, and very natty and not quite clean Japanese
cargo-boats, and pot-bellied Chinese junks, and the river craft of
Siam, who deserve an adjective all to themselves. The Jardin de Paris
is, moreover, some two continents removed from and a hundred years
behind anything French, and it is two shillings rickshaw fare from the
British legation.
He came over to my table and begged me not to finish the drink I had
before me, because the grenadine made it red. He told me that one could
have green drinks, made with absinthe, or white ones made with gin and
limes, or purple ones and yellow champagne, but that I should not drink
red drinks because they were like rubies and in consequence abominable
beyond the imagination of men. They had been cursed for a hundred
thousand years, he said, ever since the raja of Barowak laughed.
And therefore, if I would have a waiter take my red drink away, not
spilling any of it, being especially careful not to spill any of it, he
would buy me thousands of green or white or purple drinks, and he would
sit down beside me and tell me the oldest story in the world.
And naturally, I listened.
* * * * *
To get to Kosar in the old days (so the man with the disheveled hair
told me) one went by Bitab and Pulat through the Molanasian Pass,
which led to the country of the Sakai where it was necessary to travel
very, carefully because they used poisoned arrows and lay in wait for
strangers. And one would begin to hear tales of Kosar by the campfires
somewhere around Ghal, and the tales would become quite definite in
the bazars of Talt. There you would hear of the raja of Kosar, of his
falling-down palaces and his half-starved guard, of his two mangy
elephants and the exaggerated penury of the whole tiny kingdom--save
for the jewels he wore on occasions of state. And they were worth more
than the whole of his realm. They were rubies, and the largest was
as big as a man's closed fist, and the next were as large as a man's
thumb, and there were rubies of all sizes from thence on down to small,
glittering red stones no bigger than a grain of sand. Very precious
were the rubies, and very carefully guarded. It was death to come
within ten paces of the raja when he wore them, and no one save only
the raja and the ranee, his queen, knew where they were hid.
It was in Talt that a certain man came to believe that they actually
existed. He was a white man and had fled from the seacoast because
he had killed a man over a gambling game and feared the law of his
nation. He was in Talt, living with a dancing girl who was very proud
to belong to a white man, and in consequence gave him all her earnings.
He lived in her house because she loved him, and he felt safe from the
laws of his nation, and had no worry over the means of living so long
as her love continued. At ease, then, he spent much time in the bazars
learning to pass as a native of the country he lived in, in case he
needed disguise for farther flight. And in the bazars he heard tales
of Kosar, and of the rubies, and from the dancing girl he learned many
other strange things. In particular, he learned the language which is
spoken in Kosar and Barowak and the states between them. It is a cursed
language (so the man with the bright eyes told me) which wise men take
care to have no knowledge of. But the white man was not wise.
He had much knowledge of sorts it is not well for a white man to have,
however, and he had a plan which made him desire to have more. He knew,
for example, of the secret cult of Khayandra, the god of the elephant's
trunk, which is knowledge that only princes and ranees may possess. The
god Khayandra is one of the two gods of birth and causes male children
to be born, while Visayana causes females. The knowledge of this secret
is confined to princes, of course, because otherwise their people might
worship successfully and there would be only men-children born in their
domains and no women to bear yet other men.
The secrets of this cult seemed to promise much to the white man,
a hundred hundred centuries ago, and so he began to make his
preparations. To rid himself of the dancing girl he resorted to a drug,
and sold her to a merchant on his way to China. She had loved him, and
for months she had kept him in her house because of her love, but he
needed to be rid of her before he could go on to Jotun, and Halak, and
through the mountains to Kosar.
He journeyed in that direction for a matter of weeks with the mark of
Khayandra on his forehead, and that mark is something like a worm, and
something like an elephant's trunk, and two of them joined together
make a perfect circle.
He came to the city, then, and saw its walls falling, and men nearly
naked in the streets from poverty, and children fighting with dogs for
bits of food. Kosar was decayed from her ancient splendor, and vultures
perched upon her ruined ramparts, and grass grew in many abandoned
streets, and the palace of the raja was growing up with weeds save for
the small part that was still inhabited.
The white man reached Kosar on a day when the raja showed himself to
his people, and saw twenty horsemen upon stunted spindling steeds
driving away the people from a street that was lined with once
magnificent palaces that had belonged to the nobles when Kosar was a
mighty kingdom. And then there came possibly a hundred soldiers, ragged
and unkempt, straggling to make a show with faded finery. And then two
elephants, mangy and uncared for, with the raja on the second. All
else in the city and the kingdom was poor and mean and faded, even the
howdah of the raja's mount, but the jewels gleamed the more brightly
for the tawdriness of their surroundings.
They glittered like blood, they sparkled like flames, they were a
blaze of sheer magnificence upon a small, weary, dark-skinned man who
extracted some weak, vain satisfaction from the looks his people cast
upon those rubies. There were no guards near the raja, because it was
death to come within ten paces when he wore the jewels of state. And it
was possibly due to the lack of guards that a child, barely toddling,
escaped from its mother and advanced with curious steps toward the
ponderous bulk of the slow-moving elephant. The raja saw it coming
near. It was ten paces, seven, five, from his sacred personage.
He nodded negligently, and a spearman darted into the circle that was
about the jewels. The scream of the mother was very terrible....
* * * * *
The man with the disheveled hair, who was telling me this story in
the Jardin de Paris, in Rangoon, stopped suddenly. He looked across to
another table where a man I knew was taking a seat. A waiter was coming
with a glass in which was the counterpart of the drink I had discarded.
It is one part limes and one part gin and one part grenadine, with ice
and carbonated water, and it is very satisfying.
"He--he is going to drink the red drink!" cried the man with the
disheveled hair, in distress. "And the red drink is the color of
rubies!"
The man I knew caught my eye, and I beckoned him to come over. His name
was Gresham, and he was officially a superintendent of constabulary
under the Siamese government, but he was as British as it was possible
for a man to be, and I know that he made his reports in duplicate, one
copy of which went to his legation.
"Gresham," I said coaxingly, "won't you join us and have a drink? My
friend here is telling me about Kosar."
Gresham slipped into a seat and nodded brightly.
"I know Kosar," he said unexpectedly. "Had to go up there and argue
with the raja. Beastly tumbledown place. The raja was spearing people
that came within a certain sacred limit of his person. Silly stunt. Had
some amazin' rubies, though. You've been there?"
He was talking to the man with the disheveled hair, but that person
was looking fearfully at the waiter who had followed Gresham with his
drink. I explained gently to Gresham, and he sent the drink away. He
began to look very thoughtful, suddenly.
"You say you've been to Kosar?" he repeated slowly.
I interrupted, and told him that I was hearing the oldest story in
the world, which was a matter of some consequence to a man of my
profession. Other things could wait.
The man with the disheveled hair had lost the thread of his story by
this time, however, and I had to prompt him to get him back on the
track.
* * * * *
The white man prospered in Kosar. There were those who knew of the
meaning of the mark on his forehead, and they paid court to him because
he could dispense the favors of Khayandra. He had horses and slaves and
food waiting for him when he received a secret summons from the palace.
It was from the ranee, the wife of the raja, and she met the white man
with tears in her eyes and something of fear upon her countenance.
"You must pray to the god Khayandra," she told him, wringing her hands.
"You must implore the god to be merciful."
The white man knew what she had to say, because it had been a part of
his planning that she should say just this. But he feigned ignorance.
In his pretended character of a priest he asked, "What do you wish of
the god Khayandra, whose name not many know?"
And she told him. The raja was growing weary of her, and she loved him.
He had no son to carry on his name and was debating within himself the
purchase of other and younger wives. He would even sell one or more
of his rubies to secure young and fruitful girls of great beauty. The
ranee wept as she told the white man of this, thinking him a priest of
the god of births.
"The god will hear you," said the white man, pointing to the mark on
his forehead. "By this mark he will hear you,--if you make proper
sacrifice."
And she wept again, and told of her poverty, of the poverty of all the
whole realm where the raja's palaces fell to ruins for lack of revenues
to keep them in repair, while the raja clung close to his rubies, in
worth more than the whole kingdom.
"Those rubies," said the false priest of Khayandra, his eyes glittering
strangely; "show me those rubies. Let me touch the mark upon my
forehead with the greatest of all the rubies, and the god will grant
your prayer."
"But it is death to approach them," cried the ranee, again wringing her
hands, "save only for the raja himself."
Here the false priest turned away, and the ranee flung herself upon the
floor before him, pleading. And he was obdurate.
With a cloak flung about her and a single taper in her hand, she led
him down deep and dark damp passages, where molds grew upon the walls,
and where the air was heavy with the scents of decay. Once she crept
softly past a sleeping guard. Twice she pressed secret things and
seeming solid blocks of stone opened before them. Twice she shuddered
as she led the way within.
And then they came to a place where there was a moldy European carpet
upon the floor of a tiny, rock-walled room. And there were rickety
chairs there, and a table that was falling to pieces from the damp. And
in a chest, quite unlocked, she showed him the rubies.
They glowed and gleamed and glittered by the ray of the single taper.
The white man, disguised as a priest of Khayandra, caught his breath
as he looked at them. They were men's lives, and women's honors, and
war, and famine, and pillage. They were all luxuries, and all things
desirable, and they were things that caught at a man's heart and held
it fast, so that he coveted them fiercely and could not rest until he
possessed them.
"Here," said the ranee, catching her breath in a sob, "here is my
sacrifice to the god Khayandra. I have betrayed my lord through love of
him, that the god Khayandra may grant my prayer for his honor."
And the white man, in his strange robes of a hidden priesthood, threw
back his head and laughed.
"Come here, then," said he, "and I will show you proof of the god's
reward."
And she stood before him, hopeful that her prayer would be answered,
yet unhappy because she had betrayed a secret of her lord. And the
white man made a sudden movement, and a knife glinted momentarily in
the dim light of the taper. She did not cry out save once, but the
taper fell from her fingers and was extinguished. And then in the
darkness there was no sound save the suddenly stealthy movements of
the white man as he groped in the chest and hid things away in corners
of his robe, and in his head-dress. He was suddenly very much afraid,
because the rubies were his, now, and he was in a strange panic lest
other men hear of it and kill him for them.
He made his way back through the damp and moldy passages, feeling the
walls with his fingers. When he came to the place where there was a
guard, the man was stirring drowzily beside his light, and the white
man leaped upon him suddenly from behind.
He felt queerly secure, then, and wiped his knife carefully before he
made his way unseen out into the ruined streets of the fallen city of
Kosar.
* * * * *
My glass was empty, and I rapped on it as a signal for the waiter
to bring another drink. The man with the too-bright eyes and the
disheveled hair was leaning forward upon the table. His expression was
curious--that of one who sees incredible things. I began to suspect
that he had the horrors, but Gresham was listening intently. He yawned,
however, when the man stopped.
"Beastly unpleasant yarn, this," he remarked casually.
"Which happened." I commented skeptically, "a hundred thousand years
ago. And I still don't see why rubies are accurst."
"That was because the raja of Barowak laughed." The man with the
disheveled hair shivered uncontrollably, and his eyes, which were too
bright, began to look rather alarming. I was growing rather bored, and
it began to be apparent to me that the man only had the horrors.
Certainly there was no other reason why one dressed so carefully and
so well should have his hair in a tangled, matted mass on his head,
as if no comb had been through it in weeks or months. And I guessed
at the horrors because they are not infrequent in hot climates with
strong liquors, and they often make a man have queer aversions to some
small thing. I knew a man once, who would not cut his nails for a year
and a half and could do no work in consequence until he sold his nails
to a Chinaman who wanted to send evidence home that he had prospered.
But that, after all, has nothing to do with this. It was Gresham who
prodded on the stranger to the rest of his yarn.
"I know the raja of Barowak," he commented sympathetically. "He has an
odd sense of humor. Had some pigs, once, put in china jars--"
He laughed. The stranger shivered again. "It was a hundred thousand
years ago...."
The scents from the Guleh-Wat came over the wall as he went on, mingled
odors of incense and stale flowers and cooked food and particularly
unwashed humanity. A colossal temple bell clanged slowly, far over the
city. Sunset was upon us, and the big moths that flutter in the tropics
began to fly about, clumsily, because it was still light. The man with
the disheveled hair clutched firmly at his glass. It was full of a
green liquid.
* * * * *
The white man went swiftly away from Kosar (so he told us) only anxious
to get beyond the reach of the raja's half-starved guard. He was
very much afraid. He was terrified by his own shadow, and it seemed
to him that everyone who passed him must know of the jewels he had
hidden about his garments. He fled hurriedly through Raman and Khota
to Barowak. And constantly he became more and more afraid. In Raman
there were few who knew what the mark on his forehead meant. In Khota
there was none. He ceased to be regarded with profound respect, and he
considered that as a sign of suspicion.
When he saw the walls of the city of Barowak below him, he was in
terror. He ordered camp to be made, and the slaves who had been given
him in exchange for his prayers pitched his tent and watched over him
while he slept, or seemed to sleep. Actually, he was making a hiding
place beneath his bed for the jewels. He buried them deeply, and in the
morning he went on to the city of Barowak alone, leaving his slaves to
guard his tent. He was a clever man, the white one, and he knew that
they would never suspect that he had left about them a treasure more
precious than the kingdom of Kosar.
He went down into the city, and by means of his knowledge of the
languages they speak in Barowak he mingled in the crowds and listened
to the talk in the bazars. And he heard no word of Kosar save of the
rubies of the raja and his falling-down palaces, and the people hungry
while the raja wore jewels, in value greater than his whole domain
beside. And then a great contentment settled upon the white man. He
knew that no word of his most marvelous theft had preceded him through
the kingdoms. He became intoxicated with security, and knew that he had
only to travel onward to China where in a certain city there was a man
who would buy of him whatever he chose to sell, when he could go far
from the sea and build himself a secret palace with many dancing girls
and much wine and live in endless delight from thence onward.
He was a great man, and a wise man, so he felt, and it was already
time for him to begin the enjoyment of his treasure. He began to look
hungrily at the wines and sweetmeats, and to think obscure and evil
thoughts concerning the women he saw about him. He debated on the
purchase of dancing girls. He had been so long among dark races that he
had almost forgotten that he was a white man.
Surely it was not the thought of a white man that made him throw back
his head and laugh aloud in the bazar of Barowak. He had heard that the
ranee of Barowak was most beautiful of all women. And it was no more
than fitting that he who had taken the jewels of Kosar should likewise
take for himself the pearl of Barowak. His garb had been perfect for
the first of his purposes, and was no less adapted to the second.
He went and held a secret consultation with an old female slave of the
palace....
* * * * *
The mark on his forehead was a sign to make the doors of women open
to him, and to make women anxious to please him. He could grant or
withhold the favor of the god Khayandra, the mark told those who were
wise enough to understand it. And women desire that god's favor, and in
particular, the wives of rajas desire it.
She gave him cooling drinks with her own hands, and watched him
anxiously as he sat at ease beside a small marble pool, all ringed
about with marble, while a scented fountain played in the stillness.
She was desirous of making him well-disposed toward her, but she seemed
a little frightened, too.
"Why have you fear?" he asked, as she listened apprehensively to some
retreating footsteps.
"My lord knows not the worship of Khayandra," she told him. "But if I
may please the god in any way...."
The white man was drunk with his power, which lay hidden in the ground
among the hills that looked down on the city. His power was in small
red stones, the largest of which was the size of a man's fist, but
they glittered very wonderfully, and most men would have sold their
souls for one of the smallest of them. The white man, disguised as a
priest of Khayandra, thought of those stones glittering in the dark
damp earth, waiting for his coming, and the thought intoxicated him. He
looked upon the woman before him and found her pleasing. She was proud
of carriage, and small of foot, and graceful. And her lips were very,
very red, almost as red as the rubies the white man had stolen, and her
eyes were like other jewels he did not possess.
"The god Khayandra," he murmured, looking at her obliquely, "desires to
show you his favor. And I am his priest."
Had he been a wiser man, he would have seen that the light that came
upon her face was from a thought of another than him, but his own heart
was puffed up with pride, and full to bursting with vanity. And there
was much evil in his eyes, which blinded him. He did not see stealthy
figures creeping up behind him, nor read aright the sudden terror that
overcame her as he reached out his hand to touch her.
An arm crept about his throat and tightened. And a cold, wavy blade
pressed against his side, and then two men flung themselves upon his
feet before he could more than gasp from a sudden very terrible fear.
Then he saw small, monkeylike eunuchs fling themselves upon the ranee
Sahnya, and bind her fast. Then they grinned at him while one more
monkeylike than the rest squatted on his haunches and made signs to the
white man. The monkeylike man could not speak, because his tongue was
cut out,--which told with horrible clarity of tortures that were in
store for the false priest of Khayandra.
* * * * *
The white man had forgotten that though he might be very powerful,
because of certain red stones hidden in the damp earth, he had ventured
from pride and lust into the palace of the raja of Barowak, and that
the raja was jealous of his honor, besides being possessed of a
peculiar sense of humor. The white man went pale to his very liver,
from certain foreknowledge of what was to come to him. He had forgotten
the mark on his forehead.
One of the eunuchs vanished, bearing a message, and presently returned.
He made signs to the others, and the white man was lifted up and
carried for a long distance through gloomy corridors of stone, while
those who carried him giggled to themselves at what was to befall him.
He could only writhe. But the ranee Sahnya made no struggle.
They brought him at last to a little courtyard where there was a
fountain, and the raja of Barowak sitting on a divan, half asleep,
while a pallid, plump man with spectacles read to him from a book.
It was a curious book to be in such a place. It was printed in
English, and the _babu_ was reading from it with great unction, and then
translating what he had read into the accurst language which is spoken
in Barowak.
The raja of Barowak looked up sleepily when the white man was flung
down upon the stone floor.
"How did he find entrance?" he asked drowzily. "Slay those who let him
in."
And then he nodded again to the plump man with the spectacles, and he
went on with his reading. The raja listened only half-attentively.
Behind his sleepy eyes thoughts were moving slowly. After a long time
he smiled to himself.
"Stay. What is the name of that book?"
The _babu_ puffed out a little.
"It is the _History of the Spanish Inquisition_." He read the title in
English, and then translated.
The raja grinned like one who is very drowzy.
"And what was that other one, from which you read this morning?"
The _babu_ picked up a volume which was lettered: _Arthurian Legends_.
Truly those were strange books to be in such a place, but the white man
who lay bound there, waiting to learn in what fashion he was to die,
did not think of that. He was remembering tales he had heard concerning
the various unpleasant things a man may endure before death comes to
him. He had heard that with care an expert torturer could keep one
alive for four, even five days, in torment that would make hell a haven
of infinite repose by contrast.
The ranee still was silent. The raja looked at her without particular
malice, but rather as one who is meditating upon some jest.
"What is your excuse, O Sahnya?" he asked mildly. "Doubtless you love
the man."
"Nay, my lord. But he is a priest of the god Khayandra, and I had
supplication to make of his deity."
The raja said nothing whatever, but he looked very carefully at the
mark on the white man's forehead. The white man took courage and spoke
loudly, threatening the raja with the wrath of Khayandra. And the raja
smiled again, seemingly half asleep.
"But the priests of Khayandra," he murmured softly, "have that mark
indelibly upon their foreheads, and yours is running down your face
from the cold sweat of terror." He began to laugh suddenly. "O white
man, you have had your skin stained brown for many months, but the
nails have grown out from your fingers, and the base of your nails is
like the nails of the white men. This is a jest. I shall judge you by
the laws of the white men."
The white man would have groveled in the earth, then, but that he was
tied. The raja laughed, rocking his body back and forth.
"The raja Arthur, with his _tuans_, had many strange customs. There was
that notion of the ordeal. I shall put you two to the ordeal. One of
you shall live. And the other...."
The ranee spoke very softly, and very quietly. She was pleading for her
life, but she spoke very softly. The raja waved her aside.
"This white man's custom of chi--chi--." He looked at the _babu_, and
the _babu_ puffed out and said, "Chivalree, sar." The raje chuckled and
murmured, "Chivalree. It means that a man always dies for a woman. It
is very foolish. You two may decide which is to die, and which is to go
free."
The white man began to plead in an agony of pleading, struggling
with his fear-stiffened tongue until the froth welled from his lips,
begging, imploring the raja to slay the woman with many tortures, but
to let him go free.
But the woman merely said, "If he is a false priest, kill him."
The raja looked disappointed. He had perhaps looked for a comedy
wherein each would beg for the other's life. This matter convinced him
against his will that the woman was innocent, but he had no mind to
lose his jest.
"Then you may buy your freedom, or she may buy hers," he said, still
hopeful of diversion. "And the one who fails to pay the greater price
shall test out some of the things that are in this book."
He indicated the fatter of the two books, from which the _babu_ had been
reading.
"It is vairy instructive, sar," said the _babu_, lapsing into English in
his excitement. "This feeding a man powdered diamond, sar. He lingers
for months, with many peculiar pains, sar. I--I was jeweler's clerk in
Bombay, sar, an' I could fix--"
He began to rustle in the pages of the book and read excitedly, while
the raja listened drowzily. The rack was there described in detail, and
the torment of thumbscrews, and of the boot, and the other devices with
which the Inquisition had operated upon men's religious convictions.
He read on and on, his translations growing more and more enthusiastic
as he described the tortures that had been devised by holy men. He
was especially pleased by the device of clipping off the eyelids and
staking a man out in the sun.
But the raja merely drowzed, until presently he said suddenly:
"Let them name the prices they will pay for mercy."
And then there was silence for a long time, while the white man's soul
writhed. On the one hand, the prospect of staring with lidless scorched
eyes up at a pitiless tropic sun for days or weeks or months, with
other tortures yet to follow, the rack, and the boot, and flame, and
water dripping until death came. And on the other hand, the giving up
of his rubies, his priceless, precious rubies that glittered with a red
fire that was neither of land nor sea.
He gave an agonized cry at the thought, but terror drove him, and he
offered rubies for his life. The largest was the size of a man's fist
and those next in size as large as a man's thumb, and so on down to
tiny glittering stones no bigger than a grain of sand. He offered them
all, despairingly, for his life.
And the raja looked sleepily at the woman.
"And what is your price that you will pay for life?"
And she said just two words, which the white man did not hear.
Then the raja smiled very curiously, and bade his servants go and dig
up the rubies that the white man had described, and as he saw them
go, all the anguish and bitterness in the white man's heart turned to
venom against the woman whom he had coveted to this loss, and he made
a bargain with the raja that if the rubies were as he said, that he
should be able to ask one demand.
And he lay bound in the sunlight, full of an unspeakable anguish at the
loss of his rubies, until the men came back with his treasure.
The raja looked at them sleepily, and allowed the _babu_ to touch and
finger them. He made no move to examine them himself. But the white
man, seeing all his wealth passing forever from his hands cried out
horribly.
"My demand! I make my demand!"
And the raja gazed at him, drowzily.
"The life of that woman! Kill her with torments!"
The white man sank back upon the stone flooring and moaned with anguish
at the red stones going from him forever.
And then the _babu_ looked up and smiled very placidly and said, "These
are the rubies of the raja of Kosar, sar. I took them to him from
Bombay, sar, when I was jeweler's clerk. He was very poar an' could
make no display, so he had these jewels made for state occasions, sar,
an' they are made out of glass."
Through the stunned horror of the white man there came a curious sound.
It was the raja, laughing. He was laughing at the jest of a man trying
to buy his own life and the death of a woman with bits of colored glass
which were paste and not precious stones at all. He was particularly
amused at the white man's trying to buy the death of a woman who had
offered a very great price for her life. She had offered him a son,
concerning whom she had wished to make prayers to the god Khayandra.
It diverted the raja of Barowak to think of a man trying to exchange
trumpery bits of trash for so priceless a gift, and he was minded to
carry out the jest to its only fitting conclusion, with the aid of the
_Arthurian Legends_ and the _History of the Spanish Inquisition_. He gave
orders, laughing uncontrollably....
* * * * *
The man with the disheveled hair was staring, now, as if he saw
terrifying things. He drank of his green drink and shuddered. Gresham
was listening very intently, and perhaps for the first time in his life
did not notice that we were becoming a bit conspicuous. The voice of
the man with the disheveled hair had grown louder, toward the last.
* * * * *
The raja of Barowak gave orders, laughing, and men departed swiftly
north and south and east and west to scour the whole world for red
things. They brought red cloths and red woods and red stones and red
dyes. And they took whole rivers and made them red with the dyes that
they had brought. And then they took the white man and sat him in a red
chair, binding him very securely, and so that he could not move, nor
even open his jaws to scream. And then for a hundred years they left
him.
They did not touch him. They did not beat him. They did not harm him
in any smallest way, but from some spot far overhead a tiny drop of
red-tinted water fell down upon his head. Once every second it fell,
deliberately, inexorably, never late, never early, never varying by the
thousandth fraction of an inch from the one spot where it fell.
From taps the blows rose to hammer-blows and then to mighty, horrible
collisions that jarred his brain to its very foundations. The
inevitable monotony of it grew terrible, horrifying, of a sort to drive
away sanity. The white man began to make noises in his throat by the
end of the first year. By the hundredth year he was screaming through
forcibly closed lips.
Then they took him away, and he slept for a day. And then they took him
back for another hundred years, but he was forgotten, and they left
him for a thousand generations, while he screamed and screamed and the
water fell remorselessly, drop by drop, drop by drop, upon the one same
spot upon his skull.
And then he was released for a single day, while he knew that the raja
and all his descendants must have died and been forgotten, and hoped
that they had forgotten the cause of his doom, or the length of it. But
they put him back again and again, and yet again, until he knew that
he must wait patiently until all the armies of the world could find
no more red dye with which to tint the rivers, and the rivers had run
dry, and there was no more water in the earth. He sat on his reddened
throne and screamed endlessly because a tiny drop of water fell
drip ... drip... drip . . . upon a single tiny spot upon his skull.
And he stayed there for a hundred thousand years.
* * * * *
Night had fallen in the Jardin de Paris, in Rangoon, and the boats on
the river were no more than dark bulks from which many-colored lights
shone out serenely. The scents of the Guleh-Wat, over the wall, grew
thin. The incense became stale. The hibiscus and the nipa blossoms and
the lotus flowers took on a queer, sickly smell that was the odor of
premature decay. The night insects were fluttering about our heads with
an exaggerated energy.
Gresham coughed suddenly.
"Poor beggar," he said, not ungently. "I sh'd think that would drive a
man crazy. Fancy a drop of water on one tiny spot that you couldn't
vary! It 'ud make a man hysterical, I imagine."
The man with the disheveled hair turned too-bright eyes upon us.
"It lasted for a hundred thousand years," he said lucidly, "so,
naturally, he cursed rubies, because everything about him all that time
was the color of rubies and the water that fell was always tinted like
rubies. It looked like them as it fell, glittering....
"I wonder," I said, ruminating, "if it would have to fall on a special
part of a man's skull to drive him crazy. I've heard of it, of course."
The man with the disheveled hair told me that it would not. That it had
fallen all over the white man's head, but in each imprisonment only
upon the one spot. He told me accurately just where it fell each time,
but curiously, he did not raise his hand to his head to illustrate.
Gresham lighted a cigarette very thoughtfully. He had hardly paid
attention to the last of this talk.
He made a sudden impatient gesture.
"Look here, Leinster," he said abruptly to me, with an undercurrent of
meaning and perplexity in his voice. "I'm supposed to arrest a certain
chap. I'm in the constabulary, y'know, and you can guess why I ought to
arrest him. But--dash it all! What'd you do?"
The man with the disheveled hair was lying slumped back in his seat,
and he was staring with an infinite pleasure at the greenness of his
drink as it showed in the dim lights the Jardin de Paris provides.
"A hundred thousand years," he murmured, and shuddered. "Drip ...
drip ... drip..."
A waiter passed behind him and stumbled just a little. In stumbling, he
raised his arm to catch himself and a single drop of red liquid slopped
over the edge of the glass. It fell on the head of the man with the
disheveled hair.
And in an instant he had caught the arms of his chair in a frenzied
grasp and was sitting upright in a queerly rigid position, as if he
were tied there. His face was terrible to look upon and his eyes were
fixed. And he began to scream in a certain horrible monotony, as if he
had been screaming for a hundred thousand years.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLDEST STORY IN THE WORLD ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg
Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
