In a
great and beautiful city that stood by the sea, an old man lay dying. Mar
Shalmon was his name, and he was the richest man in the land. Propped up with
pillows on a richly decorated bed in a luxurious chamber, he gazed, with tears
in his eyes, through the open window at the setting sun. Like a ball of fire it
sank lower and lower until it almost seemed to rest on the tranquil waters
beyond the harbour. Suddenly, Mar Shalmon roused himself.
"Where
is my son, Bar Shalmon?" he asked in a feeble voice, and his hand crept
tremblingly along the silken coverlet of the bed as if in search of something.
"I
am here, my father," replied his son who was standing by the side of his
bed. His eyes were moist with tears, but his voice was steady.
"My
son," said the old man, slowly, and with some difficulty, "I am about
to leave this world.
My soul
will take flight from this frail body when the sun has sunk behind the horizon.
I have lived long and have amassed great wealth which will soon be thine. Use
it well, as I have taught thee, for thou, my son, art a man of learning, as
befits our noble Jewish faith. One thing I must ask thee to promise me."
"I
will, my father," returned Bar Shalmon, sobbing.
"Nay,
weep not, my son," said the old man. "My day is ended; my life has
not been ill-spent. I would spare thee the pain that was mine in my early days,
when, as a merchant, I garnered my fortune. The sea out there that will soon
swallow up the sun is calm now. But beware of it, my son, for it is
treacherous. Promise me--nay, swear unto me--that never wilt thou cross it to
foreign lands."
Bar
Shalmon placed his hands on those of his father.
"Solemnly
I swear," he said, in a broken voice, "to do thy wish--never to
journey on the sea, but to remain here in this, my native land. ’Tis a vow
before thee, my father."
"’Tis
an oath before heaven," said the old man. "Guard it, keep it, and
heaven will bless thee. Remember! See, the sun is sinking."
Mar
Shalmon fell back upon his pillows and spoke no more. Bar Shalmon stood gazing
out of the window until the sun had disappeared, and then, silently sobbing, he
left the chamber of death.
The whole
city wept when the sad news was made known, for Mar Shalmon was a man of great
charity, and almost all the inhabitants followed the remains to the grave. Then
Bar Shalmon, his son, took his father's place of honour in the city, and in
him, too, the poor and needy found a friend whose purse was ever open and whose
counsel was ever wisdom.
Thus
years passed away.
One day
there arrived in the harbour of the city a strange ship from a distant land.
Its captain spoke a tongue unknown, and Bar Shalmon, being a man of profound
knowledge, was sent for. He alone in the city could under-stand the language of
the captain. To his astonishment, he learned that the cargo of the vessel was
for Mar Shalmon, his father.
"I
am the son of Mar Shalmon," he said. "My father is dead, and all his
possessions he left to me."
"Then,
verily, art thou the most fortunate mortal, and the richest, on earth,"
answered the captain. "My good ship is filled with a vast store of jewels,
precious stones and other treasures. And know you, O most favoured son of Mar
Shalmon, this cargo is but a small portion of the wealth that is thine in a
land across the sea."
"’Tis
strange," said Bar Shalmon, in surprise; "my father said nought of
this to me. I knew that in his younger days he had traded with distant lands,
but nothing did he ever say of possessions there. And, moreover, he warned me
never to leave this shore."
The
captain looked perplexed.
"I
understand it not," he said. "I am but performing my father's
bidding. He was thy father's servant, and long years did he wait for Mar
Shalmon's return to claim his riches. On his death-bed he bade me vow that I
would seek his master, or his son, and this have I done."
He
produced documents, and there could be no doubt that the vast wealth mentioned
in them belonged now to Bar Shalmon.
"Thou
art now my master," said the captain, "and must return with me to the
land across the sea to claim thine inheritance. In another year it will be too
late, for by the laws of the country it will be forfeit."
"I
cannot return with thee," said Bar Shalmon. "I have a vow before
heaven never to voyage on the sea."
The
captain laughed.
"In
very truth, I understand thee not, as my father understood not thine," he
replied. "My father was wont to say that Mar Shalmon was strange and
peradventure not possessed of all his senses to neglect his store of wealth and
treasure."
With an
angry gesture Bar Shalmon stopped the captain, but he was sorely troubled. He
re-called now that his father had often spoken mysteriously of foreign lands,
and he wondered, indeed, whether Mar Shalmon could have been in his proper
senses not to have breathed a word of his riches abroad. For days he discussed
the matter with the captain, who at last persuaded him to make the journey.
"Fear
not thy vow," said the captain. "Thy worthy father must, of a truth,
have been bereft of reason in failing to tell thee of his full estate, and an
oath to a man of mind unsound is not binding. That is the law in our
land."
"So
it is here," returned Bar Shalmon, and with this remark his last scruple
vanished.
He bade a
tender farewell to his wife, his child, and his friends, and set sail on the
strange ship to the land beyond the sea.
For three
days all went well, but on the fourth the ship was becalmed and the sails
flapped lazily against the masts. The sailors had nothing to do but lie on deck
and wait for a breeze, and Bar Shalmon took advantage of the occasion to treat
them to a feast.
Suddenly,
in the midst of the feasting, they felt the ship begin to move. There was no
wind, but the vessel sped along very swiftly. The captain himself rushed to the
helm. To his alarm he found the vessel beyond control.
"The
ship is bewitched," he exclaimed. "There is no wind, and no current,
and yet we are being borne along as if driven before a storm. We shall be
lost."
Panic
seized the sailors, and Bar Shalmon was unable to pacify them.
"Someone
on board has brought us ill-luck," said the boatswain, looking pointedly
at Bar Shalmon; "we shall have to heave him over-board."
His
comrades assented and rushed toward Bar Shalmon.
Just at
that moment, however, the look-out in the bow cried excitedly, "Land
ahead!"
The ship
still refused to answer the helm and grounded on a sandbank. She shivered from
stem to stern but did not break up. No rocks were visible, only a desolate
tract of desert land was to be seen, with here and there a solitary tree.
"We
seem to have sustained no damage," said the captain, when he had recovered
from his first astonishment, "but how we are going to get afloat again I
do not know. This land is quite strange to me."
He could
not find it marked on any of his charts or maps, and the sailors stood looking
gloomily at the mysterious shore.
"Had
we not better explore the land?" said Bar Shalmon.
"No, no," exclaimed the boatswain,
excitedly. "See, no breakers strike on the shore. This is not a
human land. This is a domain of demons. We
are lost unless we cast overboard the one who has brought on us this
ill-luck."
Said Bar
Shalmon, "I will land, and I will give fifty silver crowns to all who land
with me."
Not one
of the sailors moved, however, even when he offered fifty golden crowns, and at
last Bar Shalmon said he would land alone, although the captain strongly urged
him not to do so.
Bar
Shalmon sprang lightly to the shore, and as he did so the ship shook violently.
"What
did I tell you?" shouted the boat-swain. "Bar Shalmon is the one who
has brought us this misfortune. Now we shall re-float the ship."
But it
still remained firmly fixed on the sand. Bar Shalmon walked towards a tree and
climbed it. In a few moments he returned, holding a twig in his hand.
"The
land stretches away for miles just as you see it here," he called to the
captain. "There is no sign of man or habitation."
He
prepared to board the vessel again, but the sailors would not allow him. The
boatswain stood in the bow and threatened him with a sword. Bar Shalmon raised
the twig to ward off the blow and struck the ship which shivered from stem to
stern again.
"Is
not this proof that the vessel is bewitched?" cried the sailors, and when
the captain sternly bade them remember that Bar Shalmon was their master, they
threatened him too.
Bar
Shalmon, amused at the fears of the men, again struck the vessel with the twig.
Once more it trembled. A third time he raised the twig.
"If
the ship is bewitched," he said, "something will happen after the
third blow."
"Swish"
sounded the branch through the air, and the third blow fell on the vessel's
bow. Something did happen. The ship almost leaped from the sand, and before Bar
Shalmon could realize what had happened it was speeding swiftly away.
"Come
back, come back," he screamed, and he could see the captain struggling
with the helm. But the vessel refused to answer, and Bar Shalmon saw it grow
smaller and smaller and finally disappear. He was alone on an uninhabited
desert land.
"What
a wretched plight for the richest man in the world," he said to himself,
and the next moment he realized that he was in danger indeed.
A
terrible roar made him look around. To his horror he saw a lion making toward
him. As quick as a flash Bar Shalmon ran to the tree and hastily scrambled into
the branches. The lion dashed itself furiously against the trunk of the tree,
but, for the present, Bar Shalmon was safe. Night, however, was coming on, and
the lion squatted at the foot of the tree, evidently intending to wait for him.
All night the lion remained, roaring at intervals, and Bar Shalmon clung to one
of the upper branches afraid to sleep lest he should fall off and be devoured.
When morning broke, a new danger threatened him. A huge eagle flew round the
tree and darted at him with its cruel beak. Then the great bird settled on the
thickest branch, and Bar Shalmon moved stealthily forward with a knife which he
drew from his belt. He crept behind the bird, but as he approached it spread
its big wings, and Bar Shalmon, to prevent himself being swept from the tree,
dropped the knife and clutched at the bird's feathers. Immediately, to his
dismay, the bird rose from the tree. Bar Shalmon clung to its back with all his
might.
Higher
and higher soared the eagle until the trees below looked like mere dots on the
land. Swiftly flew the eagle over miles and miles of desert until Bar Shalmon
began to feel giddy. He was faint with hunger and feared that he would not be
able to retain his hold. All day the bird flew without resting, across island
and sea. No houses, no ships, no human beings could be seen. Toward night,
however, Bar Shalmon, to his great joy, beheld the lights of a city surrounded
by trees, and as the eagle came near, he made a bold dive to the earth.
Headlong he plunged downward. He seemed to be hours in falling. At last he
struck a tree. The branches broke beneath the weight and force of his falling
body, and he continued to plunge downward. The branches tore his clothes to
shreds and bruised his body, but they broke his terrible fall, and when at last
he reached the ground he was not much hurt.
-------------------------
From: JEWISH FAIRY
TALES AND LEGENDS
ISBN: 978-1-907256-14-1
A percentage of the
profits will be donated to the CHRISTCHURCH EARTHQUAKE APPEAL.
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