XL
In the Grove of Krishna
After that first evening I neglected no opportunity of visiting the Krishna grove, and of becoming more deeply initiated into the doctrine, by the words of the Master or of one of his great scholars.
During the absence of my husband, the fear of the citizens of Kosambi because of the robber Angulimala grew from day to day. For the very reason that nothing was heard of fresh deeds of his, fantasy was stirred. Suddenly a report was spread that Angulimala intended to fall upon the Krishna grove one evening and carry off the citizens assembled there, and not only these, but even the Buddha himself. That raised the already excited popular feeling almost to the point of tumult. People declared that if evil should come to the Master from villainous robber hands at the gates of Kosambi, then the anger of the gods would be visited on the whole town.
Enormous crowds of people swept through the streets, and, collecting in front of the royal palace, demanded threateningly that King Udena should avert this calamity and render Angulimala incapable of further mischief.
On the following day Satagira returned.
He at once overwhelmed me with praise for my good advice, to which alone he was disposed to attribute his having come safely home. Vajira, his second wife, who, with her little son on her arm, appeared to welcome him, was dealt with very summarily: “he had matters of importance to talk over with me.”
When we were again alone, he forthwith began, to my unspeakable discomfort, to talk of his love, of how he had missed me on the way, and with what joy he had looked forward to this hour of reunion.
I was on the point of telling him about the troubles in the town, in order to change the current of his thoughts, when the servants announced the chamberlain, who had come to summon Satagira to the king.
After about an hour he returned—another being. Pale, and with perturbed countenance, he came in to me, flung himself down on a low seat, and exclaimed that he was the most wretched man in the whole kingdom, a fallen great one, soon to be a beggar, mayhap even exposed to imprisonment or exile, and that the cause of all his misfortune was his boundless love for me, which I didn’t even return. After I had repeatedly urged him to tell me what had happened, he calmed himself sufficiently to give me an account of what had taken place in the palace, accompanying the recital by many outbursts of despair, all the while ceaselessly mopping his forehead, from which the sweat-drops ran trickling down.
The king had received him very ungraciously, and, without desiring to hear anything of the village quarrel which he had settled, had ordered him, with threats, to acknowledge the whole truth about Angulimala, which Satagira was now obliged to confess to me also, without having the smallest idea that I was already so well informed on the subject. For the rest, he only saw in it a proof of his “boundless love” for me, and spoke of my love for thee lightly, as of a foolish youthful sentimentality which would, in any case, have assuredly led to nothing.
The matter had come to the king’s ears in the following way.
During Satagira’s absence, the police had succeeded in tracking down Angulimala’s accomplice, who had, in the course of a severe examination, given the assurance that the robber in question was really Angulimala himself, that the latter did not die under torture at that former time, as the Minister had always asserted, but had escaped; he had also confessed Angulimala’s intended attack on the Krishna grove. His majesty was naturally incensed in the last degree, first at Satagira’s having allowed the execrable robber to escape, and then at his having cheated the whole of Kosambi and its king with the false head he had set up. He wouldn’t listen to any words of defence, or even of excuse. If Satagira didn’t within three days render Angulimala incapable of further mischief—as the people so stormily demanded—then all the consequences of the royal displeasure would be visited upon him with the utmost rigour.
After Satagira had related the whole tale, he threw himself weeping upon the seat, tore his hair, and behaved like one distraught.
“Be comforted, my husband,” I said. “Follow my counsel, and not in three days, but before this day is over, thou shalt again be in possession of the royal favour; yes, and not only so, but it shall shine upon thee even more brightly than before.”
Satagira sat up and looked at me as one might gaze upon some strange natural phenomenon.
“And what, then, is this counsel of thine?”
“Return to the king and persuade him to betake himself to the Sinsapa wood beyond the city gates. There let him seek the Lord Buddha at the ancient temple, and ask counsel from him. The rest will follow of itself.”
“Thou art a wise woman,” said Satagira. “In any case, thy counsel is very good, for that Buddha is said to be the wisest of all men. Although it can hardly have such good results for me as thou dost imagine, I shall nevertheless make the attempt.”
“For the results,” I replied, “I shall answer with my honour.”
“I believe thee, Vasitthi!” he exclaimed, springing up and seizing my hand. “How were it possible not to believe thee? By Indra! thou art a wonderful woman; and I now see how little I was mistaken when, in my yet inexperienced youth, as though obeying some instinct, I chose thee alone from amid the rich bevy of Kosambi’s maidens, and did not suffer myself to be diverted from my love by thy coldness.”
The heat with which he poured forth his praise caused me almost to repent that I had given him such helpful counsel; but his very next words brought relief with them, for he now spoke of his gratitude, which would be exhaustless, no matter to what proof I should put it.
“I have but a single petition to make, the granting of which will testify sufficiently to thy gratitude.”
“Name it to me at once,” he cried, “and if thou dost even demand that I should send Vajira with her son back to her parents I shall, without hesitation, do thy will.”
“My request is a just, no unjust, one. I shall only prefer it, however, when my counsel has proved itself in the fullest degree to be reliable. But hurry now to the palace and win his majesty over to pay this visit.”
He returned fairly soon, delighted that he had succeeded in prevailing upon the king to undertake the expedition.
“Not until Udena heard that the counsel came from thee, and that thou hadst vouched for its success with thine honour, did he consent; for he also thinks great things of thee. Oh, how proud am I of such a wife!”
These and similar speeches, of which in his confident mood there was no lack, were painful enough to me, and would have been more painful still if I had not, throughout the whole matter, had my own secret thoughts to buoy me up.
We betook ourselves at once to the palace, where already preparations were being made for the start.
As soon as the sun’s rays had somewhat modified their intensity, King Udena mounted his state elephant, the celebrated Bhaddavatika, which, because she was now very old, was only used on the gravest occasions. We, the chamberlain, the lord of the treasury, and other high dignitaries came after in wagons; two hundred horsemen opening, and the same number bringing up the rear of, the procession.
At the entrance to the wood, the king caused Bhaddavatika to kneel down, and himself dismounted; the others of us left the wagons and betook ourselves in his train, on foot, to the Krishna temple, where the Buddha, who had already been informed of the approaching royal visit, awaited us, surrounded by his disciples.
The king gave the Master a reverential greeting, and, stepping to one side, seated himself. And when we others had also taken our seats, the Perfect One asked—
“What troubles thee, O noble king? Has the King of Benares perhaps, or one of the others of thy royal neighbours, threatened thy land with war?”
“The King of Benares does not, O Reverend One, nor does any one of my royal neighbours threaten me. A robber, sir, lives in my land, named Angulimala, cruel and bloodthirsty, given to murder and deadly assault, without mercy on man or beast. He makes the villages uninhabitable; the towns, heaps of smoking ruins; the lands, desert wastes. He slays people and hangs their thumbs about his neck. And in the wickedness of his heart he has conceived the plan of falling upon this sacred grove and of carrying thee off, O Master, thee and thy disciples. Beside themselves at the thought of this great danger, my people murmur openly, throng in great crowds around my palace, and demand that I should make this Angulimala incapable of further mischief. That only have I in mind in coming to thee.”
“But if thou, noble king, shouldst see Angulimala, with shorn hair and beard, clad in the yellow robe, inimical to murder, weaned from robbery, content with one meal, chaste in his walk, virtuous, and altogether noble, what wouldst thou then do with him?”
“We would, O Reverend One, greet him respectfully, rise in his presence and invite him to be seated, would beg him to accept clothing, food, bed, and medicine for possible sickness, and would bestow upon him, as is fitting, protection, shelter, and defence. But how should, O Master, such a troublesome and malignant fellow experience such a virtuous change?”
Now the dread Angulimala was sitting not far from the Master. And the Master raised his right hand and pointed, saying to King Udena as he did so—
“This, noble prince, is Angulimala.”
At that, the face of the king grew pale from fear.
But greater by far was the horror on the face of Satagira. His eyes looked as though they would start from their sockets, his hair stood on end, cold sweat dropped from his forehead.
“Woe is me!” he called out. “Yes, that is certainly Angulimala, and I, wretched man, have betrayed my king into putting himself in his power.”
At the same time I could see plainly that he only quivered so with fear because he imagined himself to be in the power of his deadly enemy.
“This horrible fellow,” he went on, “has deceived us all—has cheated the Master himself and also my all-too-credulous wife, who, like all women, lays much store by such tales of conversion. So we have all walked into the trap.”
And his glances wandered hither and thither, as though he descried half a dozen robbers behind every tree. With stuttering voice and trembling hand he adjured the king to seek safety for his precious person in immediate flight.
Then I stepped forward and spoke—
“Calm thyself, my husband! I am in a position to convince thee, as also my noble sovereign, that here no trap has been laid, and that no danger threatens.”
And I now related how, talked over by Angulimala, I had, together with him, projected an attack on the life of my husband, and how our plan was frustrated by that very conversion of my ally.
When Satagira heard how near he had been to death, he was obliged to support himself on the arm of the chamberlain, in order not to sink to earth.
I prostrated myself before the king, and begged him to pardon my husband as I had pardoned him, saying that, led away by passion, he had sinned, and in the whole matter had assuredly, though all unconsciously, followed the leading of a higher power that intended to bring to pass before our eyes the greatest of all wonders, so that now, instead of a robber having to be executed, the robber had become a saint.
And when the king had graciously consented to bestow his undiminished favour upon my husband, I said to Satagira—
“I have now kept my promise. Keep thou therefore thine also, and fulfil my request, which is, that I may be permitted to enter the Sacred Order of the Buddha.”
With a mute inclination of the head, Satagira gave his consent. He, of course, could do no other.
But the king, who was now quite reassured, now approached Angulimala, spoke kindly and deferentially to him, and gave him the assurance of his royal protection.
Then he went again to the Buddha, bowed low before him, and said—
“Wondrous indeed it is, O Reverend One, how thou, the Master, dost tame the untamable. For this Angulimala, whom we could not overcome by either punishment or sword, him thou, O Master, hast overcome without either punishment or sword. And this thrice-sacred grove where such a wonderful thing has transpired shall from this day forth to the end of time belong to the Order of the Holy. Furthermore, I trust the Master will graciously suffer me to erect within its bounds a building for the shelter of the monks, and a second one for that of the nuns.”
With a dignified expression of thanks, the Master accepted the royal gift. Then the king took his leave, and went away with his retinue. I, however, remained behind under the protection of the sisters who were present, and the very next day took the vows.