Wonder Tales from Tibet

by Eleanore Myers Jewett

THE SECRET OF THE KHAN’S BARBER

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived in the East a mighty Khan. He had broad, fertile lands to rule over and many thousands of faithful subjects, but though he governed wisely and well, the country was filled with discontent, and for a very good reason. Never did the Khan permit himself to be seen by his people, and he even obliged his courtiers and advisers to address him from behind tapestries and never allowed any of them to look upon his face. And this was not the worst, by any means. Every once in so often a youth was chosen from among the people, and was taken to the palace, where he was dressed in gorgeous attire, and then led into the presence of the Khan. There he [[98]]was bidden to act as barber and cut the monarch’s hair, and after he had done so he invariably disappeared and was never seen or heard of again. Of course, it was easy to guess that he had been put to death. Needless to say, the fathers and mothers of young men lived in constant dread and hated the Khan with their whole hearts, yet they had no power to withstand his orders.

Now it happened one day that the Khan’s messenger stopped at the house of a widow who had only one child,—a fine, handsome lad whom she loved better than life itself. It had fallen to the lot of this youth, Daibang by name, to be the Khan’s barber on the following day; but when the widow heard the news, instead of vainly weeping and complaining as others had done, she went at once to her kitchen, for she had devised a plan whereby her son might yet be saved. With great care she baked some little cakes of rice flour and [[99]]milk, very light and fine and tempting to look upon, and into them she kneaded the great love that filled her heart for her son. Then calling him to her, she said:

“Daibang, on the morrow you must go to the palace to cut the Khan’s hair, and after that, what fate may befall you we may not know, but we can very well guess. Then do exactly as I bid you, and my heart tells me you will escape the hard lot that has come to so many others. Take with you these cakes which I have baked for you with loving care, and while you are performing your duty to the Khan, manage to eat one of them so that he will see you do it. He will then ask to taste one himself, and when he has eaten of it he will wish to know what it is made of. Tell him that your mother made these cakes, of rice flour and milk, and that she kneaded into them her love and prayers for you. After that I think he will not find it in his heart to take your life.”

Daibang accepted the cakes gratefully [[100]]and kissed his mother, and when the time came for him to go to the palace, he set forth with a light heart and high courage. Having arrived there, he was taken at once by servants and clad in rich clothing, then led into the presence of the Khan. With comb and scissors of pure gold, he dressed and cut the monarch’s hair, and as he looked at him, he learned the Khan’s secret and why it was that he allowed no one to look upon him and live; and Daibang’s mind was filled with wonder. Nevertheless, he did not forget his mother’s commands and managed to eat one of her cakes while he was combing the royal hair.

“What are you eating?” asked the Khan, and Daibang spread out his mother’s cakes before him. They looked extremely good, and the monarch at once demanded one to eat. They tasted even better than they looked, and all the rest of the time Daibang was working over him [[101]]the great Khan sat munching the cakes with evident enjoyment.

“Good youth,” said he, at length, “tell me what these are made of, for I must have my royal cook learn the art and bake me such goodly cakes daily. Never have I tasted anything better.”

“Sire,” replied Daibang, “these are very simple cakes; they are made of rice flour and milk—my mother baked them and kneaded into them her love and prayers for me, her only child.”

After that the Khan remained silent for a long time. When at last Daibang had finished his work and begged leave to retire, the Khan turned and, looking steadfastly at him, said:

“Young man, the love that your mother kneaded into those cakes has entered my very soul, and I cannot bring myself to give the order for your execution, as I have done these many times with lads like you. Nevertheless, you have learned my secret, and for that reason you should die, for I [[102]]trust no man on earth, nor any woman either, to keep a secret entirely locked up in his own mind.”