After a reign of twenty-eight years, King Kalathoka died, leaving nine sons, the eldest of whom was named Baddasena. They all reigned one after the other through a period of thirty-three years. The last of them, Pitzamuka, was the youngest. During his reign a gang of robbers desolated the country of Magatha. On a certain day a man named Ouggasena, having fallen in with that gang, inquired of them what pursuit they followed in order to obtain their livelihood. They plainly told him that they knew nothing about the tillage of the fields, and were unacquainted with the business of trade; they had no other way left for maintaining themselves but to seize by force whatever they chanced to meet. Ouggasena, taken up with the boldness of these desperadoes, offered to join their company with his eight brothers. The offer was gladly accepted. It happened afterwards that in one of their depredatory expeditions their chief was slain. Ouggasena was appointed by common consent to take his place. Being of a bold and lofty daring, he said to his associates: “Friends, it does not suit brave and enterprising men as you are to confine your attacks to petty villages and small towns: you ought to aim higher.” He then represented to them in forcible language that King Pitzamuka was deficient in courage, and neglected entirely the duties of a king. “The moment is favourable,” added he, “to attack Pataliputra itself.” His opinion was universally accepted. The king, fonder of pleasure than of business, offered little resistance. He was killed at the taking of his capital, and Ouggasena sat on the throne, under the name of Ouggasena-nanda.
He was succeeded by his eight brothers. They reigned successively during the short period of twenty-two years. The last of them was called Dzananda. These princes were not followers of Buddha, but they supported the party of the pounhas, to which they adhered. Their generosity towards the pounhas was very great. They fed daily a great number of them in their own palace.
Among the pounhas who were maintained by the king’s liberality, there was one named Dzanecka, who was much versed in the science of astrology. Being once in the country, he saw in himself certain signs indicating that one day he would become a king. Having communicated this intelligence to his mother, she wisely advised him to ignore such dangerous signs, which would inevitably bring the king’s anger upon him, and expose him to great perils. Dzanecka was wise enough to comply with his mother’s wishes.
On a certain day Dzanecka returned to Pataliputra, from the country place where his mother lived. On his arrival, he, in company with his brethren, went to the palace to receive alms, that were to be distributed in the king’s presence in a large hall, fitted for that special purpose. He occupied the foremost rank. The king, who saw him, could not help remarking something extraordinary in his person. Suspicions arose in his bosom respecting the fidelity of that pounha. He instantly felt angry with him. Unable to control his passions, he ordered one of his officers to turn him out of the palace without giving him anything. The pounha had but to obey the unwelcome summons. Stung to the quick by shame and rage, he rose from his place. When he was just crossing the threshold of the hall’s entrance, he took off his caste’s string, and cut it in pieces; he likewise broke his mendicant’s pot, and flung all against one post of the door of the hall, uttering at the same time imprecations, and praying that the king might never from that day enjoy rest. He ran away as far as he could, and under a disguise he eluded the pursuit of those that had been sent to arrest him. He escaped into Tekkaso. There he plotted the destruction of the king.
In one of his rambles through the country, Dzanecka met by chance a child, whom he knew to belong to a royal race. He at once adopted him, and brought him up with the greatest care and attention. It was not long, however, ere he found out that the signs prognosticating promotion to royalty were rather doubtful and somewhat insufficient. He could not rely on him for the execution of the important and long-cherished design he had in his heart. He had now to look out for some other one, who could afford him a greater subject for hope and confidence. Chance soon served him admirably well, to the utmost of his wishes.
After the destruction of Wethalie by Adzatathat, the princes that had escaped from the massacre had fled in an eastern direction, and built a city called Maurya. New misfortunes having befallen them, they were obliged to search for safety in precipitate flight. One of the wives of those princes, being in the family way, was led to the city of Pouppaya. Having been delivered of a son, she had the barbarity to order the little creature to be put into a jar, which was cast in a neighbouring cow-pen. The Nats watched over the child, and the bull of the herd, stationing itself near the infant, kept, with his horns and feet, at a distance any animal that came near. The cow-keeper, observing what was taking place, took the child and gave it to his wife Tsanda to bring him up as if he were their own child. He was called from the name of his adopted parents, Tsanda-gutta.
When the lad had come to the age to play the cowherd, he assumed among his fellow-herdsmen all the ways and manners and deportment of a king. He appointed some of them his ministers; others were invested with other mock dignities. He would sit on a tribunal, decide small cases, and strictly enforce the execution of his sentences.
The Pounha Dzanecka, who was living in the neighbourhood, hearing all this, wished to see the extraordinary boy. He recognised at a glance in the lad the sure signs foreshadowing his coming greatness. He purchased him for the sum of one thousand pieces of silver, and brought him up along with his other adopted son. Each of the boys had a splendid necklace of gold. On a certain day, Dzanecka ordered Pouppata, for such was the name of the first adopted son, to take a sword and go to Tsanda-gutta whilst asleep, and take from him his necklace of gold, without, however, cutting the thread, or even unloosing it. Pouppata, agreeably to his father’s order, went near the place where his brother was sleeping. He stood over him, and examined attentively by what means he could execute his father’s order. After many fruitless combinations, finding it impossible to do so, he went back to his father and related his disappointment. Dzanecka, without addressing him a word of blame, remained silent.