On receiving this order the Rajput went to obey it; and the king, unseen by him, and attired in a black dress, followed for the purpose of observing his courage.
Presently Birbal arrived at the cemetery. And what sees he there? A beautiful woman of a light yellow colour, loaded with jewels from head to foot, holding a horn in her right and a necklace in her left hand. Sometimes she danced, sometimes she jumped, and sometimes she ran about. There was not a tear in her eye, but, beating her head and making lamentable cries, she kept dashing herself on the ground.
Seeing her condition, and not recognising the goddess born of sea foam, and whom all the host of heaven loved,[85] Birbal inquired, ‘Why art thou thus beating thyself and crying out? Who art thou? And what grief is upon thee?’
‘I am the Royal-Luck,’ she replied.
‘For what reason,’ asked Birbal, ‘art thou weeping?’
The goddess then began to relate her position to the Rajput. She said, with tears, ‘In the king’s palace Shudra (or low caste acts) are done, and hence misfortune will certainly fall upon it, and I shall forsake it. After a month has passed the king, having endured excessive affliction, will die. In grief for this I weep. I have brought much happiness to the king’s house, and hence I am full of regret that this my prediction cannot in any way prove untrue.’
‘Is there,’ asked Birbal, ‘any remedy for this trouble, so that the king may be preserved and live a hundred years?’
‘Yes,’ said the goddess, ‘there is. About eight miles to the east thou wilt find a temple dedicated to my terrible sister Devi. Offer to her thy son’s head, cut off with thine own hand, and the reign of thy king shall endure for an age.’ So saying Raj-Lakshmi disappeared.
Birbal answered not a word, but with hurried steps he turned towards his home. The king, still in black so as not to be seen, followed him closely, and observed and listened to everything he did.