The Bargain, and the Three Suitors
A king, a corpse, and the first of twenty-five riddles.
Ten years of quiet gifts bind King Vikramaditya to a holy man's strange request, and he finds himself carrying a riddling spirit across a cremation ground. Its first tale: three men who each gave everything for the same woman, now returned from death. Which of them is her husband? You judge first, then the king does.
The Bargain
For ten years, the same holy man came to the court of Ujjain at dawn. Each morning he bowed to King Vikramaditya, placed a single fruit in the king's hand, and left without asking for anything. Vikramaditya heard a hundred petitions a day. A silent man who wanted nothing was easy to forget.
One morning the fruit slipped and rolled across the marble, and a pet monkey snatched it up and bit down. The fruit broke open. Where the seed should have been sat a jewel, deep red, worth more than most men earn in a lifetime.
The king sent for the others he had carelessly given away. Every fruit, ten years of them, had carried a gem inside.
When the holy man arrived the next dawn, Vikramaditya did not take the fruit. "You have handed me a fortune and asked for nothing," he said. "No one does that without a reason. Name what you want."
The holy man smiled. His name was Kshantishila. "A small thing, great king. On the coming night of the dark moon, come alone to the cremation ground beyond the river. There is a rite I cannot finish without a man who does not frighten. You are that man."
A king who accepts gifts cannot refuse the giver. Vikramaditya gave his word.
The Cremation Ground
The night of the dark moon was black and starless. The king found Kshantishila seated before a low fire at the edge of the burning ground, tracing shapes in the ash. The holy man did not look up.
"Far out among the pyres stands an old tree," he said. "A body hangs from its highest branch. Bring it to me, and my rite is complete. Go alone. Speak to no one on the way."
Vikramaditya walked out among the cold ashes and found the tree. High in its branches hung a shrouded corpse, turning slowly though there was no wind. The king climbed, cut the rope, and let the body fall. As it struck the ground it began to laugh, a dry and delighted laugh, and rose back into the branches of its own accord.