Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into the chaplain’s family, and on his father’s death succeeded to the chaplaincy.

The king promised to grant whatever boon his queen should ask him, and she said, “The boon I ask is an easy one; you must not look on any other woman with eyes of love.” At first he refused, but, wearied by her unceasing importunity, was obliged to give way at last. And from that day onwards he never cast a glance of love at any one of his sixteen thousand wives.

Now a disturbance arose on the borders of his kingdom, and after two or three engagements with the robbers, the troops there sent a letter to the king saying that they were unable to carry the matter through. Then the king was anxious to go in person and assembled a mighty host. And he said to his wife, “Dear! I go to the frontier, where battles will end in victory or defeat. The camp is no place for a woman, and you must stay behind here.”

“I can’t live alone here, my lord,” said she. But finding the king firm in his decision she made the following request. “Every league, send a messenger to enquire how I fare.” And the king promised to do so. Accordingly, when he marched out with his host, leaving the Bodhisatta in the city, the king sent back a messenger at the end of every league to let the queen know how he was, and to find out how she fared. When a messenger comes, The queen asked him what for he came. On receiving the answer that he was come to learn how she fared, the queen beckoned the messenger to her and sinned with him. Now the king journeyed two and thirty leagues and sent two and thirty messengers and the queen sinned with them all. And when he had pacified the frontier, to the great joy of the inhabitants, he started on his home-ward journey, despatching a second series of thirty two messengers. And the queen misbehaved with each one of these, as before. Halting his victorious army near the city, the king sent a letter to the Bodhisatta to prepare the city for his entry. The preparations in the city were done, and the Bodhisatta was preparing the palace for the king’s arrival; then he came to the queen’s apartments. The sight of his great beauty so moved the queen that she called to him to satisfy her lust. But the Bodhisatta pleaded with her, urging the king’s honour, and protesting that he shrank from all sin and would not do as she wished. “No thoughts of the king frightened sixty four of the king’s messengers,” said she; and will you for the king’s sake fear to do my will?”

The Bodhisatta said, “Had these messengers thought with me, they would not have acted thus. As for me, knowing the right, I will not commit this sin.”

She said, “Don’t talk nonsense. If you refuse, I will have your head chopped off.”

The Bodhisatta said, “So be it. Cut off my head. Yet I will not do as you say.”

The queen said menacingly, “All right; I will see.” And retiring to her chamber, she scratched herself, put oil on her limbs, clad herself in dirty clothes and feigned to be ill. Then she sent for her slaves and told them to tell the king that she was ill.

Meantime the Bodhisatta had gone to meet the king. The king, after marching round the city in solemn procession, entered his palace. Not seeing the queen, he asked where she was, and was told that she was ill. Entering the royal bed chamber, the king caressed the queen and asked what ailed her. She was silent; but when the king asked the third time, she looked at him and said, “The chaplain whom you left to watch over the city came here on pretence of seeing after the palace; and because I would not yield to his will, he beat me to his heart’s content and went off.”

Then the king fumed with rage, he rushed from the chamber. Calling his servants, he told them to bind the chaplain with his hands behind him, like one condemned to death, and cut off his head at the place of execution. So they obeyed the orders of the king. And the drum was beaten to announce the execution.

The Bodhisatta thought, “Doubtless! that wicked queen has already poisoned the king’s mind against me.”

The Bodhisatta said to his captors, “Take me to the king, before you kill me.”

“Why so?” said they.

The Bodhisatta said, “I have worked as the king’s servant for so many years and I only know where great treasures are hidden which I have discovered. If I don’t tell this to the king, all this wealth will be lost. So lead me to him, and then do your duty.”

Accordingly, they brought him before the king, who asked why reverence had not restrained him from such wickedness.

The Bodhisatta answered, “Sir! I was born a Brahmin, and have never taken the life so much as of an emmet or ant. I have never taken what was not my own, even a blade of grass. Never have I looked with lustful eyes upon another man’s wife. Not even in jest have I spoken falsely, and not a drop of strong drink have I ever drunk. Innocent am I, sir! but that wicked woman took me lustfully by the hand, and, being rebuffed, threatened me, nor did she retire to her chamber before she had told me her secret evil doing. There were sixty four messengers who came with letters from you to the queen. Send for these men and ask each whether they did as the queen asked them or not.” Then the king had the sixty four men chained and sent for the queen. And she confessed sinning with the men. Then the king ordered to execute all the sixty four.

But at this point the Bodhisatta cried out, “No! Sir! the men are not to blame; for they were constrained by the queen. Therefore pardon them. And as for the queen she is not to blame, for the passions of women are insatiate, and she does but act according to her inborn nature. Therefore, pardon her also.”

Upon this entreaty the king was merciful, and so the Bodhisatta saved the lives of the queen and the sixty four men, and he gave them each a place to live in. Then the Bodhisatta came to the king and said, “Sir! the baseless accusations of folly put the wise in unmerited bonds, but the words of the wise released the foolish. Thus folly wrongfully binds, and wisdom sets free from bonds.”

When he had taught the king the Truth, he exclaimed, “All this trouble sprang from my living a lay life. I must change my mode of life, and crave your permission, sir! to give up the world.”

And with the king’s permission he gave up the world and quit his tearful relations and his great wealth to become a recluse. His dwelling was in the Himalayas, and there he won the Higher Knowledges and the Attainments and became destined to rebirth in the Brahma Realm.