The Prince of the Golden Conch

No one in the palace of King Samon had ever seen the real face of the young man called Ngoh. Not once. On sunny days and rainy days alike, whether he was plowing in the fields or standing in the royal courtyard, he always wore an ugly mask. It covered him from his forehead down to his chin. The skin that showed at the sides was grimy and smudged, as if stained by smoke, and his tangled hair was never combed. Everyone had grown used to that mask. No one even bothered to wonder anymore what kind of face lay behind it.

As people in old Thailand told it, the story of Ngoh began long before, in another kingdom, with a large golden conch shell.

In those days, Queen Chanthewi was carrying a child. But when her time came, instead of a baby she gave birth to a conch shell of shining gold, round and heavy in her hands. In the palace there was someone full of envy, who did not want the queen to be held in honor. Day after day, this person whispered slanders into the king's ear. Heard often enough, the lies began to sound true. The king flew into a rage and ordered the queen and her strange shell driven out of the palace.

The queen carried the shell away into exile and found shelter in the countryside. Not long after, the shell split open, and out stepped a bright, handsome little boy. He grew quickly and was devoted to his mother. Every day he helped her with the heavy work.

But the person who had slandered them still clung to that old spite. Danger found mother and son a second time. The boy had to leave his mother and flee alone, through one forest after another. At night only the moonlight slipping between the leaves showed him the way. Dry leaves crackled under his feet, and he held his breath behind every bush. By good fortune he escaped safely, without a scratch, though danger lay in wait all along the way.

Deep in a forest, he was taken in by a giantess who lived there alone, far from everyone. She loved him like her own son, and she raised him and taught him with great care. She warned him of only one thing, and she warned him again and again. He must never, ever go near the golden well behind the house.

The years went by, and the boy grew into a young man. But that warning kept ringing in his head, and the more he thought about it, the more curious he became. One quiet noon, when no one was around, he slipped out behind the house and looked down into the well. The water at the bottom glimmered with a strange and wonderful light. He dipped his hand in, and then he stepped right down into the water to bathe. When he climbed out again, his whole skin had turned a blazing gold, bright as the early morning sun.

He knew he could not stay any longer. So he took the ugly mask and a few other things that belonged to the giantess. He put on the mask to hide the golden skin he had just gained, and he left the forest behind. He walked on and on, until at last he reached the kingdom of King Samon.

King Samon had seven daughters. Six of them were already married. Only the youngest, Princess Rotchana, was still at home. As custom required, princes and the sons of powerful families came from far and wide. They stood in a long line in the royal courtyard, waiting for the princess to throw a garland and so choose her husband. Every one of them was dressed in fine robes and hats. Only Ngoh stood among the servants, his face hidden by the mask, and no one cared to look his way.

The garland flew up from the princess's hand. It sailed past one handsome face after another, and then it dropped straight into the hands of ugly Ngoh. For a moment the whole courtyard went silent. The princess lowered her head and smiled softly, without a trace of regret. She had made her choice, and she kept her word.

King Samon was furious. He could not believe that his youngest daughter had chosen the ugliest man at court. He shouted at her, demanding to know why she had done it. Princess Rotchana raised her head. Her voice was still soft, but it was steady. "Father, I have made my choice, and I will not change my mind." The king was left without words. In the end he drove the couple out of the palace and made them live among the farmers, out in the fields. But even then his anger had not cooled. He thought up a way to get rid of the son-in-law he so disliked. He ordered all of his sons-in-law, Ngoh among them, to go fishing in the river and to hunt deer in the forest. Whoever brought back the most would be richly rewarded.

The first son-in-law came back empty-handed. The second caught only a few small fish. The third, the fourth, the fifth and then the sixth all returned disappointed, no better than the first two. When it was Ngoh's turn, he went quietly off to the river and into the forest, and hardly anyone paid him any attention. By evening he came back with a basket full of fish and a cart full of deer. It was more than all six of his brothers-in-law had brought home together. The whole court buzzed with talk. Still King Samon tried to look away, unwilling to believe what he had seen with his own eyes.

Some time later, the god Indra in the heavens joined in the fun as well. He set up a polo match on horseback, so that the sons-in-law of King Samon could test their skill against one another. When Ngoh rode out onto the field, everyone covered their mouths and sneered. The ball shot high into the air. It flew so high that it seemed to touch the clouds. Ngoh sprang up to meet it with masterful strokes of his stick, so fast and so precise that no one could keep up with him. He moved with such force that the mask suddenly slipped right off his face.

The whole field fell silent. Beneath the mask that had just dropped to the ground was a radiant face. His skin shone gold, as if a layer of sunlight had been laid over him. Ugly Ngoh was gone. In his place stood Prince Sang Thong, majestic in the middle of the field, the polo stick still in his hand. King Samon stood frozen for a long while. Then he came down from his seat and embraced the son-in-law he had once cast aside.

The news spread all through the palace. It reached someone who had been living quietly among the servants of King Samon. She was the prince's own mother, Queen Chanthewi of long ago, the one who had once carried the golden shell into exile. On the day they met again, Sang Thong knelt down beside his mother. He took her hands, wrinkled by long years of hardship, and he could say nothing at all except "Mother." From that day on she was brought to live in the palace. There she was honored and lovingly cared for, for all the rest of her years.

In Thailand, people still tell this story on the lakhon stage, a kind of folk drama. King Rama the Second helped revise the play into a work of literature that is still handed down today. Every time the play reaches the moment when the mask falls to the ground, the audience still holds its breath. It is as if they were seeing for the first time, after all those years, the true face of a prince the whole court once laughed at.