There was an unmarried porter who lived in the city of Baghdad. One day, while he was standing in the market, leaning on his basket, a woman came up to him wrapped in a silken Mosuli shawl with a floating ribbon and wearing embroidered shoes fringed with gold thread. When she raised her veil, beneath it could be seen dark eyes which, with their eyelashes and eyelids, shot soft glances, perfect in their quality. She turned to the porter and said in a sweet, clear voice: ‘Take your basket and follow me.’ Almost before he was sure of what she had said, he rushed to pick up the basket. ‘What a lucky day, a day of good fortune!’ he exclaimed, following her until she stopped by the door of a house. She knocked at it and a Christian came down to whom she gave a dinar, taking in exchange an olive-coloured jar of strained wine. She put this in the basket and said to the porter: ‘Pick this up and follow me.’ ‘By God,’ repeated the porter, ‘this is a blessed and a fortunate day!’ and he did what she told him.
She then stopped at a fruiterer’s shop, where she bought Syrian apples, Uthmani quinces, Omani peaches, jasmine and water lilies from Syria, autumn cucumbers, lemons, sultani oranges, scented myrtle, privet flowers, camomile blossoms, red anemones, violets, pomegranate blooms and eglantine. All these she put into the porter’s basket, telling him to pick it up. This he did and he followed her until she stopped at the butcher’s, where she got the man to cut her ten ratls’ weight of meat. He did this, and after paying him, she wrapped the meat in banana leaves and put it in the basket, giving the porter his instructions. He picked up the basket and followed her to the grocer, from whom she bought pistachio kernels for making a dessert, Tihama raisins and shelled almonds. The porter was told to pick them up and to follow her. Next she stopped at the sweetmeat seller’s shop. This time she bought a bowl and filled it with all that he had – sugar cakes, doughnuts stuffed with musk, ‘soap’ cakes, lemon tarts, Maimuni tarts, ‘Zainab’s combs’, sugar fingers and ‘qadis’ snacks’.
Every type of pastry was piled on to a plate and put into the basket, at which the porter exclaimed: ‘If you had told me, I’d have brought a donkey with me to carry all this stuff.’ The girl smiled and gave him a cuff on the back of the neck. ‘Hurry up,’ she said. ‘Don’t talk so much and you will get your reward, if God Almighty wills it.’ Then she stopped at the perfume seller’s where she bought ten types of scented water – including rosewater, orange-flower water, waters scented with water lilies and with willow flowers – two sugar loaves, a bottle of musk-scented rosewater, a quantity of frankincense, aloes, ambergris, musk and Alexandrian candles. All of these she put in the basket, telling the porter to pick it up and follow her.
He carried his basket and followed her to a handsome house, overlooking a spacious courtyard. It was a tall, pillared building, whose door had two ebony leaves, plated with red gold. The girl halted by the door, raised the veil from her face and knocked lightly, while the porter remained standing behind her, his thoughts occupied with her beauty. The door opened and, as its leaves parted, the porter looked at the person who had opened it. He saw a lady of medium height, with jutting breasts, beautiful, comely, resplendent, with a perfect and well-proportioned figure, a radiant brow, red cheeks and eyes rivalling those of a wild cow or a gazelle. Her eyebrows were like the crescent moon of the month of Sha‘ban; she had cheeks like red anemones, a mouth like the seal of Solomon, coral red lips, teeth like camomile blossoms or pearls on a string, and a gazelle-like neck. Her bosom was like an ornate fountain, with breasts like twin pomegranates; she had an elegant belly and a navel that could contain an ounce of unguent. She was as the poet described:
Look at the sun and the moon of the palaces,
At the jewel in her nose and at her flowery splendour.
Your eye has not seen white on black
United in beauty as in her face and in her hair.
She is rosy-cheeked; beauty proclaims her name,
Even if you are not fortunate enough to know of her.
She swayed and I laughed in wonder at her haunches,
But her waist prompted my tears.
As the porter stared at her, he lost his wits and the basket almost fell from his head. ‘Never in my life,’ he repeated, ‘have I known a more blessed day than this!’ The girl who had answered the door said to the other, who had brought the provisions: ‘Come in and take the basket from this poor porter.’ So the two girls went in, followed by the porter, and they went on until they reached a spacious, well-designed and beautiful courtyard, with additional carvings, vaulted chambers and alcoves, and furnished with sofas, wardrobes, cupboards and curtains. In the middle of it was a large pool filled with water on which floated a skiff, and at its upper end was a couch of juniper wood studded with gems over which was suspended a mosquito net of red satin, the buttons of whose fastenings were pearls as big as or bigger than hazelnuts.
From within this emerged a resplendent girl of pleasing beauty, glorious as the moon, with the character of a philosopher. Her eyes were bewitching, with eyebrows like bent bows; her figure was slender and straight as the letter alif; her breath had the scent of ambergris; her lips were carnelian red, sweet as sugar; and her face would shame the light of the radiant sun. She was like one of the stars of heaven, a golden dome, an unveiled bride or a noble Bedouin lady, as described by the poet:
It is as though she smiles to show stringed pearls,
Hailstones or flowers of camomile.
The locks of her hair hang black as night,
While her beauty shames the light of dawn.
This third girl rose from the couch and walked slowly to join her sisters in the centre of the hall. ‘Why are you standing here?’ she said. ‘Take the basket from the head of this poor porter.’ The provision buyer or housekeeper came first, followed by the doorkeeper, and the third girl helped them to lower the basket, after which they emptied out its contents and put everything in its place. Then they gave the porter two dinars and told him to be off. For his part, he looked at the lovely girls, the most beautiful he had ever seen, with their equally delightful natures. There were no men with them and, as he stared in astonishment at the wine, the fruits, the scented blossoms and all the rest, he was reluctant to leave. ‘Why don’t you go?’ asked the girl. ‘Do you think that we didn’t pay you enough?’ and with that, she turned to her sister and said: ‘Give him another dinar.’ ‘By God, lady,’ said the porter, ‘it was not that I thought that the payment was too little, for my fee would not come to two dirhams, but you have taken over my heart and soul. How is it that you are alone with no men here and no pleasant companion? You know that there must be four to share a proper feast and women cannot enjoy themselves except with men. As the poet says:
Do you not see that four things join for entertainment –
Harp, lute, zither and pipe,
Matched by four scented flowers –
Rose, myrtle, gillyflower, anemone.
These only become pleasant with another four –
Wine, gardens, a beloved and some gold.
There are three of you and so you need a fourth, who must be a man of intelligence, sensible, clever and one who can keep a secret.’
The three girls were surprised by what the porter said, and they laughed at him and asked: ‘Who can produce us a man like that? We are girls and are afraid of entrusting our secrets to someone who would not keep them. We have read in an account what the poet Ibn al-Thumam once said:
Guard your secret as you can, entrusting it to none,
For if you do, you will have let it go.
If your own breast cannot contain your secret,
How is it to be held by someone else?
And Abu Nuwas has said:
Whoever lets the people know his secret
Deserves a brand imprinted on his forehead.’
When the porter heard what they said, he exclaimed: ‘By God, I am an intelligent and a trustworthy man; I have read books and studied histories; I make public what is good and conceal what is bad. As the poet says:
Only the trustworthy can keep a secret,
And it is with the good that secrets are concealed.
With me they are kept locked inside a room
Whose keys are lost and whose door has been sealed.’
When the girls heard this quotation, they said: ‘You know that we have spent a great deal of money on this place. Do you have anything with you which you can use to pay us back? We shall not let you sit with us as our companion and to look on our comely and beautiful faces until you pay down some money. Have you not heard what the author of the proverb said: “Love without cash is worthless”?’ The doorkeeper said: ‘My dear, if you have something, you are someone, but if you have nothing, then go without anything.’ At that point, however, the housekeeper said: ‘Sisters, let him be. For, by God, he has not failed us today, whereas someone else might not have put up with us, and whatever debt he may run up, I will settle for him.’ The porter was delighted and thanked her, kissing the ground, but the girl who had been on the couch said: ‘By God, we shall only let you sit with us on one condition, which is that you ask no questions about what does not concern you, and if you are inquisitive you will be beaten.’ ‘I agree, lady,’ said the porter. ‘I swear by my head and my eye, and here I am, a man with no tongue.’
The housekeeper then got up, tucked up her skirts, set out the wine bottles and strained the wine. She set green herbs beside the wine-jar and brought everything that might be needed. She then brought out the winejar and sat down with her two sisters, while the porter, sitting between the three of them, thought he must be dreaming. From the wine-jar that she had fetched she filled a cup, drank it, and followed it with a second and a third. Then she filled the cup and passed it to her sister and finally to the porter. She recited:
Drink with pleasure and the enjoyment of good health,
For this wine is a cure for all disease.
The porter took the cup in his hand, bowed, thanked her and recited:
Wine should be drunk beside a trusted friend,
One of pure birth from the line of old heroes.
For wine is like the wind, sweet if it passes scented flowers,
But stinking if it blows over a corpse.
Then he added:
Take wine only from a fawn,
Subtle in meaning when she speaks to you,
Resembling the wine itself.
After he had recited these lines, he kissed the hand of each of the girls.
Then he drank until he became tipsy, after which he swayed and recited:
The only blood we are allowed to drink
Is blood that comes from grapes.
So pour this out for me, and may my life
And all I have, both new and old,
Serve to ransom your gazelle-like eyes.
Then the housekeeper took the cup, filled it and gave it to the doorkeeper, who took it from him with thanks and drank it. She then filled it for the lady of the house, before pouring another cup and passing it to the porter, who kissed the ground in front of her, thanked her and recited:
Fetch wine, by God; bring me the brimming glass.
Pour it for me; this is the water of life.
He then went up to the mistress of the house and said: ‘Lady, I am your slave, your mamluk and your servant.’ He recited:
By the door there stands a slave of yours,
Acknowledging your kindly charity.
May he come in, fair one, to see your loveliness?
I swear by love itself I cannot leave.
She replied: ‘Enjoy yourself, drink with pleasure and the well-being that follows the path of health.’ He took the cup, kissed her hand and chanted:
I gave her old wine, coloured like her cheeks,
Unmixed and gleaming like a fiery brand.
She kissed it and said, laughingly:
‘How can you pour us people’s cheeks?’
I said: ‘Drink: this comes from my tears;
Its redness is my blood;
My breath has heated it within the glass.’
She replied with the lines:
Companion, if you have wept blood for me,
Pour it obediently for me to drink.
She then took the cup, drank it and sat down with her sister. They continued to drink, with the porter seated between them, and as they drank, they danced, laughed and sang, reciting poems and lyrics. The porter began to play with them, kissing, biting, rubbing, feeling, touching and taking liberties. One of them would give him morsels to eat, another would cuff him and slap him, and the third would bring him scented flowers. With them he was enjoying the pleasantest of times, as though he was seated among the houris of Paradise.
They went on in this way until the wine had taken its effect on their heads and their brains. When it had got the upper hand of them, the doorkeeper stood up, stripped off her clothes until she was naked, and letting down her hair as a veil, she jumped into the pool. She sported in the water, ducking her head and then spitting out the water, after which she took some in her mouth and spat it over the porter.She washed her limbs and between her thighs, after which she came out from the water and threw herself down on his lap. ‘My master, my darling, what is the name of this?’ she said, pointing to her vagina. ‘Your womb,’ he replied. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘Have you no shame?’ and she seized him by the neck and started to cuff him. ‘Your vagina,’ he said, and she cuffed him again on the back of his neck, saying: ‘Oh! Oh! How disgusting! Aren’t you ashamed?’ ‘Your vulva,’ he replied. ‘Do you feel no shame for your honour?’ and she struck him a blow with her hand. ‘Your hornet,’ he said, at which the lady of the house pounced on him and beat him, saying: ‘Don’t speak like that.’
With every new name that he produced, the girls beat him more and more, until the back of his neck had almost dissolved under their slaps. They were laughing among themselves, until he asked: ‘What do you call it, then?’ ‘The mint of the dykes,’ replied the doorkeeper. ‘Thank God, I am safe now,’ said the porter. ‘Good for you, mint of the dykes.’ Then the wine was passed round again, and the housekeeper got up, took off her clothes and threw herself on to the porter’s lap. ‘What is this called, light of my eyes?’ she asked, pointing at her private parts. ‘Your vagina,’ he said. ‘Oh, how dirty of you!’ she exclaimed, and she struck him a blow that resounded around the hall, adding: ‘Oh! Oh! Have you no shame?’ ‘The mint of the dykes,’ he said, but blows and slaps still rained on the back of his neck. He tried another four names, but the girls kept on saying: ‘No, no!’ ‘The mint of the dykes,’ he repeated, and they laughed so much that they fell over backwards. Then they fell to beating his neck, saying: ‘No, that’s not its name.’ He said: ‘O my sisters, what is it called?’ ‘Husked sesame,’ they said. Then the housekeeper put her clothes back on and they sat, drinking together, with the porter groaning at the pain in his neck and shoulders.
After the wine had been passed round again, the lady of the house, the most beautiful of the three, stood up and stripped off her clothes. The porter grasped the back of his neck with his hand and massaged it, saying: ‘My neck and my shoulders are common property.’ When the girl was naked, she jumped into the pool, dived under water, played around and washed herself. To the porter in her nakedness she looked like a sliver of the moon, with a face like the full moon when it rises or the dawn when it breaks. He looked at her figure, her breasts and her heavy buttocks as they swayed, while she was naked as her Lord had created her. ‘Oh! Oh!’ he said, and he recited:
If I compare your figure to a sappy branch,
I load my heart with wrongs and with injustice.
Branches are most beautiful when concealed with leaves,
While you are loveliest when we meet you naked.
On hearing these lines, the girl came out of the pool and sat on the porter’s lap. She pointed at her vulva and said: ‘Little master, what is the name of this?’ ‘The mint of the dykes,’ he replied, and when she exclaimed in disgust, he tried ‘the husked sesame’. ‘Bah!’ she said. ‘Your womb,’ he suggested. ‘Oh! Oh! Aren’t you ashamed?’ and she slapped the back of his neck. Whatever name he produced, she slapped him, saying: ‘No, no,’ until he asked: ‘Sisters, what is it called?’ ‘The khan of Abu Mansur,’ they replied. ‘Praise God that I have reached safety at last,’ he said. ‘Ho for the khan of Abu Mansur!’ The girl got up and put on her clothes and they all went back to what they had been doing.
For a time the wine circulated among them and the porter then got up, undressed and went into the pool. The girls looked at him swimming in the water and washing under his beard and beneath his armpits, as they had done. Then he came out and threw himself into the lap of the lady of the house, with his arms in the lap of the doorkeeper and his feet and legs in the lap of the girl who had bought the provisions. Then he pointed to his penis and said: ‘Ladies, what is the name of this?’ They all laughed at this until they fell over backwards. ‘Your zubb,’ one of them suggested. ‘No,’ he said, and he bit each of them. ‘Your air,’ they said, but he repeated ‘No’, and embraced each of them. They went on laughing until they said: ‘What is its name, then, brother?’ ‘Don’t you know?’ ‘No.’ ‘This is the mule that breaks barriers, browses on the mint of the dykes, eats the husked sesame and that passes the night in the khan of Abu Mansur.’ The girls laughed until they fell over backwards and then they continued with their drinking party, carrying on until nightfall.
At this point, they told the porter that it was time for him to get up, put on his gaiters and go – ‘Show us the width of your shoulders.’ ‘By God,’ said the porter, ‘if the breath of life were to leave me, it would be easier for me to bear than having to part from you. Let me link night with day, and in the morning we can all go our separate ways.’ The girl who had bought the provisions pleaded with the others: ‘Let him sleep here so that we can laugh at him. Who knows whether in all our lives we shall meet someone else like him, both wanton and witty?’ They then said: ‘You can only spend the night with us on condition that you accept our authority and that you don’t ask about anything you see or the reason for it.’ The porter agreed to this, and they then told him: ‘Get up and read what is written over the door.’ He went to the door and there he found written above it in gold leaf: ‘Whoever talks about what does not concern him will hear what will not please him.’ ‘I call you to witness,’ he said, ‘that I shall not talk about what is no concern of mine.’
The housekeeper got up and prepared a meal for them, which they ate, and then they lit candles and lamps, dipping ambergris and aloes into the candles. They sat drinking and talking of past loves, after having reset the table with fresh fruits and more wine. They continued for a time, eating, drinking, carousing together over their dessert, laughing and teasing each other, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. This did not disrupt the party, however, and one of the girls went by herself to the door and returned to report: ‘Our happiness is complete tonight.’ ‘How is that?’ the others asked. She told them: ‘At the door are three Persian dervishes, with shaven chins, heads and eyebrows. By a very remarkable coincidence, each of them has lost his left eye. They have only just arrived after a journey; they are showing the signs of travel and this is the first time that they have been to our city, Baghdad. They knocked on our door because they couldn’t find a lodging for the night and they had said to themselves: “Perhaps the owner of this house would give us the key to a stable or to a hut in which we could pass the night.” For they had been caught out by nightfall, and, being strangers, they had no acquaintance who might give them shelter – and, sisters, each of them is of a ludicrous appearance.’
She continued to persuade and cajole until the others agreed to let the Persians come in on condition that they would not talk about what did not concern them lest they hear what would not please them. The girl went off joyfully and came back with the three one-eyed men, with shaven beards and moustaches. They spoke words of greeting, bowed and hung back. The girls got up to welcome them and, after congratulating them on their safe arrival, told them to be seated.
What the visitors saw was a pleasant and clean room, furnished with greenery, where there were lighted candles, incense rising into the air, dessert, fruits and wine, together with three virgin girls. ‘This is good, by God,’ they all agreed. Then they turned to the porter and found him cheerfully tired out and drunk. They thought, on seeing him, that he must be one of their own kind and said: ‘This is a dervish like us, either a foreigner or an Arab.’ Hearing this, the porter glowered at them and said: ‘Sit down and don’t be inquisitive. Didn’t you read what is written over the door? It is not for poor men who arrive like you to let loose your tongues at us.’ The newcomers apologized submissively, and the girls laughed and made peace between them and the porter, after which food was produced for the new arrivals, which they ate.
They then sat drinking together, with the doorkeeper pouring the wine and the wine cup circulating among them. The porter then asked the visitors whether they had some story or anecdote to tell. Heated by wine, they, in their turn, asked for musical instruments and were brought a tambourine, a lute and a Persian harp by the doorkeeper. They then got up and tuned the instruments, after which each one took one of them, struck a note and began to sing. The girls added a shrill accompaniment and the noise rose. Then, while this was going on, there was a knock at the door and the doorkeeper got up to see what was going on.
The reason for this knocking was that the caliph Harun al-Rashid was in the habit of going around disguised as a merchant and he had come down from his palace that night on an excursion to listen to the latest news, accompanied by his vizier, Ja‘far, and Masrur, his executioner. On his way through the city, he and his companions had happened to pass that house, where they heard music and singing. He had said to Ja‘far: ‘I want to go in here so that we may listen to these voices and see their owners.’ Ja‘far had replied: ‘Commander of the Faithful, these people are drunk and I am afraid that they may do us some harm.’ The caliph had then said: ‘I must enter and I want you to think of some scheme to get us in.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ Ja‘far had replied, before going up and knocking on the door. When it was opened by the doorkeeper, Ja‘far advanced and kissed the ground. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘we are traders from Tiberias who have been in Baghdad for ten days. We have sold our goods and are staying at the merchants’ khan, but this evening we were invited out by a colleague. We went to his house and, after he had given us a meal, we sat drinking with him for a time, but when he let us go night had fallen and, as we are strangers here, we could not find our way back to our hostel. Of your charity, and may God reward you, would you let us come in and spend the night with you?’
The girl looked at them and saw that they were dressed as merchants and appeared to be respectable people. So she went back to her sisters and passed on Ja‘far’s message. The others sympathized with the visitors’ plight and told her: ‘Let them in,’ after which she went back and opened the door. The caliph, Ja‘far and Masrur came in and when the girls saw them, they stood up, seated their visitors and ministered to their needs, saying: ‘Welcome to our guests, but we lay a condition on you.’ ‘What is that?’ they asked. ‘That you do not speak of what does not concern you, lest you hear what will not please you.’ ‘We agree,’ they replied, and they sat down to drink together.
Looking at the three dervishes, the caliph was surprised to find that each of them had lost his left eye. He was also thrown into confusion by the beauty and grace of the girls, which prompted his admiration. They began to drink together and to talk, but when the girls invited the caliph to drink, he said: ‘I am proposing to go on the pilgrimage to Mecca.’ The doorkeeper then got up and brought him an embroidered table cloth on which she set a china jar in which she poured willow-flower water, adding some snow and a sugar lump. The caliph thanked her and said to himself: ‘By God, I shall reward her tomorrow for the good that she has done me.’
Then they all occupied themselves with drinking, and when the drink had gained the upper hand, the lady of the house got up, bowed to the company and then, taking the housekeeper by the hand, she said: ‘Sisters, come, we must settle our debt.’ ‘Yes,’ agreed the other two girls, and at that, the doorkeeper got up in front of them and first cleared the table, removed the debris, replaced the perfumes and cleared a space in the middle of the room. The dervishes were made to sit on a bench on one side of the room and the caliph, Ja‘far and Masrur on a bench on the other side. Then the lady of the house called to the porter: ‘Your friendship does not amount to much. You are not a stranger, but one of the household.’ The porter got up, tightened his belt and asked: ‘What do you want?’ ‘Stay where you are,’ she said. Then the housekeeper stood up and set a chair in the middle of the room, opened a cupboard and said to the porter: ‘Come and help me.’
In the cupboard he saw two black bitches, with chains around their necks. ‘Take them,’ said the girl,and he took them and brought them to the centre of the room. Then the lady of the house got up, rolled back her sleeves and took up a whip. ‘Bring one of them,’ she told the porter, and he did this, pulling the bitch by its chain, as it whimpered and shook its head at the girl. It howled as she struck it on the head, and she continued to beat it until her arms were tired. She then threw away the whip, pressed the bitch to her breast and wiped away its tears with her hand, kissing its head. Then she said to the porter: ‘Take this one away and bring the other.’ This he did and she treated the second bitch in the same way as the first.
The caliph was concerned and troubled by this. Unable to contain his curiosity about the story of the two bitches, he winked at Ja‘far, but the latter turned to him and gestured to him to remain silent. Then the lady of the house turned to the doorkeeper and said: ‘Get up and do your duty.’ ‘Yes,’ she replied and, getting up, she went to the couch, which was made of juniper wood with panels of gold and silver. Then the lady of the house said to the other two girls: ‘Bring out what you have.’ The doorkeeper sat on a chair by her side, while the housekeeper went into a closet and came out with a satin bag with green fringes and two golden discs. She stood in front of the lady of the house, unfastened the bag and took from it a lute whose strings she tuned and whose pegs she tightened, until it was all in order. Then she recited:
You are the object of my whole desire;
Union with you, beloved, is unending bliss,
While absence from you is like fire.
You madden me, and throughout time
In you is centred the infatuation of my love.
It brings me no disgrace that I love you.
The veils that cover me are torn away by love,
And love continues shamefully to rend all veils.
I clothe myself in sickness; my excuse is clear.
For through my love, you lead my heart astray.
Flowing tears serve to bring my secret out and make it plain.
The tearful flood reveals it, and they try
To cure the violence of this sickness, but it is you
Who are for me both the disease and its cure.
For those whose cure you are, the pains last long.
I pine away through the light shed by your eyes,
And it is my own love whose sword kills me,
A sword that has destroyed many good men.
Love has no end for me nor can I turn to consolation.
Love is my medicine and my code of law;
Secretly and openly it serves to adorn me.
You bring good fortune to the eye that looks
Its fill on you, or manages a glance.
Yes, and its choice of love distracts my heart.
When the lady of the house heard these lines, she cried: ‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’, tore her clothes and fell to the ground in a faint. The caliph was astonished to see weals caused by the blows of a whip on her body, but then the doorkeeper got up, sprinkled water over her and clothed her in a splendid dress that she had fetched for her sister. When they saw that, all the men present were disturbed, as they had no idea what lay behind it. The caliph said to Ja‘far: ‘Don’t you see this girl and the marks of a beating that she shows? I can’t keep quiet without knowing the truth of the matter and without finding out about this girl and the two black bitches.’ Ja‘far replied: ‘Master, they made it a condition that we should not talk about what did not concern us, lest we hear what we do not like.’
At this point, the doorkeeper said: ‘Sister, keep your promise and come to me.’ ‘Willingly,’ said the housekeeper, and she took the lute, cradled it to her breasts, touched it with her fingers and recited:
If I complain of the beloved’s absence, what am I to say?
Where can I go to reach what I desire?
I might send messengers to explain my love,
But this complaint no messenger can carry.
I may endure, but after he has lost
His love, the lover’s life is short.
Nothing remains but sorrow and then grief,
With tears that flood the cheeks.
You may be absent from my sight but you have still
A settled habitation in my heart.
I wonder, do you know our covenant?
Like flowing water,it does not stay long.
Have you forgotten that you loved a slave,
Who finds his cure in tears and wasted flesh?
Ah, if this love unites us once again,
I have a long complaint to make to you.
When the doorkeeper heard this second poem, she cried out and said: ‘That is good, by God.’ Then she put her hand to her clothes and tore them, as the first girl had done, and fell to the ground in a faint. The housekeeper got up and, after sprinkling her with water, clothed her in a new dress. The doorkeeper then rose and took her seat before saying: ‘Give me more and pay off the debt you owe me.’ So the housekeeper brought her lute and recited:
How long will you so roughly turn from me?
Have I not poured out tears enough?
How long do you plan to abandon me?
If this is thanks to those who envy me,
Their envy has been cured.
Were treacherous Time to treat a lover fairly,
He would not pass the night wakeful and wasted by your love.
Treat me with gentleness; your harshness injures me.
My sovereign, is it not time for mercy to be shown?
To whom shall I tell of my love, you who kill me?
How disappointed are the hopes of the one who complains,
When faithfulness is in such short supply!
My passion for you and my tears increase,
While the successive days you shun me are drawn out.
Muslims, revenge the lovesick, sleepless man,
The pasture of whose patience has scant grass.
Does love’s code permit you, you who are my desire,
To keep me at a distance while another one
Is honoured by your union? What delight or ease
Can the lover find through nearness to his love,
Who tries to see that he is weighted down by care?
When the doorkeeper heard this poem, she put her hand on her dress and ripped it down to the bottom. She then fell fainting to the ground, showing marks of a beating. The dervishes said: ‘It would have been better to have slept on a dunghill rather than to have come into this house, where our stay has been clouded by something that cuts at the heart.’ ‘Why is that?’ asked the caliph, turning to them. ‘This affair has distressed us,’ they replied. ‘Do you not belong to this household?’ he asked. ‘No,’ they replied. ‘We have never seen the place before.’ The caliph was surprised and said, gesturing at the porter: ‘This man with you may know about them.’ When they asked him, however, he said: ‘By Almighty God, love makes us all equal. I have grown up in Baghdad but this is the only time in my life that I ever entered this house and how I came to be here with these girls is a remarkable story.’
The others said: ‘By God, we thought that you were one of them, but now we see that you are like us.’ The caliph then pointed out: ‘We are seven men and they are three women. There is no fourth. So ask them about themselves, and if they don’t reply willingly, we will force them to do so.’ Everyone agreed except for Ja‘far, who said: ‘Let them be; we are their guests and they made a condition which we accepted, as you know. It would be best to let the matter rest, for there is only a little of the night left and we can then go on our ways.’ He winked at the caliph and added: ‘There is only an hour left and tomorrow we can summon them to your court and ask for their story.’ The caliph raised his head and shouted angrily: ‘I cannot bear to wait to hear about them; let the dervishes question them.’ ‘I don’t agree,’ said Ja‘far, and the two of them discussed and argued about who should ask the questions until they both agreed that it should be the porter.
The lady of the house asked what the noise was about and the porter got up and said to her: ‘My lady, these people would like you to tell them the story of the two bitches and how you come to beat them and then to weep and kiss them. They also want to know about your sister and why she has been beaten with rods like a man. These are their questions to you.’ ‘Is it true what he says about you?’ the lady of the house asked the guests, and all of them said yes, except for Ja‘far, who stayed silent. When the lady heard this, she told them: ‘By God, you have done us a great wrong. We started by making it a condition that if any of you talked about what did not concern him, he would hear what would not please him. Wasn’t it enough for you that we took you into our house and shared our food with you? But the fault is not so much yours as that of the one who brought you in to us.’
Then she rolled her sleeve back above the wrist and struck the floor three times, saying: ‘Hurry.’ At this, the door of a closet opened and out came seven black slaves, with drawn swords in their hands. ‘Tie up these men who talk too much,’ she said, ‘and bind them one to the other.’ This the slaves did, after which they said: ‘Lady, give us the order to cut off their heads.’ She replied: ‘Let them have some time so that I may ask them about their circumstances before their heads are cut off.’ ‘God save me,’ said the porter. ‘Don’t kill me, lady, for someone else’s fault. All the rest have done wrong and have committed a fault except me. By God, it would have been a pleasant night had we been saved from these dervishes who entered a prosperous city and then ruined it.’ He recited:
How good it is when a powerful man forgives,
Particularly when those forgiven have no helper.
By the sanctity of the love we share,
Do not spoil what came first by what then follows it.
When the porter had finished reciting these lines, the girl laughed in spite of her anger. She then went up to the men and said: ‘Tell me about yourselves, for you have no more than one hour to live, and were you not people of rank, leaders or governors among your peoples, you would not have been so daring.’ ‘Damn you, Ja‘far,’ the caliph said. ‘Tell her about us or else we shall be killed by mistake, and speak softly to her before we become victims of misfortune.’ ‘That is part of what you deserve,’ replied Ja‘far, but the caliph shouted at him: ‘There is a time for joking, but now is when we must be serious.’ The lady then went to the dervishes and asked them whether they were brothers. ‘No, by God,’ they said, ‘we are only faqirs and foreigners.’ She next asked one of them whether he had been born one-eyed. ‘No, by God,’ he said, ‘but I have a strange and wonderful story about the loss of my eye, which, were it written with needles on the inner corners of the eyeballs, would serve as a warning to those who take heed.’ The second and the third dervish, when asked, made the same reply, and they then said: ‘By God, lady, each of us comes from a different country and each is the son of a king and is a ruler over lands and subjects.’
She turned to them and said: ‘Each of you is to tell his story and explain why he came here and he can then touch his forelock and go on his way.’ The first to come forward was the porter, who said: ‘Lady, I am a porter and this girl, who bought you your provisions, told me to carry them from the wine seller to the fruiterer, from the fruiterer to the butcher, from the butcher to the grocer, from the grocer to the sweetmeat seller and the perfumer, and then here. You know what happened to me with you. This is my story, and that’s all there is.’ The girl laughed and said: ‘Touch your forelock and go.’ ‘By God,’ he said, ‘I am not going to leave until I have heard the stories of my companions.’ THE FIRST DERVISH THEN CAME FORWARD AND SAID:
Lady, know that the reason why my chin is shaven and my eye has been plucked out is that my father was a king, who had a brother, also a king, who reigned in another city. His son and I were born on the same day. Years later, when we had grown up, I had got into the habit of visiting my uncle every so often, and I would stay with him for some months. My cousin treated me with the greatest generosity, and would kill sheep for me and pour out wine that he strained for me. Once, when we were sitting drinking and were both under the influence of the wine, he said to me: ‘Cousin, there is something that I need from you. Please don’t refuse to do what I want.’ ‘I shall obey you with pleasure,’ I said. After binding me with the most solemn of oaths, he got up straight away and left for a short while. Back he came then with a lady, veiled, perfumed and wearing the most expensive of clothes, who stood behind him as he turned to me and said: ‘Take this woman and go ahead of me to such-and-such a cemetery’ – a place that I recognized from his description. ‘Take her to the burial enclosure and wait for me there.’
Because of the oath that I had sworn, I could not disobey him or refuse his request and so I went off with the woman and we both went into the enclosure. While we were sitting there, my cousin arrived with a bowl of water, a bag containing plaster, and a carpenter’s axe. Taking this axe, he went to a tomb in the middle of the enclosure and started to open it up, moving its stones to one side. Then he used the axe to prod about in the soil of the tomb until he uncovered an iron cover the size of a small door. He raised this, revealing beneath it a vaulted staircase. Turning to the woman, he said: ‘Now you can do what you have chosen to do,’ at which she went down the stairs. My cousin then looked at me and said: ‘In order to complete the favour that you are doing me, when I go down there myself, I ask you to put back the cover and to replace the soil on top of it as it was before. Use the mortar that is in this bag and the water in the bowl to make a paste and coat the circle of the stones in the enclosure so that it looks as it did before, without anyone being able to say: “The inner part is old but there is a new opening here.” I have been working on this for a full year and no one but God knows what I have been doing. This is what I need from you.’ He then took his leave of me, wishing me well, and went down the stairs. When he was out of sight, I got up and replaced the cover and followed his instructions, so that the place looked just as it had before.
I then went back like a drunken man to the palace of my uncle, who was away hunting. In the morning, after a night’s sleep, I thought of what had happened to my cousin the evening before and, when repentance was of no use, I repented of what I had done and of how I had obeyed him. Thinking that it might have been a dream, I started to ask after my cousin, but nobody could tell me where he was. I went out to the cemetery, looking for the enclosure, but I could not find it. I kept on going round enclosure after enclosure and grave after grave until nightfall, but I still failed in my search. I returned to the palace, but I could neither eat nor drink, for my thoughts were taken up with my cousin, as I did not know how he was, and I was intensely distressed. I passed a troubled night until morning came, when I went for a second time to the cemetery, thinking over what my cousin had done and regretting that I had listened to him. I went round all the enclosures but, to my regret, I still could not find the right one or recognize the grave.
For seven days I went on with my fruitless quest, and my misgivings increased until I was almost driven mad. The only relief I could find was to leave and go back to my father, but as soon as I reached the gate of his city, I was attacked by a group of men who tied me up. I was astonished, seeing that I was the son of the city’s ruler and they were my father’s servants, and in my alarm I said to myself: ‘What can have happened to my father?’ I asked my captors why they were doing this. At first they did not answer, but after a time one of them, who had been a servant of mine, said: ‘Your father has fallen victim to the treachery of Time. The army conspired against him and he was killed by the vizier, who has taken his place. It was on his orders that we were watching out for you.’
I was stunned by what I heard about my father and fearful because I had a long-standing quarrel with the vizier, before whom my captors now brought me. I had been passionately fond of shooting with a pellet bow and the quarrel arose from this. One day when I was standing on the roof of my palace, a bird settled on the roof of the palace of the vizier. I intended to shoot it, but the pellet missed and, as had been decreed by fate, it struck out the eye of the vizier. This was like the proverb expressed in the old lines:
We walked with a pace that was decreed for us,
And this is how those under fate’s control must walk.
A man destined to die in a certain land
Will not find death in any other.
When the vizier lost his eye, he could not say anything because my father was the king of the city, and this was why he was my enemy. When I now stood before him with my hands tied, he ordered my head to be cut off. ‘For what crime do you kill me?’ I asked. ‘What crime is greater than this?’ he replied, pointing to his missing eye [sic]. ‘I did that by accident,’ I protested. ‘If you did it by accident,’ he replied, ‘I am doing this deliberately.’ Then he said: ‘Bring him forward.’ The guards brought me up in front of him, and sticking his finger into my right eye, the vizier plucked it out, leaving me from that time on one-eyed, as you can see. Then he had me tied up and put in a box, telling the executioner: ‘Take charge of him; draw your sword and when you have brought him outside the city, kill him and let the birds and beasts eat him.’
The executioner took me out of the city to the middle of the desert and then he removed me from the box, bound as I was, hand and foot. He was about to bandage my eyes before going on to kill me, but I wept so bitterly that I moved him to tears. Then, looking at him, I recited:
I thought of you as a strong coat of mail
To guard me from the arrows of my foes,
But you are now the arrow head.
I pinned my hopes on you in all calamities
When my right hand could no longer aid my left.
Leave aside what censurers say,
And let my enemies shoot their darts at me.
If you do not protect me from my foes,
At least your silence neither hurts me nor helps them.
There are also other lines:
I thought my brothers were a coat of mail;
They were, but this was for the enemy.
I thought of them as deadly shafts;
They were, but their points pierced my heart.
The executioner had been in my father’s service and I had done him favours, so when he heard these lines, he said: ‘Master, what can I do? I am a slave under command.’ But then he added: ‘Keep your life, but don’t come back to this land or else you will be killed and you will destroy me, together with yourself. As one of the poets has said:
If you should meet injustice, save your life
And let the house lament its builder.
You can replace the country that you leave,
But there is no replacement for your life.
I wonder at those who live humiliated
When God’s earth is so wide.
Send out no messenger on any grave affair,
For only you yourself will give you good advice.
The necks of lions would not be so thick
Were others present to look after them.’
I kissed his hands, scarcely believing that I had escaped death, in comparison with which I found the loss of my eye insignificant. So I travelled to my uncle’s city and, after presenting myself to him, I told him what had happened to my father, as well as how I had come to lose my eye. He burst into tears and said: ‘You have added to my cares and my sorrows. For your cousin disappeared days ago and I don’t know what has happened to him, nor can anyone bring me news.’ He continued to weep until he fainted and I was bitterly sorry for him. He then wanted to apply some medicaments to my eye, but when he saw that it was like an empty walnut shell, he said: ‘Better to lose your eye, my boy, than to lose your life.’
At that, I could no longer stay silent about the affair of my cousin, his son, and so I told him all that had happened. When he heard my news, he was delighted and told me to come and show him the enclosure. ‘By God, uncle,’ I said, ‘I don’t know where it is. I went back a number of times after that and searched, but I couldn’t find the place.’ Then, however, he and I went to the cemetery and, after looking right and left, to our great joy I recognized the place. The two of us went into the enclosure and, after removing the earth, we lifted the cover. We climbed down fifty steps and when we had reached the bottom, we were met by blinding smoke. ‘There is no might and no power except with God, the Exalted, the Omnipotent,’ exclaimed my uncle – words that can never put to shame anyone who speaks them. We walked on and found ourselves in a hall filled with flour, grain, eatables and so on, and there in the middle of it we saw a curtain hanging down over a couch. My uncle looked and found his son and the woman who had gone down with him locked in an embrace, but they had become black charcoal, as though they had been thrown into a pit of fire.
On seeing this, my uncle spat in his son’s face and said: ‘You deserve this, you pig. This is your punishment in this world, but there remains the punishment of the next world, which will be harsher and stronger.’ My uncle then struck his son with his shoe, as he lay there, burned black as charcoal. This astonished me and I was filled with grief for my cousin and at the fate that had overtaken him and the girl. ‘By God, uncle,’ I said, ‘remove rancour from your heart. My heart and mind are filled with concern; I am saddened by what has happened to my cousin, and by the fact that he and this girl have been left like charcoal. Is their fate not enough for you that you strike your son with your shoe?’ He said: ‘Nephew, from his earliest days this son of mine was passionately in love with his sister. I used to keep him away from her and I would tell myself: “They are only children,” but when they grew up they committed a foul sin. I heard of this and, although I did not believe it, I seized him and reproached him bitterly, saying: “Beware of doing what no one has done before you or will do after you and which will remain as a source of disgrace and disparagement among the kings until the end of time, as the news is carried by the caravans. Take care not to act like this or else I shall be angry with you and kill you.”
‘I kept him away from her and kept her from him, but the damned girl was deeply in love with him and Satan got the upper hand and made their actions seem good to them. When my son saw that I was keeping him from his sister, he constructed this underground chamber, set it in order and provisioned it, as you see. Then, taking me unawares when I had gone out hunting, he came here, but the Righteous God was jealous of them and consumed them both with fire, while their punishment in the next world will be harsher and stronger.’
He then wept and I wept with him, and he looked at me and said: ‘You are my son in his place.’ I thought for a time about this world and its happenings and of how my father had been killed by his vizier, who had then taken his place and who had plucked out my eye, and I thought of the strange fate of my cousin. I wept and my uncle wept with me. Then we climbed back up and replaced the cover and the earth and restored the tomb as it had been, after which we returned to the palace. Before we had sat down, however, we heard the noise of drums, kettle-drums and trumpets, the clatter of lances, the shouting of men, the clink of bridles and the neighing of horses. The sky was darkened by sand and dust kicked up by horses’ hooves and we were bewildered, not knowing what had happened. When we asked, we were told that the vizier who had taken my father’s kingdom had fitted out his troops, collected men, hired Bedouin, and come with an army like the sands that could not be numbered and which no one could withstand. They had made a surprise attack on the city, which had proved unable to resist and which had surrendered to them.
After this, my uncle was killed and I fled to the edge of the city, saying to myself: ‘If I fall into this man’s hands, he will kill me.’ Fresh sorrows were piled on me; I remembered what had happened to my father and to my uncle and I wondered what to do, for if I showed myself, the townspeople and my father’s men would recognize me and I would be killed. The only way of escape that I could find was to shave off my beard and my moustache, which I did, and after that I changed my clothes and went out of the city. I then came here, hoping that someone might take me to the Commander of the Faithful, the caliph of the Lord of creation, so that I might talk to him and tell him the story of what had happened to me. I got here tonight and was at a loss to know where to go when I came to where this dervish was standing. I greeted him and told him that I was a stranger, at which he said: ‘I too am a stranger.’ While we were talking, our third companion here came up to us and greeted us, introducing himself as a stranger, to which we made the same reply. We then walked on as darkness fell and fate led us to you. This is the story of why my beard and moustache have been shaved and of how I lost my eye.
The lady said: ‘Touch your forelock and go.’ ‘Not before I hear someone else’s tale,’ the man replied. The others wondered at his story and the caliph said to Ja‘far: ‘By God, I have never seen or heard the like of what has happened to this dervish.’ The second dervish then came forward and kissed the ground.HE SAID:
Lady, I was not born one-eyed and my story is a marvellous one which, were it written with needles on the inner corners of the eyes of men, would serve as a warning to those who take heed. I was a king, the son of a king. I studied the seven readings of the Quran; I read books and discussed them with men of learning; I studied astronomy, poetry and all other branches of knowledge until I surpassed all the people of my time, while my calligraphy was unrivalled. My fame spread through all lands and among all kings. So it was that the king of India heard of me and he sent a messenger to my father, together with gifts and presents suitable for royalty, to ask for me. My father equipped me with six ships and after a full month’s voyage we came to land.
We unloaded the horses that we had taken on board with us and we loaded ten camels with presents, but we had only travelled a short way when suddenly we saw a dust cloud which rose and spread until it filled the sky. After a while, it cleared away to show beneath it fifty mail-clad horsemen like scowling lions, and on closer inspection we could see that they were Bedouin highwaymen. When they saw our small numbers, and that we had ten camels laden with gifts for the king of India, they rushed at us with levelled lances. We gestured to them with our fingers and said: ‘We are envoys on our way to the great king of India, so do not harm us.’ ‘We don’t live in his country,’ they told us, ‘and are no subjects of his.’ Then they killed some of my servants, while the rest took flight. I was badly wounded and I too fled, but the Bedouin did not pursue me, being too busy sorting through the money and the gifts that we had brought with us.
Having been cast down from my position of power, I went off with no notion of where I was going, and I carried on until I reached the top of a mountain, where I took refuge in a cave until daybreak. I continued travelling like this until I came to a strong and secure city, from which cold winter had retreated, while spring had come with its roses. Flowers were blooming; there were gushing streams and the birds were singing. It fitted the description of the poet:
A place whose citizens are subject to no fear,
And safety is the master there.
For its people it is a decorated shield,
Its wonders being plain to see.
As I was tired out with walking and pale with care, I was glad to get there. With my changed circumstances, I had no idea where to go. Passing by a tailor in his shop, I greeted him and he returned my greeting and welcomed me with cheerful friendliness. When he asked me why I had left my own country, I told him what had happened to me from beginning to end. He was sorry for me and said: ‘Young man, don’t tell anyone about yourself, as I am afraid lest the king of this city might do you some harm as he is one of your father’s greatest enemies and has a blood feud with him.’ He then produced food and drink and he and I ate together. I chatted with him that night and he gave me a place to myself at the side of his shop and fetched me what I needed in the way of bedding and blankets.
I stayed with him for three days, and he then asked: ‘Do you know any craft by which to make your living?’ I told him: ‘I am a lawyer, a scientist, a scribe, a mathematician and a calligrapher.’ ‘There is no market for that kind of thing here,’ he replied. ‘No one in this city has any knowledge of science or of writing and their only concern is making money.’ ‘By God,’ I said, ‘I know nothing apart from what I have told you.’ He said: ‘Tighten your belt, take an axe and a rope and bring in firewood from the countryside. This will give you a livelihood until God brings you relief, but don’t let people know who you are or else you will be killed.’ He then brought me an axe and a rope and handed me over to some woodcutters, telling them to look after me. I went out with them and collected wood for a whole day, after which I carried back a load on my head and sold it for half a dinar. With part of this I bought food and the rest I saved.
I went on like this for a year, and then when the year was up, I came out to the countryside one day, as usual, and as I was wandering there alone I found a tree-filled hollow where there was wood aplenty. Going down into the hollow, I came across a thick tree stump and dug round it, removing the soil. My axe then happened to strike against a copper ring and, on clearing away the earth, I discovered a wooden trapdoor, which I opened. Below it appeared a flight of steps, and when I reached the bottom of these, I saw a door, on entering which I saw a most beautiful palace set with pillars. In it I found a girl like a splendid pearl, one to banish from the heart all trace of care, sorrow and distress, while her words would dispel worries and would leave a man, however intelligent and sensible, robbed of his senses. She was of medium height, with rounded breasts and soft cheeks; she was radiant and beautifully formed, with a face shining in the black night of her hair, while the gleam of her mouth was reflected on her breast. She was as the poet said:
Dark-haired and slim-waisted,
Her buttocks were like sand dunes
And her figure like that of a ban tree.
There are other lines
There are four things never before united
Except to pierce my heart and shed my blood:
A radiant forehead, hair like night,
A rosy cheek, and a slim form.
When I looked at her, I praised the Creator for the beauty and loveliness that He had produced in her. She looked at me in turn and asked: ‘What are you, a human or one of the jinn?’ ‘A human,’ I told her, and she asked: ‘Who brought you to this place where I have been for twenty-five years without ever seeing a fellow human?’ I found her speech so sweet that it filled my heart, and I said, ‘It was my lucky stars that brought me here, my lady, to drive away my cares and sorrows.’ Then I told her from beginning to end what had happened to me and she found my plight hard to bear and wept. ‘I, for my part,’ she said, ‘will now tell you my own story. You must know that I am the daughter of King Iftamus, lord of the Ebony Islands. He had given me in marriage to my cousin, but on my wedding night I was snatched away by an ‘ifrit named Jirjis, son of Rajmus, the son of the maternal aunt of Iblis. He flew off with me and brought me down into this place, where he fetched everything that was needed – clothes, ornaments, fabrics, furniture, food, drink and everything else. He comes once every ten days, sleeps here for the night and then goes on his way, as he took me without the permission of his own people. He has promised me that if I need anything night or day, and if I touch with my hand these two lines inscribed on the inside of this dome, before I take my hand away he shall appear before me. Today is the fourth day since he was here, and so there are six left until he comes again. Would you like to stay with me for five days and you can then leave one day before he returns?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘How splendid it is when dreams come true!’
This made her glad and, rising to her feet, she took me by the hand and led me through an arched door to a fine, elegant bath. When I saw this, I took off my clothes and she took off hers. After bathing, she stepped out and sat on a bench with me by her side. Then she poured me out wine flavoured with musk and brought food. We ate and talked, until she said: ‘Sleep, rest, for you are tired.’ Forgetting all my troubles, I thanked her and fell asleep. When I woke, I found her massaging my feet. ‘God bless you,’ I said and we sat there talking for a time. ‘By God,’ she said, ‘I was unhappy, living by myself under the ground, with no one to talk to me for twenty-five years. Praise be to God, Who has sent you to me.’ Then she asked me whether I would like some wine, and when I said yes, she went to a cupboard and produced old wine in a sealed flask. She then set out some green branches, took the wine and recited:
Had I known you were coming, I would have spread
My heart’s blood or the pupils of my eyes.
My cheeks would have been a carpet when we met
So that you could have walked over my eyelids.
When she had finished these lines, I thanked her; love of her had taken possession of my heart and my cares and sorrows were gone. We sat drinking together until nightfall, and I then passed with her a night the like of which I had never known in my life. When morning came we were still joining delights to delights, and this went on until midday. I was so drunk that I had lost my senses and I got up, swaying right and left, and I said: ‘Get up, my beauty, and I will bring you out from under the earth and free you from this ‘ifrit.’ She laughed and said: ‘Be content with what you have and stay silent. Out of every ten days he will have one and nine will be for you.’ But drunkenness had got the better of me and I said: ‘I shall now smash the dome with the inscription; let him come, so that I may kill him, for I am accustomed to killing ‘ifrits.’ On hearing this, she turned pale and exclaimed: ‘By God, don’t do it!’ Then she recited:
If there is something that will destroy you,
Protect yourself from it.
She added more lines:
You look for separation, but rein in
The horse that seeks to head the field.
Patience, for Time’s nature is treacherous,
And at the end companions part.
She finished her poem but, paying no attention to her words of warning, I aimed a violent kick at the dome. As soon as I had delivered my violent kick, it grew dark; there was thunder and lightning; the earth shook and everything went black. My head cleared immediately and I asked the girl: ‘What has happened?’ ‘The ‘ifrit has come,’ she said. ‘Didn’t I warn you? By God, you have brought harm on me, but save yourself and escape by the way that you came.’ I was so terrified that I forgot my shoes and my axe. Then, when I had climbed up two steps, I turned to look back and I caught sight of a cleft appearing in the earth from which emerged a hideous ‘ifrit. ‘Why did you disturb me?’ he asked the girl. ‘And what has happened to you?’ ‘Nothing has happened to me,’ she said, ‘but I was feeling depressed and I wanted to cheer myself by having a drink. So I drank a little, and then I was about to relieve myself, but my head was heavy and I fell against the dome.’ ‘Whore, you are lying,’ said the ‘ifrit, and he looked through the palace, right and left, and caught sight of the shoes and the axe. ‘These must belong to a man!’ he exclaimed. ‘Who was it who came to you?’ ‘I have only just seen these things,’ she said. ‘You must have brought them with you.’ ‘Nonsense; that doesn’t deceive me, you harlot!’ he cried.
Then he stripped her naked and stretched her out, fastening her to four pegs. He started to beat her to force her to confess, and as I could not bear to listen to her weeping, I climbed up the staircase, trembling with fear, and when I got to the top I put the trapdoor back in its place and covered it with earth. I bitterly repented what I had done, and I remembered how beautiful the girl was and how this damned ‘ifrit was torturing her, how she had been there for twenty-five years and what had happened to her because of me. I also thought about my father and his kingdom, and how I had become a woodcutter, and how my cloudless days had darkened. I then recited:
If one day Time afflicts you with disaster,
Ease and hardship come each in turn.
I walked away and returned to my friend the tailor, whom I found waiting for me in a fever of anxiety. ‘My heart was with you all last night,’ he said, ‘and I was afraid lest you had fallen victim to a wild beast or something else, but praise be to God that you are safe.’ I thanked him for his concern and entered my own quarters, where I started to think over what had happened to me, blaming myself for the impulsiveness that had led me to kick the dome. While I was thinking this over, the tailor came in to tell me that outside there was a Persian shaikh looking for me, who had with him my axe and my shoes. He had taken them to the woodcutters and had told them that, at the call of the muezzin, he had gone out to perform the dawn prayer and had found the shoes when he had got back. As he did not know whose they were, he asked about their owner. ‘The woodcutters recognized your axe,’ said the tailor, ‘and so told him where you were. He is sitting in my shop and you should go to thank him and take back your axe and your shoes.’
On hearing these words, I turned pale and became distraught. While I was in this state, the floor of my room split open and from it emerged the ‘Persian’, who turned out to be none other than the ‘ifrit. In spite of the severest of tortures that he had inflicted on the girl, she had made no confession. He had then taken the axe and the shoes and had told her: ‘As certainly as I am Jirjis of the seed of Iblis, I will fetch the owner of this axe and these shoes.’ He then went with his story to the woodcutters, after which he came on to me. Without pausing, he snatched me up and flew off with me into the air, and before I knew what was happening he came down and plunged under the earth. He took me to the palace where I had been before and my eyes brimmed with tears as I saw the girl, staked out naked with the blood pouring from her sides.
The ‘ifrit took hold of her and said: ‘Whore, is this your lover?’ She looked at me and said: ‘I don’t recognize him and I have never seen him before.’ ‘In spite of this punishment, are you not going to confess?’ he asked. She insisted: ‘I have never seen this man in my life and God’s law does not allow me to tell lies against him.’ ‘If you don’t know him,’ said the ‘ifrit, ‘then take this sword and cut off his head.’ She took the sword, came to me and stood by my head. I gestured to her with my eyebrows, while tears ran down my cheeks. She understood my gesture and replied with one of her own, as if to say: ‘You have done all this to us.’ I made a sign to say: ‘Now is the time for forgiveness,’ and inwardly I was reciting:
My glance expresses the words that are on my tongue,
And my love reveals what is concealed within.
We met as the tears were falling;
Though I was silent, my eyes spoke of you.
She gestured and I understood the meaning in her eyes;
I signed to her with my fingers and she understood.
Our eyebrows settled the affair between us,
And we kept silence, but love spoke.
When I had finished the poem, the girl threw down the sword and said: ‘How can I cut off the head of someone whom I do not know and who has done me no harm? My religion does not allow this.’ Then she stepped back, and the ‘ifrit said: ‘It is not easy for you to kill your lover, and because he spent a night with you, you endure this punishment and do not admit what he did. Like feels pity for like.’ Then he turned to me and said: ‘Young man, I suppose that you too don’t recognize her?’ I said: ‘Who is she? I have never seen her before.’ ‘Then take this sword,’ he said, ‘and cut off her head. By this, I shall be sure that you don’t know her at all, and I shall then allow you to go free without doing you any harm.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, and taking the sword, I advanced eagerly and raised my hand, but the girl gestured to me with her eyebrows: ‘I did not fail you. Is this the way that you repay me?’ I understood her meaning and signed to her with my eyes: ‘I shall ransom you with my life,’ and it was as though our inner tongues were reciting:
How many a lover has used his eyes to tell
His loved one of the secret that he kept,
With a glance that said: ‘I know what happened.’
How beautiful is the glance! How elegant the expressive eye!
The one writes with his eyelids;
The other recites with the pupil of the eye.
My eyes filled with tears and I threw away the sword and said: ‘O powerful ‘ifrit, great hero, if a woman, defective as she is in understanding and in religious faith, thinks that it is not lawful to cut off my head, how can it be lawful for me to cut off hers when I have not seen her before? I shall never do that even if I have to drain the cup of death.’ The ‘ifrit said: ‘The two of you know how to pay each other back for favours, but I shall show you the consequence of what you have done.’ Then he took the sword and cut off one of the girl’s hands, after which he cut off the other. With four blows he cut off her hands and her feet, as I watched, convinced that I was going to die, while she took farewell of me with her eyes. ‘You are whoring with your eyes,’ said the ‘ifrit, and he struck off her head.
Then he turned to me and said: ‘Mortal, our code allows us to kill an unfaithful wife. I snatched away this girl on her wedding night when she was twelve years old and she has known no one but me. I used to visit her for one night in every ten in the shape of a Persian. When I was sure that she had betrayed me, I killed her. As for you, I am not certain that you have played me false, but I cannot let you go unscathed, so make a wish.’ Lady, I was delighted and asked: ‘What wish shall I make?’ ‘You can tell me what shape you want me to transform you into,’ he said, ‘that of a dog, an ass or an ape.’ I was hoping that he would forgive me and so I said: ‘By God, if you forgive me, God will forgive you, because you have spared a Muslim who has done you no harm.’ I went on to implore him with the greatest humility, and, standing before him, I cried: ‘I am wronged.’ ‘Don’t talk so much,’ he said. ‘I am not far from killing you, but I will give you one chance.’ ‘Forgiveness befits you better, ‘ifrit,’ I said, ‘so forgive me as the envied forgive the envier.’ ‘How was that?’ he asked, AND I REPLIED:
It is said, O ‘ifrit, that in a certain city there were two men living in two houses joined by a connecting wall. One of these two envied the other and because of this he used the evil eye against him and did all he could to injure him. So far did this envy increase that the envier lost appetite and no longer enjoyed the pleasure of sleep, while the man whom he envied grew more and more prosperous, and the more the envier tried to gain the upper hand, the more the other’s prosperity increased and spread. On hearing of his neighbour’s envy and of his attempts to injure him, he moved away from the district, leaving the country and saying: ‘By God, I shall abandon worldly things for his sake.’ He settled in another city and bought a piece of land there in which was a well with an old water wheel. On this land he endowed a small mosque for which he bought everything that was needed, and there he devoted himself with all sincerity to the worship of Almighty God. Faqirs and the poor flocked there from every quarter, and his fame spread in that city until eventually his envious neighbour heard how he had prospered and how the leading citizens would go to visit him. So he came to the mosque, where the object of his envy gave him a warm welcome and showed him the greatest honour.
The envier then said: ‘I have something to tell you and this is why I have made the journey to see you. So get up and come with me.’ The other did this and, taking the envier’s hand, he walked to the farthest end of the mosque. ‘Tell the faqirs to go to their rooms,’ said the envier, ‘for I can only speak to you in private where no one can hear us.’ This the envied did, and the faqirs went to their rooms as they were told. The two then walked on a little until they came to the old well and there the envier pushed his victim into it without anyone knowing. He himself then left the mosque and went on his way, thinking that he had killed his former neighbour.
The well, however, was inhabited by jinn, who caught the falling man and lowered him gently on to the bedrock. They then asked each other whether any of them knew who he was. Most said no, but one of them said: ‘This is the man who fled from his envier and who settled in this city where he founded this mosque. We have listened with delight to his invocations and to his reading of the Quran. The envier travelled to meet him and by a trick threw him down into our midst. But news of him has reached the king, who is intending to visit him tomorrow on the matter of his daughter.’ ‘What is wrong with his daughter?’ asked one of the jinn. ‘She is possessed by an evil spirit,’ replied the other, ‘for the jinni Marwan ibn Damdam is in love with her. If this man knew how to treat her, he could cure her, for the treatment is the easiest possible.’ ‘What is it?’ asked the other. ‘The black cat that he has with him in the mosque has a white spot as big as a dirham at the end of its tail. If he takes seven of its white hairs and uses them to fumigate the girl, the evil spirit will leave her head and never return and she will be cured there and then.’
The man was listening to all this, and so it was that the next morning, when dawn broke and the faqirs came, they found the shaikh rising out of the well, and as a result he became a figure of awe to them. Since he had no other medicines, he took seven hairs from the white spot at the end of the black cat’s tail and carried them away with him. The sun had scarcely risen when the king arrived with his escort and his great officers of state. He told his men to wait and went in to visit the shaikh, who welcomed him warmly and said: ‘Shall I tell you why you have come to me?’ ‘Please do,’ replied the king. The man said: ‘You have come to visit me in order to ask me about your daughter.’ ‘That is true, good shaikh,’ the king agreed. ‘Send someone to fetch her,’ said the man, ‘and I hope, if God Almighty wills it, that she will be cured immediately.’ The king gladly sent for his daughter, who was brought tied up and manacled. The man sat her down and spread a curtain over her, after which he produced the seven cat hairs and used them to fumigate her. The evil spirit that was in her head cried out and left. She then recovered her senses, covered her face and said: ‘What is all this? Who has brought me here?’
The joy that the king felt was not to be surpassed. He kissed his daughter’s eyes and then the hands of the shaikh, after which he turned to his state officials and said: ‘What do you say? What does the man who cured my daughter deserve?’ ‘He should marry her,’ they said. ‘You are right,’ said the king, and he married the man to his daughter, making him his son-in-law. Shortly afterwards, the vizier died and when the king asked who should replace him, the courtiers said: ‘Your son-in-law.’ So he was appointed vizier and when, soon after that, the king himself died and people asked who should be made king, the answer was: ‘The vizier.’ Accordingly he was enthroned and ruled as king.
One day, as he was riding out, the envier happened to be passing by and saw the man he envied in his imperial state among his emirs, viziers and officers of state. The king’s eye fell on him and, turning to one of his viziers, he said: ‘Bring me that man, but do not alarm him.’ When his envious neighbour was brought to him, he said: ‘Give this man a thousand mithqals of gold from my treasury; load twenty camels for him with trade goods, and send a guard with him to escort him to his land.’ Then he took his leave of the man who envied him, turned away from him and did not punish him for what he had done.
‘See then, ‘ifrit, how the envied forgave the envious, who had started by envying him, then injured him, followed him, and eventually threw him into the well, intending to kill him. His victim did not pay him back for these injuries but forgave and pardoned him.’ At this point, lady, I wept most bitterly before him and recited:
Forgive those who do wrong, for the wise man
Forgives wrongdoers for their evil deeds.
If every fault is mine,
Every forgiveness should be yours.
Who hopes that his superior will pardon him
Has to forgive inferiors their faults.
The ‘ifrit said: ‘I shall not kill you, but neither shall I forgive you. Instead, I shall cast a spell on you.’ Then he plucked me from the ground and flew up into the air with me until I could see the earth looking like a bowl set in the middle of water. He set me down on a mountain and, taking some earth, he muttered over it, cast a spell and scattered it over me, saying: ‘Leave this shape of yours and become an ape.’ Instantly, I became a hundred-year-old ape, and when I saw myself in this ugly form, I wept over my plight, but I had to endure Time’s tyranny, knowing that no one is Time’s master. After climbing down from the mountain top, I found a wide plain, across which I travelled for a month before ending at the shore of the salt sea. I stayed there for some time until suddenly I caught sight of a ship out at sea that was making for the shore with a fair breeze. I hid myself behind a rock and waited until it came by, when I jumped down into it. ‘Remove this ill-omened beast,’ cried one of the merchants on board. ‘Let’s kill it,’ said the captain. ‘I’ll do that with this sword,’ said another. I clung to the hem of the captain’s clothes and wept copious tears.
The captain now felt pity for me and told the merchants: ‘This ape has taken refuge with me and I have granted it to him. He is now under my protection, so let no one trouble or disturb him.’ He then began to treat me with kindness, and as I could understand whatever he said, I did everything that he wanted and acted as his servant on the ship, so that he became fond of me. The ship had a fair wind for fifty days, after which we anchored by a large city, with a vast population. As soon as we had arrived and the ship had anchored, mamluks sent by the local king came on board. They congratulated the merchants on their safe voyage and passed on further congratulations from the king. Then they said: ‘The king has sent you this scroll of paper, on which each one of you is to write one line. The king’s vizier was a calligrapher and as he is now dead, the king has taken the most solemn of oaths that he will only appoint as his successor someone who can write as well as he did.’
The merchants were then handed a scroll which was ten cubits long and one cubit in breadth. Every last one of them who knew how to write, did so, and then I, in my ape’s form, snatched the scroll from their hands. They were afraid that I was going to tear it and they tried to stop me, but I gestured to them to tell them I could write, and the captain signalled to them to leave me alone. ‘If he makes a mess of it,’ he said, ‘we can drive him away, but if he can write well, I shall take him as a son, for I have never seen a more intelligent ape.’ Then I took the pen, dipped it in the inkwell and wrote in the ruka‘i script:
Time has recorded the excellence of the generous
But up till now your excellence has not been written down.
May God not orphan all mankind of you,
Who are the mother and father of every excellence.
Then I wrote in the raihani script:
He has a pen that serves every land;
Its benefits are shared by all mankind.
The Nile cannot rival the loveliness
That your five fingers extend to every part.
Then in the thuluth script I wrote:
The writer perishes but what he writes
Remains recorded for all time.
Write only what you will be pleased to see
When the Day of Resurrection comes.
I then wrote in naskh:
When we were told you were about to leave,
As Time’s misfortunes had decreed,
We brought to the mouths of inkwells with the tongues of pens
What we complained of in the pain of parting.
Then I wrote in tumar script:
No one holds the caliphate for ever:
If you do not agree, where is the first caliph?
So plant the shoots of virtuous deeds,
And when you are deposed, no one will depose them.
Then I wrote in muhaqqaq script:
Open the inkwell of grandeur and of blessings;
Make generosity and liberality your ink.
When you are able, write down what is good;
This will be taken as your lineage and that of your pen.
I then handed over the scroll and, after everyone had written a line, it was taken and presented to the king. When he looked at it, mine was the only script of which he approved and he said to his courtiers: ‘Go to the one who wrote this, mount him on a mule and let a band play as you bring him here. Then dress him in splendid clothes and bring him to me.’ When they heard this, they smiled. The king was angry and exclaimed: ‘Damn you, I give you an order and you laugh at me!’ ‘There is a reason for our laughter,’ they said. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘You order us to bring you the writer, but the fact is that this was written by an ape and not a man, and he is with the captain of the ship,’ they told him. ‘Is this true?’ he asked. ‘Yes, your majesty,’ they said.
The king was both amazed and delighted. He said: ‘I want to buy this ape from the captain,’ and he sent a messenger to the ship, with a mule, a suit of clothes and the band. ‘Dress him in these clothes,’ he said, ‘mount him on the mule and bring him here in a procession.’ His men came to the ship, took me from the captain, dressed me and mounted me on the mule. The people were astonished and the city was turned upside down because of me, as the citizens flocked to look at me. When I was brought before the king, I thrice kissed the ground before him, and when he told me to sit, I squatted on my haunches. Those present were astonished at my good manners and the most astonished of all was the king. He then told the people to disperse, which they did, leaving me with him, his eunuch and a young mamluk.
At the king’s command, a table was set for me on which was everything that frisks or flies or mates in nests, such as sandgrouse, quails, and all other species of birds. The king gestured to me that I should eat with him, so I got up, kissed the ground in front of him and joined him in the meal. Then, when the table cloth was removed, I washed my hands seven times, took the inkwell and the pen, and wrote these lines:
Turn aside with the chickens in the spring camp of the saucers
And weep for the loss of fritters and the partridges.
Mourn the daughters of the sandgrouse,
Whom I do not cease to lament,
Together with fried chickens and the stew.
Alas for the two sorts of fish served on a twisted loaf.
How splendid and how tasty was the roasted meat,
With fat that sank into the vinegar in the pots.
Whenever hunger shakes me, I spend the night
Applying myself to a pie, as bracelets glint.
I am reminded of this merry meal when I eat
On tables strewn with various brocades.
Endure, my soul; Time is the lord of wonders.
One day is straitened, but the next may bring relief.
I then got up and took my seat some way off. The king looked at what I had written and read it with astonishment. ‘How marvellous!’ he exclaimed. ‘An ape with such eloquence and a master of calligraphy! By God, this is a wonder of wonders.’ Then some special wine was brought in a glass, which he drank before passing it to me. I kissed the ground, drank and then wrote:
They burned me with fire to make me speak,
But found I could endure misfortune.
For this reason, hands have lifted me,
And I kiss the mouths of lovely girls.*
I added the lines:
Dawn has called out to the darkness, so pour me wine
That leaves the intelligent as a fool.
It is so delicate and pure that I cannot tell
Whether it is in the glass or the glass is in it.
When the king read the lines, he sighed and said: ‘Were a man as cultured as this, he would surpass all the people of his age.’ He then brought out a chessboard and asked whether I would play with him. I nodded yes and came forward to set out the pieces. I played two games with him and beat him, to his bewilderment. Then I took the inkwell and the pen and wrote these lines on the chessboard:
Two armies fight throughout the day,
The battle growing fiercer every hour,
But when night’s darkness covers them,
Both sleep together in one bed.
On reading this, the king was moved to wonder, delight and astonishment and told a servant: ‘Go to your mistress, Sitt al-Husn, and tell her that I want her to come here to see this wonderful ape.’ The eunuch went off and came back with the lady. When she saw me, she covered her face and said: ‘Father, how can you think it proper to send for me in order to show me to men?’ ‘Sitt al-Husn,’ he said, ‘there is no one here except for this little mamluk, the eunuch who brought you up, and I, your father. So from whom are you veiling your face?’ She said: ‘This ape is a young man, the son of a king, who has been put under a spell by the ‘ifrit Jirjis, of the stock of Iblis, who killed his own wife, the daughter of King Iftamus, the lord of the Ebony Islands. You think that he is an ape, but in fact he is a wise and intelligent man.’
The king was astonished by his daughter and he looked at me and said: ‘Is what she says about you true?’ I nodded yes and broke into tears. ‘How did you know that he was under a spell?’ the king asked his daughter. ‘When I was young,’ she replied, ‘I had with me a cunning old woman who had a knowledge of magic, a craft she passed on to me. I remembered what she taught me and have become so skilled in magic that I know a hundred and seventy spells, the least of which could leave the stones of your city behind Mount Qaf and turn it into a deep sea, with its people swimming as fish in the middle of it.’ ‘By my life, daughter,’ said the king, ‘please free this young man so that I can make him my vizier, for he has wit and intelligence.’ ‘Willingly,’ she replied, and taking a knife in her hand, she cut out a circle in the middle of the palace. Over this she wrote names, talismans and spells, and she recited words, some intelligible and some unintelligible.
After a time, everything grew dark and the ‘ifrit came down on us in his own shape. His arms were like winnowing forks, his legs like the masts of ships and his eyes like firebrands. We shrank from him in fear, and the princess said: ‘There is no welcome for you,’ at which he turned into a lion and said: ‘Traitress, you have broken the covenant and the oath. Did we not swear that neither of us would oppose the other?’ ‘You accursed ‘ifrit,’ she said, ‘am I bound to one like you?’ ‘Take what comes to you,’ said the ‘ifrit, and in his lion shape he opened its mouth and sprang at the girl. She quickly took one of her hairs, shook it in her hand and muttered a spell, so that the hair became a sharp sword. With this she struck a blow at the lion which cut it in two, but its head turned into a scorpion. For her part, the princess turned into a huge snake which attacked the damned ‘ifrit in his scorpion form. There was a fierce fight, and the scorpion turned into an eagle while the snake became a vulture. For some time the vulture pursued the eagle until it turned into a black cat. The princess then became a brindled wolf and for a time the two creatures fought together in the palace. Then the cat, finding itself beaten, became a large red pomegranate in the middle of the palace fountain. When the wolf came up to it, it rose in the air and fell on the palace floor where it burst, its seeds scattered, each in a different place, until they covered the floor. A shiver ran through the wolf and it became a cock, which started to pick the seeds so as not to leave a single one, but, as was fated, one of them was hidden by the side of the fountain.
The cock then started to crow and to flap its wings, gesturing to us with its beak. We could not understand what it meant and it crowed so loudly that we thought that the palace had fallen in on us. Then it went all around the floor until it saw the grain concealed beside the fountain. It pounced on this to peck it up, but the grain slipped into the middle of the water in the fountain and became a fish which dived down to the bottom. The cock turned into a bigger fish and went down after it. This second fish vanished from sight for some time and then suddenly we heard a loud cry and a scream, which made us shudder. Then out came the ‘ifrit like a firebrand, with fire coming from his open mouth and fire and smoke from his eyes and nose. He was followed by the princess in the form of a huge burning coal and the two fought for a time until both were covered by thick flames and the palace was choked with smoke. We were terrified and were about to plunge into the water, fearing we might be burned to death. The king recited the formula: ‘There is no might and no power except with God, the Exalted, the Omnipotent. We belong to God and to Him do we return.’ He added: ‘I wish that I had not forced her to do this in order to rescue this ape, placing so huge a burden on her to confront this damned ‘ifrit,who cannot be matched by all the ‘ifrits to be found in the world. I wish that I had never known this ape – may God give him no blessing now or ever. I had wanted to do him a favour for God’s sake and to free him from his spell, but my heart has been weighed down by misfortune.’
Meanwhile, I myself, lady, was tongue-tied and could not say anything to him. Then, before we knew what was happening, there was a shout from beneath the flames and the ‘ifrit was there in the hall with us, blowing fire into our faces. The princess caught up with him and blew back fire at him, while we were struck by sparks from both of them. Her sparks did us no harm, but one of his caught me in the eye while I was still in my ape form and blinded it. Another spark struck the king’s face, half of which it burned, together with his beard and lower jaw, while all his lower teeth fell out. Yet another fell on the chest of the eunuch and he was immediately burned to death.
We were sure that we were about to die, but in the midst of our despair we heard a voice extolling God and adding: ‘He has given victory and aid and has confounded those who disbelieve in the religion of Muhammad, the radiant moon.’ This voice belonged to none other than the princess, who had burned the ‘ifrit, reducing him to a pile of ashes. She came up to us and said: ‘Bring me a cup of water.’ When this had been fetched, she spoke some incomprehensible words over it, sprinkled me with the water and said: ‘I conjure you by the Truth, and by the Greatest Name of God, return freely to your original shape.’ A shudder ran through me and suddenly I had gone back to being a man, although I had lost one eye.
The princess then cried out: ‘The fire, father, the fire! I have not much longer to live. I have not been used to fighting with a jinni, although, had he been human, I would have killed him long ago. I was not in difficulty until the pomegranate burst and I picked up the seeds, but I forgot the one which contained the ‘ifrit’s life. Had I picked it up in time, he would have died instantly, but I did not know what fate had ordained. Then he came back and we fought a hard battle under the earth, in the sky and in the water. Every time I tried a spell, he would reply with another, until he tried the spell of fire, and there are few who escape when this is used against them. Then destiny came to my aid and I burned him up before he could burn me, after I had summoned him to accept the religion of Islam. But now I am a dead woman – may God recompense you for my loss.’ Then she cried for help against the fire and went on crying as a black spark leapt up to her breast and from there to her face. When it got there, she wept and recited: ‘I bear witness that there is no god but God and that Muhammad is the Prophet of God.’ We looked at her and all of a sudden she had become a pile of ashes lying beside those of the ‘ifrit. We grieved for her and I wished that I could have taken the place of my benefactress rather than see her beautiful face reduced to ashes, but God’s decrees are not to be revoked.
On seeing what had happened to his daughter, the king plucked out what was left of his beard, struck his face and tore his clothes, as did I, and we both wept for her. The chamberlains and officers of state arrived to find the two piles of ashes and the king lying unconscious. For a time they stood around him in amazement and when he recovered and told what had happened to the princess in her encounter with the ‘ifrit, they were filled with distress and the women and the slave girls all screamed.
After seven days of mourning, the king gave orders for a huge dome to be built over his daughter’s ashes, which was lit with candles and lamps, while the ‘ifrit’s ashes were scattered in the air, subject to God’s wrath. The king then fell ill and was at the point of death, but he recovered after a month and his beard grew again. He sent for me and said: ‘Young man, I passed my days living at ease, protected from the calamities of time, until you came here. How I wish that I had never set eyes on you or your ugly face, for it is you who have brought me to ruin! Firstly, I have lost my daughter, who was worth a hundred men. It was you whom my daughter rescued at the cost of her own life. Secondly, I was injured by fire; I lost my teeth, and my servant died. I recognize that none of this was your fault: all that happened to you and to me came from God – to Whom be praise. But now, my son, leave my land, for you have caused enough suffering, as was fated for me and for you. Go in peace, but if you come back and I see you again, I shall kill you.’
He shouted at me and I left his presence, scarcely believing that I had escaped and without knowing where to go. I thought over what had happened to me – how I had been abandoned on my journey, how I had escaped from my attackers, how I had walked for a month before entering the city as a stranger, how I had met the tailor and then the girl in the underground chamber, and how I had escaped from the ‘ifrit who had wanted to kill me. I relived all my emotions from the beginning to the end and I gave praise to God, saying: ‘It has cost me my eye but not my life.’ Before quitting the city, I went to the baths and shaved off my beard, after which I put on a black hair shirt and poured dust over my head. There is not a day on which I do not weep, thinking of the disasters that have struck me and of the loss of my eye. Every time I think of this, I shed tears and recite these lines:
By God, the Merciful, surely my affair bewilders me;
I do not know the source of sorrows that have surrounded me.
I shall endure until endurance itself cannot match mine,
Continuing until God closes my affairs.
I may be conquered, but I shall not show pain,
As a thirsty man endures in a hot valley.
I shall endure until endurance itself learns
I can endure what is more bitter than aloes,
Itself the bitterest of all,
But bitterer than all this would be for patience to betray me.
The secrets of my secret heart are its interpreter;
At the heart of the secret is my heart’s secret love for you.
Were mountains to feel my sorrow, they would be crushed;
Fire would be quenched and winds would cease to blow.
Whoever claims that Time holds sweetness
Must sometime meet a day more bitter than aloes.
After that, I wandered through the world visiting cities and making for Baghdad, the House of Peace, in the hope of reaching the Commander of the Faithful and telling him what had happened to me. I arrived at the city tonight and there I found this first companion of mine standing in perplexity. I greeted him and talked to him and then our third companion arrived, greeted us and told us that he was a stranger. ‘So are we,’ the two of us said, ‘and we have only just come on this blessed night.’ The three of us then walked together without knowing each other’s stories until fate brought us to this door and we came into your presence. This, then, is the reason why my beard and moustache have been shaven and my eye gouged out.
‘Yours is a strange story,’ said the lady of the house. ‘You can touch your forelock and go on your way.’ ‘Not before I have heard my companions’ stories,’ he replied, at which THE THIRD DERVISH STEPPED FORWARD AND SAID:
Great lady, my tale is not like theirs but is more wonderful and more marvellous, and it explains the reason for the shaving of my beard and the plucking out of my eye. They both were victims of fate, but I brought this fate upon myself, burdening my own soul with sorrow. I was a king and the son of a king. After my father’s death, I succeeded to the throne, ruled justly and treated my subjects well. I was fond of sailing and my city lay on the shore of a broad sea, in the middle of which many large islands were scattered, and I had fifty merchant ships, fifty smaller pleasure boats and a hundred and fifty warships. It so happened, that I decided to go on a pleasure trip to the islands and I set out with ten ships, taking provisions for a whole month. We had been sailing for twenty days when, one night, cross winds blew against us and the sea became very rough, with tumultuous waves, and we were plunged into thick darkness. Despairing of life, I said: ‘A man who courts danger is not to be praised, even if he comes out safely.’ We called on Almighty God and implored His help, but the wind continued to shift and the waves to clash together until daybreak. The wind then dropped; the sea became calm and the sun came out.
Looking out, we found ourselves by an island and so we landed on the shore, cooked and ate a meal and rested for two days. We then sailed on for another twenty days, when the currents turned against us and, as the captain of my ship did not recognize where we were, we told the lookout to climb to the crow’s-nest to scan the sea. He went up the mast and shouted to the captain that to the right he could see fish on the surface, while at some distance away there was a dark shape, showing sometimes as black and sometimes as white. When the captain heard this, he dashed his turban on the deck, tore out hairs from his beard and said: ‘Good news! We are all dead men; not one of us can escape.’ He started to cry, and we all joined in, weeping for ourselves.
I then asked the captain what it was that the lookout had seen. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘we went off course on the day of the gale when the wind did not die down until the following morning. That meant that we were off course for two days, and since that night we have been astray for eleven days, with no wind to blow us back on course. Tomorrow evening we shall come to an island of black stone that is called the Magnetic Mountain. The currents will force us under its lee and the ship will split apart, nails being drawn out to attach themselves to the rock. This is because God Almighty has set in it a secret power that attracts everything made of iron and God only knows how much of the metal is there, thanks to the many ships that have been wrecked on the rock over the course of time. By the shore there is a vaulted dome of brass set on ten columns and on top of this is a rider and his horse, both made of brass. In his hand the rider carries a brass lance and to his breast is fixed a lead tablet inscribed with names and talismans. It is this rider, O king,’ he went on, ‘who kills everyone who comes his way, and there is no escape unless the rider falls from his horse.’
At that, my lady, the captain wept bitterly and we were convinced that we were doomed. Each of us said farewell to his comrades and left his final instructions in case one should escape. We had no sleep that night and when morning came, we found ourselves close to the mountain. Then the force of the currents took us and when our ships were under the cliffs, they split apart, the nails and every iron object aboard being drawn towards the magnetic rock, to which they stuck. By the end of the day, we were drifting in the water around the mountain, and although some of us still lived, most were drowned, while the survivors could scarcely recognize each other, stunned as they were by the force of the waves and the gusts of wind. As for me, Almighty God preserved my life as it was His intention to distress, torture and afflict me further. I clung to a plank that was driven by the wind until it was blown ashore. There I found a beaten track, like a staircase carved in the mountain, leading to the summit. I pronounced the Name of Almighty God and called on Him with supplication. Then, gripping the cracks in the rock, I gradually managed to climb up. At that point, by God’s permission, the wind died down and He helped me to make my way in safety until I reached the summit, where the only path that I could take led to the dome. I went in and then performed the ritual ablution as well as two rak‘as in gratitude to God for bringing me to safety, after which I fell asleep under its shelter. In my sleep, I heard a voice saying: ‘Ibn Khadib, when you wake, dig beneath your feet and you will find a bow of brass with three lead arrows, on which are inscribed talismans. Take the bow and the arrows and shoot the rider on top of the dome, for in this way you will rescue people from great distress. When you shoot him, he will fall into the sea and the bow will drop at your feet. Take it and bury it where you found it, and when you do this the sea will swell higher and higher, until it comes level with the mountain top. A little boat will then come up in which will be a man of brass – but not the one whom you shot. He will come to you with an oar in his hand and you must board his boat, but you are not to pronounce the Name of Almighty God. The man will row you for ten days and bring you to the Sea of Safety, where you will find someone to take you back to your own land, but all this will happen only if you do not mention the Name of God.’
When I awoke, I got up eagerly and did what the voice had told me. I shot the horseman and when he fell into the sea, the bow dropped at my feet and I took it and buried it. The sea then stirred and rose higher until it was level with me on the mountain, and before I had waited long, I saw a little boat making its way towards me, at which I called down praises on Almighty God. When it arrived, I found in it a man of brass with a lead tablet on his breast, inscribed with names and talismans. I boarded it silently, without speaking, and the brass sailor rowed day after day for the full ten days. Then, looking out, to my great joy, I saw the Islands of Safety. Because of the intensity of my joy, I invoked the Name of God, reciting the formula: ‘There is no god but God,’ and crying: ‘Allahu akbar!’ As soon as I did this, the boat tipped me into the sea and then itself overturned.
I knew how to swim, however, and so I swam all that day until nightfall, by which time my arms could no longer support me and my shoulders were tired. Exhausted and in mortal danger, I recited the confession of faith, being sure that I was about to die. A violent wind stirred up the sea and I was carried on by a wave as big as a castle, which hurled me on to the land in accordance with God’s will. I climbed up on the shore, where I squeezed out my wet clothes, spreading them out on the ground to dry overnight. The next morning, I put them on and went to see where I could walk. I came to a valley, only to discover, after walking round the edge of it, that I was on a small island surrounded by sea. ‘Every time that I escape from one predicament,’ I said to myself, ‘I fall into another that is worse.’
While I was thinking over my plight and wishing that I was dead, at a distance I caught sight of a ship with people on it which was making for my island. I got up and sat in a tree, and from there I saw that the ship had come to land, and out of it emerged ten black slaves, each carrying a spade. They walked to the centre of the island where they dug until they had uncovered a trapdoor, which they raised up. They then went back to the ship and returned with bread, flour, butter, honey, sheep and utensils that someone living in the underground chamber would need. The slaves kept on going to and fro from the ship until they had moved all its cargo to the chamber. They then came back bringing the very finest of clothes and in the middle of them was a very old man, a skeletal figure, crushed by Time and worn away. He was wearing a tattered blue robe through which the winds blew west and east, as the poet has said:
What shudders are produced by Time,
And Time is strong and violent!
I used to walk without weakness,
But now I am weak and cannot walk.
The old man’s hand was being held by a youth cast in the mould of splendour and perfection to the extent that his beauty deserved to be proverbial. He was like a tender branch, enchanting every heart with his grace and enslaving all minds with his coquetry. As the poet has said:
Beauty was brought to be measured against him,
But bowed its head in shame.
It was asked: ‘Have you seen anything like this,
Beauty?’ It answered: ‘No.’
They walked on, lady, until they reached the underground chamber and went down into it. They stayed out of sight for an hour or more, and then the slaves and the old man came up, but the youth was not with them. They closed the door of the chamber as it had been before, after which they got into the boat and sailed out of sight. I climbed down from my tree and walked to the pile of earth, where I excavated the soil, removed it and worked patiently until I had cleared it all away. There was the trapdoor, made of wood and as big as a millstone. When I lifted it, I could see under it, to my astonishment, a vaulted stone staircase. Down this I went until I reached the bottom and there I found a clean chamber furnished with rugs and silks in which the youth was sitting on a raised dais, leaning back against a round cushion, holding a fan in his hand, with nosegays and scented herbs set before him. He was alone and when he saw me, he turned pale. I greeted him and said: ‘Calm yourself; don’t be alarmed. I mean you no harm. I am a mortal like you, and the son of a king, who has been brought to you by fate to cheer you in your loneliness. What is your story and how is it that you come to be living alone underground?’
When he was sure that I was a man like himself, his colour returned and he let me approach him. Then he said: ‘My brother, my story is a strange one. My father is a merchant jeweller, who engages in trade, with slaves, black and white, acting for him, sailing to the furthest of lands with his goods, travelling with camels and carrying vast stores of wealth. He had never had a son, but then in a dream he saw that, although he would have one, this son would be short-lived. He woke in the morning after his dream, crying and weeping, and it was on the following night that my mother conceived me, a date that my father noted. When the period of her pregnancy ended, she gave birth to me, to his delight. He gave banquets and fed the mendicants and the poor because, so near the end of his life, he had been granted this gift. Then he summoned all the astrologers and astronomers, the sages and those who could cast a horoscope. They investigated my horoscope and told my father: “Your son will live for fifteen years, after which he will be faced by a danger, but if he escapes, his life will be a long one. The cause of his death will be as follows. In the Sea of Destruction is the Magnetic Mountain, on top of which stands a horse of brass with a rider on whose chest is a lead tablet. Fifty days after this rider falls from his horse, your son will die, killed by the man who shoots the rider, his name being ‘Ajib ibn Khadib.” This caused my father great distress, but he gave me the best of upbringings until I reached the age of fifteen. Then, ten days ago, he heard that the rider had fallen into the sea and that the name of the man who had shot him was ‘Ajib, son of King Khadib. In his fear lest I be killed, my father brought me here. This is my story and this is why I am here all alone.’
When I heard this, I was astonished and I said to myself: ‘I was the man who shot the rider, but by God I shall never kill this youth.’ Speaking aloud, I said: ‘Master, may you be preserved from disease and destruction, and if God Almighty wills it, you shall not see care, sorrow or confusion. I shall sit with you and serve you and then, having kept company with you throughout this period, I shall go on my way and you can take me to some of your mamluks, with whom I can travel back to my own lands.’ I sat talking to him until nightfall, when I got up, set light to a large candle and lit the lamps. After having brought out some food, we sat down to a meal, and we then ate some sweetmeats which I had produced. We sat talking until most of the night had passed, when the youth went to sleep. I put a covering over him and settled down to sleep myself.
In the morning, I got up, heated some water and gently woke my companion. When he was awake, I brought him the hot water and he washed his face and thanked me. ‘By God,’ he said, ‘when I am free from my present danger and safe from ‘Ajib ibn Khadib, I shall ask my father to reward you, but if I die, may my blessing be on you even so.’ I replied: ‘May there never be a day on which evil strikes you and may God will it that the day of my death comes before yours.’ I produced some food and we ate and I got him to perfume himself with incense. Then I made a draughts board for him and, after eating some sweetmeats, he and I started to play, going on until nightfall, when I got up, lit the lamps and brought out some more food. I sat talking to him until only a little was left of the night, when he fell asleep, after which I covered him up and slept myself. I went on doing this for a period of days and nights, becoming fond of him and forgetting my cares. ‘The astrologers lied,’ I said to myself, ‘for by God I shall never kill this boy.’
I continued to serve him, to act as his companion and to talk with him for thirty-nine days until the night of the fortieth day. The youth was full of gladness and said to me: ‘Thanks be to God, my brother, Who has saved me from death, and this is because of your blessing and the blessing brought by your arrival. I pray that God may restore you to your own land.’ He then asked me to heat him water for a bath, which I willingly agreed to do. I warmed up a great quantity of water and brought it to him. He had a good bath, using lupin flour,* and I helped by rubbing him down and bringing him a change of clothes, after which I made up a high couch for him. He came and lay down to sleep there after his bath, saying: ‘Brother, cut me up a melon and dissolve some sugar in its juice.’ I went to the store cupboard and found a fine melon, which I put on a plate. ‘Master,’ I said to him, ‘do you have a knife?’ ‘It is on this high shelf above my head,’ he replied. So I got up quickly, took the knife and drew it from its sheath, but as I went back, I tripped. With the knife in my hand, I fell on top of the youth and, in accordance with the eternal decree, it quickly penetrated his heart and he died on the spot.
When this happened and I realized that I had killed him, I uttered a loud cry, beat my face and tore my clothes, saying: ‘To God we belong and to Him do we return. O Muslims, this handsome youth had only a single night left of the dangerous period of forty days that the astrologers and sages had predicted for him, and his death came at my hands. How I wish I had not tried to cut this melon. This is an agonizing disaster, but it came about in order that God’s decree might be fulfilled.’ After this I got up, climbed the stairs and replaced the soil. Then I looked out to sea and caught sight of the ship making for the shore. I said fearfully: ‘Now they will come and find the boy dead. They will know that it was I who killed him and they will be bound to kill me.’ I made for a high tree, which I climbed, concealing myself among the leaves, and scarcely had I settled there than the black slaves and the youth’s old father disembarked and went towards the hidden chamber. They cleared away the earth, found the trapdoor and went down. There they found the youth apparently asleep, his face glowing with the effect of his bath, dressed in clean clothes but with the knife plunged into his breast. They shrieked, wept, struck their faces, wailing and lamenting. The old man fainted for so long that the slaves thought that he would not survive his son. They wrapped the corpse of the youth in his clothes, covered him in a silken sheet and returned to the boat. Behind them came the old man, but when he saw his son laid out, he fell to the ground, poured earth on his head, struck his face and plucked out his beard, while the thought that his son had been killed caused his tears to flow faster and he fainted again. One of the slaves got up and spread a piece of silk on a couch, upon which they laid the old man and then sat by his head.
While all this was going on, I was in the tree above them, watching what was happening. Because of the cares and sorrows that I had suffered, my heart turned grey before my hair and I recited:
How many hidden acts of grace does God perform
Whose secrets are too subtle to be grasped by clever men?
How often in the morning trouble comes,
While in the evening follows joy?
How many times does hardship turn to ease,
As pleasure follows the sad heart’s distress?
The old man did not recover from his swoon until it was close to evening. Then, looking at the body of his son, he saw that what he had feared had come to pass. He slapped his face and his head and recited these lines:
The loved ones left me with a broken heart,
And floods of tears rain from my eyes.
My longing is for what lies distant, but, alas,
How can I reach this? What can I say or do?
I wish that I had not set eyes on them.
What can I do, my masters, in these narrow paths?
How can I find my solace in forgetfulness?
The blazing fire of love plays with my heart.
I wish we had been joined by death
In an inseparable link.
In God’s Name, slanderer, go slow;
Join me with them while this can still be done.
How pleasantly we were sheltered by one roof,
Living a life of constant ease, until
Arrows of separation struck and parted us.
And who is there with power to endure them?
A blow struck us through the dearest of all men,
Perfect in beauty, unique in his age.
I called him – but the silent voice preceded me.
My son, would that your fate had not arrived.
How may I rush to ransom you, my son,
With my own life, were that acceptable?
I say: he is the sun, and the sun sets.
I say: he is the moon, and moons decline.
The days bring sorrow and distress for you.
I cannot do without you. None can take your place.
Your father longs for you, but you are dead,
And he is helpless. The envious look at us today
To see what they have done; how evil was their deed!
At that, with a deep sigh his soul parted from his body. ‘O master,’ cried the slaves, and, pouring dust on their heads, they wept more and more bitterly. Then they put his body on the ship beside that of his son and, unfurling the sail, they passed out of sight. I came down from the tree, went through the trapdoor and thought about the youth. Seeing some of his belongings, I recited:
I see their traces and so melt with longing,
Weeping in places where they used to dwell.
I ask God, Who decreed that they should leave,
That one day He may grant that they return?
I then went out and passed my time wandering around the island by day and going into the underground chamber by night. In this way a month went by and, as I looked out over the western tip of the island, I could see that with every day that passed the water was drying up. Eventually there was very little of it left to the west and there was no longer any current. By the end of the month, to my joy, the sea had dried up in that direction and, sure that I was now safe, I got up and waded through what water was left until I reached the mainland. There I encountered sand dunes in which camels would sink up to their hocks, but, steeling myself, I managed to cross them, and then far off I caught a glimpse of a fire burning brightly. I made for it, hoping to find relief. Meanwhile I recited:
It may perhaps be that Time will direct its reins
Towards some good – but Time is envious.
Were it to aid hopes and fulfil my needs,
It might bring pleasure after this distress.
When my course brought me nearer, I saw a palace with a door of brass which, when the sun shone on it, gleamed from a distance like fire. I was delighted at the sight and sat down opposite the door. Scarcely had I taken my seat when there came towards me ten young men, wearing splendid clothes, with a very old companion. All the young men had lost their right eyes, and I was astonished by their appearance and at this coincidence. When they saw me they greeted me and asked me about myself and about my story. They were amazed when I told them what had happened to me and of my misfortunes, and they then brought me into the palace. Ranged around the hall were ten couches, each spread with and covered in blue material. In the middle of these was a small couch whose coverings, like those of the others, was also blue.
When we entered the room, each of the young men went to his own couch and the old man went to the small one in the middle. He told me to sit down, but warned me not to ask questions about him and his companions or why they were one-eyed. He then brought food for each man in one container and drink in another and he did the same for me. After that, they sat asking me about my circumstances and my adventures, and their questions and my replies took up most of the night. Then they said: ‘Shaikh, bring us our due.’ ‘Willingly,’ the old man replied, and after going away into a closet, he came back carrying on his head ten trays, each with a covering of blue, and gave one to each of the young men. Then he lit ten candles, fixing one to each tray, and removed the covers. There beneath the covers on the trays was nothing but ashes and grime from cooking pots. All the young men rolled up their sleeves and, with tears and sobs, they smeared and slapped their faces, tore their clothes and beat their breasts, saying: ‘We were seated at our ease but our inquisitiveness did not leave us.’ They went on doing this until it was nearly morning, when the old man got up and heated water for them with which they washed their faces before putting on fresh clothes.
When I saw this, I said: ‘I am astonished, amazed and afire with curiosity.’ I forgot what had happened to me and, unable to keep silent, I asked them: ‘Why have you done this, after we had become pleasantly tired? You are men of sound minds – praise be to God – and it is only madmen who act like this. I implore you by what you hold dearest to tell me your story and why you have lost your eyes and why you smear your faces with ashes and grime.’ They turned to me and said: ‘Young man, do not be led astray by your youth and do not press your question.’ Then they got up and so did I, after which the old man brought out food, and when we had eaten and the plates had been removed, they sat talking until nightfall. The old man then rose and lit candles and lamps, before bringing us food and drink.
We sat talking in a friendly way to one another until midnight. ‘Bring us our due,’ they then told the old man, ‘as it is time for sleep.’ He brought the trays with the black ashes and they did what they had done on the first night. The same thing went on for a whole month while I stayed with them, as every night they would smear their faces with ashes before washing them and then changing their clothes. I was astonished at this and became more and more uneasy, to the extent that I could neither eat nor drink. ‘Young men,’ I said, ‘you must satisfy my concern and tell me why it is that you smear your faces.’ They said: ‘It is better to keep our secret hidden,’ but as I was too perplexed to eat or drink, I insisted that they tell me. ‘This will go hard with you,’ they replied, ‘as you will become like us.’ ‘There is no help for it,’ I said, ‘unless you allow me to leave you and go back to my family, so that I may no longer have to watch all this. As the proverb has it, it is better for me to be far away from you, for what the eye does not see the heart does not grieve over.’ At this, they took a ram, slaughtered it and skinned it, then told me to take a knife, wrap the skin around me and sew it up. They went on: ‘A bird called a rukh will swoop on you and lift you up, before setting you down on a mountain, where you should slit open the skin and come out. The bird will be scared away from you and will go off, leaving you alone. Walk on for half a day and you will find in front of you a strange-looking palace. Enter it and you will have achieved what you wanted, as it was because we went into it that we blacken our faces and each of us has lost an eye. It would take a long time to explain all this, as each of us has a tale to tell of how his right eye was plucked out.’
I was pleased when I heard this, and after I had done what they had instructed, the bird came and carried me off, leaving me on the mountain top. I got out of the skin and walked on until I reached the palace, where I found forty girls, beautiful as moons, at whom no one could tire of looking. On seeing me, they all greeted me warmly. ‘We have been expecting you for a month,’ they said, ‘and praise be to God, Who has brought us one who deserves us and whom we deserve.’ They seated me on a high dais and said: ‘Today you are our lord and master and we are your slave girls, under your command, so give us your orders.’ I was astonished by all this, but they brought me food and we ate together, after which they fetched drink. They clustered around me and five of them spread out a mat around which they set out quantities of scented flowers, together with fruits, fresh and dried. Then they brought wine and we sat down to drink as they sang to the music of the lute.
The wine circulated and such was my delight that I forgot all worldly cares. ‘This is the life,’ I said, and I stayed with them until it was time to sleep. ‘Take whichever of us you choose to sleep with you,’ they said. So I took one of them, with a beautiful face, dark eyes, black hair, well-spaced teeth, perfect in all aspects, with joining eyebrows, like a supple bough or a sprig of sweet basil, astonishing and amazing the mind. As the poet has said:
It shows ignorance to compare her to a tender branch,
And how far is she unlike a gazelle!
How can the dear gazelle have a form like hers
Or honeyed lips like hers – how sweet a drink –
Or her wide eyes, that act as murderers,
Capturing the desperate lover, tortured and then slain?
I yearn for her; mine is a heathen love;
No wonder that the lovesick is in love.
I recited to her:
My eyes see nothing but your loveliness;
Apart from you no thought enters my heart,
For every thought of mine is fixed on you;
In your love is my death and my rebirth.
I then got up and spent a night of unsurpassed pleasure sleeping with her. In the morning, the girls took me to the baths, washed me and gave me the most splendid of clothes to wear. Then they brought out food and drink and we ate and drank, the wine circulating until nightfall. This time I chose another lovely, pliant girl. As the poet describes:
I saw upon her breast two caskets sealed with musk,
Withheld from any lover’s grasp,
Guarded with arrows she shoots from her eyes –
Arrows that strike down any who attack.
I passed the most delightful of nights, sleeping with her until dawn. In short, my lady, I spent a whole year with these girls, enjoying a carefree life, but as the next year began, they said: ‘Would that we had never known you, but if you listen to us you can save yourself.’ They then started to weep and when I asked them what the matter was, they explained: ‘We are the daughters of kings, and we have been gathered together here for a period of years. We go away for forty days and then stay here for a year, eating, drinking, enjoying ourselves and taking our pleasure, after which we go off again. This is our custom and we are afraid that when we leave you, you will not do what we tell you. Here are the keys of the palace, which we are handing over to you. In the palace are forty rooms, thirty-nine of which you may enter, but you must take care not to open the door of the fortieth, or else you will be forced to leave us.’ ‘If that is so,’ I said, ‘then I shall certainly not open it.’
One of them then came to me, embraced me, wept and recited the lines:
If after separation we come close again,
The frown upon Time’s face will turn into a smile.
If a sight of you serves as kohl for my eyes,
I shall forgive Time all its evil deeds.
Then I recited:
When she came close to say farewell, she and her heart
Were allies there to longing and to love.
She wept moist pearls, while my tears, as they flowed,
Were like carnelians, forming a necklace on her breast.
On seeing the girls’ tears, I swore that I would never open the forbidden room, and after I had said goodbye, they went outside and flew away. So I sat in the palace by myself and when evening approached, I opened the door to the first chamber and went in. There I found a virtual paradise, a garden with green trees, ripe fruits, tuneful birds and gushing waters. I felt at rest as I walked among the trees, smelling sweet-scented flowers and listening to the song of the birds as they glorified the One God, the Omnipotent. I looked at apples whose colour was midway between red and yellow, as the poet has said:
An apple’s nature has combined two shades –
The beloved’s cheek and the complexion of the timorous lover.
Then I looked at quinces that put to shame the scent of musk and ambergris, as the poet has said:
Within the quince are all mankind’s delights;
Its fame surpasses every other fruit.
Its taste is wine and its scent diffused musk,
Golden in colour, shaped like the full moon.
I then looked at apricots whose beauty delighted the eye like polished rubies, and after that I left the chamber and locked the door again. Next day I opened the door to the second chamber, went in and found a large space, with date palms and a flowing stream whose banks were carpeted with rose bushes, jasmine, marjoram, eglantine, narcissus and gillyflowers. Breezes passed over these scented flowers and the scent spread in all directions, filling me with perfect happiness. I left this chamber, locked the door behind me and opened the third. Here I found a hall, paved with coloured marble, valuable minerals and precious stones. In it were cages of sandalwood and aloes wood, with singing birds, such as the nightingale, the ringdove, blackbirds, turtledoves and the Nubian song thrush. I was delighted by this; my cares were dispelled and I slept there until morning. Then I opened the fourth door to discover a large chamber with forty closets whose doors were standing open. I went in and saw an indescribable quantity of pearls, sapphires, topazes, emeralds and other precious stones. In my astonishment I exclaimed: ‘I do not think that there is a single king who has all this in his treasury.’ Joy filled me, my cares leaving me, and I said: ‘I am the supreme ruler of the age; my wealth is a gift granted me by God’s grace; the forty girls are under my authority, and they have no other man besides me.’ I went from place to place until thirty-nine days had passed, during which time I had opened all the rooms except for the one whose door I had been told not to open.
This one, which made the number up to forty, preoccupied me and, in order to bring me misery, Satan incited me to open it. I could not hold out against this, and so with only one day left before the girls were due to return, I went to the chamber, opened the door and went in. I found a fragrance the like of which I had never smelt before. It overcame my senses and I fell down in a faint, which lasted for an hour. Then I plucked up my courage and went further into the room, whose floor I found spread with saffron. Light was given by lamps of gold and candles from which was diffused the scent of musk and ambergris, and I saw two huge censers, each filled with aloes wood, ambergris and honeyed perfume whose scent filled the room. I saw a horse, black as darkest night, in front of which was a manger of clear crystal, filled with husked sesame, together with a similar manger filled with rosewater scented with musk. The horse was harnessed and bridled and its saddle was of red gold.
When I saw this, I was astonished and said to myself: ‘There must be something of great importance here.’ Satan led me further astray and so I took hold of the horse and mounted it. It didn’t move and so I kicked it, and when it still refused to move, I took the whip and struck it. As soon as it felt the blow, it neighed with a sound like rumbling thunder and, opening up a pair of wings, it flew off with me, carrying me up into the sky way above the ground. After a time, it set me down on a flat roof and whisked its tail across my face, striking out my right eye and causing it to slide down my cheek. It then left me and I came down from the roof to find the ten one-eyed youths. ‘No welcome to you,’ they said. ‘Here I am,’ I replied. ‘I have become like you, and I want you to give me a tray of grime with which to blacken my face and to let me sit with you.’ ‘No, by God,’ they said, ‘you may not do that. Get out!’
They drove me away, leaving me in dire straits, thinking over the misfortunes that had overtaken me. I was sad at heart and tearful when I parted from them, and I said to myself in a low voice: ‘I was resting at my ease, but my inquisitiveness would not leave me.’ So I shaved off my beard and whiskers and wandered from place to place. God decreed that I should remain safe and I reached Baghdad yesterday evening, where I found these two men standing in perplexity. I greeted them and introduced myself as a stranger. ‘We too are strangers,’ they said, so we agreed to go together, all of us being dervishes and all being blind in the right eye. This, lady, is why I am clean shaven and have lost my eye.
‘You can touch your forelock and go,’ she told him, but he replied: ‘Not before I have heard what these other people have to say.’
The lady of the house then turned to the caliph, Ja‘far and Masrur and said: ‘Tell me your story.’ Ja‘far came forward and told her the story that he had told to the doorkeeper when they entered and when she heard this, she allowed them all to leave. In the lane outside, the caliph asked the dervishes where they were proposing to go as dawn had not yet broken. When they said that they did not know, he told them to come and spend the night with him. ‘Take them,’ he said to Ja‘far, ‘and bring them to me in the morning, so that we may write down what has happened.’ Ja‘far did as he was told and the caliph went up to his palace, but found himself unable to sleep that night.
In the morning, he took his seat on the imperial throne, and when his officials had assembled, he turned to Ja‘far and told him to bring the three ladies, the two bitches and the three dervishes. Ja‘far got up and brought them all, the ladies being veiled. Ja‘far turned to them and said: ‘You are forgiven because of your earlier kindness, although you did not know who we were. I can tell you now that you are standing before the fifth of the caliphs of the Banu ‘Abbas, Harun al-Rashid, the brother of Musa al-Hadi and son of al-Mahdi Muhammad, the son of Abu Ja‘far al-Mansur, the son of Muhammad, the brother of al-Saffah, son of Muhammad. You are to tell nothing but the truth.’
When the ladies heard what Ja‘far had said as spokesman for the Commander of the Faithful, the eldest of them came forward and said to the caliph: ‘Commander of the Faithful, mine is a story which, were it written with needles on the inner corners of the eyeballs of mankind, would serve as a warning to those who take heed and counsel to those who profit from counsel.’ SHE WENT ON:
Mine is a strange story. The two black bitches are my sisters. Three of us were full sisters and these two, the doorkeeper and the housekeeper, were born of a different mother. When our father died, each of us took her share of the inheritance. Some days later, my mother died, leaving us three thousand dinars, and so each of us, I being the youngest, inherited a thousand dinars. My sisters were thus equipped with dowries and each married. Their husbands stayed for a time, but then they collected trade goods and, each of them taking a thousand dinars from his wife, they all went off on a voyage together, leaving me behind. They were away for five years, during which time the men lost their money and were ruined, abandoning their wives in foreign parts.
After five years, my eldest sister came to me in the most squalid of states, dressed as a beggar, with tattered clothes and a dirty old shawl. When I saw her, I didn’t recognize her at first and took no notice of her. Then, realizing who she was, I asked her what had happened, but she said: ‘It is no use talking, sister, the pen of fate has written God’s decree.’ So I sent her to the baths, gave her clothes to wear and said: ‘Sister, you have been given to me in exchange for my father and mother. My share of what the three of us inherited has been blest by God and it has allowed me to thrive and become prosperous. You and I are equal partners.’ I treated her with all kindness and she stayed with me for a whole year.
We were concerned about our other sister, but it was not long before she too arrived in an even worse plight than the eldest. I treated her even better than I had treated her sister and both of them shared in my wealth. Some time later, they told me that they wanted to marry again as they could not bear to remain without husbands. ‘My dears,’ I said, ‘there is no longer any benefit to be got from marriage and good men are hard to find now. I don’t see any advantage in your proposal and you have already had experience of marriage.’ My sisters did not accept that and married without my approval, although I covered all their costs. They then left with their husbands, who very soon afterwards played them false, took all that they had and went off, abandoning them.
Once again they came back to me, covered in shame, apologized and said: ‘Don’t blame us. You may be younger than us but you are more intelligent; we shall never again mention marriage, so take us as your slave girls that we may have a bite to eat.’ ‘Welcome, sisters,’ I said. ‘No one is dearer to me than you.’ And I kissed them and honoured them even more than before. This went on for a full year, after which I decided to fit out a ship to go to Basra. I chose a large one and loaded it with goods, merchandise and everything needed for the voyage. I asked my sisters whether they would prefer to sit at home until I returned from my voyage or whether they would like to come with me. ‘We will go with you,’ they said, ‘as we cannot bear to be parted from you,’ and so I took them along.
I had divided my wealth in two, taking half with me and leaving the other half behind, with the idea that, were the ship to be wrecked and we survived, there would be something to support us on our return. We sailed for some days and nights, but the ship then went astray as the captain had not kept to the right course, and without realizing it, we were sailing in the wrong direction. This went on for some time and over a period of ten days we had fair winds. After that, the lookout climbed up to investigate; he called out: ‘Good news!’ and came down full of joy and told us that he had seen what looked like a city resembling a dove. We were delighted and, within an hour, we could see the place in the distance. We asked the captain its name, but he said: ‘By God, I don’t know. I have never seen it before and never in my life have I sailed on this sea. But things have turned out safely and all we have to do is put in to harbour. Look out your merchandise and if you can sell, sell and then buy up whatever is there; if that does not work, we can rest here for two days, buy provisions and go on with our voyage.’
We put in and the captain went up to the city. He was away for a time and when he came back he told us: ‘Come up and wonder at what God has done to those He created, and seek refuge from His anger.’ We went to the city and when we came to the gate, we saw that it was guarded by men with sticks in their hands, but when we got nearer we found that they had been turned to stone, while in the city itself we found that everyone had been transformed to black stone and there was no trace of life. We were astonished, but as we threaded our way through the markets, we discovered that the traders’ wares and the gold and silver had remained unchanged. This delighted us and, thinking that there must be some mystery here, we split up and walked through the city streets, each concerned to collect her own booty, money and fabrics.
I myself went to the castle, which turned out to be strongly fortified, and I then entered the royal apartments, where all the utensils were made of gold and silver. There I saw the king wearing robes of bewildering splendour, seated with his chamberlains, officers and viziers. When I approached, I found that he was sitting on a throne studded with pearls and gems, wearing cloth of gold, with every jewel gleaming like a star. Standing around him were fifty mamluks, dressed in silks of various kinds, with drawn swords in their stone hands – an astonishing sight. I then walked into the hall of the harem, whose walls were covered with hangings of silk with gold-embroidered branches. The queen was there asleep, wearing a robe ornamented with fresh pearls. On her head was a crown studded with gemstones of all kinds, while around her neck were necklaces of all sorts. Everything she was wearing, dress and ornaments, was unchanged, but she herself had been transformed to black stone.
I then found an open door and went up to it. There were seven steps and these led to a chamber whose marble floor was spread with gold-embroidered carpets. In it there was a couch made of juniper wood, inset with pearls and precious stones, together with two large emeralds, covered by a pearl-studded hanging. There was also a door from which I could see a light shining. I went to stand over it and there in the centre on a small chair I found a jewel the size of a duck’s egg, burning like a candle and shedding light, while spread over the couch was an amazing array of silks. The sight filled me with astonishment. On looking further, I saw lighted candles. ‘Someone must have lit these,’ I said to myself, and I then went to another room and proceeded to search all through the building, forgetting myself in my astonishment at all this and plunged in thought.
I continued exploring until nightfall, but then, wishing to leave, I found I had lost my way and had no idea where the gate was. So I went back to the chamber with the lighted candles, sat down on the couch and, after reciting a portion of the Quran, wrapped myself in a coverlet, trying in vain to sleep but becoming uneasy. Then at midnight I heard a beautiful voice reciting the Quran. This filled me with joy and I followed the sound until I came to a small room whose door was shut. I opened it and looked inside, to find a chapel with a prayer niche in which hung lighted lamps together with two candles. In this chapel a prayer rug had been put down and on this sat a handsome young man with, before him, a copy of the holy Quran from which he was reading.
Wondering how he alone had been saved from out of all the inhabitants of the city, I entered and greeted him. He looked up and returned my greeting, at which I said: ‘By the truth of what you have recited from the Book of God, I implore you to answer my question.’ He looked at me, smiling, and replied: ‘Servant of God, do you tell me why you came here and I will tell you what happened to me and the people of this city and how it was that I escaped.’ So I told him my story, which filled him with wonder, and then I asked him about the townspeople. ‘Wait, sister,’ he said, and he then closed the Quran and put it into a bag of satin, before making me sit beside him. When I looked at him, I saw him to be the moon when it comes to the full, excellent in his attributes, supple and handsome; his appearance was like a sugar stick, with a well-proportioned frame. As the poet has said:
To the astrologer watching by night
Appeared a beautiful form dressed in twin robes.
Saturn had granted him black hair,
Colouring his temples with the shade of musk.
From Mars derived the redness of his cheek,
While Sagittarius shot arrows from his eyelids.
Mercury supplied keenness of mind
While the Bear forbade the slanderers to look at him.
The astrologer was bewildered by what he saw
And the ground before him was kissed by the full moon.
Almighty God had clothed him in the robe of perfection and embroidered it with the beauty and splendour of the down of his cheek, as the poet has said:
I swear by the intoxication of his eyelids,
By his waist and by the arrows that his magic shoots,
By the smoothness of his flanks, the sharpness of his glance,
His white complexion and the darkness of his hair,
His eyebrow that denies sleep to my eye,
Controlling me as he orders and forbids,
By his rosy cheek and the myrtle of its down,
By the carnelian of his mouth, his pearly teeth,
By his neck and by the beauty of his form,
With pomegranates showing on his chest,
By his haunches that quiver whether he moves or is still,
By his slender waist and by his silken touch,
The lightness of his spirit and all the beauty he encompasses.
I swear by his generous hand and by his truthful tongue,
His high birth and his lofty rank.
For those who know of musk, it is his scent,
And he it is who spreads the scent of ambergris.
Compared with him the radiant sun
Is nothing but the paring of a fingernail.
The glance that I gave him was followed by a thousand sighs and love for him was fixed in my heart. ‘My master,’ I said, ‘answer my question.’ ‘Willingly,’ he replied, and he went on: ‘Know, servant of God, that this is my father’s city and he is the king whom you saw sitting on the throne turned into black stone, while the queen whom you saw in the hall is my mother. All the people of the city were Magians, worshipping fire rather than Almighty God. They would swear by fire, light, shadows, the heat of the sun and the circling sphere. After my father had for long been without a son, late in his life I was born to him. He brought me up until I was a grown man, and good fortune always preceded me. With us there was an old Muslim woman who believed in God and His Apostle in secret, while in public she followed the practices of my people. My father had faith in her because he saw that she was trustworthy and chaste, and he showed her great respect, thinking that she was his co-religionary. When I grew older he entrusted me to her, saying: “Take him; give him a good upbringing; ground him in the tenets of our faith and look after him.” When she had taken me, she taught me about the religion of Islam with the obligations of ritual purification and of prayer, and she made me learn the Quran by heart, telling me to worship none but Almighty God. When she had done all this, she told me to keep it hidden from my father and not to tell him lest he kill me. So I kept the secret for a few days, but then the old woman died and the people of the city sank ever further into unbelief and presumptuous error.
‘While they were in this state, suddenly they heard a mighty voice like the rumbling of thunder, calling out in tones that could be heard far and near: “Citizens, turn away from the worship of fire and worship God, the Merciful King.” The people were startled and they all came to my father, the king, and asked: “What is this alarming voice that we have heard, astounding and terrifying us?” “Do not be alarmed or frightened by it,” he replied, “and do not let it turn you from your religion.” Their hearts inclined to what he said; they persisted in their worship of fire and they acted even more wickedly until a year had passed from the first time that they had heard the voice. They then heard it for a second time and, after three years, for a third time – once each year – but they still clung to their beliefs. Then, at dawn one day, divine wrath descended and they, together with their animals and their flocks, were turned to black stone. I was the only one to escape and since that happened, I have been living like this – praying, fasting and reciting the Quran – but I can no longer endure being alone, with no one to keep me company.’
I had lost my heart to him, so I asked him whether he would go to Baghdad with me where he could meet the men of learning and the faqihs, and so add to his knowledge, understanding and grasp of religious law. ‘Know,’ I went on, ‘that the slave who stands before you is the mistress of her people, with command over men, eunuchs and slaves. I have a ship laden with merchandise and it was fate that led us here in order that we should see these things, and it was ordained by destiny that you and I should meet.’
I continued to prompt him to leave with me, flattering him and using my wiles until he agreed to accept. I then spent the night at his feet, unable to believe what had happened to me because of my joy. In the morning, we got up and, going to the treasuries, we took what was both light to carry and valuable, after which we left the castle and went down to the city. There we met the slaves and the ship’s captain, who were searching for me and who were filled with joy when they saw me. I told them, to their astonishment, what I had seen and explained to them the story of the young man and the reason for the curse that had struck the city, as well as what had happened to its people. When my sisters, now these two bitches, saw me with the young man, they became jealous of me and angry, and they secretly schemed against me. We boarded the ship gaily, overjoyed at the profit we had made, although I was more pleased because of the young man. We stayed waiting for a wind, and when it blew fair, we made sail and set off. My sisters sat with me and we started to talk. ‘What are you going to do with this handsome young man?’ they asked. ‘I intend to take him as my husband,’ I replied. Then, turning, I went up to him and said: ‘Sir, I want to say something to you and I would ask you not to refuse me. When we reach Baghdad, our city, I shall propose myself to you in marriage; you shall be my husband and I shall be your wife.’ He agreed to this, and I turned to my sisters and said: ‘This young man is enough for me, so whatever profit others have made, they can keep.’ ‘That is well done of you,’ they said, but secretly they continued to plot against me.
On we sailed with a fair wind until we left the Sea of Fear and reached safety. After a few more days of sailing, we came in sight of the walls of Basra. Evening fell and we settled down to sleep, but then my sisters got up, carried me on my mattress and threw me into the sea. They did the same thing with the young man, and as he could not swim well, he was drowned and God entered him in the roll of the martyrs. I wish that I had drowned with him, but God decreed that I should be saved, and so while I was floating in the sea, He provided me with a plank of wood on to which I climbed. The waves then swept me along until they threw me up on the shore of an island. There I walked for the rest of the night and, when morning came, I saw a track just broad enough for a human foot that connected the island to the mainland.
The sun had now risen and I dried my clothes in the sunlight, ate some of the island fruits and drank from its water. Then I set off on the track and went on walking until I was close to the mainland and only two hours away from the city. Suddenly, I saw a snake as thick as a palm tree darting towards me, and as it came I could see it swerving to right and to left until it reached me. Its tongue was trailing along the ground for the length of a span and it was sweeping aside the dust with the whole length of its body. It was being pursued by a dragon, thin and long as a lance. In its flight the snake turned to the right and the left, but the dragon seized its tail. The snake shed tears and its tongue lolled out because of its violent efforts to escape. Feeling sorry for it, I picked up a stone and threw it at the dragon’s head, killing it instantly, after which the snake unfolded a pair of wings and flew up into the sky until it passed out of my sight.
I sat there in amazement, but I was tired and sleepy and so, for a time, I fell asleep where I was. When I awoke I found at my feet a girl with two bitches who was massaging my feet. I felt embarrassed by her presence and so I sat up and said: ‘Sister, who are you?’ ‘How quickly you have forgotten me,’ she replied. ‘I am the one to whom you did a service, killing my foe and sowing the seed of gratitude. I am the snake whom you saved from the dragon. I am one of the jinn, as was the dragon. He was my enemy and it was only because of you that I escaped from him. After that, I flew on the wind to the ship from which your sisters threw you overboard, and after taking all its cargo to your house, I sank it. As for your sisters, I turned them into two black bitches, for I know the whole story of their dealings with you, but as for the young man, he had already drowned.’ She then carried me off, together with the bitches, and set me down on the roof of my house, in the middle of which I could see all the goods that had been on the ship, not one thing being missing.
Then the snake girl said: ‘By the inscription on the ring of our lord Solomon, on whom be peace, if you do not give each of these bitches three hundred lashes every day, I shall come and turn you into a bitch like them.’ I told her that I would obey, and so, Commander of the Faithful, I have gone on beating them, although I feel pity for them and they realize that this is not my fault and accept my excuse. This is my story.
The caliph was filled with wonder, and he then asked the doorkeeper the reason for the whip scars on her body. ‘Commander of the Faithful,’ she replied, ‘when my father died he left a great quantity of wealth, and soon afterwards I married the wealthiest man of his time.’ SHE WENT ON:
I stayed with him for a year, but he too then died and from him I inherited eighty thousand gold dinars, this being my portion in accordance with Islamic law. I was then exceedingly rich; my reputation spread, and I had ten costumes made, each worth a thousand dinars. As I was sitting one day, in came an old woman with pendulous cheeks, thinning eyebrows, popping eyes, broken teeth and a blotched face. She was bleary-eyed, with a head that looked as though it had been covered in plaster, grey hair and a bent body covered in scabs. Her skin was discoloured and she was dribbling mucus, as the poet has described:
An old woman of evil omen – may God have no mercy on her youth
Or pardon her sins the day she comes to die –
She could lead a thousand bolting mules
With a spider’s web for reins, so domineering is she.
On entering, this woman greeted me and after she had kissed the ground before me, she said: ‘I have a fatherless daughter and tonight is her wedding and the ceremony of her unveiling. We are strangers with no acquaintances in this city and our hearts are broken. Were you to come to the wedding, you would win reward and recompense from God, as the ladies of the city would hear that you were going and would come themselves. You would then mend my daughter’s broken heart, for her only helper is God.’ She then wept, kissed my feet and recited the lines:
Your presence there would honour us,
And that we would acknowledge.
While if you do not come,
We have no substitute and no replacement.
Moved by pity and compassion, I agreed, saying: ‘I shall do something for her, if God wills, and she shall be married in my clothes with my jewellery and my finery.’ The old woman was delighted: she bent down to kiss my feet and said: ‘May God reward you and mend your heart as you have mended mine. But do not trouble yourself to do this service now. If you are ready in the evening, I will come and fetch you.’ She then kissed my hand and left. I was ready when she came back and she said: ‘My lady, the women of the town have come. I told them that you were going to be there and they were delighted and are waiting for you to arrive.’ So I drew my veil and got up, taking my maids with me, and I went on until we came to a lane that had been swept and sprinkled with water, and where a cool breeze was blowing. There we arrived at an arched gate with a strongly built marble dome, leading to the door of a palace that soared from the ground to touch the clouds. Over the gate these lines were inscribed:
I am a house built for pleasure
And consecrated for all time to joy and relaxation.
In my centre is a fountain with gushing waters
That clear away all sorrows.
Flowers border it – anemones and the rose,
Myrtle, narcissus blooms and camomile.
When we got to the door, the old woman knocked, and when it was opened, we went in to find a hall spread with carpets, in which lighted lamps were hanging and candles were ranged, with gems and precious stones. We walked through the hall until we came to a room of unparalleled splendour, spread with silken rugs and lit by hanging lamps and two rows of candles. In the centre of it there was a couch of juniper wood studded with pearls and gems and covered with a buttoned canopy of satin. Before we knew what was happening, out came a girl. I looked at her, Commander of the Faithful, and saw that she was more perfect than the moon at its full, with a forehead brighter than daybreak, as the poet has said:
In the palaces of the Caesars she is a maiden
From among the bashful ones of the Chosroes’ courts.
On her cheeks are rosy tokens;
How beautiful are those red cheeks.
A slender girl with a languid, sleepy glance,
She encompasses all beauty’s graces.
The lock of hair that hangs above her forehead
Is the night of care set over joyful dawn.
She emerged from beneath the canopy and greeted me as her dear and revered sister, giving me a thousand welcomes and reciting:
Were the house to know who comes to visit it,
It would kiss in joyfulness the place where you have trod.
And call out with its silent voice:
‘Welcome to the generous and noble one.’
She then sat down and said: ‘Sister, I have a brother who has seen you at a number of weddings and festivals. He is a young man more handsome than I am, and he is deeply in love with you because of the richness of beauty and grace that you possess. He has heard that you are the mistress of your people, as he is the master of his. Because he wished to attach himself to you, he played this trick in order that I should meet you. He wants to marry you in accordance with the ordinance of God and of His Apostle, and there is no disgrace in what is lawful.’ When I heard what she had to say and saw that I was now inside the house, I told her that I would agree. She was delighted and, after clapping her hands, she opened a door from which emerged a young man in the bloom of his youth, immaculately dressed, well built, handsome, graceful, splendid and perfect, with engaging manners. His eyebrows were like an archer’s bow and his eyes could steal hearts with licit magic, as the poet’s description has it:
His face is like a crescent moon,
Where marks of good fortune are like pearls.
How excellent also are the lines:
Blessed is his beauty and blessed is our God.
How great is He who formed and shaped this man!
Alone he has acquired all loveliness,
And in his beauty all mankind strays lost.
Upon his cheek beauty has written these words:
‘I testify there is no handsome man but he.’
When I looked at him, my heart turned to him and I fell in love. He sat beside me and I talked to him for an hour, after which the girl clapped her hands for a second time. The door of a side room opened and from it emerged a qadi with four witnesses, who greeted us and then sat down. The marriage contract between me and the young man was drawn up, after which the others withdrew. ‘May this be a blessed night,’ said my bridegroom, turning to me. ‘But, my lady,’ he added, ‘I impose one condition on you.’ ‘What is that?’ I asked. He got up and fetched a copy of the Quran and said: ‘Swear that you will not look at any other man but me, or incline to him.’ I swore to that, to his great joy. He embraced me and my whole heart was filled with love for him. Servants then set out a table and we ate and drank our fill. Night fell and he took me to bed, where we continued to kiss and embrace until morning.
We continued in this state for a month, living in happiness and joy, and at the end of that time I asked my husband’s leave to go to market to buy some material. After he had given me permission, I put on an outdoor mantle, and taking with me the old woman and a servant girl, I went down to the market. There I sat in the shop of a young merchant who was known to the old woman. She told me that he was a youth whose father had died, leaving him a huge amount of money. ‘He has a great stock of goods,’ she added. ‘You will find whatever you want, and no trader in the market has finer fabrics.’ Then she told the man to produce for me the most expensive stuff that he had and he replied: ‘To hear is to obey.’ The old woman then began to sing his praises, but I told her: ‘There is no necessity for this. All we want is to get what we need and then to go back home.’
The man brought out what we were looking for and we produced the money for him, but he refused to take anything and said: ‘This is a guest gift for you today from me.’ I said to the old woman: ‘If he refuses to accept the money, then give him back the stuff.’ ‘By God,’ he said, ‘I shall not accept anything from you, and all this is a gift from me in exchange for a single kiss, which is of more value to me than everything that is in my shop.’ ‘What good will a kiss do you?’ asked the old woman, but then she told me: ‘You heard what he said, daughter. What harm will a kiss do you, and you can then take what you want?’ ‘Don’t you know that I have sworn an oath?’ I asked, but she went on: ‘Stay silent and let him kiss you. You will have done nothing wrong and you can take back this money.’ She continued to inveigle me, until I fell into the trap and agreed. I then covered my eyes and hid myself from the passers-by with the edge of my veil. He put his mouth on my cheek beneath my veil and, after kissing me, he bit me hard, piercing the skin of my cheek so that I fainted.
The old woman held me to her breast and when I recovered my senses, I found the shop closed, with her grieving over me and saying: ‘God has averted what could have been worse.’ Then she said to me: ‘Come back to the house with me and pull yourself together, lest you be shamed. When you get home, go to bed, pretend to be sick and cover yourself up. I will fetch you something with which to treat this bite and it will soon be better.’ After a while, I got up, full of care and extremely fearful, and I walked very slowly home, where I acted as though I was sick. At nightfall, in came my husband. He asked: ‘My lady, what happened to you while you were out?’ ‘I’m not well,’ I said, ‘and I have a headache.’ He looked at me, lit a candle and came up to me. ‘What is this wound on your tender cheek?’ he asked. ‘After receiving your permission to go out today to buy materials, I left the house but was pushed by a camel carrying firewood; my veil was torn and, as you can see, I got this wound on my cheek, for the streets are narrow here.’ ‘Tomorrow I will go to the governor,’ he said, ‘and tell him to hang everyone who sells firewood in the city.’ I implored him not to burden himself with the guilt of wronging someone, adding: ‘I was riding on a donkey which threw me and I fell on the ground where I struck a piece of wood which grazed my cheek and wounded me.’ He said: ‘Tomorrow I shall go to Ja‘far the Barmecide and tell him what happened to you, so that he may put every donkey driver in this city to death.’ ‘Are you going to kill everyone because of me?’ I asked. ‘What happened was a matter of fate and destiny.’ ‘It must be done,’ he said, and he kept on insisting on this until, when he got up, I turned around and spoke sharply to him.
At that, Commander of the Faithful, he realized what had happened to me. ‘You have been false to your oath,’ he said, letting out a great cry. The door opened and seven black slaves came in. On his orders, they dragged me from my bed and threw me down in the middle of the room. He told one of them to hold my shoulders and to sit on my head, while another was to sit on my knees and hold my feet. A third came with a sword in his hand and my husband ordered him to strike me with the sword and cut me in two and then said: ‘Let each of you take a piece and throw it into the Tigris as food for the fish. This is the reward of those who betray their oaths and are false to their love.’ He grew even more angry and recited these lines:
If I must have a partner in my love,
Even though passion slay me, I shall drive love from my soul.
I say to my soul: ‘Die nobly,
For there is no good in a love that is opposed.’
Then he told the slave: ‘Strike, Sa‘d.’ When the slave was sure that his master meant what he said, he sat over me and said: ‘Lady, recite the confession of faith, and if there is anything that you want done, tell me, for this is the end of your life.’ ‘Wait a little, good slave,’ I said, ‘so that I can give you my last instructions.’ Then I raised my head and saw the state that I was in and how I had fallen from greatness to degradation. My tears flowed and I wept bitterly, but my husband recited angrily:
Say to one who has tired of union and turned from me,
Being pleased to take another partner in love:
‘I had enough of you before you had enough of me,
And what has passed between us is enough for me.’
When I heard that, Commander of the Faithful, I wept and, looking at him, I recited:
You have abandoned me in my love and have sat back;
You have left my swollen eyelids sleepless and have slept.
You made a pact between my eyes and sleeplessness.
My heart does not forget you, nor are my tears concealed.
You promised to be faithful in your love,
But played the traitor when you won my heart.
I loved you as a child who did not know of love,
So do not kill me now that I am learning it.
I ask you in God’s Name that, if I die,
You write upon my tomb: ‘Here lies a slave of love.’
It may be that a sad one who knows love’s pangs
Will pass this lover’s heart of mine and feel compassion.
On finishing these lines, I shed more tears, but when my husband heard them and saw my tears, he became even angrier and recited:
I left the darling of my heart not having tired of her,
But for a sin that she was guilty of.
She wanted a partner to share in our love,
But my heart’s faith rejects a plural god.
When he had finished his lines, I pleaded with him tearfully, telling myself that if I could get round him with words, he might spare my life, even if he were to take everything that I had. So I complained to him of my sufferings and recited:
Treat me with justice and do not kill me;
The sentence of separation is unjust.
You loaded me with passion’s heavy weight,
Although even one shirt is too much for my strength.
I am not surprised that my life should be lost;
My wonder is how, after your loss, my body can be recognized.
I finished the lines weeping, but he looked at me and rebuffed and reviled me, reciting:
You left me for another and made clear
You were forsaking me; this is not how we were.
I shall abandon you as you abandoned me,
Enduring without you as you endure my loss.
I cease to occupy myself with you,
For you have occupied yourself with someone else.
The severance of our love is set at your door, not at mine.
On finishing these lines, he shouted at the slave: ‘Cut her in half and let us be rid of her, for there is no good to be got from her.’ While we were sparring with each other in this exchange of lines and I had become certain I would die, despairing of life and commending my affair to Almighty God, suddenly in came the old woman, who threw herself at my husband’s feet, kissed them and said tearfully: ‘My son, I have brought you up and served you. I conjure you by this to spare this girl, for she has not committed a crime that deserves death. You are very young and I am afraid lest she involve you in sin – as the saying goes, “Every killer is killed.” What is this slut? Cast her off from you, from your mind and from your heart.’ Then she wept and she kept on pressing him until he agreed and said: ‘I shall spare her life, but I must mark her in a way that will stay with her for the rest of her life.’ On his orders, the slaves then dragged me off, stripped me of my clothes and stretched me out. They sat on me while he fetched a rod from a quince tree and set about beating me. He went on striking my back and sides so severely that I lost consciousness, giving up hope of life. He then told the slaves that when night fell they should take the old woman with them as a guide, carry me off and throw me into my old house. They did as they were told and after throwing me into the house, they went off.
It was not until daybreak that I recovered from my faint and I then tried to soothe my wounds, treating my body with salves and medicines. As you can see, my ribs continued to look as though they had been struck with clubs, and for four months I remained weak and bedridden, tending to my own wounds until I recovered and was cured. I then went to the house that had been the scene of my downfall, only to find it ruined and reduced to a pile of rubble, with the lane in which it stood totally demolished. I could find no news of what had happened and so I came to my half-sister, with whom I found these two black bitches. After greeting her, I told her everything that had happened to me. ‘My sister,’ she said, ‘who is unscathed by the misfortunes of Time? Praise be to God who brought a safe ending to this affair,’ and she started to recite:
This is how Time acts, so show endurance
Whether you be stripped of wealth or parted from your love.
She then told me her own story, of what had happened to her with her sisters and how they had ended up. I stayed there with her and the word ‘marriage’ never crossed our lips. We were then joined by this girl who acts as our housekeeper, going out each day to buy what we need for the next twenty-four hours. Things went on like this until last night. Our sister had gone out as usual to buy our food when she returned with the porter, and the three dervishes arrived shortly afterwards. We talked with them, brought them in and treated them well. After only a little of the night had passed, we were joined by three respectable merchants from Mosul. They told us their story and we talked with them, but we had imposed a condition on all our visitors, which they broke. We paid them back for this breach and asked them all for their stories, which they recited. We then forgave them and they left. Today, before we knew what was happening, we were brought before you.
This is our story. The caliph was filled with amazement at this and had the account written down and placed in his archives. He then asked the first girl: ‘Have you any news of the jinn lady who bewitched your sisters?’ ‘Commander of the Faithful,’ she replied, ‘she gave me a lock of her hair and told me that when I wanted her I should burn a single hair and she would come quickly, even if she were on the far side of Mount Qaf.’ The caliph asked her to produce the lock of hair, which she did, and he then took a single strand and burned it. When the smell of the burning spread, the palace was rocked by a tremor; there was a sound like a peal of thunder and there stood the lady. As she was a Muslim, she greeted the caliph, who replied: ‘Peace be on you and the mercy and blessings of God.’ ‘Know,’ she went on, ‘that this girl sowed the seed of gratitude for a good deed that she did me, for which I could not repay her, when she saved me from death and killed my enemy. I then saw what her sisters had done to her. At first I wanted to kill them but I was afraid that this might distress her, so then I thought that I should take revenge by turning them by magic into dogs. If you now want them to be set free, Commander of the Faithful, I shall release them as a favour to you and to her, for I am a Muslim.’ ‘Do so,’ he said, ‘and after that I shall begin to investigate the affair of the girl who was beaten. If it turns out that she was telling the truth, we shall avenge her on whoever wronged her.’
‘Commander of the Faithful,’ said the lady, ‘I shall release the two and then tell you who it was who wronged this girl and seized her wealth – someone who is your closest relation.’ She then took a bowl of water, cast a spell over it and recited some unintelligible words. She sprinkled water on the faces of the two bitches and said: ‘Return to your former shapes as humans,’ which they did. ‘Commander of the Faithful,’ she then said, ‘the young man who beat the girl is your own son, al-Amin, the brother of al-Ma’mun. He had heard of her great beauty and set a trap for her. But he married her legally and was within his rights to beat her, as he had imposed a condition on her and got her to swear a solemn oath that she would do nothing to break it. Break it she did, however, and he was going to kill her, but for fear of God he beat her instead and sent her back to her own house. This is the story of the second girl, but God knows better.’
When the caliph heard what she had to say and learned how the girl had come to be beaten, he was filled with astonishment and said: ‘Glory be to God, the Exalted, the Omnipotent, Who has granted me the favour of learning this girl’s history and rescued these two others from sorcery and torture. By God, I shall do something that will be recorded after me.’ Then he had his son al-Amin brought before him and he questioned him about the second girl, questions to which al-Amin returned a truthful answer. He then brought in qadis and notaries, as well as the three dervishes, together with the first girl and her two sisters who had been bewitched. He married the three of them to the three dervishes, who had told him that they were kings, and whom he now appointed as chamberlains at his court, giving them all they needed and assigning them allowances, as well as lodgings in the palace of Baghdad. He returned the girl who had been beaten to his son al-Amin, renewing their marriage contract, giving her a great store of wealth and ordering that their house should be rebuilt with the greatest splendour. He himself married the housekeeper and slept with her that night and in the morning he gave her a chamber of her own among his concubines, together with slave girls to serve her and regular allowances. The people were astonished at his magnanimity, generosity and wisdom. His orders were that all these stories should be written down.
[Nights 9–19]