A story is told, O fortunate king, that in the old days a certain king wanted to ride out one day with a number of his courtiers and officers of state in order to show off his splendid trappings to his people. He ordered his emirs and the great men of his state to prepare themselves to accompany him. He ordered the master of his wardrobe to bring out for him the most splendid robes that would suitably adorn him, and he had the best and finest of his pure-blood horses brought out. After this had been done, he chose the clothes that he preferred and took his pick of the horses. Then he put on the clothes, mounted the horse and rode out with his cortège, wearing a collar studded with gems, pearls of all kinds and rubies. As he rode among his men, exulting in his pride and haughtiness, Iblis approached him, put his hand on his nostril and blew arrogance and conceit into his nose. He swelled with pride, telling himself that there was no one like him in the world, and he started to manifest such a measure of haughtiness and vainglory that in his arrogance he would not look at anyone.
A man wearing shabby clothes stood in front of him and greeted him, and when the king failed to return the greeting he seized his horse’s rein. ‘Take your hand away,’ said the king, ‘for you don’t know whose rein it is that you are holding.’ ‘There is something that I need from you,’ said the man. The king replied: ‘Wait until I dismount and then you can tell me what it is.’ ‘It is a secret,’ the man said, ‘and I can only whisper it into your ear.’ The king bent down to listen and the man said: ‘I am the angel of death and I intend to take your soul.’ ‘Give me time to go home to say goodbye to my family, my children, my neighbours and my wife,’ the king asked, but the angel said: ‘You are not going to go back and you will never see them again, for the span of your life is at an end.’ He then took the king’s soul and he fell dead from the back of his horse.
The angel of death went from there to a pious man, with whom Almighty God was pleased. After they had exchanged greetings, the angel said: ‘Pious man, there is something that I need from you and it is a secret.’ ‘Whisper it in my ear,’ said the man, and the angel then told him: ‘I am the angel of death.’ ‘Welcome,’ said the man. ‘Praise be to God that you are here, for I have often been expecting you to arrive and you have long been absent from one who has yearned for your coming.’ ‘If you have any business to do, finish it,’ the angel told him, but the man said: ‘There is nothing I have to do that is more important than meeting my Lord, the Great and Glorious God.’ ‘How do you want me to take your soul,’ asked the angel, ‘for I have been ordered to do this in whatever way you choose?’ ‘Wait, then,’ said the man, ‘until I perform the ablution and begin to pray. When I prostrate myself in prayer, then take my soul.’ The angel said: ‘As I have been ordered to do whatever you want in this matter, I shall do what you say.’ The man got up, performed his ablution and began to pray. While he was prostrating himself, the angel of death took his soul and Almighty God brought it to the place of mercy, approval and forgiveness.
A story is told that a certain king had collected a vast and uncountable quantity of wealth, together with quantities of every kind of thing created in this world by Almighty God, in order to make life luxurious for himself. As he wanted to give himself the opportunity to enjoy the treasures he had collected, he built for himself a lofty palace, towering into the air, such as was suitable for kings. He gave it two strong gates and posted in it as many servants, soldiers and gatekeepers as he wanted.
One day, he ordered the cook to prepare a delicious meal and he brought together his family, his retainers, his companions and his servants to enjoy his hospitality by sharing the meal with him. He took his seat on his royal throne, reclining on a cushion, and he said to himself: ‘My soul, you have collected all the good things there are in this world and now you can take your ease and taste them in the enjoyment of a long life and prosperous fortune.’ But before he had finished what he was saying a man arrived from outside the palace wearing tattered clothes with a bag hung round his neck, apparently a beggar asking for food. When he came, he knocked loudly with the door-ring, almost shaking the castle and rocking the throne.
The servants rushed to the gate in fear and shouted: ‘Damn you, what is this display of bad manners? Wait until the king has eaten and we will give you some of the leftovers.’ He said: ‘Tell your master to come out to me, for I have business with him that is of the greatest importance.’ ‘Go away, you feeble-witted fellow,’ they said. ‘Who are you to order our master to come out to you?’ ‘Tell him what I said,’ he insisted, and so they went to the king and told him what had happened. ‘Why didn’t you scare him off,’ said the king, ‘drawing your swords and driving him away?’ There was then an even louder knock on the door, at which the servants rushed to attack the man with clubs and weapons, but he shouted to them: ‘Stay where you are. I am the angel of death.’ They were frightened out of their wits, and as they trembled with terror they lost control of their limbs. ‘Tell him to take someone else in my place,’ said the king, but the angel said: ‘I shall take no substitute for you. It is for you that I have come, to part you from the treasures that you have collected and the wealth that you have acquired and stored up.’
The king then sighed deeply and, bursting into tears, he said: ‘May God curse the wealth that has deceived me and harmed me by keeping me from worshipping my Lord. I used to think that it would help me, but now it is a source of grief and harm to me as I have to leave it empty-handed and it will pass to my enemies.’ God then allowed his wealth to speak and it said: ‘Why do you curse me? Rather, curse yourself. God created both me and you from dust, and He placed me in your hands so that through me you could make provision for your afterlife and give me as alms to the poor, the wretched and the weak, and that you could use me for the building of hospices, mosques, dykes and bridges. I would then have been a help to you in the next world, but as it is you collected me, stored me up and spent me on your own desires, showing ingratitude rather than thankfulness to me. Now you have bequeathed me to your enemies, leaving yourself remorse and regret, but what fault is it of mine and why should you abuse me?’
The angel of death then took the king’s soul as he sat on his throne before he had eaten his meal, and he fell down dead. God Almighty has said: ‘When they were rejoicing at what they had been given, We took them suddenly and they were in despair.’*
A story is told that a powerful king of the Israelites was sitting one day on his royal throne when he saw a man coming in through the palace door with an appearance that was both unpleasing and awesome. The king shrank back in fear at this as the man approached, but then, jumping up in front of him, he said: ‘Man, who are you and who gave you permission to enter my palace and come into my presence?’ ‘It was the master of the house who ordered me to come,’ said the man. ‘No chamberlain can keep me out; I need no permission to come into the presence of kings; I fear the power of no ruler or the number of his guards. I am the one from whom no tyrant can find refuge, nor can any flee from my grasp. I am the destroyer of delights and the parter of friends.’ When the king heard this, he fell on his face and his whole body trembled. At first he lost consciousness, but when he recovered he said: ‘Are you the angel of death?’ ‘Yes,’ said the angel, and the king then said: ‘Allow me a single day’s delay so that I may ask pardon for my sins and seek forgiveness from my Lord, returning the wealth that is in my treasuries to its owners lest I have to endure the hardship of having to account for it and the pain of punishment for it.’ The angel said: ‘Impossible – there is no way in which you can be granted this. How can I allow you any delay when the days of your life have been counted, your breaths numbered and all your minutes set down in the book of fate?’ ‘Give me just one hour,’ the king said, but the angel replied: ‘The hour has been accounted for. It passed while you were still paying no attention and you have used up all your breaths except for one.’ ‘Who will be with me when I am carried to my grave?’ asked the king, and the angel said: ‘Nothing will be with you except for your own deeds.’ ‘I have no good deeds,’ the king said. ‘There is no doubt that your resting place will be hellfire and you will experience the anger of the Omnipotent God,’ said the angel. He then took the king’s soul and the king fell to the ground from his throne. There followed a great outcry among his subjects; voices were raised and there was loud wailing and weeping, but had they known what awaited the king of God’s anger, their show of grief would have been even more intense and bitter.
A story is told that Alexander the Great passed by a people who were so poor that they owned no worldly goods at all. They used to bury their dead in graves dug at the doors of their houses, which they would constantly visit to clean and to sweep away the dust, and where they would worship Almighty God. Their only food was grass, together with plants that they got from the earth. Alexander sent them an envoy summoning their king to visit him, but he refused to answer the call, saying: ‘I have no need of Alexander.’ Alexander then visited him and asked about the condition of his people, saying: ‘I don’t see that any of you has any gold or silver or any worldly goods,’ to which the king replied: ‘No one is satisfied with the goods of this world.’ ‘Why do you dig graves by your house doors?’ Alexander asked, and the king replied: ‘This is so that we may have them before our eyes and remind ourselves of death as we look at them. In this way, as love for this world leaves our hearts, we shall not forget the world to come, and we shall not be distracted by it from our worship of Almighty God.’ ‘How is it that you eat grass?’ asked Alexander. ‘We do not want to make our bellies into graves for animals,’ said the king, ‘and the pleasure to be got from food goes no further than the throat.’
The king then reached out and produced a human skull, which he placed before Alexander. ‘Alexander,’ he said, ‘do you know whose skull this is?’ When Alexander said no, the king told him: ‘This belonged to one of the kings of the world who used to treat his subjects unjustly and oppressively, wronging the weak and spending his days in amassing ephemeral goods. God took his soul and condemned him to hellfire. This is his skull.’ He then reached out and put another skull before Alexander, again asking him whether he knew whose it was. When Alexander said no, the king said: ‘This belonged to a ruler who treated his subjects justly and with compassion. When God took his soul, He placed him in Paradise and exalted him.’ He then laid his hand on Alexander’s head and said: ‘Which of these two, do you think, will be yours?’
Alexander wept bitterly, clasped the king to his breast and said: ‘If you would like to stay with me, I would hand over the vizierate to you and share my kingdom with you.’ ‘Never, never!’ exclaimed the king. ‘I have no desire for this.’ ‘Why is that?’ asked Alexander. ‘Because all mankind are your enemies, thanks to the wealth and the kingdom that you have been given,’ replied the king, ‘whereas for me they are all true friends because I am content with my poverty. I have no kingdom; there is nothing that I want or seek in the world. I have no ambition here and set store by nothing except contentment.’
Alexander clasped him to his breast, kissed him between the eyes and went on his way.
A story is told that King Anushirwan the Just pretended one day that he was ill and sent out some of his trusted and reliable officers with orders to go through all the regions and quarters of his realm to look for an old brick in a ruined village, telling them that the doctors had prescribed this as a cure for his ailment. They toured every part of his empire but had to come back and tell him: ‘In the whole of your realm we have found no ruined place and no old brick.’ This delighted Anushirwan, who gave thanks to God and said: ‘I wanted to have my lands inspected and surveyed to see whether there were still any ruins there that needed restoration, but as every single place now is flourishing, then everything that needs to be done in my kingdom has been completed; it is in good order and its prosperity has reached the stage of perfection.’
In the old days such kings used to concern themselves to do their best to bring prosperity to their realms, knowing that the more prosperous they were, the better off their subjects would be. They also knew that the wise men and philosophers were undeniably right in saying that religion depends on the king, the king on his troops, his troops on money, money on the prosperity of the land, and this prosperity on the justice with which the subjects are treated. As a result they would not allow anyone to act oppressively or unjustly, nor would they permit their retainers to commit acts of aggression, knowing, as they did, that their subjects would not endure injustice and that all the lands would be ruined if they fell into the hands of wrongdoers. If that happened, their inhabitants would disperse and escape to the lands of some other ruler. Their own kingdoms would thus be diminished, revenues would fall, treasuries would be emptied and the lives of their subjects would be made wretched. They would have no fondness for an unjust ruler and would constantly be cursing him; he would get no enjoyment from his kingdom and there would be no halting the process of his destruction.
[Nights 462–5]