Four meleks (kings) ruled the great realm—the first in Nubia, the second in Habesch, the third in Kordofan, and the fourth in For.
The wealthiest of these was the Nap of Naphta, in Kordofan. His capital lay in the direction of Hophrat-en-Nahas. The king owned all the gold and copper. His gold and copper was transported to Nubia, where the great kings of the west searched it out. Ambassadors came over the sea from the east and, in the south, the king ruled many peoples, who forged iron weapons for him and sent slaves. Thousands of these lived at the Court of the Nap.
The Nap of Naphta was the richest man on earth. But his life was shorter and sadder than that of all men. For each Nap of Naphta could rule his land for only a certain number of years. During his reign the priests studied the stars every evening, offered sacrifices, and lit fires. They could never stop their praying and their sacrifices, otherwise they would lose sight of the path taken by a star and they wouldn’t know when the king was to be killed in accordance with their law. It continued like this for a long time. Day after day, year after year, the priests studied the stars and recognized the day on which the king was to be killed.
And once again the day of the king’s death arrived. They broke the hind legs of the bulls. All the fires in the kingdom were put out. The women were closed inside their houses. The priests lit the new fire. They called the new king. The new king was the son of the sister of the one who had just been killed. The new king was called Akaf; it was under him that a change was made affecting the kingdom’s ancient institutions. But the people say this change was the reason for the ruin of Naphta.
The first act of the new Nap was to decide who, at the established time, would accompany him in death. The Nap chose these companions from among those who were dearest to him. Sometime earlier, a king from the Far East had sent a man over the sea to Naphta who was famous for his skill as a storyteller. The man’s name was Far-li-mas. That was how Far-li-mas had arrived at the Court of Nap along with some slaves. King Akaf had seen him. And King Akaf liked Far-li-mas. And King Akaf said: “This man will be my first companion. For all of the time I have left before my end, he will entertain me with his stories. And he will also cheer me after my death.”
When Far-li-mas heard the king’s decision he was not afraid. He just said to himself: “God wills it.”
At that time it was the custom in Naphta to keep a fire perpetually burning, as is still done in the remote lands of For. The priests chose a boy and a girl to keep this fire always alight. They had to guard the fire and lead a chaste life. And they, too, were killed, not with the king, but when the new fire was lit. At the moment when the new fire was lit for King Akaf, the priests chose the new king’s youngest sister to keep the fire. Her name was Sali (at least that was what they called her—her full name was Sali-fu-Hamr). When Sali heard the choice had fallen on her, she was afraid. And then Sali felt a great fear of death.
For a certain period the king lived happily and full of joy; for he enjoyed the wealth and splendor of his country; he spent each evening with friends, and with foreigners who had come as ambassadors to the land of Naphta. But one evening God sent him the thought that each of those joyful days was taking him one day closer to certain death. The king was afraid. The king tried to banish the thought. But he couldn’t. King Akaf became very sad. And then God sent him a second thought: that he should send for Far-li-mas and get him to tell a story.
Far-li-mas was called. Far-li-mas came. The king said: “Far-li-mas, the day has arrived when you must cheer me. Tell me a story.” Far-li-mas said: “No sooner said than done.” Far-li-mas began his story. King Akaf listened. The guests listened. The king and the guests forgot about drinking. They forgot about breathing. The slaves forgot about serving. Far-li-mas’s story was like hashish. When he had finished, all were swathed in a benign unconsciousness. King Akaf had forgotten his thoughts about death. None of those present had realized that Far-li-mas’s story had lasted from the evening to the morning. When the guests left, the sun was already high.
Next day King Akaf and his guests were impatient for evening to arrive, for Far-li-mas to begin his story. Now Far-li-mas had to tell a story every evening. News about Far-li-mas’s tales spread around the Court, the capital, the country. But the tales of Far-li-mas were better every night. And each day the king gave him a fine robe, the guests and the ambassadors presented him with gold and precious stones. When he wandered through the streets, he was followed by a swarm of slaves. The people loved him. The people began to bare their breasts before him.
News of the wondrous stories of Far-li-mas reached far and wide. Sali also came to hear of it. Sali sent a message to her brother the king: “Let me hear the stories of Far-li-mas just once.” The king replied: “Your wish is my command.” And Sali came. Sali wanted to hear the story. Far-li-mas saw Sali. For an instant, Far-li-mas lost his senses. Far-li-mas could see only Sali. Sali could see only Far-li-mas. King Akaf said: “Why do you say nothing? Do you not know any more stories?” Far-li-mas tore his gaze from Sali and began his story. Far-li-mas’s story was first like hashish when it produces a light stupor, then it was like hashish that makes us sleepy and fall into unconsciousness. After some time the guests fell asleep, King Akaf fell asleep. They now continued to hear the story in their dreams, until they were overcome by total ecstasy. Only Sali kept her eyes open. Her eyes were fixed on Far-li-mas. Her eyes absorbed the whole of Far-li-mas. Sali was overcome by Far-li-mas.
As soon as Far-li-mas had finished, he stood up. Sali stood up. Far-li-mas went toward Sali. Sali went toward Far-li-mas. Far-li-mas embraced Sali. Sali embraced Far-li-mas and said: “We do not want to die.” Far-li-mas smiled into Sali’s eyes and said: “The will is in you. Show me the way.” Sali said: “Now leave me. I will seek the way. When I have found it, I will call you.” Sali and Far-li-mas parted. The king and his guests slept.
Next day, Sali went to the chief priest and said: “Who decides on which day the old fire has to be put out and the new one lit?” The priest said: “God decides.” Sali said: “How does God communicate his will?” The priest said: “Every evening we study the stars. We never lose sight of them. Every night we see the moon and every day we know what star moves closer or farther away from her. And in this way we know the hour.” Sali said: “Do you have to do it every night? What happens if one night you see nothing?” The priest said: “If one night we see nothing, we have to offer a sacrifice. If for many nights we see nothing, then we would no longer know how to calculate the hour.” Sali said: “Then you would not know at what moment you had to put out the fire?” The priest said: “No, then we would no longer be able to carry out our task.” Sali said: “Great are the works of God. But the greatest of them is not his writing in the sky. The greatest of them is life on earth. I came to realize it last night.” The priest said: “What do you mean?” Sali said: “God has given Far-li-mas the gift of telling stories, as he had never done before. This is greater than the writing in the sky.” The chief priest said: “You are wrong.” Sali said: “You know the moon and the stars. Have you ever heard the stories of Far-li-mas?” The priest said: “No, I have never heard them.” Sali said: “Then how can you make a judgment? I tell you: listening to him, all of you will forget to study the stars.” The chief priest said: “Do you really say this, sister of the king?” Sali said: “Then show me I’m wrong, that the writing in the sky is more powerful and greater than life on earth.” The priest said: “I shall prove it.”
The chief priest had a message sent to King Akaf: “Please allow the priests to come this evening to your palace to hear the stories of Far-li-mas from sunset until the moon rises.” King Akaf replied: “I agree.” Sali had a message sent to Far-li-mas: “Today you must tell a story like yesterday. This is the way.”
When evening came, King Akaf assembled his guests and the ambassadors. Sali came and sat beside him. All the priests came. They bared their breasts and fell to the ground. The chief priest said: “The stories of this Far-li-mas must be God’s most splendid work.” King Akaf said: “Decide this for yourselves.” The chief priest said: “Forgive us, our king, if we leave your house when the moon rises to carry out our duties.” King Akaf said: “Do as God wills.” The priests sat down. All of the guests and ambassadors sat down. The hall was full. Far-li-mas came forward. King Akaf said: “Begin, my companion in death.”
Far-li-mas looked at Sali. Sali looked at Far-li-mas. King Akaf said: “Why do you say nothing? Do you not know any more stories?” Far-li-mas turned his eyes away from Sali. Far-li-mas commenced. His story began at sunset. His story was like hashish, which blurs and entrances. His story became like hashish, which leads to languor. His story became like hashish, which induces a fatal swoon. When the moon rose, King Akaf, his guests and the ambassadors were dozing, the priests were all stretched out fast asleep. Only Sali was awake, and she absorbed with her gaze the ever sweeter words that came from Far-li-mas’s lips.
Far-li-mas reached the end. He stood up. Far-li-mas went toward Sali. Sali went toward Far-li-mas. Sali said: “Let me kiss these lips from which such sweet words come.” They kissed each other’s lips passionately. Far-li-mas said: “Let me embrace this body, which on seeing it gives me strength.” And they embraced, wrapping their arms and legs around each other, and they lay there in the midst of so many sleeping figures, and were happy until their hearts almost broke. But Sali rejoiced and said: “Do you see the way?” Far-li-mas said: “I see it.” They left. In the palace only the sleeping figures remained.
Next day, Sali went to the chief priest and said: “Now tell me if you were right to condemn my words.” The priest said: “I will not give you an answer today. We shall go once more to listen to this Far-li-mas. For yesterday we were not adequately prepared.” Sali said: “All right.” The priests performed their sacrifices and recited their prayers. They broke the fetlocks of many oxen. Throughout the day the prayers in the temple were never interrupted. In the evening the priests returned to the palace of King Akaf. In the evening Sali sat once again beside her brother, King Akaf. In the evening Far-li-mas resumed his story. And before daybreak everyone was asleep in the ecstasy of listening. But in the middle of all of them sat Sali and Far-li-mas, and they sucked happiness from each other’s lips and wrapped their arms and legs around each other. And so it continued, day after day.
First of all the news of Far-li-mas’s stories spread among the people. Then it was rumored the priests were neglecting the nightly sacrifices and prayers. Great anxiety took hold of everyone. One day an important man of the city met the chief priest. The important man said to the priest: “When are we celebrating the next feast this year? I would like to make a journey and to be back in time for the feast. How long is it before the feast day?” The priest was embarrassed. It was now several days since he had seen the moon and the stars. He no longer knew anything about their course. The priest said: “Wait another day and I’ll be able to tell you.” The important man said: “Thank you. Tomorrow I’ll come back to you.”
The chief priest called together his priests and said: “Which of you has recently seen the course of the stars?” None of the priests answered, since all had been listening to the stories of Far-li-mas. The chief priest asked again: “Has not one of you seen the course of the stars and the position of the moon?” All of the priests remained silent, until one of them, who was very old, stood up and said: “We were all in ecstasy, lying there before Far-li-mas. No one can tell you on what day the feasts have to be celebrated, when the fire has to be extinguished and when the new one will have to be lit.” The chief priest shuddered and said: “How could all this have happened? What shall I say to the people?” The old priest said: “It is God’s will. But if this Far-li-mas has not been sent by God, then have him killed. For, so long as he lives and speaks, everyone will stay listening to him.” The chief priest said: “What must I say to the people?” Everyone remained silent. Then they parted.
The chief priest went to Sali. And he said to her: “What words did you say on the first day?” Sali said: “I said: ‘God’s works are great. But the greatest of them is not the writing in the sky, but life on earth.’ You criticized my words, calling them ‘wrong.’ Tell me today whether I have lied.” The priest said: “Far-li-mas is against God. Far-li-mas must die.” Sali said: “Far-li-mas is the companion in death of King Akaf.” The priest said: “I will speak with King Akaf.” Sali said: “God is in my brother, King Akaf. Ask him what are his thoughts.” The chief priest went to King Akaf: his sister, Sali, was sitting beside him. The priest bared himself before King Akaf, prostrated himself and said: “Forgive me, King Akaf!” The king said: “Tell me what is troubling you.” The priest replied: “Tell me about your companion in death, this Far-li-mas.” The king said: “In the beginning God sent me the thought about my death, about its day that was approaching, and I was terrified. Then God sent me the thought about this Far-li-mas, who had been sent as a gift from the Orient beyond the sea. With the first thought God darkened my mind. With the second thought he cheered my soul and made me and others happy! For this I have given Far-li-mas many robes. My friends have given him gold and precious stones. He has made great donations to the people. Now he is rich, as becomes him, and the people love him as they love me.” The chief priest said: “Far-li-mas must die. Far-li-mas is destroying order.” King Akaf said: “I am to die before Far-li-mas.” The chief priest said: “God will decide the matter.” King Akaf said: “So it is. All the people shall see it.” The chief priest went away. Sali spoke to King Akaf: “King Akaf, my brother, the way is coming to an end. The companion of your death will be the person who shall awaken you to life; but I want him to be the happiness of my existence.” King Akaf said: “Then take him, sister Sali.”
Messengers ran around all districts of the city announcing that Far-li-mas would be speaking that evening in the main square in front of the people. In the main square, a veiled chair was erected for the king between the king’s palace and the houses of the priests. When it was evening, the people gathered from every part and settled themselves in a circle. Thousands and thousands of people had assembled. The priests came and took their place. The guests and the ambassadors came and took their place. Sali sat beside the veiled King Akaf. Far-li-mas was called.
Far-li-mas came. All of Far-li-mas’s servants followed him. They were all dressed in magnificent robes. Far-li-mas’s servants sat beside the priests. Far-li-mas prostrated himself before King Akaf. Then he took his place.
The chief priest stood up and said: “Far-li-mas has destroyed order at Naphta. Tonight he will show whether this was God’s will.” The priest sat down. Far-li-mas stood up. He looked Sali in the eyes. Far-li-mas turned his gaze from Sali and toward the crowd. Far-li-mas looked at the priests. Far-li-mas said: “I am a servant of God and believe he abhors all evil in the hearts of men. Tonight God shall decide.” Far-li-mas began his story. The words that came from Far-li-mas’s mouth were as sweet as honey. His voice penetrated the listeners like the first summer rain on parched land. From Far-li-mas’s mouth came a perfume more subtle than musk or incense. Far-li-mas’s head shone like a torch, alone in the black of night.
Far-li-mas’s story was at first like hashish, which makes wakefulness happy. Then it was like hashish, which makes dreams delirious. As morning approached Far-li-mas raised his voice. His words swelled like the Nile that rises in the hearts of men. For some his words brought peace, but for others they were as terrifying as the apparition of Azrael, the angel of death. Happiness overwhelmed the souls of some, horror the hearts of others. As morning drew ever nearer, the more powerful his voice became, the more its sound echoed in the people. The hearts of the people rose against each other, as in battle. They raged against each other, like the clouds in the sky on a stormy night. Flashes of anger clashed with thunderbolts of fury. When the sun rose, Far-li-mas reached the end of his story. The confused minds of the people were overwhelmed with indescribable amazement. For when those still alive looked around them, their eyes fell on the priests. The priests were lying on the ground, dead.
Sali stood up. Sali prostrated herself before the king. Sali said: “King Akaf, my brother, throw off the veil, show yourself to your people and perform, now, the sacrifice; for these beings have been struck down by Azrael, through God’s command.” The servants removed the veils from the throne. King Akaf stood up. He was the first king the people of Naphta had seen. And King Akaf was handsome as the rising sun.
The people rejoiced. A white horse was brought in, onto which the king leaped. To his left was his sister, Sali-fu-Hamr, to his right Far-li-mas. The king rode as far as the temple. Inside the temple the king took a spade and dug three holes in the holy ground. He put three seeds into them. The king dug two holes in the holy ground. Sali put two seeds into them. And immediately the five seeds sprouted and grew before the eyes of the people. At noon the five plants had produced ripe ears of corn. In all the courtyards of the city, fathers broke the fetlocks of great bulls. The king extinguished the fire. All fathers in the city put out the fires in their hearths, Sali lit a new fire, and all the virgins came to take from it.
From that day no one else was killed in Naphta. King Akaf was the first king of Naphta to live until it pleased God to take him away, in old age. When he died, Far-li-mas was his successor. With him, Naphta reached its highest point of happiness and its end.
For King Akaf’s fame as a wise and well-counseled ruler soon spread through all countries. All princes sent him gifts and wise men, who came to seek advice. All the great merchants settled in the city of Naphta. King Akaf had many large ships on the eastern coast that transported goods from Naphta to every part of the world. There were not enough gold and copper mines in Naphta to keep the workshops full. When Far-li-mas succeeded King Akaf, the happiness of the country reached its highest point. His fame spread through all countries, from the eastern sea to the western sea. But his fame also sowed the seed of envy in the hearts of men. When Far-li-mas died, the neighboring countries broke their agreements and began a war against Naphta. Naphta was defeated. Naphta was destroyed, and with it the most powerful palace of the great realm. The great realm fell to pieces. It was overrun by savage peoples. The gold and silver mines were forgotten. The cities vanished. Nothing is left of Naphta, except Far-li-mas’s stories, which he had brought with him from the land beyond the eastern sea.
This is the story of the ruin of the land of Kasch. Its last children live in the land of For.