The Tale of the King and his Chamberlain"s Wife.[FN#488]

There was once, in days of yore and in ages and times long gone before, a King of the kings of the Persians, who was much addicted to the love of fair women. His courtiers spoke him of the wife of a certain of his Chamberlains, a model of beauty and loveliness and perfect grace, and this egged him on to go in to her. When she saw him, she knew him and said to him, "What urgeth the King to this that he doeth?" and he replied, saying, "Verily, I long for thee with excess of longing and there is no help but that I enjoy thy favours." And he gave her of wealth that after whose like women l.u.s.t; but she said, "I cannot do the deed whereof the king speaketh, for fear of my husband; "[FN#489] and she refused herself to him with the most rigorous of refusals and would not suffer him to win his wish. So the king went out in wrath, and forgot his girdle in the place. Now it chanced that her husband entered immediately after his lord had departed, and saw the girdle and knew it. He was aware of the king"s love for women; so quoth he to his wife, "What be this I see with thee?"

Quoth she, "I"ll tell thee the truth," and recounted to him the occurrence; but he believed her not and suspicion entered his heart. As for the King, he pa.s.sed that night in care and concern, and when the morning morrowed, he summoned that Chamberlain and made him governor of one of his provinces; then he bade him betake himself thither, purposing, after he should have departed and fared afar, to foregather with his wife. The Chamberlain perceived his project and kenned his intent; so he answered, saying, "To hear is to obey!" presently adding, "I will go and order my affairs and give such injunctions as may be needed for the well-doing of my affairs; then will I go about the sovran"s commission." And the King said, "Do this and make haste." So the Chamberlain went about that which he needed and a.s.sembling his wife"s kinsfolk, said to them, "I am determined to dismiss my wife." They took this ill of him and complained of him and summoning him before the sovereign, sat prosecuting him. Now the King had no knowledge of that which had pa.s.sed; so he said to the Chamberlain, "Why wilt thou put her away and how can thy soul consent to this and why takest thou unto thyself a fine and fertile piece of land and presently forsakest it?" Answered the husband, "Allah amend the king! By the Almighty, O my King, I saw therein the trail of the lion and fear to enter that land, lest the lion devour me; and the like of my affair with her is that which befel between the Crone and the Draper"s Wife. The king asked, "What is their adventure?" and the Chamberlain answered, "Hear, O king,

The Story of the Crone and the Draper"s Wife.[FN#490]

There was once a man of the Drapers, who had a beautiful wife, and she was curtained[FN#491] and chaste. A certain young man saw her coming forth of the Hammam and loved her and his heart was engrossed with her. So he devised for access to her all manner of devices, but availed not to foregather with her; and when he was a-weary and his patience failed for travail and trouble and his fort.i.tude betrayed and forsook him and he was at an end of his resources against her, he complained of this to an ill-omened crone,[FN#492] who promised him to bring about union between him and his beloved. He thanked her for this and promised her all manner of douceurs; and she said to him, "Hie thee to her husband and buy of him a turband-cloth of fine linen, and let it be of the very best of stuff." So he repaired to the Draper and buying of him a turband-cloth of lawn, returned and gave it to the old woman, who took it and burned it in two places. Then she donned the dress of a devotee and taking the turband-cloth with her, went to the Draper"s house and knocked at the door. When the Draper"s wife saw her thus habited as a holy woman, she opened to her and admitted her with kindly reception, and made much of her and welcomed her: so the crone went in to her and conversed with her awhile. Then said she to her, "I want to make the Wuzu-ablution preparatory to prayer."[FN#493] At these words the wife brought the water and she made the ablution and standing up to pray, prayed and satisfied herself; and when she had ended her orisons, she left the turband-cloth in the place of prayer and fared forth. Presently, in came the Draper, at the hour of night-devotions, and sitting down in the prayer-place where the old woman had prayed, looked about him and espied the turband. He knew it and suspected foul play; so wrath showed in his face and he was furious with his wife and reviled her and abode his day and his night without speaking to her, during all which while she knew not the cause of his rage. Then she looked and seeing the turband-cloth before him and noting the traces of burning thereon, understood that his anger was on account of this and concluded that he was in ill-temper because it was burnt. When the morning morrowed, the Draper went out, still wroth with his wife, and the crone returned to her and found her changed of colour, pale of complexion, dejected and heart-broken. So she questioned her of the cause, and the wife told her how her husband was angered against her on account of the burns in the turband-cloth.[FN#494] Rejoined the old woman, "O my daughter, be not chagrined; for I have a son, a fine-drawer, and he, by thy life, shall fine-draw the holes and restore the turband-cloth as it was." The wife rejoiced in her saying and asked her, "And when shall this be?" The crone answered, "To-morrow, Inshallah--an it please Allah the Most High--I will bring him to thee, at the time of thy husband"s going forth from thee, and he shall fine-draw it and depart forthwith." Then she comforted her heart and going away from her, returned to the young man and acquainted him with what had pa.s.sed. Now when the Draper saw the turband-cloth, he determined to divorce his wife and waited only till he could collect that which was obligatory on him of the contingent dowry and what not else,[FN#495] for fear of her people. When the crone arose in the morning, she took the young man and carried him into the Draper"s house. The wife opened the door to her and the ill-omened old woman entered with him and said to the lady, "Go, fetch that which thou wouldest have fine-drawn and give it to my son." So saying, she bolted the door on her, whereupon the young man raped[FN#496] her against her will and did his want of her and went forth. Then cried the crone, "Know that this is my son and that he loved thee with exceeding love and was like to lose his life for longing after thee; so I devised for thee with this device and came to thee with this turband-cloth, which is not thy husband"s, but my son"s. Now have I won to my wish; so do thou trust in me and I will put a sleight on thy husband for setting thee right with him, and thou wilt be subject to me and to him and to my son."[FN#497] And the wife replied, ""Tis well. Do so."

Presently the old woman returned to the lover and said, "Know thou that I have engineered the affair for thee with her; and now we must mend that we have marred. Hie thee and sit with the Draper and mention to him the turband-cloth, saying, ?The turband I bought of thee I chanced to burn in two places; so I gave it to a certain old woman, to have fine-drawn, and she took it and went away, and I know not her dwelling-place."[FN#498] When thou seest me pa.s.s by, rise and lay hold of me, and demand of me the cloth, to the intent that I may arrange her affair with her spouse and that matters go right with thee in her regard." Accordingly he repaired to the Draper"s shop and sat down by him and asked him, "Thou knowest the turband-cloth I bought of thee?" "Yes."

"Knowest thou what is come of it?" "No." "After I bought it of thee, I fumigated myself[FN#499] and it fortuned that the turbandcloth was burnt in two places; so I gave it to a woman, whose son, they said, was a fine-drawer, and she took it and fared forth with it; and I know not her home." When the Draper heard this, he was startled by the thought that he had suspected his wife wrongfully, and marvelled at the story of the turband-cloth, and his mind was made easy anent her. After a short while up came the old woman, whereupon the young man sprang to his feet and seizing her, demanded of her the turband-cloth.

Said she, "Know that I entered one of the houses and wuzu"d and prayed in the prayerplace;[FN#500] and I forgot the turband-cloth there and went out. Now I weet not the house in which I prayed, nor have I been divinely directed[FN#501] thereto, and I go round about every day till the night, so haply I may light on the dwelling, for I know not its owner." When the Draper heard these words, he said to the old woman, "Verily, Allah restoreth to thee what thing thou hast lost. Be gladdened by good news, for the turband-cloth is with me and in my house." And he arose forthright and handed to her the turband-cloth, as it was, and she handed it to the young man. Then the Draper made peace with his wife and gave her raiment and jewellery, till she was content and her heart was appeased.[FN#502] When the king heard his Chamberlain"s story, he was dazed and amazed and said to him, "Abide on thy service and ear thy field for that the lion entered it, but marred it not, and he will never more return thither."

[FN#503] Then he bestowed on him an honourable robe and made him a costly present; and the man returned to his wife and people, rejoicing, his heart having been set at rest concerning his wife.

"Nor" (continued the Wazir), "O King of the age, is this rarer or stranger than the story of the beautiful wife, a woman gifted of amorous grace, with the ugly Man, her husband." When King Shah Bakht heard the Minister"s speech, he deemed it delectable and it pleased him; so he bade him hie to his house, and there he tarried his day long.

The Twenty-fifth Night of the Month.

When the evening evened, the King summoned his Wazir and bade him tell the tale. So he said, ""Tis well. Hear, O King,

The Tale of the Ugly Man and his Beautiful Wife.

There was once a man of the Arabs who had a number of children, and amongst them a boy, never was seen a fairer than he of favour nor a more complete in comeliness; no, nor a more perfect of prudence. When he came to man"s estate, his father married him to his first cousin, the daughter of one of his paternal uncles, and she excelled not in beauty, neither was she laudable for qualities; wherefore she pleased not the youth, but he bore with her for the sake of kinship. One day, he fared forth in quest of certain camels[FN#504] of his which had strayed and hied him on all his day and night till eventide, when he was fain to seek hospitality in an Arab camp. So he alighted at one of the tents of the tribesmen and there came forth to him a man short of stature and foul of favour, who saluted him with the salam; and, lodging him in a corner of the tent, sat entertaining him with chat, the cheeriest that might be. When his food was dressed, the Arab"s wife brought it to the guest, and he looked at the mistress of the tent and saw a semblance than which no seemlier might be. Indeed, her beauty and loveliness, her symmetry and perfect grace amazed him and he was struck with astonishment, gazing now at her and then at her mate. When his looking grew long, the man said to him, "Ho, thou son of the worthy! Busy thyself with thine own business, for by me and this woman hangeth a wondrous tale, which is even better than that thou seest of her beauty; and I will tell it to thee when we have made a finish of our food." So, when they had ended eating and drinking, the young man asked his host for the story, and he said, "Know that in my youth I was the same as thou seest me in the matter of loathliness and foul favour; and I had brethren of the fairest of the folk; wherefore my father preferred them over me and used to show them kindness, to my exclusion, and made me serve in their stead, like as a master employeth slaves. One day, a dromedary of his strayed from the herd of camels, and he said to me, ?Go thou forth in quest of her and return not but with her." I replied, ?Send other than I of thy sons." But he would not consent to this and scolded me and insisted upon me, till the matter came to such a pa.s.s with him that he took a thongwhip and fell to beating me.

So I arose and saddling a riding-camel, mounted her and sallied forth at random, purposing to go out into the wolds and the wilds and return to him never more. I fared on all my night and the next day and coming at eventide[FN#505] to the encampment of this my wife"s people, alighted down with and became the guest of her father, who was a Shaykh well stricken in years. Now when it was the noon of night, I arose and went forth the tent at a call of nature, and none knew of my case save this woman. The dogs followed me as a suspected stranger and ceased not worrying me[FN#506] till I fell on my back into a pit, wherein was water, a deep hollow and a steep; and a dog of those dogs fell in with me. The woman, who was then a girl in the bloom of youth, full of strength and spirit, was moved to ruth on me, for the calamity whereinto I was fallen, and coming to me with a rope, said to me, ?Catch hold of the rope," So I hent it and clung to it and she haled me up; but, when I was half-way up, I pulled her down and she fell with me into the pit; and there we abode three days, she and I and the hound. When her people arose in the morning and did not see her, they sought her in the camp, but, finding her not and missing me also, never doubted but she had fled with me.[FN#507] Now she had four brothers, as they were Saker-hawks, and they took horse and dispersed in search of us. When the day yellowed on the fourth dawn, the dog began to bark and the other hounds answered him and coming to the mouth of the pit, stood howling to him. The Shaykh, my wife"s father, hearing the howling of the hounds, came up and standing at the brink of the hollow, looked in and beheld a marvel. Now he was a brave man and a sensible, an elder experienced in affairs, so he fetched a cord and bringing forth the three, questioned us twain of our case. I told him all that had betided and he fell a-pondering the affair.

Presently, her brothers returned, whereupon the old man acquainted them with the whole case and said to them, ?O my sons, know that your sister intended not aught but good, and if ye kill this man, ye will earn abiding shame and ye will wrong him, and wrong your own souls and eke your sister: for indeed there appeareth no cause such as calleth for killing, and it may not be denied that this accident is a thing whose like may well occur and that he may easily have been the victim of suchlike chance."

Then he addressed me and questioned me of my lineage; so I set forth to him my genealogy and he, exclaiming, ?A man of her match, honourable, understanding," offered me his daughter in wedlock. I consented to this and marrying her, took up my abode with him and Allah hath opened on me the gates of weal and wealth, so that I am become the richest in monies of the tribesmen; and the Almighty hath stablished me in that which He hath given me of His bounties." The young man marvelled at his tale and lay the night with him; and when he arose in the morning, he found his estrays. So he took them and returning to his folk, acquainted them with what he had seen and all that had befallen him. "Nor" (continued the Wazir) "is this stranger or rarer than the story of the King who lost kingdom and wealth and wife and children and Allah restored them to him and requited him with a realm more magnificent than that which he had forfeited and better and finer and greater of wealth and degree." The Minister"s story pleased the King and he bade him depart to his abode.

The Twenty-sixth Night of the Month.

When came the night, the king summoned his Wazir and bade him tell the story of the King who lost kingdom and wife and wealth.

He replied, "Hearing and obeying! Give ear, O sovran, to

The Tale of the King who lost Kingdom and Wife and Wealth and Allah restored them to Him.[FN#508]

There was once a king of the kings of Hind, who was a model of morals, praiseworthy in policy, lief of justice to his lieges, lavish to men of learning and piety and abstinence and devoutness and worship and shunning mischief-makers and froward folk, fools and traitors. After such goodly fashion he abode in his kingship what Allah the Most High willed of watches and days and twelvemonths,[FN#509] and he married the daughter of his father"s brother, a beautiful woman and a winsome, endowed with brightness and perfection, who had been reared in the king"s house in delicacy and delight. She bare him two sons, the most beauteous that might be of boys, when came Destiny from whose decree is no deliverance and Allah the Most High raised up against the King another king, who came forth upon his realm, and was joined by all the folk of the city that had a mind to lewdness and frowardness. So he strengthened himself by means of them against the King and compa.s.sed his kingdom, routing his troops and killing his guards. The King took his wife, the mother of his sons, and what he might of monies and saved his life and fled in the darkness of the night, unknowing whither he should wend.

Whenas wayfare grew sore upon them, there met them highwaymen on the way, who took all that was with them, so that naught remained to each of them save a shirt and trousers; the robbers left them without even provaunt or camels or other riding-cattle, and they ceased not to fare on afoot, till they came to a copse, which was an orchard of trees on the ocean sh.o.r.e.[FN#510] Now the road which they would have followed was crossed by a sea-arm, but it was shallow and scant of water; wherefore, when they reached that place, the king took up one of his children and fording the water with him, set him down on the further bank and returned for his other son, whom also he seated by his brother. Lastly, returning for their mother, he took her up and pa.s.sing the water with her, came to the place where he had left his children, but found them not. Thereupon he looked at the midst of the island and saw an old man and an old woman, engaged in making themselves a reed-hut: so he set down his wife over against them and started off in quest of his children, but none gave him news of them and he went round about right and left, yet found not the whereabouts they were. On this wise fared it with him; but as to the children, they had entered the copse to make water, and they found there a forest of trees, wherein, if a st.u.r.dy horseman[FN#511] strayed, he might wander by the week, and never know its first from its last. So the boys pushed into it and wotted not how they should return and went astray in that wood, for a purpose willed of Allah Almighty, whilst their father sought them, but found them not. So he returned to their mother and they abode weeping for their children; as for whom, when they entered the forest, it swallowed them up and they fared at hap-hazard, wandering in it many days, knowing not whence they came or whither they went, till they issued forth, at another side, upon the open country. Meanwhile, their parents, the king and queen, tarried in the island, over against the old man and his old woman, and ate of the fruits and drank of the rills that were in it till, one day of the days, as they sat, behold, up came a ship and made fast to the island-side, for provisioning with water, whereupon they[FN#512] looked one at other and spoke.

The master of the craft was a Magian man and all that was therein, both crew and goods, belonged to him, for he was a trader and went round about the world. Now greed of gain deluded the old man, the owner of the island, and he fared to the ship and gave the Guebre news of the King"s wife, setting out to him her charms, till he made him long for her and his soul moved[FN#513] him to practise treachery and cozenage upon her and take her from her husband. Accordingly, he sent to her, saying, "Aboard with us is a woman with child, and we dread lest she be delivered this night: hast thou aught of skill in midwifery?" She replied, "Yes." Now it was the last of the day; so he sent to her to come up into the ship and deliver the woman, for that the labour-pangs were come upon her; and he promised her clothes and spendingmoney. Hereat, she embarked confidently, with heart at ease for herself, and transported her gear to the ship; but no sooner had she come thither than the sails were hoisted and the canvas was loosed[FN#514] and the ship set sail. When the King saw this, he cried out and his wife wept in the ship and would have cast herself into the waves; but the Magian bade his men lay hands on her. So they seized her and it was but a little while ere the night darkened and the ship vanished from the King"s eyes; whereupon he fainted away for excess of weeping and lamentation and pa.s.sed his night bewailing his wife and his children. And when the morning morrowed he began improvising these couplets:--[FN#515]

"O World, how long, this spite, this enmity?

Say me, dost ever spare what spared can be?

And look! my friends have fared fain and free!

They went and went wi" them my dear delight E"en from the day when friends to part were dight And turbid made their lost life"s clarity.

By Allah, ne"er I wist their worth aright Nor ever wot I worth of friends unite Till fared they, leaving flame in heart of me!

I"ll ne"er forget them since what day each wight Hied and withdrew fro" me his well-loved sight And yet I weep this parting-blow to dree.

I vow an Heaven deign my friends return And cry the crier in mine ears that yearn "The far is near, right soon their sight shalt see!"

Upon their site my cheeks I"ll place, to sprite I"ll say, "Rejoice, thy friends return to thee!"

Nor blame my heart when friends were lief to flee: I rent my heart ere rent my raimentry."

He sat weeping for the severance of his wife and children till the morning, when he went forth wandering at a venture, unweeting what he should do, and ceased not walking along the sea-sh.o.r.e days and nights, unknowing whither he went and taking no food save the herbs of the earth and seeing neither man nor wildling nor other living thing, till his wayfare brought him to a mountain-top. He sojourned in the highland and abode awhile there alone, eating of its fruits and drinking of its founts; then he came down thence and trudged along the high road three days, when he hit upon tilled fields and villages and gave not over going till he made a great city on the sh.o.r.e of the salt sea and came to its gate at the last of the day. The gatekeepers allowed him no admission; so he spent his night anhungered, and when he arose in the morning, he sat down hard by the portal. Now the king of the city was dead and had left no son, and the citizens fell out anent who should be ruler over them: and their words and redes differed, so that civil war was like to befal them thereupon. But it came to pa.s.s that, after long jangle, they agreed to leave the choice to the late king"s elephant and that he unto whom he consented should be king and that they would not contest with him the sway. So to this they sware and on the morrow, they brought out their elephant and fared forth to a site within sight of the city; nor was there man or woman but was present at that moment.

Then they adorned the elephant and raising the throne on his back, gave him the crown in his trunk; and he went round about examining the countenances of the folk, but stopped not over against any of them till he came at last to the forlorn King, the exile who had lost his children and his wife, when the beast prostrated himself to him and placing the crown on his head, took him up and set him upon his back. Thereupon the people all prostrated themselves and gave mutual joy of this and the drums[FN#516] of good tidings beat before him, and he entered the city and went on till he reached the House of Justice and the Audience-hall of the Palace and sat down upon the throne of the kingdom, crown on head; whereat the lieges entered to congratulate him and to bless him. Then he addressed himself, as was his wont in the kingship, to forwarding the affairs of the folk and ranging the troops according to their ranks and looking into their affairs and those of all the Ryots. He also released those who were in the dungeons and abolished the custom-dues and gave honourable robes and lavished great gifts and bestowed largesse and conferred favours on the Emirs and Wazirs and Lords of the realm, and the Chamberlains"[FN#517] and Nabobs presented themselves before him and did him homage. So the city people rejoiced in him and said, "Indeed, this be none other than a King of the greatest of the kings." And presently he a.s.sembled the sages and the theologians and the sons of the Sovrans and conversed with them and asked them subtile questions and casuistical problems and talked over with them things manifold of all fashions that might direct him to rect.i.tude in the kingship; and he questioned them also of mysteries and religious obligations and of the laws of the land and the regulations of rule and of that which it beseemeth the liege lord to do of looking into the affairs of the lieges and repelling the foe and fending off his malice with force and fight; so the subjects"

contentment redoubled and their exultation in that which Allah Almighty had vouchsafed them of his kingship over them. On such wise he upheld the ordinance of the realm, and the affairs abode stablished upon the accepted custom and local usage. Now the late king had left a wife and two daughters, and the people would fain have married the Princess royal to the new king that the rule might not pa.s.s clean away from the old rulers. Accordingly, they proposed to him that he should wed her or the other of the deceased king"s daughters, and he promised them this, but he put them off from him, of his respect for the covenant he had made with his former wife, his cousin, that he would marry none other than herself. Then he betook himself to fasting by day and praying through the night, multiplying his alms-deeds and beseeching Allah (extolled and exalted be He!) to reunite him with his children and his wife, the daughter of his father"s brother. When a year had elapsed, there came to the city a ship, wherein were many merchants and much merchandise. Now it was their custom from time immemorial that the king, whenever a ship made the port, sent to it such of his pages as he trusted in, who took agency of the goods, to the end that they might be first shown to the Sovran, who bought as much of them as befitted him and gave the merchants leave to sell whatso he wanted not. So he commissioned, according to his custom, a man who should fare to the ship and seal up the bales and set over them one who could watch and ward them. Meanwhile the Queen his wife, when the Magian fled with her and proffered himself to her and lavished upon her abounding wealth, rejected him and was like to kill herself[FN#518] for chagrin at that which had befallen and for concern anent her separation from her husband. She also refused meat and drink and resolved to cast herself into the sea; but the Magian chained her and straitened her and clothed her in a coat of wool and said to her, "I will continue thee in wretchedness and humiliation till thou obey me and accept me." So she took patience and looked for the Almighty to deliver her from the hand of that accursed; and she ceased not travelling with him from country to country till he came with her in fine to the city wherein her husband was king and his goods were put under seal.

Now the woman was in a chest and two youths of the late king"s pages, who were now in the new King"s service, were those who had been charged with the watch and ward of the craft and her cargaison. When the evening evened on them, the twain began talking and recounted that which had befallen them in their days of childhood and the manner of the faring forth of their father and mother from their country and kingdom when the wicked overcame their realm, and how they had gone astray in the forest and how Fate had severed them from their parents; for short, they told their tale from first to last. When the woman heard their talk, she knew that they were her sons and cried out to them from the chest, "I am your mother, Such-an-one, and the token between you twain and me is thus and thus." The young men knew the token and falling upon the chest, brake the lock and brought out their mother, who seeing them, strained them to her bosom, and they fell upon her and fainted away, all three. When they came to themselves, they wept awhile and the people a.s.sembled about them, marvelling at that they saw, and questioned them of their case.

So the young Princes vied each with other who should be the first to discover the story to the folk; and when the Magian saw this, he came up, crying out, "Alack!" and "Ruin!" and said to them, "Why and wherefore have ye broken open my chest? Verily, I had in it jewels and ye have stolen them, and this damsel is my slave-girl and she hath agreed with you both upon a device to take my wealth." Then he rent his raiment and cried for aid, saying, "I appeal to Allah and to the just King, so he may quit me of these wrongous youths!" They both replied, "This is our mother and thou stolest her:" whereupon words waxed manifold between them and the folk plunged into talk with many a "he said"

and ""twas said" concerning their affair and that of the pretended slave-girl, and the strife increased between them, so that at last they carried them all four to the King"s court. When the two young men presented themselves between his hands and stated their case to him and to the folk and the sovran heard their speech, he knew them and his heart was like to fly for joy: the tears poured from his eyes at their sight and the sight of his wife, and he thanked Allah Almighty and praised Him for that He had deigned reunite them. Then he bade the folk who were present about him be dismissed and commanded the Magian and the woman and the two youths be to morrow committed to his armoury[FN#519] for the night, ordering that they should keep guard over them all until the Lord should make the morning to morrow, so he might a.s.semble the Kazis and the Justiciaries and a.s.sessors and determine between them, according to Holy Law, in the presence of the four judges. So they did this and the King pa.s.sed the night praying and praising Allah of All-might for that which he had vouchsafed him of kingship and power and victory over the wight who had wronged him and thanking Him who had reunited him with his own. When the morning morrowed, he a.s.sembled the Kazis and Deputies and a.s.sessors[FN#520] and summoning the Magian and the two youths and their mother, questioned them of their case; whereupon the two young men began and said, "We are the sons of King Such-an-one and foemen and lewd fellows gat the mastery of our realm; so our sire fled forth with us and wandered at haphazard, for fear of the foe." And they recounted to him all that had betided them, from beginning to end.[FN#521] Quoth he, "Ye tell a marvel-tale; but what hath Fate done with your father?" Quoth they, "We know not how Fortune dealt with him after our loss." And he was silent. Then he bespake the woman, "And thou, what sayst thou?" So she set forth to him her case and all that had betided her and her husband, from the beginning of their hardships to the end, and recounted to him their adventures up to the time when they took up their abode with the old man and woman who dwelt on the sea-sh.o.r.e. Then she reported that which the Magian had practised on her of fraud and how he had carried her off in the craft and everything that had betided her of humiliation and torment; all this while the Kazis and judges and Deputies hearkening to her speech as they had lent ear to the others" adventures. When the King heard the last of his wife"s tale, he said, "Verily, there hath betided thee a mighty grievous matter; but hast thou knowledge of what thy husband did and what came of his affair?" She replied, "Nay, by Allah; I have no knowledge of him, save that I leave him no hour unremembered in righteous prayer, and never, whilst I live, will he cease to be to me the father of my children and my cousin and my flesh and my blood." Then she wept and the King bowed his head, whilst his eyes welled tears at her tale. Presently he raised his head to the Magian and cried to him, "Say thy say, thou also." So the Magian replied, "This is my slave-girl, whom I bought with my money from such a land and for so many dinars, and I made her my betrothed[FN#522] and loved her exceedingly and gave my monies into her charge; but she falsed me in my substance and plotted with one of my lads to slay me, tempting him by a promise that she would kill me and become his wife. When I knew this of her and was a.s.sured that she purposed treason against me, I awoke from my dream of happiness and did with her that which I did, fearing for my life from her craft and perfidy; for indeed she is a trickstress with her tongue and she hath taught these two youths this pretence, by way of sleight and of her guile and her malice: so be you not deluded by her and by her talk." "Thou liest, O accursed," cried the King and bade lay hands on him and iron him. Then he turned to the two youths, his sons, and strained them to his breast, weeping sore and saying, "O all ye people who are present of Kazis and a.s.sessors and Lords of the land, know that these twain are my sons and that this is my wife and the daughter of my father"s brother; for that whilome I was king in such a realm." And he recounted to them his history from commencement to conclusion, nor is there aught of fruition in repet.i.tion; whereupon the folk cried out with weeping and wailing for the stress of what they heard of marvellous chances and that wondrous story. As for the king"s wife, he bade carry her into his palace and lavished upon her and upon her sons all that befitted and beseemed them of bounties, whilst the lieges flocked to offer up prayers for him and give him joy of his reunion with his wife and children. When they had made an end of blessings and congratulations, they besought the king to hasten the punishment of the Magian and heal their hearts with tormenting and abasing him. So he appointed them for a day on which they should a.s.semble to witness his requitement and that which should betide him of torment, and shut himself up with his wife and two sons and abode thus private with them three days, during which they were veiled from the folk. On the fourth day the King entered the Hammam, and faring forth, sat down on the throne of his kingship, crown on head, whereupon the folk came in to him, according to their custom and after the measure of their several dignities and degrees, and the Emirs and Wazirs entered, and eke the Chamberlains and Nabobs and Captains of war and the Falconers and Armbearers and Commanders of the body-guard. Then he seated his two sons, one on his right and the other on his left hand, whilst the subjects all stood before him and lifted up their voices in thanksgiving to Allah the Most High and glorification of Him and were instant in orisons for the king and in setting forth his virtues and excellent qualities. He answered them with the most gracious of answers and bade carry the Magian outside the city and set him on a high scaffold which had been builded for him there; and he said to the folk, "Behold, I will torture him with torments of all kinds and fashions." Then he began telling them that which he had wrought of villainy with his cousin-wife and what he had caused her of severance between her and her husband and how he had required her person of her, but she had sought refuge for her chast.i.ty against him with Allah (to whom belong honour and glory) and chose abas.e.m.e.nt rather than obedience to him, despite stress of torture: neither recked she aught of that which he lavished to her of monies and raiment, jewels and ornaments. When the King had made an end of his story, he bade the bystanders spit in the Magian"s face and curse him; and they did this. Then he bade cut out his tongue and on the next day he bade lop off his ears and nose and pluck out both his eyes. On the third day he bade hew off his hands and on the fourth his feet; and they ceased not to dismember him, limb after limb, and each member they cast into the fire, after its amputation, before his face, till his soul departed, after he had endured torments of all kinds and fashions. Then the King bade crucify his trunk on the city wall for three days; after which he gave orders to burn it and reduce its ashes to powder and scatter them abroad in air. And when this was done, the King summoned the Kazi and the Witnesses and commanded them marry the old king"s daughter and her sister to his own sons; so the youths wedded them, after the King had made a bride-feast three days and displayed their brides to them from nightfall to day-dawn. Then the two Princes went in unto their brides and abated their maidenheads and loved them and were vouchsafed issue by them. As for the King their sire, he abode with his cousin-wife, their mother, what while Allah (to whom be honour and glory) willed, and they rejoiced in reunion each with other. The kingship endured unto them and high degree and victory, and the sovran continued to rule with justice and equity, so that the lieges loved him and prayed for him and for his sons length of life and durance of days; and they lived the most delightsome of existences till there came to them the Destroyer of delights and Severer of societies, the Depopulator of palaces and Garnerer of graves; and this is all that hath come down to us of the story of the King and his Wife and Sons. "Nor,"

continued the Wazir, "if this story be a solace and a diversion, is it pleasanter or more diverting than the tale of the Youth of Khorasan and his mother and sister." When King Shah Bakht heard this story, it pleased him and he bade the Minister hie away to his own house.

The Twenty-seventh Night of the Month.

When evening came, the king Shah Bakht bade fetch the Wazir; so he presented himself before him and the King ordered him to tell the tale. So he said, "Hearkening and obedience. Give ear, O sovran, to

The Tale of Salim, the Youth of Khorasan, and Salma, his Sister.

Know, O king (but Allah alone knoweth His secret purpose and is versed in the past and the foredone among folk bygone) that there was once, in the parts of Khorasan, a man of its affluent, who was a merchant of the chiefest of the merchants[FN#523] and was blessed with two children, a son and a daughter.[FN#524] He was diligent exceedingly in rearing them and they were educated with the fairest of education; for he used to teach the boy, who taught his sister all that he learnt, so that, by means of her brother, the damsel became perfect in the knowledge of the Traditions of the Prophet and in polite letters. Now the boy"s name was Salim and that of the girl Salma. When they grew up and were fully grown, their father built them a mansion beside his own and lodged them apart therein and appointed them slave-girls and servants to tend them and a.s.signed to each of them pay and allowances and all that they needed of high and low; meat and bread; wine, dresses, and vessels and what not else. So Salim and Salma abode in that palace, as they were one soul in two bodies, and they used to sleep on one couch and rise amorn with single purpose, while firmly fixed in each one"s heart were fond affection and familiar friendship for the other. One night, when the half was spent, as Salim and Salma sat recounting and conversing, they heard a noise on the ground floor; so they looked out from a latticed cas.e.m.e.nt which gave upon the gate of their father"s mansion and saw a man of fine presence, whose clothes were hidden under a wide cloak. He came straight up to the gate and laying hold of the door-ring, rapped a light rap; whereupon the door opened and behold, out came their sister, with a lighted taper, and after her their mother, who saluted the stranger and embraced him, saying, "O dearling of my heart and light of mine eyes and fruit of my vitals, enter." So he went in and shut the door, whilst Salim and Salma abode amazed. The youth turned to the girl and said to her, "O sister mine, how deemest thou of this trouble and what advice hast thou to offer?" She replied, "O my brother, indeed I know not what I shall say anent the like of this; but he is not disappointed who divine direction seeketh, nor doth he repent who counsel taketh. One getteth not the better of the traces of burning by haste, and know that this is an affliction that hath descended[FN#525] on us and a calamity foreordained to us; so we have need of wise rede to do it away and contrivance which shall wash our shame from our faces." And they ceased not watching the gate till daybreak, when the young man opened the door and their mother farewelled him; after which he went his way and she entered, she and her handmaid. Hereat said Salim to his sister, "Know thou I am resolved to slay this man, an he return the next night, and I will say to the folk, He was a robber, and none shall weet that which hath befallen. Then I will address myself to the slaughter of whosoever knoweth what is between the fellow and my mother." But Salma said, "I fear lest an thou slay him in our dwelling-place and he be not convicted of robberhood, suspicion and ill-fame will revert upon ourselves, and we cannot be a.s.sured that he belongeth not to a tribe whose mischief is to be feared and whose enmity is to be dreaded, and thus wilt thou have fled from hidden shame to open shame and to disgrace public and abiding." Asked Salim: "What then is it thy rede to do?" And she answered, "Is there no help but thou kill him? Let us not hasten unto slaughter, for that the slaughter of a soul without just cause is a mighty grave matter."

When Shahban[FN#526] heard this, he said within himself, "By Allah, I have indeed been hasty and reckless in the slaying of women and girls, and Alhamdolillah--lauded be the Lord--who hath occupied me with this damsel from the slaughter of souls, for that the slaughter of souls is a grave matter and a grievous! By the Almighty if Shah Bakht spare the Wazir, I will a.s.suredly spare Shahrazad!"[FN#527] Then he gave ear to the story and heard her say to her sister:--Quoth Salma to Salim, "Hasten not to slay him, but overthink the matter and consider the issue whereto it may tend; for whoso considereth not of actions the end hath not Fortune to friend." Then they arose on the morrow and busied themselves with contriving how they should turn away their parent from that man, and the mother forefelt mischief from them, for what she saw in their eyes of change, she being wily and keen of wit. So she took precaution for herself against her children and Salma said to Salim, "Thou seest what we have fallen upon through this woman, and very sooth she hath sensed our purpose and wotteth that we have discovered her secret. So, doubtless, she will plot against us the like of that which we plot for her; for indeed up to now she had concealed her affair, and from this time forth she will become harsh to us; wherefore, methinks, there is a thing forewritten to us, whereof Allah (extolled and exalted be He!) knew in His foreknowledge and wherein He carrieth out His commandments." He asked, "What is that?" and she answered, "It is that we arise, I and thou, and go forth this night from this land and seek us a town wherein we may wone and witness naught of the doings of yonder traitress; for whoso is absent from the eye is absent from the heart, and quoth one of the poets in the following couplet:[FN#528]--

"Tis happiest, best for thee, the place to leave, * For then no eye can see, nor heart can grieve."

Quoth Salim to her,[FN#529] ""Tis for thee to decide and right is thy rede; so let us do this, in the name of Allah the Almighty, trusting in Him for guiding and grace." Accordingly they arose and took the richest of their raiment and the lightest of that which was in their treasuries of gems and things of price and gathered together much matter. Then they equipped them ten mules and hired them servants of other than the people of the country; and Salim bade his sister Salma don man"s dress. Now she was the likest of all creatures to him, so that, when she was clad in man"s clothing, the folk knew no difference between them-- extolled be the perfection of Him who hath no like, there is no G.o.d but He! Then he told her to mount a mare, whilst he himself took another, and they set out under cover of the night; nor did any of their family or household know of them. So they fared on into Allah"s wide world and gave not over going night and day for a s.p.a.ce of two months, at the end of which they came to a city on the sea-sh.o.r.e of the land of Makran,[FN#530] by name Al-Sharr, and it is the first city in Sind.[FN#531] They lighted down within sight of the place and when they arose in the morning, they saw a populous city and a goodly, seemly of semblance and great, abounding in trees and rills and fruits and wide of suburbs which stretched to the neighbouring villages. So the young man said to his sister Salma, "Tarry thou here in thy place, till I enter the city and make proof of it and its people and seek us out a stead which we may buy and whereto we may remove. An it befit us, we will make us a home therein, otherwise will we take counsel of departing elsewhere." Quoth she, "Do this, trusting in the bounty of Allah (to whom belong honour and glory) and in His blessing." Accordingly he took a belt, wherein were a thousand gold pieces, and girding it about his waist, entered the city and ceased not going round about its streets and bazars and gazing upon its houses and sitting with those of its citizens whose aspect showed signs of worth and wealth, till the day was half spent, when he resolved to return to his sister and said to himself, "Needs must I buy what we may eat of ready-cooked food; I and my sister." Hereupon he addressed a man who sold roast meat and who was clean of person, albe foul in his way of getting a living, and said to him, "Take the price of this dishful and add thereto of fowls and chickens and what not else is in your market of meats and sweetmeats and bread and arrange it in the plates." So the Kitchener took the money and set apart for him what he desired, then calling a porter, he laid it in the man"s crate, and Salim, after paying the price of provisions and porterage in fullest fashion, was about to go away, when the Cook said to him, "O youth, doubtless thou art a stranger?" He replied, "Yes;" and the other rejoined, ""Tis reported in one of the Traditions that the Apostle said, Loyal admonition is a part of religion; and the wise and ware have declared counsel is of the characteristics of True Believers. And verily that which I have seen of thy ways pleaseth me and I would fain give thee a warning." Rejoined Salim, "Speak out thy warning, and may Allah strengthen thy purpose!" Then said the Cook, "Know, O my son, that in this our city, when a stranger entereth and eateth of flesh-meat and drinketh not old wine upon it, "tis harmful to him and disturbeth his body with disorders which be dangerous.

Wherefore, an thou have provided thee somewhat of wine it is well, but, if not, haste to procure it, ere thou take the meat and carry it away." Quoth Salim, "Allah requite thee with weal-- Canst thou shew me where liquor is sold?" and quoth the Cook, "With me is all thou seekest. The youth asked, "Is there a way for me to see it?" and the Cook sprang up and answered, "Pa.s.s on." So he entered and the man showed him somewhat of wine; but he said, "I desire better than this;" whereupon he opened a door and entering, said to Salim, Come in, and follow me." Accordingly Salim followed him till he brought him to an underground chamber and showed him somewhat of wine that suited him. So he occupied him with looking at it and taking him unawares, sprang upon him from behind and threw him to the ground and sat upon his breast.

Then he drew a knife and set it to his jugular; whereupon there betided Salim that wherewith Allah made him forget all that He had decreed to him,[FN#532] and he cried to the Cook, "Why dost thou this thing, O good fellow? Be mindful of the Almighty and fear Him. Seest thou not I am a stranger man? And knowest thou not I have behind me a forlorn defenceless[FN#533] woman?

Wherefore wilt thou kill me?" Quoth the Kitchener, "Needs must I kill thee, so I may take thy money;" and quoth Salim, "Take my money, but kill me not, neither enter into sin against me; and do with me kindness, for indeed the taking of my coin is more venial than the taking of my life." The Cook replied, "This is nonsense.

Thou canst not deliver thyself herewith, O youth, because in thy deliverance is my destruction." Cried Salim, "I swear to thee and give thee the bond of Allah (to whom belong honour and glory) and His covenant, which He took of His prophets that I will not discover thy secret; no, never." But the Kitchener replied, "Away! Away! Alas! Alas! To this there is no path." However, Salim ceased not to conjure him and humble himself to him and weep, while the Cook persisted in his intent to cut his throat: then he shed tears and recited these couplets;[FN#534]

"Haste not to that thou dost desire, for haste is still unblest; * Be merciful to men, as thou on mercy reckonest: For no hand is there but the hand of G.o.d is over it * And no oppressor but shall be with worse than he opprest."

Quoth the Kitchener, "There is no help save that I slay thee, O fellow; for an I spare thee, I shall myself be slain." But Salim said, "O my brother, I will advise thee somewhat[FN#535] other than this." Asked the Cook, "What is it? Say and be brief, ere I cut thy throat;" and Salim answered, "Suffer me to live and keep me as thy Mameluke, thy white slave, and I will work at a craft of the skilled workmen, wherefrom there shall result to thee every day two dinars." Quoth the Kitchener, "What is the craft?"