Nur al-Din approved of this strategy. The auctioneer then left him and went to the centre of the market, took the girl by the hand and gestured to al-Mu‘in. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘here is her owner just coming.’ Nur al-Din then came up to him, snatched the girl from his hands, slapped her and cried: ‘Evil take you, you whore! I have brought you to the market to fulfil my oath. So go back home and don’t disobey me again. Am I in need of the price you would fetch that I should sell you? If I sold the house furnishings, they would fetch many times more than what I could get for you.’ When al-Mu‘in saw this, he said: ‘Damn you, have you anything left to trade?’ and he was about to attack Nur al-Din.
The merchants were all looking on, and Nur al-Din said to them: ‘I am in your hands; you know al-Mu‘in’s tyrannical ways.’ ‘By God,’ said al-Mu‘in, ‘if it were not for you people, I would kill this fellow.’ The merchants were fond of Nur al-Din and they all looked meaningfully at him, as if to say: ‘Get your own back on him; none of us will interfere.’ At that, Nur al-Din, who was a brave man, went up to the vizier, dragged him from his saddle and threw him to the ground, where there was a kneading trough for clay and it was into the middle of this that he fell. Nur al-Din started to strike him and punch him, and when a blow landed on his teeth, his beard became stained with his blood. Al-Mu‘in had with him ten mamluks, and when they saw this happening to their master, their hands went to their sword hilts and they were about to draw their weapons and attack Nur al-Din in order to cut him down when the bystanders called to them: ‘One of these is a vizier and the other is the son of a vizier. It may be that at some time in the future they may become reconciled, in which case both of them would hate you, or a blow might strike your master and then you would all die the worst of deaths. The best advice is for you not to interfere.’
When Nur al-Din had finished drubbing al-Mu‘in, he took Anis al-Jalis and went back home. As for al-Mu‘in, he left immediately with his clothes stained in three colours – the black of the mud, the red of his blood and the colour of ashes. When he saw the state he was in, he took a piece of matting and placed it round his neck, and taking two handfuls of esparto grass, he went to stand beneath the sultan’s palace, where he called out: ‘King of the age, I have been wronged.’ He was brought before the sultan, who saw that this was his chief vizier and asked who had done this. With tears and sobs, the vizier recited:
Can an age in which you live wrong me,
And can wolves devour me when you are a lion?
The thirsty are given water from your trough;
Am I to thirst under your protection when you are the rain?
He added: ‘Master, are all those who love you and serve you to suffer like this?’ ‘Be quick,’ said the sultan, ‘and tell me how this happened to you and who treated you like this, when the respect owed to me covers you as well.’ Al-Mu‘in replied: ‘You must know, master, that I went today to the slave girls’ market to buy a cook. There I saw the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen in my life. I wanted to buy her for you and I asked the auctioneer about her and about her owner. He told me that she belonged to Nur al-Din ‘Ali, the son of al-Fadl ibn Khaqan. You, master, had earlier given his father ten thousand dinars with which to buy a pretty slave girl. This was the one whom he bought, but because he admired her, he was reluctant to see her go to you, and so he gave her to his son. On his father’s death, Nur al-Din sold all his properties, his orchards and his household goods until he became bankrupt. Then he took the girl to the market to sell her. He handed her over to the auctioneer, who put her up for sale, and the merchants bid against each other until her price reached four thousand dinars. I said to myself: “I will buy her for my master, the sultan, as it was he who paid the price for her originally.” So I said to Nur al-Din: “My son, take four thousand dinars from me as her price.” When he heard this, he looked at me and said: “You ill-omened old man, I shall sell her to Jews and Christians, but I will not sell her to you.” “I am not buying her for myself,” I said, “but for our master, the sultan, who is our generous patron.” When he heard me say this, he became angry and dragged me from my horse, old man that I am. He struck me and went on punching me until he left me as you see me. The only reason for this was that I had come to buy the girl for you.’
Al-Mu‘in then threw himself on the ground and started to weep and to shake. When the sultan saw the state that he was in and heard what he had to say, the vein of anger stood out between his eyes. He turned to the officers of his court and ordered forty men armed with swords who were standing before him to go at once to the house of Nur al-Din, which they were to plunder and then to destroy. ‘Tie him and the girl with their hands behind their backs, drag them on their faces and bring them to me.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ they replied, and they armed themselves and left the palace to set off for Nur al-Din’s house.
The sultan had a chamberlain named ‘Alam al-Din Sanjar, who had originally been one of the mamluks of al-Fadl ibn Khaqan, Nur al-Din’s father. He had risen in rank until he had been employed as a chamberlain by the sultan. When he heard the sultan’s orders and saw how his enemies were getting ready to kill his old master’s son, he was not prepared to let this be. Leaving the sultan’s presence and mounting his horse, he rode to Nur al-Din’s house, where he knocked on the door. Nur al-Din came out and recognized him as soon as he saw him. ‘Alam al-Din then told him: ‘Master, this is not a time for greetings or for words. Listen to what the poet said:
If you meet injustice, save your life,
And let the house lament its builder.
You can replace the country you have left,
But there is no replacement for your life.’*
‘What is the news?’ asked Nur al-Din. ‘Get up and save yourself, you and the girl,’ replied ‘Alam al-Din. ‘Al-Mu‘in has laid a trap for you both, and if you fall into his hands, he will kill you. The sultan has sent forty swordsmen to take you, and my advice is to fly before you are harmed.’ He put his hand into the pocket of his sash, where he found forty dinars, and these he gave to Nur al-Din, saying: ‘Take these, master, and use them for your journey. If I had more, I would give it to you, but this is no time for reproaches.’
At that, Nur al-Din went in and told Anis al-Jalis, who was almost paralysed with fear. The two of them left the city at once, God covering them with the cloak of His shelter, and after they had walked to the river bank, they found a ship ready to sail. The captain was standing amidships and calling out: ‘If anyone needs to fetch provisions or to say goodbye to his family, or if anyone has forgotten anything, they should see to it now, for we are about to sail.’ All those on board replied: ‘We have nothing left to do,’ and at that the captain shouted to the crew: ‘Cast off the moorings and up with the poles.’ ‘Where are you heading for, captain?’ asked Nur al-Din. ‘The House of Peace, Baghdad,’ came the answer.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the thirty-sixth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O auspicious king, that the captain told Nur al-Din that he was bound for Baghdad. So Nur al-Din, together with Anis al-Jalis, went aboard. The vessel cast off, and when its sails were unfurled it moved like a bird on the wing, as has been well described by a poet:
Look at a ship, a captivating sight,
Racing the wind as it follows on its course,
Like a bird that has spread its wings,
Swooping from the air to skim the water.
It carried them off on a fair wind.
So much for them, but as for the mamluks, they came to Nur al-Din’s house and broke down the door, but when they entered and went through all the rooms, they could find no trace of their quarry, so they destroyed the house and went back to tell the sultan. ‘Search for them wherever they may be,’ he ordered, to which they replied: ‘To hear is to obey.’ Al-Mu‘in then went home with a robe of honour which the sultan had given him. He was in a calm state of mind for the sultan h
ad told him: ‘No one will take vengeance on your behalf but me.’ In return, he had prayed that the sultan would enjoy a long life.
The sultan then made a proclamation to the entire population of the city that whoever found Nur al-Din ‘Ali and brought him to him would receive a robe of honour and a gift of a thousand dinars, whereas if anyone hid him or knew where he was but failed to report him, he would bring down on himself an exemplary punishment. A thorough search was then made for Nur al-Din, but no trace of him or news of his whereabouts could be found.
So much for them, but as for Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis, they reached Baghdad without mishap. The captain said: ‘This is Baghdad, a safe city. The cold of winter has gone; spring has come with its roses; the blossom is on the trees, and the streams are flowing.’ Nur al-Din disembarked with Anis al-Jalis, and after he had given the captain five dinars, they walked for a while until, as fate had decreed, they found themselves in the middle of a garden. They came to a place which they found to have been swept out and sprinkled with water. There were benches running lengthways along it and hanging pots filled with water. A reed trellis sheltered the length of the path, and at the head of it was a garden gate, but this was locked. ‘This is a beautiful place,’ said Nur al-Din to Anis al-Jalis, and she suggested that they sit down on one of the benches to rest. They did this, and then they washed their faces and their hands, after which, as the breeze fanned them, they fell asleep – glory be to Him who does not sleep!
This garden was called the Garden of Pleasure and in it was a palace known as the Palace of Delight and of Statues, the property of Caliph Harun al-Rashid, who would come to the garden and the palace when he was feeling depressed, and sit there. The palace had eighty windows, with eighty hanging lamps, and in the middle there was a great candelabrum made of gold. When the caliph came in, he would tell the slave girls to open the windows. Then he would order the singing girls and his boon companion, Ishaq ibn Ibrahim, to sing, until his depression was relieved and his cares dispelled.
In charge of the garden was a very old man, Shaikh Ibrahim by name. When he went out on some errand, he had very often found pleasure seekers there accompanied by prostitutes, and that made him furiously angry. He waited until one day he had found an opportunity to tell this to the caliph, who had given him permission to do whatever he wanted with anyone he found on the benches by the garden gate. On that particular day, he had gone out to do something and by the gate he found Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis covered by a single mantle. ‘Good, by God,’ he said to himself. ‘These people don’t know that the caliph has given me official permission to kill anyone I find here. I shall give this pair an ignominious beating, so that no one else will ever come near this gate.’ So saying, he cut a green palm branch and went over to the two sleepers. He raised his arm until the white of his armpit could be seen and was on the point of striking them when he thought to himself: ‘Ibrahim, how can you strike them when you know nothing about them? They may be strangers or wanderers brought here by fate. I shall uncover their faces and take a look at them.’ So he lifted the mantle and then exclaimed: ‘What a handsome pair! I must not beat them.’ He covered up their faces again and began to massage Nur al-Din’s foot.
Nur al-Din opened his eyes, to find at his feet a venerable and dignified old man. In a state of embarrassment, he tucked in his feet and, sitting up, he took Ibrahim’s hand and kissed it. Ibrahim asked: ‘My son, where do you come from?’ Nur al-Din replied: ‘Sir, we are strangers,’ and his eyes brimmed with tears. Shaikh Ibrahim said: ‘Know, my son, that the Prophet – may God bless him and give him peace! – enjoined us to treat strangers hospitably.’ Then he added: ‘Why don’t you get up and go into the garden to enjoy yourselves and relax there?’ ‘Sir,’ asked Nur al-Din, ‘who owns this garden?’ In reply, Ibrahim told him that he himself had inherited it from his family, his intention being to put his visitors’ minds to rest and to encourage them to stroll round the garden.
When Nur al-Din heard this, he thanked him, after which he and Anis al-Jalis got up and, with Ibrahim leading the way, they went further into the garden – and what a garden it was! Its gate was arched like a vaulted hall, covered with vines, whose grapes varied in colour from ruby red to ebony black. They walked beneath a trellis where fruits hung in pairs or singly. On the branches birds sang tunefully, with the nightingale repeating her melodies and the turtledove filling the garden with song, the blackbird warbling like a human singer, and the ringdove singing like one drunk with wine. All kinds of edible fruits were there. There were camphor apricots, almond apricots and the apricots of Khurasan. There were plums coloured like beautiful girls, cherries that keep the teeth from turning yellow, and figs of two colours, red and white. There were flowers like pearls and coral. The redness of the rose put to shame the cheeks of the beautiful women; the violets were like sulphur to which fire has been put at night; and there was myrtle along with gillyflowers, lavender and red anemones. The leaves were bedewed with the tears of the clouds; the mouths of the camomiles smiled. The narcissus looked at the rose with its Negro’s eyes; the citrons were like cups and the lemons like nuts of gold. The ground was strewn with flowers of all kinds. Spring had come and its splendour added radiance to the garden. The streams murmured; the notes of the birds filled the air and the wind rustled, so temperate was the season.
Shaikh Ibrahim then took Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis into a vaulted hall. As they gazed upon its beauty and at the candles in the windows, Nur al-Din remembered past entertainments and said: ‘By God, this is a pleasant place!’ He and Anis al-Jalis sat down and Ibrahim brought out food, of which they ate their fill. Nur al-Din went to a window and called to Anis al-Jalis, who joined him there and they looked out at the trees with their various fruits. He then turned to Ibrahim and asked him whether he had anything to drink: ‘For people drink after they have eaten.’ Ibrahim brought him water, pleasant, cool and sweet, but he said: ‘This is not the type of drink that I want.’ ‘Perhaps you would prefer wine?’ asked Ibrahim, and when Nur al-Din said yes, he added: ‘I take refuge with God from wine. For thirteen years I have not drunk it, as the Prophet – may God bless him and give him peace! – cursed those who drink it as well as those who press its grapes, those who sell it and those who buy it.’ ‘Listen to a couple of words from me,’ said Nur al-Din, and when he was urged to go on, he said: ‘If this damned donkey is cursed, will the curse hurt you at all?’ ‘No,’ replied Ibrahim. ‘Then take this dinar,’ Nur al-Din told him, ‘and these two dirhams, get on the donkey and stop some distance away. When you come across someone making purchases, call to him and say: “Take these two dirhams and use this dinar to buy wine.” Then set the wine on the donkey, and as you will not have carried it or bought it, no harm will come to you from it.’
Ibrahim laughed when he heard this and said: ‘By God, my son, I have not met anyone with a more penetrating wit or more pleasant speech than you.’ So he did as Nur al-Din had asked him, and Nur al-Din thanked him and said: ‘We are now your responsibility and, as you must agree to what we ask, bring us what we need.’ ‘My son,’ said Ibrahim, ‘here in front of you is my pantry, a storeroom made ready for the Commander of the Faithful. Go and take what you like, for there is more there than you can need.’ Nur al-Din went in and found utensils of gold, silver and crystal, studded with gems of all kinds. He took them out, set them in a row, and poured wine into jugs and bottles. He was pleased by what he saw to the point of astonishment. Shaikh Ibrahim brought fruits and scented flowers, and then went and sat at some distance from the couple. They drank with enjoyment, and, as the wine took hold of them, their cheeks grew red, they exchanged amorous glances, and their hair hung down as their colour changed.
Shaikh Ibrahim said to himself: ‘Why am I sitting so far away? Why don’t I sit with them, and when else am I going to find myself in the company of two shining moons like these?’ He went up to sit at the edge of the dais, and when Nur al-Din urged him to come and sit with them, he came forwa
rd. The young man filled a glass and, addressing Ibrahim, said: ‘Drink this, so that you can see what it tastes like.’ ‘I take refuge with God,’ Ibrahim replied. ‘For thirteen years I have not touched a drop.’ Nur al-Din then drank the glass himself and threw himself on the ground, as though he was drunk. Anis al-Jalis then looked at him and said: ‘See how he treats me, Shaikh Ibrahim.’ ‘What is wrong with him, lady?’ asked Ibrahim. ‘He always does this to me,’ she replied. ‘He drinks for a time and then falls asleep, leaving me on my own with no one to share my glass with me, and no one for whom I can sing as he drinks.’
Filled with tenderness and sympathy towards her because of what she had said, Ibrahim exclaimed: ‘By God, that is not good.’ She filled a glass and, looking at him, she said: ‘By my life, please take this and drink it. Don’t reject it, but mend my broken heart.’ So Ibrahim put out his hand, took the glass and downed it. She then filled a second one, and setting it by a candle, she said: ‘There is still this one here for you.’ ‘By God, I cannot drink it,’ he replied. ‘The one that I had was enough for me.’ But when she insisted, he took it and drank it, after which she gave him a third, which he also took. He was about to drink when Nur al-Din stirred, sat up…
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 36