The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1

by Penguin; Robert Irwin; Malcolm Lyons; Ursula Lyons

  While we were talking, up came the whole crowd, together with the people of the quarter, men and women alike, who had come to mourn, accompanied by the wali and his escort. My master and the merchants went to the wali and told him about the affair and that this constituted half a lie. When he and the others heard that, they were struck by the enormity of the lie and were filled with astonishment, cursing and abusing me. I stood there laughing and saying: ‘How can my master kill me when he bought me knowing I had this defect?’

  When he got home, he found his house a wreck; it was I who had done most of the damage, and what I had broken was worth a large sum of money. His wife had broken things as well, but she told him that it was I who had smashed the vases and the china. My master grew even angrier, striking one hand against the other and saying: ‘By my life, I have never seen a bastard to match this black slave. He says that this is half a lie. If it were a full one, he would have destroyed a whole city or even two.’ In the heat of his anger he took me to the wali, who gave me a fine beating until I lost consciousness and fainted. My master left me unconscious, and brought a barber to me, who castrated me and cauterized the wound. When I came to my senses, it was to find myself a eunuch. My master said: ‘As you burned my heart with regret for the things I held dearest, so I have made your heart burn for the loss of the dearest part of your body.’ Then he took me and sold me for an exorbitant price as a eunuch, and I have gone on stirring up trouble in the households to which I have been sold, moving from emir to emir and great man to great man, being bought and sold until I came to the palace of the Commander of the Faithful, with a broken spirit, having lost my strength as well as my testicles.

  When the other two heard his story, they laughed and said: ‘You are dung, the son of dung, and you tell abominable lies.’ Then the remaining slave, Sawab, was told to tell them his story. ‘Cousins,’ he said, ‘what you have said is worthless stuff. I’ll tell you how I came to lose my testicles, and I deserved an even worse punishment, for I lay with my mistress as well as with my master’s son. But it is a long story and this is not the time to tell it, for it is getting close to dawn and if day breaks while we still have this chest with us, we’ll be exposed and lose our lives. So go and open the door and once we’ve done this and got back to the palace, I’ll tell you the story of my castration.’

  He then climbed the wall, dropped down and opened the door. The others came in, set down the lantern and dug a hole between four graves to match the length and breadth of the box. Kafur did the digging and Sawab carried away the earth in the basket, until they had dug down three feet. Then they lowered the chest into the hole, put the earth back on top of it and left the graveyard.

  When they were out of Ghanim’s sight and he was sure that the place was deserted and that he was alone again, he turned his attention to the contents of the chest, saying to himself: ‘What do you suppose is in it?’ He waited until dawn had broken and the light had spread. He then climbed down from his palm tree and removed the soil with his hands until he had uncovered the chest and freed it from the hole. With a big stone he struck and broke its lock and, after lifting the lid, he looked inside. There he saw a girl in a drugged sleep, with her breast rising and falling as she breathed. She was very beautiful, and was wearing ornaments, gold jewellery and jewelled necklaces, priceless stuff worth a sultan’s kingdom.

  When Ghanim saw her, realizing that someone must have entrapped her and drugged her, he set about removing her from the chest, laying her down on her back. When she sniffed the breeze, the air entered her nostrils and lungs, and she sneezed, then choked and coughed. A pill of Cretan banj fell out of her throat, a drug so strong that one sniff could put an elephant to sleep for twenty-four hours. She opened her eyes and looked around, before saying in a sweet, clear voice: ‘Ill wind, you cannot give drink to the thirsty nor do you show friendship to those who have drunk their fill. Where is Zahr al-Bustan?’ When no one answered her, she turned and cried: ‘Subiha, Shajarat al-Durr, Nur al-Huda, Najmat al-Subh, are you awake? Nuzha, Hulwa, Zarifa, speak.’ Again, no one answered, and she looked round and said sorrowfully: ‘Am I buried among the tombs? You, Who know the secrets of the hearts, and rewards and punishes all on the Day of Resurrection, who was it who brought me from the harem and placed me between four graves?’

  While she was speaking, Ghanim was standing by her. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘there are no boudoirs here, and no palaces or graves, but only your slave whose wits you have stolen, Ghanim ibn Ayyub, brought here by Him Who knows the unseen, to rescue you from this distress and to bring you to your heart’s desire.’ He then stayed silent, and when she had checked how things stood with her, she repeated the confession of faith: ‘I bear witness that there is no god but God and I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of God.’ Then she turned to Ghanim and, putting her hands over her face, she asked him in a sweet voice: ‘Blessed young man, who brought me here? Please tell me for I have now recovered my senses.’ ‘My lady,’ he replied, ‘three black eunuchs came carrying this chest,’ and he went on to tell her everything that happened to him and how he had found himself there the previous evening, this being what had led to her rescue, for otherwise she would have been smothered to death. He then asked her for her own story, but she said: ‘Praise be to God Who brought me into the hands of a man like you! Get up now, put me back in the chest and go out on to the road. When you find a donkey man or a muleteer, hire him to carry the chest and then bring me to your house. When I am there, all will be well and I shall tell you the whole of my story and good will come to you through me.’

  Ghanim gladly went out from the graveyard as the rays of dawn were spreading and light was filling the sky. People were on the move, and on the road he hired a muleteer, brought him to the graveyard and then lifted up the chest, into which he had already put the girl. Love for her had entered his heart and he went off with her happily. As a slave girl she was worth ten thousand dinars, while her ornaments and robes were enormously valuable. No sooner had he got to his house than he set the chest down, opened it…

  Nights 41 to 60

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the forty-first night, she continued:

  I have heard, O auspicious king, that when Ghanim brought the chest to his house, he opened it and brought the girl out. On looking around, she saw that she was in a handsome house, spread with carpets and adorned in attractive hangings and so forth. On seeing bundles and bales of materials and other such things, she realized that here was a merchant of substance, a man of great wealth. She uncovered her face, looked at him and, discovering him to be a handsome young man, she fell in love with him at first sight. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘bring us something to eat.’ ‘Willingly,’ he replied, and he then went down to the market, where he bought a roast lamb and a dish of sweetmeats. He also brought with him dried fruits, candles, wine and glasses, together with other such things needed for drinking, as well as perfumes. When he brought all this back home, the girl was glad to see him and laughed. She kissed him and embraced him and started to caress him. His love for her increased and took possession of his heart. The two of them then ate and drank until nightfall. Each of them had fallen in love with the other, as they were not only of the same age, but were matched in beauty.

  When night fell, Ghanim got up and lit the candles and the lamps, filling the room with light. He brought out the drinking glasses and set out a dinner table. The two of them then sat, and as he filled her glass and gave her wine to drink, she did the same for him. They were playing, laughing and reciting poetry as their gaiety increased, and each became more deeply in love with the other – glory be to God Who unites hearts! They kept on in this way until it was nearly dawn, when they were overcome by sleep and they slept where they were until morning came. Then Ghanim got up and went to the market, where he bought the food and drink that they needed – vegetables, meat, wine, and so on. He took these to the house, and the two of th
em sat down to eat until they had had enough. Then he produced the wine and they drank and played with each other until their cheeks grew red and their eyes darkened.

  Ghanim longed to kiss the girl and to sleep with her. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘allow me once to kiss your mouth, so that this may cool the fire of my heart.’ ‘Ghanim,’ she replied, ‘wait until I am drunk and unconscious, and then steal a kiss from me secretly, so that I don’t know that you have kissed me.’ She then stood up and took off some of her clothes, so that she was left sitting in a delicate shift, with a silken head covering. At that, Ghanim felt the stirrings of lust, and he said: ‘Lady, won’t you let me do what I asked you?’ ‘By God,’ she said, ‘that cannot be, as there is a hard word written on the waistband of my drawers.’ Ghanim was downcast, but as his goal became more distant, so the ardour of his love increased, and he recited:

  I asked the one who caused my sickness

  For a kiss to cure the pain.

  ‘No, no, never!’ the beloved said.

  But ‘Yes, yes!’ I replied.

  She smiled and said:

  ‘Take it with my goodwill by lawful means.’

  ‘By force?’ I asked, and she said, ‘No,

  But with my generous consent.’

  Do not enquire what happened then.

  Ask pardon from the Lord, for it is done.

  Think what you like of us;

  Suspicion makes love sweet,

  And after this, I do not care

  Whether a foe gives it away or keeps it hidden.

  His love now increased and the fires of passion spread through his heart’s blood. She kept on repulsing him and saying: ‘You cannot have me,’ but they continued to drink together as lovers. Ghanim was drowning in a sea of passion, while the girl became ever stricter in her modesty, until night brought its darkness and lowered the skirts of sleep on them. Ghanim got up to light the lamps and the candles, and he set the room and the table to rights. He then took her feet and kissed them, and, finding them like fresh butter, he rubbed his face on them. ‘Have pity, lady,’ he said, ‘on one enslaved by your love and slain by your eyes. But for you, my heart would have stayed whole.’ He then wept a little, and she said: ‘My master and light of my eyes, by God I love you and trust you, but I know that you cannot have me.’ ‘What is the hindrance?’ he asked. ‘Tonight,’ she said, ‘I shall tell you my story so that you may accept my excuse.’ Then she threw herself on him and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck as she comforted him and gave him promises of union. They continued to play and laugh until love for the other was firmly entrenched in each of their hearts.

  Things went on like this for a whole month. Every night they slept on the same bed, but every time that he asked her for union she rejected him, in spite of the fact that they loved each other and could scarcely endure to be kept apart. It happened then one night that, when the two of them were drunk and were lying there, Ghanim reached out and caressed her body. His hand went to her belly and down to her navel. This roused her and she sat up, inspected her drawers, but when she found that they were still fastened, she went to sleep again. He stroked her with his hand which slipped down to the waistband of her drawers. When he pulled at it, she woke up again and sat up, with Ghanim sitting by her side. ‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘To sleep with you,’ he replied, ‘and that we should be frank with one another.’ ‘The time has now come,’ she said, ‘for me to tell you about myself so that you may know my standing, discover my secret and see plainly my excuse.’ ‘Yes,’ he said, and at that she tore open the bottom of her shift and put her hand on the waistband of her drawers. ‘Master,’ she said, ‘read what is written on the border of this waistband.’ Ghanim took it in his hand and when he looked at it he found written on it in letters of gold: ‘I am yours and you are mine, cousin of the Prophet.’

  When he read this, he removed his hand and said: ‘Tell me your story.’ ‘I will,’ she replied, and went on: ‘You must know that I am the concubine of the Commander of the Faithful. My name is Qut al-Qulub and I was brought up in the caliph’s palace. When I grew up and the caliph saw my qualities and the beauty and grace with which God had endowed me, he fell deeply in love with me. He took me and installed me in an apartment of my own, giving me ten slave girls to serve me, and he then presented me with the jewellery which you see that I have with me. One day when he had left on a journey to some part of his lands, the Lady Zubaida approached one of my slave girls, telling her that she wanted her to do something. ‘What is that, my lady?’ asked the girl. ‘When your mistress Qut al-Qulub is asleep, put this piece of banj in her nostrils or her drink and I will give you all the money that you want.’

  The girl willingly agreed and took the banj from her, delighted by the thought of the money, and also because originally she had been one of Zubaida’s maids. She came to me and put the drug in the drink which I took that night. When it had lodged within me, I fell head over heels, conscious only of being in some other world. When her ruse had succeeded, Zubaida had me placed in a chest and summoned the black slaves in secret, bribing them, together with the gatekeepers. Then she sent me off with them on the night that you were hiding on top of the palm tree. You saw what they did to me; it is you who saved me and you who brought me here and treated me with the utmost kindness. This is my story and I don’t know what has happened to the caliph in my absence. So you have to acknowledge my high standing, and you must not let anyone know what has happened to me.’

  When Ghanim heard what Qut al-Qulub had to say and realized that she was the caliph’s concubine, fear of the caliph made him draw back and he sat by himself in a corner of the room, blaming himself, thinking over his position and telling himself to be patient. He remained bewildered because of his love for an unattainable beloved, and the violence of his passion caused him to weep as he complained of the hostile assaults of Time – Glory be to the One Who kindles hearts with love for the beloved! He recited:

  The heart of the lover wearies for his beloved;

  Unique in beauty, the loved one steals his wits.

  Men ask me: ‘What is the taste of love?’

  ‘Sweet,’ I reply, ‘but it contains torture.’

  At that, Qut al-Qulub got up, embraced Ghanim and kissed him. Love for him was firmly rooted in her heart; she had told him her secret and shown how deeply she felt for him. Winding her arms around his neck she kissed him again, while he tried to keep away from her, for fear of the caliph. They talked for a while, drowning as they were in the ocean of their love. When day broke, Ghanim got up, dressed and went out as usual to the market. He bought all that was needed and then came back to the house, where he found Qut al-Qulub in tears. When she saw him, she stopped crying and smiled. ‘I was lonely because of you, heart’s darling,’ she said. ‘The hour that you have been away from me has been like a year because of our parting. Thanks to my deep love for you, I told you how things are with me, so come now, forget the past, and take me as you want.’ ‘God forbid,’ he said. ‘This can never be. How can the dog sit in the lion’s place? What belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.’

  Dragging himself away from her, he sat down in the corner on a mat. His abstinence increased her love for him, and she sat beside him, drinking with him and playing with him. They became drunk and she longed to be possessed by him. So she sang these lines:

  The infatuated lover’s heart is almost shattered;

  How long, how long, will you turn away from me?

  You shun me though I am guilty of no fault;

  It is the habit of gazelles to play.

  Shunning, remoteness, constant separation –

  All this is more than a young man can bear.

  Ghanim wept, and she shared his tears and they continued to drink until night, when Ghanim got up and spread two beds, each in a place by itself. ‘For whom is the second bed?’ asked Qut al-Qulub. ‘For me,’ he replied, ‘and the other is for you, as from this night on, this is the way in which w
e shall sleep; for everything that belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.’ ‘No more of this,’ she said. ‘Everything happens by the decree of fate.’ He refused to yield and her heart burned with love. As her passion increased, she clung to him and said: ‘By God, we are going to sleep together.’ ‘God forbid,’ he exclaimed, and getting the better of her persistence, he slept alone until morning, with her love and passion increasing and her longing becoming still more violent.

  For three long months they went on like this; every time she approached him, he would draw away from her, repeating that what belonged to the master was unlawful for the slave. Because of this prolonged delay in her union with him, Qut al-Qulub’s sorrow and distress increased, and she recited these lines with a sad heart:

  Peerless in your beauty, what false charges do you bring,

  And who incited you to turn away from me?

  Yours is the ideal grace and every elegance.

  You move each heart to passion and empower

  Sleeplessness over all eyelids.

  Fruit has been plucked from branches before you;

  Branch of the thorn bush, how do you wrong me?

  I used to hunt gazelles, so how is it

  I see them hunting hunters, armed with shields?

  The strangest thing I have to tell of you is that

  I am infatuated, but you know nothing of my moans.

  Never allow me union; if I am

  Jealous for you of yourself, how much more, then, of me?

  While life remains, I shall not say again:

  ‘Peerless in your beauty, what false charges do you bring?’

  They stayed like this for a time, with Ghanim being kept from Qut al-Qulub out of fear. So much for him, the slave of love, the man robbed of his wits. As for Lady Zubaida, after she had done what she did to Qut al-Qulub in the caliph’s absence, she remained perplexed, wondering to herself what she could say when he came back and asked about the girl. So she called an old woman who was in her service, told her the secret and asked her what she should do, now that Qut al-Qulub had died an untimely death. The old woman grasped the position and said: ‘Know, mistress, that the caliph will soon be here. Send for a carpenter and tell him to make what looks like a corpse out of wood. Then we can dig a grave for it in the middle of the palace, bury it, and make a shrine, where we can burn candles and lamps. Everyone in the palace should wear black, and the slave girls and the eunuchs must be told that, when they hear that the caliph has returned from his journey, they are to spread straw in the halls. When the caliph comes in and asks about this, they are to say: “Qut al-Qulub is dead, may God compensate you amply for her. So highly did our mistress regard her that she had her buried in her own palace.”