At midnight Nuzhat al-Zaman got up, and dressed as a man, being of the same age as Dau’ al-Makan. She took some money with her and walked as far as the palace gate, where she found that her brother had provided camels. He mounted his and helped her to mount, after which they set off in the night and mixed with the pilgrims, going on until they were in the middle of the Iraqi contingent. They continued on the journey until by God’s decree they reached the noble city of Mecca in safety. They stood at ‘Arafat and performed the ceremonies of the pilgrimage, after which they went on to pay their visit to the grave of the Prophet. They had intended after that to go back with the pilgrims to their own country, but Dau’ al-Makan told his sister that he had a mind to visit Jerusalem as well as the city of Abraham, the Friend of God. ‘So do I,’ she said, and this is what they agreed to do, after which Dau’ al-Makan went out and bought a passage for the two of them with the Jerusalem pilgrims. They set off with their caravan, and that night Nuzhat al-Zaman succumbed to a fever, but after a period of illness she recovered. Next it was her brother who fell ill and she nursed him tenderly. The two of them went on until they got to Jerusalem, but Dau’ al-Makan’s illness became worse and he became weaker and weaker. They stopped at a khan there and hired a room for themselves in which they stayed as Dau’ al-Makan became more and more seriously ill until he was emaciated and unconscious. This distressed his sister and she exclaimed: ‘There is no might and no power except with God, the Exalted, the Omnipotent! This is God’s decree.’
She stayed there with her brother, nursing him as he grew weaker and spending her money on him and on herself. Eventually, all she had was used up and she was reduced to absolute penury, having not a single dirham left. She sent the servant boy of the khan to the market with some of her clothes, which he sold, and she spent the money on her brother. Then she sold another item, and she went on selling what she had, bit by bit, until the only thing left was a tattered mat. She wept and said: ‘God ordains the past and the future.’ Her brother said to her: ‘Sister, I feel that I am getting better and I think that I would like some roast meat.’ ‘By God, brother,’ she replied, ‘I am ashamed to beg, but tomorrow I will enter some great man’s house, act as a servant and work to get something to feed us both.’
She thought for a while and then said: ‘It is not easy for me to leave you while you are in this state, but I shall go even so.’ ‘Are you to fall from grandeur to humiliation?’ he asked, adding: ‘There is no might and power except with God.’ He then burst into tears and so did she, and she said to him: ‘We are strangers here, brother, and we have stayed for a whole year without anyone knocking on our door. Are we to die of hunger? I cannot think of anything else to do except to go out and get a job as a servant so that I can fetch food to support us until you get better, after which we can go back to our own country.’
For a time she stayed there in tears and he lay back and wept, but then she got up and covered her head with a piece from a cloak that had belonged to one of the camel drivers, who had left it with them and forgotten about it. She kissed her brother’s head, embraced him and then went out. She was in tears and did not know where to go, but she continued on her way. Her brother waited expectantly for her until evening, but she did not come back, and although he went on waiting until daybreak, she still had not returned. Things went like this for two days and he was greatly distressed, shuddering with fear for his sister, while the pangs of hunger grew worse and worse. Finally he left his room and called to the servant boy, asking to be carried to the market. The boy carried him and put him down there.
The people of Jerusalem gathered around him and shed tears when they saw the state he was in. He made signs to show that he wanted something to eat and one of the merchants from the market provided some money with which food was bought and given to him. Then they carried him off and set him down in a booth where they had spread a piece of matting. By his head they placed a water jar, but when night fell, they all left, although they were still concerned about him.
Halfway through the night, he remembered his sister. His illness worsened; he neither ate nor drank but lost consciousness. The market folk collected thirty silver dirhams for him from the merchants and they hired a camel for him, telling the camel driver to take him to Damascus and deliver him to the hospital, in the hope that he might recover his health. The camel driver agreed, while to himself he said: ‘Am I to go off with this sick man, who is on the point of death?’ So he took him to a hiding place where he kept him until nightfall, after which he threw him on a rubbish heap attached to the furnace of a bath house, and went on his way.
In the morning, when the furnace man of the bath house came to work, he found Dau’ al-Makan lying on his back. ‘Why do they have to throw this corpse here?’ he said to himself and he kicked the body with his feet. It moved and he said to himself: ‘Someone has been chewing hashish and has thrown himself down in the first place he came to.’ Then he looked at Dau’ al-Makan’s face and found that he had no hair on his cheeks and was marked by splendour and beauty. He was moved to pity and realized that this was a sick man and a stranger. ‘There is no might and no power except with God!’ he exclaimed. ‘I was wrong about this boy. The Prophet told us to honour strangers, especially if they are ill.’ So he picked up Dau’ al-Makan and brought him to his house, where he took him to his wife, telling her to look after him and to spread out a rug for him. This she did, and she placed a pillow under his head, heated water for him and used it to wash his hands, feet and face. The furnace man then went off to the market where he bought some rosewater and some sugar. He sprinkled the rosewater over Dau’ al-Makan’s face, gave him a sugar drink and brought out a clean shirt, which he put on him.
Dau’ al-Makan sniffed the scent of good health and, beginning to recover, he propped himself up on the pillow. This delighted the furnace man, who praised God for the boy’s recovery and said: ‘God, I implore You by Your hidden secret, that You allow me to save this youth.’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the fifty-fourth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the furnace man said: ‘God, I implore You by Your hidden secret, that you allow me to save this youth.’ For three days he continued to look after Dau’ al-Makan, giving him drinks made with sugar, willow-flower and rosewater, and nursing him with tender care until his body was suffused with good health. He opened his eyes, and when the furnace man came in to visit him, he saw him sitting up and looking animated. ‘How are you now, my boy?’ he asked. ‘Praise be to God,’ Dau’ al-Makan replied. ‘I am now well and in good health, if God Almighty wishes it.’ The furnace man praised God for this and went off to the market where he bought ten chickens for the boy. He brought these to his wife, telling her to kill two of them each day, one early in the morning and one in the evening. She got up and killed one, which she boiled and brought to her patient to eat, making him drink the chicken broth. When he had finished his meal, she fetched him hot water. He washed his hands and propped himself up on his pillow, after which she covered him with a sheet. He slept until afternoon when she boiled him another chicken, brought it and cut it up for him, saying: ‘Eat, my son.’
While he was eating, the furnace man came in and found her feeding him. He sat down by his head and asked him how he was now. ‘Praise be to God, I am well,’ Dau’ al-Makan replied, ‘and may God reward you well on my behalf.’ The furnace man was glad to hear that and he went out and brought a drink flavoured with violets and rosewater, which he gave him. This man used to work in the baths for a daily wage of five dirhams. For Dau’ al-Makan he would spend every day one dirham on sugar, rosewater, violet sherbet and willow-flower water, while for another dirham he would buy chickens.
He went on ministering to Dau’ al-Makan for a month, until the signs of illness had vanished and he was restored to health. This delighted both the furnace man and his wife, and he then asked whether Dau’ a
l-Makan would like to go with him to the baths. When he said that he would, the furnace man went to the market and fetched a donkey man. He mounted the convalescent on the donkey and supported him on the saddle until he had taken him to the baths, where he made him sit down while he took the donkey man into the furnace room. He himself went off to the market where he bought lotus leaves and lupin flour for him. ‘Master,’ he then said, ‘in God’s Name, go in and I shall wash your body.’ So the two of them went into the baths and the furnace man began to rub Dau’ al-Makan’s legs, after which he started to bathe his body with the lotus leaves and the lupin flour.
An attendant, sent by the supervisor of the baths for Dau’ al-Makan, then arrived and found the furnace man washing him and rubbing his legs. The newcomer went up and told him that he was infringing the supervisor’s rights, to which the furnace man replied: ‘The supervisor has overwhelmed us with his generosity.’ The attendant then started to shave Dau’ al-Makan’s head, after which he and the furnace man bathed.
The furnace man took Dau’ al-Makan back to his house and clothed him in a fine shirt, with some of his own clothes, an excellent turban and fine belt, winding a scarf around his neck. His wife had killed and cooked two chickens for him, and when he came in and sat on the bed, the furnace man melted some sugar in willow-flower water and gave it him to drink. He then brought up a table and started to carve the chickens for him to eat, giving him the broth to drink, until he had had enough. Dau’ al-Makan then washed his hands and gave thanks to Almighty God for having restored his health.
To the furnace man he said: ‘It is you who have been given to me as a favour by Almighty God, Who made you the instrument of my survival.’ ‘Don’t talk like that,’ said the furnace man, ‘but tell me what brought you to this city and where you came from, for I see in your face signs of prosperity.’ ‘Tell me how you came across me,’ said Dau’ al-Makan, ‘and then I shall tell you my story.’ ‘As far as that goes,’ the furnace man exclaimed, ‘I was on my way to work and I found you when it was almost dawn, lying on a rubbish heap by the door of the furnace room. I didn’t know who had thrown you down there and so I took you to my house. That is my story.’
‘Glory to God, Who gives life to dry bones!’ exclaimed Dau’ al-Makan. ‘You have befriended one who is worthy of your kindness, and you will reap the fruits of that.’ He went on to ask the man where he was. ‘You are in the city of Jerusalem,’ was the reply. At that, Dau’ al-Makan remembered how he had left home and, thinking about his parting from his sister, he wept. He then revealed his secret to the furnace man, told him his story and recited the lines:
They burdened me with a love I cannot bear;
Because of them I cannot control myself.
You who are leaving, be gentle with my heart’s blood:
When you have gone, malicious enemies will pity me.
Do not grudge me one single glance
To lighten my lot and the excess of my love.
I asked endurance from my heart, but it replied:
‘It is not my habit to endure.’
He then shed more tears and the furnace man told him: ‘Don’t weep, but praise Almighty God for your preservation and the recovery of your health.’ ‘How far is it from here to Damascus?’ Dau’ al-Makan asked. ‘Six days,’ he replied. ‘Can you send me there?’ Dau’ al-Makan asked, but the furnace man said: ‘Master, how could I let you go by yourself, when you are a young boy and a stranger? If you want to go there, I am the one who will go with you and, if my wife is willing to listen obediently and to go with me, I shall stay there, for I would not find it easy to part from you.’ He then asked his wife whether she would go with him to Damascus, or would prefer to stay in Jerusalem until he had brought Dau’ al-Makan to Damascus and then come back to her. ‘He wants to go to Damascus,’ he added, ‘and it would be difficult for me to part from him, as I’m afraid that he might meet with highwaymen.’ His wife agreed to come with them. ‘Praise be to God that we are agreed,’ he said. ‘The matter is settled.’ He then went and sold his possessions and those of his wife.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the fifty-fifth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the furnace man and his wife agreed with Dau’ al-Makan to go with him to Damascus. The man then went and sold his possessions and those of his wife. He bought a camel and hired a donkey, on which he mounted Dau’ al-Makan. They then set off and after a journey of six days they came to Damascus towards evening, after which the furnace man went and bought food and drink for them as usual. They stayed like that for five days, but then, after a few days’ illness, the furnace man’s wife passed on, to the mercy of Almighty God. This was a blow to Dau’ al-Makan because he had become used to her and she had attended to his needs, while her death caused her husband bitter grief. Dau’ al-Makan turned to him and, finding him sad, he said to him: ‘Do not grieve; this is a door through which all shall enter.’ ‘May God reward you,’ the man replied, ‘and may He compensate us in His grace and remove sorrow from us. Would you like to cheer yourself by going out with me and looking around Damascus?’ ‘As you wish,’ said Dau’ al-Makan, and the furnace man got up and took Dau’ al-Makan’s hand in his, after which they went off until eventually they came to the stable of the governor of Damascus.
Here they found milling crowds, camels laden with chests, carpets and brocades, as well as saddled-up horses, Bactrian camels, black slaves and mamluks. ‘Who do you suppose owns these mamluks, as well as the camels and all the goods?’ wondered Dau’ al-Makan. He asked one of the eunuchs where the presents were being sent, and the man replied that this was a gift from the governor of Damascus which was being forwarded, together with the Syrian tribute, to King ‘Umar ibn al-Nu‘man. When he heard this, Dau al-Makan’s eyes filled with tears and he recited the lines:
You who are beyond the range of sight,
But are still lodged within my heart,
I can no longer see your loveliness; my life holds
No sweetness, but my longing does not change.
If God decrees that I meet you again,
I have a long story of my passion to tell you.
On finishing these lines, he burst into tears. His companion said: ‘My son, we could scarcely believe that you had recovered, so be cheerful and do not weep, or else I’m afraid you might have a relapse.’ He went on speaking gently and joking with him, while Dau’ al-Makan kept sighing in regret for his exile and the parting from his sister and his kingdom. He then recited the following lines in tears:
Acquire provisions of piety in this world, for you will leave,
And know there is no doubt that death is on its way.
The comfort you have here is all deceit and grief;
Your worldly life is absurd vanity.
This world is like a traveller’s camping ground;
He halts there in the evening and in the morning he is gone.
Dau’ al-Makan continued to weep, lamenting his exile, while his companion wept for the loss of his wife, but still kept comforting Dau’ al-Makan until morning. When the sun rose, he said: ‘You seem to have remembered your own land.’ ‘Yes,’ replied Dau’ al-Makan, ‘I cannot stay here. I must say goodbye to you, for I am going to set out with these people and accompany them by short stages until I reach my own country.’ ‘I will go with you,’ said the other, ‘for I cannot bear to part from you. I have done you a favour and I want to complete it by serving you.’ ‘May God reward you well on my behalf,’ said Dau’ al-Makan, who was delighted that he was coming with him. The man went off immediately and bought another donkey, selling the camel and buying provisions for the journey. Then he told Dau’ al-Makan: ‘Ride on this donkey, and when you are tired of riding, you can dismount and walk.’ ‘God bless you,’ said Dau’ al-Makan, ‘and may He help me to repay you, for you have treated me better than a man treats his own brother.’ They waited for the darkness of
night, when they loaded their provisions on to the donkey and then set off.
So much for Dau’ al-Makan and the furnace man. As for his sister, Nuzhat al-Zaman, she had left their khan in Jerusalem, wrapped in a cloak and hoping to find someone who would take her as a servant, so that she could buy the roast meat that her brother wanted. She was in tears; she had no idea where she was going and her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her brother. Thinking of her family and her homeland, she started to implore Almighty God to ward off her misfortunes, and she recited these lines:
The night is dark; passion has stirred up sickness,
While longing has aroused the pains I feel.
The pangs of parting settled in my heart –
And thanks to passion nothing of me is left –
Disturbing me, while longing burns my heart,
As tears reveal the secret that was hidden.
I know no way by which I can reach union,
So as to banish the weakness disease has brought.
The fire of my heart is kindled by this longing
While its blaze leaves the lover in distress.
You blame me for my suffering; it is enough.
I endure what the pen of destiny has decreed.
I swear by love that I shall never be consoled,
And oaths that lovers take remain inviolate.
Night, carry news of me to those who tell of love;
Bear witness that you know I have not slept.
Then, shedding more tears, she started to walk, turning from one side to the other, until suddenly she came across an old man on his way from the desert with five Bedouin. He turned towards her and saw that although she was beautiful, her head was covered with a torn cloak. He was amazed at her beauty and said to himself: ‘This is an astonishingly lovely girl, but she is in a squalid state. Whether she comes from this city or is a stranger, I must have her.’ He began to follow her slowly, until in a narrow place he crossed her path. He then called out, asking her about herself, and saying: ‘Little daughter, are you freeborn or are you a slave?’ When she heard this, she looked at him and said: ‘By your life, I implore you not to load me with any new sorrows.’ He said: ‘I had six daughters, but five of them are dead and only one, the youngest, is left. The reason that I came up was to ask you whether you belong to this city or are a stranger, so that I might take you off and make you my daughter’s companion, in the hope that you could distract her from her grief for her sisters. If you have nobody else, I will make you like one of them and you will be a child of mine.’
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 48