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

by Penguin; Robert Irwin; Malcolm Lyons; Ursula Lyons

  When Nuzhat al-Zaman heard this, she said to herself: ‘It may be that I can trust myself to this old man.’ Then, hanging her head in shame, she said: ‘Uncle, I am a Bedouin girl, a stranger, and I have a sick brother. I will go to your daughter with you on condition that I stay with her by day and go back to my brother by night. If you agree to this, I shall come with you. I am a stranger here, but I was of high rank among my own people, although I am now lowly and wretched. My brother and I are from the Hijaz, and I’m afraid that he doesn’t know where I am.’ When the Bedouin heard this, he said to himself: ‘By God, I’ve got what I was looking for.’ He turned to her and said: ‘There is no one dearer to me than you. I only want you to keep my daughter company by day, and at nightfall you can go back to your brother or, if you prefer, you can move him to my camp.’ He went on speaking encouragingly and gently to her until she yielded and agreed to serve him. He walked in front of her and she followed, and he then winked at his companions, who went on ahead. They made ready the camels, loaded them, setting water and provisions on their backs, in readiness to leave as soon as the old man arrived.

  Now this Bedouin was a bastard, a highway robber, a betrayer of companions, a thief and a wily schemer. He had no daughter and no son, and had merely happened to be passing when he fell in with this unfortunate girl, in accordance with God’s decree. On the way, he kept on talking to her until he was outside Jerusalem and had rejoined his companions. Seeing that the camels were ready, he mounted one and took Nuzhat al-Zaman up behind him. They travelled the whole night and she soon realized that what he had said was a trick and that he had deceived her. She started to weep and shriek the whole night long, but the Bedouin rode on, making for the mountains, for fear that they be seen. When it was nearly dawn, they dismounted and the old man went up to Nuzhat al-Zaman and said: ‘City girl, what’s all this weeping? By God, if you don’t stop, I’ll beat you to death, you town whore.’ When she heard what he said, life seemed unbearable and she wanted to die. She turned to him and said: ‘You ill-omened old man, you greybeard from hell, how could I have looked for protection from you when you were betraying me and wanting to torture me?’ On hearing this, the Bedouin replied: ‘Whore, do you have a tongue to answer me back?’ He went up to her with a whip and struck her, threatening to kill her if she didn’t stay silent. For a time she did keep quiet, but thinking of her brother and the luxury which she had enjoyed, she wept secretly.

  The following day, she turned to the Bedouin and asked: ‘What is this trick that you are playing on me by bringing me to these barren mountains, and what are you going to do with me?’ The man’s heart was hardened when he heard this and he said: ‘Ill-omened whore, do you have a tongue to answer me back?’ and he struck her on the back with his whip until she fainted. Then she fell at his feet and kissed them, at which he stopped beating her and started to abuse her, saying: ‘I swear by my cap that if I see or hear you crying, I’ll cut out your tongue and stuff it up between your thighs, you town whore.’ At that she kept quiet and did not answer him.

  She was in pain because of her beating and she squatted down with her arms around her knees and her head sunk in her collar. She thought of the wretched plight that had succeeded the honour that she had enjoyed, as well as of her beating, and she thought of her brother, ill and alone, and of how they were both in a strange land. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wept in secret, reciting the lines:

  It is Time’s custom to go back and forth;

  No single state stays fixed for mortal men.

  There is a term for every worldly thing,

  And each man’s term must arrive at an end.

  How many injuries and fears must I endure?

  How sad that this is all my life contains!

  May God not bless the days when I was honoured,

  As folded in that honour was disgrace.

  My quest has failed; my hopes are at an end;

  Union is severed now by banishment.

  You who pass by my dwelling, take the news

  To my beloved that my tears flow down.

  When she had finished her poem, the Bedouin felt sympathy and pitied her. He wiped away her tears and gave her a barley scone. ‘I don’t like people who answer me back when I am angry,’ he told her, ‘so don’t use any of these ugly words in reply to me, and I’ll sell you to a good man like myself who will treat you well, as I myself have done.’ ‘What kindness!’ she exclaimed, and then, finding the night passed slowly and suffering from the pangs of hunger, she ate a small piece of her scone.

  At midnight, the Bedouin ordered his party to move off…

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the Bedouin gave Nuzhat al-Zaman a barley scone and promised to sell her to a good man like himself. ‘What kindness!’ she exclaimed, and then, finding the night passed slowly and suffering from the pangs of hunger, she ate a small piece of her scone.

  At midnight the Bedouin ordered his party to move off. They loaded up the camels, and the Bedouin mounted one, taking Nuzhat al-Zaman up behind him. They travelled continuously for three days, after which they halted at Damascus and lodged at Khan al-Sultan beside Bab al-Na’ib. Nuzhat al-Zaman’s colour had changed because of her grief and the weariness brought on by the journey. She started to weep and the Bedouin came up to her and snarled: ‘City girl, I swear by my cap that if you don’t stop crying, I’ll sell you to no one but a Jew!’ He then took her by the hand and brought her to a room at the khan before going off to the market. He passed by merchants who dealt in slave girls and started talking to them and telling them: ‘I have a girl whom I have brought with me. She has a sick brother whom I sent to my family in the lands of Jerusalem so that they might tend to him until he gets better. I want to sell her, but since her brother fell ill she has been weeping and finding it hard to bear being parted from him. So I’d like whoever wants to buy her from me to speak gently to her and to tell her: “Your brother is in my house in Jerusalem, sick.” I’ll then cut her price.’

  One of the merchants asked him her age. ‘She is a virgin and nubile,’ he replied, ‘and she is intelligent, cultured, clever and beautiful, but since I sent her brother to Jerusalem, she has been full of concern for him and has lost some of her beauty as her good looks have altered.’ When the merchant heard that, he walked with the Bedouin and said: ‘Shaikh of the Arabs, I shall go with you to buy this girl whom you praise for her intelligence, culture and beauty. I shall pay you her price, but I shall lay down some conditions. If you accept them, then you can have the purchase price in ready cash, but otherwise I’ll return her to you.’ ‘If you wanted,’ said the Bedouin, ‘you could take her to the sultan and lay down what conditions you liked for me. If you bring her to Sultan Sharkan, she may be to his taste and he may pay you her price and give you a good profit.’ ‘I have something that I want from him,’ the merchant told him, ‘which is that he should give me an official document freeing me from customs tolls and that he should write me a recommendation to his father King ‘Umar ibn al-Nu‘man. If he accepts the girl from me, I shall pay you her price on the spot.’

  The Bedouin accepted the condition and the two of them went to Nuzhat al-Zaman’s room. The Bedouin stood at the door and called: ‘Najiya,’ this being the name that he had given her. When she heard him, she burst into tears and made no answer. The Bedouin turned to the merchant and said: ‘She is sitting here, so do you deal with her. Go to her, look at her and speak gently to her, as I told you.’ The merchant went in and stood there politely. He found that the girl was wonderfully beautiful, and, in particular, that she knew Arabic. ‘If she has the qualities you described,’ he told the Bedouin, ‘thanks to her I shall get what I want from the sultan.’ He then greeted the girl and asked: ‘Little daughter, how are you?’ She turned to him and said: ‘That is written in the book of fate.’

  She saw
that the newcomer was a respectable man with a handsome face and she said to herself: ‘I think that this man has come to buy me,’ adding: ‘If I refuse to have anything to do with him, I shall have to stay with this evil Bedouin and he will beat me to death. At all events, this one has a handsome face, and I can hope for better treatment from him than from this boor of a Bedouin. It may be that he has only come to listen to how I speak and so I will answer him politely.’ All the while her eyes had been fixed on the ground, but now she looked up at him and said sweetly: ‘Peace be on you, sir, together with God’s mercy and his blessings, as this is a greeting enjoined by the Prophet. As for your question about how I am, if you want to know, mine is a state which you would not wish any but your enemies to experience.’

  She fell silent, leaving the merchant, who had been listening to her, beside himself with joy. He turned to the Bedouin and asked her price, saying that she was of noble blood. The man was angry and said: ‘You have spoiled the girl for me by saying this. Why do you say that she is of noble blood? She is only a miserable slave girl from the dregs of the people and I won’t sell her to you.’ When he heard this, the merchant realized that the man was a fool. ‘Don’t upset yourself,’ he said. ‘I shall buy her from you in spite of the defects that you have mentioned.’ ‘How much will you pay me for her?’ asked the Bedouin. ‘It is only the father who names the child,’ replied the merchant. ‘Ask what you want.’ ‘It’s up to you to speak,’ said the Bedouin. ‘This man is a hot-headed boor,’ the merchant told himself. ‘By God, I don’t know how to set a price on her, but she has won my heart with her eloquence and her beauty. If she can read and write, this would complete the good fortune that she would bring both to herself and to whoever buys her, but this Bedouin has no notion of her value.’

  So he turned to the man and said: ‘Shaikh of the Arabs, I’ll give you two hundred dinars clear profit over and above the tax and the sultan’s dues.’ When he heard this, the Bedouin shouted furiously at him: ‘Be off with you. By God, if you were to give me two hundred dinars for this bit of cloak that she is wearing, I wouldn’t sell it to you. I shan’t put her up for sale again, but I’ll keep her with me to pasture the camels and grind the flour.’ Then he shouted to her: ‘Come here, you stinking girl. I’m not going to sell you.’ Turning to the merchant, he said: ‘I thought you were a knowledgeable man, but I swear by my cap, that if you don’t leave at once, I’ll say things you won’t want to hear.’ ‘This fellow is mad,’ said the merchant to himself. ‘He doesn’t know the girl’s value, but I won’t say anything about her price to him now. If he were a sensible man, he wouldn’t swear by his cap. By God, the girl is worth Chosroe’s kingdom. I haven’t got the money with me to pay for her, but if he asks me for more, I’ll give him whatever he wants, even if he takes all that I have.’

  So he turned to the Bedouin and said: ‘Shaikh of the Arabs, be patient and don’t upset yourself, but tell me what you have for her in the way of clothes.’ ‘What kind of clothes suit a whore like this? By God, this cloak in which she is wrapped is more than enough for her.’ ‘By your leave,’ said the merchant, ‘I shall unveil her and examine her, front and back, as one examines a slave girl for sale.’ ‘Do what you want, may God preserve your youth,’ said the Bedouin. ‘Examine her outside and inside, and if you want, strip off her clothes and look at her naked.’ ‘God forbid,’ said the merchant, ‘I shall only look at her face.’ He then went up to her, abashed by her beauty.

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the fifty-seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the merchant went up to her, abashed by her beauty. He sat down beside her and said: ‘Lady, what is your name?’ ‘Do you mean my present name,’ she said, ‘or my earlier one?’ ‘Do you have one name today and another yesterday?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I used to be called Nuzhat al-Zaman, but now my name is Ghussat al-Zaman.’* When he heard this, the merchant’s eyes filled with tears and he said: ‘Have you a sick brother?’ ‘Yes, by God, sir, but time has parted us and he is in Jerusalem on his sickbed.’ The merchant was astonished by the sweetness of her words and realized that the Bedouin had told the truth. Nuzhat al-Zaman then recalled her brother, his illness, his exile from home, how she had parted from him when he was sick, and how she did not know what had happened to him. She thought of her own experience with the Bedouin and of how far she was from her mother and father and her own land. The tears flowed down her cheeks, and weeping, she recited these lines:

  God keep you safe wherever you may be;

  You have travelled away but stay fixed in my heart.

  Wherever you may be, may God protect you,

  Guarding you through the changing course of Time.

  You have left, and my eyes have missed your presence,

  While my tears pour down in floods.

  I wish I knew your spring camp or your land,

  Whether you are settled in a house or with a tribe.

  It may be that you drink the water of life

  Within green pastures, but my drink is tears.

  Though you may sleep, the coals of sleeplessness

  Are here between my body and my bed.

  My heart finds all else easy but to part from you,

  And nothing else, except for that, is hard.

  When he heard these lines of hers, the merchant wept and put up his hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. ‘God forbid!’ she exclaimed, covering her face. The Bedouin sat watching her as she did this and, thinking that she was trying to stop the merchant kissing her, he ran up to her, lifting up a camel halter in his hand, with which he struck her a violent blow on the shoulders. She fell face downwards on the ground and a pebble cut open her eyebrow, so that blood poured down over her face. She uttered a loud cry and was overcome by faintness. As she wept, the merchant wept with her. ‘I must buy this girl,’ he told himself, ‘even if I have to pay her weight in gold, so as to rescue her from this tyrant.’ He started to abuse the Bedouin as Nuzhat al-Zaman lay fainting, and when she recovered, she wiped the tears and the blood from her face and tied a cloth around her head. She then raised her eyes to the heavens and prayed to her Lord with a sorrowful heart, reciting the lines:

  Have mercy on one who was honoured, then unjustly shamed.

  With flowing tears she says: ‘I can do nothing against fate.’

  On finishing these lines, she turned to the merchant and said in a low voice: ‘I implore you in God’s Name, don’t leave me with this tyrant, who knows nothing of Almighty God. If I have to spend the night with him, I shall kill myself with my own hand. Save me from him, and God will save you from hellfire.’ So the merchant went to the Bedouin and said: ‘Shaikh of the Arabs, this girl will be of no use to you, so sell her to me at whatever price you want.’ ‘Take her,’ said the Bedouin, ‘and pay her price, or I’ll move her to camp and leave her there to collect camel dung and herd the camels.’ ‘I’ll give you fifty thousand dinars for her,’ said the merchant. ‘Not enough,’ replied the Bedouin. ‘Seventy thousand,’ said the merchant. ‘Not enough – this doesn’t cover my capital costs. She has eaten barley scones with me worth ninety thousand dinars.’ The merchant replied: ‘You, your family and your clan have never eaten a thousand dinars’ worth of barley in all your lives! I’ll make you one offer and if you don’t accept it, I’ll lay information against you with the governor of Damascus and he will take her from you by force.’ ‘Say on,’ said the Bedouin. ‘One hundred thousand dinars,’ said the merchant. ‘I have sold her to you at that price,’ said the Bedouin, ‘and I’ll be able to buy salt with what I have made from her.’ On hearing this, the merchant laughed and, after fetching the money from his house, he handed it to the Bedouin. ‘I shall have to go to Jerusalem,’ said the old man to himself. ‘I may be able to find her brother and bring him here and sell him.’ So he mounted his camel and travelled on until he got to Jerusalem where he went to the kha
n and asked after Nuzhat al-Zaman’s brother, but could not find him.

  So much for him, but as for the merchant and Nuzhat al-Zaman, when he took her with him, he put something over her and brought her to his house.

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the merchant bought Nuzhat al-Zaman from the Bedouin, he took her home. Here he dressed her in the most splendid of clothes and took her to the market, where he bought for her whatever jewels she wanted, wrapping them in a piece of satin and handing them over to her. ‘This is all for you,’ he said, ‘and the only thing that I want in return is that, when I take you to the sultan, the governor of Damascus, you let him know the price for which I bought you, tiny as this was in relation to your worth. When you come to him and he buys you from me, tell him how I have treated you and ask him to give me an official letter of recommendation which I can take to his father, ‘Umar ibn al-Nu‘man, the ruler of Baghdad, in order to stop him levying duty on the materials and everything else in which I trade.’