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

by Penguin; Robert Irwin; Malcolm Lyons; Ursula Lyons

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the infidels saw him fall, they slapped their faces and burst into loud lamentation, imploring the help of the patriarchs of the monasteries and saying: ‘Where are the crosses and the ascetic monks?’ Then they closed formation and attacked with swords and lances. The armies met: men’s chests were crushed beneath horses’ hooves; lances and swords held sway; arms and wrists grew weak; and the horses looked as though they had been born without legs. The herald of war kept calling until, when men’s hands were wearied, the day ended and with the fall of darkness the armies parted. Every brave man was as though drunk because of the violence of the blows and thrusts; the ground was covered with corpses; there were gaping wounds, and the wounded could not be distinguished from the dead.

  Sharkan now joined his brother Dau’ al-Makan, the chamberlain and the vizier Dandan, and said to them: ‘God has opened a door for us to allow us to destroy the infidels – praise be to Him, the Lord of the worlds.’ Dau’ al-Makan replied: ‘We have not ceased to praise Him for freeing Arabs and Persians from distress. Generation after generation will talk of what you did to the damned Luqa, the perverter of the Evangel, how you caught the javelin in mid-air and how you struck down the enemy of God among the armies. The story of your prowess will remain until the end of time.’

  Sharkan then addressed the chamberlain, who answered that he was ready to obey. ‘Take the vizier Dandan with you,’ said Sharkan, ‘together with twenty thousand riders, and march them for seven parasangs in the direction of the sea. Hurry on until you are close to the shore and two parasangs away from the enemy. Hide yourselves in the low ground there, and when you hear the noise of the infidel army disembarking from their ships and battle cries being raised on all sides as the swords go about their work among us, you will see our men retreating as though they were routed. The infidels will follow them from all sides, as well as from their camp by the shore. Keep watching them and when you see a banner with the words “There is no god but God and Muhammad is the Apostle of God – may God bless him and give him peace”, do you raise the green banner, shout “Allahu akbar!” and charge them from the rear. Do your best to see that the infidels cannot get between the retreating Muslims and the sea.’

  ‘To hear is to obey,’ said the chamberlain, and after immediately agreeing to the plan, the Muslims made their preparations and set off, with the chamberlain taking with him the vizier Dandan and twenty thousand men, as Sharkan had ordered. The next morning, the soldiers mounted, drawing their swords and steadying their lances with their thighs and bearing other weapons. Troops spread over the hills and the valleys; the priests raised their voices; heads were bared; crosses were hoisted over the sails of the infidel ships and the crews made for the shore from every side. Horses were landed, with their riders determined to skirmish. Swords flashed as the armies moved; bright lances darted lightning against coats of mail; the mills of fate revolved over the heads of horse and foot; heads flew from bodies; tongues were dumb and eyes blinded; gall bladders burst as the swords went about their business; heads flew off; wrists were cut through; horses waded in blood and fighters grasped each other by the beard. The armies of Islam called out, invoking blessings and peace on the Lord of mankind and praising Merciful God for His favours. The Christians praised the Cross, the girdle, the wine, he who crushes the grapes, the priests, the monks, the palm branches and the bishop.

  Dau’ al-Makan drew back, together with Sharkan, and the Muslims retreated to make the enemy think that they were being routed. The Christians, believing them beaten, pressed after them, prepared for hand-to-hand fighting. The Muslims began to recite the beginning of the sura of the Cow, while corpses were trampled beneath the horses’ hooves. The Rumi herald began to call out: ‘Worshippers of the Messiah, you who follow the true religion, servants of the Primate, success has come; the armies of Islam are about to flee; don’t turn back from them but pursue them with the sword. If you retire, you will be rejected by the Messiah, the son of Mary, who spoke while still in the cradle.’

  Emperor Afridun, believing that his men were victorious and not realizing that this was a ruse, cleverly planned by the Muslims, sent news of this ‘victory’ to the king of Rum. ‘It was the excrement of the Patriarch that helped us, and nothing but this, as its smell spread through the beards and moustaches of the servants of the Cross, wherever they may be. I swear by the miracles, by your daughter Abriza, the Christian, the follower of Mary, and by the waters of baptism, that I shall not leave on the face of the earth a single defender of Islam and I am determined to carry out this intention to its evil end.’ His messenger set off with this message, and the infidels called to each other: ‘Avenge Luqa!’

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the infidels called to each other: ‘Avenge Luqa!’ while the king of Rum shouted: ‘Avenge Abriza!’

  At that moment, King Dau’ al-Makan cried: ‘Servants of God the Judge, strike the infidels who rebel against God, with your white swords and brown spears.’ The Muslims turned back against the infidels, using their sharp swords, and the Muslim herald began to call out: ‘Turn on the enemies of faith, you who love the chosen Prophet. This is the time to win the favour of God, the Generous, the Merciful. You who hope for salvation on the dreadful Day of Judgement, Paradise lies under the shadow of the swords.’ It was then that Sharkan charged with his men, cutting off the enemy’s escape route, wheeling and circling between the ranks.

  Suddenly, a fine rider cut a path through the infidels and circled round, cutting and thrusting. He filled the ground with heads and bodies; the infidels shrank from encountering him and their necks reeled from under his thrusts and blows. He had two swords, his sabre and his glances, and carried two lances, his spear and his erect frame, while his long hair served him in place of numbers of men; as the poet has said:

  Long hair is of no use except when it streams out

  On both sides of the head on the day of battle,

  Belonging to a young hero with a straight lance,

  That drinks the blood of the moustachioed enemy.

  Another poet says:

  When he girds on his sword, I say:

  ‘The swords of your eyes serve you in place of steel.’

  He answered: ‘The sword of my eyes is for those I love;

  My steel is for those who do not know love’s sweetness.’

  When Sharkan saw him, he said: ‘Champion, who are you? May God preserve you through the Quran and God’s verses. Your actions have pleased the Judge, Who is not distracted from one affair by another, because you have routed the impious infidels.’ The rider called back to him: ‘You are the man who made a compact with me yesterday; how quickly you have forgotten me.’ He then removed his mouth-veil, showing the beauty that lay hidden, and it turned out that here was Dau’ al-Makan. Sharkan’s pleasure at the sight was mixed with fear for his brother because of the thick press of heroes around him.

  There were two reasons for this, the first being that Dau’ al-Makan was still young and needed to be protected from the evil eye, and the second that his life was of prime importance to the kingdom. So he said: ‘King, you are risking your life. Keep your horse close to mine, for I don’t think that you are safe from the enemy. It would be better if you did not ride out from our lines, so that we may shoot at the enemies with our arrows that fly true.’ ‘I want to match you in battle,’ replied his brother, ‘and I don’t grudge risking my life by fighting before you.’

  The armies of Islam then closed in on the infidels from all sides, fighting hard and overcoming their might and their stubbornness in evil-doing. Afridun was filled with sorrow when he saw the disaster that had overtaken his men, who had turned their backs and tak
en flight, making for their ships, at which point a Muslim force had come out from the shore, led by the vizier Dandan, the overthrower of champions. He fought with sword and spear, as did the emir Bahram, lord of the Syrian provinces, with twenty thousand heroes like lions. The Christians were surrounded, front and rear, and a body of Muslims attacked those who were in the ships, spreading destruction among them so that they threw themselves into the sea. A huge number of them, more than a hundred thousand, were killed, and none of their champions, small or great, escaped, while all but twenty of their ships, with the wealth, stores and baggage they contained, were captured. The Muslims won more booty that day than anyone had ever taken in earlier times, nor had anyone ever heard of a battle like this. Among their prizes were fifty thousand horses, and that was to say nothing of the stores and spoils, which passed all counting. The delight of the Muslims at the victory and the help given them by God could not have been surpassed.

  So much for them, but as for the routed Christians, they came to Constantinople, where the people had earlier been told that it was Emperor Afridun who had been victorious over the Muslims. The old woman Dhat al-Dawahi said: ‘I know my son, the king of Rum, is not a man to be beaten. He has no fear of the armies of Islam and he will restore the people of the world to the religion of Christ.’ She had told the emperor to have the city adorned with decorations. The inhabitants showed their joy and drank wine, not knowing what fate had brought them. Then, in the middle of their celebration, the crow of sorrow and distress began to croak. The twenty ships that had escaped arrived with the king of Rum. The emperor met them on the shore and they told him what had happened to them when they met the Muslims, weeping bitterly and sobbing aloud. News of success was replaced by sorrow for the harm they had suffered. The emperor was told that Luqa ibn Shamlut had met with misfortune and had been struck down by the unerring arrow of fate.

  Afridun was horrified, realizing that the disaster could not be undone. People came together to mourn their dead; resolve was weakened; the mourning women lamented; and from every quarter rose loud sounds of sobbing and weeping. The king of Rum, having met Afridun, gave him a report of the battle, explaining that the supposed rout of the Muslims was only a cunning trick, and adding: ‘Do not look for any more of the army to return, apart from those who have already come.’ When Afridun heard that, he fell down in a faint, with his nose under his feet. When he had recovered, he said: ‘It may be that the Messiah was angry with them and so brought the Muslims down on them.’ The Patriarch approached the emperor sorrowfully, and Afridun said to him: ‘Father, our army has been destroyed as a punishment from the Messiah.’ ‘Do not grieve or mourn,’ said the Patriarch. ‘One of you must have sinned against the Messiah and it was for his sin that everyone was punished. Now, however, we will recite prayers for you in the churches so that these Muhammadan armies may be driven back.’

  The old woman Dhat al-Dawahi then came and said: ‘O king, the Muslim armies are large and it is only by a ruse that we can deal with them. I intend to play a cunning trick and I shall go to them in the hope that I can succeed in what I plan to do to their leader and kill him, their champion, as I killed his father. If my plan succeeds, not one man from among his armies will get back to his own country, as they all derive their strength from him. I need help from the Christians living in Syria who go out every month and every year to sell their goods, for it is through them that I shall achieve my goal.’ ‘That will be done whenever you want,’ said the emperor, and so she gave orders for a hundred men to be fetched from Syrian Najran. They were brought to Afridun, who asked them if they knew of the disaster suffered by the Christians at the hands of the Muslims. When they said yes, he told them: ‘This woman has dedicated herself to the Messiah and now she intends to go with you, all disguised as Muslims, to carry out a stratagem that will help us and stop the Muslim army from reaching us. Will you dedicate yourselves to the Messiah? If so, I shall give you a qintar of gold. Whoever survives will get the gold and whoever dies will be rewarded by the Messiah.’ ‘We all give ourselves to the Messiah,’ they told him, ‘and we will be your ransom.’

  The old woman then took all the drugs she needed, put them in water and boiled them up over a fire, dissolving their black core. She waited until the mixture had cooled and then lowered the end of a long kerchief over it. Over her clothes she put on an embroidered mantle, while in her hand she held a rosary. When this was done and she came out into the emperor’s presence, neither he nor any of those sitting with him recognized her. She then uncovered her face and all who were present praised her cunning. Her son was delighted and prayed that the Messiah might never deprive them of her. She then left with the Najrani Christians, making for the army of Baghdad.

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that when Afridun heard of the disaster, he fell down in a faint with his nose under his feet; and when he had recovered, trembling with fear, he complained to the old woman Dhat al-Dawahi.

  This damned woman was a sorceress, skilled in magic and in lies, unchaste, wily, debauched and treacherous, with foul breath, red eyelids, sallow cheeks in a dark face, bleary eyes, and a body covered with scabs. Her hair was grey; she was hunchbacked; her complexion was pallid and her nose streamed with mucus. She had, however, read Islamic texts and had travelled to the Haram of Mecca – all this in order to study religions and to become acquainted with the verses of the Quran. For two years she had claimed to follow Judaism in Jerusalem in order to possess herself of all the wiles of men and jinn. She was a disaster and an affliction, with no sound faith and no adherence to any religion. It was because of his virgin slave girls that she spent most of the time with her son Hardub, king of Rum, for she was a passionate lesbian, and if deprived of her pleasure for long, she would wilt away. If any slave girl pleased her, she would teach her this art, crush saffron over her, and fall into a lengthy faint on top of her as a result of the pleasure she received. Those who obeyed her she treated well and commended to her son, but she schemed to destroy any who did not.

  Abriza’s maids, Marjana, Raihana and Utrujja, knew about this, while Abriza herself had disliked Dhat al-Dawahi and found it unpleasant to sleep in the same bed as her because of the fetid smell of her armpits and her flatulence, which was worse than a corpse, while her body was rougher than palm fibres. She would try to seduce lovers by offering jewels and instruction, but Abriza used to shun her, taking refuge with God, the All-wise, the Omniscient. How well the poet puts it:

  You who grovel in abasement to the rich

  And lord it proudly over the poor,

  Adorning your repulsiveness by money-grubbing,

  Perfume does not make up for an ugly woman’s stench.

  Let us return to the tale of the trickery and the calamities she planned. She left, accompanied by the Christian leaders and their forces, making for the Muslim army. After she had gone, King Hardub visited Emperor Afridun and said: ‘O king, we have no need for the Patriarch or his prayers. We should act on the advice of my mother, Dhat al-Dawahi, and see what she can do to the Muslim army with her boundless powers of deception. They are advancing on us with their force and will soon be here, surrounding us.’ When Afridun heard that, he was so frightened that he wrote immediately to all Christian lands, telling them that no Christian follower of the Cross was to hold back, in particular the garrisons of forts and castles, and that all of them, horse and foot, women and children, were to come to Constantinople. He added: ‘The Muslim army is already trampling over our land, so hurry, hurry, before what we dread takes place.’

  So much for them, but as for Dhat al-Dawahi, she left the city with her companions, whom she had dressed as Muslim merchants. She had taken with her a hundred mules, laden with materials from Antioch, such as Ma‘dani satin, regal brocades and so forth. She had been given by the emperor a letter to say the merchants were Syrians w
ho had been in Byzantine territory, and that no one was to harm them or to demand a tithe from them until they had safely returned to their own land. ‘Trade brings prosperity,’ the letter added, ‘and these are neither men of war nor evil-doers.’ The damned woman then told her companions that she wanted to destroy the Muslims by a trick. ‘Give us what orders you want, O queen,’ they said, ‘for we are at your command, and may the Messiah not frustrate what you plan to do.’

  She then put on robes of soft white wool and rubbed her forehead until it acquired a large mark which she smeared with an unguent that she had prepared which gleamed brightly. She was a thin woman, with sunken eyes, and she now tied her legs, above the feet, and only untied the bonds when she had reached the Muslim army, by which time they had left weals, which she smeared with red juice. Then she told her companions to give her a severe beating and put her in a chest. They were to cry aloud: ‘There is no god but God,’ and this, she assured them, would bring no great harm on them. ‘How can we beat you,’ they exclaimed, ‘when you are our mistress and the mother of our splendid king?’ ‘A man who goes off to relieve himself is not blamed or treated harshly,’ she said, ‘as necessity knows no laws. When you have placed me in the chest, put it with the rest of your goods, load it on the mules and take it through the Muslim army. You need fear no blame, and if you are confronted by any of the Muslims, you are to hand over to them the mules, together with the goods they are carrying, and then go to their king, Dau’ al-Makan, asking him to help you. Say: “We have come from the land of the infidels where, far from anyone taking anything from us, they wrote an order for us saying that no one was to molest us. How is it, then, that you take our goods when here is a letter from the king of Rum saying that we are not to be harmed?” If Dau’ al-Makan asks you what profit you made from trading in the lands of Rum, tell him: “Our profit was the release of an ascetic who had been held in a subterranean chamber for fifteen years, tortured by the infidels night and day and crying for help but not being answered. We had known nothing of this, but we stayed in Constantinople for a time, where we sold our goods, bought replacements and then made our preparations for the return journey to our own land. We spent the last night talking about our journey, and in the morning, drawn on the wall, we saw a picture, which moved when we came up to look at it more closely. Then a voice from the picture said: ‘Muslims, is there anyone among you who will serve the Lord of the worlds?’ ‘How is that?’ we asked. The voice replied: ‘God has let me speak to you so that your faith may be strengthened and you may be inspired to aid your religion. Leave the lands of the infidels and make for the Muslim army. In that army is the Sword of the Merciful, the champion of the age, Sultan Sharkan. It is through him that Constantinople will be captured and the Christians destroyed. After you have travelled for three days, you will find a monastery known as the monastery of Matruhina. In it there is a cell which you must seek out with pure hearts, using the strength of your resolution to help you get to it. It contains an anchorite from Jerusalem, named ‘Abd Allah, one of the most godly of men, who has performed miracles that remove all doubts and confusion. One of the monks tricked him and imprisoned him in an underground chamber, where he has been for a very long time. To rescue him would be to please God, the Lord of His servants, as this would be the best contribution to the Holy War.’ ” ’