This news delighted Sharkan, and they all praised God that both they and the ‘ascetic’ were safe, and invoking God’s mercy on their dead, they exclaimed: ‘This was written in the book of fate!’ Then they pressed on with their journey. While they were on the march, they saw a rising dust cloud that blocked the regions of the sky, blotting out the day. Looking at it, Sharkan said: ‘I am afraid that the infidels have broken the Muslim army, for this cloud has blocked the east and the west, filling both horizons.’ At that point, beneath the dust appeared a pillar of darkness, blacker than the gloom of dark days, coming nearer and nearer, more awesome than the terrors of the Day of Resurrection. Horse and foot hurried towards it to find what had caused this evil, and there they saw the ‘ascetic’. They crowded round to kiss her hands, and she called out: ‘Followers of the best of men, the light in darkness; the infidels have taken the Muslims unawares. Go and save them from the vile unbelievers, who attacked them in their tents, inflicting shameful punishment on them while they thought themselves secure in their camp.’
When Sharkan heard that, his heart almost flew out of his chest, so violently did it beat. He dismounted in a state of bewilderment and then kissed the hands and feet of the ‘ascetic’. His brother Dau’ al-Makan followed his example, as did the rest of the army, both horse and foot, with the exception of the vizier Dandan. Dandan did not dismount but said: ‘By God, my heart recoils from this ascetic for I have never known anything but evil to come from an excess of religious zealotry. Let him be, and go to join your Muslim comrades. This man is an outcast from the door of mercy of the Lord of the worlds. How many raids have I made in these parts with King ‘Umar!’ ‘This is a false judgement; abandon it,’ said Sharkan. ‘Haven’t you seen this ascetic urging on the Muslims to fight, taking no notice of swords or arrows? Don’t slander him, for slander is blameworthy, and the flesh of the pious is poisoned. Look at the way that he encourages us to fight our enemies. If Almighty God did not love him, he would not have been able to cover these distances, after having been harshly tortured earlier.’
He then ordered that a duty mule be provided for the ‘ascetic’ to ride. ‘Mount this, you pious, devout and God-fearing ascetic,’ he said, but Dhat al-Dawahi would not accept and made a pretence of asceticism in refusing to ride, in order to achieve her goal. The Muslims did not know that this wanton was like the person described by the poet, who
Prayed and fasted for a purpose, and then,
Purpose achieved, he did not fast or pray.
She continued to walk between the horsemen and the infantry, like a fox planning mischief, raising her voice to recite the Quran and to glorify God, the Merciful. The Muslims continued on their way until they came within sight of the army of Islam. This army, Sharkan discovered, was being broken, with the chamberlain on the point of flight and the swords of the Rumis at work among the just and the unjust.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the one hundred and second night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Sharkan discovered that the army was being broken, with the chamberlain on the point of flight and the swords of the Rumis at work among the just and the unjust. The reason for this setback was that when that enemy of religion, the damned Dhat al-Dawahi, had noted that Bahram and Rustam had gone with their men to find Sharkan and his brother Dau’ al-Makan, she had gone to the Muslim army and sent off the emir Tarkash, as has already been told, intending to weaken the Muslims by dispersing them. She then left and made for Constantinople, where she called at the top of her voice to the Rumis, telling them to lower a rope on to which she could tie a letter. They were to take this to Emperor Afridun, to be read by him and by her son, the king of Rum, who were to act on the orders and prohibitions that it contained. The rope was lowered and to it she tied her letter, which read: ‘From the major disaster and the greatest calamity, Dhat al-Dawahi, to Emperor Afridun. To continue: I have prepared a stratagem to enable you to destroy the Muslims. You can rest at ease. I have seen to their capture, taking their king and their vizier, and I then went to their army and gave them the news, which broke their spirit and weakened them. I tricked the besiegers of Constantinople into sending off twelve thousand riders with the emir Tarkash, to help those who had already been captured. Only a few of them are left, and I want you to lead out your whole army against them in what is left of this day, in order to attack them in their tents. You must make a simultaneous sally and kill every last man of them. You are under the eye of the Messiah; the Virgin has compassion on you, and I hope that the Messiah will not forget what I have done.’
When this message reached Afridun, he was delighted and immediately sent to fetch Dhat al-Dawahi’s son, the king of Rum. When the letter was read to him, he was filled with joy and exclaimed: ‘Look at the cunning of my mother, which serves in the place of swords, while her appearance is a substitute for the terrors of the dreadful Day of Judgement.’ ‘May the Messiah never be deprived of her,’ said the emperor, and he then ordered his officers to give the word for a sally from the city. The news was passed through Constantinople; out came the Christian armies, the people of the Cross, unsheathing their sharp swords and proclaiming the formulae of their impiety and unbelief, while blaspheming God, the Lord of mankind.
On seeing this, the chamberlain said: ‘The Rumis are here. They must know that our king is absent, and it may be that they have attacked us because most of our troops have set off to find Dau’ al-Makan.’ He then called out angrily: ‘Army of Islam, defenders of the established faith, if you turn to flee, you die, and if you show endurance, you will be victorious. Know that courage means an hour’s worth of endurance. There is no difficulty that God does not resolve; may God bless you and look upon you with the eye of mercy.’ At that, the Muslim monotheists raised the cry ‘Allahu akbar!’; the mills of war revolved with thrusts and cuts, while swords and spears went about their work as blood filled the valleys and the plains. Priests and monks played their parts, tightening their belts and raising up their crosses, while the Muslims proclaimed the greatness of the King and Judge, calling out verses from the Quran. The armies of the Merciful God clashed with those of the devil; heads flew from bodies, while the good angels went round among the followers of the chosen Prophet. Swords did not rest until the day had ended and the darkness of night had arrived.
The infidels had surrounded the Muslims, thinking that they would escape humiliating punishment, and they remained hopeful of success against the followers of the true faith. At daybreak, the chamberlain and his men mounted, hoping for God’s aid. The two sides intermingled; fighting became fierce; heads flew off; the brave stood firm and advanced, while the cowards turned back and fled. Judgements were delivered by the Judge of death; champions were thrown from their saddles and the fields were filled with the dead. The Muslims fell back from their positions and the Rumis seized some of their tents and their bivouacs. The Muslims were on the point of being broken and of taking flight in their defeat, but while they were in that state, suddenly Sharkan appeared with the armies and banners of the followers of the One Lord.
On his arrival, he charged the infidels, followed by Dau’ al-Makan and after that by the emir Dandan, as well as by Bahram, the emir of the Turks, and by Rustam, together with Tarkash. When the Rumis saw that, their wits and their judgement deserted them. Dust rose until it filled all corners of the sky; the pious Muslims joined forces with their virtuous comrades, and Sharkan met the chamberlain, thanked him for having held out and congratulated him on the aid and assistance he had received. The Muslims were joyful and charged the enemy with strong hearts, dedicating themselves faithfully to God’s cause in the Holy War.
When the infidels saw the banners of Islam, bearing their message of sincere devotion to God, they uttered cries of distress, invoking the help of the patriarchs of the monasteries, and calling out to John, Mary and to the Cross that they defiled, while stopping fighting. The emperor ca
me up to the king of Rum, one of them having been on the right wing and the other on the left, while with them was a famous rider named Lawiya, whose post was in the centre of the troops. They drew up their ranks in battle order, despite being in a state of fear and disturbance, while the Muslims also arranged their ranks. Sharkan went up to his brother Dau’ al-Makan and said: ‘King of the age, there can be no doubt that they are going to offer a challenge to single combat and this is what we want most. I would like to post men of firm resolution in front of our army, for planning is half the battle in life.’ ‘Whatever you want, O wise advisor,’ said the king. ‘I want to be opposite the enemy centre,’ said Sharkan, ‘with Dandan to the left and you to the right, the emir Bahram on the right flank and Rustam on the left. You, mighty king, must take your post beneath the standards and the banners, for you are our buttress and after God it is on you that we rely. All of us will give our lives to protect you from any hurt.’ Dau’ al-Makan thanked him for that and a shout was then raised and swords drawn.
At this point, a rider suddenly appeared from among the Rumi ranks. When he came near, the Muslims saw that he was mounted on a slow-paced mule that shied away with its rider from the clash of swords. Its saddle cloth was of white silk, over which was a rug of Kashmiri work. Its rider was a handsome grey-haired old man of obvious dignity, wearing a tunic of white wool. He came on fast, until, when he was near the Muslims, he said: ‘I am a messenger sent to you all. A messenger’s only duty is to deliver his message. Give me safe conduct and permission to speak so that I may deliver you mine.’ ‘You have safe conduct,’ said Sharkan, ‘so fear neither sword cut nor spear thrust.’
At that the old man dismounted, and taking the cross from his neck before the sultan, he performed the obeisance of one who was hoping for favour. ‘What news do you bring?’ the Muslims asked him. ‘I am a messenger from Emperor Afridun,’ he replied. ‘I advised him to abstain from the destruction of these human forms, which are the temples of God’s mercy. I showed him that the right course was to prevent bloodshed and to confine the battle to two riders. He agreed to that, saying: “I shall ransom my army with my own life, and let the king of the Muslims follow my example and do the same for his men. If he kills me, my army will not be able to stand, nor will the Muslims if I kill him.” ’
When Sharkan had heard this, he said: ‘Monk, I agree to his proposal; this is a fair solution, about which there can be no disagreement. It is I who will come out to meet him and ride against him, for I am the Muslim champion, just as he is the champion of the infidels. If he kills me, victory will be his and flight will be the only recourse of the Muslims. So do you go back to him, monk, and tell him that the meeting will take place tomorrow. We are tired today, as we have just arrived after our journey, but when we have rested there will be no grounds for reproach or blame.’ The monk went back joyfully, and when he reached the emperor and the king of Rum, he told them what had happened.
Afridun was delighted and his care and sorrow left him. He told himself: ‘There is no doubt that Sharkan is the best of the Muslims when it comes to sword blows and spear thrusts, and if I kill him they will lose heart and be weakened.’ Dhat al-Dawahi had earlier written to him about this, warning him that Sharkan was the champion of the brave and the bravest of the champions. Afridun, however, was himself a great fighter, a master of the various arts of combat, who could hurl rocks, shoot arrows and strike blows with an iron mace, and who had no fear of even the strongest opponent. So when he heard the monk saying that Sharkan had agreed to meet him in single combat, he was almost beside himself with joy, as he was confident of his prowess, knowing that no one could overcome him.
The infidels passed a happy and joyful night drinking wine, and when morning came, the riders rode forward with their brown spears and white swords. They saw a rider who rode out on to the field, mounted on an excellent horse with strong legs, in full battle gear. Its rider wore a coat of mail made to withstand violent blows; on his chest was a jewelled mirror, while he held a sharp sword together with a lance of khalanj wood of wonderful Frankish workmanship. Uncovering his face, he said: ‘Whoever recognizes me knows enough of me and whoever has not recognized me will soon see who I am. I am Afridun, a man encompassed by the blessing of the keen eyes of Dhat al-Dawahi.’
Before he had finished speaking, Sharkan, the champion of the Muslims, rode out to face him, mounted on a roan horse worth a thousand dinars of red gold, whose harness was studded with pearls and gems. He himself was equipped with a jewelled Indian sword that could sever necks and for which hard tasks were easy. He rode out between the ranks, with the riders watching him, and he called to Afridun: ‘Woe to you, you damned man, do you think that I am like those riders whom you have met, who cannot stand against you in the field of battle?’ Each of them then charged the other and they were like two mountains colliding or two seas clashing. They closed with each other and then parted, fighting at close quarters and then separating, charging and retreating, toying with each other and then fighting in earnest, striking and thrusting, under the eyes of both armies. ‘Sharkan is winning,’ said some, while others said: ‘It is Afridun.’ They continued to fight, until there was no more talking; the dust rose high, and as the day waned, the sun paled.
Then the emperor called out to Sharkan: ‘By the truth of the religion of the Messiah and the true faith, you are an attacking rider and a bold champion, but you are treacherous and yours is not a noble nature. I see that you act ignobly and don’t fight like a courageous chief. Your people rank you as a slave, for they are bringing out another horse for you so that you can resume the fight. By the truth of my religion, fighting against you has tired me and your blows and thrusts have wearied me. If you want to fight tonight, don’t change any of your harness or your horse, so as to show the riders your noble nature and how you can fight.’
When Sharkan heard this, he was angry that his companions were doing anything that might class him as a slave. He turned towards them, meaning to signal to them that they should not bring him another horse or harness, but Afridun suddenly shook a javelin and hurled it at him. When Sharkan looked behind him, he saw no one there and realizing that his damned enemy had tricked him, he turned his head in a hurry, to find that the javelin was almost on him. He swerved away from it, bending his head down to his saddlebow, but, passing by his chest, which was protuberant, the javelin pierced the skin. Sharkan gave a cry and fainted, to the delight of the damned Afridun, who was sure that his opponent had been killed. He called out to the infidels, telling them to rejoice; the tyrannical Rumis were elated, while the people of the true faith wept. When Dau’ al-Makan saw his brother swaying on his horse and almost falling, he sent out his riders. The champions raced each other to reach him, and they brought him to Dau’ al-Makan. The unbelievers then charged the Muslims: the two armies met, the ranks were intermixed as the sharp Yemeni swords went about their work. The first man to reach Sharkan was the vizier Dandan…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the one hundred and third night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when Dau’ al-Makan saw the damned Afridun strike his brother with a javelin, he thought that he was dead and sent out his riders. The first to reach him was the vizier Dandan, together with Bahram, the emir of the Turks, and the emir of the Dailamis. When they got to him he had fallen from his saddle, and so they propped him up and brought him back to his brother Dau’ al-Makan. They then left him in the charge of the servants and returned to the battle.
The fight grew furious; blades were shattered; there was no time for talk and all that could be seen were flowing blood and lolling heads. Swords hacked at necks and the battle was fiercely contested until the greater part of the night had passed. Both sides were then too tired to fight and the order was given to break off, after which each side retired to its tents. The unbelievers went to their emperor and kissed the ground before him, while the priests an
d the monks congratulated him on his victory over Sharkan. He entered Constantinople and took his seat on his royal throne. King Hardub came up to him and said: ‘May the Messiah strengthen your arm and never cease to help you, answering the prayers made on your behalf by my virtuous mother, Dhat al-Dawahi. Know that after the loss of Sharkan the Muslims will not be able to stand.’ ‘The matter will be settled tomorrow,’ said Afridun, ‘when I go out to challenge Dau’ al-Makan to single combat and then kill him. For the Muslim army will then turn tail and take refuge in flight.’
So much for the unbelievers. As for the Muslims, when Dau’ al-Makan got back to the tents, his only concern was for his brother. When he went in to see him, he found him in the worst and most perilous of states. He summoned the vizier Dandan for a consultation, together with Rustan and Bahram, and when they had come, it was decided to fetch doctors to treat him. They wept and said: ‘The generosity of Time has never produced another man like him.’ After they had passed a sleepless night sitting with him, the ‘ascetic’ came up in tears. When Dau’ al-Makan saw her, he got up to greet her. The ‘ascetic’ brushed her hand over Sharkan’s wound, reciting over him a passage from the Quran, using the lines of the Merciful God as an incantation. She then stayed with Sharkan, remaining wakeful until morning, when Sharkan recovered consciousness, opened his eyes, moved his tongue round his mouth and spoke.
Seeing this, Dau’ al-Makan was delighted and said: ‘The blessing of the ascetic has rested on him.’ ‘Praise be to God for having given me health, for I am now well,’ said Sharkan, before adding: ‘That damned man tricked me, and if I had not swerved faster than lightning, the javelin would have gone straight through my chest. Praise be to God who saved me!’ He then asked about the Muslims, and when he was told that they were weeping for him, he said: ‘I am well and healthy.’ Then he asked: ‘Where is the ascetic?’ and Dau’ al-Makan told him that the ‘ascetic’ was sitting by his head. He turned towards her and kissed her hands. ‘My son,’ said the ‘ascetic’, ‘you must show the virtue of patience and God will reward you well, for the reward will be in proportion to the hardship.’ ‘Pray for me,’ said Sharkan, and the ‘ascetic’ prayed.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 62