When Kana-ma-Kana heard what his mother had to say, he became more distressed; his eyes filled with tears; he groaned and complained, reciting the following:
Less of this blame, which never quits me!
My heart loves one who has enslaved it;
Look for no grain of patience in me.
I swear by the Holy House, my patience is divorced.
When censurers forbid me, I disobey them,
And I am truthful in laying claim to love.
They keep me by force from visiting her,
But, by the Merciful God, I am not dissolute.
When my bones hear her mentioned,
They are like little birds pursued by hawks.
Say to all those who blame me for my love:
‘I swear to you I truly love my cousin.’
When he had finished these lines, he said to his mother: ‘I can no longer stay with my aunt or with these people. I shall leave the palace and find a place to live on the outskirts of the city.’ His mother went out of the palace with him and they lodged near some beggars. His mother used to go to and fro to King Sasan’s palace and fetch food for the two of them. Some time later, Qudiya-fa-Kana, finding herself alone with her, asked how Kana-ma-Kana was. She replied: ‘My daughter, he is tearful and sad at heart, having been entrapped by love for you,’ and she recited the lines that he had composed. Qudiya-fa-Kana wept and said: ‘By God, I did not leave him because of what he said or because I disliked him. Rather, I did this because I was afraid that his enemies might harm him, and my longing for him is far greater than his for me. My tongue cannot describe it and had it not been for the slip of his tongue and the fluttering of his heart, my father would not have cut off his favour from him and caused him to be banished and deprived. But men’s fortunes change and in all affairs endurance is best. It may be that He Who has decreed that we be parted will grant that we may meet again.’ She then recited these lines:
Cousin, my passion is like yours, but multiplied,
Yet I hid it; why did you not hide yours?
When Kana-ma-Kana’s mother heard this, she thanked Qudiya-fa-Kana and invoked a blessing on her before leaving. She then told this to her son. His desire for the princess increased and he recovered his spirits, after his strength had almost left him and he was close to breathing his last. ‘By God,’ he said, ‘I want none but her,’ and he then recited:
Stop blaming me; I shall not listen to a word of blame.
I have revealed the secret that I kept concealed.
The one whose union I hope for has gone.
My eye is wakeful and my beloved sleeps.
Days and nights passed, with the prince tossing on hot coals until he was seventeen years old – a perfect model of beauty and grace. One night, as he lay awake, he said to himself: ‘Why should I stay silent until I waste away with no sight of my beloved? Poverty is my only reproach. By God, I want to leave these parts and wander in the wastes and wildernesses, for to stay here is torture. I have no friend and no beloved to console me, and so I intend to find my own consolation by staying away from home until I die and find relief from these trials and this degradation.’ He then recited these lines:
Let the throbbing of my blood increase;
It is not for me to suffer humiliation before the foe.
Forgive me; in my inmost heart there is a page
For which most clearly tears provide a heading.
My cousin seems a houri of Paradise,
Come down to us through the favour of Ridwan.
Whoever stands against the sword thrusts of her glance
Will find no refuge from their enmity,
So I shall travel widely through God’s lands,
To win a livelihood in place of poverty.
By such a journey I shall save myself,
Exchanging my privations there for wealth,
Before returning happy and fortunate,
Having fought with heroes on the battlefield.
When I come back, it will be with booty,
And I shall conquer those who match themselves with me.
Kana-ma-Kana left, walking barefoot in a shirt with short sleeves, wearing on his head a seven-year-old felt cap, and carrying with him a three-day-old dry loaf of bread. It was pitch dark when he started out; he came to the Arij gate of the city, where he waited, and when it was opened, he was the first to go out through it. He then travelled as fast as he could by night and by day through the deserts. On the first night of his absence, his mother looked for him and when she could not find him, the wide world contracted for her and she took no pleasure in any of its delights. She waited expectantly for him first for one day, then for a second and then for a third, until ten days had passed without any news of him. In her distress she cried out and screamed, saying: ‘My darling son, you have brought down sorrows on me, although I had enough of these before you left home. Now that you have gone, I have no desire for food nor can I take pleasure in sleep. All that is left for me are tears and sorrow. Oh my son, from what land shall I summon you and where have you found refuge?’ Then, sighing deeply, she recited these lines:
I know that suffering awaits me now that you have gone,
And the bows of parting have shot shafts at me.
They loaded their baggage and then went,
Leaving me to the pains of death, as they crossed the sands.
In the dark of night a ringdove cooed;
‘Gently,’ I said to it. ‘By my life, had you my grief,
You would not wear a collar nor would your foot be dyed.
My lover has left me; what meets me now
Are summoners of care that never leave.’
She neither ate nor drank but wept and sobbed more and more. Her tears became a matter of public knowledge and she caused weeping among other people and through the lands. People started to say: ‘Dau’ al-Makan, where are you looking?’ They complained of the injustices of Time and said to each other: ‘What do you suppose has happened to Kana-ma-Kana, that he has been driven away from his homeland? His father used to feed the hungry and his rule brought us justice and security.’ His mother wept and wailed more and more until news of this reached King Sasan.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the hundred and fortieth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that news of this reached King Sasan. It was brought to him by the leading emirs, who told him: ‘He is the son of our king, of the stock of King ‘Umar ibn al-Nu‘man, and we have heard that he has left the country.’
When King Sasan heard this, he was angry with them and ordered one of them to be hanged, as a result of which the rest of his courtiers were filled with dread and none of them could speak. Sasan then remembered the good treatment that he had received from Dau’ al-Makan and the fact that Kana-ma-Kana had been entrusted to his care. He began to feel sorry for the prince and said that a search would have to be made throughout the lands. Summoning Tarkash, he told him to pick a hundred riders and take them off to search for him, but after an absence of ten days Tarkash came back to report that he had no news of the prince nor found any trace of him nor met anyone who could tell him anything. King Sasan was sorry for how he had treated Kana-ma-Kana, while his mother could find no rest and no patience for twenty long days.
So much for them, but as for Kana-ma-Kana, when he left Baghdad he was in a state of confusion and did not know where to go. For three days he wandered alone in the desert without seeing a single soul, unable to rest and remaining constantly wakeful, thinking of his family and his own country. He fed himself on plants and drank from streams, resting in the midday heat under trees. He then left the track that he was on for another one, which he followed for three days, and after this, on the fourth day, he found himself on the edge of a grassy and fertile plain covered with beautiful plants and trees. This land had drunk from the cups of the clouds to the sound of thunder and the cooing of doves. Its
borders were green and its open spaces delightful.
Kana-ma-Kana remembered Baghdad, his father’s city, and expressed the excess of his emotion in these lines:
I left, hoping to return;
When this will be, I do not know.
I have become a wanderer for love,
And find no way to cure my passion.
On finishing his poem, he shed tears, but then, having wiped them away, he sustained himself by eating some of the plants there, after which he performed the ritual ablution and prayed, making up the tally of prayers that he had missed during his wanderings. He sat there to rest all through the day, and at nightfall he fell asleep. He remained asleep until midnight, and when he awoke, he heard a man’s voice reciting these lines:
What is life without a lightning flash
From the beloved’s mouth, and her pure face?
Let bishops in monasteries pray for her,
And vie in their prostrations before her.
For death is easier than aversion on her part,
From whom no phantom visits me at night.
How joyful is the meeting between friends,
When both the lover and his love are there,
Especially in the season of the flowery spring,
When Time speeds on with fragrant gifts.
You who drink wine, here before you
There is a happy land of gushing streams.
When Kana-ma-Kana heard this, it moved him to grief; tears streamed down his cheeks and his heart was filled with burning fire. He got up to see who was reciting the lines, but in the darkness he could not make out anyone. His passion increased but, in his alarm and distress, he went down to the bottom of the valley and walked by the bank of the stream. Then he heard the reciter of the lines sigh deeply and produce these lines:
You may conceal your love from fear,
But on the day of parting let your tears flow down.
As lovers, we are joined by covenants of love,
So for all time my longing must remain.
My heart finds rest with the beloved, and the cooling breeze
Delights me as its breath stirs up my longing.
Sa‘d, will the lady of the anklets think of me
After our parting, and of our bond and covenant?
Will nights of union join us once again,
So that we may explain part of our sufferings?
She said: ‘You are beguiled by love for me.’ I said to her:
‘God guard you; how many lovers have you beguiled?’
May God not let my eyes enjoy her loveliness,
If after she has gone they ever taste sweet sleep.
My heart is stung and I can find no cure
Except for union and to sip her lips.
When Kana-ma-Kana heard the same voice reciting poetry once again but still could not see who it was, he realized that this must be a lover like himself who had been kept from union with his beloved. He said to himself: ‘It is right that we should put our heads together and that I should take him as a friend in my exile.’ Clearing his throat, he called out: ‘You who travel in the dark of the night, come up and tell me your story, for you may find that I can help you in your distress.’ When the reciter heard this, he replied: ‘Whoever you are who has answered my call and heard my tale, who are you among the riders? Are you human or jinn? Answer me quickly before death comes to you. I have been travelling in the desert for some twenty days without seeing anyone and yours is the only voice that I have heard.’
When Kana-ma-Kana heard this, he said to himself: ‘This is a man whose story is like mine, for I, too, have been travelling for twenty days without seeing or hearing anyone.’ He decided not to reply until day had broken, and so he stayed silent. The reciter shouted to him: ‘You who called, if you are a jinni, go off in peace, but if you are human, stay awhile until dawn comes and the darkness of night clears away.’ He then stayed where he was, as did Kana-ma-Kana, and the two of them went on reciting poetry to each other and shedding copious tears until night ended and the light of dawn appeared.
Kana-ma-Kana then looked at the reciter and found that he was a young Bedouin wearing tattered clothes, girt with a sword that had rusted in its scabbard, and marked out as a lover. He went up and greeted him, and the Bedouin returned his greeting, saluting him courteously, although, in fact, he despised him, seeing him to be both young and impoverished. ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘to what people do you belong; what is your clan and what is your story? You travel by night, the action of a hero, and what you said to me at night were the words of a valiant champion. Your life is now in my hands, but I shall have mercy on you because of your tender years and I shall take you as a companion so that you can come with me as my servant.’
When Kana-ma-Kana heard these ugly words, which contrasted with the beauty of the man’s poetry, he realized that the Bedouin despised him and wanted to take advantage of him. He replied with gentle eloquence: ‘Chief of the Arabs, don’t talk of my youth, but tell me how you come to be travelling by night through the desert, reciting poetry. I see that you say that I should act as your servant, but who are you and what prompts you to talk like this?’ ‘Listen, young man,’ replied the Bedouin. ‘I am Sabbah ibn Rammah ibn Hammam, and my clan belong to the Bedouin of Syria. I have a cousin called Najma, who brings blessings to all who see her. My father died and I was brought up with my uncle, Najma’s father. When we both grew up we were kept away from each other, as my uncle saw that I was poor and penniless. The Arab chiefs and the leaders of the tribes went to see him and criticized him for this. He felt ashamed and he agreed to marry my cousin to me, but only on condition that I give him by way of dowry fifty horses, fifty camels, ten months pregnant, fifty more laden with wheat and another fifty laden with barley, ten black slaves and ten slave girls. He has asked too much, imposing a burden on me that I cannot bear, and so here am I on my way from Syria to Iraq. In twenty days, I have seen no one except you, but I intend to go into Baghdad and look to see which of the great merchants, the men of wealth, come out so that I can then follow their tracks, seize their goods, kill their men and drive off their camels with their loads. Now tell me who you are.’
‘Your story is like mine,’ said Kana-ma-Kana, ‘except that the disease from which I suffer is more dangerous than yours, as my cousin is a king’s daughter and the dowry that you mentioned, or anything like it, would not be enough to satisfy her family.’ Sabbah replied: ‘It may be that you are feeble-witted or the extent of your passion may have driven you out of your mind. How can your cousin be a king’s daughter when, far from showing any signs of royal blood, you are nothing but a wandering beggar?’ ‘Chief of the Arabs,’ answered Kana-ma-Kana, ‘there is nothing for you to find strange about this. What has passed has passed, but if you want to know more, I am Kana-ma-Kana, son of King Dau’ al-Makan, who was the son of King ‘Umar ibn al-Nu‘man, the ruler of Baghdad and of the land of Khurasan. Time has wronged me. My father died and King Sasan took power. I left Baghdad barefooted lest anyone see me. I have now explained how things are. In twenty days, you are the only person I have seen. Your story is like mine and so is your need.’
When he heard this, Sabbah cried out: ‘O joy! I have got my wish and I have no need now of any other booty but you. You are of kingly stock, but you have come out dressed like a beggar. Your family must be looking for you and when they find you with someone, they will pay that person a huge sum to ransom you. So come on, boy, turn your back to me and walk ahead of me.’ ‘Don’t do this, my Arab brother,’ said Kana-ma-Kana. ‘My family won’t buy me for silver or gold or even one copper dirham. I am a poor man and I am carrying nothing with me. So give up this greed; take me as a companion and leave Iraq with me so that we can travel throughout distant lands in the hope of finding a dowry, to enable us to enjoy the kisses and embraces of our cousins.’
On hearing this, Sabbah became angry and his arrogance and irritation increased. ‘Damn you,’ he said. ‘Are you bandying w
ords with me, you vilest of dogs? Turn around, or else I’ll punish you.’ Kana-ma-Kana smiled and said: ‘How should I turn my back on you? Can you not act fairly and are you not afraid of being disgraced among the Bedouin for leading a man like me as a prisoner in humiliation and disgrace without having tried me out on the field to discover whether I am a champion or a coward?’ Sabbah laughed and said: ‘How wonderful! In years you are a boy, but you talk big, and words like these come only from a battle-hardened champion. What “fairness” do you want?’ Kana-ma-Kana replied: ‘If you want me as a captive and a servant, then throw aside your weapons, strip and come to wrestle with me. Whichever of us throws the other can do what he wants with him and take him as a servant.’ Sabbah laughed and said: ‘All these bold words of yours show that your end is near.’
He then got up, threw down his weapons, tucked up his clothes and advanced on Kana-ma-Kana, who came up to him. They struggled with each other and the Bedouin found Kana-ma-Kana getting the better of him, as a qintar outweighs a dinar. He saw how firmly fixed his legs were on the ground and found that they were like two well-based minarets, two tent pegs driven into the ground or two deep-rooted mountains. Realizing that he was outmatched and regretting that he had closed with Kana-ma-Kana, he said to himself: ‘I wish I’d fought him with my weapons.’ Then Kana-ma-Kana grasped him, took a firm hold and shook him until the Bedouin felt as though his guts had split in his belly. ‘Remove your hand, boy!’ he cried, but Kana-ma-Kana paid no attention and shook him again before lifting him up and carrying him to the stream in order to throw him in. ‘Hero,’ shouted the Bedouin, ‘what do you mean to do?’ ‘I’m going to throw you into this stream,’ replied Kana-ma-Kana. ‘It will carry you into the Tigris; the Tigris will take you to the Nahr ‘Isa; the Nahr ‘Isa will take you to the Euphrates; and the Euphrates will bring you to your own lands, where your people will recognize you and acknowledge your manliness and the sincerity of your love.’ Sabbah cried out: ‘Hero of the valleys, don’t act shamefully. Let me go; I call on you by the life of your cousin, the flower of loveliness.’
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 76