I have heard, O fortunate king, that when Budur halted outside the Ebony City to rest, Armanus sent a messenger to find out about the ‘king’ who had camped outside his city. On his arrival, the messenger asked Budur’s servants, who told him that here was a prince who was making for the Khalidan Islands of King Shahriman but had lost his way. The messenger went back to King Armanus with this news, and when he heard it, he and his state officials came out to meet their visitor. When he arrived at the tents, Princess Budur came out on foot and the king met her, also on foot. After they had exchanged greetings, the king took her into his city and brought her to his palace, where on his orders food of all kinds was laid out on tables, while Budur’s men were taken to his guest house. They stayed there for three days, after which the king came to visit her. She had been to the baths that day and her unveiled face shone like a full moon, so that all who saw her were reduced to a state of shameless infatuation. When the king met her, she was wearing a silk robe, embroidered with gold and studded with jewels. ‘My son,’ he told her, ‘I am old and infirm. My only child is a daughter who resembles you in beauty and loveliness. As I can no longer govern my kingdom, I offer her to you, and if you like this land of mine and are prepared to stay and settle here, I will marry you to her and give you my kingdom so that I may rest.’
The princess bent her head with her forehead covered in the sweat of shame. She said to herself: ‘How can this be done, as I am a woman? But if I don’t agree and leave him, I shall not be safe, as he may send a force after me to kill me, while if I obey him, I may be disgraced. I have lost my darling Qamar al-Zaman; there is no news of him, and I have no way of escape apart from keeping silence, agreeing to the king’s proposal and staying here until God brings about what has been fated.’ So, raising her head, she told the king that she was willing to obey him.
In his delight, he ordered a herald to proclaim throughout the Ebony Islands that wedding celebrations were to be held and decorations brought out. He then gathered together the chamberlains, deputies, emirs, viziers and state officials, together with the qadis of his city, after which he abdicated, appointing Princess Budur in his place and clothing her in royal robes. All the emirs came to pay their respects and none of them had any doubt that she was a young man, while her beauty caused all those who looked at her to soil their trousers.
When she had assumed power and taken her seat on the throne, with the drums being beaten to spread the good news, King Armanus made the preparations for the wedding of his daughter, Hayat al-Nufus. A few days later, Princess Budur was brought in to her, and they looked like two moons that had risen at the same time or two suns that had met. The doors were closed on them and the curtains drawn, after candles had been lit and the marriage bed prepared. Budur sat with Hayat al-Nufus but, remembering her beloved Qamar al-Zaman, she was overwhelmed by grief and, shedding tears for his loss, she recited these lines:
Absent ones, the agitation of my heart grows worse;
Your parting leaves no breath of life within my body.
My eyes used to complain of sleeplessness,
But tears have melted them; I wish that sleeplessness had stayed.
When you left, it was love that stayed behind.
Ask it what it experienced when you went.
Were it not for tears that flood down from my eyes,
My fiery pain would burn the empty lands.
I complain to God of dear ones I have lost,
Who had no pity on my love or my distress.
I wronged them only through my love for them;
Some may be fortunate in love and others not.
When she had finished these lines, Budur sat down beside Hayat al-Nufus and kissed her on the mouth, but she then got up, performed the ritual ablution and continued to pray until Hayat al-Nufus had fallen asleep. She then got into bed with her, but kept her back turned towards her until it was morning. When the sun had risen, the king and his wife came to their daughter to ask how she was, and she told them what she had seen and the poetry that she had heard.
So much for Hayat al-Nufus and her parents, but as for Princess Budur, she went out and took her seat on the royal throne. The emirs together with all the leaders and state officials came and congratulated her on having taken power, kissing the ground before her and calling down blessings on her. She advanced towards them smilingly and distributed robes of honour among them, bestowing additional honours and lands on the emirs, officials and soldiers. They loved her and everyone prayed that her reign might continue, believing that she was a man. She issued commands and prohibitions, gave judgements, released prisoners and cancelled market dues. She continued to sit in the hall of judgement until nightfall, after which she entered the apartments that had been prepared for her. Here she found Hayat al-Nufus seated, and sitting down beside her she patted her on the back, petted her and kissed her between the eyes. She then recited the following lines:
Tears have revealed my secret;
My wasted body is an open sign of love.
I hide it, but the day of parting shows my love,
Nor is my state concealed from slanderers.
You travel from the camping ground, but leave behind
My wasted body and my anguished soul.
You dwell within my inmost parts;
My tears flow and my eyes drip blood.
My heart’s blood is a ransom for the absent ones,
And that I long for them is clear to see.
The pupil of my eye rejects sleep for its love,
And its tears follow one another as they fall.
My foes may think that I endure his loss;
Far from it, and my ears are blocked to them.
Their hopes in me are not to be fulfilled;
Only Qamar al-Zaman can bring me what I wish.
In him are virtues such as no king had before.
His bounty and his kindness cause men to forget
The clemency of Mu‘awiya and Ibn Za’ida the generous.
Poetry cannot describe his loveliness;
Would this not take too long, I’d leave no rhyme unused.
Budur then got to her feet, wiped away her tears, performed the ritual ablution and began to pray. Her prayers continued until Hayat al-Nufus had fallen asleep, at which point she came and slept beside her until morning. She then got up, performed the morning prayer and took her seat on the royal throne, issuing orders and prohibitions and giving equitable judgements. So much for her, but as for King Armanus, he came to his daughter to ask how she was and she told him everything that happened and recited Budur’s poem for him. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘I have never seen a more intelligent or a more modest man than my husband, but he keeps on sighing and weeping.’ ‘Be patient, daughter,’ replied the king. ‘This is the third night and if he does not go in to you and take your maidenhead, I shall have to think again and take steps, deposing him as king and banishing him from my lands.’ He and his daughter agreed on what he had determined to do.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and tenth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Armanus and his daughter agreed on what he had determined to do. When night fell, Budur rose from the council room and, on entering the palace, she went to the apartments that had been prepared for her. Here she found Hayat al-Nufus sitting with the candles lit. Thinking of her husband and how recently she had been parted from him, with tears and deep sighs Budur recited these lines:
I swear that the world is full of tales of me,
Like the sun rising over tamarisks.
His gestures were eloquent but hard to understand,
And so my longing grows and does not end.
Since I began to love you I have hated patience.
But have you ever seen a lover who hates love?
The beloved attacks with deadly, languorous glance.
The deadliest of glances are the languorous.<
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He let his hair down and unveiled his mouth;
On him I saw beauty both black and white.
For me his hands held both disease and cure;
The disease of love is cured by one who was its cause.
His belt is in love with the softness of his waist;
From jealousy his buttocks will not let him rise.
It is as though his forelock and the radiance of his brow
Were dark night held back by the light of dawn.
On finishing her poem, she was intending to get up to pray when Hayat al-Nufus grasped the bottom of her robe, and held on to it, saying: ‘Master, do you feel no shame before my father? He has treated you well and yet you have left me alone until now.’ When Budur heard this, she sat up where she was and said: ‘My darling, what are you saying?’ Hayat al-Nufus replied: ‘I am saying that I have never seen anyone as pleased with himself as you. Are all handsome people like this? It is not to make you want me that I have said this, but because I am afraid for you because of my father. Unless you lie with me tonight and take my virginity, in the morning he intends to remove you from the throne and drive you from the country. It may even be that in an excess of anger he will kill you. It is out of pity for you that I have given you advice, but do whatever you think fit.’ On hearing this, Budur bent her head down towards the ground in a state of perplexity. ‘If I go against the king’s wishes, I am lost,’ she said to herself, ‘but if I obey him, I shall be disgraced. At the moment, I am the ruler of all the Ebony Islands and they are under my control. It is only here that I shall be able to meet Qamar al-Zaman, as he cannot reach his own country except from these islands. I don’t know what to do, and so I must entrust my affairs to God, for He is the most excellent of rulers. At any rate, I am no male so as to be able to deflower this virgin.’
She then said: ‘My darling, it is not because I wanted to that I have kept away from you,’ and she went on to explain what had happened to her from beginning to end and showed herself to Hayat al-Nufus. ‘I ask you in God’s Name,’ she said, ‘to keep my secret concealed and hidden until God reunites me with my beloved Qamar al-Zaman, and after that what will be will be.’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and eleventh night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Budur told her story to Hayat al-Nufus and asked her to keep her secret. Hayat al-Nufus was full of astonishment when she heard this story. She felt sympathy for Budur and prayed that she would meet her beloved, adding: ‘Don’t fear or be alarmed, sister, but wait patiently for God to bring about what has been fated.’ She then recited:
I keep your secret inside a locked room;
The key is lost and the room sealed.
It is only the trustworthy who keep secrets,
And no good man will betray them.
After finishing these lines, she went on: ‘The breasts of the noble are the graves of secrets, and I shall never reveal yours.’ Then the two played with each other, exchanging embraces and kisses, after which they slept until it was nearly time for the call to morning prayer. Hayat al-Nufus got up and took a young pigeon whose throat she cut over her chemise, smearing herself with its blood. She removed her drawers and gave a shriek, at which the members of her household came in, with the slave girls uttering shrill cries of joy. Her mother asked her how she was and stayed with her, looking after her until evening. As for Budur, she got up in the morning, went to the baths and washed, after which she performed the morning prayer, before going to the audience hall, where she sat on the royal throne, delivering judgements to the people. When Armanus heard the cries, he asked what they meant and was pleased and relieved to hear that his daughter had lost her virginity. He gave a great banquet and things stayed like this for some time.
So much for Budur and Hayat al-Nufus, but as for King Shahriman, when his son went out to hunt, accompanied by Marzuwan as has been described, he waited until nightfall on the day after they had left and when his son did not return he passed a long and sleepless night in a state of great agitation. His longing for his son increased and he could not believe that dawn would ever come. When it was morning, he waited expectantly for his son until midday, but when he was still absent, his father felt the pangs of separation and burned with anxiety. ‘Alas for my boy,’ he said, and he wept until his clothes were sodden with tears. He then recited broken-heartedly:
I used to object to lovers
Until I was afflicted by the sweet bitterness of love.
I gulped down the cup of love’s rejection,
Humbling myself before its slaves and its freemen.
Time vowed that it would make the lovers part,
And now it has fulfilled its vow.
When he had finished his poem, he wiped away his tears and called to his men to be ready to move out on a long journey. They all mounted and he himself rode off on fire with anxiety for his son and with his heart filled with sorrow. They pressed on with their journey and the king split his force into six divisions, including a right and a left wing, a vanguard and a rearguard, telling them to rendezvous on the following day at the crossroads. The troops then split up and continued on their way for the rest of the day until it grew dark. They went on all through the night until, at midday on the following day, they reached the crossroads. They did not know which road Qamar al-Zaman would have taken, but then they saw on one of the tracks the remains of torn clothes and flesh as well as traces of blood.
When the king saw this, he gave a great cry that came from the bottom of his heart. ‘O my son,’ he said, striking his face, tugging hairs from his beard and tearing his clothes. Convinced that his son was dead, he wept bitterly and sobbed, and his men joined in his tears, all of them being sure that Qamar al-Zaman must be dead. They poured dust on their heads and when night fell they were still weeping, so much so that they were almost on the point of death. With his heart burning with fiery sighs, the king recited these lines:
Do not blame the sorrowful for his sorrow;
The passion of his distress is enough for him.
He weeps for his great grief and for his pain;
His suffering tells you of the fires that burn in him.
Sa‘d, who helps a prisoner of love for whom grief swears
It will not halt the flow of tears from his eyelids?
He shows distress at the loss of a shining moon,
Whose radiance has outshone all other moons.
Death offered him a brimming cup
On the day he left his own country.
He left his lands and us to meet disaster,
With no friend to take leave of him.
He abandoned me by going far away,
With harsh rejection and the agony of parting.
He has left us and has gone, taking his leave,
When God welcomed him to Paradise.
When he had finished his recitation, the king returned with his men to the city…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and twelfth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when King Shahriman had finished his recitation, he returned with his men to the city, convinced that his son was dead and believing that he had been attacked and carried off, either by wild beasts or by highwaymen. He had it proclaimed in the Khalidan Islands that people were to wear black as a token of mourning for Qamar al-Zaman, and he built for himself what he called the House of Sorrow. Every Monday and Thursday, he would conduct state business with his troops and his subjects, while for the rest of the week he would enter the House of Sorrow to mourn for his son and recite elegies, among them being the lines:
The day my wishes were fulfilled was when you were near me,
While the day of death was when you turned away.
Although I pass the night in fear, threatened with destruction,
Union w
ith you is sweeter than being safe.
Other lines of his are:
May my life be the ransom for travellers, although their parting
Brought damage, ruin and disaster to my heart.
Let joy restrain itself and wait, for when they left
I divorced happiness three times.
So much for King Shahriman, but as for Princess Budur, after she had become ruler of the Ebony Islands, people started to point at her and say: ‘That is King Armanus’s son-in-law.’ Every night she would sleep with Hayat al-Nufus, to whom she would complain of the loneliness she felt in being separated from her husband, Qamar al-Zaman, whose beauty she would describe, in tears, expressing her wish to be united with him, if only in a dream. She would recite:
God knows that when you left I wept
Until I had to borrow tears on credit.
A censurer said: ‘Patience, for you will find your love again.’
‘Censurer,’ I asked, ‘where can I find patience?’
So much for Princess Budur, while as for Qamar al-Zaman, he stayed for a time with the gardener in the orchard. He used to shed tears night and day and recite poetry, sighing with regret for happier times and for nights when his wishes were fulfilled, while the gardener kept telling him that at the end of the year a ship would sail for the lands of the Muslims. Things went on like this until one day he saw people gathering together. He was surprised, but the gardener came and told him: ‘My son, there is no need to work today, so don’t bother to water the trees. This is a feast day when people go to visit each other. Take a rest, but keep an eye on the garden as I want to go to look for a ship for you. Soon I shall send you off to Muslim territory.’
He then left the orchard and Qamar al-Zaman stayed there alone, thinking over his situation broken-heartedly. So bitterly did he weep that he fainted, and when he had recovered, he got up and walked in the orchard, brooding on what Time had done to him and on his long separation. While he was distracted and not paying attention, he tripped and fell on his face. His forehead struck a tree root and, as a result of the blow, blood flowed down, mingling with his tears. He wiped the blood away, dried his tears and, after bandaging his forehead with a rag, he got up and walked around the orchard, absent-mindedly, plunged in thought. He then happened to see two birds quarrelling on top of a tree. One of them attacked the other, pecking it on the throat which it cut through, and then flying off with its head. The corpse fell to the ground in front of Qamar al-Zaman, and while he was standing there, another two large birds swooped down on it. One of them stood at the top of the bird’s corpse and the other at its tail, and they spread their wings and their beaks over it, stretching out their necks towards it and shedding tears. When Qamar al-Zaman saw them weeping over their companion, he too shed tears because of his separation from his wife and because of the memory of his father.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 99