I take refuge in the Lord from devilish wiles.
From them spring the misfortunes of mankind,
In matters of the world and in religion.” ’
On hearing what the treasurer had to say, the king looked down at the ground for a time, realizing that what his sons had said showed that they had been killed unjustly. He thought of the wiles of women and the calamities that they caused, after which he took the two bundles, unfastened them and started to turn over his sons’ clothes, weeping as he did so.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and twenty-fifth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the king took the two bundles, opened them and started to turn over his sons’ clothes, weeping as he did so. When he opened up al-As‘ad’s clothes, he found in the pocket a letter in the handwriting of his wife Budur, in which were hair bands of hers. He unfolded and read the piece of paper, and when he had understood its contents, he realized that al-As‘ad had been the victim of an injustice. He then searched through al-Amjad’s bundle and found in his pocket the letter written by Hayat al-Nufus, together with her hair bands. When he opened this and read it he realized that al-Amjad too had been wronged. Striking his hands together, he exclaimed: ‘There is no might and no power except with God, the Exalted, the Omnipotent! I have killed my sons unjustly.’ He began to strike his face, exclaiming: ‘Alas for my sons. How long will be my sorrow!’
On his orders, two tombs were built in one chamber, which he named the House of Sorrows, and on these tombs were engraved the names of his sons. He then threw himself down on the tomb of al-Amjad, weeping, moaning, complaining, and reciting these lines:
A moon that has set beneath the earth;
The gleaming stars have wept for it.
O branch, after your loss, the watching eyes
Could find nothing else that bent.
My jealousy has kept you from my sight
Until I reach the world to come.
I have drowned my sleepless eyes in tears;
It is for this I find myself in hell.
Then, throwing himself on al-As‘ad’s tomb, he wept, moaned and complained, reciting, in a flood of tears, the lines:
I used to wish that I might share your fate,
But what God willed was not what I had wished.
Between my eyes and the heavens all is black,
While the blackness in my pupils is rubbed away.
The tears I shed are inexhaustible,
As fresh supplies are sent on by my heart.
It saddens me to see you in a place
Where worthless men and glorious are both equal.
His laments increased, but when he had finished weeping and reciting poetry, he abandoned his friends and companions and cut himself off in his so-called House of Sorrows to mourn for his sons, having parted company from his wives and his familiars.
So much for him, but as for al-Amjad and al-As‘ad, they travelled on in the desert for a whole month, eating herbs and drinking from rain puddles. At the end of this time they came to a mountain range of black rock that spread out further than the eye could see. Here the track divided, with one path cutting through the middle and another climbing to the summit. This latter was the way that they took, but after having followed it for five days, they could still not see its end. They were exhausted with fatigue, not being used to walking on mountains or anywhere else, and so, despairing of reaching the end, they went back and started on the track that led through the middle of the range.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and twenty-sixth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the princes came back from the track that led up the mountains and started on the one that led through the middle of the range. They walked all that day until nightfall. Al-As‘ad, who had been tired out by the long journey, told his brother that he was too weak to walk any further. ‘Take heart, brother,’ said al-Amjad. ‘It may be that God will bring us relief.’ They walked on for some time in the night through the darkness until al-As‘ad became utterly exhausted. Telling his brother that he was too tired to go any further, he threw himself down on the ground in tears. Al-Amjad picked him up and started carrying him on for a while and then sitting down for a rest. This continued until dawn, by which time they had reached the crest. Here they found a spring of water with a pomegranate tree and prayer niche. At first they could not believe their eyes, but then they sat down by the spring, drank from its water and ate pomegranates from the tree. They slept there until the sun had risen, when they sat up, washed themselves in the spring and ate more pomegranates, after which they slept until afternoon.
They now wanted to go on, but al-As‘ad’s feet were too swollen to allow him to move and so they stayed there for three days until they were rested. After that, for some days and nights they travelled on the mountain, walking along the summit ridge. When they were almost dead of tiredness and thirst, they caught sight of a city in the distance. They went on cheerfully and, when they got near, they gave thanks to Almighty God. ‘Sit here, brother,’ said al-Amjad to al-As‘ad, ‘and I’ll go on to this city and find out what it is, to whom it belongs and where we are in God’s wide world. We shall then discover how many lands we have crossed in traversing the range. Had we walked along its foot, we wouldn’t have got here in a whole year, so praise be to God that we’re safe.’ ‘By God, brother,’ said al-As‘ad, ‘no one except me is going down there. I am your ransom and if you leave me now and go away for an hour, I shall have a thousand cares and be drowned in worries about you. I could not bear it if you left me.’ ‘Go down, then,’ said al-Amjad, ‘but don’t be long.’
So al-As‘ad went down from the mountain, taking with him some money and leaving his brother to wait for him. After he had reached the foot of the mountain, he went into the city and made his way through its lanes. On his way he was met by a very old man, whose forked beard hung down over his chest. He carried a staff in his hand and was wearing splendid robes, while on his head was a large red turban. Al-As‘ad was astonished at seeing how he was dressed, and, going up and greeting him, he asked the way to the market. When the old man heard what he said, he smiled at him and said: ‘It seems, my son, that you must be a stranger.’ ‘Yes, I am,’ replied al-As‘ad.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and twenty-seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the old man met al-As‘ad, he smiled at him and said: ‘It seems, my son, that you must be a stranger.’ ‘Yes, I am,’ replied al-As‘ad. ‘You have brought delight to our country, my son, while leaving the lands of your family desolate. What is it that you want from the market?’ ‘Uncle,’ answered al-As‘ad, ‘I have a brother whom I have left on the mountain. We have come from a distant land and have been travelling for three months. We caught sight of your city and I left my elder brother on the mountain and have come here to buy food and some provisions that I can take back to my brother.’ ‘I have good news for you, my son,’ said the old man. ‘I am giving a banquet with many guests, and have prepared the most delicious, excellent and appetizing foods. If you would like to come with me to my house, I shall give you whatever you want without taking anything at all in return, and I shall tell you all about the city. I give praise to God, my son, that it was I and no one else who fell in with you.’ ‘As you please,’ said al-As‘ad, ‘but be quick; my brother is expecting me and all his thoughts are with me.’
Taking al-As‘ad by the hand, the old man led him back to a narrow lane, smiling at him and saying: ‘Glory to God, Who preserved you from the people of the city.’ He walked on with al-As‘ad, until he entered a spacious house, where there was a room, in the centre of which sat forty old men, grouped in a circle, with a fire burning in the middl
e of it. They were seated around the fire and were worshipping it and prostrating themselves to it. When al-As‘ad saw that, he was stupefied and the hairs on his body bristled, as he did not know what they were doing. The old man cried out to the assembled company: ‘Shaikhs of the Fire, what a blessed day this is!’ Then he called: ‘Ghadban,’ and out came a tall black slave, with a fearsome form, a grim face and a flat nose. The old man gestured to him and he bound al-As‘ad tightly. ‘Take him to the underground chamber,’ ordered the old man, ‘and when you have left him there, tell the slave girl to see to it that he is tortured night and day.’
The slave took al-As‘ad down to the chamber and handed him over to the slave girl, who started to torture him. She would give him a single loaf to eat early in the morning and another in the evening, with two jugs of salty water, one in the morning and the other in the evening. The shaikhs said to each other: ‘When the time of the Fire Festival comes, we shall cut his throat on the mountain and sacrifice him to the Fire.’ The slave girl set about beating him so painfully that blood flowed from his sides and he fainted. She then put down a loaf and a jug of salty water by his head, before going away and leaving him alone. When he recovered consciousness in the middle of the night, he found himself in chains and suffering from the pain of his beating. He wept bitterly, recalling his past glory and good fortune, the royal power that he had held, and how he had been parted from his father and his kingdom.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and twenty-eighth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that al-As‘ad found himself in chains, suffering from the pain of his beating. He recalled his past glory and good fortune and the royal power that he had held. Weeping and sighing deeply, he recited these lines:
Halt by the ruins of the dwelling and ask for news of us,
But do not think that we are still where we used to be.
Time, which disperses friends, has parted us,
But the hearts of those who envy us are not yet cured.
A vile slave girl has beaten me with a whip;
Her heart was filled with hatred towards me.
It may perhaps be that God will reunite us,
Drive off our enemies and punish them.
When he had finished his poem, he stretched his hand up to his head, where he found the loaf and the jug of salty water. He ate a little, just enough to keep him alive, and drank some water, but swarms of bed bugs and lice kept him awake till morning. The slave girl then came down to him. She changed his clothes, which were drenched in blood and sticking to his skin. He cried out as some of his skin came off with his shirt, but then he said: ‘Lord, if this is Your will, increase my torture; God, You are not unmindful of the one who wrongs me, so avenge me on him.’ Then he sighed deeply and recited these lines:
My God, may I be patient in what You decree.
Should this please You, I shall endure my fate.
My Lord, may I bear patiently what You decree,
Even if I am thrown into a fire of twigs.
With their injustice my foes have wronged me;
To compensate, perhaps You may show favour.
Far be it from You, Lord, to overlook wrongdoers.
And my help comes from You, the Lord of destiny.
From another poet he quoted:
Turn aside from your affairs;
All these depend on fate.
There is many an affair that angers you,
But whose result is satisfaction.
The narrows may be broadened,
And the empty space narrowed.
God acts according to His wish;
Do not resist.
Rejoice that good will quickly come,
Removing from your mind all that has passed.
When he had finished, the slave girl beat him until he fainted and then put down a loaf of bread and a jug of salty water for him, after which she went off, leaving him alone and miserable, with blood streaming from his sides. His fetters were of iron, he was far from his loved ones, and so he wept, remembering his brother and his former glory.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and twenty-ninth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that al-As‘ad wept, remembering his brother and his former glory. Through his tears, moans and complaints, he recited these lines:
Go slowly, Time! How many injuries will you inflict on me,
And for how many days will you part me from my brothers?
Is it not now that you should pity
The length of this parting, you whose heart is hard as stone,
Who injures friends and causes enemies
To gloat because of the ruin you have brought?
The hearts of foes are comforted by what they see –
My exile, love and loneliness.
My grief, the parting from my friends, my inflamed eyes
Were not enough for them, until I was confined
In a narrow prison, on my own, biting my hand in my regret.
My tears flood down like rain pouring from clouds,
But still the fire of passion is not quenched.
Distress, love, memories – how much is there,
Allied with grief and panting sighs!
Longing and deadly sorrow must be faced,
In the abiding love that cripples me.
I meet no sympathetic friend
To pity me and come to visit me.
Does any truly love me and lament
My sickness and my lengthy sleeplessness,
To whom I might complain of my distress?
My eyes are wakeful and can find no sleep.
I pass long nights of torture and endure
The burning fire of care. Bed bugs and fleas
Have drunk my blood as one drinks wine
Passed by a red-lipped, tender girl.
Among the lice my body is an orphan’s hoard,
Entrusted to an atheist qadi.
I live in a three-cubit grave,
Fettered and drained of blood.
Tears are my wine; my music comes from chains;
Cares serve as my dessert; sorrows spread out my bed.
When he had finished these lines, he groaned and complained, thinking over his present position and how he had been parted from his brother.
So much for him, but as for al-Amjad, he stayed, waiting for his brother until midday. When he had still not come back, his heart fluttered and because of the violence of the pain of separation, he shed a flood of tears…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and thirtieth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that al-Amjad stayed, waiting for his brother until midday. When he had still not come back, his heart fluttered and because of the violence of the pain of separation, he shed a flood of tears, crying out, as he wept: ‘Alas for my brother, alas for my companion! How afraid I was that we would be parted!’ He then came down from the mountain, with tears running down his cheeks, and entered the city. He walked through it until he reached the market, where he asked about the city’s name and its inhabitants. The people told him that its name was the Magian City and that its inhabitants worshipped fire rather than the Omnipotent God. When he asked about the Ebony City they told him that it was a year’s journey away by land and six months by sea. They added: ‘Its king is called Armanus, but, after taking a prince as a son-in-law, he installed him in his place. The name of this ruler is Qamar al-Zaman, a just, beneficent, generous and trustworthy man.’
Al-Amjad burst into tears and lamentations on hearing his father’s name. He didn’t know where to go, but he had bought something to eat and, after going off into a place of concealment, he sat down. He was about to start eating when, remembering his brother, he burst into tears and c
ould only force himself to eat enough to keep himself alive. After that, he got up and walked back to the city to look for news of his brother and, finding a Muslim tailor in a shop, he sat down with him and told him his story. ‘If he has fallen into the hands of one of the Magians,’ said the tailor, ‘you stand little chance of seeing him again, but perhaps God may reunite you.’ Then he added: ‘Would you like to stay with me, brother?’ To the tailor’s delight, al-Amjad accepted and stayed with him for some days, during which the tailor tried to console him, urging him to be patient and teaching him tailoring until he became skilled.
One day, he went out to the seashore and washed his clothes, after which he entered the baths and put on clean clothes. On leaving the baths, he went sight-seeing in the city and on his way he came across a beautiful woman, with a symmetrical figure and outstanding loveliness, who had no equal in point of beauty. When she saw him, she lifted her veil and signalled to him with her eyes and eyebrows, giving him a flirtatious glance and reciting these lines:
When I saw you coming, I lowered my eyes,
As though, slender one, you were the sun’s own eye.
You are the loveliest of all who have appeared,
More beautiful today than you were yesterday.
Were beauty split up into lots,
Joseph would only have one-fifth or less than that.
The rest would all belong to you,
With every living soul serving as your ransom.*
When al-Amjad heard what she said, he was pleased and felt affection for her, finding himself a plaything in the hands of love. He gestured towards her and recited these lines:
The thorny lances of eyelashes guard the roses of the cheeks –
Who will be brave enough to try to pluck them out?
Do not reach out your hands to this beloved;
How many times the lances thrust merely because we looked!
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 103