She spread out three locks of her hair one night,
And so showed me four nights.
She turned to face the heavenly moon,
So showing me two moons at once.
When she approached ‘Ala’ al-Din, he said: ‘Keep your distance from me, lest you infect me.’ She uncovered the upper and under side of her wrist, with its white clear as silver. Then she told him to keep away from her lest he infect her with his leprosy. ‘Who told you that I was a leper?’ he asked, and when she told him that it was the old woman, he said: ‘I, too, was told by her that you were leprous.’ He uncovered his forearm for her, and she found that his flesh was like pure silver.
She then clasped him to her bosom and he clasped her to his breast. They embraced each other and she took him and lay back, undoing her drawers. The tool that his father had bequeathed him moved and he called out: ‘Help me, Shaikh Zacharias, father of veins.’ He put his hands on her hips and, setting the vein of sweetness to the Gate of the Cleft, he pushed until it reached the Lattice Gate and passed through the Gate of Victories. After that, he entered the Monday market, the Tuesday market, the Wednesday market and the Thursday market. He found that the carpet filled the room and he moved the tuber round against its covering until the two met.
In the morning, he said to the girl: ‘Before our joy has been completed, the crow has taken it and flown away.’ ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘Lady,’ he answered, ‘I can only stay with you for this one hour.’ ‘Who says so?’ she asked. He replied: ‘Your father drew up a contract requiring me to pay ten thousand dinars as your dowry. If I don’t pay it over today, they will imprison me for its non-payment in the house of the qadi, but I can’t even pay the smallest fraction of this sum.’ ‘Do you hold the marriage contract or do they?’ she asked. ‘I have the contract,’ he said, ‘but I have nothing else.’ ‘This is easy,’ she told him, ‘and there is nothing to be afraid of. Take these hundred dinars, and if I had more I would give you what you want. Because of his love for his nephew, my father moved all his own goods from mine to his nephew’s house, and he even took all my jewellery. When he sends you a messenger from the shari‘a court tomorrow…’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and fifty-seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Zubaida told ‘Ala’ al-Din: ‘When they send you a messenger from the shari‘a court tomorrow, and the qadi and my father tell you to divorce me, say: “What school of law allows me to marry in the evening and divorce in the morning?” Then kiss the qadi’s hand and give him a douceur. Kiss the hands of the witnesses and give them ten dinars each. They will all talk with you and when they ask why you won’t consent to a divorce and take the thousand dinars, the mule and the clothes following the condition that they agreed with you, tell them: “Every hair of her head is worth a thousand dinars to me. I shall never divorce her and take the clothes or anything else.” When the qadi then tells you to pay over the dowry, tell him that you are short of money at the moment. The qadi and the witnesses will be reluctant to press you and will allow you a delay.’
While they were talking, the qadi’s envoy knocked on the door and when ‘Ala’ al-Din went out to meet him, he told ‘Ala’ al-Din to come and speak to the effendi, as his father-in-law wanted him. ‘Ala’ al-Din gave the usher five dinars and asked him which school of law sanctioned an evening marriage followed by a morning divorce. ‘We do not hold this permissible at all,’ said the man, ‘and if you are ignorant of the law, I shall act as your attorney.’ When they got to the court, the qadi asked: ‘Why don’t you divorce the woman and take what is due to you by the conditions of the agreement?’ ‘Ala’ al-Din went up to him and kissed his hand, into which he put fifty dinars. ‘O qadi,’ he said, ‘my master, what school of law sanctions an evening marriage followed in the morning by compulsory divorce?’ The reply was: ‘A forced divorce is not permitted by any of the Muslim schools of law.’ The girl’s father then said: ‘If you’re not going to divorce her, then pay me the ten-thousand-dinar dowry.’ ‘Give me three days’ grace,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din. ‘That is not a long enough delay,’ said the qadi. ‘He should allow you ten days.’ They agreed on this, the condition being that after ten days ‘Ala’ al-Din should either pay the dowry or divorce Zubaida.
On these terms ‘Ala’ al-Din left, and after buying meat, rice, butter and what other foodstuffs he needed, he set off to the house and, going in, he told Zubaida all that had happened to him. ‘Marvels can happen between a day and a night,’ she told him, adding: ‘How eloquent was the poet who said:
Show gentleness when you are angry,
And patience when misfortune visits you.
Time leaves the nights heavily pregnant;
They will give birth to wonders of all kinds.’
She got up, prepared the food and brought out the table. They ate, drank and enjoyed themselves, after which ‘Ala’ al-Din asked her for some music. Zubaida took the lute and played a tune that would move the solid rocks with delight and cause the strings to cry out in ecstasy: ‘O David!’ Then she quickened the tempo, but while she and ‘Ala’ al-Din were enjoying themselves in cheerful relaxation, there was a sudden knock on the door. ‘Get up and see who it is,’ Zubaida told ‘Ala’ al-Din, and so he went down and opened the door to find four dervishes standing there. When he asked them what they wanted, they said: ‘Master, we are dervishes from foreign parts. Music and the subtleties of poetry are the food of our souls and we would like to spend the night relaxing with you until morning, when we shall be on our way. Almighty God will reward you. We love music and each one of us knows by heart odes, poems and muwashshahat.’ ‘I shall have to consult,’ ‘Ala’ al-Din said, and he then went and told Zubaida, who told him to open the door for the visitors. He did this and after having brought them up, he gave them seats and made them welcome.
He produced food for them but they did not eat, telling him: ‘Master, our food is the repetition of the Name of God in our hearts, and listening to music with our ears. How eloquent was the poet who said:
Our only purpose is to meet together;
Eating is the mark of beasts.
We were listening to beautiful music coming from your house, but when we came up, it stopped. Was it a slave, white or black, who was playing, or a well-born girl?’ ‘That was my wife,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din, and he told them everything that had happened to him, adding: ‘My father-in-law wants me to pay a dowry of ten thousand dinars, and has allowed me a delay of ten days.’ One of the dervishes said: ‘Be cheerful rather than sad. I am the shaikh of a monastery and under my control and authority are forty dervishes. I shall collect ten thousand dinars for you from them to pay off the dowry that you owe your father-in-law. So tell your wife to play us an enjoyable tune to revive us. To some people music is food, to others medicine, and to others cheerfulness.’
These dervishes were, in fact, the caliph Harun al-Rashid, Ja‘far the Barmecide, his vizier, Abu Nuwas al-Hasan ibn Hani’ and Masrur, the executioner. They had passed by Zubaida’s house because the caliph, in a melancholy mood, had told his vizier that he wanted to go out and stroll through the city as he was feeling depressed. They dressed as dervishes, went down to the city and passed the house, from which they heard music coming, prompting them to find out what was happening. They passed the night in harmonious enjoyment, exchanging stories until morning came. The caliph put a hundred dinars under the prayer rug, took leave of ‘Ala’ al-Din, and then he and the others went on their way.
When Zubaida lifted up the rug, she saw the money lying beneath it and she said to ‘Ala’ al-Din: ‘Take these hundred dinars that I found under the prayer rug. The dervishes must have put them there without our knowledge before they left.’ ‘Ala’ al-Din took the money and bought meat, rice, butter and everything else he needed. The following night, he lit the candles and said to Zubaida: ‘The dervishes have not br
ought the ten thousand dinars that they promised me, but they are poor men.’ As they were talking, the ‘dervishes’ knocked on the door. Zubaida told ‘Ala’ al-Din to go down and open up for them, and when they had come up, he asked them whether they had brought the promised dinars. They told him: ‘We couldn’t get hold of any, but have no fear. If God Almighty wills it, tomorrow we will concoct an alchemical brew for you. Now tell your wife to let us hear some splendid piece of music to revive our spirits, as music is what we love.’ So she played them a tune on her lute that would make the solid rocks dance. They passed a pleasant and happy night in joyful conversation until dawn broke and the light spread. After the caliph had again slipped a hundred dinars under the prayer rug, he and his companions took leave of ‘Ala’ al-Din and left him, going off on their way.
They kept on coming back to him in this way for nine nights, on each of which the caliph left a hundred dinars under the prayer rug. On the tenth night, they did not arrive. The reason was that the caliph had sent a message to one of the leading merchants, saying: ‘Bring me fifty loads of materials from Cairo…’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and fifty-eighth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the caliph had told the merchant: ‘Bring me fifty loads of materials from Cairo, each worth a thousand dinars, with its price marked on it, and bring me also an Abyssinian slave.’ When the merchant had produced all this, the caliph handed the slave a basin and ewer of gold, together with a present and the fifty loads. He wrote a letter purporting to come from Shams al-Din, the syndic of the Cairene merchants. He told the slave: ‘Take these loads and the other things; go to such-and-such a quarter in which the syndic of the merchants has his house and ask for ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat. The people will direct you to the right quarter and to his house.’
The slave took what he was told to bring and set off as the caliph had ordered him. So much for him, but as for Zubaida’s cousin, he went to her father and said: ‘Come on, let us go to ‘Ala’ al-Din and get him to divorce Zubaida.’ Her father came down and the two of them set off to see ‘Ala’ al-Din. When they got to the house, they found fifty mules with fifty loads of materials and a slave riding on another mule. ‘Whose are these loads?’ they asked him, and he replied: ‘They belong to my master, ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat. His father had provided him with merchandise and sent him off to Baghdad, but he was intercepted by Bedouin who took his money and his goods. When his father heard of this, he sent me to bring him replacement loads and he also sent with me a mule laden with fifty thousand dinars, a bundle of valuable clothes, a sable coat and a ewer and basin of gold.’ ‘Ala’ al-Din is my son-in-law,’ said Zubaida’s father, ‘and I will direct you to his house.’
While ‘Ala’ al-Din was sitting plunged in gloom, there was a knock on the door. ‘Zubaida,’ he said, ‘I am sure that your father has sent me a messenger either from the qadi or from the wali.’ ‘Go down,’ she said, ‘and find out what is happening.’ So he went down, opened the door and saw his father-in-law, the syndic of the merchants, together with a dusky-coloured, pleasant-faced Abyssinian slave mounted on a mule. This man dismounted and kissed his hands. ‘What do you want?’ asked ‘Ala’ al-Din. ‘I am the slave of my master ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, the son of Shams al-Din, syndic of the Cairene merchants,’ he replied, ‘whose father has sent me to him in charge of this.’ He then handed over the letter, which ‘Ala’ al-Din took, opened and read. In it he found written the lines:
Letter, when my beloved sees you,
Kiss the ground and kiss his shoes.
Go slowly; don’t be hasty.
My rest and my life are in his hands.*
The letter continued: ‘Greetings and honourable salutations from Shams al-Din to his son Abu’l-Shamat. Know, my son, that I have heard the news of the slaughter of your men and the plunder of your wealth and your goods. In their place I have sent you fifty loads of Egyptian material, a suit of clothes, a sable coat and a ewer and basin of gold. There is no cause for fear; the money was your ransom, and you should never be sad. Your mother and the rest of the household are in good health and are doing well. They send you many greetings. News has reached me that you were made an interim husband for Zubaida the lute player, whose dowry was set at fifty thousand dinars. This sum is sent to you with the loads of merchandise, together with your slave, Salim.’
When ‘Ala’ al-Din had finished reading the letter, he took charge of the loads, and then, turning to his father-in-law, he told him to take the dinars for his daughter’s dowry and to dispose of the merchandise, keeping any profit for himself but returning the capital cost. ‘By God,’ replied his father-in-law, ‘I shall not take anything, and as for your wife’s dowry, you and she must settle the matter between yourselves.’ He and ‘Ala’ al-Din entered the house, after the merchandise had been taken in, and Zubaida asked her father: ‘To whom does all this belong?’ He replied: ‘These goods belong to your husband, ‘Ala’ al-Din, and they were sent by his father to make up for the ones that the Bedouin stole from him. He also sent fifty thousand dinars, a bundle of clothes, a sable coat, a mule, and a ewer and basin made of gold. It is for you to decide what you want to do about the dowry.’ Zubaida’s cousin said: ‘Uncle, make ‘Ala’ al-Din divorce my wife for me.’ ‘That’s no longer at all possible,’ said his uncle, ‘as it is he who holds the contract.’
The young man went off depressed and dejected. He was ill when he went to bed and death then overtook him. As for ‘Ala’ al-Din, he took the loads of merchandise and went to the market, where he bought what he needed in the way of food, drink and butter. He set out a meal, as he had done every night, but he said to Zubaida: ‘Look at these lying dervishes. They made us a promise and then broke it.’ She replied: ‘You are the son of the syndic of the merchants, and if you couldn’t raise half a fidda, how would these poor dervishes manage?’ ‘Almighty God enabled us to do without them,’ he said, ‘but I shall not open the door for them again if they come to us.’ ‘Why?’ she said. ‘It was only through their coming that fortune visited us, and every night they used to put a hundred dinars under the prayer rug. If they do come, you must certainly open up for them.’
When daylight began to fade and night to fall, the candles were lit and ‘Ala’ al-Din asked Zubaida to play something for him. Just then, there was a knock on the door and Zubaida told ‘Ala’ al-Din to go and see who was there. He went down, opened the door and saw the ‘dervishes’. ‘Welcome to the liars,’ he said. ‘Come up.’ They went up with him and he seated them and brought them a meal. They ate, drank and enjoyed themselves; and then they said: ‘Master, we are concerned for you. What happened to you with your father-in-law?’ ‘Ala’ al-Din replied: ‘In exchange for my losses, God gave me more than I had wished for.’ ‘By God,’ they said, ‘we were afraid for you…’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and fifty-ninth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the dervishes told ‘Ala’ al-Din: ‘By God, we were afraid for you, and we only stayed away because we couldn’t find the money.’ ‘Ala’ al-Din told them: ‘Quick relief came to me from my Lord. My father sent me fifty thousand dinars, fifty loads of materials, each worth a thousand dinars, a suit of clothes, a sable coat, a mule, a slave and a ewer and basin of gold. I have made my peace with my father-in-law and am now legally married, praise be to God.’ The caliph got up to relieve himself and Ja‘far, the vizier, leaned over to ‘Ala’ al-Din and said: ‘Be sure to mind your manners, for you are in the presence of the Commander of the Faithful.’ ‘What rudeness have I shown in the presence of the Commander of the Faithful and which of you is he?’ Ja‘far replied: ‘The man who was speaking to you and who got up to relieve himself was the Commander of the Faithful, the caliph Harun al-Rashid. I am Ja‘far, the vizier; th
is is Masrur, the executioner, and this is Abu Nuwas al-Hasan ibn Hani’. Use your intelligence, ‘Ala’ al-Din. How many days do you think it takes to travel from Cairo to Baghdad?’ ‘Forty-five,’ replied ‘Ala’ al-Din. ‘It is only ten days since your goods were plundered,’ said Ja‘far, ‘so how could the news have reached your father, and these loads been packed for you, and a forty-five-day journey been completed in ten days?’ ‘Where did this come from then, sir?’ asked ‘Ala’ al-Din. ‘From the caliph, the Commander of the Faithful,’ said Ja‘far, ‘because of the great love he has for you.’
While they were talking, the caliph came back. ‘Ala’ al-Din got up, kissed the ground before him, and said: ‘May God preserve you, Commander of the Faithful, and prolong your life. May the people never be deprived of your grace and bounty.’ ‘ ‘Ala’ al-Din,’ said the caliph, ‘let Zubaida play us a tune as a sweetener to mark your well-being.’ Zubaida then played on her lute a tune of such rare beauty that the solid rocks were moved with joy and the lute itself cried out in ecstasy: ‘O David!’ They spent the night in the happiest of states until morning came. At that point, the caliph told ‘Ala’ al-Din to come to his court the next day. ‘To hear is to obey,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din. ‘I shall come, God willing, if you are well.’ He then took ten salvers, setting on each a splendid gift, and the next day he brought them to the court.
The caliph was sitting there on his throne when ‘Ala’ al-Din came in through the door reciting these lines:
May glorious fortune greet you every morning
And may the envious be humbled.
May your days continue to be white,
While those of your enemies are black.
The caliph welcomed him, and ‘Ala’ al-Din then said: ‘Commander of the Faithful, the Prophet, may God bless him and give him peace, accepted gifts, and these ten salvers and what is on them are a gift from me to you.’ The caliph accepted the gift and ordered that ‘Ala’ al-Din be given a robe of honour, after which he appointed him as syndic of the merchants and gave him a seat in his court. While he was sitting there, Zubaida’s father came in to find him sitting in his own place, wearing his robe of honour. ‘Commander of the Faithful, king of the age,’ he said, ‘what is this man doing sitting in my place, wearing this robe?’ The caliph said: ‘I have appointed him syndic of the merchants, for offices are conferred by appointment and not held for life. You are deposed.’ ‘He is in every way one of ours,’ said Zubaida’s father. ‘How excellent is your action, Commander of the Faithful! May God place the best of us in charge of our affairs and how many a small man has become great.’ The caliph then wrote a decree of appointment for ‘Ala’ al-Din which he gave to the wali, who, in turn, gave it to the crier. The crier called out in the court: ‘The syndic of the merchants is ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat. His orders are to be obeyed and his dignity respected. He is to be treated with the honour and esteem owed to his high rank.’ When the court had been dismissed, the wali and the crier walked in front of ‘Ala’ al-Din and the crier began to proclaim: ‘The syndic of the merchants is my lord ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat.’ The people in the streets of Baghdad flocked around him as the crier kept repeating his proclamation.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 111