The emir had Aslan circumcised and gave him the best possible upbringing. He provided him with a faqih, who was also a calligrapher and who taught him to read and write. He read through the Quran a first and then a second time, and memorized the whole of it, and he grew up addressing the emir as ‘my father’. The emir used to take him to the training ground where he collected horsemen and taught him the arts of war and how to thrust and strike until he became a brave and accomplished horseman, and when he was fourteen years old he was appointed to the rank of emir.
As it happened, one day Aslan fell in with Ahmad Qamaqim, the master thief, and they became companions. Aslan followed Ahmad to a drinking den, where Ahmad produced the jewelled lamp that he had stolen from the caliph’s treasures, and he drank by its light until he became drunk. Aslan then asked him to give him the lamp, but he said: ‘I can’t give it to you.’ ‘Why not?’ asked Aslan and Ahmad told him: ‘Lives have been lost because of it.’ ‘Whose life was that?’ asked Aslan and Ahmad told him: ‘A man named ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat came here and was appointed hexarch. It was he who died because of this lamp.’ Aslan asked to be told the story and why it was that ‘Ala’ al-Din had died. Ahmad said: ‘You had a brother named Habzalam Bazaza. When he was sixteen years old he was ready to marry and his father wanted to buy him a slave girl.’ He then went over the story from beginning to end, telling Aslan of Habzalam Bazaza’s illness and ‘Ala’ al-Din’s unjust fate. ‘It may be,’ said Aslan to himself, ‘that this slave girl was my mother Yasmin and that my father was ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat.’
He left Ahmad sorrowfully and came across Ahmad al-Danaf, who, catching sight of him, exclaimed: ‘Glory be to God, Who has no match!’ ‘What are you marvelling at, master?’ Hasan Shuman asked him. ‘At the appearance of this boy, Aslan,’ he replied, ‘because he very closely resembles ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat.’ He then called out to Aslan, and when Aslan answered, Ahmad asked him the name of his mother. ‘She is called Yasmin,’ Aslan told him. ‘Joy and happiness be yours,’ said Ahmad, ‘for your father is ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat. Go to your mother and ask her about your father.’ Aslan did this and his mother told him: ‘The emir Khalid is your father.’ He contradicted her and said: ‘ ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat is my father,’ at which his mother wept and asked him: ‘Who told you that?’ When he said that it was Ahmad al-Danaf, she told him everything that had happened. ‘My son,’ she went on, ‘the truth has come out and falsehood has disappeared. Know that your father was indeed ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, but that it was the emir Khalid who brought you up and who took you as his son. If you meet Ahmad al-Danaf say to him: “Master, I ask you in God’s Name to take vengeance for me on the killer of my father, ‘Ala’ al-Din.” ’
Aslan left her and went off…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and sixty-seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Aslan left her and went off, and on coming to Ahmad al-Danaf, he kissed his hand. ‘What is it, Aslan?’ Ahmad asked. ‘I now know for certain that ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat was my father and I want you to avenge me on his killer.’ When Ahmad asked who this was, Aslan told him that it was Ahmad Qamaqim, the master thief. ‘Who told you that?’ Ahmad asked, and Aslan replied: ‘I saw in his possession the jewelled lamp that went missing from the caliph’s treasures. When I asked him to give it to me, he refused, telling me that lives had been lost because of it. He then said that it was he who had gone down, stolen the things and put them in my father’s house.’ Ahmad told him: ‘When you see the wali, Khalid, putting on his armour, ask him to give you armour as well, and when you go out with him, perform some act of courage in the presence of the Commander of the Faithful, who will then allow you to wish for what you want. Say to him: “I wish that you would avenge my father on his killer.” He will then say: “Your father, the emir Khalid, the wali, is still alive,” and you must then say: “My father was ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, and I am only indebted to the emir Khalid for having nurtured me.” Then tell him all that happened between you and Ahmad Qamaqim, the master thief, and say: “Give orders that he be searched, Commander of the Faithful, and I will produce the lamp from his pocket.” ’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ said Aslan.
He then went off and found the emir Khalid getting ready to go up to the caliph’s court. ‘I would like you to dress me in armour like yours,’ he said, ‘and to take me to court with you.’ Khalid agreed to this, and the caliph left the city with his troops and, after setting up pavilions and tents, they drew up in ranks and started exercising with balls and polo mallets. One rider would strike the ball with his stick and another would hit it back to him. It happened that among the soldiers there was a spy who had been induced to try to kill the caliph. This man got the ball and hit it with his stick straight at the caliph’s face. Aslan, however, intercepted it in front of the caliph and hit it back at the spy so that it struck him between the shoulders and he fell to the ground. ‘God bless you, Aslan!’ exclaimed the caliph, and after they had all dismounted and taken their seats, he ordered that the man who had struck the ball be brought to him. When he came, the caliph asked him: ‘Who induced you to do this and are you friend or foe?’ ‘I am a foe,’ replied the man, ‘and I was intending to kill you.’ ‘Why?’ the caliph asked. ‘Are you not a Muslim?’ ‘No,’ said the man. ‘I am a rafidi,’ and at that the caliph ordered him to be killed.
The caliph then told Aslan to make a wish and Aslan said: ‘I wish that you would take vengeance for my father on his killer.’ ‘But your father is alive and standing on his feet,’ objected the caliph. ‘Who is my father?’ asked Aslan. ‘The emir Khalid, the wali,’ said the caliph. ‘Commander of the Faithful,’ said Aslan, ‘the emir is not my father except in so far as he brought me up. My real father is ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat.’ ‘Then your father was a traitor,’ the caliph said. ‘God forbid that “the Trusty” should be a traitor, Commander of the Faithful,’ said Aslan. ‘How did he betray you?’ ‘He stole my robe and all that went with it,’ said the caliph. ‘God forbid that my father should have been a traitor,’ repeated Aslan and he went on to ask: ‘When you lost your robe and it was then restored to you, did you find that the lamp came back as well?’ ‘We never discovered it,’ said the caliph, at which Aslan told him: ‘I saw it in the possession of Ahmad Qamaqim, and when I asked him for it he did not give it to me, saying that lives had been lost because of it. He then told me of the illness of Habzalam Bazaza, the son of the emir Khalid, of his love for Yasmin, the slave girl, and of how he himself had been released from his fetters, adding that it was he who had stolen the robe and the lamp. So take revenge for my father on his killer, Commander of the Faithful.’
On the caliph’s orders Ahmad Qamaqim was seized. The caliph asked: ‘Where is Ahmad al-Danaf, the captain?’ and when Ahmad presented himself, the caliph told him to search Qamaqim. He did so and, putting his hand in Qamaqim’s pocket, he drew out the jewelled lamp. ‘Come here, traitor,’ ordered the caliph. ‘Where did you get this lamp?’ ‘I bought it, Commander of the Faithful,’ Qamaqim replied. ‘Where did you buy it and who would have been able to sell you such a thing?’ He was then beaten until he confessed that it was he who stole the robe and the lamp. ‘Why did you do this, traitor, bringing about the destruction of ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, “the Trusty”?’ the caliph asked, and he then ordered his arrest and that of the wali. The wali complained: ‘I am being treated unjustly. It was you who ordered me to hang ‘Ala’ al-Din. I didn’t know anything about this trick and it was the old woman together with Ahmad Qamaqim and my wife who planned it without my knowledge. I appeal to you, Aslan, for protection.’ Aslan interceded for him with the caliph, who then asked the wali what he had done with Aslan’s mother. ‘She is still with me,’ the wali told him, and the caliph said: ‘I command you to order your wife to dress Yasmin in her robes, re
turning her jewellery and restoring her to her former status. Then remove the seal from ‘Ala’ al-Din’s house and give his son his property and his goods.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ said the wali and he then went off and gave orders to his wife, who dressed Yasmin in her robes, while he himself removed the seal from ‘Ala’ al-Din’s house and gave the keys to Aslan.
After this the caliph told Aslan to make a wish. ‘My wish is for you to allow me to meet my father,’ Aslan said. The caliph shed tears and said: ‘It is most likely that your father was the man who was hanged and so is dead, but I swear by the lives of my ancestors that if anyone brings me the good news that he is still alive, I shall give him all he asks for.’ At that Ahmad al-Danaf came forward and said: ‘Grant me indemnity, Commander of the Faithful.’ When the caliph had promised him this, he said: ‘I give you the good news that ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, the trusty and faithful, is alive and well.’ ‘What are you saying?’ exclaimed the caliph. ‘I swear by your head that what I say is true,’ said Ahmad. ‘I saved him by providing a man, who deserved to be killed, in his place, and I took him to Alexandria, where I opened a second-hand shop for him.’ ‘You must bring him to me,’ said the caliph.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and sixty-eighth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the caliph told Ahmad al-Danaf to fetch ‘Ala’ al-Din, he said: ‘To hear is to obey,’ and after the caliph had ordered him to be given ten thousand dinars, he set off for Alexandria.
So much for Aslan, but as for his father, ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, he had sold all but a small amount of the contents of his shop. There remained one bag, and when he shook it, out fell a jewel big enough to fill the palm of the hand, fastened to a golden chain. It had five facets and was inscribed with writing like ants’ trails with names and talismans. ‘Ala’ al-Din rubbed the facets but without any response, and so he told himself that it was probably a piece of onyx. He hung it up in his shop, and a foreign consul who happened to be passing by on the road looked up and saw it there. He sat down in the shop and asked ‘Ala’ al-Din if it was for sale. ‘Everything that I have is for sale,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din and the man then asked: ‘Will you sell it to me for eighty thousand dinars?’ ‘Come, come,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din. ‘For a hundred thousand?’ asked the man. ‘Ala’ al-Din agreed to this and said: ‘Hand me over the cash.’ ‘I can’t carry this with me,’ the man said, ‘as there are robbers and rogues in Alexandria, but if you come with me to my ship, I shall hand over the price and give you a bale of Angora wool, together with another of satin, one of velvet and one of broadcloth.’
‘Ala’ al-Din got up and closed up his shop, handing over the jewel to his customer and giving the keys to his neighbour, telling him: ‘Keep these in trust for me until I go to the ship with this consul and come back with the money for the jewel. If I’m slow in returning and Captain Ahmad al-Danaf, the man who settled me in here, arrives, hand over the keys to him and tell him what has happened.’ He then set off for the ship together with the consul, and when he came on board this man got him a chair and seated him on it. He told his men to fetch the money, which he then paid to Ahmad, together with the five bales he had promised him. ‘Do me the honour of taking a bite of food or a drink of water,’ he said. ‘If you have some water,’ answered Ahmad, ‘then give me a drink.’ The man ordered sherbet to be fetched, but he drugged it with banj, and when ‘Ala’ al-Din drank it, he fell over backwards. The sailors stowed the chairs, put away the poles and unfurled the sails, after which favourable winds took them out to sea.
The captain now ordered ‘Ala’ al-Din to be brought up from the cabin, and when this was done they gave him a sniff of the antidote to banj. He opened his eyes and said: ‘Where am I?’ ‘You are with me,’ replied the captain, ‘and I’m holding you as a prisoner. Had you gone on saying: “Come, come,” I would have offered you more.’ ‘What is your trade?’ asked Ahmad. ‘I am a sea captain,’ the man replied, ‘and I want to bring you to the darling of my heart.’
While the two of them were talking a ship came in sight carrying forty Muslim merchants. The captain laid his ship against theirs and fastened grapnels to it, after which he and his men boarded it, plundered it and took it as a prize to Genoa. Taking ‘Ala’ al-Din with him, he went to the sea gate of a palace where a girl, her face covered by a mouth-veil, came down to him and said: ‘Have you brought the jewel and its owner?’ ‘I have both of them here,’ replied the captain. ‘Give me the jewel,’ she said, and when he had done so he went off to the harbour and fired the ship’s guns to announce his safe return.
When the king of the city learned of his arrival he came out to meet him and asked what kind of a voyage he had had. ‘A very good one,’ replied the captain. ‘I captured a ship with forty Muslim merchants.’ ‘Land them on the dockside,’ said the king, and the captain had them brought out in chains, with ‘Ala’ al-Din among them. The king and the captain rode while the prisoners were made to walk in front of them until they came to the diwan. There the Genoese took their seats and when the first of the prisoners was brought forward the king asked: ‘Where do you come from, Muslim?’ ‘From Alexandria,’ the man answered. ‘Executioner, kill him,’ ordered the king. The executioner struck off his head and the same happened to the second, the third and then the others, until all forty were dead. ‘Ala’ al-Din, who was at the end of the line, shared their distress and said to himself: ‘May God have mercy on you, ‘Ala’ al-Din. Your life is ended.’ ‘And you,’ asked the king, ‘where are you from?’ ‘Alexandria,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din, and the king said: ‘Executioner, kill him.’ The executioner, holding the sword, had raised his arm and was about to strike at ‘Ala’ al-Din’s neck when a venerable-looking old woman came before the king, who rose respectfully. ‘Didn’t I tell you, O king, that when the captain brought in prisoners, you were to remember to assign one or two of them to serve in the monastery church?’ ‘Mother,’ said the king, ‘I wish you had come earlier, but you can take the one who is left.’ She then turned to ‘Ala’ al-Din and asked: ‘Will you serve in the church or shall I let the king kill you?’ ‘I will serve in the church,’ he told her.
Taking ‘Ala’ al-Din, she left the diwan and set off for the church. ‘Ala’ al-Din asked her what his duties would be and she said: ‘After getting up in the morning you have to take five mules, drive them to the forest, cut dry wood, split it and bring it to the monastery kitchen. After that, take up the carpets and clean and wipe the tiles and the marble before putting the carpets back in their place. Next, take half an ardabb’s measure of wheat, sieve it, grind it, knead it and make it into biscuits for the monastery. Then take a waiba’s measure of lentils, sieve them, crush them and cook them. You must then fill up the four fountains with water, bringing it in barrels, and fill three hundred and sixty wooden bowls with the biscuits, which you have broken up, and the lentils, after which you are to carry a bowl to each of the monks and the patriarchs.’ ‘Take me back to the king,’ exclaimed ‘Ala’ al-Din, ‘and let him kill me, as I’d find that easier than this service!’ ‘If you serve and perform your duties properly,’ said the old woman, ‘you will escape death, but if not, I shall let the king execute you.’ So ‘Ala’ al-Din sat there full of care.
In the church there were ten blind cripples. One of these told ‘Ala’ al-Din to bring him a pot, and when he did the man relieved himself into it and told ‘Ala’ al-Din to throw away the excrement, which he did. ‘May the Messiah bless you, servant of the church,’ the man said. At that point the old woman came in and asked him why he had not finished his duties in the church. ‘How many hands have I got with which to do all this?’ he exclaimed. ‘Madman,’ she said, ‘it was only as a servant that I brought you here.’ Then she told him: ‘Take this rod, my son’ – it was of brass, topped with a cross – ‘and go out into the street. When you come across the wali of the city, say
to him: “I summon you to the service of the church for the sake of our Lord, the Messiah.” He will not disobey you and you can let him take the wheat, sieve it, grind it, knead it and make it into biscuits. If anyone does disobey you, beat him and have no fear of anyone.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din and, acting on her instructions, he continued to press both high and low into service for seventeen years.
While he was sitting in the church the old woman came in and told him to leave. ‘Where am I to go?’ he asked. ‘Pass the night in a wine shop or with one of your companions,’ she told him, and when he asked why she was turning him out she said: ‘Husn Maryam, the daughter of Yuhanna, the king of Genoa, wants to make a pilgrimage to this church and no one must be sitting here when she comes.’ ‘Ala’ al-Din obediently got up and pretended to the old woman that he was leaving the church, but he said to himself: ‘Do you suppose that this princess is like our women or more beautiful? I’m not going to leave until I have had a look at her.’ He then hid in a little room which had a window opening on to the church. While he was gazing in that direction, in came the princess and he looked at her with a glance that was followed by a thousand sighs, as he found her to be like a full moon breaking through the clouds.
The princess was accompanied by a girl…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and sixty-ninth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when ‘Ala’ al-Din looked at the princess, he saw that she was accompanied by a girl, to whom she was saying: ‘You are good company, Zubaida.’ ‘Ala’ al-Din looked closely at the girl and saw that she was his former wife, Zubaida, the lute player, who was supposedly dead. ‘Come, play me a tune on your lute,’ the princess told her. ‘Not until you do what I want and keep the promise you made me,’ replied Zubaida. ‘What promise was that?’ asked the princess. ‘You promised to reunite me with my husband, ‘Ala’ al-Din Abu’l-Shamat, the trusty and faithful,’ said Zubaida. ‘You have cause for happiness,’ the princess told her, ‘so play a tune to celebrate your reunion with your husband.’ ‘Where is he?’ asked Zubaida. ‘In that little room, listening to us,’ replied the princess, and so Zubaida played a melody that would cause the solid rocks to dance. When ‘Ala’ al-Din heard it, he could not control his emotions; he came out of the room and rushed towards the two women, throwing his arms around his wife, Zubaida. She recognized him, and after the two of them had embraced they fell fainting on to the ground. The princess sprinkled them with rosewater and brought them back to consciousness. ‘God has reunited you,’ she said. ‘Through your kindness, my lady,’ said ‘Ala’ al-Din.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 114