At that, Ibrahim al-Nazzam said: ‘Tell me about the poet’s lines:
Its skirts are slender and its taste is sweet;
It is like a spear but has no point.
It provides advantages for mankind
And is eaten after the afternoon prayer in Ramadan.’
‘This is the sugar-cane,’ she replied.
He then said: ‘Answer me a number of questions.’ ‘What are they?’ she asked. He replied: ‘What is sweeter than honey? What is sharper than a sword? What is swifter than poison? What is the pleasure of an hour? What is three days’ happiness? What is the pleasantest day? What is the joy of a week? What is the due that even a liar will not deny? What is the prison of the tomb? What is the heart’s delight? What tricks the soul? What is the death of life? What is the disease that cannot be cured? What is the disgrace that cannot be effaced? What is the beast that lives in the wild and does not approach cultivated land; it hates mankind and is created with the nature of seven powerful creatures?’ She said: ‘Listen to my answers and then strip off your robe so that I may explain things to you.’ ‘Explain,’ said the caliph, ‘and he will take off his robe.’ So she said: ‘The thing that is sweeter than honey is children who are dutiful towards their parents. What is sharper than the sword is the tongue, while what is swifter than poison is the eye of the malignant. Sexual intercourse is the pleasure of an hour, while three days’ happiness is a woman’s depilatory. The pleasantest day is when one makes a trading profit. The joy of a week is marriage and the due that not even a liar can deny is death. The prison of the tomb is a bad son. The heart’s delight is a wife who obeys her husband, but it is also said that this is meat when it is swallowed, as this rejoices the heart. What tricks the soul is a disobedient slave, while the death of life is poverty. As for the incurable disease, this is an evil character, and the disgrace that cannot be effaced is a bad daughter. The beast that lives in the wild and does not approach cultivated land, hating mankind and created with the nature of seven powerful creatures, is the locust. Its head is like that of a horse; it has a bull’s neck, an eagle’s wings and the feet of a camel. Its tail is that of a snake, its belly is that of a scorpion and its horns are those of a gazelle.’
The caliph Harun al-Rashid, astonished by her skill and understanding, told al-Nazzam to take off his robe. He got up and said: ‘I call all those who are present at this gathering to bear witness against me that this girl is more learned than I am and than all other scholars.’ He took off his robes and told her: ‘Take them, but may God give you no blessing with them.’ The caliph then ordered robes to be brought for him to put on, after which he said to Tawaddud: ‘There is still one thing left that you promised to do, and that is to play chess.’ At his command, the masters of chess, cards and backgammon were brought to him. The chess player sat with Tawaddud, the pieces were set out and play began. Whatever move he made she very soon blocked…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the four hundred and sixty-first night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when Tawaddud played chess with the expert, whatever move he made she soon blocked, until she got the better of him and he found himself checkmated. ‘I wanted to tempt you,’ he explained, ‘so that you might think yourself an expert, but now set out the pieces and I’ll show you.’ When she had done this, he said to himself: ‘Keep your eyes open or else she will beat you.’ So all his moves were made with due calculation, but at the end of the game it was she who said checkmate. When he saw that, he was astonished at her skill and understanding, while she laughed and said: ‘I will lay a bet with you on this third game and remove my queen for you as well as my right-side rook and my left-side knight. If you beat me, take my robes, and if I beat you, I shall take yours.’ Her opponent accepted the condition, and when they had set out the pieces she removed her queen, rook and knight and then said: ‘Move, master.’ He said to himself: ‘I must be able to beat her now that she has sacrificed these pieces.’ He planned his strategy, but within a few moves she had got a new queen to face him, after which she pressed him with attacking pawns as well as other pieces. She then offered the sacrifice of a piece, which he accepted, at which she said: ‘When the measure is full and the balance is equal, if you eat until you are too full, what kills you, man, is greed. Don’t you see that I tempted you in order to trick you? Look and you will see that this is checkmate.’ Then she told him to strip off his clothes. ‘Leave me my trousers, may God reward you,’ he pleaded, and then he swore by God never again to challenge anyone as long as Tawaddud remained in the kingdom of Baghdad. After that he took off his clothes, handed them to her and left.
The backgammon player came up next and Tawaddud asked: ‘If I beat you today, what will you give me?’ ‘Ten robes of brocade from Constantinople,’ he said, ‘embroidered with gold, ten robes of velvet and a thousand dinars, whereas if I beat you, all I want from you is a signed note to certify that I won.’ She agreed to his terms; they played and he lost, after which he got up, muttering in the language of the Franks and swearing: ‘By the grace of the Commander of the Faithful, this girl has no match anywhere in the world.’
The caliph then summoned the musicians, and when they had come he asked Tawaddud whether she knew anything about musical instruments. ‘Yes,’ she said, and at his command a lute was produced, rubbed and worn, whose sorrowful owner had had to part from it, as a poet has described:
God watered a land that produced a tree for a musician,
With thriving branches and healthy roots.
While it was green, song birds perched on it;
Then, when it was dry, singing girls chanted over it.
The lute was brought in a bag of red satin with a cord of saffron-coloured silk. Tawaddud undid the bag and brought out the lute, on which were inscribed these lines:
A fresh branch has become a lute for a girl
Who sings songs of yearning for her companions in the assemblies.
She sings to a repetitive strain,
As though she had been taught by tuneful nightingales.
Tawaddud set the lute in her lap underneath her breasts, bending over it like a mother over her child. She played twelve airs until the whole assembly swayed with delight, and she chanted the lines:
Cut short this parting; do not be so cruel;
I swear to you that my heart has not forgotten you.
Have pity on one who weeps in sadness and sorrow,
A passionate lover enslaved by love for you.
The caliph was overjoyed and exclaimed: ‘God bless you and show His mercy to your teacher!’ at which Tawaddud got up and kissed the ground before him. He ordered money to be fetched, and he paid her owner a hundred thousand dinars. He then asked her to make a wish, at which she said: ‘My wish is to be restored to my master who has sold me.’ The caliph agreed to this and handed her back, giving her five thousand dinars for herself and taking her master as a lifelong boon companion…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the four hundred and sixty-second night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the caliph gave the girl five thousand dinars and handed her back to her master, whom he took as a lifelong boon companion, with a monthly allowance of a thousand dinars, after which he and Tawaddud enjoyed a life of plenty.
Your majesty should admire the eloquence of this girl, together with the extent of her learning and understanding, together with her prowess in all branches of knowledge. Look, too, at the generosity of the caliph Harun al-Rashid, who, after having given all that money to her master, asked her to make a wish and when she wished to be returned to her master he gave her back, with a gift of five thousand dinars for herself, after which he made her master one of his boon companions. Where is such generosity to be found now, after the passing of the Abbasid caliphs, may Almighty God have mercy on them all?
> A story is told, O fortunate king, that in the old days a certain king wanted to ride out one day with a number of his courtiers and officers of state in order to show off his splendid trappings to his people. He ordered his emirs and the great men of his state to prepare themselves to accompany him. He ordered the master of his wardrobe to bring out for him the most splendid robes that would suitably adorn him, and he had the best and finest of his pure-blood horses brought out. After this had been done, he chose the clothes that he preferred and took his pick of the horses. Then he put on the clothes, mounted the horse and rode out with his cortège, wearing a collar studded with gems, pearls of all kinds and rubies. As he rode among his men, exulting in his pride and haughtiness, Iblis approached him, put his hand on his nostril and blew arrogance and conceit into his nose. He swelled with pride, telling himself that there was no one like him in the world, and he started to manifest such a measure of haughtiness and vainglory that in his arrogance he would not look at anyone.
A man wearing shabby clothes stood in front of him and greeted him, and when the king failed to return the greeting he seized his horse’s rein. ‘Take your hand away,’ said the king, ‘for you don’t know whose rein it is that you are holding.’ ‘There is something that I need from you,’ said the man. The king replied: ‘Wait until I dismount and then you can tell me what it is.’ ‘It is a secret,’ the man said, ‘and I can only whisper it into your ear.’ The king bent down to listen and the man said: ‘I am the angel of death and I intend to take your soul.’ ‘Give me time to go home to say goodbye to my family, my children, my neighbours and my wife,’ the king asked, but the angel said: ‘You are not going to go back and you will never see them again, for the span of your life is at an end.’ He then took the king’s soul and he fell dead from the back of his horse.
The angel of death went from there to a pious man, with whom Almighty God was pleased. After they had exchanged greetings, the angel said: ‘Pious man, there is something that I need from you and it is a secret.’ ‘Whisper it in my ear,’ said the man, and the angel then told him: ‘I am the angel of death.’ ‘Welcome,’ said the man. ‘Praise be to God that you are here, for I have often been expecting you to arrive and you have long been absent from one who has yearned for your coming.’ ‘If you have any business to do, finish it,’ the angel told him, but the man said: ‘There is nothing I have to do that is more important than meeting my Lord, the Great and Glorious God.’ ‘How do you want me to take your soul,’ asked the angel, ‘for I have been ordered to do this in whatever way you choose?’ ‘Wait, then,’ said the man, ‘until I perform the ablution and begin to pray. When I prostrate myself in prayer, then take my soul.’ The angel said: ‘As I have been ordered to do whatever you want in this matter, I shall do what you say.’ The man got up, performed his ablution and began to pray. While he was prostrating himself, the angel of death took his soul and Almighty God brought it to the place of mercy, approval and forgiveness.
A story is told that a certain king had collected a vast and uncountable quantity of wealth, together with quantities of every kind of thing created in this world by Almighty God, in order to make life luxurious for himself. As he wanted to give himself the opportunity to enjoy the treasures he had collected, he built for himself a lofty palace, towering into the air, such as was suitable for kings. He gave it two strong gates and posted in it as many servants, soldiers and gatekeepers as he wanted.
One day, he ordered the cook to prepare a delicious meal and he brought together his family, his retainers, his companions and his servants to enjoy his hospitality by sharing the meal with him. He took his seat on his royal throne, reclining on a cushion, and he said to himself: ‘My soul, you have collected all the good things there are in this world and now you can take your ease and taste them in the enjoyment of a long life and prosperous fortune.’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the four hundred and sixty-third night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the king told himself that he could taste all the good things there are in the world in the enjoyment of a long life and prosperous fortune, but before he had finished what he was saying a man arrived from outside the palace wearing tattered clothes with a bag hung round his neck, apparently a beggar asking for food. When he came, he knocked loudly with the door-ring, almost shaking the castle and rocking the throne. The servants rushed to the gate in fear and shouted: ‘Damn you, what is this display of bad manners? Wait until the king has eaten and we will give you some of the leftovers.’ He said: ‘Tell your master to come out to me, for I have business with him that is of the greatest importance.’ ‘Go away, you feeble-witted fellow,’ they said. ‘Who are you to order our master to come out to you?’ ‘Tell him what I said,’ he insisted, and so they went to the king and told him what had happened. ‘Why didn’t you scare him off,’ said the king, ‘drawing your swords and driving him away?’ There was then an even louder knock on the door, at which the servants rushed to attack the man with clubs and weapons, but he shouted to them: ‘Stay where you are. I am the angel of death.’ They were frightened out of their wits, and as they trembled with terror they lost control of their limbs. ‘Tell him to take someone else in my place,’ said the king, but the angel said: ‘I shall take no substitute for you. It is for you that I have come, to part you from the treasures that you have collected and the wealth that you have acquired and stored up.’ The king then sighed deeply and, bursting into tears, he said: ‘May God curse the wealth that has deceived me and harmed me by keeping me from worshipping my Lord. I used to think that it would help me, but now it is a source of grief and harm to me as I have to leave it empty-handed and it will pass to my enemies.’ God then allowed his wealth to speak and it said: ‘Why do you curse me? Rather, curse yourself. God created both me and you from dust, and He placed me in your hands so that through me you could make provision for your afterlife and give me as alms to the poor, the wretched and the weak, and that you could use me for the building of hospices, mosques, dykes and bridges. I would then have been a help to you in the next world, but as it is you collected me, stored me up and spent me on your own desires, showing ingratitude rather than thankfulness to me. Now you have bequeathed me to your enemies, leaving yourself remorse and regret, but what fault is it of mine and why should you abuse me?’
The angel of death then took the king’s soul as he sat on his throne before he had eaten his meal, and he fell down dead. God Almighty has said: ‘When they were rejoicing at what they had been given, We took them suddenly and they were in despair.’*
A story is told that a powerful king of the Israelites was sitting one day on his royal throne when he saw a man coming in through the palace door with an appearance that was both unpleasing and awesome. The king shrank back in fear at this as the man approached, but then, jumping up in front of him, he said: ‘Man, who are you and who gave you permission to enter my palace and come into my presence?’ ‘It was the master of the house who ordered me to come,’ said the man. ‘No chamberlain can keep me out; I need no permission to come into the presence of kings; I fear the power of no ruler or the number of his guards. I am the one from whom no tyrant can find refuge, nor can any flee from my grasp. I am the destroyer of delights and the parter of friends.’ When the king heard this, he fell on his face and his whole body trembled. At first he lost consciousness, but when he recovered he said: ‘Are you the angel of death?’ ‘Yes,’ said the angel, and the king then said: ‘Allow me a single day’s delay so that I may ask pardon for my sins and seek forgiveness from my Lord, returning the wealth that is in my treasuries to its owners lest I have to endure the hardship of having to account for it and the pain of punishment for it.’ The angel said: ‘Impossible – there is no way in which you can be granted this.’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the four hundred and sixty-fourth nig
ht, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the angel said: ‘Impossible – there is no way in which you can be granted this. How can I allow you any delay when the days of your life have been counted, your breaths numbered and all your minutes set down in the book of fate?’ ‘Give me just one hour,’ the king said, but the angel replied: ‘The hour has been accounted for. It passed while you were still paying no attention and you have used up all your breaths except for one.’ ‘Who will be with me when I am carried to my grave?’ asked the king, and the angel said: ‘Nothing will be with you except for your own deeds.’ ‘I have no good deeds,’ the king said. ‘There is no doubt that your resting place will be hellfire and you will experience the anger of the Omnipotent God,’ said the angel. He then took the king’s soul and the king fell to the ground from his throne. There followed a great outcry among his subjects; voices were raised and there was loud wailing and weeping, but had they known what awaited the king of God’s anger, their show of grief would have been even more intense and bitter.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights Page 41