The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights
Page 97
When Gharib heard this he gave a great cry and fell down in a faint, but after he had been sprinkled with rosewater he recovered and asked: ‘Are you the son of Gharib by Fakhr Taj?’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, and Gharib said: ‘You are a champion and the son of a champion. Release my son from his fetters.’ At that, Sahim and al-Kailajan came forward and freed him, after which his father embraced him and gave him a seat at his side. ‘Where is your mother?’ he asked, and when Murad Shah told him that she was in his tent, Gharib told him to bring her to him. Murad Shah mounted and rode back to his camp, where his companions met him, full of joy at his safe return, but when they asked him how he was he replied: ‘This is not the time for questions,’ and he went to his mother and told her what had happened. She was overjoyed, and when he brought her to his father the two of them embraced in happiness at their reunion. Both Fakhr Taj and Murad Shah accepted Islam and, when it was expounded to them, their army embraced it with hearts and tongues, to Gharib’s delight. He then sent for Sabur and his son and reproached them for what they had done. He offered them conversion, and when they refused it he had them crucified on the city gate.
Isbanir was adorned with decorations by its joyful citizens, who crowned Murad Shah with the crown of the Chosroes, accepting him as king of the Persians, the Turks and the Dailamis. Gharib sent off his uncle al-Damigh as king of Iraq, while he himself was obeyed by all lands and peoples. He remained in his kingdom, treating his subjects with justice and winning the love of all. They continued to lead the pleasantest of lives until they were visited by the destroyer of delights and the parter of companions. Praise be to the Eternal God, Whose glory remains and Whose great gifts are showered on His creatures.
This is what we have heard of the story of Gharib and ‘Ajib.
A story is also told that ‘ABDALLAH IBN MA‘MAR AL-QAISI SAID: ‘One year I went on pilgrimage to the Haram of Mecca. When I had completed my pilgrimage, I went back to visit the tomb of the Prophet of God, may God bless him and give him peace, and one night when I was sitting in the Rawda, between the tomb and the pulpit, I heard a low voice moaning softly and when I listened I could distinguish the following lines:
Has the lament of the doves in the lote tree prompted your sorrow,
Rousing unease within your heart,
Or are you distressed by the memory of a lovely girl,
Who has brought thoughts to trouble you?
Night is long for the sick at heart
Who complain of passion and the loss of patience.
My beloved allows no sleep to the lover who burns with love,
Flaming like lighted coals.
The full moon bears witness for me that I am in love,
And full of longing for one who is like it.
I never thought that love would cause me pain,
Until, unwittingly, I felt its power.
The voice then broke off and, as I did not know where it came from, I stayed there in perplexity until suddenly it started again, reciting sorrowfully:
Has a visit from Rayya’s phantom stirred your sorrow,
A phantom coming in the dark depths of night?
Love has accustomed your eyes to sleeplessness,
But when this phantom came, your inmost heart was roused.
I called out to the night, when in its darkness,
It was like a sea in flood with tossing waves:
‘Night, how long you are for a lover
Whom none can help or aid, apart from dawn.
For it is love that comes to bring you low.’
When the reciter began on these lines I moved towards the sound of his voice, and by the time that he had finished them I had reached him. He turned out to be a most handsome youth whose cheeks did not yet show traces of down, and on which tears had worn twin channels.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and eighty-first night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that ‘ABDALLAH SAID:
When the reciter began on these lines I moved towards the sound of his voice, and by the time that he had finished them I had reached him. He turned out to be a most handsome youth whose cheeks did not yet show traces of down, and on which tears had worn twin channels. I wished him well and he returned my greeting before asking who I was, to which I replied that I was ‘Abdallah ibn Ma‘mar al-Qaisi. He then asked whether there was anything that I wanted, and I said: ‘I was sitting in the Rawda tonight when I was stirred by the sound of your voice. I would like to help you, so tell me what disturbs you.’ He told me to sit down and when I had he said: ‘I am ‘Utba ibn al-Hubab ibn al-Mundhir ibn al-Jammuh al-Ansari. I went this morning to the Mosque of al-Ahzab, where I stayed to perform my rak‘as and prostrations, after which I went off on my own to continue my devotions. Suddenly a band of women appeared, radiant as moons and swaying as they walked. They were surrounding a girl of extraordinary beauty and perfect loveliness, who stood over me and asked: “ ‘Utba, what would you say to union with one who wants union with you?” She then went off and left me, and I have heard nothing more or come across any trace of her, and so I am wandering to and fro not knowing what to do.’
He gave a cry, collapsing on the ground in a faint, and when he recovered, it was as though the delicate complexion of his cheeks had been dyed with saffron. He then recited these lines:
My heart can see you from a distant land,
But can yours, far off as it is, see me?
My heart and my eyes grieve for you;
My soul is with you; your memory stays with me.
My life would have no pleasure without you,
Even in Paradise, the garden of immortality.
‘ ‘Utba, my nephew,’ I said, ‘repent to God and ask His forgiveness for your sin, since before you lies the terror of the Day of Judgement.’ ‘Far be that from me,’ he answered, ‘for I shall never forget this until the two acacia gatherers return.’*
I stayed with him until dawn broke, and then I told him to go with me to the mosque. We stayed there until we had performed the noon prayer and although the women arrived at that point, the girl was not with them. ‘ ‘Utba,’ they said, ‘what do you think has happened to the one who wanted union with you?’ ‘What has happened to her?’ he asked, and they told him that her father had taken her off on a journey to al-Samawa. I asked them the girl’s name and they told me that she was Rayya, the daughter of al-Ghitrif al-Sulami. ‘Utba then raised his head and recited these lines:
My two companions, Rayya left at dawn,
And her caravan is on its way to al-Samawa.
My two companions, I am overwhelmed by tears;
Does anyone have tears for me to borrow?
I said: ‘ ‘Utba, I have come here with ample funds, intending to use them to help satisfy the needs of honourable men, and I swear by God that I shall use them for you so as to get you what you want and more. Come with me to the assembly of the Ansar.’* We got up and went there, after which I greeted those present and they returned a courteous greeting. ‘Men of the Ansar,’ I said, ‘what have you to say about ‘Utba and his father?’ ‘They are among the chiefs of the Arabs,’ was the reply, and so I went on: ‘You must know that ‘Utba has been struck down by the calamity of love, and I would like your help on a visit to al-Samawa.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ they replied, and we rode out in their company until we came near the Sulami camp. When al-Ghitrif learned that we were there, he quickly came out to meet us and greeted us courteously. In return we wished him a long life and told him that we had come as his guests. ‘You have come to the most generous and liberal of camps,’ he answered, and he then called to his slaves, who spread out mats and cushions and slaughtered camels and sheep. We said: ‘We shall not eat your food until you grant us our request.’ ‘And what is that?’ he asked, and we told him: ‘We ask you to give your noble daughter in marriage to ‘Utba ibn al-Hubab ibn al-Mundhir, a well-born man of high repute.’
He replied: ‘My brothers, my daughter, for whose hand you ask, is her own mistress, but I shall go in and tell her.’
He got up angrily and went to Rayya, who asked him the reason for this show of rage, and he told her: ‘Some of the Ansar have come to ask me to give you away in marriage.’ ‘They are noble chiefs,’ she pointed out, ‘and the Prophet, on whom be the best of blessings, intercedes for them with God. To whom do they want to marry me?’ ‘A young man named ‘Utba ibn al-Hubab,’ her father replied, and she said: ‘I have heard that he keeps his promises and gets what he wants.’ Her father said: ‘I have sworn that I shall never marry you to him, for I have heard tales of your talk with him.’ ‘What was that?’ she asked, and then she added: ‘I swear that the Ansar must not be given an uncivil refusal, so turn them away politely.’ When he asked how that was to be done, she said: ‘Ask them for a high bride price and they will go away.’ He approved of this and went out quickly and said: ‘My daughter accepts, but wants a bride price worthy of her. Who will provide it?’ ‘I will,’ I said, and he then told me: ‘I want a thousand bracelets of red gold, five thousand dirhams minted in Hajar, a hundred robes, plain and striped, and five bladders full of ambergris.’ ‘I promise you that,’ I said, ‘so do you consent to the marriage?’ ‘I consent,’ he replied.
I sent a number of the Ansar to Medina who fetched all I had promised, and after this camels and sheep were slaughtered, as the people assembled for a feast. We stayed there for forty days, after which the Sulamis said: ‘Take your bride.’ We mounted her on a howdah and thirty camels carried her wedding gifts. We took our leave and set off, but when we were within one stage of Medina we were attacked by a raiding party who were, I think, Sulamis. ‘Utba charged them and killed a number of them, but came back wounded and collapsed on the ground. The local inhabitants came to help us and drove off the attackers, but by that time ‘Utba was dead. We cried out in sorrow, and when Rayya heard the news she threw herself down from her camel and leaned over him with an agonized cry, reciting these lines:
I showed patience, but how could I be patient,
Consoling my soul that it was on its way to you?
Had it acted fairly, it would have forestalled all others
By going before you on the road to death.
When you and I have gone, no one will treat a friend fairly;
No soul will be in harmony with another.
She then sighed once and gave up the ghost. We dug a single grave for the two of them and buried them in the earth. I went back to the lands of my own people and stayed for seven years before returning to visit the shrines of Medina. I had made up my mind to go to ‘Utba’s grave, and when I got there I found a tall tree growing on which were hung strips of red, yellow and green cloth. I asked the local people what it was called and they said: ‘The tree of the bride and groom.’ I stayed there for a day and a night before leaving, and this was the end of my dealings with ‘Utba, may God Almighty have mercy on him.
A story is also told that al-Nu‘man’s daughter Hind was the most beautiful of all the women of her time. When al-Hajjaj was told how lovely she was, he asked for her hand in marriage and offered a huge sum of money for her, as well as promising two hundred thousand dirhams as a wedding gift. The marriage was arranged and when it had been consummated, he stayed with her for a long time. Then, one day, he went to her room while she was looking at herself in a mirror. She was reciting these lines:
Hind is a pure-bred Arab mare, covered by a mule.
If she produces a filly, the praise will all be hers,
But if it is a mule, the mule has fathered it.
When he heard that he went back and never came to visit her again, while for her part she knew nothing about what had happened. He then wanted to divorce her and sent ‘Abd Allah ibn Tahir to do this for him. ‘Abd Allah went to her and said: ‘Al-Hajjaj Abu Muhammad has delayed the payment of the two hundred thousand dirhams that were your wedding gift. I have brought them with me and he has entrusted me as his agent to divorce you.’ She said: ‘Let me tell you, Ibn Tahir, that I never enjoyed a single day when we were together. If we part, by God, I shall never regret him and you can keep the two hundred thousand dirhams as a reward for bringing me the good news that I am free from the dog of Thaqif.’ ‘Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan heard about her. Her beauty, the symmetry of her form, the sweetness of her diction and her flirtatious glances were described to him, and he sent to ask for her hand in marriage.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and eighty-second night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the caliph ‘Abd al-Malik heard of Hind’s beauty and grace, he sent to ask for her hand. In reply she sent a letter saying: ‘Praise be to God and blessings be on His Prophet, Muhammad, may God bless him and give him peace. To continue: you must know, Commander of the Faithful, that the dog has licked the bowl.’ The caliph laughed when he read this and in his reply he quoted a saying of the Prophet: ‘When the dog licks the bowl, wash it out seven times, once using earth.’ He added: ‘So wash off the dirt from where the bowl was used.’ After she had read his letter she could not refuse, but she wrote back starting her letter with the praise of God and continuing: ‘I shall only marry you on one condition, and if you ask what this is, I shall tell you. The camel carrying my litter is to be led to wherever you are by al-Hajjaj, who is to be barefooted but dressed in his usual clothes.’
When the caliph read this, he roared with laughter and sent an order to al-Hajjaj to tell him to do this. After reading the message, al-Hajjaj sent word to Hind to tell her to make her preparations, and when her litter was ready, he came with his retinue to her door. When she got on to the litter, her slave girls and eunuchs mounted around her, while al-Hajjaj walked barefoot holding the reins of the camel. As he led it she began to jeer at him, mocking and laughing at him, as did her attendants and slave girls. On her instructions, the attendants drew back the curtain of the litter so that she was face to face with him. When she laughed at him, he recited:
You may laugh, Hind, but on many a night
I left you awake and weeping.
She answered him with these two lines:
If our lives are safe, what do we care for the loss of money and goods?
Money can be won and glory restored, when a destructive disease is cured.
She continued to laugh and make fun of him until she was nearly at the caliph’s city. When she got there she dropped a dinar on the ground and called out: ‘Camel driver, I have dropped a dirham; look for it and give it back to me.’ Al-Hajjaj looked down but could only see a dinar. When he told her this, she said: ‘No, it is a dirham.’ When she insisted that it must be a dirham and he repeated that it was a dinar, she embarrassed him by saying: ‘Praise be to God, Who has given me a dinar in exchange for a worthless dirham. Give it to me.’ He then brought her to the caliph’s palace where she went in to meet him, subsequently becoming a favourite of his.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and eighty-third night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that in the days of the caliph Sulaiman ibn ‘Abd al-Malik* there was a man of the Banu Asad named Khuzaima ibn Bishr. He showed generosity and great liberality, and treated his companions well. He continued to follow this path until fortune brought him down and he found himself in need of help from those to whom he had been so generous. They did help him for a time, but they grew tired of it, and when he noticed this he went to his wife, who was his cousin, and said: ‘Cousin, I see that my companions have changed, and so I have made up my mind not to leave my house until I die.’ He bolted the door and stayed there eating what food there was in the house until this was exhausted and he was at his wits’ end.
‘Ikrima ibn al-Fayyad al-Raba‘i, governor of al-Jazira, was an acquaintance of his, and one day, when ‘Ikrima was in his asse
mbly room, Khuzaima’s name was mentioned and ‘Ikrima asked how he was, only to be told that he was at home in the direst of straits, having locked himself in. ‘This has happened because he had been so generous,’ said ‘Ikrima, adding, ‘but how is it that he has not found anyone to help and support him?’ ‘He received nothing of that kind,’ people told him, and so, when night came, ‘Ikrima took four thousand dinars and put them in a single bag. He then ordered his riding beast to be saddled and, without his family’s knowledge, he rode out secretly, accompanied by one of his servants, who was carrying the money. When he got to Khuzaima’s door he took the bag from the servant and sent him off, after which he went up and knocked on the door himself. When Khuzaima came out, ‘Ikrima gave him the bag and said: ‘Use this to put your affairs in order.’ Khuzaima took it and, finding it heavy, he put it down and took hold of ‘Ikrima’s bridle, saying: ‘Who are you, may my life be your ransom?’ ‘I have not come at a time like this because I wanted you to recognize me,’ ‘Ikrima said, but Khuzaima insisted: ‘I shall not let you go until you tell me who you are.’ ‘I am Jabir Atharat al-Kiram,’† ‘Ikrima told him, and when Khuzaima said: ‘Tell me more,’ he refused.
When ‘Ikrima had gone, Khuzaima took the bag to his wife and said: ‘Good news! God has brought us prompt relief and good fortune. If these are dirhams in this bag, there are a lot of them, so get up and light the lamp.’ ‘There is nothing to light it with,’ she told him, and he started to finger the coins in the darkness. He discovered that they felt rough, like dinars, but he refused to believe that this could be true. As for ‘Ikrima, when he got home he discovered that his wife had missed him, and that when she had asked about him, she had been told that he had ridden off. She disapproved of this and said suspiciously: ‘The governor of al-Jazira does not ride out at the dead of night unaccompanied by servants and without letting his family know, except to call on a wife or a concubine.’ ‘God knows that it was neither of these that I went to visit,’ he told her, but she pressed him to tell her why he had gone. ‘I only went at that time so that no one should know,’ he said, but then, when she continued to insist, he said: ‘Will you keep it secret?’ ‘Yes,’ she replied, and he told her how things were and what he had done. ‘Would you like me to swear to this?’ he asked, to which she replied: ‘No, no. You have set my heart at rest and I can rely on what you told me.’