Had I been awoken
A sweet farewell I would have spoken.’”
At these words the prince’s eyes filled with tears. The “Bedouin” turned as if wishing to ride away but the prince chased after him and begged him to remain:
“Stay with me, my Bedouin friend! I am heading back to my own country and I wish you to be my guest for some days.”
For the duration of the journey the two kept each other company. The prince never tired of hearing the Bedouin talk about the olive tree on the hill and how its shade fell like a tent on whoever stood below. Time and again he would turn the conversation to ask about the young woman of great beauty whom the Bedouin had seen wearing a bracelet of gold:
“Tell me, my dear traveling companion, what else did she say to you?”
Each time Olive Pit would give the same reply.
When they reached the prince’s country there were crowds waiting to receive him.
“Why so much excitement?” she asked.
“They are making preparations for a big celebration, for a wedding, for my wedding. I am to marry my uncle’s daughter. But I can set a room aside for you to use, my friend.”
As the saying goes, “The sad one came to be happy and gay. She found this was no place for her to stay.”
During the day Olive Pit would appear as the Bedouin and take her meals and converse with the prince. When evening came she joined the women and sang and danced with them as they celebrated: “Masked by daylight – her true self at night.”
The prince began to wonder why he only saw his friend the Bedouin during the day and then with the onset of evening the man vanished. He was nowhere to be found, not even in the quarters they had set aside for him. The prince also noticed a young girl, slim and elegant, who sat among the women and danced and sang with them. Why did he see her only in the evenings and never by day? And why did no one know anything about her?
Here was a puzzle and he began to keep watch. With a shock it dawned on him that the Bedouin and the girl were one and the same person. He was filled with joy. He was elated. “This is Olive Pit!” he said to himself, “And I cannot live without her!” On the morning of the wedding day he went to see the cousin who had been promised to him in marriage. He told her his story from beginning end. She was saddened but she agreed that his was a story of true love.
The prince then went and seated himself next to the Bedouin and said,
“O Bedouin, our brother, a favor I beg:
If you see the young woman, not so old,
Who is a wonder to behold,
With on her wrist a bracelet of rarest gold
And you hear her calling:
O my love, O people’s darling!
Lover of wine and glasses clinking!
Say to her, I beg:
Had I dared to wake her, I would have asked her then
If she would have me as her wedded husband,
In accordance with the laws of God and men.”
Olive Pit smiled and tore off the Bedouin head cloth. She was beautiful to begin with, now she became more beautiful still. The prince held her to his heart.
They signed the marriage deed
And placed it where all could see
That here was a husband and his wife
Bound by law and love for all their life.
THE FLY
A FLY LANDED on a wall and said:
“Wall, Wall, how tall you are!”
“What use is that?” said the wall, “When I can be nibbled by a rat?”
So the fly flit over to the rat and said:
“Rat, Rat, what a mighty nibbler you are!”
“What use is that?” said the rat, “When I can be caught by a cat?”
The fly went to the cat and said:
“Cat, Cat, what a mighty catcher you are!”
“What use is that?” said the cat, “When I am no match for a beating stick?”
So the fly flew towards the stick and said:
“Stick, Stick, how mighty is the pain you inflict!”
“What use is that?” said the stick, “When fire can burn me like a wick?”
So the fly hovered over the fire and said:
“Fire, Fire, how mighty is your heat!”
“What use is that?” said the fire, “When water can drench me in one beat!”
So the fly went to the river and said:
“Water, Water, how mighty is your drenching!”
“What use is that?” said the water, “When a bull can swallow me, his thirst quenching.”
So the fly landed on the bull and said:
“Bull, Bull, how mighty is your thirst!”
“What use is that?” said the bull, “When a knife may cut me first.”
So the fly went to the knife and said:
“Knife, Knife, how mighty is your edge!”
“What use is that?” said the knife, “When the blacksmith can hammer me with his sledge.”
So the fly went to the blacksmith and said:
“Blacksmith, Blacksmith, how mighty is your hammer!”
“What use is that?” said the blacksmith, “When death can take me away forever.”
So the fly addressed death and said:
“Death, Death, how mighty is your taking!”
But there was silence. No one replied.
PEARLS ON A BRANCH
There was or there was not
In olden days that time has lost…
O you who like stories and talk
No story can be pleasing and beautiful,
Without invoking the Almighty, the Merciful.
THERE WAS A KING – there is no sovereign but God – and this king had a daughter. She was his only child and he liked to please her. So when the month for the pilgrimage to Mecca drew near, the king asked his daughter:
“Tell me what do you want me to bring you from the Hajj?” She said:
“I want you to travel in safety and come home safely.” Whenever he saw her he said:
“Speak, child, what do you want me to bring you from the Hajj?”
And her answer always was:
“Your health and safety are all I want, Father.”
Her nurse began to scold her:
“What is the matter with you? Ask for something you wish for! Tell him, ‘I want Pearls on a Branch.’”
The girl wrote the nurse’s words on piece of paper, put the paper in a box, and gave the box to her father so he wouldn’t forget her request. The King kissed her goodbye and, taking his vizier with him, he set out on the Hajj.
When the two men had completed the rituals of the pilgrimage and were ready for the return home, their camels would not move but remained parked on their knees as if frozen in place. The men thought:
“Maybe the camels are thirsty and that is why they won’t budge.”
The animals were watered but they continued on their knees. The vizier said:
“Is there some errand that you have forgotten, your Majesty? Maybe that is why the camels are unwilling to travel.”
When he heard this, the King remembered his daughter’s request. He retraced his steps to buy his daughter’s gift. At the first store he came to he asked:
“Do you have pearls on a branch?”
“Ask my neighbor,” said the storekeeper.
He asked the neighbor and the neighbor said:
“Ask my neighbor.”
So from store to store and neighbor to neighbor he went, asking the same question and receiving the same answer. The king was puzzled. There was an old man sitting by the side of the road and to him he recounted all that had happened and asked:
“What am I to do? My daughter is an only child! The camels won’t move! Where can I buy pearls on a branch?”
The old man said:
“Pearls on a branch cannot be bought or sold! But may I show you how to get there? If I point to the place with my hand it will be cut off. If I signal with my eye it will be torn out. If we talk about it m
y tongue will be cut off.”
“So what can we do?” asked the king.
The old man said:
“Buy me a water jar. I will walk ahead and you and your friend will follow me. When I reach the right gate I’ll stumble and the jar will break. That is where you will find pearls on a branch.”
The King bought the jar and he and the vizier walked behind the old man until he fell and the jar broke at the gate of a magnificent palace. The king and the vizier entered the gardens and knocked at the door. A serving man opened and the king said,
“I have come looking for pearls on a branch.”
The servant left them and returned with a good-looking young man, who asked the king what he wanted. The king told him about his daughter’s wish, explaining what had happened each time he asked where he might buy pearls on a branch. He handed his daughter’s box to the young man. Now this handsome youth was the owner of the palace and a king in his own right. He opened the box and saw that his name was written on the paper inside. But he did not reveal to the king or the vizier that he himself was Pearls on a Branch, Lulu Bighsunu. Instead, he asked the king,
“What is your daughter called?”
“Her name is Husun Kamil, Loveliness Perfected.”
“Is your daughter beautiful?” asked the youth and the father replied,
“She is loveliness perfected.”
The young king, who owned the palace, ordered seven veiled girls, their faces completely covered, to be brought to him. He began to lift the veils, one by one, and as he uncovered the first beautiful face he asked:
“Is your daughter as beautiful as this?”
“No, she is more beautiful,” the father answered.
The young man unveiled a second and a third face until he had shown all seven girls. The father repeated his answer each time: that his daughter was more beautiful, until he had seen all seven girls. Then the youth gave back the box to his guest after writing a note, which he placed inside. The father took the box and rejoined the pilgrim caravan with his camels that now were standing, and willing to move.
On the journey home the king asked the vizier:
“Tell me, my vizier, what do you think is in this box that the youth gave back to me?”
“Guessing will not reveal its contents, your Majesty,” said the vizier.
“Then we will have to open it,” said the king.
The king opened the box. He was expecting to find a gift for his only daughter. Instead there was a piece of paper and written on it:
Husun Kamil, Loveliness Perfected, you may drive
a nail through your heart
Lulu Bighsunu, Pearls on a Branch, will not be
coming to sit at your hearth.
In a flash the king understood and realized that the handsome youth himself was Pearls on a Branch. That was his name. Now he saw what his daughter was after and muttered to himself:
“She brazenly sent me to bring her a bridegroom! She wanted me to lead him to her with my own hand!”
He raged at the impropriety and his anger was terrible. He sent a messenger to his kingdom with the order that his daughter was to be locked up immediately in the palace of isolation. He did not wish to see her face on his return.
The messenger arrived with the king’s instructions and both mother and daughter were confused. They tried to understand what was wrong but could not guess. The news spread throughout the kingdom. It was the talk on every tongue: “The King has locked up Husun Kamil, his only daughter.”
Finally the king returned with his vizier and the people crowded round to congratulate him on completing the Hajj and on his safe return. He handed out right and left, the usual gifts of dates and henna and sandalwood and incense.
When all the well-wishers had departed, the king’s wife asked:
“What is troubling you, dear husband? How can you lock up your only daughter for no good reason? You brought presents for everyone but not one gift for her?”
“Here is her present,” said the king, “I will not hand it to her myself!” In the heat of his fury, he threw the box on the ground. He told his wife that he was on his way to order the executioner to cut off his daughter’s head. Crazed with terror, she begged him to explain the reason for his anger. He reported what had happened to him on his journey and that Pearls on a Branch was the name of a young man whom their daughter wanted as her bridegroom. His wife made light of the cause for his agitation and persuaded him not to harm the girl. Then she took the box and went to Husun Kamil and repeated all that she had heard. The girl was astonished and thought:
“How can this make sense? Would I ever ask my father to bring me a bridegroom and lead him to me with his own hand?”
Then she opened her present and saw the message inside the box. So what her father had said was true! She read aloud:
Husun Kamil, Loveliness Perfected, you may
drive a nail through your heart
Lulu Bighsunu, Pearls on a Branch, will not be
coming to sit by your hearth.
“How dare he write such words!” she said and decided that she had to respond, she had to provoke him in return. She told her mother:
“I can’t sit idly here. I have to go.”
Her mother tried to talk her into staying, telling her to listen and calm down.
“No! I want to leave right away!” the girl said again.
The mother insisted “No!” and the daughter insisted, “Yes!” In the end the girl said that she was leaving right away but promised to return. Her mother found comfort in the promise.
So Husun Kamil got ready: she picked out a set of her father’s clothes and packed a saddlebag filled with money, then mounted her horse and rode off to find Lulu Bighsunu. It was a long journey before she reached his city. There she saw an old woman and asked whether she might lodge with her. The old woman took her in. Husun Kamil lived in her house and cared for the horse as well. Next she asked the old woman where the slave market was and where the palace of King Lulu Bighsunu was. She stained her face to darken it and went to the slave market and told the merchant there that she wanted to be sold to the palace as a serving girl.
“You may keep for yourself whatever price I bring,” she said.
The merchant took her to the palace and offered her to Lulu Bighsunu’s sister:
“God willing, you will be lucky with this new girl,” he said.
“This one is better looking than any of the girls you have brought me so far!” said the sister and led Husun Kamil to join the other servants.
It was the custom in that palace that every night a different serving girl carried supper up to the king. That evening, because she was new, Husun Kamil was chosen for the task. With the supper tray in her hands she entered Lulu Bighsunu’s chamber. He saw her standing in the doorway and every bone in his body melted. He told the girl to sit at the table and dine with him.
“Come sit and share my supper,” he said.
She said:
“It is neither proper nor permitted for servants to eat at table with their masters.”
He asked her to sit by his side at least. So she sat down. He chatted with her for a while then invited her to stay so they could play a game of chess after he had eaten. She agreed on one condition:
“Whoever of us wins will be allowed to tie the hands of the loser. What do you say?”
The king agreed, thinking to amuse himself. They played. She won. She tied his hands together and he spent the night like that, falling asleep with his hands cuffed.
The next evening he sent word that he wanted Husun Kamil to be the serving girl to bring him his supper. So she carried up the tray and sat with him and did as he asked. He wanted her to peel him an apple, which she did. But when she halved it she placed it on the palm of his hand and cut his skin as well as the apple with the knife. She begged forgiveness and quickly bound the wound with her kerchief.
He spent the night like that, falling asleep with the bandage around his han
d. As for Husun Kamil, she fled to the old woman’s house under cover of darkness, saddled her horse, and rode back to her own country.
Next morning, Lulu Bighsunu woke up to find Husun Kamil gone. He searched for her high and low, asking after her everywhere he went, but she was nowhere to be found. He breathed in her scent on the kerchief round his hand and kissed the bandage. As he did so, he heard the crackle of paper in the folded cloth. When he loosened the handkerchief and spread it out there was a letter hidden inside. He read:
Lulu Bighsunu will not be coming to sit at
Husun Kamil’s hearth?
The first night with her belt she tied your hands
And let you sleep as if on firebrands.
The second night she cut your palm and
made it bleed
You’ll never be the one that Husun Kamil needs.
“Oh, what a trick!” he thought to himself, “But now I will show her!”
He went to the jeweler who worked in gold and commissioned him to sculpt a jeweled hen with all her chicks around her. He waited for the piece to be finished, then saddled up for travel and rode to Husun Kamil’s country, taking with him the golden hen. Upon arriving in Husun Kamil’s city, he made inquiries and learned that Husun Kamil was prisoner in the palace of isolation, living apart with only one woman, her nurse, to serve her.
Next morning, just as the sun was rising, Lulu Bighsunu stood below Husun Kamil’s window, disguised as a peddler. He set down the jeweled hen where it would catch the sunlight.
“A jeweled hen, with all her chicks, for sale!” he called, “A hen of solid gold for sale!”
Husun Kamil’s nurse looked out and saw something glittering in the sun.
“Mistress, come quickly! Come take a look!” she said.
The girl came running and saw the sunlight glancing off the gold. When the peddler turned a key, the jeweled hen moved, pecking and clucking. She looked again and recognized Lulu Bigshunu. She told the nurse:
“Ask how much he wants for his hen.”
“How much does your hen cost?” asked the nurse.
“It cannot be bought for silver or for gold! My price is one night in your mistress’s chamber,” said the peddler.
“What? May fevers boil and burn you! How dare you even think about my mistress for a night?”
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