And Scheherazade noticed that dawn was approaching, and she stopped telling her story. When the next night arrived, however, she received the king’s permission to continue her tale and said,
After striking the slave, I had thought that I had slain him, for he uttered a loud hissing groan, but I had only cut the skin and flesh of the gullet and two arteries! When these sounds awoke my wife, I sheathed the sword and rushed to the city. Then I entered the palace, lay down on my bed, and slept until morning. Later, when my wife aroused me, I saw that she had cut off her hair and had put on mourning garments.
“Oh, son of my uncle,” she said, “don’t blame me for what I’m doing. I have just learned that my mother is dead, and my father has been killed in a holy war. Moreover, one of my brothers has lost his life from a snake sting, and another has died by falling off a cliff. There is nothing I can or should do but weep and lament.”
When I heard her words, I held back my reproaches and only said, “Do what you think best. I certainly will not hinder you.”
So she continued to grieve and mourn for one whole year, and when the full year had passed, she said to me, “I’d like to build a tomb with a cupola in your palace that I will set aside only for my mourning, and I’ll call it the House of Lamentations.”
“Do what you think best,” I said again.
Then she built for herself a cenotaph in which she could mourn, and she also placed a dome on top of it under which there was a tomb like a Santon’s sepulcher. It was to this place that she carried the slave and housed him, but he was exceedingly weak because of his wound and unable to make love to her. He could only drink wine, and from the day of his injury he could not speak a word, but he continued to live because his appointed hour for death had not yet arrived. Every day, morning and evening, my wife went to him and wept over him. She gave him wine and strong soups and kept doing this for one more year. I tolerated all this patiently and paid no heed to her. However, one day I went into her chamber without her noticing it, and I found her weeping, slapping her face, and crying, “Why are you so absent, my heart’s delight? Speak to me, my life. Talk with me, my love!”
When she had stopped weeping, I said to her, “Cousin, let this mourning suffice, for there’s nothing to gain from pouring forth tears!”
“Don’t try to stop me,” she answered, “or I’ll do something violent to myself!”
So I kept my peace and let her go her own way. Indeed, she continued to indulge her affliction for yet another year. At the end of the third year I became tired of all this mourning, and one day, when I was annoyed and angry because of some frustrating matter, I happened to enter the cenotaph and heard her say, “Oh my lord, I never hear you say a single word to me! Why don’t you answer me?”
All this caused me to become enraged, and I cried out, “That’s enough! How long is this sorrow to last?”
When she heard my words, she sprang to her feet crying, “Shame on you, you cur! This is all your fault! You have wounded my heart’s darling and have caused me a great deal of woe. Not only that, you’ve wasted his youth so that he has had to lay in bed these past three years more dead than alive!”
In my wrath I cried, “Oh you dirtiest of harlots and filthiest of whores, futtered by Negro slaves hired to have a go at you! Yes, indeed it was I who did this good deed,” and snatching my sword, I drew it and tried to cut her down.
But she laughed at my words and ridiculed me by saying, “To heel, hound that you are! Alas for the past that cannot return to life, nor is it possible to bring the dead back to life. But Allah has indeed placed the person in my hands who did the deed that burns my heart with a fire which doesn’t die and a flame which cannot be quenched!” Then she stood up, and pronouncing some unintelligible words, she said, “By virtue of my magic powers, you are to become half stone and half man!”
As a result, oh king, I have become what you see before you, unable to rise or to sit, neither dead nor alive. Moreover, she enchanted the city with all its streets and yards, and she used her magic to turn the four islands into four mountains around the lake about which you’ve been asking me. And the citizens, who were of four different faiths, Moslem, Nazarene, Jew, and Magian, she transformed into fish. The Moslems are the white, the Magians red, the Christians blue, and the Jews yellow. And every day she tortures me and gives me a hundred lashes, each of which draws floods of blood and cuts the skin of my shoulders to strips. Finally, she covers my upper half with a haircloth and throws these robes over them.
Upon saying all this, the young man began shedding tears, and the sultan turned toward him and said, “Prince, although you’ve relieved me of one concern, you’ve added another. Tell me, my friend, where is she? Where is the mausoleum in which the wounded slave is lying?”
“The slave is lying under that dome over there,” the young man said, “and she’s sitting in the chamber across from that door. Every day at sunrise, she comes to me and strips me. Then she gives me a hundred lashes with the leather whip. I weep and shriek, but there is no power in my legs to get away from her. After she finishes tormenting me, she visits the slave and brings him wine and boiled meat. You can see for yourself, she’ll be here tomorrow early in the morning.”
“By Allah,” the king declared, “I’m going to do you a favor, young man, and the world will take note of it. It will be such a bold deed that it will be chronicled long after I am dead.”
Then the king sat down by the side of the young prince and talked till nightfall, when he lay down and fell asleep. But as soon as dawn approached, he arose, put on his shirt, drew out his sword, and rushed to the place where the slave was lying. He followed the light of the candles and lamps and the smell of the incenses and unguents that led him to the slave. With one stroke of his sword he killed him on the spot, after which he carried him out and threw him into a well that was in the palace. Soon thereafter he returned to the spot where the slave had lain and put on his garments. Finally, he lay down with his sword close by his side. After an hour or so the accursed witch arrived and went first to her husband, whom she stripped and flogged cruelly with a whip, while he cried out, “Ah! That’s enough! Take pity on me, cousin!”
But she replied, “Did you take pity on me and spare the life of my true love, on whom I doted?” Then she drew the haircloth over his raw and bleeding skin and threw the robe over his entire body and went to the slave with a goblet of wine and a bowl of meat broth in her hands. She entered the dome weeping and wailing, “Oh my lord, say something to me! Oh my master, talk awhile with me!”
The king lowered his voice and, twisting his tongue, spoke the way that blackamoors speak. “Hear now, hear now, only Allah is all powerful and all glorious!”
Now when she heard these words, she shouted for joy and fainted. Upon recovering her senses, she asked, “My lord, can it be true that you’ve regained the power of speech?”
“You curse of my soul,” the king replied in a small and faint voice, “do you deserve my talking to you?”
“Why shouldn’t you?” she asked.
“Because you torment your husband the entire day,” he responded, “and he keeps calling on heaven for aid so that I can’t sleep from morning until evening. And he prays and curses us so much that I’m greatly disturbed. If things were different, I would have regained my health long ago, and it is this situation that prevents me from answering you.”
“With your permission,” she said, “I’ll release him from the spell.”
“Release him, and let’s have some rest,” the king declared.
“As you wish,” the woman said, and she went to the palace, where she took a metal bowl, filled it with water, and said certain words over it that made the contents bubble and boil. Then she sprinkled some of the water over her husband, saying, “By virtue of the dread words that I have spoken, return to the form that is your own.”
Suddenly, the young man shook and trembled, and finally he rose to his feet, and rejoicing at his salvation, he cr
ied aloud, “I testify that there is no god but the God, and in truth, Mohammed is His Apostle, whom Allah blesses and keeps.”
Then she said to him, “Go away and never return. If you do, I’ll surely slay you!”
So he departed, and she returned to the dome and said, “My lord, come out so I can look at you and your godliness!”
The king replied in faint low words, “Why? What have you accomplished? You’ve gotten rid of the branch but not the root of my troubles!”
“Oh my darling,” she asked, “what is the root?”
“Shame on you, curse of my soul!” he answered. “The people of this city and of the four islands lift their head every night in the lake in which you have turned them to fish, and they cry to heaven and call down its anger on me and you. And this is the reason why my body cannot return to health. Go at once and set them free. Then come to me and take my hand and raise me up, for I’ve already regained a little strength.”
When she heard the king’s words, still supposing him to be the slave, she cried out in joy, “Oh my master, your every word is my command!” So she sprang to her feet full of joy and ran down to the lake, where she took some of its water in the palm of her hand.
* * *
And Scheherazade noticed that dawn was approaching, and she stopped telling her story. When the next night arrived, however, she received the king’s permission to continue, and she said,
Now the sorceress took the lake water and said some unintelligible words over it. Suddenly the fish lifted their heads and stood up like men. The spell on the people of the city had been removed. What was the lake became once again a crowded capital: the bazaars were thronged with folk who bought and sold; everyone became busy once again and began doing what they had normally done; and the four mountains became islands as they were before. Then the wicked sorceress returned to the king (still thinking he was the Negro) and said to him, “Oh my love, give me your honored hands so that I can help you stand up.”
“Come nearer to me,” said the king in a faint tone.
When she came close enough to embrace him, he grabbed his sword and struck her through the breast so that the point showed gleaming through her back. Then he struck her a second time and cut her in two, casting her to the ground in two halves. After doing this, he departed and found the young man, now freed from the spell, awaiting him. The king told him about his release, and the prince kissed his hand with abundant thanks.
“Do you want to continue to dwell in this city or come with me to my capital?” the king asked.
“Your majesty, do you know how far it is between your country and this city?”
“Two and a half days,” said the king.
But the other replied, “You must be dreaming, my lord! It would take a good year for a sturdy walker to reach your country. You wouldn’t have made it here in two and a half days if it weren’t for the fact that my city had been enchanted. And now, my king, I shall never part from you. No, not even for the twinkling of an eye.”
The king rejoiced at his words and said, “Thanks be to Allah, who has brought us together. From this hour on, you are my son and my only son, for until now I have not been blessed with offspring.”
Thereupon they embraced and rejoiced. When they returned to the prince’s palace, the prince informed his lords and nobles that he was about to visit holy places as a pilgrim, and he ordered them to get everything ready for the occasion. The preparations lasted ten days, after which time he set out with the sultan, whose heart yearned for his city, which he had not seen for a good year. They journeyed with an escort of mamelukes carrying all sorts of precious gifts and rare items, and it took them twelve months before they approached the sultan’s capital. Messengers were sent in advance to announce their arrival, and the vizier and the entire army came out with great joy to meet their king, for they had given up hope of ever seeing him again. The troops kissed the ground before him and were glad to see him safe and sound. After he entered his palace and took his seat upon his throne and the minister came before him, the king told him what had happened to the young prince, and the vizier congratulated him on his narrow escape. After restoring order throughout the land, the king gave many generous gifts to his people and said to the vizier, “Bring me the fisherman who gave us the fish!”
So he sent for the fisherman, who had actually been responsible for bringing about the liberation of the prince’s city, and when he came to the palace, the sultan bestowed on him a robe of honor, and asked him how he was doing and whether he had children. The fisherman told him that he had two daughters and a son. So the king sent for them and took one daughter for his wife and gave the other to the young prince, while he made the son his head treasurer. Furthermore, he appointed the vizier to be sultan of the city in the Black Islands that had once belonged to the young prince and sent him there with an escort of fifty armed slaves together with robes of honor for all the lords and nobles of that city. The vizier kissed his hands and went on his way, while the sultan and the prince dwelled at home in all the solace and the delight of life. Finally, the fisherman became the richest man of his age, and his daughters lived with the kings until death brought an end to their lives.
No sooner had Scheherazade concluded her tale than she said, “And yet, oh king, this tale is no more wondrous than the remarkable story of the ebony horse.”
The Ebony Horse
Once upon a time there was a great and powerful king of Persia named Sabur, whose wealth and wisdom surpassed all other monarchs in his day and age. Moreover, he was generous, kind, and beneficent. He comforted those whose spirits were broken, and he treated those who fled to him for refuge with honor. He loved the poor and was hospitable to strangers, and he always sought to defend the oppressed against their oppressors.
King Sabur had three daughters as beautiful as flower gardens in full bloom and a son as handsome as the moon. And it was his custom to celebrate two holidays during the year, the Nau-Roz or New Year, and Mihgan or the Autumnal Equinox. On both occasions he threw open his palace, gave alms to the people, made proclamations of safety and security, and promoted his chamberlains and viceroys. The people of his realm came to him, saluted him, and celebrated these holy days with joy, and they also brought him gifts, servants, and eunuchs.
Now, King Sabur loved science and geometry, and on one holiday, as he sat on his throne, three wise men entered his palace and approached him. They were cunning inventors and masters of all sorts of crafts. Indeed, they could make things so unusual and rare that it was impossible to discern how they were invented. These men were versed in the knowledge of the occult and knew all about the mysteries of the world. Each one was from a different country and spoke a foreign language. The first was a Hindi or Indian, the second a Roumi or Greek, and the third a Farsi or Persian.
When the Indian stepped forward, he prostrated himself before the king, wished him a joyous holiday, and placed before him a gift befitting his dignity: it was a man of gold set with precious gems and jewels and holding a golden trumpet in his hand.
When Sabur saw this, he said, “Tell me, sage, what can this figure do?”
And the Indian answered, “My lord, if this figure is placed at the gate of your city, he will be a most powerful protector, for whenever an enemy tries to enter, the figure will blow this trumpet against him, and he will be seized with palsy and drop down dead.”
The king was extremely astonished by this gift and declared, “By Allah, if you are telling the truth, I’ll grant you anything you wish or desire.”
Then the Greek stepped forward, and after prostrating himself before the king, he gave him a silver basin with a golden peacock and twenty-four golden chicks in the middle of it. Sabur looked at the basin and then inquired, “Tell me, sage, what can this peacock do?”
“My lord,” he answered, “whenever an hour of the day or night elapses, it pecks one of its young, cries out, and flaps its wings every hour on the hour. Then, when the end of the mouth arrives, it wi
ll open its mouth, and you will see the crescent inside it.”
And the king said, “If you’re telling the truth, I’ll grant anything you wish or desire.”
Then the Persian sage stepped forward, and after prostrating himself before the king, he presented him with a horse made of the darkest ebony wood with a gold and jeweled inlay and with saddle, stirrups, and bridle suitable for the majesty of the king. When Sabur saw the horse, he was extremely astounded and admired the beauty of its form and style. So he asked, “What can this wooden horse do? Tell me its virtue and whether it can move.”
“My lord,” the Persian answered, “if one mounts this horse, it will carry him wherever he wants. It can ride through the air and cover the space of a year in a single day.”
The king was amazed by these wonders, especially since they came all on the same day, and he turned to the Persian sage and said, “By Allah, if you are telling the truth, I’ll certainly grant you whatever you desire.”
Then he entertained the sages for three days so he could try out their gifts. During that time each one demonstrated what his invention could do: the man of gold blew his trumpet; the peacock pecked its chicks; and the Persian sage mounted the ebony horse, which soared with him high in the air and descended again. When King Sabur saw all this, he was amazed and overcome with joy. Then he said to the three sages, “I’m now convinced of the truth of your words, and it behooves me to keep my promise. So, you may now ask for whatever you want, and I shall grant your wishes.”
Well, news about the beauty of the king’s three daughters had reached these sages, and thus they asked, “If the king is content with us and our gifts and allows us to make a request, we beg that he give us his three daughters in marriage so that we may become his sons-in-law.”
Arabian Nights Page 8