Tears have wounded my eyes, and still more follow them.
When I weep, I weep for the sorrow of my love;
For the lover, parting is something hard to bear.
When she had finished her poem she wiped away her tears and went up to the palace. She entered the harem, where she set aside separate rooms for the slave girls and concubines, assigning them regular payments and allowances. She claimed that she wanted to have her own quarters where she could devote herself to the worship of God. She began fasting and praying to such an extent that the emirs remarked on her great piety, and the only servants whom she allowed to attend on her were two young eunuchs.
She sat on the royal throne for a year without hearing any news of her master or finding any trace of him. In her anxiety she summoned the viziers and the chamberlains and told them to fetch architects and builders who were to construct an arena for her beneath the palace walls, one parasang in length by one in breadth. They followed her specifications and completed this very quickly. When it was finished, she went down to it and had a huge dome placed there, in which the chairs of the emirs were arranged in ranks. She then ordered tables to be set out, laden with splendid foods of all kinds, and when her orders had been carried out, she told the state officials to eat, which they did. ‘At the start of each new month,’ she told the emirs, ‘I want you to repeat this process and to have it proclaimed throughout the city that no one is to open his shop but that everyone is to come here and eat from the king’s table, while anyone who disobeys is to be hanged over the door of his house.’
On the first day of the next month the emirs followed her orders, and the custom continued to be observed until it came to the first day of the first month of the second year. Zumurrud came down to the arena and a proclamation was made to the people that anyone who opened his shop, store or house would be hanged over his own door and that they should all come to eat from the king’s table. When the announcement had been made, the tables were set out and the people came in droves, and she ordered them to sit down and to eat until they had had their fill of the various foods that were there. They did what she had told them, while she herself sat watching from her royal throne. Each of those sitting there was saying to himself: ‘I am the one that the king is looking at.’ When they had started on the meal, the emirs encouraged them to eat up without embarrassment, as this is what the king wanted. When they had had enough they left, calling down blessings on the king and saying to each other: ‘In all our lives we have never seen a sultan who loved the poor as much as this one.’
While they were praying God to grant her a long life, she herself went back to her palace…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and twentieth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Zumurrud went back to her palace, glad at what she had arranged and saying to herself: ‘If it is the will of Almighty God, this may help me find out something about my master, ‘Ali Shar.’ On the first day of the second month, following her custom, she had the tables set out and came down herself to sit on her throne, telling the people to sit down and eat. While she was at the head of the tables, with crowds upon crowds of people taking their places, one after the other, her eye fell on Barsum the Christian, the man who had bought the curtain from her master. She recognized him and said: ‘This is the first sign of a happy ending and the achievement of my wishes.’
Barsum came forward and took his place with the others in order to eat. He caught sight of a dish of rice sweetened with sprinkled sugar and, as it was at a distance from him, he pushed his way through to it before stretching out his hand, taking it and putting it down in front of him. A man sitting beside him said: ‘Why don’t you eat what is in front of you? This is shameful. How can you reach out to take something so far away from you? Aren’t you ashamed?’ Barsum insisted that he would only eat from that dish and the man said: ‘Eat then, but I hope you find no enjoyment in it.’ ‘Let him eat from it,’ said a hashish addict, ‘so that I can have some myself.’ ‘Vilest of addicts,’ the man replied, ‘this is no food for you but for the emirs. Leave it alone so that it can be given back to those who are supposed to eat it.’ Barsum would not listen. He seized a morsel and put it in his mouth, but as he was about to take another, Zumurrud, who had been watching him, shouted to her soldiers: ‘Bring me the man who has the sweet rice dish in front of him! Don’t let him eat what he is holding but throw it out of his hand.’
Four troopers went up to Barsum, threw away the food that he was clutching and dragged him face downwards until they had brought him in front of Zumurrud. People stopped eating and said to one another: ‘By God, this fellow has done wrong by not eating the food that was there for him and his likes.’ ‘I was happy enough with the porridge in front of me,’ claimed another and the hashish addict said: ‘Praise be to God, Who stopped me from taking anything from the plate of sweetened rice. After that man had put it down in front of himself I was waiting for him to enjoy it and then take some of it myself, but he was dragged off, as we saw.’ ‘Wait until we see what happens to him,’ the others advised.
When Barsum was taken before Zumurrud, she said: ‘What is your name, blue eyes, you miserable fellow, and why have you come to our country?’ Barsum was wearing a white turban and he concealed his real name, saying: ‘O king, my name is ‘Ali. I am a weaver by profession and I am here to trade.’ ‘Bring me the divination table and a brass pen,’ said Zumurrud. These were fetched instantly and she took them, shook the sand over the table and used the pen to draw the shape of a monkey. She then looked up and, after studying Barsum for some time, she said: ‘Dog, how dare you lie to kings? Are you not a Christian named Barsum, coming here to search for something that you need? Tell me the truth or else, by the glory of God’s divinity, I shall cut off your head.’ Barsum stammered and the emirs and the others who were there said: ‘This king is a master of geomancy. Glory be to God, Who gave him this gift!’
Zumurrud then shouted at Barsum: ‘Tell me the truth or else I shall have you killed!’ ‘Mercy, king of the age,’ Barsum pleaded. ‘You have divined correctly, for this one is indeed a Christian.’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and twenty-first night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Barsum said: ‘You have divined correctly, for this one is indeed a Christian.’ All those present, emirs and others, were astonished at the accuracy of Zumurrud’s divination. ‘This king,’ they exclaimed, ‘is an astrologer unmatched in this world!’ She then ordered Barsum to be flayed and his skin stuffed with straw and hung up over the gate to the arena. A pit was to be dug outside the city in which his flesh and bones were to be burned, with dirt and filth being thrown over them. She was obeyed and all her orders were carried out. The people said: ‘The man got what he deserved, and what an unlucky mouthful it was that he took!’ One of them said: ‘This one will divorce his wife if ever again in his life he eats sweetened rice,’ while the hashish addict exclaimed: ‘Praise be to God, Who preserved me from this man’s fate by keeping me from eating that rice.’ They all left, thinking it taboo to take Barsum’s place by the rice dish.
In the third month the tables were set out as usual and filled with dishes, with Zumurrud sitting on her throne and the soldiers, now afraid of her severity, in their customary posts. The townsfolk came in as normal and circled around the food. They looked for the plate of rice and one of them said to another: ‘Hajji Khalaf.’ ‘Here I am, Hajji Khalid,’ said the other. ‘Steer clear of the sweetened rice dish,’ said Khalid, ‘and take care not to eat any of it, for if you do you will be hanged.’ They then sat down around the table to eat, and while they were at their meal Zumurrud, who had taken her place there, turned to look at a man who was hurrying in from the arena gate. Studying him closely, she made the discovery that he was Jawan the Kurd, the k
iller of the soldier.
The reason why Jawan had come there was that, after leaving his mother, he had gone off to tell his companions: ‘I made a good haul yesterday. I killed a soldier and took his horse, and in the night I got a pair of saddlebags filled with gold, together with a girl who is worth even more than the gold. All this I left with my mother in the cave.’ His companions were delighted and, as evening came, they set off for the cave. Jawan went in ahead as they followed, intending to fetch them the money that he had talked about, but he found the place bare. He asked his mother what had happened and she told him the whole story, leaving him to bite his hands in regret. ‘By God,’ he swore, ‘I’ll hunt around for that whore and take her from wherever she may be, even if she hides in the shell of a pistachio nut, and then I shall have my revenge on her.’
He left on his search and went round place after place until he arrived at Zumurrud’s city. When he entered, he found no man there and so he questioned some of the women who were looking out of their windows. They told him that on the first of each month the king would give a banquet to which the people would go to be fed, and they showed him the way to the arena, where it was laid out. He hurried there but could find no empty seat except by the dish of rice. As this was in front of him, he stretched out his hand towards it, but the people shouted at him: ‘Brother, what do you mean to do?’ ‘I want to eat my fill from this dish,’ he told them. ‘If you do,’ said one of them, ‘you will end up hanged.’ ‘Shut up,’ he said, ‘and don’t mention such a thing.’ Then, stretching out his hand, he pulled the dish towards him.
The hashish addict, mentioned earlier, was sitting beside him and when he saw what he had done, he fled from his place, with the effects of the drug clearing from his head, and sat down a long way away, exclaiming: ‘There is nothing I want in that dish!’ The hand that Jawan put out was like a crow’s foot, but after he had plunged it into the dish and drawn it out again it looked like a camel’s hoof.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and twenty-second night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the hand that Jawan took out from the dish was like a camel’s hoof. He turned the morsel he was holding round and round in his hand until it was like a large orange and then he quickly threw it into his mouth, from where it went down his gullet with a noise like thunder. Where it had been one could see the bottom of the plate. ‘Praise be to God for not making me into food and putting me in front of you!’ exclaimed a man sitting beside him. ‘You’ve swallowed down the whole plate with a single gulp.’ ‘Let him eat,’ said the hashish addict, ‘for I seem to see in him the image of a hanged man.’ Then he turned to Jawan and said: ‘Eat, but may God not allow you to enjoy it.’
Jawan stretched out for a second mouthful, but as he was about to turn it round in his hand as he had done with the first, Zumurrud called out to some of her soldiers, telling them: ‘Bring me that man quickly and don’t let him eat what he is holding.’ The men ran up to him as he was bending over the dish, seized him and took him to stand in front of Zumurrud. The others took malicious pleasure from this and told each other: ‘He deserves this. We warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. Whoever sits in this seat is sure to be killed, and the rice brings bad luck on everyone who eats it.’
Zumurrud asked Jawan: ‘What is your name and your profession and why have you come to our city?’ ‘My lord the sultan,’ Jawan answered, ‘my name is ‘Uthman. I am a gardener and the reason I have come here is that I am going round searching for something I have lost.’ ‘Bring me the divination table,’ said Zumurrud, and she then took a pen and shook the sand on the table. After studying it for a while, she raised her head and said: ‘Damn you, you foul creature. How dare you lie to kings? This sand tells me that your name is Jawan the Kurd and that you are a professional thief. You seize people’s goods unlawfully and you take lives that God only allows to be taken when there is just cause.’ Then she shouted at him: ‘Tell me the truth about yourself, pig, or else I shall cut off your head!’
When Jawan heard what she had to say he turned pale and showed his teeth, but thinking that if he told the truth he might escape, he said: ‘You are right, O king, but from now on I repent at your hands and return to Almighty God.’ Zumurrud said: ‘It is not lawful for me to leave an evil-doer in the path of Muslims.’ Then she told her attendants: ‘Take him, flay him and then deal with him as you dealt last month with his fellow liar.’ They did as they were told and when the hashish addict saw Jawan being arrested by the soldiers, he turned his back on the plate of rice and said: ‘I must not turn my face towards you.’ The townsfolk now finished eating, dispersed and went home, while Zumurrud went to her palace and allowed her mamluks to leave.
At the start of the next month the people came to the arena as usual and when the food had been brought, they sat waiting for permission to begin. Zumurrud came in, took her seat and, as she looked at them, she found to her surprise that no one was sitting opposite the rice, although there was space enough there for four. As she was looking round, she happened to turn and see a man rushing in through the gate. He hurried on until he reached the table where he found no place free except by the dish of rice. When he sat down, Zumurrud, looking closely at him, discovered that this was the damned Christian who called himself Rashid al-Din, and she said to herself: ‘What a blessed banquet this is, as this unbeliever has been caught in its toils.’
The reason for Rashid al-Din’s presence was a strange one. When he had come back from his journey…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and twenty-third night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the man calling himself Rashid al-Din had come back from his journey, his household had told him that Zumurrud was missing, together with the saddlebags containing the gold. On hearing the news, he tore his clothes, slapped his face and pulled hairs from his beard. He sent his brother, Barsum, to look for her throughout the lands, but when news was slow to come, he went out to search both for his brother and for the girl. Fate brought him to her city, which he entered on the first day of the month. He walked through the streets but found them empty and the shops shut. He saw women at their windows and asked about this. They told him that on the first of each month the king would give a banquet for all the townspeople and that no one was permitted to sit at home or in his shop. They directed him to the arena and when he got there he found the people crowded around the food, leaving no place free except in front of the dish of sweetened rice. He sat down there and had reached out to take some of it when Zumurrud called out to the soldiers to bring her the man who was sitting by that dish, and, as they had done before, they identified him, seized him and brought him before Zumurrud. ‘Wretch,’ she said, ‘what is your name and your profession and why have you come to our city?’ ‘O king of the age,’ he answered, ‘my name is Rustam and I have no profession as I am a poor dervish.’ ‘Bring me the divination table and a brass pen,’ she said, and when, as before, these had been fetched, she took the pen and drew lines on the sand table. For a time she stared at it and then she lifted her head and looked at him. ‘Dog,’ she said, ‘how dare you lie to kings? Your name is Rashid al-Din the Christian, and your trade consists of setting traps for Muslim girls and seizing them. In outward show you are a Muslim, but secretly you are a Christian. Tell the truth, for if you do not I will cut off your head.’
Rashid al-Din stammered but then said: ‘You have spoken the truth, king of the age.’ She ordered him to be stretched out and beaten with a hundred strokes of the whip on each foot and a thousand strokes on his body, after which he was to be flayed and his skin stuffed with oakum. They were then to dig a pit for him outside the city in which his body was to be burned, with dirt and filth being thrown over it. After these orders had been carried out the people were given permission to eat. When th
ey had finished, they went off on their ways, while Zumurrud went up to her palace and exclaimed: ‘Praise be to God, Who has soothed my heart by allowing me revenge on those who injured me!’ She returned, thanks to the Creator of earth and heaven, and recited these lines:
They held rule and were arrogant in what they did,
But after a time it was as though that rule had never been.
Had they been just, they would have had a just reward,
But through their tyranny Time turned against them with disaster and distress.
Fate spoke to them using its silent tongue:
‘This is your just reward; Time cannot be blamed.’
When she had finished this poem her thoughts turned to her master, ‘Ali Shar, and her tears flooded down, but after that she returned to her senses and said to herself: ‘God has enabled me to revenge myself on my enemies, and it may be that He will favour me with the return of my loved ones.’ She asked His pardon, Great and Glorious as He is…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and twenty-fourth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Zumurrud asked pardon from the Great and Glorious God, saying: ‘It may be that He will show favour to me by reuniting me soon with my beloved ‘Ali Shar, for He has the power to do what He wants; He is kind to His servants and knows their needs.’ She praised Him, asked again for pardon and resigned herself to the blows of fate, knowing for certain that every beginning must have an end. She recited the lines of the poet:
Take life lightly, for all our destiny
Is held within the hands of God.
What He forbids will never come to you;
Nor will that which He orders fail to come.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 2 Page 9