“It was by design,” said Aladdin. “I told the workers to leave it so, as I wished Your Majesty to have the glory of completing this room, and with it the palace.”
The sultan accepted with pleasure and sent for the best goldsmiths and jewelers in the capital.
Aladdin led the sultan into the dining hall. There they were met by the princess, who greeted her father with a happy smile. Two tables heaved under a feast arranged in gold platters. The sultan took his place at the first, along with the princess, Aladdin, and the grand vizier. All the lords of the court sat at the second. The sultan confessed that he had never tasted such delicious fare, and said the same of the wine. Even more impressive were the side tables heavy with vials, bowls, and cups of solid gold, all studded with gems. No less charming were the singers ranged around the room, whose voices mingled in harmony with the music of trumpets, cymbals, and drums that came to them from outside.
As the sultan rose from the table, news came that the jewelers and goldsmiths had arrived. Returning to the hall with twenty-four windows, he pointed out the imperfect one to the craftsmen. “I have called you here to mend this window, and to match it to the perfection of the others. Inspect it, and set to work without delay.”
The jewelers and goldsmiths studied the twenty-three remaining windows with great care. When they had consulted each other, and discussed what each might contribute to the task, they went back to the sultan. The first jeweler spoke.
“Majesty,” he said, “we are all ready to put our skills at your service, but we lack the materials for the task you require: our gemstones are neither precious enough, nor in sufficient quantity, to match this screen to the others.”
“I have all the gems you need,” said the sultan. “Come to my palace and take your pick.”
The sultan sent for his precious stones, and the jewelers took a great many of them, especially those Aladdin had brought. They set to work with them but made little progress, and had to return many times for more. In a month they had not finished half the work. They had used up all the sultan’s gemstones, and even had to draw on the grand vizier’s collection, yet all they had to show for it was a half-completed screen.
Aladdin, knowing that their task was in vain, told them not only to put down their tools, but to undo all their work and carry the jewels back. The work it had taken weeks to do was undone in a few hours. Alone again, Aladdin pulled out the lamp, and commanded the jinni to finish the window.
The craftsmen arrived at the palace, and were ushered into the sultan’s quarters. The first jeweler, presenting the stones they brought back, spoke for them all: “Your Majesty knows how long we have labored on our task. We were well advanced when Aladdin ordered us to stop, and to undo our previous work and return the gemstones we had borrowed.”
The sultan sent for his horse at once and went back to see Aladdin. “I have come in person,” said the sultan, “to ask your reasons for leaving such a rare and gorgeous room unfinished.” Aladdin concealed the true reason, which was that the sultan was not rich enough in gemstones to finish the screen. Still, in order to impress on him that the palace surpassed not only the sultan’s own, but any other on earth, Aladdin answered: “It is true that Your Majesty saw this room unfinished, but I beg you to tell me now if it lacks anything.”
The sultan made for the unfinished window, and, finding it just like the others, he doubted his own eyes. He inspected the windows on either side, then all the others, and when he was convinced that the screen which had cost him so many weeks of labor had been perfected in so short a time, he embraced Aladdin and kissed him between the eyes.
The sultan returned to his palace alone the way he had come. There he found the grand vizier waiting for him. Still in wonder at the miracle he had just seen, he recounted it in terms that left the minister in little doubt that things were not as they seemed, and that Aladdin’s palace was the work of magic, as he had suggested to the sultan almost as soon as the palace appeared. He tried to repeat himself. “Vizier,” interrupted the sultan, “you have made this point before. I see you have not yet recovered from the failure of my daughter’s marriage to your son.”
The grand vizier, not wishing to confront the sultan, let him think as he pleased. Every morning, on waking, the sultan would look out of the window that gave a view of Aladdin’s palace, and returned several times a day to admire it.
Aladdin, meanwhile, did not stay indoors for long. He made sure to be seen by the townspeople at least once a week, either by varying the mosques he attended for prayer, or by calling in on the grand vizier, or by paying the lords of the court, whom he often entertained in his palace, the honor of returning their visit. Every time he went out, he had two servants follow his horse and cast handfuls of gold coins into the crowds as they passed. Not a soul came knocking at his door in need who did not leave satisfied.
As Aladdin went hunting at least once a week, sometimes in the fringes of the city and sometimes farther afield, he extended his charity to the country lanes and villages. His freehanded manner won him the hearts of the people, and it became common to hear them swear on his head. To these qualities he added a sincere devotion to the welfare of his kingdom, which he displayed when a revolt broke out near the border. On hearing that the sultan had raised an army to suppress it, he begged him to let him take its lead. He prevailed, and marched the sultan’s men against the rising, and proved so deft in his campaign that news of the rebels’ defeat soon followed that of his departure for the battlefield. He returned a hero, but remained as gentle and gracious as ever.
New Lamps for Old
It was years into Aladdin’s new life when the magician, far away in North Africa, remembered him. Though certain Aladdin had not left the vault, it occurred to the magician to find out precisely how he had died. Being a skilled geomancer, he took from a cabinet the square box he used in his readings, and, having prepared and leveled the sand, cast the points, and revealed the figures, he found that Aladdin had escaped and had married a princess, with whom he lived in great splendor.
Heat rose to the magician’s face. He knew Aladdin could only have survived by the power of the ring, and wasted no time pondering what to do. Next morning he set off on the Berber horse he had in his stable, and traveled day and night until he reached the capital of the Chinese kingdom in question. He dismounted at a khan, or inn, where he took a room for the night.
The next day, he wished to know before all else what people thought of Aladdin. He wandered the city and stopped at a popular meeting place where people gathered to sip a certain hot drink, familiar to him from his previous visit. A cup of the brew was set before him as soon as he found a seat. He kept an ear out and noticed that talk was of Aladdin’s palace. Draining his cup, he approached one of those speaking, and asked him what it was about this palace that merited such praise.
“Where have you come from?” said the man. “Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin’s palace, the wonder of the world? It is all one talks about on earth since it was built. Go and see it, and judge whether I have told you any more than the truth.”
“Forgive my ignorance,” replied the magician, “where is this wonder you speak of?”
The other man directed him and he set out at once. When he saw the palace, he knew that it had been built by one of the jinn, who alone were capable of such marvels. Enraged, he determined to get hold of the lamp. For this he shut himself in his room and turned again to geomancy, and the figures revealed to him that the lamp was in Aladdin’s palace. He went to see the innkeeper, and, alighting on a perfectly natural pretext for conversation, said that he had just seen Aladdin’s palace, and related all that he had found most striking in it.
“Yet my curiosity will not be satisfied,” he added, “until I meet the master of such a marvelous place.”
“You will have no trouble finding him,” said the innkeeper. “Hardly a day goes by when he does not appear in the city. But he has been gone for three days on a hunt that is said
to last eight.”
The magician waited not a minute longer. He bought a dozen copper lamps, put them in a basket, and took them to the palace. As he approached, he began to call: “New lamps for old!” The children in the square, who thought him mad, ran after him jeering, but he continued to cry: “New lamps for old!” until even Princess Badr al-Budur, who was sitting in the hall with twenty-four windows, heard his voice. She sent a servant to find out what the noise was about.
The handmaiden came back laughing, and the princess scolded her. “Princess,” replied the servant, “who could keep from laughing at the sight of a madman offering new lamps for old ones?” On hearing this, another handmaiden said: “There is an old lamp in that alcove which he can have. Then we’ll see if he really is mad enough to swap a new lamp for an old one.”
This was Aladdin’s magic lamp, which he had to thank for the dream his life had become, and which he had left there before setting out on his hunt. The princess, who knew nothing of its value, sent a eunuch to make the exchange. He went down and said to the magician: “Give me a new lamp in return for this.”
The magician had no doubt that this was the lamp he sought. There could hardly be another like it in Aladdin’s palace, where everything else was made of gold or silver. He snatched it, and told the servant to take his pick. The square rang out with jeers, but the magician paid them no attention and walked away. He made his way through the backstreets, and in a deserted alley abandoned the basket with its new lamps, as he had no more use for them. Then he left the city gates and pressed on into the countryside. He settled in a lonely place until nightfall, when at last he pulled the lamp from his cloak and rubbed it. The jinni appeared: “What is your command?” The magician asked to be carried, along with the palace and the princess in it, to a certain place in North Africa.
In the morning, the sultan looked out of the window to admire Aladdin’s palace and found only empty space. He rubbed his eyes and saw nothing more, though the air was clear, the sky blue, and the early morning picked out all things distinctly. “I am not mistaken,” he said to himself. “It stood right there. If it had collapsed, it would still lie there in ruins, and if the earth had swallowed it up, some trace of it would remain.”
He sent for the grand vizier, who arrived in such haste that he did not notice anything out of place. But now he, too, was lost in astonishment. Again he put it down to magic, and this time the sultan could hardly argue. “Where is that impostor?” he cried. “Off with his head!”
Thirty horsemen were sent to bring Aladdin back in chains. They met him riding home, five or six leagues from the city. “Prince Aladdin,” said the officer, “it is with great regret that we must arrest you and lead you to the sultan as a criminal of the state. We beg you not to think ill of us for carrying out our duty, and to forgive us.”
These words startled Aladdin, who asked the officer what crime he was accused of, but neither the officer nor his men could say. As Aladdin saw that his men were outnumbered by the guard, and that some of them had already deserted him, he dismounted. “Here I am,” he said, “but know that I am guilty of no crime, neither against the sultan nor the state.” A long, thick chain was slipped around his neck and torso, so that he could not move his arms, and he was led on foot to the city.
The people, who loved him, and who saw that he was walking to his death, took up their swords, and those who had none armed themselves with stones, and they went after the horsemen. Soon they had grown to such a number that it was all the guard could do to keep the people from taking Aladdin before they reached the sultan. The men took care to fill the streets they passed, spreading out as they widened and closing ranks as they thinned, and in this way arrived at the palace.
Aladdin was carried before the sultan, who ordered the executioner to cut off his head. The executioner took hold of Aladdin, removed the chain that bound his body, and, after laying down a strip of hide stained with the blood of a thousand other convicts he had killed, pushed Aladdin to his knees and covered his eyes. Then he drew his sword, sent it flying through the air three times to try its swing, and waited for the sultan’s signal.
At that instant the grand vizier noticed that the crowd had overcome the guards and were now scaling the walls of the palace. Just as the sultan drew breath to give the signal, the vizier said: “Majesty, I beg you to consider what you are about to do. You run the risk of seeing your palace stormed, a disaster which could prove deadly.”
“My palace stormed!” said the sultan. “Who would dare to attempt such a thing?”
“If you were to cast your eyes down to the palace walls and into the square, you would know the truth of what I say.”
Horrified by the unrest in the square, the sultan called for the executioner to stay his hand, had Aladdin unbound, and pardoned him in front of the crowd. Overjoyed to have saved the life of a man they loved, the insurgents relayed the news to those around them, who passed it on to the others beyond. The guards, who had climbed to the highest terraces, made Aladdin’s pardon known to the entire city. The sultan’s merciful gesture calmed the crowd, eased the turmoil in the square, and sent everyone quietly home.
When he found himself free, Aladdin begged to know his crime. “Do you claim to ignore it?” said the sultan. “Come here,” and he showed him from the window the place where his palace had been. Aladdin looked and saw nothing. There was only empty space, the land where his palace had stood. Unable to guess what had become of it, he was too shocked to say a single word.
“Tell me, then,” said the sultan impatiently, “what you have done with your palace and my daughter. The first is of no concern to me, but without my daughter I cannot live. You must bring her back or lose your head, and this time I shall not be stopped.”
Aladdin begged the sultan to grant him forty days, promising if he failed to find her that he would go to his death without resistance.
“Your wish is granted,” said the sultan, “but do not think you can escape. Wherever on earth you go, I will find you.”
The Princess’s Revenge
Aladdin left the palace heavy-hearted. With downcast eyes he passed through the courtyards, as the guards, who had been his friends, turned their backs to him. Had they approached him instead, they would not have recognized him; he hardly recognized himself, and was no longer sure of his own mind. For three days he roamed the city like a madman, asking everyone he met where his palace was. Some only laughed at him, but the wisest were moved to pity. He wandered about irresolute, living on the charity of others.
At last he set out for the countryside, and, after crossing many wildernesses in an agony of doubt, at nightfall he reached a river. Despair came over him. He decided to throw himself in, but, being a good Muslim, first knelt to say his prayers. He leaned down to the water’s edge to wash his face and hands, but the riverbank was wet and he slipped. He would have been carried away had he not taken hold of a rock jutting out of the water. Happily, he still had the ring which the magician had slipped onto his finger before sending him down into the vault many years before. The ring rubbed against the rock as he gripped it, and the jinni he had seen in the vault came to him once more: “What is your command? I am here to obey you as your slave, and the slave of all those who have the ring, I and the other slaves of the ring.”
“Save my life again,” said Aladdin, “and bring my palace back.”
“That is not in my power,” said the jinni. “I am only the slave of the ring. You must ask the slave of the lamp.”
“If that is so,” replied Aladdin, “I order you by the power of the ring to take me to my palace, wherever it is on earth, and to set me down under my wife’s window.”
He at once found himself on a grassy plain in North Africa, under the window of the princess, but, as the night was deep and all was quiet in the palace, he sat down at the foot of a tree and fell asleep.
He was woken by the singing of birds, and rejoiced that he would soon be reunited with his dear Badr al-Bu
dur. As he stood under her window, waiting for her to rise, he saw clearly that all his trouble came from his having let the lamp out of his sight, and wondered who had robbed him of it. He might have guessed had he known that he and his palace were in the Maghreb, which would have recalled to him the name of his sworn enemy, the Maghrebi magician, but the slave of the ring had said nothing of their whereabouts, and he had not asked.
The princess woke earlier than she had done since she had been carried to North Africa by the magician. He came to see her once a day, but she treated him so harshly each time that he had not dared take up residence there. As she was dressing, one of her women looked out of the window and saw Aladdin. The princess ran to open it, and at the noise Aladdin looked up and beamed. “There is no time to lose,” said the princess as she closed the window. “Come in through the secret door.”
The secret door was beneath the princess’s quarters. Aladdin found it open and went up. The lovers embraced many times, having believed the other lost forever. After their tearful reunion they sat down, and Aladdin said: “Princess, before all else, for your own sake and mine, I implore you to tell me what became of the old lamp I left in the alcove of the hall with twenty-four windows.”
“Alas!” she replied. “I knew the lamp was the source of our misery, but the fault is mine!” She told him how the old lamp was exchanged for a new one, and how she had been transported that night to the Maghreb, as she had learned from the traitor himself.
“Now I know the Maghrebi magician is to blame!” said Aladdin. “He is the most deceitful of men. Where does he keep the lamp?”
“He carries it with him in his cloak. Since I have been here, he has tried to convince me that you died by the sultan’s hand, that I must break our vows and take him instead as my husband. He likes to add that you are an ingrate and that you owe your fortune to him, but I only reply with my tears. I suspect he intends to sit out my grief in the hope that I will change my mind, and to use violence if I persist.”
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