The Arabian Nights (New Deluxe Edition)

by Muhsin Mahdi

  Then the she-demon said, “O Commander of the Faithful, the man who beat this girl is your son al-Amin brother of al-Ma’mun. He had heard of her beauty and charm, and he tricked her into a legal marriage. But he is not to blame for beating her, for he pledged her and bound her by a solemn oath not to do a certain thing, but she broke the pledge. He was about to kill her but, reflecting on the sin of murder and fearing the Almighty God, contented himself with flogging her and sending her back to her home. Such is the story of the second girl, and God knows all.” When the caliph heard what the she-demon said and found out who had flogged the girl, he was exceedingly amazed and said, “Praise be to the Almighty God who has blessed me and helped me to release these two women and deliver them from sorcery and torture and who has blessed me a second time and revealed to me the cause of that woman’s misfortune. By God, I am now going to do a deed by which I will be remembered.” Then the caliph, O King, summoned his son al-Amin and questioned him to confirm the truth of the story. Then he assembled together the judge and witnesses, the three dervishes, the first girl and her two sisters who had been cast under a spell, and the flogged girl and the shopper. When they were all assembled, he married the first girl and her sisters who had been cast under a spell to the three dervishes, who were the sons of kings. He made the three dervishes chamberlains and members of his inner circle, giving them money, clothes, horses, a palace in Baghdad, and everything they needed. He married the flogged girl to his son al-Amin, under a new marriage contract, showered her with wealth and ordered the house to be rebuilt and made even better than before. Then the commander of the Faithful himself married the third girl, the shopper. The people marveled at the caliph’s wisdom, tolerance, and generosity and, when all the facts were revealed, recorded these stories.

  2. Harun al-Rashid’s vizier; see n. 3, p. 5.

  [The Story of the Three Apples]

  A FEW DAYS later the caliph said to Ja’far, “I wish to go into the city to find out what is happening and to question the people about the conduct of my administrators, so that I may dismiss those of whom they complain and promote those they praise.” Ja’far replied, “As you wish.” When it was night, the caliph went into the City with Ja’far and Masrur and walked about the streets and markets, and as they made their way through an alley, they met a very old man carrying a basket and a fishnet on his head and holding a staff in his hand. The caliph said to Ja’far, “This is a poor man in need.” Then he asked the old man, “Old man, what is your trade?” and the old man replied, “My lord, I am a fisherman with a family, and I have been out fishing since midday without luck or anything with which to buy supper for my family; I feel helpless and disgusted with life, and I wish that I was dead.” The caliph said to him, “Fisherman, would you go back with us to the Tigris,3 stand at the riverbank, and cast the net for me, and whatever you happen to catch, I shall buy from you for one hundred dinars?”

  Delighted, the old fisherman replied, “Yes, my lord,” and went back with them to the Tigris. He cast his net, and when he gathered his rope and pulled it up, he found inside the net a locked, heavy chest. The caliph gave the fisherman one hundred dinars and bade Masrur carry the chest back to the palace. When they broke it open, they found inside a basket of palm leaves sewn with a red woolen thread. Cutting the basket open, they saw inside a piece of carpet and, lifting it out, saw a woman’s cloak folded in four. When they removed the cloak, they found at the bottom of the chest a girl in the bloom of youth, as fair as pure silver. She had been slain and cut to pieces.

  But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence. Then Dinarzad said, “O sister, what an entertaining story!” Shahrazad replied, “What is this compared with what I shall tell you tomorrow night if I stay alive!”

  THE SEVENTIETH NIGHT

  The following night Shahrazad said:

  I heard, O happy King, that the girl had been cut into nineteen pieces. When the caliph looked at her, he felt sad and sorry for her, and with tears in his eyes turned to Ja’far and said angrily, “You dog of a vizier, people are being killed and thrown into the river in my city, while I bear the responsibility till Doomsday. By God, I will avenge this girl and put her murderer to the worst of deaths. If you do not find me her killer, I will hang you and hang forty of your kinsmen with you.” He was exceedingly angry and cried a disquieting cry at Ja’far, who said, “O Commander of the Faithful, grant me three days’ delay.” The caliph replied, “Granted.” Then Ja’far withdrew and went into the city, vexed and sad, not knowing what to do. He said to himself, “Where shall I find the murderer of this girl, so that I may bring him before the caliph? If I bring him one of the men from jail, I will be guilty of his blood. I don’t know what to do, but there is no power and no strength, save in God, the Almighty, the Magnificent.” He stayed at home the first day, and the second, and by noon of the third day the caliph sent some of his chamberlains to fetch him. When he came into the presence of the caliph, the caliph asked him, “Where is the murderer of the girl?” Ja’far replied, “O Commander of the Faithful, am I an expert in detecting a murder?” The caliph was furious at his answer. He yelled at him and commanded that he be hanged before the palace, bidding a crier to cry throughout Baghdad, “Whoever wishes to see the hanging of the vizier Ja’far with forty of his Barmaki kinsmen let him come before the palace and look at the spectacle.” Then the governor of the city and the chamberlains brought Ja’far and his kinsmen and made them stand under the gallows.

  But while they waited to see the handkerchief at the window (this was the usual signal), and while the crowd wept for Ja’far and his kinsmen, a neatly dressed young man pushed his way through the crowd toward Ja’far. He had a bright face, with dark eyes, fair brow, and rosy cheeks covered with a downy beard, and graced with a mole like a disk of ambergris. When he finally made his way and stood before Ja’far, he kissed his hand and said, “May I spare you from such a horrible fate, O Grand Vizier, most eminent prince, and refuge of the poor? Hang me for the murder of the girl, for I am the one who murdered her.” When Ja’far heard the young man’s confession, he rejoiced at his own deliverance but grieved for the young man. But while Ja’far was talking to him, an old man, well-advanced in years, pushed his way through the crowd until he reached Ja’far and said, “O Vizier and mighty lord, do not believe what this young man is saying, for none has murdered the girl but I. Punish me for her death, for if you do not, I will call you to account before the Almighty God.” But the young man cried out, “O Vizier, none murdered her but I.” The old man said, “Son, you are still very young, while I am an old man who has had enough of life; I will give my life for you.” And turning to Ja’far, he continued, “None murdered the girl but I. Hurry up and hang me, for my life is over, now that she is dead.”

  When Ja’far heard the conversation, he was amazed, and he took both the young man and the old man with him and went to the caliph. After kissing the ground before him seven times, he said, “O Commander of the Faithful, I have brought you the murderer of the girl. Each of these two men, the young man and the old man, claims that he is the murderer. Here they stand before you.” The caliph, looking at the young man and the old man, asked, “Which of you killed the girl and threw her into the river?” The young man replied, “I murdered her,” and the old man said, “None killed her but I.” Then the caliph said to Ja’far, “Hang them both.” But Ja’far said, “O Commander of the Faithful, since only one of them is guilty, it will be unjust to hang the other too.” The young man said, “By Him who raised the firmament, I am the one who four days ago killed the girl, placed her in a basket of palm leaves, covered her with a woman’s cloak, placed a piece of carpet over it, sewed the basket with a red woolen thread, and threw her into the river. In the name of God and His Judgment Day, I ask you to punish me for her death; do not let me live after her.” The caliph, marveling at what the young man said, asked him, “What caused you to kill her wrongfully, and what caused you to come forward on your own?” The
young man replied, “O Commander of the Faithful, our story is such that were it engraved with needles at the corner of the eye, it would be a lesson to those who would consider.” The caliph said, “Relate to us what happened to you and her.” The young man replied, “I hear and obey the command of God and the Commander of the Faithful.” Then the young man …

  But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.

  THE SEVENTY-FIRST NIGHT

  The following night Shahrazad said:

  I heard, O happy King, that the young man said:

  O Commander of the Faithful, the murdered girl was my wife and the mother of my children. She was my cousin, the daughter of this old man, my uncle, who gave her to me in marriage when she was still a young virgin. We lived together for eleven years, during which time God blessed her and she bore me three sons. She was well-behaved toward me and served me exceedingly well, and I in turn loved her very much. On the first day of this month she fell gravely ill and kept getting worse, but I took great care of her until by the end of the month she slowly began to recover.

  One day, before going to the bath, she said to me, “Husband, I want you to satisfy a desire of mine.” I replied, “I hear and obey, even if it were a thousand desires.” She said, “I have a craving for an apple. If I could only smell it and take a bite, I wouldn’t care if I die afterward.” I replied, “It shall be done.” Then I went and looked for apples but could not find any anywhere in your whole city. Had I found any, I would have paid a dinar for one. Vexed at my failure to satisfy her craving, I went home and said, “Wife, I was unable to find any apples.” She was upset and, being still ill, suffered a relapse that night. As soon as it was morning, I went out and made the rounds of the orchards, one by one, but found no apples anywhere. At last a very old gardener answered my inquiry, saying, “Son, no apples can be found, except in the orchards of the Commander of the Faithful in Basra, where they are stored by the gardener. I went home and, driven by my love and solicitude for her, I prepared myself for the journey. For two full weeks, O Commander of the Faithful, I journeyed day and night, returning finally with three apples I had bought from the gardener for three dinars. But when I handed them to her, she showed no pleasure in them but laid them aside. Then she suffered another relapse, lay ill, and made me worried about her for ten days.

  One day, as I sat in my shop, buying and selling fabrics, I suddenly saw an ugly black slave, as tall as a reed and as broad as a bench, passing by. He was holding in his hand one of the three apples for which I had journeyed for half a month. I called after him, saying, “My good slave, where did you get this apple?” He replied, “I got it from my mistress, for I went to see her today and found her lying ill with three apples by her side. She told me that her pimp of a husband had journeyed for half a month to bring them. After I ate and drank with her, I took one of the apples with me.” When I heard what he said, O Commander of the Faithful, the world turned black before my eyes. I locked up my shop and went home, mad with resentment and fury. When I got home and looked for the apples, I found only two, and when I asked her, “Wife, where is the other apple?” she raised her head and replied, “By God, husband, I don’t know.” This convinced me that the slave had told the truth, and I took a sharp knife and, stealing behind her silently, knelt on her breast, worked the knife into her throat, and cut off her head. Then I quickly placed her in a basket, covered her with a woman’s cloak, placed a piece of carpet on top of it, and sewed the basket. Then I placed the basket inside a chest, carried it on my head, and threw it into the Tigris. For God’s sake, O Commander of the Faithful, avenge her on me and hang me quickly, or I will call you to account on her behalf before the Almighty God. For when I threw her into the river and went home, I found my eldest son crying, and when I asked him, “What is the matter with you?” he replied I “O father, this morning I stole one of the three apples you had brought back for my mother. I took it and went to the market, and as I was standing with my brothers, a tall black slave came by and snatched it from my hand. I protested, saying, ‘For God’s sake, good slave, this is one of the apples for which my father journeyed for half a month to Basra to bring back to my mother who was ill. Don’t get me into trouble.’ But he paid no attention to me, and when I begged him for a second and a third time, he slapped me and went off with it. Scared of my mother, I went with my brothers outside the city and we stayed there in fear until it started to get dark. For God’s sake, father, say nothing to her of this, or her illness will get worse.” When I heard my son’s words and saw him trembling and weeping, O Commander of the Faithful, I realized that I had killed my wife wrongfully and that she had died unjustly; the accursed slave, hearing about the apples from my son, had slandered her and lied about her. When I realized that, I wept and made my sons weep with me, and when this old man, my uncle and her father, came in, I related to him what had happened, and he wept and made us weep with him till midnight, and for three days afterward we mourned for her and grieved over her unjust death, and all because of that black slave. This is the story of the murdered girl. So by your fathers and forefathers, I beg you to avenge her unjust death on me and kill me for my mistake, for I have no life left after her.

  When the caliph heard his words …

  But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.

  THE SEVENTY-SECOND NIGHT

  The following night, Shahrazad said:

  I heard, O happy King, that when the caliph heard the young man’s story, he was very much amazed and said, “By God, I will hang none but the accursed slave and I will do a deed that will quench the thirst for vengeance and please the Glorious King.” Then he said to Ja’far, “Go into the city and bring me the slave, or I will strike your neck.” Ja’far left in tears, saying to himself, “There is no escape from death this time, for ‘the jar cannot be saved every time,’ but the All-powerful and Omnipotent God who saved me the first time may save me yet a second time. By God, I will stay home for three days until God’s will is accomplished.” He stayed home the first day and the second, and by noon of the third day, giving himself up for lost, Ja’far summoned the judges and witnesses and made his will. Then he called his children to him, bade them farewell, and wept. Soon a messenger from the caliph arrived, saying, “The caliph is in a great rage and he swears that this day shall not pass before you are hanged.” Ja’far wept and made all his slaves and members of his household weep for him. After he bade his children and all the members of his household farewell, his little daughter, who was very pretty and whom he loved more than all the others, came up to him, and he embraced her and kissed her, as he wept at parting from his family and his children. But as he embraced her to comfort her, pressing her hard to his aching heart, he felt something round in her pocket. He asked her, “My little girl, what is in your pocket?” and the little one replied, “It is an apple with the name of our Lord the caliph written on it. Rayhan our slave brought it, but he would not let me have it until I gave him two dinars for it.” When Ja’far heard her mention the apple and the slave, he shrieked and, putting his hand in her pocket, took out the apple and, recognizing it, cried out, “O Speedy Deliverer!”

  Then he bade the slave be brought before him, and when the slave came, Ja’far said, “Damn you, Rayhan, where did you get this apple?” The slave replied, “Although ‘a lie may save a man, the truth is better and safer.’ By God, my lord, I did not steal this apple from your palace or from the palace of the Commander of the Faithful or from his gardens. Four days ago, as I was walking through one of the alleys of the city, I saw some children at play, and when one of them dropped this apple, I beat him and snatched it from him. He cried and said to me, ‘Kind gentleman, this apple belongs to my mother who is ill. She had told my father that she had a craving for apples, and he journeyed for half a month to Basra and brought her back three apples, of which I stole this one; give it back to me.’ But I refused to give it back to him; instead, I brought it here and sold it to my little lady
for two dinars. This is the story of the apple.” When Ja’far heard his words, he marveled at the story and at the discovery that the cause of all the trouble turned out to be none other than one of his own slaves. He rejoiced and, taking the slave by the hand, led him before the caliph and related to him the whole story from beginning to end. The Commander of the Faithful was greatly astonished and laughed until he fell on his back. Then he asked Ja’far, “Do you mean to tell me that this slave of yours is the cause of all the trouble?” Ja’far replied, “Yes, Commander of the Faithful.” Seeing that the caliph was greatly struck by the coincidences of the story, Ja’far said to the Commander of the Faithful, “Do not marvel at this story, for it is not as amazing as the story of the two viziers, Nur al-Din Ali al-Misri and Badr al-Din Hasan al-Basri.” The caliph asked, “O my vizier, is the story of these two viziers truly more amazing than this one?” Ja’far replied, “Yes, it is indeed more amazing and more extraordinary, but I will not relate it to you, save on one condition.” Eager to hear the story, the caliph said, “Come on, my vizier, and let me hear it. If it is indeed more amazing than the events we have just witnessed, I will pardon your slave, but if it is not, I will kill him. Come on: tell me what you know.” Ja’far said: