resolution she had formed in the plain, where they had encamped
together for the last time, when she discovered that she waited for
him in vain; in what manner she had executed it until her arrival at
the Isle of Ebony, where she had been obliged to marry the princess
Haiatalnefous, and to accept the crown, which king Armanos had
offered her in consequence of the marriage; that the princess, whose
merits she spoke of in the most exaggerated terms, had received the
declaration she had made of her sex in a favourable manner; and at
last acquainted him with the adventure of the talisman, found in one
of the jars of olives and gold dust, which she had purchased, and
which had induced her to send for him to the city of idolaters.
When the princess Badoura had concluded, she begged the prince to
inform her by what accident the talisman had occasioned his
departure; he satisfied her curiosity, and when he had finished, he
complained to her, in an affectionate manner, of her cruelty in
making him languish so long a time. She gave him the reasons we have
already heard, after which, as the night was far advanced, they went
to bed.
They arose the next morning, as soon as it was day; the princess no
longer wore the royal robe, but resumed her own dress, and when she
was ready, she dispatched the chief of the eunuchs, to request king
Armanos, her father-in-law, to take the trouble of coming to her
apartment.
When king Armanos arrived, he was very much surprised to see a lady,
who was totally unknown to him; and the grand treasurer, who was not
allowed to enter the inner palace, any more than the other nobles
belonging to the court. When he had taken his seat, he inquired for
the king.
“Sire,” replied the princess, “yesterday I was king; to-day I
am nothing more than the princess of China, the wife of the true
prince Camaralzaman, who is the true son of king Schahzaman. If your
majesty will have the patience to listen to our separate histories,
I flatter myself you will not condemn me for having conceived and
continued a deceit of so innocent a nature.” King Armanos granted
her an audience, and listened to her with the utmost astonishment,
from beginning to end.
When she had concluded the history of their adventures, “Sire,”
added she, “although the liberty, granted by our religion to men
to have several wives, is not very agreeable to our sex, yet if your
majesty will consent to give the princess Haiatalnefous, your
daughter, in marriage to prince Camaralzaman, I will cheerfully
resign the rank and quality of queen, which properly belongs to her,
and will myself be content with the second rank. Even if this
preference were not her due, I should have insisted on her accepting
it, after the obligation I am under to her, for having so generously
kept the secret with which I entrusted her. If your majesty’s
determination depends upon her consent, I have already obtained
that, and am certain she will be happy.”
King Armanos listened with every mark of admiration to this
discourse of the princess Badoura; and when she had finished
speaking, he turned to prince Camaralzaman, “My son,” said he to
him, “since the princess Badoura, your wife, whom I had hitherto
considered as my son-in-law, in consequence of a deception which I
know not how to complain of, has offered to share your bed with my
daughter, I have nothing to do but to inquire if you also are
willing to marry her, and will accept the crown, which the princess
Badoura would well deserve to wear for the rest of her life, if she
did not prefer resigning it through her love for
you.”--“Sire,” replied Camaralzaman, “however strong my
desire of seeing the king, my father, may be, the obligations I owe
to your majesty and to the princess Haiatalnefous are so great and
powerful, that I cannot refuse you any thing.”
Camaralzaman was proclaimed king, and married the same day with the
greatest magnificence; and he was thoroughly satisfied with the
beauty, wit, and affection of the princess Haiatalnefous.
The two queens continued to live together in the same friendship and
union which they had hitherto done, and were each well contented
with the equality which king Camaralzaman observed in his conduct
towards them, in sharing his bed with them alternately.
They each presented him with a son in the same year, and nearly at
the same period, and the birth of the two princes was celebrated by
public rejoicings. Camaralzaman gave the name of Amgiad, or “the
most glorious,” to the first, whom the queen Badoura had borne,
and that of Assad, or “the most happy,” to him whom the queen
Haiatalnefous had brought into the world.
THE HISTORY
OF PRINCE AMGIAD, AND OF PRINCE ASSAD.
These two princes were brought up with great care. And when they
were of a proper age, they had each the same governor, and the same
masters in all those sciences and branches of the polite arts which
king Camaralzaman wished them to be skilled in. The same person also
taught them both the same personal exercises. The great regard they
showed for each other, even from their infancy, produced a certain
uniformity in all their thoughts and actions, which in itself tended
still to augment their friendship.
When they were far enough advanced in years for each of them to have
a separate house and establishment, they were so strongly attached
to each other, that they requested their father to suffer them to
have but one between them. They obtained their wishes; and in this
manner they had the same officers appointed for each, the same
attendants, the same equipage, the same apartment, and the same
table. Camaralzaman indeed insensibly placed so implicit a
confidence both in their ability and their ideas of rectitude, that,
when they were about nineteen years old, he did not hesitate to
appoint them alternately to preside at the council, whenever he was
for a few days engaged in hunting.
As these two princes were of equal beauty, both in face and person,
and had always been esteemed so from their infancy, the two queens
felt an almost incredible attachment to them; yet it nevertheless
happened, that the princess Badoura had a greater affection for
Assad, the son of queen Haiatalnefous, than she had for Amgiad, her
own son: and in the same manner queen Haiatalnefous was much fonder
of Amgiad than she was of her own son Assad.
The queens each thought at first that this affection only proceeded
from the great friendship they had for each other. But as the
princes advanced in age, this regard, which commenced in friendship,
changed to a more tender feeling, and at length became the most
violent love. The princes, indeed, appeared in their eyes possessed
of so many accomplishments, that they were absolutely blinded and
led away by their charms. All the infamy of their passion was well
known to them, and they made the greatest efforts to resist it: but
the freedom and familiarity with which they saw the princes every
day, and the continued habit they always had of admiring them from
their earliest infancy, of praising them, and of caressing them,
which it was scarcely in their power to break themselves of,
inflamed their passions to such a degree, that they could get no
rest, and lost all their appetite. To heighten their misfortune, as
well as that of the princes, the latter had not, so much were they
ever accustomed to their manners, the slightest suspicion of this
hateful and horrid attachment.
As the two queens had not entrusted each other with the secret of
their passion, and as neither of them had the audacity openly to
make a declaration of it in person to the prince whom she loved,
they both agreed, though unknown to each other, to explain it by
letter. And in order to execute this fatal design, they took
advantage of the absence of king Camaralzaman, who was gone for a
few days on a hunting party.
The day after the king’s departure, prince Amgiad presided at the
council, and was employed two or three hours in the afternoon in
hearing complaints and administering justice. As he came out from
the council, and was going back to the palace, an eunuch took him
aside, and gave him a letter from queen Haiatalnefous. Amgiad
immediately opened it, and read its contents with the greatest
degree of horror. “What,” cried he to the eunuch, the moment he
had perused it, and drawing his sabre, “is this the fidelity you
owe to your king and master?” And, in saying this, he struck off
his head.
He had no sooner done this, than Amgiad went in the greatest
possible rage to find his mother, queen Badoura, and with an air
that plainly showed his anger, held out the letter to her, and
informed her of the contents; first telling her from whom it came.
Instead, however, of listening to him, the queen herself began to be
angry. “Be assured, my son,” she replied, “that what you tell
me is nothing but a calumnious falsehood. Queen Haiatalnefous is
both prudent and wise, and indeed I consider it a great act of
boldness in you to speak against her with so much insolence.” To
this speech of the queen, the prince said, “You are both equally
wicked, and were it not for the respect I owe to the king, my
father, this day should be the last which Haiatalnefous has to
live.”
From the manner in which prince Amgiad conducted himself, queen
Badoura might easily judge what she had to expect from prince Assad,
who was equally virtuous, and who would not, therefore, receive the
similar declaration more favorably, which she intended to make to
him. This, however, did not prevent her from pursuing her detestable
plan; the next day, therefore, she wrote a letter to him, which she
entrusted to an old woman, who had free admission into the palace.
This old woman chose the moment that prince Assad left the council,
where he went to preside in turn, as a proper opportunity to execute
her commission. The prince took the letter, and without even giving
himself time to finish the perusal of it, he was so transported with
rage, that he drew his sabre, and punished the old woman as she
deserved. He then ran to the apartment of queen Haiatalnefous, his
mother, with the letter in his hand. He was going to show it her,
but she did not give him time, either for that, or even to open his
lips. “I know what you want of me,” she cried, “but you are
equally as impertinent as your brother Amgiad. Go, retire; and never
again appear in my presence.”
Assad was in the utmost astonishment at these words, which he was
totally unprepared for: and they put him into so violent a rage,
that he was upon the point of showing the most direful marks of it;
he, however, had the resolution to restrain himself, and retired
without reply, lest any thing should escape him, unworthy of his own
greatness of soul. As prince Amgiad had not mentioned his having
received a letter the day before, Assad went to his brother to chide
him for his silence, and to mingle his own grief with his; for from
what his own mother said, he easily conjectured she was not less
criminal than queen Badoura.
The two queens were driven almost to desperation at finding the
princes possessed of so much virtue, which, instead of bringing them
back to a sense of their duty, made them, in fact, renounce every
natural and maternal feeling. They consulted together how they
should be able to destroy their sons. They made their women believe,
that the princes had themselves endeavoured to violate their
persons; and attempted to pass off this trick for a reality by the
tears they shed, as well as the lamentations and invectives they
uttered. They went and slept in the same bed, as if the resistance
they thus pretended to have made, had driven them to the greatest
distress.
When king Camaralzaman returned the next day from the chase, he was
in so great astonishment at finding the two queens in bed together,
bathed in tears, and in a condition they so well knew how to feign,
that it excited his compassion. He eagerly inquired of them what had
happened to them.
To this question the cunning queens only answered by redoubling
their sighs and groans, when, at length, after the greatest
entreaty, queen Badoura broke silence, and said, “Considering,
sire, the deep yet proper grief with which we are afflicted, we
ought not even to expose ourselves to the light of the sun, after
the outrage which the princes, your sons, with a brutality almost
without example, have attempted. By a conspiracy, altogether
unworthy of their illustrious birth, they have had the boldness and
insolence during your absence to attempt our honour. We entreat your
majesty not to make any further inquiries, our grief is sufficient
to explain the rest.”
The king then ordered the two princes to be called, and would
absolutely have killed them with his own hand, if old king Armanos,
his father-in-law, who happened to be present, had not prevented
him. “What, my son,” he cried out, “are you going to do? Do
you wish to embrue your hands, nay your very palace, with your own
blood? There are other means of punishing them, if they are really
guilty of any crime.” In this manner he endeavoured to appease
him, and entreated him thoroughly to examine, whether it was quite
certain they had committed the crime which was laid to their charge.
It was no difficult task for Camaralzaman so far to get the better
of his rage as to refrain from being the executioner of his own
children. Having, however, ordered them to be arrested, he desired
an emir, called Giondar, to come in the evening to him; and he then
commanded him to conduct the princes to the outside of the city, in
what part, and to any distance he pleased, and there to take their
lives. As a proof also of having executed the orders he thus
received, Giondar was not to return without their clothes.
Giondar continued travelling the whole night; and the next morning,
as he got off his horse, he informed the princes, with tears in his
eyes, of the order he had received. “This command, princes,”
said he to them, “is most cruel; and to me it is a mortification
of the most painful kind, to have been chosen for the executioner. I
wish to God that I could avoid it.”--“Do your duty,” replied
they, “we know well enough that you are not the cause of our
death; and sincerely pardon you.” In saying this they embraced and
took an eternal farewell of each other with so much tenderness and
affection, that it was a long time before they could separate.
Prince Assad was then the first, who prepared himself to receive his
death from the hands of Giondar. “Begin with me,” said he,
“that I may not have the grief of seeing my dear brother Amgiad
expire.” Amgiad opposed this plan, and Giondar was unable, without
again renewing his tears, to witness their amiable contest, which so
evidently proved the sincerity and strength of their mutual
affection.
This interesting dispute was at last terminated by their entreating
Giondar to bind them both together, and place them in such a way,
that they might both, as nearly as possible, receive their death at
the same moment. “Do not refuse,” they said to him, “to afford
two unfortunate brothers the consolation of dying together, who
have, not excepting even their innocence in this affair, from their
earliest infancy, possessed every thing in common.” Giondar
granted the two princes what they wished. He bound them, and having
placed them, as he thought, in the most convenient manner to strike
off both their heads at one blow, he asked them if they had any
request to make to him before their death. “There is only one
thing,” answered the princes, “which we wish you to do; and that
is, to assure the king, our father, upon your return, that we die
innocent: but that we nevertheless do not impute to him the crime of
shedding our blood. We know, indeed, that he is not acquainted with
the truth of what we are accused.” Giondar promised not to fail
doing what they desired, and at the same instant drew out his
scimitar; his horse, who was fastened to a tree, alarmed at this
action, and also at the glittering of the blade, broke his bridle,
and began to gallop over the country at full speed.
This horse was very valuable, and also very richly caparisoned, and
Giondar did not at all like the thoughts of losing him. Vexed,
therefore, at this accident, instead of cutting off the heads of the
princes, he threw down his scimitar and ran after his horse,
endeavouring to catch him. The horse, who was both vigorous and
playful, galloped about for some time just before Giondar, and led
him, by the pursuit, close to a wood, into which he ran. The emir
followed him; when the neighing of the horse disturbed a lion, who
was asleep. The lion instantly roused himself, but instead of
pursuing the horse, he ran directly at Giondar, as soon as he
perceived him.
He then thought no more of his horse, but was in the greatest
distress how to save his own life. He endeavoured to avoid the
attack of the lion, who never lost sight of him, and kept pursuing
him among the trees. “God,” said he to himself in this
extremity, “would not have inflicted this punishment upon me, if
the princes, whom I have been ordered to kill, were not innocent.
Unfortunately, too, I have not my scimitar to defend myself with.”
During the absence of Giondar, the two princes experienced the most
burning thirst, brought on by the fear of death, which they felt,
notwithstanding their manly and generous resolution to submit to the
cruel order of their father. Prince Amgiad then observed to his
brother that they were not far from a spring of water, and proposed
to him to unbind themselves and go and drink. “It is not worth the
trouble, my brother,” said Assad, “to quench our thirst for the
few moments we have to live: we shall have to support it only for a
short time longer.” Without, however, paying any attention to this
speech, Amgiad unbound both himself and his brother, though against
the inclination of the latter. They went to the spring; and when
they had thus refreshed themselves they heard the roaring of the
lion, accompanied by the most piercing cries, issue from the wood
into which Giondar had run after his horse. Amgiad instantly took up
the scimitar which Giondar had thrown down. “Brother,” he cried
out, “let us hasten to the assistance of the unfortunate Giondar;
perhaps we may arrive in time to deliver him from the danger he
seems to be in.”
The two princes lost no time; and they arrived at the very instant
in which the lion had pulled Giondar down to the ground. No sooner
did the animal observe prince Amgiad approaching with his scimitar
in his hand, than he let his prey go and ran at him with the
greatest fury. The prince waited to receive him with intrepidity and
coolness, and gave him a blow, with so much strength and skill, that
the lion fell instantly dead at his feet.
As soon as Giondar perceived that he was indebted for his life to
the two princes, he threw himself at their feet, and thanked them
for the great favor and assistance they had shown him, in a manner
that evinced the strongest gratitude. “Princes,” said he to them
when he got up, while his tears fell upon their hands, “God
forbid, that I should ever attempt to take your lives after the
essential help you have afforded me in saving my own. It shall never
be said, that the emir Giondar was capable of such black
ingratitude.”
“The service we have done you,” replied the princes, “ought by
no means to prevent you from executing your orders. Go and take your
horse; and let us return to the spot where you left us.” They had
now no difficulty in catching the horse, whose alarm and spirit was
much abated, and who stopped of himself. In spite, however, of every
thing they could urge to Giondar, as they were returning towards the
spring, either by entreaty or prayer, they could not persuade him to
be the instrument of their death. “The only thing that I take the
liberty to ask of you,” said he, “and which I beg you not to
refuse, is to accommodate yourselves as well as you can with my
clothes between you, and to let me have yours; and then to save
yourselves at such a distance, that the king, your father, may never
again even hear your names mentioned.”
The princes at length complied with all his wishes; and after having
given him both their dresses, they put on as much as he could spare
of his clothes. Giondar then obliged them to take whatever money he
had about him, and departed.
After the emir had left the princes, he passed through the wood,
where he dipped their clothes in the blood of the lion, and then
continued his way to the capital of the Isle of Ebony. On his
arrival, king Camaralzaman asked him if he had faithfully executed
the orders he had received. “Sire,” replied Giondar, presenting
the bloody habits of the two princes to him, “behold the
proofs.”--“Inform me,” said the king, “in what manner they
behaved on suffering the punishment I ordered to be inflicted on
them.”--“They received it, sire,” answered Giondar, “with
the most exemplary fortitude; and with such perfect resignation to
the decrees of God, as fully proved the sincerity of their belief in
their religion. Above all, they showed towards your majesty the
greatest respect, and most entire submission to your order for their
deaths. “We die innocent,” they exclaimed, “but we do not
murmur at our fate. We receive our death from the hands of God, and
we heartily forgive the king our father. We well know he is ignorant
of the truth!” Camaralzaman was sensibly affected at the account
given by Giondar. He then thought he would examine the clothes of
his sons, and began by feeling in the pockets of Amgiad; where he
found a letter, which he opened and read. No sooner did he discover,
not only by the handwriting, but by a small lock of hair which was
within side, that it came from queen Haiatalnefous, than he
absolutely groaned aloud. He then, with trembling hands, examined
those of prince Assad, and finding there the letter of queen
Badoura, his astonishment had such a violent and sudden effect upon
him, that he fainted.
Never did any one show greater signs of grief than did Camaralzaman
when he recovered his senses. “What have you been guilty of, O
barbarous father,” he exclaimed, “you have even destroyed your
own offspring. Innocent sons! could not your sense, your modesty,
your obedience, your entire submission to his wishes, nor even your
virtues, defend you from his rage? Blind misguided parent, do you
think that the earth ought even to bear you after so execrable a
crime? I have brought this abomination on myself; and it is the
punishment which God has inflicted upon me for not persevering in my
hatred against women, which I possessed from my very birth. I will
not, ye detestable women, wash away your crime with your blood; no,
you are not even worthy of my anger: but may heaven itself pour
destruction on my head if ever I see you again!”
The king kept his oath most religiously. He ordered, on the very
same day, the two queens to be each conveyed to a separate
apartment, where they always remained well guarded; and, during the
rest of his life he never went near them.
While Camaralzaman was thus afflicting himself for the loss of the
princes, his sons, of which he was himself the cause by his too
precipitate conduct, the two princes wandered about the most desert
places; endeavouring to avoid every trace of human habitations, for
fear of meeting with any living being. They supported themselves
upon herbs and wild fruits, and drank only bad rain water, which
they found in the excavations and holes of rocks. And when night
approached, they slept only by turns, in order to guard against wild
beasts.
At the end of about a month, they came to the foot of a dreadfully
steep mountain, composed entirely of a sort of black stone, and, as
it appeared to them, quite inaccessible. At. length, however, they
perceived a path; but they found it so narrow and difficult, that
they durst not attempt to pursue it. Through the hopes of
discovering another less rugged and steep, they kept coasting, as it
were, round the foot of the mountain, for about five days. All the
trouble, however, that they took, was to no purpose; and, they were
compelled to return to the same path they had at first neglected. It
appeared to them so absolutely impracticable, that they took a long
time to consult whether they should attempt to ascend it or not.
They, at last, encouraged each other, and began to mount.