Once upon a time a great king of the East, named Saman-lalposh,[2] had
three brave and clever sons—Tahmasp, Qamas, and Almas-ruh-baksh.[3] One
day, when the king was sitting in his hall of audience, his eldest son,
Prince Tahmasp, came before him, and after greeting his father with due
respect, said: “O my royal father! I am tired of the town; if you will
give me leave, I will take my servants to-morrow and will go into the
country and hunt on the hill-skirts; and when I have taken some game I
will come back, at evening-prayer time.” His father consented, and sent
with him some of his own trusted servants, and also hawks, and falcons,
hunting dogs, cheetahs and leopards.
At the place where the prince intended to hunt he saw a most beautiful
deer. He ordered that it should not be killed, but trapped or captured
with a noose. The deer looked about for a place where he might escape
from the ring of the beaters, and spied one unwatched close to the
prince himself. It bounded high and leaped right over his head, got out
of the ring, and tore like the eastern wind into the waste. The prince
put spurs to his horse and pursued it; and was soon lost to the sight
of his followers. Until the world-lighting sun stood above his head in
the zenith he did not take his eyes off the deer; suddenly it
disappeared behind some rising ground, and with all his search he could
not find any further trace of it. He was now drenched in sweat, and he
breathed with pain; and his horse’s tongue hung from its mouth with
thirst. He dismounted and toiled on, with bridle on arm, praying and
casting himself on the mercy of heaven. Then his horse fell and
surrendered its life to God. On and on he went across the sandy waste,
weeping and with burning breast, till at length a hill rose into sight.
He mustered his strength and climbed to the top, and there he found a
giant tree whose foot kept firm the wrinkled earth, and whose crest
touched the very heaven. Its branches had put forth a glory of leaves,
and there were grass and a spring underneath it, and flowers of many
colours.
Gladdened by this sight, he dragged himself to the water’s edge, drank
his fill, and returned thanks for his deliverance from thirst.
He looked about him and, to his amazement, saw close by a royal seat.
While he was pondering what could have brought this into the merciless
desert, a man drew near who was dressed like a faqir, and had bare head
and feet, but walked with the free carriage of a person of rank. His
face was kind, and wise and thoughtful, and he came on and spoke to the
prince.
“O good youth! how did you come here? Who are you? Where do you come
from?”
The prince told everything just as it had happened to him, and then
respectfully added: “I have made known my own circumstances to you, and
now I venture to beg you to tell me your own. Who are you? How did you
come to make your dwelling in this wilderness?”
To this the faqir replied: “O youth! it would be best for you to have
nothing to do with me and to know nothing of my fortunes, for my story
is fit neither for telling nor for hearing.” The prince, however,
pleaded so hard to be told, that at last there was nothing to be done
but to let him hear.
“Learn and know, O young man! that I am King Janangir[4] of Babylon,
and that once I had army and servants, family and treasure; untold
wealth and belongings. The Most High God gave me seven sons who grew up
well versed in all princely arts. My eldest son heard from travellers
that in Turkistan, on the Chinese frontier, there is a king named
Quimus, the son of Timus, and that he has an only child, a daughter
named Mihr-afruz,[5] who, under all the azure heaven, is unrivalled for
beauty. Princes come from all quarters to ask her hand, and on one and
all she imposes a condition. She says to them: ‘I know a riddle; and I
will marry anyone who answers it, and will bestow on him all my
possessions. But if a suitor cannot answer my question I cut off his
head and hang it on the battlements of the citadel.’ The riddle she
asks is, ‘What did the rose do to the cypress?’
“Now, when my son heard this tale, he fell in love with that unseen
girl, and he came to me lamenting and bewailing himself. Nothing that I
could say had the slightest effect on him. I said: ‘Oh my son! if there
must be fruit of this fancy of yours, I will lead forth a great army
against King Quimus. If he will give you his daughter freely, well and
good; and if not, I will ravage his kingdom and bring her away by
force.’ This plan did not please him; he said: ‘It is not right to lay
a kingdom waste and to destroy a palace so that I may attain my desire.
I will go alone; I will answer the riddle, and win her in this way.’ At
last, out of pity for him, I let him go. He reached the city of King
Quimus. He was asked the riddle and could not give the true answer; and
his head was cut off and hung upon the battlements. Then I mourned him
in black raiment for forty days.
After this another and another of my sons were seized by the same
desire, and in the end all my seven sons went, and all were killed. In
grief for their death I have abandoned my throne, and I abide here in
this desert, withholding my hand from all State business and wearing
myself away in sorrow.”
Prince Tahmasp listened to this tale, and then the arrow of love for
that unseen girl struck his heart also. Just at this moment of his
ill-fate his people came up, and gathered round him like moths round a
light. They brought him a horse, fleet as the breeze of the dawn; he
set his willing foot in the stirrup of safety and rode off. As the days
went by the thorn of love rankled in his heart, and he became the very
example of lovers, and grew faint and feeble. At last his confidants
searched his heart and lifted the veil from the face of his love, and
then set the matter before his father, King Saman-lal-posh. “Your son,
Prince Tahmasp, loves distractedly the Princess Mihr-afruz, daughter of
King Quimus, son of Timus.” Then they told the king all about her and
her doings. A mist of sadness clouded the king’s mind, and he said to
his son: “If this thing is so, I will in the first place send a courier
with friendly letters to King Quimus, and will ask the hand of his
daughter for you. I will send an abundance of gifts, and a string of
camels laden with flashing stones and rubies of Badakhsham In this way
I will bring her and her suite, and I will give her to you to be your
solace. But if King Quimus is unwilling to give her to you, I will pour
a whirlwind of soldiers upon him, and I will bring to you, in this way,
that most consequential of girls.” But the prince said that this plan
would not be right, and that he would go himself, and would answer the
riddle. Then the king’s wise men said: “This is a very weighty matter;
it would be best to allow the prince to set out accompanied by some
persons in whom you have confidence. Maybe he will repent and come
back.” So King Saman ordered all preparations for the journey to be
made, and then Prince Tahmasp took his leave and set out, accompanied
by some of the courtiers, and taking with him a string of two-humped
and raven-eyed camels laden with jewels, and gold, and costly stuffs.
By stage after stage, and after many days’ journeying, he arrived at
the city of King Quimus. What did he see? A towering citadel whose foot
kept firm the wrinkled earth, and whose battlements touched the blue
heaven. He saw hanging from its battlements many heads, but it had not
the least effect upon him that these were heads of men of rank; he
listened to no advice about laying aside his fancy, but rode up to the
gate and on into the heart of the city. The place was so splendid that
the eyes of the ages have never seen its like, and there, in an open
square, he found a tent of crimson satin set up, and beneath it two
jewelled drums with jewelled sticks. These drums were put there so that
the suitors of the princess might announce their arrival by beating on
them, after which some one would come and take them to the king’s
presence. The sight of the drums stirred the fire of Prince Tahmasp’s
love. He dismounted, and moved towards them; but his companions hurried
after and begged him first to let them go and announce him to the king,
and said that then, when they had put their possessions in a place of
security, they would enter into the all important matter of the
princess. The prince, however, replied that he was there for one thing
only; that his first duty was to beat the drums and announce himself as
a suitor, when he would be taken, as such, to the king, who would then
give him proper lodgment. So he struck upon the drums, and at once
summoned an officer who took him to King Quimus.
When the king saw how very young the prince looked, and that he was
still drinking of the fountain of wonder, he said: “O youth! leave
aside this fancy which my daughter has conceived in the pride of her
beauty. No one can answer er her riddle, and she has done to death many
men who had had no pleasure in life nor tasted its charms. God forbid
that your spring also should be ravaged by the autumn winds of
martyrdom.” All his urgency, however, had no effect in making the
prince withdraw. At length it was settled between them that three days
should be given to pleasant hospitality and that then should follow
what had to be said and done. Then the prince went to his own quarters
and was treated as became his station.
King Quimus now sent for his daughter and for her mother, Gulrukh,[6]
and talked to them. He said to Mibrafruz: “Listen to me, you cruel
flirt! Why do you persist in this folly? Now there has come to ask your
hand a prince of the east, so handsome that the very sun grows modest
before the splendour of his face; he is rich, and he has brought gold
and jewels, all for you, if you will marry him. A better husband you
will not find.”
But all the arguments of father and mother were wasted, for her only
answer was: “O my father! I have sworn to myself that I will not marry,
even if a thousand years go by, unless someone answers my riddle, and
that I will give myself to that man only who does answer it.”
The three days passed; then the riddle was asked: “What did the rose do
to the cypress?” The prince had an eloquent tongue, which could split a
hair, and without hesitation he replied to her with a verse: “Only the
Omnipotent has knowledge of secrets; if any man says, ‘I know’ do not
believe him.”
Then a servant fetched in the polluted, blue-eyed headsman, who asked:
“Whose sun of life has come near its setting?” took the prince by the
arm, placed him upon the cloth of execution, and then, all merciless
and stony hearted, cut his head from his body and hung it on the
battlements.
The news of the death of Prince Tahmasp plunged his father into despair
and stupefaction. He mourned for him in black raiment for forty days;
and then, a few days later, his second son, Prince Qamas, extracted
from him leave to go too; and he, also, was put to death. One son only
now remained, the brave, eloquent, happy-natured Prince
Almas-ruh-bakhsh. One day, when his father sat brooding over his lost
children, Almas came before him and said: “O father mine! the daughter
of King Quimus has done my two brothers to death; I wish to avenge them
upon her.” These words brought his father to tears. “O light of your
father!” he cried, “I have no one left but you, and now you ask me to
let you go to your death.”
“Dear father!” pleaded the prince, “until I have lowered the pride of
that beauty, and have set her here before you, I cannot settle down or
indeed sit down off my feet.”
In the end he, too, got leave to go; but he went a without a following
and alone. Like his brothers, he made the long journey to the city of
Quimus the son of Timus; like them he saw the citadel, but he saw there
the heads of Tahmasp and Qamas. He went about in the city, saw the tent
and the drums, and then went out again to a village not far off. Here
he found out a very old man who had a wife 120 years old, or rather
more. Their lives were coming to their end, but they had never beheld
face of child of their own. They were glad when the prince came to
their house, and they dealt with him as with a son. He put all his
belongings into their charge, and fastened his horse in their
out-house. Then he asked them not to speak of him to anyone, and to
keep his affairs secret. He exchanged his royal dress for another, and
next morning, just as the sun looked forth from its eastern oratory, he
went again into the city. He turned over in his mind without ceasing
how he was to find out the meaning of the riddle, and to give them a
right answer, and who could help him, and how to avenge his brothers.
He wandered about the city, but heard nothing of service, for there was
no one in all that land who understood the riddle of Princess
Mihr-afruz.
One day he thought he would go to her own palace and see if he could
learn anything there, so he went out to her garden-house. It was a very
splendid place, with a wonderful gateway, and walls like Alexander’s
ramparts. Many gate-keepers were on guard, and there was no chance of
passing them. His heart was full of bitterness, but he said to himself:
“All will be well! it is here I shall get what I want.” He went round
outside the garden wall hoping to find a gap, and he made supplication
in the Court of Supplications and prayed, “O Holder of the hand of the
helpless! show me my way.”
While he prayed he bethought himself that he could get into the garden
with a stream of inflowing water. He looked carefully round, fearing to
be seen, stripped, slid into the stream and was carried within the
great walls. There he hid himself till his loin cloth was dry. The
garden was a very Eden, with running water amongst its lawns, with
flowers and the lament of doves and the jug-jug of nightingales. It was
a place to steal the senses from the brain, and he wandered about and
saw the house, but there seemed to be no one there. In the forecourt
was a royal seat of polished jasper, and in the middle of the platform
was a basin of purest water that flashed like a mirror. He pleased
himself with these sights for a while, and then went back to the garden
and hid himself from the gardeners and passed the night. Next morning
he put on the appearance of a madman and wandered about till he came to
a lawn where several pert-faced girls were amusing themselves. On a
throne, jewelled and overspread with silken stuffs, sat a girl the
splendour of whose beauty lighted up the place, and whose ambergris and
attar perfumed the whole air. “That must be Mihrafruz,” he thought,
“she is indeed lovely.” Just then one of the attendants came to the
water’s edge to fill a cup, and though the prince was in hiding, his
face was reflected in the water. When she saw this image she was
frightened, and let her cup fall into the stream, and thought, “Is it
an angel, or a peri, or a man?” Fear and trembling took hold of her,
and she screamed as women scream. Then some of the other girls came and
took her to the princess who asked: “What is the matter, pretty one?”
“O princess! I went for water, and I saw an image, and I was afraid.”
So another girl went to the water and saw the same thing, and came back
with the same story. The princess wished to see for herself; she rose
and paced to the spot with the march of a prancing peacock. When she
saw the image she said to her nurse: “Find out who is reflected in the
water, and where he lives.” Her words reached the prince’s ear, he
lifted up his head; she saw him and beheld beauty such as she had never
seen before. She lost a hundred hearts to him, and signed to her nurse
to bring him to her presence. The prince let himself be persuaded to go
with the nurse, but when the princess questioned him as to who he was
and how he had got into her garden, he behaved like a man out of his
mind—sometimes smiling, sometimes crying, and saying: “I am hungry,” Or
words misplaced and random, civil mixed with the rude.
“What a pity!” said the princess, “he is mad!” As she liked him she
said: “He is my madman; let no one hurt him.” She took him to her house
and told him not to go away, for that she would provide for all his
wants. The prince thought, “It would be excellent if here, in her very
house, I could get the answer to her riddle; but I must be silent, on
pain of death.”
Now in the princess’s household there was a girl called Dil-aram[7];
she it was who had first seen the image of the prince. She came to love
him very much, and she spent day and night thinking how she could make
her affection known to him. One day she escaped from the princess’s
notice and went to the prince, and laid her head on his feet and said:
“Heaven has bestowed on you beauty and charm. Tell me your secret; who
are you, and how did you come here? I love you very much, and if you
would like to leave this place I will go with you. I have wealth equal
to the treasure of the miserly Qarun.” But the prince only made answer
like a man distraught, and told her nothing. He said to himself, “God
forbid that the veil should be taken in vain from my secret; that would
indeed disgrace me.” So, with streaming eyes and burning breast,
Dil-aram arose and went to her house and lamented and fretted.
Now whenever the princess commanded the prince’s attendance, Dil-aram,
of all the girls, paid him attention and waited on him best. The
princess noticed this, and said: “O Dil-aram! you must take my madman
into your charge and give him whatever he wants.” This was the very
thing Dilaram had prayed for. A little later she took the prince into a
private place and she made him take an oath of secrecy, and she herself
took one and swore, “By Heaven! I will not tell your secret. Tell me
all about yourself so that I may help you to get what you want.” The
prince now recognised in her words the perfume of true love, and he
made compact with her. “O lovely girl! I want to know what the rose did
to the cypress. Your mistress cuts off men’s heads because of this
riddle; what is at the bottom of it, and why does she do it?” Then
Dil-aram answered: “If you will promise to marry me and to keep me
always amongst those you favour, I will tell you all I know, and I will
keep watch about the riddle.”
“O lovely girl,” rejoined he, “if I accomplish my purpose, so that I
need no longer strive for it, I will keep my compact with you. When I
have this woman in my power and have avenged my brothers, I will make
you my solace.”
“O wealth of my life and source of my joy!” responded Dil-aram, “I do
not know what the rose did to the cypress; but so much I know that the
person who told Mihr-afruz about it is a negro whom she hides under her
throne. He fled here from Waq of the Caucasus—it is there you must make
inquiry; there is no other way of getting at the truth.“On hearing
these words, the prince said to his heart, “O my heart! your task will
yet wear away much of your life.”
He fell into long and far thought, and Dil-aram looked at him and said:
“O my life and my soul! do not be sad. If you would like this woman
killed, I will put poison into her cup so that she will never lift her
head from her drugged sleep again.”
“O Dil-aram! such a vengeance is not manly. I shall not rest till I
have gone to Waq of the Caucasus and have cleared up the matter.” Then
they repeated the agreement about their marriage, and bade one another
goodbye.
The prince now went back to the village, and told the old man that he
was setting out on a long journey, and begged him not to be anxious,
and to keep safe the goods which had been entrusted to him.
The prince had not the least knowledge of the way to Waq of the
Caucasus, and was cast down by the sense of his helplessness. He was
walking along by his horse’s side when there appeared before him an old
man of serene countenance, dressed in green and carrying a staff, who
resembled Khizr.[8] The prince thanked heaven, laid the hands of
reverence on his breast and salaamed. The old man returned the greeting
graciously, and asked: “How fare you? Whither are you bound? You look
like a traveller.”
“O revered saint! I am in this difficulty: I do not know the way to Waq
of the Caucasus.” The old man of good counsel looked at the young
prince and said: “Turn back from this dangerous undertaking. Do not go;
choose some other task! If you had a hundred lives you would not bring
one out safe from this journey.” But his words had no effect on the
prince’s resolve. “What object have you,” the old man asked, “in thus
consuming your life?”
“I have an important piece of business to do, and only this journey
makes it possible. I must go; I pray you, ill God’s name, tell me the
way.”
When the saint saw that the prince was not to be moved, he said: “Learn
and know, O youth! that Waq of Qaf is in the Caucasus and is a
dependency of it. In it there are jins, demons, and peris. You must go
on along this road till it forks into three; take neither the right
hand nor the left, but the middle path. Follow this for a day and a
night. Then you will come to a column on which is a marble slab
inscribed with Cufic characters. Do what is written there; beware of
disobedience.” Then he gave his good wishes for the journey and his
blessing, and the prince kissed his feet, said good-bye, and, with
thanks to the Causer of Causes, took the road.
After a day and a night he saw the column rise in silent beauty to the
heavens. Everything was as the wise old man had said it would be, and
the prince, who was skilled in all tongues, read the following Cufic
inscription: “O travellers! be it known to you that this column has
been set up with its tablet to give true directions about these roads.
If a man would pass his life in ease and pleasantness, let him take the
right-hand path. If he take the left, he will have some trouble, but he
will reach his goal without much delay. Woe to him who chooses the
middle path! if he had a thousand lives he would not save one; it is
very hazardous; it leads to the Caucasus, and is an endless road.
Beware of it!”
The prince read and bared his head and lifted his hands in supplication
to Him who has no needs, and prayed, “O Friend of the traveller! I, Thy
servant, come to Thee for succour. My purpose lies in the land of Qaf
and my road is full of peril. Lead me by it.” Then he took a handful of
earth and cast it on his collar, and said: “O earth! be thou my grave;
and O vest! tee thou my winding-sheet!” Then he took the middle road
and went along it, day after day, with many a silent prayer, till he
saw trees rise from the weary waste of sand. They grew in a garden, and
he went up to the gate and found it a slab of beautifully worked
marble, and that near it there lay sleeping, with his head on a stone,
a negro whose face was so black that it made darkness round him. His
upper lip, arched like an eyebrow, curved upwards to his nostrils and
his lower hung down like a camel’s. Four millstones formed his shield,
and on a box-tree close by hung his giant sword. His loin-cloth was
fashioned of twelve skins of beasts, and was bound round his waist by a
chain of which each link was as big as an elephant’s thigh.
The prince approached and tied up his horse near the negro’s head. Then
he let fall the Bismillah from his lips, entered the garden and walked
through it till he came to the private part, delighting in the great
trees, the lovely verdure, and the flowery borders. In the inner garden
there were very many deer. These signed to him with eye and foot to go
back, for that this was enchanted ground; but he did not understand
them, and thought their pretty gestures were a welcome. After a while
he reached a palace which had a porch more splendid than Caesar’s, and
was built of gold and silver bricks. In its midst was a high seat,
overlaid with fine carpets, and into it opened eight doors, each having
opposite to it a marble basin.
Banishing care, Prince Almas walked on through the garden, when
suddenly a window opened and a girl, who was lovely enough to make the
moon writhe with jealousy, put out her head. She lost her heart to the
good looks of the prince, and sent her nurse to fetch him so that she
might learn where he came from and how he had got into her private
garden where even lions and wolves did not venture. The nurse went, and
was struck with amazement at the sun-like radiance of his face; she
salaamed and said: “O youth! welcome! the lady of the garden calls you;
come!” He went with her and into a palace which was like a house in
Paradise, and saw seated on the royal carpets of the throne a girl
whose brilliance shamed the shining sun. He salaamed; she rose, took
him by the hand and placed him near her. “O young man! who are you?
Where do you come from? How did you get into this garden?” He told her
his story from beginning to end, and Lady Latifa[9] replied: “This is
folly! It will make you a vagabond of the earth, and lead you to
destruction. Come, cease such talk! No one can go to the Caucasus. Stay
with me and be thankful, for here is a throne which you can share with
me, and in my society you can enjoy my wealth. I will do whatever you
wish; I will bring here King Qulmus and his daughter, and you can deal
with them as you will.”
“O Lady Latifa,” he said, “I have made a compact with heaven not to sit
down off my feet till I have been to Waq of Qaf and have cleared up
this matter, and have taken Mihrafruz from her father, as brave men
take, and have put her in prison. When I have done all this I will come
back to you in state and with a great following, and I will marry you
according to the law.” Lady Latifa argued and urged her wishes, but in
vain; the prince was not to be moved. Then she called to the cupbearers
for new wine, for she thought that when his head was hot with it he
might consent to stay. The pure, clear wine was brought; she filled a
cup and gave to him. He said: “O most enchanting sweetheart! it is the
rule for the host to drink first and then the guest.” So to make him
lose his head, she drained the cup; then filled it again and gave him.
He drank it off, and she took a lute from one of the singers and played
upon it with skill which witched away the sense of all who heard. But
it was all in vain; three days passed in such festivities, and on the
fourth the prince said: “O joy of my eyes! I beg now that you will bid
me farewell, for my way is long and the fire of your love darts flame
into the harvest of my heart. By heaven’s grace I may accomplish my
purpose, and, if so, I will come back to you.”
Now she saw that she could not in any way change his resolve, she told
her nurse to bring a certain casket which contained, she said,
something exhilarating which would help the prince on his journey. The
box was brought, and she divided off a portion of what was within and
gave it to the prince to eat. Then, and while he was all unaware, she
put forth her hand to a stick fashioned like a snake; she said some
words over it and struck him so sharply on the shoulder that he cried
out; then he made a pirouette and found that he was a deer.
When he knew what had been done to him he thought, “All the threads of
affliction are gathered together; I have lost my last chance!” He tried
to escape, but the magician sent for her goldsmith, who, coming,
overlaid the deer-horns with gold and jewels. The kerchief which that
day she had had in her hand was then tied round its neck, and this
freed it from her attentions.
The prince-deer now bounded into the garden and at once sought some way
of escape. It found none, and it joined the other deer, which soon made
it their leader. Now, although the prince had been transformed into the
form of a deer, he kept his man’s heart and mind. He said to himself,
“Thank heaven that the Lady Latifa has changed me into this shape, for
at least deer are beautiful.” He remained for some time living as a
deer amongst the rest, but at length resolved that an end to such a
life must be put ill some way. He looked again for some place by which
he could get out of the magic garden. Following round the wall he
reached a lower part; he remembered the Divine Names and flung himself
over, saying, “Whatever happens is by the will of God.” When he looked
about he found that he was in the very same place he had jumped from;
there was the palace, there the garden and the deer! Eight times he
leaped over the wall and eight times found himself where he had started
from; but after the ninth leap there was a change, there was a palace
and there was a garden, but the deer were gone.
Presently a girl of such moon-like beauty opened a window that the
prince lost to her a hundred hearts. She was delighted with the
beautiful deer, and cried to her nurse: “Catch it! if you will I will
give you this necklace, every pearl of which is worth a kingdom.” The
nurse coveted the pearls, but as she was three hundred years old she
did not know how she could catch a deer. However, she went down into
the garden and held out some grass, but when she went near the creature
ran away. The girl watched with great excitement from the palace
window, and called: “O nurse, if you don’t catch it, I will kill you!”
“I am killing myself,” shouted back the old woman. The girl saw that
nurse tottering along and went down to help, marching with the gait of
a prancing peacock. When she saw the gilded horns and the kerchief she
said: “It must be accustomed to the hand, and be some royal pet!” The
prince had it in mind that this might be another magician who could
give him some other shape, but still it seemed best to allow himself to
be caught. So he played about the girl and let her catch him by the
neck. A leash was brought, fruits were given, and it was caressed with
delight. It was taken to the palace and tied at the foot of the Lady
Jamila’s raised seat, but she ordered a longer cord to be brought so
that it might be able to jump up beside her.
When the nurse went to fix the cord she saw tears falling from its
eyes, and that it was dejected and sorrowful “O Lady Jamila! this is a
wonderful deer, it is crying; I never saw a deer cry before.” Jamila
darted down like a flash of lightning, and saw that it was so. It
rubbed its head on her feet and then shook it so sadly that the girl
cried for sympathy. She patted it and said: “Why are you sad, my heart?
Why do you cry, my soul? Is it because I have caught you? I love you
better than my own life.” But, spite of her comforting, it cried the
more. Then Jamila said: “Unless I am mistaken, this is the work of my
wicked sister Latifa, who by magic art turns servants of God into
beasts of the field.” At these words the deer uttered sounds, and laid
its head on her feet. Then Jamila was sure it was a man, and said: “Be
comforted, I will restore you to your own shape.” She bathed herself
and ordered the deer to be bathed, put on clean raiment, called for a
box which stood in an alcove, opened it and gave a portion of what was
in it to the deer to eat. Then she slipped her hand under her carpet
and produced a stick to which she said something. She struck the deer
hard, it pirouetted and became Prince Almas.
The broidered kerchief and the jewels lay upon the ground. The prince
prostrated himself in thanks to heaven and Jamila, and said: “O
delicious person! O Chinese Venus! how shall I excuse myself for giving
you so much trouble? With what words can I thank you?” Then she called
for a clothes-wallet and chose out a royal dress of honour. Her
attendants dressed him in it, and brought him again before the
tender-hearted lady. She turned to him a hundred hearts, took his hand
and seated him beside her, and said: “O youth! tell me truly who you
are and where you come from, and how you fell into the power of my
sister.”
Even when he was a deer the prince had much admired Jamila now he
thought her a thousand times more lovely than before. He judged that in
truth alone was safety, and so told her his whole story. Then she
asked: “O Prince Almas-ruh-bakhsh, do you still wish so much to make
this journey to Waq of Qaf? What hope is there in it? The road is
dangerous even near here, and this is not yet the borderland of the
Caucasus. Come, give it up! It is a great risk, and to go is not wise.
It would be a pity for a man like you to fall into the hands of jins
and demons. Stay with me, and I will do whatever you wish.”
“O most delicious person!” he answered, “you are very generous, and the
choice of my life lies in truth in your hands; but I beg one favour of
you. If you love me, so do I too love you. If you really love me, do
not forbid me to make this journey, but help me as far as you can. Then
it may be that I shall succeed, and if I return with my purpose
fulfilled I will marry you according to the law, and take you to my own
country, and we will spend the rest of our lives together in pleasure
and good companionship. Help me, if you can, and give me your counsel.”
“O very stuff of my life,” replied Jamila “I will give you things that
are not in kings’ treasuries, and which will be of the greatest use to
you. First, there are the bow and arrows of his Reverence the Prophet
Salih. Secondly, there is the Scorpion of Solomon (on whom be peace),
which is a sword such as no king has; steel and stone are one to it; if
you bring it down on a rock it will not be injured, and it will cleave
whatever you strike. Thirdly, there is the dagger which the sage Timus
himself made; this is most useful, and the man who wears it would not
bend under seven camels’ loads. What you have to do first is to get to
the home of the Simurgh,[10] and to make friends with him. If he
favours you, he will take you to Waq of Qaf; if not, you will never get
there, for seven seas are on the way, and they are such seas that if
all the kings of the earth, and all their wazirs, and all their wise
men considered for a thousand years, they would not be able to cross
them.”
“O most delicious person! where is the Simurgh’s home? How shall I get
there?”
“O new fruit of life! you must just do what I tell you, and you must
use your eyes and your brains, for if you don’t you will find yourself
at the place of the negroes, who are a bloodthirsty set; and God forbid
they should lay hands on your precious person.”
Then she took the bow and quiver of arrows, the sword, and the dagger
out of a box, and the prince let fall a Bismillah, and girt them all
on. Then Jamila of the houri-face, produced two saddle-bags of ruby-red
silk, one filled with roasted fowl and little cakes, and the other with
stones of price. Next she gave him a horse as swift as the breeze of
the morning, and she said: “Accept all these things from me; ride till
you come to a rising ground, at no great distance from here, where
there is a spring. It is called the Place of Gifts, and you must stay
there one night. There you will see many wild beasts—lions, tigers,
leopards, apes, and so on. Before you get there you must capture some
game. On the long road beyond there dwells a lion-king, alla if other
beasts did not fear him they would ravage the whole country and let no
one pass. The lion is a red transgressor, so when he comes rise and do
him reverence; take a cloth and rub the dust and earth from his face,
then set the game you have taken before him, well cleansed, and lay the
hands of respect on your breast. When he wishes to eat, take your knife
and cut pieces of the meat and set them before him with a bow. In this
way you will enfold that lion-king in perfect friendship, and he will
be most useful to you, and you will be safe from molestation by the
negroes. When you go on from the Place of Gifts, be sure you do not
take the right-hand road; take the left, for the other leads by the
negro castle, which is known as the Place of Clashing Swords, and where
there are forty negro captains each over three thousand or four
thousand more. Their chief is Taramtaq.[11] Further on than this is the
home of the Simurgh.”
Having stored these things in the prince’s memory, she said: “You will
see everything happen just as I have said.” Then she escorted him a
little way; they parted, and she went home to mourn his absence.
Prince Almas, relying on the Causer of Causes, rode on to the Place of
Gifts and dismounted at the platform. Everything happened just as
Jamila had foretold; when one or two watches of the night had passed,
he saw that the open ground around him was full of such stately and
splendid animals as he had never seen before. By-and-by, they made way
for a wonderfully big lion, which was eighty yards from nose to
tail-tip, and was a magnificent creature. The prince advanced and
saluted it; it proudly drooped its head and forelocks and paced to the
platform. Seventy or eighty others were with it, and now encircled it
at a little distance. It laid its right paw over its left, and the
prince took the kerchief Jamila had given him for the purpose, and
rubbed the dust and earth from its face; then brought forward the game
he had prepared, and crossing his hands respectfully on his breast
stood waiting before it. When it wished for food he cut off pieces of
the meat and put them in its mouth. The serving lions also came near
and the prince would have stayed his hand, but the king-lion signed to
him to feed them too. This he did, laying the meat on the platform.
Then the king-lion beckoned the prince to come near and said: “Sleep at
ease; my guards will watch.”. So, surrounded by the lion-guard, he
slept till dawn, when the king lion said good-bye, and gave him a few
of his own hairs and said: “When you are in any difficulty, burn one of
these and I will be there.” Then it went off into the jungle.
Prince Almas immediately started; he rode till he came to the parting
of the ways. He remembered quite well that the right-hand way was short
and dangerous, but he bethought himself too that whatever was written
on his forehead would happen, and took the forbidden road. By-and-by he
saw a castle, and knew from what Jamila had told him that it was the
Place of Clashing Swords. He would have liked to go back by the way ho
had come, but courage forbade, and he said, “What has been preordained
from eternity will happen to me,” and went on towards the castle. He
was thinking of tying his horse to a tree which grew near the gate when
a negro came out and spied him. “Ha!” said the wretch to himself, “this
is good; Taram-taq has not eaten man-meat for a long time, and is
craving for some. I will take this creature to him.” He took hold of
the prince’s reins, and said: “Dismount, man-child! Come to my master.
He has wanted to eat man-meat this long time back.” “What nonsense are
you saying?” said the prince, and other such words. When the negro
understood that he was being abused, he cried: “Come along! I will put
you into such a state that the birds of the air will weep for you.”
Then the prince drew the Scorpion of Solomon and struck him—struck him
on the leathern belt and shore him through so that the sword came out
on the other side. He stood upright for a little while, muttered some
words, put out his hand to seize the prince, then fell in two and
surrendered his life.
There was water close at hand, and the prince made his ablution, and
then said: “O my heart! a wonderful task lies upon you.” A second negro
came out of the fort, and seeing what had been done, went back and told
his chief. Others wished to be doubled, and went out, and of every one
the Scorpion of Solomon made two. Then Taram-taq sent for a giant negro
named Chil-maq, who in the day of battle was worth three hundred, and
said to him: “I shall thank you to fetch me that man.”
Chil-maq went out, tall as a tower, and bearing a shield of eight
millstones, and as he walked he shouted: “Ho! blunder-head! by what
right do you come to our country and kill our people? Come! make two of
me.” As the prince was despicable in his eyes, he tossed aside his club
and rushed to grip him with his hands. He caught him by the collar,
tucked him under his arm and set off with him to Taram-taq. But the
prince drew the dagger of Timus and thrust it upwards through the
giant’s armpit, for its full length. This made Chil-maq drop him and
try to pick up his club; but when he stooped the mighty sword shore him
through at the waist.
When news of his champion’s death reached Taram-taq he put himself at
the head of an army of his negroes and led them forth. Many fell before
the magic sword, and the prince laboured on in spite of weakness and
fatigue till he was almost worn out. In a moment of respite from attack
he struck his fire-steel and burned a hair of the king-lion; and he had
just succeeded in this when the negroes charged again and all but took
him prisoner. Suddenly from behind the distant veil of the desert
appeared an army of lions led by their king. “What brings these
scourges of heaven here?” cried the negroes. They came roaring up, and
put fresh life into the prince. He fought on, and when he struck on a
belt the wearer fell in two, and when on a head he cleft to the waist.
Then the ten thousand mighty lions joined the fray and tore in pieces
man and horse.
Taram-taq was left alone; he would have retired into his fort, but the
prince shouted: “Whither away, accursed one? Are you fleeing before
me?” At these defiant words the chief shouted back, “Welcome, man! Come
here and I will soften you to wax beneath my club.” Then he hurled his
club at the prince’s head, but it fell harmless because the prince had
quickly spurred his horse forward. The chief, believing he had hit him,
was looking down for him, when all at once he came up behind and cleft
him to the waist and sent him straight to hell.
The king-lion greatly praised the dashing courage of Prince Almas. They
went together into the Castle of Clashing Swords and found it adorned
and fitted in princely fashion. In it was a daughter of Taram taq,
still a child She sent a message to Prince Almas saying, “O king of the
world! choose this slave to be your handmaid. Keep her with you; where
you go, there she will go!” He sent for her and she kissed his feet and
received the Mussulman faith at his hands. He told her he was going a
long journey on important business, and that when he came back he would
take her and her possessions to his own country, but that for the
present she must stay in the castle. Then he made over the fort and all
that was in it to the care of the lion, saying: “Guard them, brother!
let no one lay a hand on them.” He said goodbye, chose a fresh horse
from the chief’s stable and once again took the road.
After travelling many stages and for many days, he reached a plain of
marvellous beauty and refreshment. It was carpeted with flowers—roses,
tulips, and clover; it had lovely lawns, and amongst them running
water. This choicest place of earth filled him with wonder. There was a
tree such as he had never seen before; its branches were alike, but it
bore flowers and fruit of a thousand kinds. Near it a reservoir had
been fashioned of four sorts of stone—touchstone, pure stone, marble,
and loadstone. In and out of it flowed water like attar. The prince
felt sure this must be the place of the Simurgh.” he dismounted, turned
his horse loose to graze, ate some of the food Jamila had given him,
drank of the stream and lay down to sleep.
He was still dozing when he was aroused by the neighing and pawing of
his horse. When he could see clearly he made out a mountain-like dragon
whose heavy breast crushed the stones beneath it into putty. He
remembered the Thousand Names of God and took the bow of Salih from its
case and three arrows from their quiver. He bound the dagger of Timus
firmly to his waist and hung the scorpion of Solomon round his neck.
Then he set an arrow on the string and released it with such force that
it went in at the monster’s eye right up to the notch. The dragon
writhed on itself, and belched forth an evil vapour, and beat the
ground with its head till the earth quaked. Then the prince took a
second arrow and shot into its throat. It drew in its breath and would
have sucked the prince into its maw, but when he was within striking
distance he drew his sword and, having committed himself to God, struck
a mighty blow which cut the creature’s neck down to the gullet. The
foul vapour of the beast and horror at its strangeness now overcame the
prince, and he fainted. When he came to himself he found that he was
drenched in the gore of the dead monster. He rose and thanked God for
his deliverance.
The nest of the Simurgh was in the wonderful tree above him, and in it
were young birds; the parents were away searching for food. They always
told the children, before they left them, not to put their heads out of
the nest; but, to-day, at the noise of the fight below, they looked
down and so saw the whole affair. By the time the dragon had been
killed they were very hungry and set up a clamour for food. The prince
therefore cut up the dragon and fed them with it, bit by bit, till they
had eaten the whole. He then washed himself and lay down to rest, and
he was still asleep when the Simurgh came home. As a rule, the young
birds raised a clamour of welcome when their parents came near, but on
this day they were so full of dragon-meat that they had no choice, they
had to go to sleep.
As they flew nearer, the old birds saw the prince lying under the tree
and no sign of life in the nest. They thought that the misfortune which
for so many earlier years had befallen them had again happened and that
their nestlings had disappeared. They had never been able to find out
the murderer, and now suspected the prince. “He has eaten our children
and sleeps after it; he must die,” said the father-bird, and flew back
to the hills and clawed up a huge stone which he meant to let fall on
the prince’s head. But his mate said, “Let us look into the nest first
for to kill an innocent person would condemn us at the Day of
Resurrection.” They flew nearer, and presently the young birds woke and
cried, “Mother, what have you brought for us?” and they told the whole
story of the fight, and of how they were alive only by the favour of
the young man under the tree, and of his cutting up the dragon and of
their eating it. The mother-bird then remarked, “Truly, father! you
were about to do a strange thing, and a terrible sin has been averted
from you.” Then the Simurgh flew off to a distance with the great stone
and dropped it. It sank down to the very middle of the earth.
Coming back, the Simurgh saw that a little sunshine fell upon the
prince through the leaves, and it spread its wings and shaded him till
he woke. When he got up he salaamed to it, who returned his greeting
with joy and gratitude, and caressed him and said: “O youth, tell me
true! who are you, and where are you going? And how did you cross that
pitiless desert where never yet foot of man had trod?” The prince told
his story from beginning to end, and finished by saying: “Now it is my
heart’s wish that you should help me to get to Waq of the Caucasus.
Perhaps, by your favour, I shall accomplish my task and avenge my
brothers.” In reply the Simurgh.” first blessed the deliverer of his
children, and then went on: “What you have done no child of man has
ever done before; you assuredly have a claim on all my help, for every
year up till now that dragon has come here and has destroyed my
nestlings, and I have never been able to find who was the murderer and
to avenge myself. By God’s grace you have removed my children’s
powerful foe. I regard you as a child of my own. Stay with me; I will
give you everything you desire, and I will establish a city here for
you, and will furnish it with every requisite; I will give you the land
of the Caucasus, and will make its princes subject to you. Give up the
journey to Waq, it is full of risk, and the jins there will certainly
kill you.” But nothing could move the prince, and seeing this the bird
went on: “Well, so be it! When you wish to set forth you must go into
the plain and take seven head of deer, and must make water-tight bags
of their hides and keep their flesh in seven portions. Seven seas lie
on our way—I will carry you over them; but if I have not food and drink
we shall fall into the sea and be drowned. When I ask for it you must
put food and water into my mouth. So we shall make the journey safely.”
The prince did all as he was told, then they took flight; they crossed
the seven seas, and at each one the prince fed the Simurgh When they
alighted on the shore of the last sea, it said: “O my son! there lies
your road; follow it to the city. Take thee three feathers of mine,
and, if you are in a difficulty, burn one and I will be with you in the
twinkling of an eye.”
The prince walked on in solitude till he reached the city. He went in
and wandered about through all quarters, and through bazaars and lanes
and squares, in the least knowing from whom he could ask information
about the riddle of Mihr-afruz. He spent seven days thinking it over in
silence. From the first day of his coming he had made friends with a
young cloth-merchant, and a great liking had sprung up between them.
One day he said abruptly to his companion: “O dear friend! I wish you
would tell me what the rose did to the cypress, and what the sense of
the riddle is.” The merchant started, and exclaimed: “If there were not
brotherly affection between us, I would cut off your head for asking me
this!” “If you meant to kill me,” retorted the prince, “you would still
have first to tell me what I want to know.” When the merchant saw that
the prince was in deadly earnest, he said: “If you wish to hear the
truth of the matter you must wait upon our king. There is no other way;
no one else will tell you. I have a well-wisher at the Court, named
Farrukh-fal,[12] and will introduce you to him.” “That would be
excellent,” cried the prince. A meeting was arranged between Farrukhfal
and Almas, and then the amir took him to the king’s presence and
introduced him as a stranger and traveller who had come from afar to
sit in the shadow of King Sinaubar.
Now the Simurgh had given the prince a diamond weighing thirty misqals,
and he ordered this to the king, who at once recognised its value, and
asked where it had been obtained. “I, your slave, once had riches and
state and power; there are many such stones in my country. On my way
here I was plundered at the Castle of Clashing Swords, and I saved this
one thing only, hidden in my bathing-cloth.” In return for the diamond,
King Sinaubar showered gifts of much greater value, for he remembered
that it was the last possession of the prince. He showed the utmost
kindness and hospitality, and gave his wazir orders to instal the
prince in the royal guest-house. He took much pleasure in his visitor’s
society; they were together every day and spent the time most
pleasantly. Several times the king said: “Ask me for something, that I
may give it you.“One day he so pressed to know what would pleasure the
prince, that the latter said: “I have only one wish, and that I will
name to you in private.” The king at once commanded every one to
withdraw, and then Prince Almas said: “The desire of my life is to know
what the rose did to the cypress, and what meaning there is in the
words.” The king was astounded. “In God’s name! if anyone else had said
that to me I should have cut off his head instantly.” The prince heard
this in silence, and presently so beguiled the king with pleasant talk
that to kill him was impossible.
Time flew by, the king again and again begged the prince to ask some
gift of him, and always received this same reply: “I wish for your
Majesty’s welfare, what more can I desire?” One night there was a
banquet, and cupbearers carried round gold and silver cups of sparkling
wine, and singers with sweetest voices contended for the prize. The
prince drank from the king’s own cup, and when his head was hot with
wine he took a lute from one of the musicians and placed himself on the
carpet border and sang and sang till he witched away the sense of all
who listened. Applause and compliments rang from every side. The king
filled his cup and called the prince and gave it him and said: “Name
your wish! it is yours.” The prince drained off the wine and answered:
“O king of the world! learn and know that I have only one aim in life,
and this is to know what the rose did to the cypress.”
“Never yet,” replied the king, “has any man come out from that question
alive. If this is your only wish, so be it; I will tell you. But I will
do this on one condition only, namely, that when you have heard you
will submit yourself to death.” To this the prince agreed, and said: “I
set my foot firmly on this compact.”
The king then gave an order to an attendant; a costly carpet overlaid
with European velvet was placed near him, and a dog was led in by a
golden and jewelled chain and set upon the splendid stuffs. A band of
fair girls came in and stood round it in waiting.
Then, with ill words, twelve negroes dragged in a lovely woman,
fettered on hands and feet and meanly dressed, and they set her down on
the bare floor. She was extraordinarily beautiful, and shamed the
glorious sun. The king ordered a hundred stripes to be laid on her
tender body; she sighed a long sigh. Food was called for and
table-cloths were spread. Delicate meats were set before the dog, and
water given it in a royal cup of Chinese crystal. When it had eaten its
fill, its leavings were placed before the lovely woman and she was made
to eat of them. She wept and her tears were pearls; she smiled and her
lips shed roses. Pearls and flowers were gathered up and taken to the
treasury.
“Now,” said the king, “you have seen these things and your purpose is
fulfilled.” “Truly,” said the prince, “I have seen things which I have
not understood; what do they mean, and what is the story of them? Tell
me and kill me.”
Then said the king: “The woman you see there in chains is my wife; she
is called Gul, the Rose, and I am Sinaubar, the Cypress. One day I was
hunting and became very thirsty. After great search I discovered a well
in a place so secret that neither bird nor beast nor man could find it
without labour. I was alone, I took my turban for a rope and my cap for
a bucket. There was a good deal of water, but when I let down my rope,
something caught it, and I could not in any way draw it back. I shouted
down into the well: ‘O! servant of God! whoever you are, why do you
deal unfairly with me? I am dying of thirst, let go! in God’s name.’ A
cry came up in answer, ‘O servant of God! we have been in the well a
long time; in God’s name get us out!’ After trying a thousand schemes,
I drew up two blind women. They said they were peris, and that their
king had blinded them in his anger and had left them in the well alone.
“‘Now,’ they said, ‘if you will get us the cure for our blindness we
will devote ourselves to your service, and will do whatever you wish.’
“‘What is the cure for your blindness?’
“‘Not far from this place,’ they said, ‘a cow comes up from the great
sea to graze; a little of her dung would cure us. We should be
eternally your debtors. Do not let the cow see you, or she will
assuredly kill you.’
“With renewed strength and spirit I went to the shore. There I watched
the cow come up from the sea, graze, and go back. Then I came out of my
hiding, took a little of her dung and conveyed it to the peris. They
rubbed it on their eyes, and by the Divine might saw again.
“They thanked heaven and me, and then considered what they could do to
show their gratitude to me. ‘Our peri-king,’ they said, ‘has a daughter
whom he keeps under his own eye and thinks the most lovely girl on
earth. In good sooth, she has not her equal! Now we will get you into
her house and you must win her heart, and if she has an inclination for
another, you must drive it out and win her for yourself. Her mother
loves her so dearly that she has no ease but in her presence, and she
will give her to no one in marriage. Teach her to love you so that she
cannot exist without you. But if the matter becomes known to her mother
she will have you burned in the fire. Then you must beg, as a last
favour, that your body may be anointed with oil so that you may burn
the more quickly and be spared torture. If the peri-king allows this
favour, we two will manage to be your anointers, and we will put an oil
on you such that if you were a thousand years in the fire not a trace
of burning would remain.’
“In the end the two peris took me to the girl’s house. I saw her
sleeping daintily. She was most lovely, and I was so amazed at the
perfection of her beauty that I stood with senses lost, and did not
know if she were real or a dream. When at last I saw that she was a
real girl, I returned thanks that I, the runner, had come to my goal,
and that I, the seeker, had found my treasure.
“When the peri opened her eyes she asked in affright: ‘Who are you?
Have you come to steal? How did you get here? Be quick! save yourself
from this whirlpool of destruction, for the demons and peris. who guard
me will wake and seize you.’
“But love’s arrow had struck me deep, and the girl, too, looked kindly
on me. I could not go away. For some months I remained hidden in her
house. “We did not dare to let her mother know of our love. Sometimes
the girl was very sad and fearful lest her mother should come to know.
One day her father said to her: ‘Sweetheart, for some time I have
noticed that your beauty is not what it was. How is this? Has sickness
touched you? Tell me that I may seek a cure.’ Alas! there was now no
way of concealing the mingled delight and anguish of our love; from
secret it became known. I was put in prison and the world grew dark to
my rose, bereft of her lover.
“The peri-king ordered me to be burnt, and said: ‘Why have you, a man,
done this perfidious thing in my house?’ His demons and peris.
collected amber-wood and made a pile, and would have set me on it, when
I remembered the word of life which the two peris. I had rescued had
breathed into my ear, and I asked that my body might be rubbed with oil
to release me the sooner from torture. This was allowed, and those two
contrived to be the anointers. I was put into the fire and it was kept
up for seven days and nights. By the will of the Great King it left no
trace upon me. At the end of a week the pert-king ordered the ashes to
be cast upon the dust-heap, and I was found alive and unharmed.
“Peris who had seen Gul consumed by her love for me now interceded with
the king, and said: ‘It is clear that your daughter’s fortunes are
bound up with his, for the fire has not hurt him. It is best to give
him the girl, for they love one another. He is King of Waq of Qaf, and
you will find none better.’
“To this the king agreed, and made formal marriage between Gul and me.
You now know the price I paid for this faithless creature. O prince!
remember our compact.”
“I remember,” said the prince; “but tell me what brought Queen Gul to
her present pass?”
“One night,” continued King Sinaubar, “I was aroused by feeling Gul’s
hands and feet, deadly cold, against my body. I asked her where she had
been to get so cold, and she said she had had to go out. Next morning,
when I went to my stable I saw that two of my horses, Windfoot and
Tiger, were thin and worn out. I reprimanded the groom and beat him. He
asked where his fault lay, and said that every night my wife took one
or other of these horses and rode away, and came back only just before
dawn. A flame kindled in my heart, and I asked myself where she could
go and what she could do. I told the groom to be silent, and when next
Gul took a horse from the stable to saddle another quickly and bring it
to me. That day I did not hunt, but stayed at home to follow the matter
up. I lay down as usual at night and pretended to fall asleep. When I
seemed safely off Gul got up and went to the stable as her custom was.
That night it was Tiger’s turn. She rode off on him, and I took
Windfoot and followed. With me went that dog you see, a faithful friend
who never left me.
“When I came to the foot of those hills which lie outside the city I
saw Gul dismount and go towards a house which some negroes have built
there. Over against the door was a high seat, and on it lay a giant
negro, before whom she salaamed. He got up and beat her till she was
marked with weals, but she uttered no complaint. I was dumfounded, for
once when I had struck her with a rose stalk she had complained and
fretted for three days! Then the negro said to her: ‘How now, ugly one
and shaven head! Why are you so late, and why are you not wearing
wedding garments?’ She answered him: ‘That person did not go to sleep
quickly, and he stayed at home all day, so that I was not able to adorn
myself. I came as soon as I could.’ In a little while he called her to
sit beside him; but this was more than I could bear. I lost control of
myself and rushed upon him. He clutched my collar and we grappled in a
death struggle. Suddenly she came behind me, caught my feet and threw
me. While he held me on the ground, she drew out my own knife and gave
it to him. I should have been killed but for that faithful dog which
seized his throat and pulled him down and pinned him to the ground.
Then I got up and despatched the wretch. There were four other negroes
at the place; three I killed and the fourth got away, and has taken
refuge beneath the throne of Mihr-afruz, daughter of King Quimus. I
took Gul back to my palace, and from that time till now I have treated
her as a dog is treated, and I have cared for my dog as though it were
my wife. Now you know what the rose did to the cypress; and now you
must keep compact with me.”
“I shall keep my word,” said the prince; “but may a little water be
taken to the roof so that I may make my last ablution?”
To this request the king consented. The prince mounted to the roof,
and, getting into a corner, struck his fire-steel and burned one of the
Sirurgh’s feathers in the flame. Straightway it appeared, and by the
majesty of its presence made the city quake. It took the prince on its
back and soared away to the zenith.
After a time King Sinaubar said: “That young man is a long time on the
roof; go and bring him here.” But there was no sign of the prince upon
the roof; only, far away in the sky, the Simurgh was seen carrying him
off. When the king heard of his escape he thanked heaven that his hands
were clean of this blood.
Up and up flew the Simurgh, till earth looked like an egg resting on an
ocean. At length it dropped straight down to its own place, where the
kind prince was welcomed by the young birds and most hospitably
entertained. He told the whole story of the rose and the cypress, and
then, laden with gifts which the Simurgh had gathered from cities far
and near, he set his face for the Castle of Clashing Swords. The
king-lion came out to meet him; he took the negro chief’s
daughter—-whose name was also Gul—in lawful marriage, and then marched
with her and her possessions and her attendants to the Place of Gifts.
Here they halted for a night, and at dawn said good-bye to the
king-lion and set out for Jamila’s country.
When the Lady Jamila heard that Prince Almas was near, she went out,
with many a fair handmaid, to give him loving reception. Their meeting
was joyful, and they went together to the garden-palace. Jamila
summoned all her notables, and in their presence her marriage with the
prince was solemnised. A few days later she entrusted her affairs to
her wazir, and made preparation to go with the prince to his own
country. Before she started she restored all the men whom her sister,
Latifa, had bewitched, to their own forms, and received their
blessings, and set them forward to their homes. The wicked Latifa
herself she left quite alone in her garden-house. When all was ready
they set out with all her servants and slaves, all her treasure and
goods, and journeyed at ease to the city of King Quimus.
When King Quimus heard of the approach of such a great company, he sent
out his wazir to give the prince honourable meeting, and to ask what
had procured him the favour of the visit. The prince sent back word
that he had no thought of war, but he wrote: “Learn and know, King
Quimus, that I am here to end the crimes of your insolent daughter who
has tyrannously done to death many kings and kings sons, and has hung
their heads on your citadel. I am here to give her the answer to her
riddle.” Later on he entered the city, beat boldly on the drums, and
was conducted to the presence.
The king entreated him to have nothing to do with the riddle, for that
no man had come out of it alive. “O king!” replied the prince, “it is
to answer it that I am here; I will not withdraw.”
Mihr-afruz was told that one man more had staked his head on her
question, and that this was one who said he knew the answer. At the
request of the prince, all the officers and notables of the land were
summoned to hear his reply to the princess. All assembled, and the king
and his queen Gul-rakh, and the girl and the prince were there.
The prince addressed Mihr-afruz: “What is the question you ask?”
“What did the rose do to the cypress?” she rejoined.
The prince smiled, and turned and addressed the assembly.
“You who are experienced men and versed in affairs, did you ever know
or hear and see anything of this matter?”
“No!” they answered, “no one has ever known or heard or seen aught
about it; it is an empty fancy.”
“From whom, then, did the princess hear of it? This empty fancy it is
that has done many a servant of God to death!”
All saw the good sense of his words and showed their approval. Then he
turned to the princess: “Tell us the truth, princess; who told you of
this thing? I know it hair by hair, and in and out; but if I tell you
what I know, who is there that can say I speak the truth? You must
produce the person who can confirm my words.”
Her heart sank, for she feared that her long-kept secret was now to be
noised abroad. But she said merely: “Explain yourself.”
“I shall explain myself fully when you bring here the negro whom you
hide beneath your throne.”
Here the king shouted in wonderment: “Explain yourself, young man! What
negro does my daughter hide beneath her throne?”
“That,” said the prince, “you will see if you order to be brought here
the negro who will be found beneath the throne of the princess.”
Messengers were forthwith despatched to the garden house, and after
awhile they returned bringing a negro whom they had discovered in a
secret chamber underneath the throne of Mihr-afruz, dressed in a dress
of honour, and surrounded with luxury. The king was overwhelmed with
astonishment, but the girl had taken heart again. She had had time to
think that perhaps the prince had heard of the presence of the negro,
and knew no more. So she said haughtily: “Prince! you have not answered
my riddle.”
“O most amazingly impudent person,” cried he, “do you not yet repent?”
Then he turned to the people, and told them the whole story of the rose
and the cypress, of King Sinaubar and Queen Gul. When he came to the
killing of the negroes, he said to the one who stood before them: “You,
too, were present.”
“That is so; all happened as you have told it!”
There was great rejoicing in the court and all through the country over
the solving of the riddle, and because now no more kings and princes
would be killed. King Quimus made over his daughter to Prince Almas,
but the latter refused to marry her, and took her as his captive. He
then asked that the heads should be removed from the battlements and
given decent burial. This was done. He received from the king
everything that belonged to Mihr-afruz; her treasure of gold and
silver; her costly stuffs and carpets; her household plenishing; her
horses and camels; her servants and slaves.
Then he returned to his camp and sent for Dil-aram, who came bringing
her goods and chattels, her gold and her jewels. When all was ready,
Prince Almas set out for home, taking with him Jamila, and Dil-aram and
Gul, daughter of Taram-taq, and the wicked Mihr-afruz, and all the
belongings of the four, packed on horses and camels, and in carts
without number.
As he approached the borders of his father’s country word of his coming
went before him, and all the city came forth to give him welcome. King
Saman-lal-posh—Jessamine, wearer of rubies—had so bewept the loss of
his sons that he was now blind. When the prince had kissed his feet and
received his blessing, he took from a casket a little collyrium of
Solomon, which the Simurgh had given him, and which reveals the hidden
things of earth, and rubbed it on his father’s eyes. Light came, and
the king saw his son.
Mihr-afruz was brought before the king, and the prince said: “This is
the murderer of your sons; do with her as you will.” The king fancied
that the prince might care for the girl’s beauty, and replied: “You
have humbled her; do with her as you will.”
Upon this the prince sent for four swift and strong horses, and had the
negro bound to each one of them; then each was driven to one of the
four quarters, and he tore in pieces like muslin.
This frightened Mihr-afruz horribly, for she thought the same thing
might be done to herself. She cried out to the prince: “O Prince Almas!
what is hardest to get is most valued. Up till now I have been subject
to no man, and no man had had my love. The many kings and kings sons
who have died at my hands have died because it was their fate to die
like this. In this matter I have not sinned. That was their fate from
eternity; and from the beginning it was predestined that my fate should
be bound up with yours.”
The prince gave ear to the argument from pre-ordainment, and as she was
a very lovely maiden he took her too in lawful marriage. She and
Jamila, set up house together, and Dil-aram and Gul set up theirs; and
the prince passed the rest of his life with the four in perfect
happiness, and in pleasant and sociable entertainment.
Now has been told what the rose did to the cypress.
Finished, finished, finished!
Footnotes:
1 (return)
[Translated from two Persian MSS. in the possession of the British
Museum and the India Office, and adapted, with some reservations, by
Annette S. Beveridge.]
2 (return)
[Jessamine, ruby-decked.]
3 (return)
[Life-giving diamond.]
4 (return)
[World-gripper.]
5 (return)
[Love-enkindler.]
6 (return)
[Rose-cheek.]
7 (return)
[Heartsease.]
8 (return)
[Elias.]
9 (return)
[Pleasure.]
10 (return)
[Thirty-birds.]
11 (return)
[Pomp and Pride.]
12 (return)
[Of happy omen.]