_WHAT THE ROSE DID TO THE CYPRESS_[1]
Once upon a time a great king of the East, named Saman-lâl-pôsh,[2] had
three brave and clever sons--Tahmâsp, Qamâs, and Almâs-ruh-bakhsh.[3]
One day, when the king was sitting in his hall of audience, his eldest
son, Prince Tahmâsp, 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 faqîr, 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 faqîr 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.
[Illustration: THE DEER ELUDES PRINCE TAHMÂSP]
'Learn and know, O young man! that I am King Janângîr[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 Turkîstân, on the Chinese frontier, there is a king
named Quimûs, the son of Tîmûs, and that he has an only child, a
daughter named Mihr-afrûz,[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 Quimûs. 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 Quimûs. 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 Tahmâsp 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-lâl-pôsh.
'Your son, Prince Tahmâsp, loves distractedly the Princess Mihr-afrûz,
daughter of King Quimûs, son of Tîmûs.' 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 Quimûs, 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
Badakhshân. In this way I will bring her and her suite, and I will
give her to you to be your solace. But if King Quimûs 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 Tahmâsp
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 Quimûs. 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 Tahmâsp'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 Quimûs.
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 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 Quimûs now sent for his daughter and for her mother, Gul-rukh,[6]
and talked to them. He said to Mihr-afrûz: '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.
[Illustration: MIHR-AFRÛZ & PRINCE TAHMÂSP]
The news of the death of Prince Tahmâsp 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 Qamâs,
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
Almâs-ruh-bakhsh. One day, when his father sat brooding over his lost
children, Almâs came before him and said: 'O father mine! the daughter
of King Quimûs 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 without a following
and alone. Like his brothers, he made the long journey to the city of
Quimûs the son of Tîmûs; like them he saw the citadel, but he saw
there the heads of Tahmâsp and Qamâs. 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-afrûz.
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 perî-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
Mihr-afrûz,' 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 perî, 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 mad man; 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-arâm[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 Qarûn.' 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-arâm arose and went to her house and
lamented and fretted.
Now whenever the princess commanded the prince's attendance, Dil-arâm,
of all the girls, paid him attention and waited on him best. The
princess noticed this, and said: 'O Dil-arâm! you must take my madman
into your charge and give him whatever he wants.' This was the very
thing Dil-arâm 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-arâm 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.'
[Illustration: THE SHADOW IN THE STREAM]
'O wealth of my life and source of my joy!' responded Dil-arâm, 'I
do not know what the rose did to the cypress; but so much I know that
the person who told Mihr-afrûz about it is a negro whom she hides
under her throne. He fled here from Wâq 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-arâm 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-arâm! such a vengeance is not manly. I shall not rest till I
have gone to Wâq of the Caucasus and have cleared up the matter.' Then
they repeated the agreement about their marriage, and bade one another
good-bye.
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 Wâq 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
Wâq 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, in 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 Wâq of Qâf is in the Caucasus and is a
dependency of it. In it there are jins, demons, and perîs. 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 Qâf 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! be 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 Bismillâh 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
Cæsar'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 Almâs 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 Latîfa[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 Quimûs and his daughter, and you can
deal with them as you will.'
'O Lady Latîfa,' he said, 'I have made a compact with heaven not to
sit down off my feet till I have been to Wâq of Qâf and have cleared
up this matter, and have taken Mihr-afrûz 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 Latîfa 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.'
[Illustration: PRINCE ALMÂS TRANSFORMED]
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 Latîfa 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 in 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 Jamîla'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 Jamîla! this is
a wonderful deer, it is crying; I never saw a deer cry before.' Jamîla
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 Jamîla said: 'Unless I am mistaken, this is the
work of my wicked sister Latîfa, 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 Jamîla 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
Almâs.
The broidered kerchief and the jewels lay upon the ground. The prince
prostrated himself in thanks to heaven and Jamîla, 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 Jamîla; 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 Almâs-ruh-bakhsh, do you still wish so much to make
this journey to Wâq of Qâf? 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 Jamîla, '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 Tîmûs 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 Sîmurgh[10], and to make friends
with him. If he favours you, he will take you to Wâq of Qâf; 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 vazîrs,
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 Sîmurgh'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 _Bismillâh_, and girt them all
on. Then Jamîla 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,
and 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 Taram-tâq.[11]
Further on than this is the home of the Sîmurgh.'
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 Almâs, relying on the Causer of Causes, rode on to the Place of
Gifts and dismounted at the platform. Everything happened just as
Jamîla 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 Jamîla 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.
[Illustration: PRINCE ALMÂS BRINGS GAME TO THE KING LION]
Prince Almâs 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 Jamîla had told him that
it was the Place of Clashing Swords. He would have liked to go back
by the way he 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-tâq 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-tâq sent for a
giant negro named Chil-mâq, who in the day of battle was worth three
hundred, and said to him: 'I shall thank you to fetch me that man.'
Chil-mâq 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-tâq.
But the prince drew the dagger of Tîmûs and thrust it upwards through
the giant's arm-pit, for its full length. This made Chil-mâq drop him
and try to pick up his club; but when he stooped the mighty sword
shore him through at the waist.
[Illustration: CHIL-MÂQ CARRIES OFF ALMÂS]
When news of his champion's death reached Taram-tâq 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-tâq 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 Almâs.
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-tâq, still a child. She sent a message to Prince Almâs 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
good-bye, 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 Sîmurgh; he dismounted, turned his horse loose to graze, ate
some of the food Jamîla 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
Tîmûs 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 Sîmurgh 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 Sîmurgh 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 Sîmurgh 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 Sîmurgh 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 Wâq of the Caucasus.
Perhaps, by your favour, I shall accomplish my task and avenge my
brothers.' In reply the Sîmurgh 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 Wâq, 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 Sîmurgh. 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-afrûz. 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 Farrûkh-fâl,[12] and will introduce you to him.'
'That would be excellent,' cried the prince. A meeting was arranged
between Farrûkh-fâl and Almâs, and then the amîr 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 Sîmurgh had given the prince a diamond weighing thirty
misqâls, and he offered 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 vazîr 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 Almâs 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.
[Illustration: THE PUNISHMENT OF THE ROSE]
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
to 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
perîs, 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 perîs.
They rubbed it on their eyes, and by the Divine might saw again.
[Illustration: THE DOG & HIS ATTENDANTS]
'They thanked heaven and me, and then considered what they could do to
show their gratitude to me. "Our perî-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 perî-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 perîs 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 perî 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 perîs 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 perî-king ordered me to be burnt, and said: "Why have you, a man,
done this perfidious thing in my house?" His demons and perîs
collected ambar-wood and made a pile, and would have set me on it,
when I remembered the word of life which the two perîs 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 perî-king
ordered the ashes to be cast upon the dust-heap, and I was found alive
and unharmed.
'Perîs 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 Wâq of
Qâf, 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-afrûz, daughter
of King Quimûs. 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 Sîmurgh'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 Sîmurgh 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 Sîmurgh, 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 Sîmurgh 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 Jamîla's country.
When the Lady Jamîla heard that Prince Almâs 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. Jamîla
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 vazîr, and made preparation to go with the prince to his own
country. Before she started she restored all the men whom her sister,
Latîfa, had bewitched, to their own forms, and received their
blessings, and set them forward to their homes. The wicked Latîfa
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 Quimûs.
When King Quimûs heard of the approach of such a great company, he
sent out his vazîr 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 Quimûs, 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-afrûz 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-rukh, and the girl and the prince were there.