That stories such as those in the "Arabian Nights," and fairy tales of
every kind, should delight us all, men and women no less than boys and
girls, is very natural. We find it charming to escape for a period,
however brief, from all the familiar surroundings of modern life, and
on opening a volume to pass at once into another region, where all is
strange, and where the sceptical glances of science never intrude to
banish magic and the supernatural.
Emboldened by these reflections, we may forthwith commence the
narration of certain noteworthy occurrences concerning the celebrated
Caliph Haroun Alraschid. He was in the habit, as every one knows, of
wandering very frequently through the town after nightfall in various
disguises to see for himself that justice was done, and also, it may be
confessed, by no means loth to encounter such adventures as he might
meet with. Many of these have been already related, but others, no
whit less interesting and extraordinary, remain still untold.
Some of these adventures were very diverting and naturally pleasing,
but others involved so many dangers and such hardships that it is
indeed surprising that the Caliph should ever again have ventured on
these nocturnal ramblings.
An adventure of the latter and more serious description happened as
follows, and may be entitled:
The Caliph and the Pirates.
The Caliph, being on a tour of inspection through the various provinces
of his empire, chanced on a certain occasion to be stopping at Bussora.
And one evening, disguised, as was his wont, as a merchant, and, as
usual, accompanied only by his faithful Grand Vizier, Giafer, he
strolled through the bazaars silent and observant. Meeting with
nothing worthy of arresting his particular attention, he wandered on
until he came at length to some very narrow and mean lanes near the
waterside. In one of these, and when passing the door of a low
caravanserai, or public-house, frequented chiefly by sailors, they
noticed some men approaching, who were carrying great sacks quite full,
and so heavy that each sack was carried by two men, who, on reaching
the door of the caravanserai, entered. The Caliph, tired with his
ramble, and curious to learn what might be in the sacks, beckoned to
Giafer and followed the men into the caravanserai. The interior was so
dark, being lit only by a few small oil lamps, that it was at first
difficult to distinguish objects clearly. However, their eyes having
become accustomed to the gloom after a few minutes, the Caliph and his
Vizier, who had entered quietly and unobserved, and had seated
themselves on a low sofa or divan which ran round the sides of the
apartment, perceived that the company were all rough, seafaring men of
a very fierce and truculent aspect. Among them one was seated, who
appeared by his dress and demeanour to be the chief or captain of the
band. This man, addressing those who had brought in the sacks, asked
them what they had there. To which they replied, "Things from Abbas
Bey." At this answer the Caliph's interest increased, inasmuch as
Abbas Bey was a palace official; and because many things had lately
been stolen from the palace, but although many suspected persons had
been punished and dismissed, yet the thefts had not been certainly
traced to any one. These great sacks contained, therefore, without
doubt, all kinds of valuable property from the palace, and Abbas Bey
was the traitor who had delivered it to the thieves. The anger of the
Caliph, who was a man prone to the fiercest bursts of passion, could
scarcely be restrained. Nevertheless, he managed to preserve silence
and a calm demeanour, the more especially since he desired to learn
what would next be done. He had not long to wait, for, some wine
having been given to the men who brought the sacks, the captain ordered
them to go at once on board, as he should set sail that very night.
The Caliph hearing this, whispered to Giafer that he should go out with
the men as they left with the sacks, and that he should instantly
proceed to the nearest guard-house and fetch a company of soldiers,
with whom he should surround the house and take all within prisoners.
Giafer, doing as he was bid, left the house with the men as they came
out again with the sacks, and hastened to fetch the guard as the Caliph
had ordered.
Unluckily, it happened that the captain of the pirates--for such they
were--being more alert and observant than his men, had noticed the
presence of the two strangers, and had remarked the Caliph whisper to
his companion, and the departure of the latter. Instantly divining
that their proceedings had been discovered, and that the man who went
out had gone to betray them to the authorities, the captain whispered
an order to the two or three who sat nearest to him, and immediately
they rose, fell upon the Caliph, gagged and bound him; and all so
suddenly and swiftly that he had no time to offer any kind of
resistance. Then the captain, commanding his men to bring their
prisoner in the midst of them, proceeded at once to their vessel, which
lay at no great distance. The night was dark, and that band of
well-armed, resolute men could not easily have been overpowered, even
had there been any to attempt such a thing. But, in fact, they met no
one on their short journey from the caravanserai to the waterside. In
a few minutes, therefore, after the departure of the trusty Giafer, the
Caliph found himself lying bound and helpless on board a ship, which at
once set sail and carried him he knew not whither.
The next day one of the crew came and removed the cloth they had tied
over his mouth to gag him, and brought him some food. Then the unhappy
Caliph declared to the man who he was, and demanded that the captain
should be brought before him. But the fellow only laughed, and going
afterwards to the captain, said: "The merchant you have taken has lost
his wits, and he proclaims himself to be the Commander of the Faithful,
and says that we are but his slaves." The captain laughed heartily and
said, "Nevertheless, he is stout and strong, and may be sold for a fair
price when we come to the port we are bound for."
Leaving the Caliph to proceed on the voyage he had begun so
unwillingly, we must return to the Grand Vizier, who, as soon as he
found himself outside the caravanserai, had hastened to the nearest
guard-house, and, calling the captain of the guard, had ordered him to
assemble his men and accompany him immediately.
When he got back to the caravanserai he posted his men so that none of
the inmates should escape, and then, entering with the captain and ten
soldiers, was aghast to find the place empty. At once he hastened with
his whole force to the waterside; but too late! Nothing could be seen
of the pirate ship, which was already lost in the darkness.
Fortunately the Vizier, always a reticent and prudent man, had not
mentioned the Caliph, and he now ordered the company to return to their
guard-house, merely remarking that the robbers had for this time
escaped him.
Returning to the palace, he was for some time lost in doubt as to the
best course for him to pursue under the circumstances. That the Caliph
should escape from the clutches of the desperate gang who had carried
him off seemed little likely. And yet so many and such strange
adventures had been experienced by them both, and they had found their
way out of so many dangerous scrapes into which the Caliph's curiosity
and daring had involved them, that no good fortune seemed impossible.
Moreover, he reflected that Haroun had at this time no son old enough
to succeed him, while Ibrahim, his half-brother, and next heir
according to Moslim usage, was the Vizier's declared enemy. His
accession to the throne would therefore mean infallibly the destruction
of the Vizier and his whole family.
He resolved, after much consideration, to take the boldest course as
being really the safest, as indeed it frequently is.
Taking with him a small escort, he left Bussora at daybreak, and
proceeded as fast as the horses would carry them to Bagdad. On his
arrival he wrote immediately a note to Zobeideh, Haroun's favourite
wife; told her that the Caliph, while engaged in one of his usual
nocturnal rambles, had temporarily disappeared, and suggested, in the
interest of herself and her son, that she should give out that, being
indisposed, the Caliph had retired for a short time to one of his
palaces in the provinces, and had confided the government meanwhile
into the hands of his old and trusty Vizier. In this way, and with the
connivance of Zobeideh, the astute Giafer managed to retain without
question the government of the country during the absence of the Caliph.
To return to the Caliph. For three days the pirate ship pursued her
course in fair weather, and without incident. On the fourth day she
sighted a merchantman, to whom she gave chase. But the captain of the
merchantman, seeing his danger, crowded on every stitch of canvas he
possessed, and having a fair wind, and an uncommonly fast ship, he kept
so far ahead that, the sun going down, the pirate lost sight of him,
and he escaped.
This chase had carried the pirates far out of their course, and on the
next day a great storm arose, and they were obliged to shorten sail and
run before the wind. At length one huge wave which broke over the
ship, having swept no less than eight of the crew overboard, the
captain, who found himself short-handed, gave orders that the prisoner
should be released, that he might do his part in the endeavour to save
the ship and all their lives. The ship having sprung a leak--or,
indeed, more probably several, for the water poured in upon them
apace--the crew, including the Caliph himself, became exhausted with
continuous pumping, and the captain, therefore, descrying a coast-line,
determined to run the ship boldly ashore, in the hope that some of them
at least might be saved. And in fact, although the ship when she
touched the beach was stove in and broken up by the force of the waves,
yet the Caliph, the captain, and three of his men were washed ashore,
and lay on the beach in a very faint and exhausted condition.
Here they were found by certain natives of that region, who gave them
food and drink to revive them. Then, without either binding or in any
way ill-treating them, they conducted them along a broad and level road
which ran inland towards the capital of the country.
In about an hour's time, being all wearied and thirsty, the sun being
now very fierce, they descried with great pleasure a village at no
great distance, which was very pleasantly situated at the foot of a
steep hill, in the shadow of which it lay, embowered in a profusion of
palms and date-trees. Here the villagers were scattered in groups,
feasting and merry-making, it being a festival held in honour of some
local magnate, whose daughter had that day been married. The villagers
received their fellow-countrymen, as also the Caliph and the pirates,
with every demonstration of good-will, bringing them fresh milk to
drink, and bread, made of a mixture of rye and oats, with plenty of
dates, to eat.
Here the whole party rested for some hours, but when their conductors
wished again to resume their journey, the three pirates flatly refused
to depart, saying that they were well off where they were, and would go
no further--at least for that day. It was intimated to them that the
king of that country would suffer no stranger to dwell there unless he
had first seen him and granted his permission. However, all was in
vain; they no longer regarded the authority of their captain, and,
being three men to one, he could not compel them to obey. Leaving
them, therefore, the Caliph and the captain set out again, hoping
before nightfall to reach the town where the king, who had already been
informed of their arrival, was expecting them.
For some distance their road lay through a pleasant and well-cultivated
country, dotted at intervals by hamlets and scattered cottages, which
were surrounded by groves of orange-trees or clumps of dates and palms.
At length, as they advanced, the ground became broken and hilly, the
road was steep, and far in the distance they saw, on a great plateau or
table-land, the sparkling domes and minarets of a majestic city.
The sun was already low as they drew near to the city, and they were
congratulating themselves on being able to enter the town before the
darkness should be upon them, when suddenly they came to the edge of a
vast and precipitous abyss, which completely severed the country they
had been traversing from the heights on which the city had been built.
The road they could see continued its course on the other side, but,
spanning the dizzy chasm, the only bridge was the trunk of a gigantic
tree, which lay stretched across it. Without hesitation or difficulty
the natives of the country passed over, trusting themselves without
apparent concern to walk at that tremendous height along the rough
surface of the primitive bridge, which afforded so uncertain and
precarious a foothold. The captain, having the nerves and nimbleness
of a sailor, followed them fearlessly and safely. But for the Caliph
the adventure was extremely perilous. However, seeing the others
cross, with his wonted intrepidity and hardihood he ventured to follow
them. But on reaching the middle of the narrow and uneven footway, and
looking down into the tremendous depths below, becoming giddy he
threatened to fall headlong, and only by a strong effort of the
resolute will that distinguished him, and steadying himself by looking
earnestly at a fixed spot in front of him, he succeeded in reaching the
other side in safety.
Shortly after passing over this dangerous bridge they began to find
themselves in the suburbs of the city. On either side the road there
were fine houses situated in beautiful gardens, and they had not
proceeded far before a guard met them, sent by Selim Sadek, the king.
Selim was very desirous to see and speak with the two brave men who
unaided had crossed the tree-bridge in safety--a feat no stranger
previously had succeeded in accomplishing.
When they reached the palace--which was a noble and imposing pile of
buildings, situated on a steep hill, and overlooking not only the city,
but extensive plains and lakes stretching away as far as the eye could
see--they were shown into apartments where baths and food were prepared
for them. After bathing and enjoying an excellent repast, they retired
to rest, being greatly fatigued with their journey.
The Grand Chamberlain, after he had seen that the king's orders had
been duly carried out, and that the strangers had been properly
received and lodged, hastened to report to his master what had been
done. Selim, on receiving his report, inquired what his guests were
like. The Chamberlain replied, "Both of them, your Majesty, are fine,
well-built men; and both are exceptionally brave, as their bearing,
when they came to the bridge, amply proved; but in all other respects
they are very unlike. The one is but a rough fellow, probably a sea
captain, who stared about him in astonishment when he came into the
halls of your palace, although they are by no means the best. We
noticed, also, that he eyed the plate, although it was but silver, not
only with admiration, but somewhat greedily, as though he would, if
opportunity had offered, have gladly seized and gone off with it. The
other stranger, on the contrary, seemed to view the magnificence of the
palace with the greatest indifference, and took everything, even to the
attendance of the attendants and great officers, so much as a matter of
course, that I feel persuaded," said the Chamberlain, "that he must be
a very great personage, perhaps even a king, in his own country."
This account of the strangers given by his Grand Chamberlain inflamed
the curiosity of Selim to the highest degree, and the next morning
early he seated himself on his throne in the great audience-chamber of
his palace, and commanded that the two strangers should be brought
before him.
When they were come he inquired who they were, and where they were
going when they encountered the storm that had wrecked their vessel.
To this the Caliph, who in the new robes that had been supplied them
looked a man of great dignity and good breeding, replied by announcing
that he was the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, and relating all that had
occurred from the time he entered the caravanserai at Bussora until the
time when the pirate ship was wrecked.
When King Selim heard that the man before him was the renowned Caliph
Haroun Alraschid, whose fame had spread throughout all the world, he,
being a good Moslim, came down off his high throne, and, making
obeisance to the Commander of the Faithful--"Sire," said he, "a happy
day is this for your servant that he should be privileged to see your
face or to do aught for your illustrious Majesty. And first, say by
what death does it please you that this vile pirate and traitor shall
die?"
The captain, who from conversations he had held with the Caliph during
their journey since the wreck had become convinced of the true position
and rank of his captive, stood silent with bowed head awaiting his
sentence.
King Selim having led Haroun Alraschid up the steps of the throne and
seated him upon it, would himself have stood upon the steps, but the
Caliph bade him come up and be seated by his side.
Then, looking towards the captain of the pirates, who had already been
seized by the king's officers, he said, "Although this man has
committed that which is very worthy of death, yet because God, the most
Merciful, has spared him in the tempest and the wreck, I also will
spare him this once; therefore give him a hundred pieces of gold that
he may not be tempted by poverty further to do wrong, and let him go."
When this magnanimous sentence had been pronounced, the pirate captain
laid his hand upon his beard and, bowing his head, said to the Caliph,
"O Commander of the Faithful, and you, King Selim, if from this time
forth I rob any more, I shall deserve mercy from neither God nor man."
Then said King Selim: "Since the Commander of the Faithful has pardoned
thee, and that thou mayest not further be tempted, I enrol thee, as
thou art a brave man, among the officers of my guard."
Therefore they invested him with the robes of his office and gave him a
hundred pieces of gold as the Caliph had commanded, and thenceforth he
became one of the bravest and most trustworthy officers of King Selim.
On the next day the Caliph inquired of the king respecting the three
men who had remained behind at the village festival. But Selim
informed him that they had a law in that country prohibiting any
stranger from dwelling with the people of the land until the king had
granted his permission. Therefore, when the men had been found by the
officials of government living at that village without having first
obtained leave and authority so to do, they would be led immediately to
execution.
"Then," said the Caliph, "by this wholesome law your people are
protected from the evil influence of villains, and in this case we are
rid of three men who were not only thieves and pirates, but lazy,
worthless, and mutinous fellows, who refused to obey and follow even
their own captain. The action of your law has but forestalled what
would have been my own sentence upon them."
The Caliph remained a whole month with King Selim, accompanying him on
grand hunting expeditions, and being entertained with all the
magnificent and varied pleasures the royal court could devise.
At the end of that period he had intended to have set out on his return
to Bagdad. But just at that moment a messenger arrived from a
neighbouring king with a very insolent message for Selim and a
declaration of war. This king, whose name was Gorkol, had asked the
daughter of Selim in marriage for his son. But King Selim, being a
good Moslim, had refused to give his daughter in marriage to the son of
a heathen, and one, moreover, who was reported to be proficient in the
vilest arts of magic. Hence the declaration of war. The Caliph, being
naturally of a very fierce and hasty temper, resented hotly this insult
to his host. He therefore announced his intention to accompany the
latter, who gathered together an army to chastise the insolent heathen.
The military display as the Caliph and the king left the capital was
most imposing. The army consisted of twenty thousand men, half of whom
were infantry and half cavalry. There were also elephants and camels
with stores, and a great multitude of camp-followers.
For five days they marched through Selim's dominions, and on the sixth
day entered the territory of King Gorkol. The frontier was marked by a
range of hills, and the passage of so large a force over these was a
toilsome and tedious operation. The Caliph and king had each a large
tent for his own use, and a small army of officers and attendants to
wait on him.
On the night of the seventh day, after a very exhausting march over
difficult ground, the army encamped in a spacious valley into which
they had descended just as night was approaching.
Whether the enemy managed to get at them unobserved, being stealthy and
knowing every feature of the country, or whether the sentinels, being
weary, slept at their post, is uncertain, but suddenly before daybreak
the great army was awakened by shouts and blows to find the foe was
upon them. In the darkness and the excitement of the moment all was
confusion. Different parties of the royal troops starting hurriedly to
arms, wildly attacked each other. The strife being furious and
hand-to-hand was terrific and deadly; and when daylight appeared the
enemy, pressing boldly forward to the centre of the camp, overcame all
the resistance of which the thinned and disorganized army was capable,
and captured both the king and the Caliph.
The two princes were carried with every mark of indignity into the
presence of the heathen monarch, who, insulting them with references to
their defeat, demanded of them that they should abandon the Moslem
faith and worship the idols of the gods of his people, who had, he
said, given his troops the victory.
But the Caliph answered that although Allah, whose name be praised, had
permitted them to be worsted in the confusion of a night attack, yet
they still trusted in him, and they would never vary in the least
degree from the glorious words of the Prophet: "Allah is God, and there
is no God but Allah."
Hearing this, King Gorkol ordered them to be confined separately in two
dungeons of his castle, there to remain until a great festival of the
gods which was approaching should arrive, when he would sacrifice them
both to the gods whom they had dared to despise. Locked in the gloomy
vaults, and seeing no one but the jailer who once a day brought them
the scanty and hard fare necessary to keep them alive till the day of
vengeance should come, their position seemed altogether desperate and
their fate assured.
But in the case of King Selim he had, unknown to his captors and
concealed in the folds of his turban, a ruby of great size and of
immense value. With this he hoped to be able to bribe his jailer and
effect his escape. And in fact so well did he manage that before a
week was passed he was travelling homewards in the disguise of a
merchant, accompanied by the jailer, who dared not remain in his own
country in possession of the ruby because, according to the custom
prevailing in that kingdom, all precious stones must be surrendered to
the king under penalty of death by torture. He therefore fled with
Selim, disguised as his slave.
The king had made great efforts to induce the jailer to effect the
release of the Caliph at the same time as himself, but as Haroun
Alraschid was in charge of another jailer, it could not be managed.
Selim was obliged therefore, to his great grief, to leave the Caliph to
his fate; but he hurried back to his own dominions with the utmost
speed, determined to at once return with another army to avenge the
death of the Caliph, whose life he could not hope to arrive in time to
save.
The Caliph, having about him neither jewels nor money, had no means of
propitiating his jailer or abating the rigour and severity of the
treatment to which he was subjected. Once a day only, early in the
morning, the jailer appeared, and, without opening the great heavy door
of the dungeon, he opened one panel only, and through that opening
handed to his prisoner the two small loaves, or rather, flat cakes, and
the flask of water which must supply his wants till the following
morning.
Five days had thus passed, and there seemed no possibility of the
Caliph escaping the painful and humiliating death to which he was
destined by the heathen king. The festival to be held in honour of the
gods of the country was approaching, and two days hence the people, who
were already becoming greatly excited, both by religious fury and also
by drinking great quantities of a strong and fiery spirit which they
distilled, were to be gratified by the sight of the sacrifice by
horrible tortures of their unfortunate prisoners.
Just before daybreak on the sixth day, the same morning on which Selim
and his jailer were effecting their escape, the Caliph awoke, and
thoughts of the frightful situation in which he found himself prevented
him from again falling asleep. In great distress of mind he prayed
earnestly to God that strength might be given him to enable him to
sustain with firmness and fortitude the pains he might be called upon
to endure. After which prayer he felt calmer and more composed.
Presently, being very hungry, he tried in the dim light to find a small
piece of bread which he had not yet eaten. He had placed it on a
narrow ledge near to the place where he slept, but in the darkness he
pushed it with his hand before he had grasped it, and it fell upon the
floor. Groping about to find it, his hand came suddenly upon something
which felt soft and cool--an object apparently about the size and shape
of a hen's egg, yet not hard like an egg-shell, but elastic and
yielding readily to the pressure of the fingers. What it was the sense
of touch did not enable him to guess, and as yet the light was
insufficient to permit him to distinguish anything clearly. And,
marvellous to relate, as the light increased, although all the objects
around him became visible, yet this something which he had felt, and
which he still felt to be grasped in his hand, was nevertheless not to
be seen. This circumstance surprised the Caliph very much, and he sat
cross-legged on the straw which had been placed in the corner of the
dungeon for him to sleep on, just as he had been used to do on the
splendid divan in his palace, still grasping the unknown object in his
hand, and yet still unable to see what it was. After he had sat thus
for some time cogitating what this might mean, the hour came round when
the jailer should come and bring him his food for the day.
Now it so happened that the Caliph's jailer when bringing his food had
to pass the dungeon in which Selim had been confined. This morning as
he passed he was amazed to observe that the door was unfastened, and,
looking in, he perceived that the vault was empty. Fearful that his
prisoner might likewise have effected his escape, he hurriedly set down
the food and ran on to the dungeon containing the Caliph.
The latter was surprised to hear his jailer running rapidly along the
passage, and still more surprised when the man, after looking through
the panel, withdrew the huge bolts and, opening the door, came into the
great gloomy vault, looking excitedly about him. Then after a few
moments, apparently bewildered and terror-struck, he turned about, went
out, closed the door behind him, and, without waiting to replace the
bolts, walked quickly along the passage and disappeared.
The Caliph, although unable to guess to what he owed his good fortune,
did not neglect to avail himself of it. Pushing open the door, and
stopping to close it and bolt it behind him, he walked down the
corridor without knowing where and to what it might lead him. This
passage or corridor seemed at first sight to terminate with a dead wall
at the end of it. But, proceeding further along it, he presently
perceived a side-passage turning out of it at right angles, and this
smaller passage, which was short, terminated in a flight of steps
leading evidently into the castle-yard. The door at the top of the
steps was partly open, and when he reached it the Caliph could hear and
catch glimpses of a group of soldiers standing and chatting together
not far from the doorway. He stood for some moments uncertain what he
should do. If he opened the door and went out, doubtless he would
immediately be seized; on the other hand, to stay where he was meant no
less certain destruction, as at any moment some one might enter and
find him there. He had just determined to step out boldly and risk
detection, in the hope that in the bustle of the castle-yard his exit
might pass unnoticed, when a gust of wind blew the door wide open, and
he stood face to face, not ten paces distant, with that group of
soldiers he had heard conversing.
For a moment he stood horror-struck, expecting to see them rush forward
and secure him. To his extreme surprise, none of them, not even those
facing him, took the slightest notice of his presence. They appeared
not even to see him, but perhaps they took him for one of the
innumerable retainers of the Court; at any rate, the Caliph, plucking
up courage, stepped out and walked quietly away.
As he was crossing the courtyard, a great mounted warrior on a powerful
black steed came pounding along, and would apparently have ridden right
over the Caliph just as though he was unaware of his existence, but
Haroun drew quickly aside, and the horse shied, thereby drawing upon
itself many hard blows from the fierce and haughty rider.
Passing out of the castle-gates, and turning eastward, as he judged, by
the position of the sun, the Caliph proceeded in the direction which
would enable him, he hoped, in due time, to reach his own country. He
had not gone far when he met a rough country fellow who carried a long
piece of wood on his shoulder, and Haroun would have been struck full
in the face with it had he not stepped quickly on one side to avoid it.
But the man, although he passed close by him, neither looked at nor
spoke to him, and seemed altogether unconscious of his presence.
It now first dawned upon the Caliph that the strange and invisible
substance which he had picked up in the dungeon, and which he still
carried in his hand, possessed indeed the marvellous property of
rendering him entirely invisible to other men. This accounted for the
remarkable panic of his jailer, who, when he looked into, and even
entered his dungeon, failed to see him; it explained why the soldiers
had permitted him to leave the building unmolested, why the horseman
had nearly ridden over him, and why the clown who had just passed had,
without knowing it, nearly brained him with his load.
Much comforted and strengthened by the discovery of this wonderful
exemption from observation which he now enjoyed, he walked on briskly,
till the sun, being now high in the heavens, and the heat very great,
he came to a village, and entering boldly an inn there, and passing
through into an empty apartment, he lay down upon a not very soft divan
he found in it, and straightway fell asleep.
The Caliph being tired with the walk and the excitement of the morning,
slept so long and soundly that it was night and quite dark when he
awoke. And being even then but half awake he did not realize that he
was no longer in the castle-dungeon; therefore, perceiving that it was
not yet light, he turned over and went to sleep again. In a few hours'
time, in the midst of a dream that he was in his own palace at Bagdad
and presiding at some great feast, he awoke once more, saw that it was
beginning to be light, remembered where he was, and found himself
exceedingly hungry. Going, therefore, very quietly into the next
apartment, he found the innkeeper lying there soundly asleep, and on
the table the remains of a substantial supper. At once seating
himself, the Caliph was not long in finishing the repast and assuaging
the pangs of hunger.
Having all his life been used to eat and drink whatever he required,
without any thought of payment, it is very likely that he might have
eaten his meal and departed without the least concern or thought of the
fact that he possessed at that moment nothing to pay for it. However,
it so fell out that he was enabled to recompense his involuntary host
very handsomely. For after he had finished eating, and before he rose
from his seat, he heard a slight rustling sound outside the room, as
though some one were stealthily approaching.
Now the Caliph, before lying down to rest on the previous afternoon,
had taken the precaution to bestow the mysterious and wonderful charm
he had picked up, in a place of safety. He had put it inside his
turban, in such a way that he could feel it pressing like a soft
elastic pad upon his forehead. And therefore, in virtue of his contact
with that charm, he was still invisible to every other human being.
Such being the case, the thief peering into the room saw no one but the
keeper of the inn, who was sleeping very soundly. Entering, therefore,
with noiseless tread, his feet being bare, he approached the sleeper,
and extracted very dexterously a small packet of coin which he carried
secreted in his girdle. With this packet the thief glided from the
room, and stopping outside but a single instant to place it inside the
folds of his own turban, he walked briskly away.
The Caliph followed him closely. About a hundred yards from the door
of the inn there flowed a small stream or brook, across which the only
bridge was a couple of planks. Just as they arrived at this point the
Caliph took off the fellow's turban, and, with a push from behind,
threw him into the water. The stream was neither deep nor swift, and
the thief soon picked himself up, scrambled to the other side, and
then, without once looking back, took to his heels, being fully
persuaded that it was the man he had just robbed who had pursued and
overtaken him. The Caliph, after taking the parcel of coin out of the
turban, which he then threw away, walked quietly back towards the inn,
without deigning to bestow another thought on the thief whom he had
thrown into the water.
Before he reached the door of the inn, he saw the innkeeper, who had
awoke and discovered his loss, rush out of the house wild and
bareheaded, his turban having tumbled or been knocked off in his
excitement. Running past the invisible Caliph, and loudly cursing all
villains and robbers, and especially that one who had just taken his
money, he caught sight of the thief himself, scrambling up, dripping
wet, on to the opposite bank of the stream, and, with much
vociferation, he continued in hot pursuit. The noise he made brought
out, of course, all those who had been passing the night at the inn,
and very naturally they all commenced at once to follow the pursuer and
pursued.
The Caliph then quietly entered the deserted house, and placing the
packet of money carefully in the innkeeper's turban, where he would be
sure to find it on his return from the chase, he left, and taking
another road, and one leading, as far as he could judge, in the
direction of his own dominions, he continued his journey.
He walked along for some hours without meeting any one except a few
peasants, or encountering any noteworthy incident whatsoever.
At length he became tired with his long march, and the heat of the
noontide sun became so oppressive, that, espying a thick clump of trees
at a short distance from the road, he gladly made his way to that
pleasant shelter, lay down on a grassy bank, with a log for his pillow,
and composed himself to rest and sleep.
On waking, after two or three hours of very sound and refreshing sleep,
he found that owing to some change in his position his turban had
fallen off. This, in itself not very serious or remarkable accident,
gave him on the present occasion much apprehension and concern. For in
his turban he had placed, as has been mentioned, the invisible object,
whatever it might be, which had in some inexplicable manner conferred
upon him also, while he was in contact with it, the condition of
invisibility.
He took up the turban most carefully, he felt in it, he put it on, but
nowhere could he encounter the soft, cool sensation with which he had
become familiar. He groped laboriously all round the spot where he had
been lying, but in vain. Whether the object had rolled away, or
whether it had been carried to a distance by the breeze, or possibly
had even been dissipated altogether, he could not determine. One thing
only was clear and beyond conjecture--the charm was lost for ever.
Coming at last most unwillingly to that conclusion, he sat down
cross-legged upon the grass as on a divan, resting his elbow upon the
log which had served him for a pillow, and began to consider how he
should manage to make his way back to his own dominions through that
land of idolaters. He had no idea of the distance to be traversed, but
he reflected that, having no longer the aid and protection of being
invisible, and being possessed of no money, his difficulties must
necessarily be great. Moreover, he was not without considerable
anxiety as to what might have occurred at Bagdad while he had been
absent. Giafer, indeed, to whom all the details of the government of
the country had practically been confided for many years, he could
thoroughly trust. But Ibrahim, who would probably have succeeded to
the Caliphate, was known to hate the Grand Vizier, and would not only
put him to death, but might also, not improbably, have taken measures
to rid himself of Zobeideh and her son. Oppressed by these gloomy
thoughts the Caliph sat for a long time without moving.
At length, hearing the tramp of horses in the distance, he looked up,
and was overjoyed to behold two men coming along the road, whom he at
once knew by their dress to be Arab merchants. Each was on horseback,
and they had with them, besides several other horses, some mules and
asses laden with packages. And there was also a kind of closed
carriage or palanquin, borne by some slaves, in which no doubt was
conveyed a lady or female slave of great value.
Now, when the Caliph saw these men approaching, he rose up quickly and
went to meet them. When he drew near, he saluted them and inquired
whither they went.
To which they replied: "To Bagdad." And they inquired of him how it
came to pass that he should be on foot and alone in that pagan kingdom,
seeing it was evident by his dress that he was a Moslim.
Now, the Caliph had already learnt by experience that to proclaim his
true rank would be only to court a suspicion of madness, therefore he
replied briefly, that he too was from Bagdad and was returning thither,
but that unhappily he had been taken prisoner by the idolaters, and
robbed of all that he had, except only the clothes upon his back. He
begged them, therefore, to lend him a horse and to take him with them
to Bagdad, in which city he had plenty both of friends and funds, and
where he would reward them handsomely for their kindness.
To this they answered that since he was in distress he was very welcome
to come with them, and that without any claim on their part for fee or
reward, the more especially as they would be glad, while travelling
through that wild and lawless country, to have another strong man of
their party. With that they lent him a horse, and he, nothing loth,
but glad enough to get his feet off the ground and his face turned
towards home, rode cheerfully along with them.
The Caliph soon discovered that the two merchants were very intelligent
men and agreeable fellow-travellers. The name of the one was Abdallah,
and of the other Ahmed.
After the Caliph had been some time in their company, and their
conversation had become more intimate and familiar, he ventured to
inquire how they had fared on their present expedition, and in what
sort of merchandize they had embarked their fortune.
"You must know," said Abdallah, who was always the chief speaker, "that
both Ahmed and myself are well acquainted with several of the officers
in the Palace of the Commander of the Faithful, whom Allah exalt, and
also of some in the Palace of Zobeideh, his favourite wife. We always
endeavour therefore, when trading in foreign countries, to buy such
things as will sell well at court. The prices we get for our goods are
in that way very satisfactory, although the profit we actually make is
less than you might suppose, because all those officials who gain us an
introduction to the palaces must have rich presents and high fees to
recompense them for their trouble."
"And the Caliph, what sort of a man is he?" asked Haroun.
"He is," answered Abdallah, "a just man, and very brave, but fierce,
hot-tempered, and hasty. And as he is very apt to lose his temper,
those who have to do with him are very liable to lose their heads."
"But sometimes he is no doubt very much provoked," said Haroun.
"Nay," said Abdallah, "when he is in an ill-humour, he would order your
head to be struck off as readily as he would order his dinner."
"I can scarcely believe that," answered Haroun. "Did you not say that
he loves justice?"
"Undoubtedly," answered Abdallah, "he is anxious to have a just
administration of the laws, and I have been told that in order to see
for himself what goes on, he frequently walks through the city
disguised as a merchant."
"And that," said Ahmed, "I consider to be by no means commendable."
"On what account?" demanded Haroun.
"Because," said Ahmed, "if on one of those excursions any accident
should happen to the Commander of the Faithful, the State would lose
more than ever it gained from all his rambles and inquiries."
Haroun could not but admit to himself the justice of this observation,
and yet he was by no means pleased with it, as one never is with any
reflection on our own conduct. Therefore, when Abdallah said, that for
his part he thought the Caliph did quite right in determining to see
things with his own eyes, and that a man ought not to weigh too
scrupulously the dangers which might lie in the way of doing his duty,
Haroun could have embraced him in the fulness of his satisfaction.
"But," said Haroun, to turn the conversation, "you have not yet told me
what good or ill-fortune you have met with on this expedition, nor what
ventures you are bringing back with you to Bagdad."
As Haroun said this, his eye rested upon the palanquin which was being
carried by the slaves, and Abdallah, noticing his glance, and guessing
that he was curious to learn something of the occupant, began as
follows: