'There was once, of old time, a hawk who made himself a nest hard
by that of a locust, and the latter gloried in his neighbourhood
and betaking herself to him, saluted him and said, "O my lord and
chief of the birds, indeed the nearness unto thee delighteth me
and thou honourest me with thy neighbourhood and my soul is
fortified with thee." The hawk thanked her for this and there
ensued friendship between them. One day, the locust said to the
hawk, "O chief of the birds, how cometh it that I see thee alone,
solitary, having with thee no friend of thy kind of the birds, to
whom thou mayst incline in time of easance and of whom thou mayst
seek succour in time of stress? Indeed, it is said, 'Man goeth
about seeking the ease of his body and the preservation of his
strength, and in this there is nought more necessary to him than
a friend who shall be the completion of his gladness and the
mainstay of his life and on whom shall be his dependence in his
stress and in his ease.' Now I, albeit I ardently desire thy weal
in that which beseemeth thy condition, yet am I weak [and unable]
unto that which the soul craveth; but, if thou wilt give me
leave, I will seek out for thee one of the birds who shall be
conformable unto thee in thy body and thy strength." And the hawk
said, "I commit this to thee and rely upon thee therein."
Therewithal, O my brother, the locust fell to going round about
among the company of the birds, but saw nought resembling the
hawk in bulk and body save the kite and deemed well of her. So
she brought the hawk and the kite together and counselled the
former to make friends with the latter. Now it chanced that the
hawk fell sick and the kite abode with him a long while [and
tended him] till he recovered and became whole and strong;
wherefore he thanked her [and she departed from him]. But after
awhile the hawk's sickness returned to him and he needed the
kite's succour. So the locust went out from him and was absent
from him a day, after which she returned to him with a[nother]
locust, [FN#53] saying, "I have brought thee this one." When the
hawk saw her, he said, "God requite thee with good! Indeed, thou
hast done well in the quest and hast been subtle in the choice."
All this, O my brother,' continued the merchant, 'befell because
the locust had no knowledge of the secret essence that lieth hid
in apparent bodies. As for thee, O my brother, (may God requite
thee with good!) thou wast subtle in device and usedst
precaution; but precaution sufficeth not against fate, and
fortune fore-ordained baffleth contrivance. How excellent is the
saying of the poet! And he recited the following verses:
It chances whiles that the blind man escapes a pit, Whilst he who
is clear of sight falls into it.
The ignorant man may speak with impunity A word that is death to
the wise and the ripe of wit.
The true believer is pinched for his daily bread, Whilst infidel
rogues enjoy all benefit.
Where is a man's resource and what can he do? It is the
Almighty's will; we most submit.
Nor," added the vizier, "is this, O king of the age, more
extraordinary or stranger than the story of the king and his
chamberlain's wife; nay, the latter is rarer than this and more
delightsome."
When the king heard this story, he was fortified in his resolve
to spare the vizier and to leave haste in an affair whereof he
was not assured; so he comforted him and bade him withdraw to his
lodging.
The Twenty-Fourth Night of the Month.
When it was night, the king summoned the vizier and sought of him
the hearing of the [promised] story. "Hearkening and obedience,"
replied Er Rehwan, "Know, O august king, that
STORY OF THE KING AND HIS CHAMBERLAIN'S
WIFE.
There was once, of old days and in bygone ages and times, a king
of the kings of the Persians, who was passionately addicted to
the love of women. His courtiers bespoke him of the wife of a
chamberlain of his chamberlains, for that she was endowed with
beauty and loveliness and perfection, and this prompted him to go
in to her. When she saw him, she knew him and said to him, 'What
prompteth the king unto this that he doth?' And he answered,
saying, 'Verily, I yearn after thee with an exceeding yearning
and needs must I enjoy thy favours.' And he gave her of wealth
that after the like whereof women hanker; but she said, 'I cannot
do that whereof the king speaketh, for fear of my husband.' And
she refused herself to him with the most rigorous of refusals and
would not do his desire. So the king went out, full of wrath, and
forgot his girdle in the place.
Presently, her husband entered and saw the girdle and knew it.
Now he was ware of the king's love for women; so he said to his
wife, ' What is this that I see with thee?' Quoth she, 'I will
tell thee the truth,' and recounted to him the story; but he
believed her not and doubt entered into his heart. As for the
king, he passed that night in chagrin and concern, and when it
morrowed, he summoned the chamberlain and investing him with the
governance of one of his provinces, bade him betake himself
thither, purposing, after he should have departed and come to his
destination, to foregather with his wife. The chamberlain
perceived [his intent] and knew his design; so he answered,
saying, 'Hearkening and obedience. I will go and set my affairs
in order and give such charges as may be necessary for the
welfare of my estate; then will I go about the king's occasion.'
And the king said, 'Do this and hasten.'
So the chamberlain went about that which he needed and assembling
his wife's kinsfolk, said to them, 'I am resolved to put away my
wife.' They took this ill of him and complained of him and
summoning him before the king, sat pleading with him. Now the
king had no knowledge of that which had passed; so he said to the
chamberlain, 'Why wilt thou put her away and how can thy soul
consent unto this and why takest thou unto thyself a goodly piece
of land and after forsakest it? 'May God amend the king!'
answered the husband. 'By Allah, O king, I saw therein the track
of the lion and fear to enter the land, lest the lion devour me;
and indeed the like of my affair with her is that which befell
between the old woman and the draper's wife.' 'What is their
story?' asked the king; and the chamberlain said, 'Know, O king,
that
STORY OF THE OLD WOMAN AND THE DRAPER'S
WIFE.
There was once a man of the drapers, who had a fair wife, and she
was curtained [FN#54] and chaste. A certain young man saw her
coming forth of the bath and loved her and his heart was occupied
with her. So he cast about [to get access to her] with all manner
of devices, but availed not to win to her; and when he was weary
of endeavour and his patience was exhausted for weariness and his
fortitude failed him and he was at an end of his resources
against her, he complained of this to an old woman of ill-omen,
[FN#55] who promised him to bring about union between him and
her. He thanked her for this and promised her all manner of good;
and she said to him, "Get thee to her husband and buy of him a
turban-cloth of fine linen, and let it be of the goodliest of
stuffs."
So he repaired to the draper and buying of him a turban-cloth of
lawn, returned with it to the old woman, who took it and burned
it in two places. Then she donned devotees' apparel and taking
the turban-cloth with her, went to the draper's house and knocked
at the door. When the draper's wife saw her, she opened to her
and received her kindly and made much of her and welcomed her. So
the old woman went in to her and conversed with her awhile. Then
said she to her, "[I desire to make] the ablution [preparatory]
to prayer." So the wife brought her water and she made the
ablution and standing up to pray, prayed and did her occasion.
When she had made an end of her prayers, she left the
turban-cloth in the place of prayer and went away.
Presently, in came the draper, at the hour of evening prayer, and
sitting down in the place where the old woman had prayed, looked
about him and espied the turban. He knew it [for that which he
had that day sold to the young man] and misdoubted of the case,
wherefore anger appeared in his face and he was wroth with his
wife and reviled her and abode his day and his night, without
speaking to her, what while she knew not the cause of his anger.
Then she looked and seeing the turban-cloth before him and noting
the traces of burning thereon, understood that his anger was on
account of this and concluded that he was wroth because it was
burnt.
When the morning morrowed, the draper went out, still angered
against his wife, and the old woman returned to her and found her
changed of colour, pale of face, dejected and heart-broken. [So
she questioned her of the cause of her dejection and she told her
how her husband was angered against her (as she supposed) on
account of the burns in the turban-cloth.] "O my daughter,"
rejoined the old woman, "be not concerned; for I have a son, a
fine-drawer, and he, by thy life, shall fine-draw [the holes] and
restore the turban-cloth as it was. "The wife rejoiced in her
saying and said to her, "And when shall this be?" "To-morrow, if
it please God the Most High," answered the old woman, "I will
bring him to thee, at the time of thy husband's going forth from
thee, and he shall mend it and depart forth-right." Then she
comforted her heart and going forth from her, returned to the
young man and told him what had passed.
Now, when the draper saw the turban-cloth, he resolved to put
away his wife and waited but till he should get together that
which was obligatory on him of the dowry and what not
else,[FN#56] for fear of her people. When the old woman arose in
the morning, she took the young man and carried him to the
draper's house. The wife opened the door to her and the
ill-omened old woman entered with him and said to the lady, "Go,
fetch that which thou wouldst have fine-drawn and give it to my
son." So saying, she locked the door on her, whereupon the young
man forced her and did his occasion of her and went forth. Then
said the old woman to her, "Know that this is my son and that he
loved thee with an exceeding love and was like to lose his life
for longing after thee. So I practised on thee with this device
and came to thee with this turban-cloth, which is not thy
husband's, but my son's. Now have I accomplished my desire; so do
thou trust in me and I will put a trick on thy husband for the
setting thee right with him, and thou wilt be obedient to me and
to him and to my son."[FN#57] And the wife answered, saying, "It
is well. Do so."
So the old woman returned to the lover and said to him, "I have
skilfully contrived the affair for thee with her; [and now it
behoveth us to amend that we have marred]. So go now and sit with
the draper and bespeak him of the turban-cloth, [saying, 'The
turban-cloth I bought of thee I chanced to burn in two places; so
I gave it to a certain old woman, to get mended, and she took it
and went away, and I know not her dwelling-place.'] When thou
seest me pass by, rise and lay hold of me [and demand of me the
turban-cloth], to the intent that I may amend her case with her
husband and that thou mayst be even with her." So he repaired to
the draper's shop and sat down by him and said to him, "Thou
knowest the turban-cloth I bought of thee?" "Yes," answered the
draper, and the other said, "Knowest thou what is come of it?"
"No," replied the husband, and the youth said, "After I bought it
of thee, I fumigated myself[FN#58] and it befell that the
turban-cloth was burnt in two places. So I gave it to a woman,
whose son, they said, was a fine-drawer, and she took it and went
away with it; and I know not her abiding-place." When the draper
heard this, he misdoubted him [of having wrongly suspected his
wife] and marvelled at the story of the turban-cloth, and his
mind was set at ease concerning her.
Presently, up came the old woman, whereupon the young man sprang
to his feet and laying hold of her, demanded of her the
turban-cloth. Quoth she, "Know that I entered one of the houses
and made the ablution and prayed in the place of prayer; and I
forgot the turban-cloth there and went out. Now I know not the
house in which I prayed, nor have I been directed[FN#59] thereto,
and I go round about every day till the night, so haply I may
light on it, for I know not its owner." When the draper heard
this, he said to the old woman, "Verily, Allah restoreth unto
thee vhat which thou hast lost. Rejoice, for the turban-cloth is
with me and in my house." And he arose forthright and gave her
the turban-cloth, as it was. She gave it to the young man, and
the draper made his peace with his wife and gave her raiment and
jewellery, [by way of peace-offering], till she was content and
her heart was appeased. [FN#60]
When the king heard his chamberlain's story, he was confounded
and abashed and said to him, 'Abide on thy wonted service and
till thy land, for that the lion entered it, but marred it not,
and he will never more return thither.'[FN#61] Then he bestowed
on him a dress of honour and made him a sumptuous present; and
the man returned to his wife and people, rejoicing and glad, for
that his heart was set at rest concerning his wife. Nor," added
the vizier, "O king of the age, is this rarer or more
extraordinary than the story of the fair and lovely woman,
endowed with amorous grace, with the foul-favoured man."
When the king heard the vizier's speech, he deemed it goodly and
it pleased him; so he bade him go away to his house, and there he
abode his day long.
The Twenty-fifth Night of the Month.
When the evening evened, the king summoned his vizier and bade
him tell the [promised] story. So he said, "It is well. Know, O
king, that
STORY OF THE FOUL-FAVOURED MAN AND HIS
FAIR WIFE.
There was once a man of the Arabs who had a number of sons, and
amongst them a boy, never was seen a fairer than he of favour nor
a more accomplished in loveliness, no, nor a more perfect of wit.
When he came to man's estate, his father married him to the
daughter of one of his uncles, and she excelled not in beauty,
neither was she praiseworthy of attributes; wherefore she pleased
not the youth, but he bore with her, for kinship's sake.
One day, he went forth in quest of certain stray camels of his
and fared on all his day and night till eventide, when he [came
to an Arab encampment and] was fain to seek hospitality of one of
the inhabitants. So he alighted at one of the tents of the camp
and there came forth to him a man of short stature and loathly
aspect, who saluted him and lodging him in a corner of the tent,
sat entertaining him with talk, the goodliest that might be. When
his food was dressed, the Arab's wife brought it to the guest,
and he looked at the mistress of the tent and saw a favour than
which no goodlier might be. Indeed, her beauty and grace and
symmetry amazed him and he abode confounded, looking now at her
and now at her husband. When his looking grew long, the man said
to him, 'Harkye, O son of the worthy! Occupy thyself with thine
own concerns, for by me and this woman hangeth a rare story, that
is yet goodlier than that which thou seest of her beauty; and
when we have made an end of our food, I will tell it thee.'
So, when they had made an end of eating and drinking, the young
man asked his host for the story, and he said, 'Know that in my
youth I was even as thou seest me in the matter of loathliness
and foul favour; and I had brethren of the comeliest of the folk;
wherefore my father preferred them over me and used to show them
kindness, to my exclusion, and employ me, in their room [in
menial service], like as one employeth slaves. One day, a
she-camel of his went astray and he said to me, "Go thou forth in
quest of her and return not but with her." Quoth I, "Send other
than I of thy sons." But he would not consent to this and reviled
me and insisted upon me, till the matter came to such a pass with
him that he took a whip and fell to beating me. So I arose and
taking a riding-camel, mounted her and sallied forth at a
venture, purposing to go out into the deserts and return to him
no more. I fared on all my night [and the next day] and coming at
eventide to [the encampment of] this my wife's people, alighted
down with her father, who was a very old man, and became his
guest.
When the night was half spent, I arose [and went forth the tent]
to do an occasion of mine, and none knew of my case save this
woman. The dogs misdoubted of me and followed me and gave not
over besetting me, till I fell on my back into a deep pit,
wherein was water, and one of the dogs fell in with me. The
woman, who was then a girl in the first bloom of youth, full of
strength and spirit, was moved to pity on me, for that wherein I
was fallen, and coming to me with a rope, said to me, "Lay hold
of this rope." So I laid hold of the rope and clung to it and she
pulled me up; but, when I was halfway up, I pulled her [down] and
she fell with me into the pit; and there we abode three days, she
and I and the dog.
When her people arose in the morning and saw her not, they sought
her in the camp, but, finding her not and missing me also,
doubted not but she had fled with me. Now she had four brothers,
as they were falcons, and they mounted and dispersed in quest of
us. When the day dawned [on the fourth morning], the dog began to
bark and the other dogs answered him and coming to the mouth of
the pit, stood howling to him. My wife's father, hearing the
howling of the dogs, came up and standing at the brink of the
pit, [looked in and] beheld a marvel. Now he was a man of valour
and understanding, an elder versed[FN#62] in affairs so he
fetched a rope and bringing us both forth, questioned us of our
case. I told him all that had betided and he abode pondering the
affair.
Presently, her brothers returned, whereupon the old man
acquainted them with the whole case and said to them, "O my sons,
know that your sister purposed not aught but good, and if ye slay
this man, ye will earn abiding reproach and ye will wrong him,
ay, and wrong yourselves and your sister, to boot; for indeed
there appeareth no cause [of offence] such as calleth for
slaughter, and it may not be denied that this incident is a thing
the like whereof may well betide and that he may well have been
baffled by the like of this chance." Then he turned to me and
questioned me of my lineage; so I set forth to him my genealogy
and he said, "A man of equal rank, honourable [and]
understanding." And he offered me [his daughter in] marriage. I
consented to him of this and marrying her, took up my abode with
him and God the Most High hath opened on me the gates of weal and
fortune, so that I am become the most abounding in substance of
the folk of the tribe; and He hath stablished me in that which He
hath given me of His bounties.'
The young man marvelled at his story and lay the night with him;
and when he arose in the morning, he found his strays. So he took
them and returning [to his family.], acquainted them with what he
had seen and that which had betided him. Nor," added the vizier,
"is this more marvellous or rarer than the story of the king who
lost kingdom and wealth and wife and children and God restored
them unto him and requited him with a kingdom more magnificent
than that which he had lost and goodlier and rarer and greater of
wealth and elevation."
The vizier's story pleased the king and he bade depart to his
dwelling.
The Twenty-Sixth Night of the Month.
When came the night, the king summoned his vizier and bade him
tell the story of the king who lost kingdom and wife and wealth.
"Hearkening and obedience," replied Er Rehwan. "Know, O king,
that
STORY OF THE KING WHO LOST KINGDOM AND
WIFE AND WEALTH AND GOD RESTORED THEM TO
HIM.
There was once a king of the kings of Hind, who was goodly of
polity, praiseworthy in administration, just to his subjects,
beneficent to men of learning and piety and asceticism and
devoutness and worship and shunning traitors and froward folk and
those of lewd life. On this wise of polity he abode in his
kingship what God the Most High willed of days and hours and
years, and he married the daughter of his father's brother, a
beautiful and lovesome woman, endowed with brightness and
perfection, who had been reared in the king's house in splendour
and delight. She bore him two sons, the comeliest that might be
of boys. Then came fore-ordained fate, which there is no warding
off, and God the Most High raised up against the king another
king, who came forth upon his realm, and all the folk of the
city, who had a mind unto evil and lewdness, joined themselves
unto him. So he fortified himself against the king and made
himself master of his kingdom, putting his troops to the rout and
slaying his guards.
The king took his wife, the mother of his sons, and what he might
[of good] and saved himself and fled in the darkness of the
night, unknowing whither he should go. When travel grew sore upon
them, there met them robbers by the way, who took all that was
with them, [even to their clothes], so that there was left unto
each of them but a shirt and trousers; yea, they left them
without victual or camels or [other] riding-cattle, and they
ceased not to fare on afoot, till they came to a coppice, to wit,
a garden of trees, on the shore of the sea. Now the road which
they would have followed was crossed by an arm of the sea, but it
was scant of water. So, when they came to that place, the king
took up one of his children and fording the water with him, set
him down on the other bank and returned for his other son. Him
also he set by his brother and returning for their mother, took
her up and passing the water with her, came to the place [where
he had left his children], but found them not. Then he looked at
the midst of the island and saw there an old man and an old
woman, engaged in making themselves a hut of reeds. So he put
down his wife over against them and set off in quest of his
children, but none gave him news of them and he went round about
right and left, but found not the place where they were.
Now the children had entered the coppice, to make water, and
there was there a forest of trees, wherein, if a horseman
entered, he might wander by the week, [before finding his way
out], for none knew the first thereof from the last. So the boys
entered therein and knew not how they should return and went
astray in that wood, to an end that was willed of God the Most
High, whilst their father sought them, but found them not. So he
returned to their mother and they abode weeping for their
children. As for these latter, when they entered the wood, it
swallowed them up and they went wandering in it many days,
knowing not where they had entered, till they came forth, at
another side, upon the open country.
Meanwhile, the king and queen abode in the island, over against
the old man and woman, and ate of the fruits that were in the
island and drank of its waters, till, one day, as they sat, there
came a ship and moored to the side of the island, to fill up with
water, whereupon they[FN#63] looked at each other and spoke. The
master of the ship was a Magian and all that was therein, both
men and goods, belonged to him, for that he was a merchant and
went round about the world. Now covetise deluded the old man, the
owner of the island, and he went up [into the ship] and gave the
Magian news of the king's wife, setting out to him her charms,
till he made him yearn unto her and his soul prompted him to use
treachery and practise upon her and take her from her hnsband. So
he sent to her, saying, 'With us in the ship is a woman with
child, and we fear lest she be delivered this night. Hast thou
skill in the delivering of women?' And she answered, 'Yes.' Now
it was the last of the day; so he sent to her to come up into the
ship and deliver the woman, for that the pangs of labour were
come upon her; and he promised her clothes and spending-money.
Accordingly, she embarked in all assurance, with a heart at ease
for herself, and transported her gear to the ship; but no sooner
was she come thither than the anchors were weighed and the canvas
spread and the ship set sail.
When the king saw this, he cried out and his wife wept in the
ship and offered to cast herself into the sea; but the Magian
bade the sailors lay hands on her. So they seized her and it was
but a little while ere the night darkened and the ship
disappeared from the king's eyes; whereupon he swooned away for
excess of weeping and lamentation and passed his night bewailing
his wife and children.
When the morning morrowed, he recited the following verses:
How long, O Fate, wilt thou oppress and baffle me?
Tell me, was ever yet a mortal spared of thee?
Behold, my loved ones all are ta'en from me away.
They left me and content forthright forsook my heart,
Upon that day my loves my presence did depart;
My pleasant life for loss of friends is troubled aye.
By Allah, I knew not their worth nor yet how dear
A good it is to have one's loved ones ever near,
Until they left my heart on fire without allay.
Ne'er shall I them forget, nay, nor the day they went
And left me all forlorn, to pine for languishment,
My severance to bewail in torment and dismay.
I make a vow to God, if ever day or night
The herald of good news my hearing shall delight,
Announcing the return o' th' absent ones,
I'll lay Upon their threshold's dust my cheeks and to my soul,
"Take comfort, for the loved are come again,"
I'll say. If for my loved ones' loss I rent my heart for dole,
Before I rent my clothes, reproach me not, I pray.
He abode weeping for the loss of his wife and children till the
morning, when he went forth wandering at a venture, knowing not
what he should do, and gave not over faring along the sea-shore
days and nights, unknowing whither he went and taking no food
therein other than the herbs of the earth and seeing neither man
nor beast nor other living thing, till his travel brought him to
the top of a mountain. He took up his sojourn in the mountain and
abode there [awhile] alone, eating of its fruits and drinking of
its waters. Then he came down thence and fared on along the high
road three days, at the end of which time he came upon tilled
fields and villages and gave not over going till he sighted a
great city on the shore of the sea and came to the gate thereof
at the last of the day. The gatekeepers suffered him not to
enter; so he abode his night anhungred, and when he arose in the
morning, be sat down hard by the gate.
Now the king of the city was dead and had left no son, and the
townsfolk fell out concerning who should be king over them: and
their sayings differed and their counsels, so that turmoil was
like to betide between them by reason of this. At last, after
long dissension, they came to an accord and agreed to leave the
choice to the late king's elephant and that he unto whom he
consented should be king and that they would not contest the
commandment with him. So they made oath of this and on the
morrow, they brought out the elephant and came forth to the
utterward of the city; nor was there man or woman left in the
place but was present at that time. Then they adorned the
elephant and setting up the throne on his back, gave him the
crown in his trunk; and he went round about examining the faces
of the folk, but stopped not with any of them till he came to the
banished king, the forlorn, the exile, him who had lost his
children and his wife, when he prostrated himself to him and
placing the crown on his head, took him up and set him on his
back.
Thereupon the folk all prostrated themselves and gave one another
joy of this and the drums of good tidings beat before him, and he
entered the city [and went on] till he came to the House of
Justice and the audience-hall of the palace and sat down on the
throne of the kingdom, with the crown on his head; whereupon the
folk came in to him to give him joy and offer up prayers for him.
Then he addressed himself, after his wont in the kingship, to
ordering the affairs of the folk and ranging the troops according
to their ranks and looking into their affairs and those of all
the people. Moreover, he released those who were in the prisons
and abolished the customs dues and gave dresses of honour and
bestowed gifts and largesse and conferred favours on the amirs
and viziers and dignitaries, and the chamberlains and deputies
presented themselves before him and did him homage. So the people
of the city rejoiced in him and said, 'Indeed this is none other
than a king of the greatest of the kings.'
Moreover, he assembled the sages and the theologians and the sons
of the kings and devised with them and asked them questions and
problems and examined with them into many things of all fashions
that might direct him to well-doing in the kingly office; and he
questioned them also of subtleties and religious obligations and
of the laws of the kingdom and the fashions of administration and
of that which it behoveth the king to do of looking into the
affairs of the people and repelling the enemy [from the realm]
and fending off his malice with war; wherefore the people's
contentment redoubled and their joy in that which God the Most
High had vouchsafed them of his elevation to the kingship over
them. So he upheld the ordinance of the realm and the affairs
thereof abode established upon the accepted customs.
Now the late king had left a wife and a daughter, and the people
would fain have married the latter to the new king, to the intent
that the kingship might not pass out of the old royal family. So
they proposed to him that he should take her to wife, and he
promised them this, but put them off from him,[FN#64] of his
respect for the covenant he had made with his former wife, to
wit, that he would take none other to wife than herself. Then he
betook himself to fasting by day and standing up by night [to
pray], giving alms galore and beseeching God (extolled be His
perfection and exalted be He!) to reunite him with his children
and his wife, the daughter of his father's brother.
When a year had elapsed, there came to the city a ship, wherein
were merchants and goods galore. Now it was of their usance, from
time immemorial, that, when there came a ship to the city, the
king sent unto it such of his servants as he trusted in, who took
charge of the goods, so they might be [first of all] shown to the
king, who bought such of them as befitted him and gave the
merchants leave to sell the rest. So he sent, as of wont, one who
should go up to the ship and seal up the goods and set over them
who should keep watch over them.
To return to the queen his wife. When the Magian fled with her,
he proffered himself to her and lavished unto her wealth galore,
but she rejected his suit and was like to slay herself for
chagrin at that which had befallen and for grief for her
separation from her husband. Moreover, she refused meat and drink
and offered to cast herself into the sea; but the Magian shackled
her and straitened her and clad her in a gown of wool and said to
her, 'I will continue thee in misery and abjection till thou obey
me and consent to my wishes.' So she took patience and looked for
God to deliver her from the hand of that accursed one; and she
ceased not to travel with him from place to place till he came
with her to the city wherein her husband was king and his goods
were put under seal.
Now the woman was in a chest and two youths of the pages of the
late king, who were now in the new king's service, were those who
had been charged with the guardianship of the vessel and the
goods. When the evening evened on them, the two youths fell
a-talking and recounted that which had befallen them in their
days of childhood and the manner of the going forth of their
father and mother from their country and royal estate, whenas the
wicked overcame their land, and [called to mind] how they had
gone astray in the forest and how fate had made severance between
them and their parents; brief, they recounted their story, from
beginning to end. When the woman heard their talk, she knew that
they were her very sons and cried out to them from the chest,
saying, 'I am your mother such an one, and the token between you
and me is thus and thus.' The young men knew the token and
falling upon the chest, broke the lock and brought out their
mother, who strained them to her breast, and they fell upon her
and swooned away, all three.
When they came to themselves, they wept awhile and the folk
assembled about them, marvelling at that which they saw, and
questioned them of their case. So the young men vied with each
other who should be the first to discover the story to the folk;
and when the Magian saw this, he came up, crying out, 'Alas!' and
'Woe worth the day!' and said to them, 'Why have ye broken open
my chest? I had in it jewels and ye have stolen them, and this
damsel is my slave-girl and she hath agreed with you upon a
device to take the good.' Then he rent his clothes and called
aloud for succour, saying, 'I appeal to God and to the just king,
so he may quit me of these wrong-doing youths!' Quoth they, 'This
is our mother and thou stolest her.' Then words waxed many
between them and the folk plunged into talk and prate and
discussion concerning their affair and that of the [pretended]
slave-girl, and the strife waxed amain between them, so that [at
last] they carried them up to the king.
When the two young men presented themselves before him and set
forth their case to him and to the folk and the king heard their
speech, he knew them and his heart was like to fly for joyance in
them: the tears poured from his eyes at their sight and that of
his wife, and he thanked God the Most High and praised Him for
that He had reunited [him with] them. Then he dismissed the folk
who were present about him and bade commit the Magian and the
woman and the two youths to his armoury[FN#65] [for the night],
commanding that they should keep guard over them till God caused
the morning morrow, so he might assemble the cadis and the judges
and assessors and judge between them, according to the Holy Law,
in the presence of the four cadis. So they did his bidding and
the king passed the night praying and praising God the Most High
for that which He had vouchsafed him of kingship and puissance
and victory over[FN#66] him who had wronged him and thanking Him
who had reunited him with his family.
When the morning morrowed, he assembled the cadis and judges and
assessors and sending for the Magian and the two youths and their
mother, questioned them of their case, whereupon the two young
men began and said, 'We are the sons of the king Such-an-one and
enemies and wicked men got the mastery of out realm; so our
father fled forth with us and wandered at a venture, for fear of
the enemies.' [And they recounted to him all that had betided
them, from beginning to end.] Quoth he, 'Ye tell a marvellous
story; but what hath [Fate] done with your father?' 'We know not
how fortune dealt with him after our loss,' answered they; and he
was silent.
Then he turned to the woman and said to her, 'And thou, what
sayst thou?' So she expounded to him her case and recounted to
him all that had betided her and her husband, first and last, up
to the time when they took up their abode with the old man and
woman who dwelt on the sea-shore. Then she set out that which the
Magian had practised on her of knavery and how he had carried her
off in the ship and all that had betided her of humiliation and
torment, what while the cadis and judges and deputies hearkened
to her speech. When the king heard the last of his wife's story,
he said, 'Verily, there hath betided thee a grievous matter; but
hast thou knowledge of what thy husband did and what came of his
affair?' 'Nay, by Allah,' answered she; 'I have no knowledge of
him, save that I leave him no hour unremembered in fervent
prayer, and never, whilst I live, will he cease to be to me the
father of my children and my father's brother's son and my flesh
and my blood.' Then she wept and the king bowed his head, whilst
his eyes brimmed over with tears at her story.
Then he raised his head to the Magian and said to him, 'Say thy
say, thou also.' So the Magian said, 'This is my slave-girl, whom
I bought with my money from such a land and for so many dinars,
and I made her my favourite[FN#67] and loved her with an
exceeding love and gave her charge over my good; but she betrayed
me in my substance and plotted with one of my servants to slay
me, tempting him by promising him that she would be his wife.
When I knew this of her and was certified that she purposed
treason against me, I awoke [from my heedlessness] and did with
her that which I did, of fear for myself from her craft and
perfidy; for indeed she is a beguiler with her tongue and she
hath taught these two youths this pretence, by way of trickery
and of her perfidy and malice: so be thou not deluded by her and
by her talk.'
'Thou liest, O accursed one,' cried the king and bade lay hands
on him and clap him in irons. Then he turned to the two youths,
his sons, and strained them to his breast, weeping sore and
saying, 'O all ye who are present of cadis and assessors and
officers of state, know that these twain are my sons and that
this is my wife and the daughter of my father's brother; for that
I was king aforetime in such a region.' And he recounted to them
his history from beginning to end, nor is there aught of profit
in repetition; whereupon the folk cried out with weeping and
lamentation for the stress of that which they heard of marvellous
chances and that rare story. As for the king's wife, he caused
carry her into his palace and lavished upon her and upon her sons
all that behoved and beseemed them of bounties, whilst the folk
flocked to offer up prayers for him and give him joy of [his
reunion with] his wife and children.
When they had made an end of pious wishes and congratulations,
they besought the king to hasten the punishment of the Magian and
heal their hearts of him with torment and humiliation. So he
appointed them for a day on which they should assemble to witness
his punishment and that which should betide him of torment, and
shut himself up with his wife and sons and abode thus private
with them three days, during which time they were sequestered
from the folk. On the fourth day the king entered the bath, and
coming forth, sat down on the throne of his kingship, with the
crown on his head, whereupon the folk came in to him, according
to their wont and after the measure of their several ranks and
degrees, and the amirs and viziers entered, ay, and the
chamberlains and deputies and captains and men of war and the
falconers and armbearers. Then he seated his two sons, one on his
right and the other on his left hand, whilst all the folk stood
before him and lifted up their voices in thanksgiving to God the
Most High and glorification of Him and were strenuous in prayer
for the king and in setting forth his virtues and excellences.
He returned them the most gracious of answers and bade carry the
Magian forth of the town and set him on a high scaffold that had
been builded for him there; and he said to the folk, 'Behold, I
will torture him with all kinds of fashions of torment.' Then he
fell to telling them that which he had wrought of knavery with
the daughter of his father's brother and what he had caused
betide her of severance between her and her husband and how he
had required her of herself, but she had sought refuge against
him with God (to whom belong might and majesty) and chose rather
humiliation than yield to his wishes, notwithstanding stress of
torment; neither recked she aught of that which he lavished to
her of wealth and raiment and jewels.
When the king had made an end of his story, he bade the
bystanders spit in the Magian's face and curse him; and they did
this. Then he bade cut out his tongue and on the morrow he bade
cut off his ears and nose and pluck out his eyes. On the third
day he bade cut off his hands and on the fourth his feet; and
they ceased not to lop him limb from limb, and each member they
cast into the fire, after its cutting-off, before his face, till
his soul departed, after he had endured torments of all kinds and
fashions. The king bade crucify his trunk on the city-wall three
days' space; after which he let burn it and reduce its ashes to
powder and scatter them abroad in the air.
Then the king summoned the cadi and the witnesses and bade them
many the old king's daughter and sister to his own sons; so they
married them, after the king had made a bride-feast three days
and displayed their brides to them from eventide to peep of day.
Then the two princes went in to their brides and did away their
maidenhead and loved them and were vouchsafed children by them.
As for the king their father, he abode with his wife, their
mother, what while God (to whom belong might and majesty) willed,
and they rejoiced in reunion with each other. The kingship
endured unto them and glory and victory, and the king continued
to rule with justice and equity, so that the people loved him and
still invoked on him and on his sons length of days and durance;
and they lived the most delightsome of lives till there came to
them the Destroyer of Delights and Sunderer of Companies, He who
layeth waste the palaces and peopleth the tombs; and this is all
that hath come down to us of the story of the king and his wife
and children. Nor," added the vizier, "if this story be a solace
and a diversion, is it pleasanter or more diverting than that of
the young man of Khorassan and his mother and sister."
When King Shah Bekht heard this story, it pleased him and he bade
the vizier go away to his own house.