Tales of the Marvellous and News of the Strange (Hardcover Classics)

by Malcolm C (Tr Lyons

  ‘I regretted what I had said and I told the emir that I hadn’t known that she would tell this lie about me, but everyone there cursed me and asked God to clear them of any blood debt for me, saying: “This is a Magian, who deserves to be stoned to death.” ‘Arus said: “I don’t want him killed, but let the emir order him to be imprisoned, for this is what he deserves.”

  ‘The emir ordered that I be given two hundred lashes, chained and put in prison, where I am now in my third year. When you wanted to free me just now I told you: “Have pity on me and send me back to prison so I may smell the scent of this world and enjoy living until death comes, as this is better for me than meeting the damned ‘Arus, who will kill me.” This is what she promised to do if she saw me out of prison and this is my story which I have unfolded for you, emir.’

  The narrator continued: When the police chief heard the story of the one-eyed man and this damned woman he left a guard to watch over the man and rode off to the king’s palace, where he repeated it from beginning to end. The astonished king ordered the man to be brought to him and when he came the king seated him near to him and told him to go over his story again in the presence of his courtiers and viziers. When he had done this everyone there was amazed and taken aback, and they called for ‘Arus to be put to death. The king asked the man if he knew where ‘Arus was living at the moment and when he said that he did, the police chief went off and, after having identified the house, he came back and said: ‘She is in the house of a merchant with whom she is living as his wife.’

  The king sent ten servants armed with clubs, who brought her to stand in front of him, and when she saw the one-eyed man there she realized what had happened. The king ordered her to unveil and when she did he was amazed by her loveliness, which exceeded the description he had been given. He asked her whether she was ‘Arus al-‘Ara’is and when she said she was he asked whether what the man had said about her was true. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and there is much more that you have not been told.’

  The king asked his courtiers what they thought should be done about her, and the vizier got up and said: ‘My advice, Your Majesty, is that we should dig a ditch for her here, fill it with firewood, light it, wait till it is glowing and then throw her into it in front of you.’ Everyone approved, agreeing that the vizier’s advice was good.

  The king gave the order, and all this was done, but as the servants came forward to seize ‘Arus, she said: ‘Wait a little, O king, and hear what I have to say.’ ‘Speak,’ said the king, ‘but I know that there cannot be anything good in what you say.’ ‘O king,’ she said, ‘I know for certain that I must suffer this punishment that you have prepared for me, but there are four things that I want you to do, one for me, one concerning you and two that are between me and this one-eyed man.’

  ‘Tell me what you want,’ the king said. ‘Get someone to bring me a jug of water so that I can perform the ritual ablution before praying with two rak‘as, and so ending my life and my work.’ The king told a servant to give her what she wanted, and when he had brought her the water she went aside and began to perform the ablution. When she had finished she got up and gave the servant the jug with the remains of the water still in it. ‘Keep the water,’ she told him, ‘and when you see that the king has had me thrown into the fire, pour it in after me.’ The man, who didn’t know what she had done with the water, promised to do this.

  ‘Arus went back to the king, who asked her what she wanted from him. She said: ‘The merchant from whose house you took me killed a cousin of his and buried him in its orchard. Put him to death for this and take his goods and his wealth for yourself.’ The king laughed at what she had said about her husband as he was astonished at how eager she was to have people destroyed. He ordered the man to be brought to him and when this was done he asked him why he had killed his cousin. The man was so bewildered that he lost his wits and could not answer, at which the king ordered men to go to the orchard and if they found a buried corpse they were to tell him. They went off to dig there and when they came back they told him that they had found it.

  The king ordered the man to be kept on one side until he had finished with the affair of ‘Arus and the one-eyed man. This was done and he then asked ‘Arus what were the two things between her and the man. She said: ‘First ask him to absolve me of responsibility for what happened between us.’ The king put the question to him, saying that it would not do her any good, and the man agreed to her request, while she in her turn absolved him. The king was astonished at how scrupulously she was treating him after the terrible things that she had done in her lifetime. He asked what the second thing was, and she said: ‘King, I had a leaden ring that I passed to him long ago and I want you to ask him to give it back, while I myself have a ring of his inscribed with the name of the Great and Glorious God. Tell him to take it back from me, as it is better that he should make good use of it than that it should be burned with me.’ ‘You could not have asked for anything simpler,’ the king replied.

  He told the man to hand her her ring and take back his own. All the while the fire was burning in the pit, and when the man came near the edge ‘Arus stretched out her hand as though to take the ring. She talked to him for a time but then gave him so violent a tug that he fell head first into the fire, after which she jumped in after him, and they were both burned up.

  The king laughed so heartily that he fell over backwards in astonishment at what she had done with the poor man. ‘By God,’ he exclaimed, ‘that damned woman did nothing to anyone that was more remarkable than how she treated this poor fellow. She kept her promise that she would have him burned, and if she had not thrown him in I would have done it myself because of the blindness of his heart and the fact that he followed her time after time, trusting her in spite of the fact that he knew what she was doing.’

  He then called for her husband, the merchant, and asked him: ‘Did this damned woman tell you any of her story?’ When he said that she had, the king asked why he had not been on his guard against her and had then gone on to kill his cousin. When the man had nothing to say, the king told his servants to throw him into the fire with ‘Arus, saying that he had shown himself to be more blind than the one-eyed man. When this had been done all the man’s possessions were confiscated on his orders.

  The assembly was about to break up when a servant came up and said: ‘May God preserve the fortune of the king! This woman, ‘Arus, asked your permission to purify herself before praying. You granted her this, and I gave her the water. When she had finished she gestured to me and said: “When you see me in the fire, scatter the water left over from my ablution after me.” I did nothing that she told me without your leave, but she has now been burned, so what are your orders?’

  The king was astonished and taken aback, and as he didn’t know what to say or what ‘Arus had meant by this, he asked the vizier what he should do. ‘What can happen from this?’ the vizier asked; ‘Throw it in after her, may God and everyone else curse her.’ ‘Throw it into the pit as she told you,’ said the king, ‘so that we can see what she wanted.’

  The servant went up and threw the water over the flames. ‘Arus had put in it some of the resin that the jinni had been in the habit of collecting from green trees, which would instantly burn whatever it touched. As soon as the servant had poured it out, the fire blazed up and with lightning speed it reached the roof and the sides of the council chamber. The servant ran off in panic but he was caught by a tongue of fire which burned him to death. The bewildered king jumped up from his throne and he had only just reached safety when the roof fell on the vizier, who had advised him to burn ‘Arus, leaving him buried beneath the debris.

  ‘God damn you, ‘Arus,’ exclaimed the king, ‘for both in your life and after your death you brought misfortune!’

  Tale Eight

  The Story of Budur and ‘Umair

  Son of Jubair al-Shaibani with

  al-Khali‘ the Damascan, with

  News and Poetry about Them
.

  In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful, Who knows better, is Wiser, more Glorious and more Noble

  They say that Harun al-Rashid was very restless one night and summoned Masrur, his executioner. When he arrived quickly the caliph told him that he could not sleep and wanted him to fetch someone to tell him a story that night which might fill the time and dispel his cares and worries. Masrur suggested that he should get up and enjoy a walk in his orchard, with its fine water-wheel, to which the words of the poet could apply:

  I have heard this wheel sighing like a girl

  Who sighs in grief for a lover who has gone.

  It stirs my longing with its memory,

  And from my eyes flow tears, themselves like eyes.

  He said: ‘Then you can look at the birds with their various colours and at the beauty of the roses, as the poet has said:

  Upon the beautiful blue sky

  Pictures of all kinds have been drawn.

  It is as though the moon that shines on us

  Is like a mirror that has been unwrapped.

  We can pass by the Tigris with the sailors lying down in their boats and chanting their various ditties until we fall asleep or morning comes.’

  Harun said that he was not inclined to anything like that, and Ja‘far suggested that they should go up to the roof to look at the blue sky with its interwoven stars and the moon like a round shield of gold held by a negro, as the poet put it:

  As though the rosy cheeks were overcast

  When the lover took his leave and left.

  He went on to point out that the palace contained three hundred girls, harpists, tambourine players, lutists, players on pipes and on rebabs, actresses and reciters. The caliph and his companions could sit in the assembly room; all the girls could come with their instruments and when well-strained wine had been brought in they could all sit eating, drinking and enjoying themselves. ‘You might succumb to the wine,’ he told Harun, ‘or you might fall asleep and wake up next morning with your head still affected by the strength of the wine. This would be as the poet has described it:

  Greetings, spring camp! May the rain fall on you,

  And long may your traces enjoy blessings.

  Within your dwellings flourish songstresses,

  Coquettes who mingle charm with bashfulness.

  [lac.] With cheeks of beauty and dark eyes.

  Wine poured in glasses is like fire,

  And as we sit these glasses seem like stars

  That shine one following another in their course;

  The noise made by its bottles seems to be

  A burst of laughter, showing smiling teeth;

  The colour of the candles imitates

  The body of a lover whose loved one has gone,

  And when the drums are beaten, they recall

  The bells that call the caravan at dawn,

  And when the flute repeats its melody

  It seems that this is played by a whole group,

  While from the sarha comes a different sound

  Like that of frogs that croak in the moonlight,

  And when its strings are touched the lute

  Can tell us what it is they have to say.’

  ‘I have no desire for any of that,’ said Harun, at which Ja‘far suggested that he might bring out chests of jewels and inspect their colours, looking at the reddish-green translucent emeralds. The poet said:

  Five persons and an angel

  Are the noblest of all beneath the sky.

  Whoever loves them lives through them,

  And all perish who have forgotten them.

  There is turquoise blue, of which another said:

  She kissed the blue stone in my ring,

  Saying: ‘Use this when you prepare my shroud.’

  I said: ‘When union with you is no more,

  I shall kiss this with blood and flowing tears.’

  If I wore mourning, I should be afraid

  Of gossip, so my ring shall mourn for me.

  Then there is black, as in the lines:

  I swear by four who bear the name Muhammad,

  And by another four, each named ‘Ali,

  By the two Hasans and by Ja‘far

  And Moses: help me, for I follow them.

  There is the glowing red ruby, as in the lines:

  My redness comes from my heart’s blood;

  Where is there any who lament?

  I come from earth on which Husain was slain.

  We can then inspect the stored treasures from Kush, Oman, Bahrain, Hind and Sind, as well as what comes from Persia, Yemen and Egypt, and we can look at materials from all the lands.’

  When Harun told him that none of this attracted him, he said: ‘Commander of the Faithful, there is only one thing left.’ ‘What is that?’ Harun asked, and Ja‘far told him: ‘My master should cut off his servant Ja‘far’s head, as that might please him and relieve his depression.’ Harun said: ‘I am convinced that there is something that will relax me and remove my worries,’ to which Ja‘far replied that he was at a loss to know what this could be. Harun said: ‘My relative, the Prophet of God, may God bless him and his family and give them peace, said: “The enjoyment of my people lies in three things: that a man should see something that he has never seen before, hear something he has never heard or go where he has never gone.” In Baghdad, Ja‘far, there is nowhere that I have not been and nothing comes to it that I have not seen. So you will have to go out and find someone amongst the guards who is spending the evening in talk and who can tell me a story of infatuated lovers and of a happy outcome to affliction, as this might have the effect I want, and either put me to sleep or pass the time until dawn.’ ‘Commander of the Faithful, to hear is to obey both God and you.’

  Ja‘far went out of the door and saw amongst the guards the shaikh Abu’l-Hasan al-Khali‘ of Damascus, the storyteller, and he went back and told Harun of this. Harun told him to fetch the man, which he did, and Abu’l-Hasan greeted him with respect and invoked God’s mercy on him, saying: ‘Peace be on the Commander of the Faithful, who protects the lands of religion and defends the descendants of Abu Talib. May God smooth your path, give you pleasing gifts and bring you at last to Paradise, while sending your enemies to Hell.’

  He then recited these lines:

  May you enjoy your glory

  While dawn succeeds the night,

  And may you prosper endlessly

  As long as nights shall last.

  Since you are heaven for all men on earth.

  Harun replied: ‘Peace be on those who follow right guidance, fear future destruction, obey the Omnipotent Lord and prefer the next world to this! Sit down, Abu’l-Hasan.’ ‘By God, Commander of the Faithful,’ Abu’l-Hasan replied, ‘I cannot do this until I am told whether I have been called here on this tranquil night for reward or punishment.’ Harun said: ‘You must know, Abu’l-Hasan, that I am suffering from sleeplessness and I want you to tell me a story tonight that I have never yet heard from you which may remove my cares and worries.’ ‘To hear is to obey, Commander of the Faithful,’ said Abu’l-Hasan, adding: ‘Do you want me to tell you of something that I have heard or something that I have seen?’ ‘News is not like sight and what the eye has seen has more truth than what the ear has heard,’ said Harun, ‘so if you have seen something novel, tell me about it.’ ‘On condition that you turn your whole attention, hearing and sight to me,’ said Abu’l-Hasan, and Harun told him: ‘I am both listening to you and looking at you, while my heart is your witness.’ ‘And you are not going to shout out in the room?’ asked Abu’l-Hasan, to which Harun replied: ‘As for that, the guards will not dare make a noise, as they are in awe of me.’

  Abu’l-Hasan then began: ‘The Commander of the Faithful, may God prolong his days, should know that I was in the habit of getting a grant from Muhammad son of Sulaiman al-Rub‘i, the governor of Basra, the guarded city, at a fixed time. I would go to Basra and stay with him for a few days, reciting p
oetry and telling him stories before taking what he gave me and returning to the service of my master, the caliph.

  ‘One year I went there as usual [lac.] and Muhammad instructed his officials and the prominent men to look after me, even telling the cook to give me only what I wanted. I felt a longing for fish and told the cook that this was what I wanted that day. “To hear is to obey,” he said, and soon afterwards fish was brought to me, and I ate my fill. This was followed by a feeling of heaviness which could only be cured by walking or drinking, and I could not drink in Muhammad’s house when he was not there.

  ‘I had gone to Basra on a number of occasions, but this house was all that I knew in the city. Were a Baghdadi friend to ask me whether I had seen the place I would say “yes”, but if he went on to ask if I knew such-and-such a street or such-and-such a square or district, I would have to say “no”, and he would tell me that I was lying and that I had never seen the city in my life. So I told myself that I would commit myself to making a tour of Basra to help my digestion.

  ‘I got up and started to walk round the city streets, but after a time I became terribly thirsty. I told myself that I could get a drink from a water-carrier, but then I thought that the jug of a water-carrier is used by lepers, paralytics and men with bad breath. [lac.] It might be that, if I were unlucky, someone like that might just have used it. So I went on along the road past houses and streets until I came to a small alley with five houses, one pair facing another and a fifth house in the middle. This last one was a sky-scraper with stone benches, mats from ‘Abadan, a door with two teak leaves, a black curtain, an iron knocker and a long hall. When I looked at it I saw that over it were inscribed these lines of poetry:

  House, may no sorrow enter you

  And may Time not betray your lord.

  You are a welcoming house to every guest,

  When he can find no other place to stay.

  I had told myself that I would go up to the door and ask for a jug of water when from within came a voice full of longing, coming from a sad heart. Someone was singing these words: