You must know, ‘ifrit, that once upon a time in the old days in the land of Ruman there was a king called Yunan in the city of Fars. He was a wealthy and dignified man with troops and guards of all races, but he was also a leper, who had taken medicines of various kinds and used ointments, but whose illness doctors and men of learning had been unable to cure.
There was an elderly physician known as Duban the sage, who had studied the books of the Greeks, the Persians, the Arabs and the Syrians. He was a master of medicine and of astronomy and was conversant with the fundamental principles of his subject, with a knowledge of what was useful and what was harmful. He knew the herbs and plants that were hurtful and those that were helpful, as well as having a mastery of philosophy, together with all branches of medicine and other sciences. When this man arrived at the city, within a few days he had heard that the king was suffering from leprosy and that no doctor or man of learning had been able to cure him. He spent the night thinking over the problem, and when dawn broke he put on his most splendid clothes and went to the king, kissing the ground before him and calling eloquently for the continuance of his glory and good fortune. After introducing himself, he went on: ‘I have heard, your majesty, of the disease that has afflicted you and that, although you have been treated by many doctors, they have been unable to remove it. I shall cure you without giving you any medicine to drink or applying any ointments.’
Yunan was amazed to hear what he had to say and asked how he was going to do that, promising to enrich him and his children’s children. ‘I shall shower favours on you,’ he said, ‘and grant you all your wishes, taking you as a boon companion and a dear friend.’ He then presented Duban with a robe of honour and treated him with favour, before asking: ‘Are you really going to cure my leprosy without medicines or ointment?’ Duban repeated that he would and the astonished king asked when this would be, urging him to be quick. ‘To hear is to obey,’ replied Duban, promising to do this the very next day.
Duban now went to the city, where he rented a house in which he deposited his books, his medicines and his drugs. He took some of the latter and placed them in a polo stick, for which he made a handle, and he used his skill to design a ball. The next day, after he had finished, he went into the presence of the king, kissed the ground before him, and told him to ride out to the polo ground and play a game. The king was accompanied by the emirs, chamberlains, viziers and officers of state, and before he had taken his seat on the ground, Duban came up to him and handed him the stick. ‘Take this,’ he said. ‘Hold it like this and when you ride on to the field, hit the ball with a full swing until the palm of your hand begins to sweat, together with the rest of your body. The drug will then enter through your palm and spread through the rest of you. When you have finished and the drug has penetrated, go back to your palace, wash in the baths and then go to sleep, for you will have been cured. That is all.’
At that, the king took the stick from him and mounted, holding it in his hand. He threw the ball ahead of him and rode after it, hitting it as hard as he could when he caught up with it, and then following it up and hitting it again until the palm of his hand and the rest of his body became sweaty because of his grip on the stick. When Duban saw that the drug had penetrated into the king’s body, he told him to go back to his palace and bathe immediately. The king went back straight away and ordered that the baths be cleared for him. This was done, and house boys and mamluks hurried up to him and prepared clothes for him to wear. He then entered the baths, washed himself thoroughly and dressed before coming out, after which he rode back to his palace and fell asleep.
So much for him, but as for Duban the sage, he returned to spend the night in his house, and in the morning he went to ask permission to see the king. On being allowed to enter, he went in, kissed the ground before him and addressed him with these verses which he chanted:
Virtues are exalted when you are called their father,
A title that none other may accept.
The brightness shining from your face removes
The gloom that shrouds each grave affair.
This face of yours will never cease to gleam,
Although the face of Time may frown.
Your liberality has granted me the gifts
That rain clouds shower down on the hills.
Your generosity has destroyed your wealth,
Until you reached the heights at which you aimed.
When Duban had finished these lines, the king stood up and embraced him, before seating him by his side and presenting him with splendid robes of honour. This was because when he had left the baths he had looked at his body and found it, to his great delight and relief, pure and silver white, showing no trace of leprosy. In the morning, he had gone to his court and taken his seat on his royal throne, the chamberlains and officers of state all standing up for him, and it was then that Duban had come in. The king had risen quickly for him, and after the sage had been seated by his side, splendid tables of food were set out and he ate with the king and kept him company for the rest of the day. The king then made him a present of two thousand dinars, in addition to the robes of honour and other gifts, after which he mounted him on his own horse.
Duban went back to his house, leaving the king filled with admiration for what he had done and saying: ‘This man treated me externally without using any ointment. By God, that is skill of a high order! He deserves gifts and favours and I shall always treat him as a friend and companion.’ The king passed a happy night, gladdened by the soundness of his body and his freedom from disease. The next day, he went out and sat on his throne, while his state officials stood and the emirs and viziers took their seats on his right and his left. He asked for Duban, who entered and kissed the ground before him, at which the king got up, greeted him, seated him by his side and ate with him. He then presented him with more robes of honour as well as gifts, and talked with him until nightfall, when he gave him another five robes of honour together with a thousand dinars, after which Duban went gratefully home.
The next morning, the king came to his court, where he was surrounded by his emirs, viziers and chamberlains. Among the viziers was an ugly and ill-omened man, base, miserly and so envious that he was in love with envy. When this man saw that the king had taken Duban as an intimate and had rewarded him with favours, he was jealous and planned to do him an injury. For, as the sayings have it: ‘No one is free of envy’ and ‘Injustice lurks in the soul; strength shows it and weakness hides it.’
This vizier came up to King Yunan, kissed the ground before him and said: ‘King of the age, I have grown up surrounded by your bounty and I have some serious advice for you. Were I to conceal it from you, I would show myself to be a bastard, but if you tell me to give it to you, I shall do so.’ Yunan was disturbed by this and said: ‘What is this advice of yours?’ The vizier replied: ‘Great king, it was a saying of the ancients that Time was no friend to those who did not look at the consequences of their actions. I have observed that your majesty has wrongly shown favour to an enemy who is looking to destroy your kingdom. You have treated this man with generosity and done him the greatest honour, taking him as an intimate, something that fills me with apprehension.’
Yunan was uneasy; his colour changed and he asked the vizier who he was talking about. ‘If you are asleep, wake up,’ the vizier told him, and went on: ‘I am talking about the sage Duban.’ ‘Damn you!’ exclaimed Yunan. ‘This is my friend and the dearest of people to me, for he cured me through something that I held in my hand from a disease that no other doctor could treat. His like is not to be found in this age or in this world, from west to east. You may accuse him, but today I am going to assign him pay and allowances, with a monthly income of a thousand dinars, while even if I divided my kingdom with him, this would be too little. I think that it is envy that has made you say this, reminding me of the story of King Sindbad.’
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say.
> When it was the fifth night, Dunyazad asked her sister to finish the story if she was not too sleepy, AND SHAHRAZAD SAID:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that King Yunan accused his vizier of being jealous of Duban and wanting to have him killed. ‘Then after that I would regret it,’ Yunan added, ‘as King Sindbad regretted killing his falcon.’ ‘Excuse me, your majesty,’ said the vizier, ‘but how was that?’ YUNAN WENT ON:
You must know that there was a Persian king with a passion for enjoyment and amusement, who had a fondness for hunting. He had reared a falcon which was his constant companion by night and by day, and which would spend the night perched on his wrist. He would take it hunting with him and he had a golden bowl made for it which he hung round its neck and from which it could drink. One day the chief falconer came to where he was sitting and told him that it was time to go out hunting. The king gave the orders and went off with the falcon on his wrist until he and his party reached a wadi, where they spread out their hunting cordon. Trapped in this was a gazelle and the king threatened that anyone who allowed it to leap over his head would be put to death. When the cordon was narrowed, the gazelle came to where the king was posted, supported itself on its hindlegs and placed its forelegs on its chest as though it was kissing the ground before him. He bent his head towards it and it then jumped over him, making for the open country. He noticed that his men were looking at him and winking at each other and when he asked his vizier what this meant, the man explained: ‘They are pointing out that you said that if anyone let the gazelle jump over his head, he would be killed.’
The king then swore that he would hunt it down and he rode off in pursuit, following the gazelle until he came to a mountain. There it was about to pass through a cleft when the king loosed his falcon at it and the bird clawed at its eyes, blinding and dazing it, so that the king could draw his mace and knock it over with a single blow. He then dismounted and cut its throat, after which he skinned it and tied it to his saddlebow. As this was in the noonday heat and the region was desolate and waterless, both the king and his horse were thirsty by now. The king scouted round and discovered a tree from which what looked like liquid butter was dripping. Wearing a pair of kid gloves, he took the bowl from the falcon’s neck, filled it with this liquid and set it in front of the bird, but it knocked the bowl and overturned it. The king took it and filled it again, thinking that the falcon must be thirsty, but the same thing happened when he put it down a second time. This annoyed him and he went a third time to fill the bowl and take it to his horse, but this time the falcon upset it with its wing. The king cursed it, exclaiming: ‘You unluckiest of birds, you have stopped me drinking, and have stopped yourself and the horse.’ He then struck off its wing with a blow from his sword, but the bird raised its head as though to say by its gesture: ‘Look at the top of the tree.’ The king raised his eyes and what he saw there was a brood of vipers whose poison was dripping down. Immediately regretting what he had done, he mounted his horse and rode back to his pavilion, bringing with him the gazelle, which he handed to the cook, telling him to take it and roast it. As he sat on his chair with the falcon on his wrist, it drew its last breath and died, leaving its master to exclaim with sorrow for having killed it, when it had saved his life. So ends the story of King Sindbad.
‘Great king,’ the vizier said, ‘Sindbad acted out of necessity and I can see nothing wrong in that. I myself am acting out of sympathy for you, so that you may realize that I am right, for otherwise you may meet the same fate as the vizier who schemed against the prince.’ ‘How was that?’ the king asked, AND THE VIZIER SAID:
You must know, your majesty, that there was a vizier in the service of a certain king with a son who was passionately fond of hunting. This vizier had been ordered to accompany the prince wherever he went, and so, when he went off to hunt one day, the vizier rode with him. While they were riding they caught sight of a huge beast and the vizier encouraged the prince to pursue it. The prince rode after it until he was out of sight and the beast then vanished into the desert, leaving the prince with no idea of where to go. Just then, ahead of him he saw a weeping girl and when he asked her who she was, she told him: ‘I am the daughter of one of the kings of India and while I was in this desert I became drowsy. Then, before I knew what was happening, I had fallen off my beast and was left alone, not knowing what to do.’
When the prince heard this, he felt sorry for the girl and took her up behind him on the back of his horse. On his way, he passed a ruined building and the girl said she wanted to relieve herself. He set her down, but she was taking so long that he followed her, only to discover that, although he had not realized it, she was a female ghul and was telling her children: ‘I have brought you a fat young man today.’ ‘Fetch him to us, mother,’ they said, ‘so that we can swallow him down.’ On hearing this, the prince shuddered, fearing for his life and certain that he was going to die. He went back and the ghula came out and, seeing him panic-stricken and shivering, she asked why he was afraid. ‘I have an enemy whom I fear,’ he told her. ‘You call yourself a prince?’ she asked, and when he said yes, she went on: ‘Why don’t you buy him off with money?’ ‘He won’t accept money but wants my life,’ he told her, adding: ‘I am afraid of him and I have been wronged.’ ‘In that case, if what you say is true, then ask help from God,’ she said, ‘for He will protect you against your enemy’s evil and the evil that you fear from him.’ At that the prince lifted his head towards heaven and said: ‘God Who answers the prayers of those in distress when they call on You, and Who clears away evil, may You help me against my enemy and remove him from me, for You have power to do what You wish.’
After hearing the prince’s prayer, the ghula left him. He went back to his father and when he told him about the vizier’s advice, his father summoned the man and had him killed. As for you, your majesty, if you put your trust in this sage, he will see to it that you die the worst of deaths, and it will be the man whom you have well treated and taken as a friend who will destroy you. Don’t you see that he cured your disease externally through something you held in your hand, so how can you be sure that he won’t kill you by something else you hold?
‘What you say is right, vizier, my sound advisor,’ agreed the king, ‘for this man has come as a spy to destroy me and if he could cure me with something I held, it may be that he can kill me with something that I smell.’
Then he asked the vizier what was to be done about Duban. The vizier said: ‘Send for him immediately, telling him to come here, and when he does, cut off his head and then you will be safe from any harm he may intend to do you. Betray him before he betrays you.’ The king agreed with the vizier, and sent for Duban, who came gladly, not knowing what God the Merciful had ordained. This was as the poet said:
You who fear your fate, be at your ease;
Entrust your affairs to Him Who has stretched out the earth.
What is decreed by fate will come about,
And you are safe from what is not decreed.
Duban the wise came into the presence of the king and recited:
If I do not show gratitude
In accordance with part, at least, of your deserts,
Tell me for whom I should compose my poetry and my prose.
Before I asked, you granted me
Favours that came with no delay and no excuse.
Why then do I not give you your due of praise,
Lauding your generosity in secret and in public?
I shall record the benefits you heaped on me,
Lightening my cares, but burdening my back.
He followed this with another poem:
Turn aside from cares, entrusting your affairs to fate;
Rejoice in the good that will come speedily to you,
So that you may forget all that is past.
There is many a troublesome affair
Whose aftermath will leave you in content.
God acts according to His will;
Do not oppo
se your God.
He also recited:
Leave your affairs to God, the Gentle, the Omniscient,
And let your heart rest from all worldly care.
Know that things do not go as you wish;
They follow the decree of God, the King.
He then recited:
Be of good cheer, relax; forget your cares;
Cares eat away the resolute man’s heart.
Planning is no help to a slave who has no power.
Abandon this and live in happiness.
The king asked him: ‘Do you know why I have sent for you?’ ‘No one knows what is hidden except for God,’ Duban replied. ‘I have sent for you,’ said the king, ‘in order to kill you and take your life.’ This astonished Duban, who said: ‘Why should you kill me, your majesty, and what is my crime?’ ‘I have been told that you are a spy,’ answered the king, ‘and that you have come to murder me. I am going to kill you before you can do the same to me.’ The king then called for the executioner and said: ‘Cut off this traitor’s head, so that we may be freed from his evil-doing.’ ‘Spare me,’ said Duban, ‘and God will spare you; do not kill me, lest He kill you.’
He then repeated what I repeated to you, ‘ifrit, but you would not give up your intention to kill me. Similarly, the king insisted: ‘I shall not be safe unless I put you to death. You cured me with something that I held in my hand, and I cannot be sure that you will not kill me with something that I smell or in some other way.’ Duban said: ‘My reward from you, O king, is the reward of good by evil,’ but the king insisted: ‘You must be killed without delay.’
When Duban was certain that the king was going to have him killed, he wept in sorrow for the good that he had done to the undeserving, as the poet has said:
You can be sure that Maimuna has no sense,
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1 Page 6
