Night and Horses and the Desert

by Robert Irwin

  Next morning the King’s treasurer went to take some valuables from the royal coffers. He entered the treasury, but found nothing there. He gave a loud cry and fell down fainting; when he recovered himself, he rushed to King Shams-al-Dowlah, crying: ‘Prince of the Faithful, the treasury has been emptied during the night.’

  ‘Dog,’ cried the King, ‘what have you done with all my wealth?’

  ‘By Allah, I have done nothing, nor do I know how it was ransacked,’ he replied. ‘When I was there last night the treasury was full, but this morning all the coffers are clean empty; yet the walls have not been pierced and the locks are unbroken. No thief could have possibly entered there.’

  ‘And the two bags,’ the King shouted, ‘have they also gone?’

  ‘They have,’ replied the treasurer.

  Aghast at these words, the King jumped to his feet and, ordering the old man to follow him, ran to the treasury, which he found quite empty.

  ‘Who dared to rob me?’ exclaimed the infuriated King. ‘Did he not fear my punishment?’

  Blazing with rage, he rushed out of the room and assembled his court. The captains of his army hastened to the King’s presence, each thinking himself the object of his wrath.

  ‘Know,’ exclaimed the King, ‘that my treasury has been plundered in the night. I have yet to catch the thief who has dared to commit so great an outrage.’

  ‘How did it all happen?’ the officers inquired.

  ‘Ask the treasurer,’ shouted the King.

  ‘Yesterday the coffers were full,’ said the treasurer. ‘Today I found them empty. Yet the walls of the treasury have not been pierced, nor the door broken.’

  The courtiers were amazed at the treasurer’s words and did not know what to answer. As they stood in silence before the King, there entered the hall that same officer who had denounced Salem and Seleem.

  ‘Your majesty,’ said he, ‘all night long I have been watching a great multitude of masons at work. By daybreak they had erected an entire building, a palace of unparalleled splendour. Upon inquiry I was informed that it had been built by a man called Judar, who had but recently returned from abroad with vast riches and innumerable slaves and servants. I was also told that he had freed his brothers from prison and now sits like a sultan in his palace.’

  ‘Go, search the prison!’ cried the King to his attendants.

  They went and looked, but saw no trace of the two brothers. Then they came back to inform the King.

  ‘Now I know my enemy,’ the King exclaimed. ‘He that released Salem and Seleem from prison is the man who stole my treasure.’

  ‘And who may that be, your majesty?’ asked the Vizier.

  ‘Their brother Judar,’ replied the King. ‘And he has taken away the two bags. Vizier, send at once an officer with fifty men to seal up all his property and bring the three of them before me, that I may hang them! Do you hear? And quickly, too!’

  ‘Be indulgent,’ said the Vizier. ‘Allah himself is indulgent and never too quick to chastise His servants when they disobey Him. The man who could build a palace in a single night cannot be judged by ordinary standards. Indeed, I greatly fear for the officer whom you would send to him. Therefore have patience until I devise some way of discovering the truth. Then you can deal with these offenders as you think fit, your majesty.’

  ‘Tell me what to do, then,’ said the King.

  ‘I advise your majesty,’ replied the Vizier, ‘to send an officer to him and invite him to the palace. When he is here I shall converse with him in friendly fashion and ask him his news. After that we shall see. If he is indeed a powerful man, we will contrive some-plot against him; if he is just an ordinary rascal, you can arrest him and do what you please with him.’

  ‘Then send one to invite him,’ said the King.

  The Vizier ordered an officer called Othman to go to Judar and invite him to the King’s palace.

  ‘And do not come back without him,’ the King shouted.

  Now this officer was a proud and foolish fellow. When he came to Judar’s palace, he saw a eunuch sitting on a chair outside the gateway. Othman dismounted, but the eunuch remained seated on his chair and paid no heed to the distinguished courtier, despite the fifty soldiers who stood behind him.

  ‘Slave, where is your master?’ the officer cried.

  ‘In the palace,’ replied the eunuch, without stirring from his seat.

  ‘Ill-omened slave,’ exclaimed the angry Othman, ‘are you not ashamed to lounge there like a fool while I am speaking to you?’

  ‘Be off, and hold your tongue,’ the eunuch replied.

  At this the officer flew into a violent rage. He lifted up his mace and made to strike the eunuch, for he did not know that he was a devil. As soon as he saw this movement the doorkeeper sprang upon him, threw him on the ground, and dealt him four blows with his own mace. Indignant at the treatment accorded to their master, the fifty soldiers drew their swords and rushed upon the eunuch.

  ‘Would you draw your swords against me, you dogs?’ he shouted and, falling upon them with the mace, maimed them in every limb. The soldiers took to their heels in panic-stricken flight, and did not stop running until they were far away from the palace. Then the eunuch returned to his chair and sat down at his ease, as though nothing had troubled him.

  Back at the palace the battered Othman related to the King what had befallen him at the hands of Judar’s slave.

  ‘Let a hundred men be sent against him!’ cried the King, bursting with rage.

  A hundred men marched down to Judar’s palace. When they came near, the eunuch leapt upon them with the mace and cudgelled them soundly, so that they turned their backs and fled. Returning to the King, they told him what had happened.

  ‘Let two hundred go down!’ the King exclaimed.

  When these came back, broken and put to rout, the King cried to his vizier: ‘Go down yourself with five hundred and bring me this eunuch at once, together with his master Judar and his brothers!’

  ‘Great King,’ replied the Vizier, ‘I need no troops. I would rather go alone, unarmed.’

  ‘Do what you think fit,’ said the King.

  The Vizier cast aside his weapons and, dressing himself in a white robe, took a rosary in his hand and walked unescorted to Judar’s palace. There he saw the eunuch sitting at the gate; he went up to him and sat down courteously by his side, saying: ‘Peace be with you.’

  ‘And to you peace, human,’ the eunuch replied. ‘What is your wish?’

  On hearing himself addressed as a human, the Vizier realized that the eunuch was a jinnee and trembled with fear.

  ‘Sir, is your master here?’ he asked.

  ‘He is in the palace,’ replied the jinnee.

  ‘Sir,’ said the Vizier, ‘I beg you to go in and say to him: “King Shams-al-Dowlah invites you to a banquet at his palace. He sends you his greeting and requests you to honour him with your presence.”‘

  ‘Wait here while I tell him,’ the jinnee answered.

  The Vizier waited humbly, while the eunuch went into the palace.

  ‘Know, my master,’ he said to Judar, ‘that this morning the King sent to you an officer with fifty guards. I cudgelled him and put his men to flight. Next he sent a hundred, whom I beat, and then two hundred, whom I routed. Now he has sent you his Vizier, unarmed and unattended, to invite you as his guest. What answer shall I give him?’

  ‘Go and bring the Vizier in,’ Judar replied.

  The jinnee led the Vizier into the palace, where he saw Judar seated upon a couch such as no king ever possessed and arrayed in greater magnificence than any sultan. He was confounded at the splendour of the palace and the beauty of its ornaments and furniture, and, Vizier that he was, felt himself a beggar in those surroundings. He kissed the ground before Judar and called down blessings upon him.

  ‘What is your errand, Vizier?’ Judar demanded.

  ‘Sir,’ he answered, ‘your friend King Shams-al-Dowlah sends you his greetings. He desi
res to delight himself with your company, and begs your attendance at a banquet in his palace. Will you do him the honour of accepting his invitation?’

  ‘Since he is my friend,’ returned Judar, ‘give him my salutations and tell him to come and visit me himself.’

  ‘It shall be as you wish,’ the Vizier replied.

  Upon this Judar rubbed the ring and ordered the jinnee to fetch him a splendid robe. The jinnee brought him a robe, and Judar handed it to the Vizier, saying: ‘Put this on. Then go and inform the King what I have told you.’

  The Vizier put on the robe, the like of which he had never worn in all his life, and returned to his master. He gave him an account of all that he had seen, enlarging upon the splendour of the palace and its contents.

  ‘Judar invites you,’ he said.

  To your horses, captains!’ the King exclaimed and, mounting his own steed, rode with his followers to Judar’s house.

  Meanwhile, Judar summoned the servant of the ring and said to him: ‘I require you to bring me from among the jinn a troop of guards in human guise and station them in the courtyard of the palace, so that when the King passes through their ranks his heart may be filled with awe and he may realize that my might is greater than his.’

  At once two hundred stalwart guards appeared in the courtyard, dressed in magnificent armour. When the King arrived and saw the formidable array, his heart trembled with fear. He went up into the palace and found Judar sitting in the spacious hall, surrounded with such grandeur as cannot be found in the courts of kings or sultans. He greeted him and bowed respectfully before him; but Judar neither rose in his honour nor invited him to be seated. The King grew fearful of his host’s intent and, in his embarrassment, did not know whether to sit down or leave.

  ‘Were he afraid of me,’ he thought to himself, ‘he would have shown me more respect. Is it to avenge his brothers’ wrong that he has brought me here?’

  ‘Your majesty,’ Judar said at last, ‘is it proper for a king to oppress his subjects and seize their goods?’

  ‘Sir, do not be angry with me,’ the King replied. ‘It was avarice, and fate, that led me to wrong your brothers. If men could never do wrong, there would be no pardon.’

  He went on begging forgiveness and humbling himself in this fashion until Judar said: ‘Allah forgive you,’ and bade him be seated. Then Judar dressed the King in the robe of safety and ordered his brothers to serve a sumptuous banquet. When they had finished eating, he invested all the courtiers with robes of honour and gave them costly presents. After that the King took leave of him and departed.

  Thenceforth the King visited Judar every day and never held his court except in Judar’s house. Friendship and amity flourished between them and they continued in this state for some time. One day, however, the King said to his vizier: ‘I fear that Judar may kill me and usurp my kingdom.’

  ‘Have no fear of that, your majesty,’ the Vizier answered. ‘Judar will never stoop so low as to rob you of your kingdom, for the wealth and power he enjoys are greater than any king’s. And if you are afraid that he may kill you, give him your daughter in marriage and you and he will be for ever united.’

  ‘Vizier, you shall act as our go-between,’ the King said.

  ‘Gladly, your majesty,’ the Vizier replied, invite him to your palace, and we will spend the evening together in one of the halls. Ask your daughter to put on her finest jewels and walk across the doorway. When Judar sees her he will fall in love with her outright. I will then lean towards him and encourage him by hint and suggestion, as though you know nothing about the matter, until he asks you for the girl. Once they are married, a lasting bond will be ensured between you and, when he dies, the greater part of his riches will be yours.’

  ‘You have spoken wisely, my Vizier,’ said the King.

  He thereupon ordered a banquet to be given, and invited him. Judar came to the royal palace and they sat feasting in the great hall till evening.

  The King had instructed his wife to array the Princess in her finest ornaments and walk with her past the doorway. She did as the King bade her and walked past the hall with her daughter. When Judar caught sight of the girl in her incomparable beauty, he uttered a deep sigh and felt his limbs grow numb and languid. Love took possession of his heart, and he turned pale with overpowering passion.

  ‘I trust you are well, my master,’ said the Vizier in a whisper. ‘Why do I see you so distressed?’

  ‘That girl,’ Judar murmured, ‘whose daughter is she?’

  ‘She is the daughter of your friend the King,’ replied the Vizier, if you like her, I will ask him if he will marry her to you.’

  ‘Do that, Vizier,’ Judar said, ‘and you shall be handsomely rewarded. I will give the King whatever dowry he demands and the two of us will be friends and kinsmen.’

  ‘Allah willing, you shall have her,’ the Vizier replied.

  Then, turning to the King, he whispered to him.

  ‘Your majesty,’ he said, ‘your friend Judar desires to marry your daughter, the Princess Asiah. Pray accept my plea on his behalf. He offers you whatever dowry you wish to ask.’

  ‘I have already received the dowry,’ the King answered. ‘My daughter is a slave in his service. I marry her to him. If he accepts her I shall be greatly honoured.’

  Next morning the King assembled his court, and in the presence of Sheikh al-Islam Judar wedded the Princess. He presented the King with the bag of gold and jewels as a dowry for his daughter and the marriage-contract was drawn up amidst great rejoicings. Judar and the King lived together in harmony and mutual trust for many months; and when the King died the troops requested his son-in-law to be their sultan. At first Judar declined, but when they continued to press him he accepted and was proclaimed their king. He built a great mosque over the tomb of Shams-al-Dowlah and endowed it munificently. Judar’s house was in the Yemenite Quarter, but since the beginning of his reign the entire district has been known as Judariyah.

  Judar appointed Salem and Seleem his viziers, and the three of them lived in peace for one year, no more. At the end of that time Salem said to Seleem: ‘How long are we to stay as we are? Are we to spend the whole of our lives as servants to Judar? We shall never taste the joy of sovereignty or power as long as Judar is alive. Can we not kill him and take the ring and the bag from him?’

  ‘You are cleverer than I am,’ Seleem replied. ‘Think out some plot for us whereby we can destroy him.’

  ‘If I contrive to bring about his death,’ said Salem, ‘will you agree that I shall become sultan and you chief vizier? Will you accept the magic bag and let me keep the ring?’

  ‘I agree to that,’ Seleem replied.

  Thus for the sake of power and worldly gain, the two conspired to kill their brother. They betook themselves to Judar and said to him: ‘Brother, will you do us the honour of dining with us this evening?’

  ‘To whose house shall I come?’ he asked.

  ‘To mine,’ Salem replied. ‘Then you can go to my brother’s.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Judar.

  He went with Seleem to Salem’s house, where a poisoned feast was spread before him. As soon as he had swallowed a mouthful his flesh fell about his bones in little pieces. Salem thereupon rose to pull the ring off his finger, and, seeing that it would not yield, cut off the finger with his knife. Then he rubbed the ring, and the jinnee appeared before him, saying: i am here! Demand what you will.’

  ‘Take hold of my brother and put him to instant death,’ Salem said. ‘Then carry the two bodies and throw them down before the troops.’

  The jinnee put Seleem to death, then carried out the two corpses and cast them down in the midst of the palace hall, where the army chiefs were eating. Alarmed at the sight, the captains lifted their hands from the food and cried to the jinnee: ‘Who has killed the King and his vizier?’

  ‘Their brother Salem,’ he replied.

  At that moment Salem himself entered the hall.

  ‘Capt
ains,’ he said, ‘eat and set your minds at rest. I have become master of this ring, which I have taken from my brother Judar. The jinnee who stands before you is its faithful servant. I ordered him to kill my brother Seleem so that he should not scheme against my throne. He was a traitor and I feared he would betray me. Judar being dead, I am your only King. Will you accept my rule, or shall I order this jinnee to slay you all, great and small alike?’

  The captains answered: ‘We accept you as our King.’

  Salem gave orders for the burial of his brothers, and assembled his court. Some of the people walked in the funeral and some in Salem’s procession. When he reached the audience-hall, Salem sat upon the throne and received the allegiance of his subjects. Then said he: i wish to take in marriage my brother’s wife.’

  ‘That may not be done,’ they answered, ‘until the period of her widowhood has expired.’

  But Salem cried: ‘I will not hear of such trifles. Upon my life, I will go in to her this very night.’

  Thus they wrote the marriage-contract and sent to inform Judar’s widow.

  ‘Let him come,’ she said.

  When he entered, she welcomed him with a great show of joy. But she mixed poison in his drink and so destroyed him.

  Shams-al-Dowlah’s daughter took the ring and broke it to pieces, so that none should ever use it. She also tore the magic bag. Then she sent to inform Sheikh-al-Islam of what had happened and to bid the people choose a new king.

  N. J. Dawood (trans.), Tales from the Thousand and One Nights

  (Harmondsworth, 1973), PP. 350–71

  Even without taking account of the Nights, the Mamluk period was a golden age for the production of popular fiction. In particular there was a vogue for lengthy poetic epics featuring Arab paladins who battled against Byzantines, Crusaders and Zoroastrians – not to mention sorcerers, dragons and seductresses. Such enthusiasm for pseudo-historical fiction aroused disapproval in pious circles. A fourteenth-century Syrian religious scholar advised copyists not to copy deceptive books ‘by which Allah does not offer any useful thing, such as Sirat 'Antar and other fabricated things’. Quite a number of heroic epics circulated in the late Middle Ages, among them Sirat Dhat-al-Himma, Sayf al-Tijan, Sirat al-Zahir and Sirat Sayf bin Dhi Yazan. However, the Sirat 'Antar seems to have been the best known of these epics, as well as the most accomplished in literary terms. Its stories were lightly based on the exploits of the real-life warrior and poet of pre-Islamic times, 'Antara ibn Shaddad. 'Antara (but 'Antar in the folk epic) had been born to an Arab father, but his mother was an Abyssinian slave. Thus 'Antar was one of the Ghurab, or ‘Crows’, and in early episodes of the epic he has to perform many valorous feats in order to be fully accepted by his fellow tribesmen as one of them. More acts of heroism have to be accomplished before he can win the hand of Abla, his uncle’s daughter. Although 'Antar started out as a saga of inter-tribal warfare in the Arabian desert, later episodes took the hero to Europe, Africa, India and even into the skies (thanks to a box drawn up by eagles). Antar fought for the Byzantines against the Franks and tangled with heroes of Persian legend. His fantasy conquests can be seen as prefiguring the real ones made by Islamic armies in the seventh and eighth centuries. At the opening of the epic it is claimed that it was composed by the famous ninth-century philologist al-Asm'i. However, its real authors were anonymous figures who transmitted and added to the epic over several centuries. A version of 'Antar certainly existed as early as the twelfth century, though what survives today seems to have been heavily revised in the fourteenth century, probably in Egypt. It is rich in excitement and colour – and also very long and somewhat shapeless. One printed version in Arabic runs to thirty-two volumes.