‘Ungrateful wretch!’ the fisherman cried. ‘Why do you wish my death? What have I done to deserve it? Have I not brought you up from the depths of the sea and released you from your imprisonment?’
But the jinnee commanded, ‘Choose the manner of your death and the way that I shall kill you. Come, waste no time!’
‘But how have I wronged you?’
‘Listen to my story, and you will know the reason,’ the jinnee answered.
‘Be brief, then, I beg you,’ the fisherman pleaded, ‘for you have wrung my soul with fear.’
‘Know,’ the giant began, ‘that I am one of the rebel demons who rose up in arms against King Solomon. The King sent to me his commander in chief, who captured me, despite my power, and led me in fetters before his master. Invoking the name of God, Solomon ordered me to embrace his faith and pledge him absolute obedience. I refused, and he imprisoned me in this bottle, and set upon it a seal of lead bearing the name of the Most High. Then he sent for several of his faithful demons, who carried me away and cast me into the middle of the sea. In the ocean depths I vowed, “I will bestow eternal riches on him who sets me free!” But a hundred years passed away and no one freed me. In the second hundred years of my imprisonment I said, “For him who frees me I will open up the buried treasures of the earth!” And yet no one freed me. Whereupon I flew into a rage and swore, “I will kill the man who sets me free, allowing him only to choose the manner of his death!” Now it was you who set me free; therefore prepare to die and choose the way that I shall kill you.’
‘Oh, wretched luck, that I should be the one to free you!’ the fisherman exclaimed. ‘Spare me, mighty jinnee, and Allah will spare you; kill me, and so will Allah destroy you!’
‘You have freed me,’ said the jinnee; ‘therefore you must die.’
‘Noble jinnee, will you repay good with evil?’
‘Enough of this babble! Kill you I must.’
At this point the fisherman thought to himself, ‘Though I am only a helpless human being and he is a powerful jinnee, I may yet have sense enough to outwit him.’ To the monster he said, ‘Before you kill me, I beg you in the Name of the Most High, engraved on Solomon’s seal, to answer me one question truthfully.’
The jinnee trembled at the mention of the Name, and, when he had promised to answer truthfully, the fisherman asked, ‘How could this bottle, which is scarcely big enough to hold your hand or foot, ever contain your entire body?’
‘Do you doubt that?’ the jinnee roared indignantly.
‘I will never believe it,’ the fisherman replied, ‘until I have seen you enter this bottle with my own eyes.’
Upon this the jinnee shook from head to foot and dissolved into a column of smoke, which gradually wound itself into the bottle and disappeared within. At once the fisherman snatched up the leaden stopper and thrust it into the mouth of the vessel. Then he called out to the jinnee, ‘Now you must choose the manner of your death and the way that I shall kill you. Upon my life, I will throw you back into the sea, and warn all men against your treachery!’
When he heard the fisherman’s words, the jinnee struggled hard to get out, but the magic seal held him back. He now altered his tone and, assuming a humble air, said that he had been jesting, and begged to be freed. But the fisherman paid no attention to his cries and took the bottle down to the seashore.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ whimpered the jinnee.
‘I am going to throw you back into the sea!’ the fisherman replied. ‘You have lain in the depths for eighteen hundred years, and there you shall remain till the Last Judgment! Did I not beg you to spare me so that Allah might spare you? But you took no pity on me, and he has now delivered you into my hands.’
‘Let me out,’ the jinnee begged, ‘and I will give you fabulous riches!’
‘Faithless jinnee,’ the fisherman answered, ‘you deserve no better fate than that of the King in the tale of Yunan and the doctor.’
‘What tale is that?’ asked the jinnee.
THE TALE OF KING YUNAN AND DUBAN THE DOCTOR
It is said (the fisherman began) that once upon a time there reigned in the land of Persia a rich and mighty King called Yunan. He had great armies and a numerous following of noblemen and courtiers. But he suffered from a leprosy that his physicians, for all their skill and knowledge, could never cure.
One day a venerable old doctor named Duban came to the King’s capital. He had studied books written in Greek, Latin, Arabic, and Persian and was deeply read in the lore of the ancients. He was master of many sciences, knew the properties of plants and herbs, and, above all, was skilled in astrology and medicine. When this physician heard of the King’s leprosy and of his doctors’ vain attempts to cure him, he put on his finest robes and went off to the royal palace. After he had kissed the ground before the King and invoked blessings upon him, he told him who he was and said, ‘Great King, I have heard about your illness and have come to heal you. Yet will I give you no medicine to drink, nor any ointment to rub upon your body.’
The King was astonished at the doctor’s words.
‘How will you do that?’ he asked. ‘If you cure me, I will heap riches upon you, and your children’s children after you. Anything you wish shall be yours for the asking, and you shall be my companion and friend. But when is it to be? What day, what hour?’
‘Tomorrow, if the King wishes,’ came the reply.
The King gave Duban a robe of honor and other presents, and the doctor took leave of him. Hastening to the center of the town, he rented a little house to which he carried his books and his drugs and other medicaments. Then he prepared the cure and poured it into a hollow polo stick.
Next morning Duban went to the royal palace, kissed the ground before the King, and asked him to ride into the field and play a game of polo with his friends. The King rode out with his ministers and his chamberlains, and when he had entered the playing field the doctor handed him the hollow club and said, ‘Take this and grasp it firmly. Strike the ball with all your might until the palm of your hand and the rest of your body begin to sweat. The cure will penetrate your palm and run through your veins and arteries. When it has done its work, return to the palace, wash yourself, and go to sleep. In this way you will be cured; and peace be with you.’
The King took hold of the club and, gripping it firmly, struck the ball and galloped after it with the other players. Harder and harder he hit the ball as he dashed up and down the field, until his palm and his body perspired.
Duban saw that the cure was working, and he ordered the King to return to the palace. The slaves hastened to make ready the royal bath and to prepare the linens and the towels. The King bathed, put on his night clothes, and went to sleep.
Next morning the physician went to the palace. When he was admitted to the King’s presence he kissed the ground before him and wished him peace. The King quickly got up to receive him, threw his arms around the physician’s neck, and seated him by his side.
For when the King had left his bath the previous evening, he had looked upon his body and rejoiced to find no trace of the leprosy; his skin had become as pure as virgin silver. And so the King entertained the physician liberally again all the day. He also bestowed on him robes of honor and other gifts and, when evening came, gave him two thousand pieces of gold and mounted him on his own favorite horse. So thrilled was the King at the extraordinary skill of his doctor that he kept repeating to himself, ‘This wise physician has cured me without drug or ointment. By Allah, I will load him with honors and make him my companion and trusted friend.’ And that night the King lay down to sleep in an ecstasy of bliss, knowing that he was clean in body and cured of his disease.
Next day, as soon as he was seated upon his throne, with the officers of his court standing before him and his lieutenants and ministers on either side, the King called for the physician, who came up and kissed the ground before him. The King rose and seated the doctor by his side. He feasted him all day, gave
him a thousand pieces of gold and more robes of honor, and talked with him until nightfall.
Now, among the King’s viziers was a wicked old man, an envious, spiteful villain. Seeing the King make the physician his favorite friend and lavish on him high dignities and favors, the vizier began to plot the doctor’s ruin. So, on the following day, when the King entered the council chamber and was about to call for the physician, the vizier kissed the ground before him and said, ‘Your Majesty, my duty prompts me to warn you against an evil that threatens your life; nor would I be anything but a traitor if I held my peace.’
Troubled at these ominous words, the King ordered him to explain what he meant.
‘Your Majesty,’ the vizier went on, ‘there is an old proverb that says: “He who does not weigh the consequences of his acts will never prosper.” Now, I have seen the King bestow favors and shower honors upon his enemy, a murderer who is secretly plotting to destroy him. I greatly fear for the King’s safety.’
‘Who is this man whom you suppose to be my enemy?’ asked the King, turning pale.
‘I speak of Duban the doctor,’ the vizier answered.
‘He is my friend,’ replied the King angrily, ‘dearer to me than all my courtiers; for he has cured me of my leprosy, an evil that my own physicians could not remove. Surely there is no other man like him in the whole world, from East to West. How can you say these monstrous things of him? From this day I will appoint him my personal doctor, and give him every month a thousand pieces of gold. Even if I gave him half my kingdom, it would be only a trifling payment for his service. Your advice, my vizier, is born of jealousy and envy. Would you have me kill my savior and repent of my rashness, as the King in the story repented after he had killed his falcon?’
THE TALE OF THE KING AND THE FALCON
Once upon a time (King Yunan went on), there was a Persian King who was a great lover of riding and hunting. He had a falcon which he himself had trained with loving care and which never left his side for a moment. Even at night-time he carried it perched upon his wrist, and when he went hunting he took it with him. Hanging from the bird’s neck was a golden bowl from which it drank. One day the King ordered his men to make ready for a hunting expedition and, taking his falcon with him, rode out with his courtiers. At last they came to a valley where they laid the hunting nets. A gazelle fell into the snare, and the King said, ‘I will kill the man who lets her escape!’
They drew the nets closer and closer around the animal. On seeing the King, the gazelle stood on her haunches and raised her forelegs to her head as if she wished to salute him. But as he bent forward to lay hold of her she leaped over his head and fled across the field. Looking around, the King saw his courtiers winking at one another.
‘Why are they winking?’ he asked his vizier.
‘Perhaps because you let the beast escape,’ answered the other, smiling.
‘On my life,’ cried the King, ‘I will chase this gazelle and bring her back!’
At once he galloped off in pursuit of the fleeing animal. When he had caught up with her, his falcon swooped upon the gazelle, and the King struck her down with a blow of his sword. Then he dismounted and hung the carcass on his saddlebow.
It was a hot day and the King, who by this time had become faint with thirst, went to search for water. Presently he saw a huge tree, down whose trunk water was trickling in great drops. He took the little bowl from the falcon’s neck, filled it up, and placed it before the bird. But the falcon knocked the bowl with its beak and tipped it over. The King once again filled the bowl and placed it before the falcon, but the bird knocked it over a second time. At this the King became very angry; he filled the bowl a third time and set it before his horse. But the falcon sprang forward and knocked it over with its wings.
‘Vile creature!’ the King exclaimed. ‘You have prevented yourself from drinking, and the horse too.’
So saying, he struck the falcon with his sword and cut off both its wings. But the bird lifted its head as if to say, ‘Look into the tree!’ The King raised his eyes and saw an enormous serpent spitting its poison down the trunk.
The King was deeply sorry for his action. Mounting his horse, he hurried back to the palace. No sooner had he sat down, with the falcon still perched on his wrist, than the bird gave a violent gasp and dropped down dead.
The King was stricken with sorrow and remorse for killing the bird that had saved his life.
When the vizier heard King Yunan’s story he said, ‘I assure Your Majesty that my only concern is for your safety. I beg leave to warn you that if you put your trust in this physician, it is certain that he will destroy you. Did he not cure you by a device held in the hand? And might he not cause your death by another such device?’
This convinced the King. ‘You have spoken wisely, my faithful vizier. Indeed, it is quite probable that this physician has come to my court as a spy to destroy me. And since he cured my illness by a thing held in the hand, he might as cleverly poison me with something different, such as the scent of a perfume. What should I do, my vizier?’
‘Send for him at once, and when he comes, strike off his head. Only in this way will you be safe from his designs.’
Thereupon the King sent for the doctor, who hurried to the palace with a joyful heart, not knowing what lay in store for him.
‘Do you know why I have sent for you?’ the King asked.
‘God alone knows the unspoken thoughts of men,’ the physician answered.
‘I have brought you here to kill you,’ said the King.
The physician was thunderstruck at these words.
‘But why should you wish to kill me?’ he cried. ‘What is my crime?’
‘It has come to my knowledge,’ replied the King, ‘that you have been sent here to cause my death. But you shall die first.’
Then he called in the executioner, saying, ‘Strike off the head of this traitor!’
‘Spare me, and Allah will spare you!’ pleaded the unfortunate doctor. ‘Kill me, and so will Allah kill you!’
But the King turned a deaf ear to his entreaties.
‘Never will I have peace again,’ he said, ‘until I see you dead. For if you cured me by a thing held in the hand, you will doubtless kill me by the scent of a perfume, or by some other foul device.’
‘Is it thus that you repay me?’ the doctor protested. ‘Will you thus repay good with evil?’
But the King said, ‘You must now die; nothing now can save you.’
When he saw that the King had made up his mind to have him put to death, the physician bitterly repented the service he had done him. The executioner came forward, bandaged the doctor’s eyes, and, drawing his sword, held it in readiness for the King’s signal. But the doctor continued to plead. ‘Spare me, and Allah will spare you! Kill me, and so will Allah kill you!’
Moved by the man’s lamentations, one of the courtiers interceded for him.
‘Spare the life of this man, I pray you,’ he said to the King. ‘He has committed no crime against you; rather has he cured you of an illness that our physicians had failed to remedy.’
‘If I spare this doctor,’ the King replied, ‘he will use his devilish art to kill me. Therefore he must die.’
Once more the doctor repeated, ‘Spare me, and Allah will spare you! Kill me, and so will Allah kill you!’
Realizing that the King was firmly fixed in his resolve, he said, ‘Your Majesty, if you must kill me, I beg you to grant me a day’s delay, so that I may go home and wind up my affairs. I want to say good-by to my family and my neighbors, and instruct them how to arrange my burial. I must also give away my books of medicine, among which there is one precious volume that I would offer to you as a parting gift, that you may preserve it among the treasures of your kingdom.’
‘What may this book be?’ the King asked.
‘It holds secrets and devices without number, the least of them being this: that if, after you have struck off my head, you turn over three leaves of th
is book and read the first three lines upon the left-hand page, my severed head will speak and answer any questions you may ask it.’
The King was astonished to hear this, and at once ordered his guards to escort the physician home. That day the doctor put his affairs in order, and the next morning returned to the King’s palace. There he found, already assembled, the ministers, the chamberlains, and all the chief officers of the realm. With their colored robes the court seemed like a garden full of flowers.
The doctor bowed low before the King; in one hand he held an ancient book, and in the other a little bowl filled with a strange powder. Then he sat down and said ‘Bring me a platter!’
A platter was instantly brought in, and the doctor sprinkled the powder on it and smoothed it over with his fingers. Then he handed the book to the King.
‘Take this book,’ he said, ‘and set it down before you. When my head has been cut off, place it upon the powder to stop the bleeding. Then open the book.’
At the King’s order, the executioner cut off the physician’s head with a single blow of his sword. Then the King opened the book and, finding the pages stuck together, put his finger to his mouth and turned over the first leaf. After much difficulty he turned over the second and the third, moistening his finger with his tongue each time, and tried to read. But there was no writing there.
‘There is nothing written in this book,’ cried the King.
‘Go on turning,’ replied the severed head.
The King had not turned six pages when the venom – for the leaves of the book were poisoned – began to work in his body. He fell backward in an agony of pain, crying, ‘Poisoned! Poisoned!’ and in a few moments he was dead.
‘Now, faithless jinnee,’ the fisherman went on, ‘had the King spared the physician, he in turn would have been spared by Allah. But he refused, and Allah brought about the King’s destruction. And as for you, if you had been willing to spare me, Allah would have been merciful to you, and I would have spared your life. But you sought to kill me; therefore I will throw you back into the sea and leave you to perish in this bottle!’
Aladdin and Other Tales from the Arabian Nights Page 2
