‘Let me out! Let me out!’ the jinnee cried. ‘Do not be angry with me, I pray you. If I have done you evil, repay me with good and, as the saying goes, punish me with kindness. Do not do as the farmer did to the baker.’
‘What is their story?’ the fisherman asked.
‘This bottle is no place to tell stories in,’ exclaimed the jinnee, writhing with impatience. ‘Let me out, and I will tell you all that passed between them.’
‘Never!’ the fisherman replied. ‘I will throw you into the sea, and you shall remain imprisoned in your bottle till the end of time!’
‘Let me out! Let me out!’ moaned the jinnee in despair. ‘I swear I will never harm you, and promise to render you a service that will enrich you!’
At last the fisherman accepted the jinnee’s promise, made him swear by the Most High Name, and then opened the bottle with trembling hands.
At once the smoke burst out, and in a twinkling took the shape of a colossal jinnee, who with a triumphant kick sent the bottle flying into the sea. When the fisherman saw the bottle disappear, he was overcome with terror.
‘This is a bad sign,’ he thought; but, quickly hiding his anxiety, he said, ‘Mighty jinnee, you have both promised and sworn that you would deal honorably with me. If you break your word, Allah will punish you. Remember that I said to you, as the physician said to the King, “Spare me, and Allah will spare you!” ’
At this the jinnee laughed loud and long.
‘Follow me!’ he bellowed.
Still dreading the jinnee’s intent, the fisherman followed him out of the city gates. They climbed a mountain and at length descended into a vast, barren valley in the middle of which there was a lake. At the shore of this lake the jinnee stopped in his tracks and bade the fisherman cast his net. The fisherman saw white fish and red fish, blue fish and yellow fish sporting in the water. Marveling at the sight, he cast his net into the lake, and when he drew it in, rejoiced to find in it four fish, each of a different color.
‘Take these fish to the King’s palace,’ said the jinnee, ‘and he will give you gold. In the meantime, I must beg you to pardon my ill manners, for I have dwelt so long at the bottom of the sea that I have forgotten the refinements of men. Come and fish in this lake each day – but only once a day. And now, farewell!’
So saying, the jinnee stamped his feet on the earth, which instantly opened and swallowed him up.
The fisherman went home, marveling at all that had happened to him. He filled an earthen bowl with water, placed the fish in it, and carried it on his head to the King’s palace, as the jinnee had instructed.
When he had gained admission to the King’s presence, the fisherman offered him the fish. The King, who had never seen their like in size or color, marveled greatly and ordered his vizier to take them to the cookmaid. The vizier took the fish to the slave girl and asked her to fry them. Then the King ordered his minister to give the fisherman four hundred pieces of gold. The fisherman received the coins in the lap of his robe, scarcely believing his good fortune. He bought bread and meat, and hurried home to his wife and children.
Meanwhile, the slave girl cleaned the fish, put them in the frying pan, and left them over the fire. When they were well cooked on one side, she turned them over; but scarcely had she done so when the wall of the kitchen suddenly opened and through it entered a beautiful young girl. She had dark eyes with long lashes, and smooth, fresh cheeks. She wore jeweled rings on her fingers and gold bracelets around her wrists, and her hair was wrapped in a blue-fringed kerchief of the rarest silk. The girl came forward and thrust into the frying pan a wand that she carried in her hand.
‘Fish, fish, are you still faithful?’ she asked.
At the sight of this apparition the slave fainted, and the young girl repeated her question a second and a third time. Then the four fishes lifted their heads from the pan and replied in unison, ‘Yes, yes, we are faithful!’
Upon this the strange visitor overturned the pan and went out the way she had come, the wall of the kitchen closing behind her. When the slave girl came to her senses, she found the fish burned to cinders. She set up a great screaming and hurried to tell the vizier all that had happened. Amazed at her story, he sent immediately for the fisherman and ordered him to bring four other fish of the same kind. So the fisherman went off to the lake, cast his net, and caught four more fish. These he took to the vizier, who carried them to the slave girl, saying, ‘Get up now and fry these in my presence.’
The slave cleaned the fish and put them in the frying pan; but scarcely had she done so when the wall opened as before and the girl reappeared, dressed in the same way and still holding the wand in her hand. She thrust the end of the wand into the pan and said, ‘Fish, fish, are you still faithful?’
The four fish raised their heads and replied, ‘Yes, yes, we are faithful!’ And the girl overturned the pan with her wand and vanished through the wall.
‘The king must be informed of this!’ cried the vizier. He hurried to his master and recounted all that he had seen.
‘I must see this myself,’ said the astonished King.
He sent for the fisherman and ordered him to bring four more fish. The fisherman again hastened to the lake and promptly returned with the fish, for which he received four hundred pieces of gold. Then the King commanded his vizier to cook the fish in his presence.
‘I hear and obey,’ the vizier replied.
He cleaned the fish and set the pan over the fire; but scarcely had he thrown them in when the wall opened and there appeared a great giant. He held a green twig in his hand and, as soon as he set eyes on the pan, roared out, ‘Fish, fish, are you still faithful?’
The four fish lifted their heads and replied, ‘Yes, yes, we are faithful!’
Then the giant overturned the pan with his twig and disappeared through the chasm in the wall, leaving the four fish burned to black cinders.
Confounded at the sight, the King cried, ‘I must find the answer to this riddle. No doubt these fish have some strange history.’
He sent again for the fisherman and asked him where he obtained the fish.
‘From a lake between four hills,’ replied the fisherman, ‘beyond the mountain that overlooks this city.’
‘How many days’ journey is it?’ asked the King.
‘It is barely half an hour’s walk, Your Majesty,’ he answered.
The King set out for the lake at the head of his troops, accompanied by the bewildered fisherman, who led the way, muttering curses on the jinnee as he went. At last they came to the mountain and, after climbing to the top, descended into a great desert. They all marveled at the mountains, the lake, and the fish of different colors that swam in it. The King asked the troops if any of them had ever before seen a lake in that place, but they all replied that they had not.
‘I swear I will never again enter my city or sit upon my throne,’ he said, ‘until I have solved the mystery of this lake and these colored fish.’
He ordered his troops to pitch tents for the night and summoned his vizier, who was a wise counselor and a man of deep learning.
‘Know,’ he said to him, ‘I have decided to go out alone tonight and search for the answer to the mystery of the lake and the fishes. I order you to stand guard at the door of my tent and tell anyone who may wish to see me that I am ill and cannot receive him. Above all, you must keep my plan secret.’
At nightfall the King disguised himself, girt on his sword, and slipped out of the camp unnoticed by his guards. All that night and throughout the following day he journeyed on, stopping only to rest awhile in the midday heat. Early the next morning he sighted a black building in the distance. He rejoiced and thought, ‘There perhaps I will find someone who can explain the mystery of the lake and the fishes.’
When he drew near, he found that this was a towering palace built of black stone with iron. He went up to the great double door, one half of which was wide open, and knocked gently once, twice, and again, but heard n
o answer. The fourth time he knocked hard, but still received no reply. Supposing the palace to be deserted, he summoned up his courage and entered, calling out at the top of his voice, ‘People of this house, have you any food for a weary traveler?’ This he repeated again and again, and, getting no answer, passed to the center of the building. The hall was richly carpeted and hung with fine curtains and splendid tapestries. In the middle of the inner court a beautiful fountain, resting on four lions of red gold, spurted forth a jeweled spray, and about the fountain fluttered doves and pigeons under a golden net stretched above the courtyard.
The King marveled greatly at the splendor of all he saw, but grieved to find no one in the palace who could explain the mystery to him. As he was loitering thoughtfully about the court, however, he suddenly heard a low, mournful voice that seemed to come from a sorrowful heart. The King walked in the direction of the sound and presently came to a doorway concealed behind a curtain. Lifting the curtain, he saw a handsome young man, dressed in a gold-embroidered robe, lying on a bed in a spacious marble hall. His forehead was as white as a lily, and there was a black mole on his cheek.
The King was very glad to see the young man, and greeted him, saying, ‘Peace be with you!’ But the young man, whose eyes were sore with weeping, remained motionless on the bed and returned the King’s greeting in a faint voice.
‘Pardon me, sir, for not rising,’ he murmured.
‘Tell me the story of the lake and the fishes,’ said the King, ‘and the reason for your tears and your solitude.’
At these words the young man wept even more bitterl.
‘How can I refrain from weeping,’ he replied, ‘condemned as I am to this unnatural state?’
So saying, he stretched out his hand and uncovered himself. The King was astonished to see that the lower half of his body was all of stone, while the upper half, from his waist to the hair upon his head, remained that of a living man.
‘The story of the fishes,’ said the youth, ‘is indeed a strange tale. It is also my story, and the story of the fate that overtook this city and its people. I will tell it to you.’
THE TALE OF THE ENCHANTED KING
Know that my father was the King of a beautiful city that once flourished around this palace. His name was Mahmoud, and he was Lord of the Black Islands, which are now four mountains. He reigned for seventy years, and on his death I succeeded to the throne of his kingdom. I married my cousin, the daughter of my uncle, who loved me so passionately that she could not bear to part with me even for a moment. I lived happily with her for five years. It chanced one day, however, that my wife left the palace to visit the baths and was absent so long that I grew anxious for her safety. But I tried to dismiss my fears, and lay down on my couch, ordering two of my slave girls to fan me as I slept. One sat at my head and the other at my feet; and as I lay with my eyes closed I heard one say to the other, ‘How unfortunate is the young King our master, and what a pity it is that he should have married our mistress, that hateful creature!’
‘Allah’s curse upon all enchantresses!’ replied the other. ‘This witch who spends her secret hours in the company of thieves and highwaymen is a thousandfold too vile to be the wife of our master.’
‘And yet he must be blind not to see it,’ said the first slave.
‘But how should he suspect her,’ returned the other, ‘when every night she mixes in his cup a powerful drug that so affects his senses that he sleeps like the dead until morning? How can he know what she does and where she goes? After he has gone to sleep, she dresses and goes out of the palace, returning only at daybreak, when she wakes her husband with the aroma of an incense.’
When I heard this, my blood ran cold and I was dazed with horror. At dusk my wife came back to the palace, and we sat for an hour eating and drinking together as our custom was. At length I asked for the final cup that I drank every night before retiring. When she handed it to me, I lifted the cup to my lips but, instead of drinking, poured it quickly into the folds of my garments. Then I lay down on my bed and pretended to fall asleep.
Presently I heard her say, ‘Sleep, and may you never wake again! Oh, how I despise you!’
She then dressed, tied my sword around her waist, and left the palace. I got up, put on a hooded cloak, and followed her. She stole away through the winding streets of the town and, on reaching the city gates, muttered a magic charm. Suddenly the heavy locks fell to the ground and the gates swung wide open. Without a sound I followed her out of the city until she came to a desolate wasteland and entered a ruined hovel topped by a dome. I climbed up to the roof and crouched over a chink in the ceiling. I saw her draw near an evil-looking ruffian who, judging by his appearance, could only have been a fugitive slave. When I saw them exchange greetings I was unable to control my rage. I jumped down from the roof, snatched the sword from my wife’s belt, and struck the villain through the neck. A loud gasp shook his body. Thinking that the blow had killed him, I rushed out of the house and ran straight to the palace, where I tucked myself in bed and lay quite still. By and by, my wife returned and lay down quietly beside me.
Next morning I saw that my wife had cut off her tresses and dressed herself in deep mourning.
‘Husband,’ she said, ‘do not be angry with me for wearing these clothes. I have just heard that my mother has died, that my father has lost his life in the holy war, that one of my brothers has been bitten to death by a serpent, and the other killed by the fall of a house. It is but right that I should weep and mourn.’
Showing no sign of anger, I replied, ‘Do as you think fit. I shall not prevent you.’
She went in mourning for a whole week, and at the end of this time she had a dome built in the grounds of the palace. She called it the House of Grief, and to this monument she had her lover carried; for he was still alive, though dumb, and crippled in every limb. Every day, early and late, my wife took to him wine and stews and broths, and fell to wailing under the dome.
One day I entered her room and found her weeping and beating her face. Out of my mind with rage, I drew my sword and was about to strike her when she sprang to her feet and seemed suddenly to realize that it was I who had wounded her accomplice; she muttered a mysterious charm. ‘Now, Powers of Magic,’ she exclaimed, ‘let half his body be turned to stone!’
At that moment I became as you see me now, neither alive nor dead. Then she bewitched my entire kingdom, turning its four islands into mountains with a lake in their midst and transforming all my subjects – Moslems, Jews, Christians, and heathens – into fishes of four different colors. Nor was she satisfied with this, for every day she comes to torture me; she gives me a hundred lashes with a leather thong and puts a shirt of haircloth on my wounds, all over the living part of my body.
*
When he had heard the young man’s story, the King said to him, ‘My son, your tale has added a heavy sorrow to my sorrows. But where is this enchantress now?’
‘With her lover in the monument, which you can see from the door of this hall.’
‘By Allah,’ cried the King, ‘I will do you a service that will be long remembered, a deed that will be recorded for all time.’
At midnight the King got up and, as the secret hour of sorcery was striking, stole away toward the monument with his sword unsheathed. Inside, he saw lighted lamps and candles, and braziers in which incense was burning. Before him lay the slave. Without a sound he stepped forward and struck him a mighty blow with his sword. The man fell dead upon the instant; and the King stripped him of his clothes, carried him on his shoulder, and threw him down a deep well in the grounds of the palace. Then he returned to the monument, put on the wretched man’s clothes, and sat down with the sword hidden in the folds of his robe.
Shortly afterward the woman came into the monument carrying a cup of wine and a bowl of hot soup. As soon as she entered, she said, weeping, ‘Speak to me, my master; let me hear your voice!’
Rolling his tongue in his mouth, the King replied in a
low voice, ‘There is no power or majesty except in Allah!’
When she heard the voice of her supposed friend, who had for so long been silent, the young witch uttered a joyful cry.
‘Praise to the Highest!’ she exclaimed. ‘My master is restored!’
‘Woman,’ said the King in the same low voice, ‘you are not worthy that I should speak to you!’ ‘Why, what have I done?’ she asked.
‘You have deprived me of all sleep,’ he answered. ‘Day after day you whip that husband of yours, so that his cries keep me awake all night. If you had had more thought for my comfort, I would have recovered long ago.’
‘If it be your wish,’ she replied, ‘I will instantly restore him.’
‘Do so,’ said the King, ‘and give me some peace.’
‘I hear and obey,’ answered the witch, and leaving the monument, hastened to the hall where the young man was lying. There she took a bowl filled with water, and, bending over it, murmured some magic words. The water began to seethe and bubble as if in a heated caldron; then she sprinkled it upon her husband and said, ‘Now, Powers of Magic, return him to his natural state!’
A quiver passed through the young man’s body and he sprang to his feet, shouting for joy, and crying, ‘There is no god but Allah, and Mohammed is his Prophet!’
‘Go,’ shrieked his wife, ‘and never return, or I will kill you!’
The young man hurried from her presence, and she came back to the monument.
‘Rise up, my master,’ she said, ‘that I may look upon you!’
In a feeble voice the King replied, ‘You have removed one part of the evil. The root cause still remains.’
‘What may that be, my master?’ she asked.
‘The people of this enchanted city and the Four Islands,’ he replied. ‘Night after night, the fish raise their heads from the lake and call down curses upon us both. I will not be cured until they are delivered. Free them, and return to help me from my bed, for by that act I will be saved!’
Aladdin and Other Tales from the Arabian Nights Page 3
