His cries and the sound of the whipping echoed in the stillness of the night and startled the neighbors out of their beds. They rushed out into the street, inquiring the cause of the disturbance. Thinking that thieves had broken into the fisherman’s house, they hurried to his rescue. To their surprise, the door was locked and bolted.
‘The thieves must have got in from the terrace next door,’ they said to each other. So they climbed up to the adjoining terrace and from there descended into the house. They found the naked fisherman whipping himself.
‘What the devil has possessed you tonight, Khalifah?’ his neighbors cried in amazement. And when he had told them the very secret he had been anxious to keep from them, they laughed at him and said, ‘Enough of this joke, you stupid man! May you have no joy in your treasure!’
When the fisherman woke up the next morning he was still worried about his gold. ‘If I leave my money at home,’ he said to himself, ‘I know it will be stolen. If I carry it in my belt, thieves will waylay me in some deserted place and cut my throat, and rob me of it. I must think of a better device.’
Finally he decided to sew a pocket inside the breast of his robe, and to carry the gold there tied in a bundle. This done, he took up his net, his basket, and his stick and went down to the Tigris.
On reaching the river he stepped down the bank and cast his net into the water. But the net brought up nothing at all. Farther and farther he moved along the bank until he had traveled half a day’s journey from the capital; but all to no purpose. At last he summoned up all his strength and hurled the net with such desperate force that the bundle of coins flew out of his pocket and plunged into the river.
Khalifah cast off his clothes and dived after the gold; but it was swept away by the current, and soon he had to abandon the search. Covered with mud and utterly exhausted, he walked back to the spot where he had left his clothes. But they were nowhere to be found.
In despair, he wrapped himself in his net and, like a raging camel, ran wildly up and down the bank.
So much for Khalifah the fisherman.
Now, it so chanced that the Caliph Harun al-Rashid (who is the other important figure in our tale) had at that time a friend among the jewelers of Baghdad called Sheikh Kirnas. He was known to all the merchants of the city as the Caliph’s own broker; and his influence was such that nothing choice or rare, from jewels to slave girls, was put up for sale without being first shown to him.
One day, as Sheikh Kirnas was attending to his customers, the chief of the brokers brought into his shop a slave girl of astonishing beauty. Not only had she no equal in good looks, but she was also graced with many accomplishments. She could recite pretty verses, sing, and make music on all manner of instruments. Her name was Kut-al-Kulub. Sheikh Kirnas bought her right away for five thousand pieces of gold, and after he had dressed her in rich robes and adorned her with jewels worth a thousand more, he took her to his master the Caliph.
Al-Rashid was so delighted with her talents that next morning he sent for Sheikh Kirnas and gave him ten thousand pieces in payment for the girl. The Caliph loved his new favorite so deeply that for her sake he forsook his wife, the Lady Zubaidah, and all his other concubines. He stayed by her side for a whole month, leaving her only when he attended the public prayers.
It was not long, however, before the courtiers and officers of state became dissatisfied with their master’s conduct. Unable to keep silent any longer, they complained to Jaafar, the Grand Vizier.
One day, while attending the Caliph at the mosque, Jaafar discreetly hinted at his master’s excessive attachment to the slave girl.
‘By Allah, Jaafar,’ the Caliph replied, ‘my will is powerless in this matter, for my heart is caught in the snare of love, and try as I may, I cannot release it.’
‘Commander of the Faithful,’ said the vizier, ‘this girl is now a member of your household, a servant among your servants. Think of the pleasures of riding and hunting and other sports, for these may help you to forget her.’
‘You have spoken wisely, Jaafar,’ the Caliph replied. ‘Come, we will go hunting this very day.’
As soon as the prayers were over, they mounted their steeds and rode out to the open country followed by the troops.
It was a hot day. When they had traveled a long way from the city, Al-Rashid, feeling thirsty, looked around to see if there was a sign of any encampment nearby. He observed an object far off on a mound. ‘Can you see what that is?’ he asked Jaafar.
‘It looks like a man,’ the vizier replied. ‘He is perhaps the keeper of an orchard or a cucumber garden. Maybe he can give us some water to drink. I will ride and fetch some.’
But A1-Rashid ordered Jaafar to wait for the troops, who had lingered behind, and he himself galloped off more swiftly than the desert wind or the waterfall that thunders down the rocks. On reaching the hillside he found a man swathed in a fishing net, with hair disheveled and dusty, and bloodshot eyes blazing like torches.
Al-Rashid politely greeted the strange-looking figure, and Khalifah (for the man was no other than our fisherman) muttered a few angry words in reply.
‘Have you a drink of water to give me?’ the Caliph asked.
‘Are you blind or stupid?’ broke out the fisherman. ‘Can you not see that the river Tigris flows behind this hillock?’
Al-Rashid walked around the hillock and found that the river did indeed run behind it; so he drank and watered his horse. Then he returned to Khalifah.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘What is your trade?’
‘This question is even sillier than the last!’ cried Khalifah. ‘Do you not see my net about my shoulders?’
‘So you are a fisherman,’ said the Caliph. ‘But where have you left your cloak, your gown, and your belt?’
Now these were the very things that had been stolen from the fisherman. Therefore, when he heard them named, he did not doubt that the thief stood before him. At once he darted forward, swift as a flash of lightning, and caught the Caliph’s horse by the bridle.
‘Give me back my clothes,’ he shouted, ‘and stop this foolish joke!’
‘By Allah, my friend,’ the Caliph replied, ‘I have never seen your clothes, nor can I understand what you are shouting about.’
Now, Al-Rashid had a small mouth and round, plump cheeks, so that Khalifah took him for a piper or a flute player.
‘Give me back my clothes, you scraper of beggarly tunes,’ he threatened, ‘or I will cudgel your bones with this stick.’
When he saw the fisherman brandishing his heavy stick, the Caliph thought to himself, ‘By Allah, one stroke from this cudgel will be the end of me.’
So, to humor Khalifah, he took off his splendid satin cloak and handed it to him.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘take this in place of the things you lost.’
‘My clothes were worth ten times as much,’ muttered the fisherman as he turned the cloak about with obvious contempt.
A1-Rashid prevailed upon him to try it on. Finding it too long, Khalifah took the knife that was attached to the handle of his basket and cut off the lower part of the cloak, so that it hung just above his knees.
‘Tell me, good piper,’ he said, ‘how much money does your playing bring you in a month?’
‘Ten pieces of silver,’ the Caliph replied.
‘By Allah, you make me feel sorry for you,’ the fisherman said. ‘Why, I make ten gold pieces a day. If you are willing to enter my service, I will teach you my trade and make you my partner. In this way you will earn a good round sum every day. And if your present master does not like it, this stick of mine will protect you.’
‘I accept your offer,’ the Caliph replied.
‘Then get off your horse and follow me,’ the fisherman said. ‘We will begin work this instant.’
Al-Rashid dismounted and tethered his horse to a nearby tree. Then he rolled up his sleeves and tucked his robe into his belt.
‘Hold the net thus,’ said the fisherma
n; ‘spread it over your arm thus, and cast it into the water – thus.’
Al-Rashid summoned up all his strength and did as the fisherman told him. When, after a few moments, he tried to draw the net in, it was so heavy that the fisherman had to come to his aid.
‘Dog!’ shouted Khalifah, as the two tugged together at the cords, ‘if you tear or damage my net I will take your horse from you and beat you black and blue. Do you hear?’
When at last they managed to haul the net ashore, they saw that it was filled with fish of every kind and color.
‘Useless old piper though you are,’ said Khalifah, ‘you may yet become an excellent fisherman. Off with you now to the market, and fetch me two large baskets. I will stay here and watch over the fish till you return. Then we will load the catch on your horse’s back and take it to the fish market. Your job will be to hold the scales and receive the money. Go waste no time!’
‘I hear and obey,’ replied the Caliph and, mounting his horse, galloped away, scarcely able to contain his laughter.
When Al-Rashid rejoined Jaafar and the troops, the vizier, who had been anxiously waiting for him, said, ‘You no doubt came upon some pleasant garden on the way where you rested all this time.’
At this the Caliph burst out laughing, and he proceeded to tell the company of his adventure with the fisherman. ‘My master is now waiting for me,’ he went on. ‘We are going to the market, to sell the fish and share the profit.’
‘Then let me provide you with some customers,’ said the vizier, laughing. But a mischievous fancy took hold of the Caliph’s mind.
‘By the honor of my ancestors,’ he cried, ‘whoever brings me a fish from my master Khalifah shall receive one gold piece from me.’
And so a crier proclaimed the Caliph’s wish among the guards and they all made for the river, in the direction of the hillock. The fisherman, still waiting for Al-Rashid (and the baskets), was astounded to see the guards swoop upon him like vultures, each grabbing as many fish as his hands could hold.
‘There must surely be something very odd about these fish!’ thought the terrified Khalifah. ‘O Allah, send the piper quickly to my aid!’ And to protect himself from the raiders, he jumped right into the water with a fish in each hand.
The guards wrapped up the spoil in their large, gold-embroidered handkerchiefs and rode back to their master at full gallop. As soon as they were gone, however, the Caliph’s chief footman arrived.
‘Come here, fisherman,’ he said, when he saw Khalifah holding up the fish.
‘Away with you, villain!’ Khalifah shouted.
But the footman came nearer. ‘Give me your fish,’ he said persuasively. ‘I will pay you for them.’
The fisherman still refused, and the footman lifted his lance and aimed it at him.
‘Dog, do not throw!’ Khalifah cried. ‘I would rather give you all than lose my life.’
So saying, he scornfully threw the fish at the footman, who picked them up and wrapped them in his handkerchief. Then the footman thrust his hand into his pocket in order to pay the fisherman. But, as chance would have it, there was no money there.
‘I am afraid you have no luck today,’ he said, ‘for I have not a copper about me. If you will come to the Caliph’s palace tomorrow and ask for Sandal, the chief footman, you will receive a hearty welcome and a generous reward.’
With this the footman leaped upon his horse and galloped away.
‘This is indeed a joyless day!’ groaned the fisherman. In despair he threw his net upon his shoulder and set out for the market.
As he walked through the streets of Baghdad, passers-by were puzzled to see a fisherman wearing a valuable satin cloak. Presently he entered the market place and passed by the shop of the Caliph’s own tailor. The tailor recognized the garment, for he had made it himself. He called out to Khalifah.
‘Where did you get that cloak?’ he asked.
‘What is it to you?’ returned the fisherman angrily. ‘Yet, if you must know, it was given me by an apprentice of mine. The rascal had stolen my clothes; I took pity on him and, rather than have his hand cut off for theft, I accepted this thing in exchange.’
The tailor was much amused to hear this and realized that the fisherman was the victim of the Caliph’s latest prank.
Meanwhile, at the palace a plot was being hatched against the Caliph’s favorite, Kut-al-Kulub. For when the Lady Zubaidah, his Queen, learned of her husband’s new attachment, she became so jealous that she refused to eat or drink, and busily schemed to avenge herself on the slave girl. Hearing that Al-Rashid had gone hunting, she held a feast in her room and sent for Kut-al-Kulub to entertain the guests with her singing. The unsuspecting girl took up her instruments and was conducted to the Queen’s chamber.
When her eyes fell on Kut-al-Kulub, the Lady Zubaidah could not help admiring the girl’s exquisite beauty. She concealed her scheming thoughts and with a welcoming smile ordered her to sit down. The girl sang to the accompaniment of the lute and the tambourine. So sweetly did she sing that her audience was charmed into a magic trance, the birds paused in their flight, and the entire palace seemed to echo with a thousand voices
‘Al-Rashid is hardly to blame for loving her,’ thought the Lady Zubaidah, as the girl ended her song and gracefully bowed to the ground before her.
The servants set before Kut-al-Kulub a dish of sweetmeats into which the Queen had mixed a powerful drug. Scarcely had the girl swallowed a mouthful than her head fell backward and she sank to the ground unconscious. The Lady Zubaidah ordered her maids to carry the girl to her private room. Then, by her order, an announcement was made that Kut-al-Kulub had met with an accident and died. She also ordered a mock burial to take place in the grounds of the palace. The Queen threatened her servants with instant death if they revealed the secret.
When the Caliph returned from the hunt and news of his favorite’s death was broken to him, the world darkened before his eyes and he was stricken with grief. He wept bitterly for Kut-al-Kulub and stayed by her supposed tomb for a long time.
Her plot having succeeded, the Lady Zubaidah ordered a trusted slave to lock the unconscious girl into a chest and carry it to the market. He was told to sell the chest immediately without revealing its contents.
Now to return to the fisherman. Early the next morning, Khalifah said to himself, ‘I can do nothing better today than go to the Caliph’s palace and ask his footman for the money he owes me.’
So off he went to Al-Rashid’s court. As soon as he entered he saw Sandal, the Caliph’s footman, in the doorway with a crowd of slaves waiting upon him. On the fisherman’s approach, one of the slaves rose to bar his way and would have turned him back had not the footman recognized Khalifah. He greeted him with a laugh and, remembering the debt, put his hand into his pocket to take out his purse. At that moment, however, a shout was heard announcing the approach of Jaafar, the vizier. Sandal sprang to his feet, hurried off to the vizier, and fell into a long conversation with him.
Khalifah tried again and again to draw the footman’s attention to him, but all to no avail. At last the vizier took notice of him and asked, ‘Who is that odd fellow?’
‘That,’ Sandal replied, ‘is the selfsame fisherman whose fish we seized yesterday on the Caliph’s orders.’ And he went on to explain the reason for Khalifah’s visit.
When he had heard Sandal’s account, the vizier smiled. ‘This fisherman,’ he said, ‘is the Caliph’s instructor and business partner. He has indeed come at a time when we need him most. Today our master’s heart is heavy with grief over the death of his loved one, and perhaps nothing will amuse him more than this fisherman’s quaint humor. I will announce him to the Caliph.’
Jaafar hurried to the Caliph’s room. He found him bowed down with sorrow over the loss of Kut-al-Kulub. The vizier wished him peace and, bowing low before him, said, ‘On my way to you just now, Commander of the Faithful, I met at the door your teacher and partner, Khalifah, the fisherman. He is full of compl
aints against you. “Glory to Allah,” I heard him say. “Is this how masters should be treated? I sent him to fetch a couple of baskets and he never came back.”
‘Now I pray you, Commander of the Faithful,’ Jaafar went on, ‘if you still have a mind to be his partner, let him know it; but if you wish to end your joint labors, tell him that he must seek another man.’
The Caliph smiled at Jaafar’s words, and his sorrow seemed to be lightened.
‘Is this true, Jaafar?’ he asked. ‘Upon my soul, this fisherman must be rewarded.’
Then he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, ‘If it is Allah’s will that this man should prosper through me, it shall be done; and if it is his will that he should be punished through me, it shall be done also.’
So saying, Al-Rashid took out a large sheet of paper and cut it into numerous pieces.
‘Write down on twenty of these papers,’ he said to the vizier, ‘sums of money from one piece of gold to a thousand; and on twenty more all the offices of state from the smallest clerkship to the Caliphate itself. Also twenty kinds of punishment from the lightest beating to a terrible death.’
‘I hear and obey,’ Jaafar replied, and he did as his master told him.
‘I swear by my holy ancestors,’ said Al-Rashid, ‘that Khalifah the fisherman shall have the choice of one of these papers, and that I will accordingly reward him. Go and bring him before me.’
‘There is no strength or help except in Allah,’ said Jaafar to himself as he left the Caliph’s room. ‘Who knows what lies in store for this poor fellow?’
When he found the fisherman he took him by the hand and, followed by a crowd of slaves, conducted him through seven long corridors until they stood at the door of the Caliph’s room.
‘Be careful,’ said the vizier to the terrified fisherman. ‘You are about to be admitted to the presence of the Commander of the Faithful, Defender of the Faith.’
With this he led him in; and Khalifah, who was so overawed by the magnificence of his surroundings that he could not understand the vizier’s words, suddenly saw the Caliph seated on a couch with all the officers of his court standing around him. The fisherman recognized his former apprentice.
Aladdin and Other Tales from the Arabian Nights Page 12
