by Robert Irwin
‘What can this mean?’ it can only mean that this ship is under the guidance of an evil power,’ replied another of the crew. He voiced the thought of all of us.
That night we crept down to the captain’s cabin, where the mate now slept. As we hesitated we sniffed a smell of singeing that percolated through the door. We burst in and found that the bedclothes were on the verge of igniting from the heat of the mate’s body and that the mate was no man but a djinn. We threw ourselves upon him and tried to overpower him, but he reverted to his monstrous natural form and flew off in a storm. Thunder and lightning crashed around the ship. The ship foundered. Death was a cup which came round to all the crew. Only I was spared. I went down in a whirlpool formed in the eddies of the sinking ship, down and down, until it seemed that there was no bottom to this sea, that I should never come up and that my ribcage would be crumpled up like a paper ball by the pressure of the water. I had heard that sometimes a drowning man in extremis will see his entire past life pass in review before his eyes. One might well anticipate such an experience with interest. However, I have to tell you that no such thing happened to me and that, if it had, I should have been in far too uncomfortable a condition to pay any attention to it. Such, I believe, were my thoughts at the time, as the whirlpool drew me on to my end, when suddenly the direction of the spiral reversed itself and I was forced like a cork to the top of the waters.
I surrendered myself to the tides and unconsciousness. When I recovered, I found that I had been cast ashore on the Baluchi coast. There I was, naked and half dead, at the very nadir of my fortunes on those same sands where previously I had known my greatest happiness.
Remembering the promises we had made, I walked towards the port. Some way short of my destination, I met a kind citizen who took me in and clothed me and, when I was recovered, answered my questions. He knew of the girl I spoke of, though not the full story and he thought therefore that I ought not to hear it from his lips. I should go instead to a certain santon—a holy man—on a hill and he gave me directions with which to find him. Something in the manner in which he spoke of my Baluchi love filled me with apprehension. So, as soon as I could, I hurried to that santon.
The santon greeted me cordially. He seemed familiar to me. This was the story he told.
‘I remember the girl well. She left these parts, but before she did so she came to me with a dream she wished to have interpreted. It was a simple one. She had dreamt repeatedly that she was falling down a bottomless pit. The construction that she put upon it was that she was falling into the Hellish Pit and that she was damned for unspoken sins.
‘“Nonsense, my dear girl,” I said. “Still, it is true that the dream bodes no good. A dream of falling can have only one meaning. It always means that the dreamer is a fallen woman, but it is the judgement of your family and society you must fear, not God’s, for God is merciful and regards these things differently.”’
Here Balian interrupted Yoll. ‘The santon’s interpretation was absurd, for I often dream of falling, but that does not mean that I am a fallen woman!’
Yoll shrugged his shoulders and continued.
‘I counselled her to leave the places where she was known and flee into the wild forest, where she would be safe from the condemnation of society. She wept for she did not wish to leave her parents, nor did she wish to abandon all hope of seeing her lover again. In the end, though she did not fully understand my advice, she took it and I was never to see her again.’
I turned to leave, but he raised his hand to stop me.
‘Stay. There is more. It was obvious to my eye that she was heavily pregnant. Only her innocence had veiled the fact from her. So it was that when her anxious family commissioned a search and that search resulted in the discovery of her body, dead of exposure on the edge of the forest, there were signs that she had given birth, but the searchers found no trace of a baby. There, my tale ends.’
I sobbed. I was distracted. Suddenly I became aware of the source of my distraction—that familiar scorched smell. We fought fiercely (he scratched out my eye), but in the end I could not hold him (for a djinn can slip from form to form) and he readily abandoned the imposture of a santon to escape my grasp.
I reflected. She was dead, if the djinn had spoken the truth, yet it was possible that my child lived. ‘Only through finding my child can I give some meaning to what has hitherto been meaningless life. ’ Nevertheless, I was perplexed as to how to prosecute my search. At last I thought of those who had cared for me in my infancy. I returned to the apes. I asked my foster parents for their help and advice. They replied that they would first seek the opinion of their elders.
(‘And what, I wonder,’ inserted Yoll parenthetically, ‘is this fascination in stories of talking animals. Perhaps it is the child in us. Children are born under the power of a sort of animal magnetism and give love the form of a furry bear and fear that of a great insect.’)
I suspect that those who have not had the privilege of living among them, as I have, will not realize that the society of apes is governed by order and hierarchy and that important decisions are taken by a council of elders. I waited days for the council to convene and a week more before they gave me their answer, and what they gave me was little enough. They gave me a riddle and told me not to abandon my quest until I found someone who could solve it. The riddle was as follows
I ask thee for the seven already named.
They err not, cannot be forgotten, are both old and new.
Whoever walks in them walks in both life and death.
So, an orphan and a stranger, I wander the Earth eternally, asking all men that riddle and looking for my child.
‘The djinn had finished reading.
‘“I regret now that I killed him,” said the boy. “I don’t understand, though. Why was he angry, and why did he tip away the water?”
‘“The other piece of paper that I gave you, and which you showed to him, had the answer to the riddle. That is why he was angry and also why, when the letter writer had put two and two together, he had you stoned out of the village.”
‘“I don’t understand. I just do not understand.”
‘Then the djinn, taking back the second document as well, told him the answer to the riddle and affected to turn over and go to sleep.
‘The answer to the riddle solved nothing and the wolf-boy remained extremely puzzled, but with that he had to be content. Thinking hard, he retraced his steps and found the royal road that led to the Sultan’s palace. There he told his tale to the Sultan and his court very much as I have told it to you. There were many questions and much discussion.
‘“This is indeed a puzzle and a wonder!” cried the Sultan of Rucnabad. “What does it all mean?”
‘“It means,” said the wisest of his courtiers and the only one to follow fully what had been going on, “that this boy is an idiot, the son of an idiot and the grandson of an idiot. ” Then after a pause he added, “Is he any the wiser for that?” ‘The courtier’s judgement was decisive and the wolf-boy was banished from the Sultan’s palace and lands for ever.’
‘I am absolutely baffled,’ said the prince, thinking that the porter had finished. ‘What has all this to do with anything?’
‘You are impatient, ’ replied the porter. ‘You have not heard the end yet. The end of it all was that, after many adventures and mishaps, the banished youth settled in Bagdad and took up portering there. And now I must tell you that I was that youth.’
‘You have had a rich and colourful life,’ acknowledged the prince and fell to thinking. Then, after a while, he spoke again. ‘Now I have heard your story, I realize that you knew the riddle and the answer to the riddle all along, even before you met Washo and the magic Christian and long before you met the lady in the garden.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ assented the porter smilingly.
‘But you did nothing about it?’
‘That is right. It never occurred to me that I was supposed to do anything about
it.’
‘You are indeed an idiot,’ concluded the prince. ‘Such an idiot that, far from expecting any advancement from me, you are lucky to escape with your life.’
Yoll jerked out these last words convulsively and stopped.
18
The Conclusion of the
Continuation of the Interlude’s Conclusion
How embarrassing. I seem to be making a real mess of this story. I feel sick with shame and fatigue and thank God that no rival master from the Qasasyoon was present to witness it all. If only Balian could stop asking questions. I must be polite, but I’m sure that his example is egging the others on. I shall make what must be a final effort. I fear that I do not come out well in the next episode...
There was silence. Then: ‘But, Yoll, I don’t understand at all. The story you have told us does not explain how the monkeys knew the answer to the riddle of “the seven already named”.’ This was Balian.
The friar agreed. ‘Yes, it only provides further evidence that they knew the riddle.’
‘And how was it that the Christian in the garden asked the girl that very same riddle?’
This time Yoll beat his head with both his fists. ‘Oh, what a double-dyed fool I am! I left out the point of the whole story! Well, let us go back a little.’
Yoll was silent in recollection. He had been dribbling and a drop had reached the bottom of his chin where it was suspended, quivering. Then, as he began to speak, it fell.
‘You will recall that, when the man who had been raised among apes started to search for his son, he had recourse to the council of apes. What I should have done was to have made it clear to whom and in what circumstances the apes in their turn had recourse. This I will now try to do.’
‘You will recall also that, some time earlier, I endeavoured to tell “The Tale of the Two Dwarves Who Went Looking for Treasure” but was dissuaded on grounds of the tale’s excessive length.’
‘“The Tale of the Two Dwarves” is not like the rest of your stories—short and simple. It is quite excessively complicated and long; it is known as “The Tongue of the Labyrinth” also. Please don’t tell it to us now.’
‘I am not going to,’ replied Yoll. ‘I merely wished to draw attention to that story’s length so that you will understand why, when Iblis told the story to the Christian in the desert, there was a pause in the middle for discussion of some of the themes in the story. Being the sort of creatures they were, Iblis and the hermit rapidly moved on to debate theological matters. It was during this exchange of views that Iblis told the Christian that he, Iblis, had created the World and everything in and on it.
‘“I, not God, created you.” Iblis boasted. “I encompass Man and all his works. I am omnipotent and omniscient.” ‘The Christian disputed this, and the debate that ensued resulted in Iblis challenging the Christian to set him a riddle or a puzzle that he could not solve, otherwise the Christian would have to acknowledge formally the omniscience of Iblis and the creation of the World by the Evil Principle. Once the challenge had been accepted, Iblis resumed the “Tale of the Two Dwarves”. I really think that I ought to give you some idea of that story, since—’
‘No, Yoll.’ Bulbul’s ‘no’ was a growl almost.
‘Well, anyway, when that tale was finally concluded, the Christian returned to playing with the three wishes that Iblis had granted him (in the manner that I have already related). What I omitted to tell you, in the interest of simplicity (always a paramount consideration with me) was that when the Christian left the desert after his first meeting with Iblis, abandoning the career of a hermit for that of a powerful magician, he then spent many months thinking and searching for the problem that would expose Iblis’s pretensions. Further, he returned to the desert a year later with what he believed to be the unanswerable riddle that would answer his need to confound Iblis. (It is in this sense that we say, “Every question is the answer to someone else’s question.”) Before I tell you, however, what happened when the Christian encountered Iblis the second time, I must tell you where he found such a riddle and this involves me in telling you a little of the story of Washo.
‘Now, Washo was a magic ape, created by the Christian’s enchantments. The Christian was fond of him and allowed him a great deal of freedom, but the ape brooded in his freedom. He knew that he had been created by magic and could be dissolved by magic. His existence was as transient and insubstantial as a soap bubble’s. When the Christian had tired of him, he would dissolve him, but Washo did not want to go the way of the fawn that fed on glass or the homunculus who told jokes, yet what prospects did he, the product of a few passes of the enchanter’s hand, possess? Preoccupied with such gloomy thoughts, he was swinging from tree to tree one day when he found himself in the orchard of a garden where he had never been before. A young lady sprawled on the lawn below. She whistled at the ape and signalled that he should join her. (Now, lest I raise false expectations, I should say that this lady was not the same person as the girl in the garden that the Christian was later to encounter. No, not at all!) Washo did as he was bid and, descending on to the lawn, bowed low and addressed her with polite words.
‘The lady smiled. “I have been looking for a chess partner,” she said. “You seem suitable. Won’t you sit down and tell me something of your circumstances as we play?”
‘Again Washo did as he was bid, and in no time at all he found that he was telling her of his broodings on mortality and his fears of extinction through disenchantment.
‘The lady was sympathetic-and helpful. “What you should do,” she advised, “is try to make him realize that in creating such a splendid and intelligent ape as yourself he has created more than he was aware of, something that is more than a mere echo of his own mind. Challenge him with an insoluble riddle.”
‘“I don’t know any.”
‘“I shall give you one.” And she did.
‘The ape was doubtful, but he went home, squatted before his master and announced that he, Washo the magic Ape, had devised a riddle that his master would never be able to solve. To the ape’s surprise, the Christian proved to be very interested in the prospect of an insoluble riddle. Immediately a pact was made. If the Christian could not solve the riddle, he promised that he would never conjure the ape away. Thus Washo would have immortality conferred upon him. Then the ape recited:
“I ask thee for the seven already named.
They err not, cannot be forgotten, are both old and new.
Whoever walks in them walks in both life and death.”
‘The Christian considered. “This needs thought,” he said. “Return here every evening until I shall either have given you the answer to the riddle or given up. By the way, what are you doing with yourself in the daytime?”
‘“Every day I go to play chess in a garden with a young lady. Nothing could be more proper. The plants are more passionate than she is,” replied the ape.
‘The Christian nodded absently and dismissed him.
‘Every evening the ape came back to the house of the magic Christian and every evening the Christian sent him away unanswered. This went on for a week. Finally the Christian confessed defeat. “I give up. What is the answer?”
‘“I have no idea,” the ape admitted (for the lady had not told him the answer). “I thought only of the riddle, not the answer.”
‘“You idiot!” shrieked the magician. “Any fool can think of a riddle that has no solution at all! And here am I wasting every day this week —”
‘“That’s it,” said the ape quickly. “The seven days of the week.”
‘He was saved. The Christian, when he had calmed down sufficiently, admitted that the riddle was good. “I have created something cleverer than myself,” he cried.’
Here Yoll interrupted himself. ‘I do not understand his astonishment, for who has not heard of a storyteller who is stupider than the story he invents?
‘What he had created was a monster, for their pact meant that when the Christian renounc
ed his magical powers and later died, the ape survived, and he has since grown extraordinarily in stature and power. As for the Christian, somewhat under a year later he returned to the desert and propounded the riddle to Iblis, who gave the correct answer as quick as a flash. The Christian was devastated and found himself obliged to recognize Iblis’s omniscience. Though he still had wishes in hand and many adventures yet to endure, a dark shadow hung over his mind from that moment on. Though the riddle had served him ill twice already—Washo had won his freedom with it and Iblis had won his argument—the Christian was to use the riddle a third time, of course—on the lady in the garden—with similarly unfortunate results. Well, that was the story of the riddling contest between the ape, the Christian and the Devil.’
Yoll looked round triumphantly.
By now Balian was experienced in detecting the shortfall, ‘I am still left baffled. Where did the lady in the garden get the riddle? And how did the riddle spread among the apes and monkeys?’
‘Aha! Yes, we must backtrack a little if you will insist on every little detail being spelt out. Let us go back to the apes who promised to help the man who was looking for his child. Their elders met in council high in the mountains. It was very cold, cold enough to—’
Here Bulbul let out something between a groan and a yawn, which effectively drowned the next few words.
‘—never mind those of an ordinary monkey. Before long they came to the conclusion that a wiser head than theirs was needed to assist their foster child in his seemingly impossible quest.
‘Then one who had travelled widely spoke. “We lack the sophistication and experience of humans, let us admit it. However, when I was in Bagdad, stealing bananas from the orchards, I caught a glimpse of one of our kind, whom I am sure can help us, for he sat in a garden and not only talked to a lady but even played chess with her.”
