The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 2

by Penguin; Robert Irwin; Malcolm Lyons; Ursula Lyons

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and ninety-fourth night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the girl said: ‘Old man, I am too distracted to think of water or food.’ HUSAIN WENT ON:

  ‘Why is that, lady?’ I asked her, and she said: ‘Because I love someone who does not treat me fairly, and I want one who does not want me. As a result I suffer the sleeplessness of those who have to count the stars.’ ‘Can there be on the face of the earth anyone whom you want who does not want you?’ I asked, and she said: ‘Yes indeed, and that is thanks to the excess of beauty, perfection and grace that he enjoys.’ I then asked why she was standing in the hall and she told me: ‘This is the route that he takes and this is the time that he passes.’ ‘Has this passion been produced by any meeting or conversation that you have had?’ I asked. She gave a deep sigh and tears rolled down her cheeks like dew falling on a rose. Then she recited:

  We were like two branches of a ban tree in a garden,

  Scenting the fruits of pleasure in a life of ease.

  But then the two of us were split apart;

  Sad is the sight of one longing for the other.

  I then asked her how deeply love had affected her, and she said: ‘I see the sun shining on the walls of his family’s house and I think that the sun is him. If I catch sight of him suddenly, I turn pale: my life’s blood takes flight from my body, and for a week or two I don’t regain my wits.’ ‘Excuse me,’ I told her, ‘for I suffer from a passion like yours: I am preoccupied with love and am emaciated and weakened. I can see that you are pale and thin, which shows clearly that you are suffering from the pangs of love. But how could you have failed to fall in love, you who are an inhabitant of the lands of Basra?’

  She said: ‘Before I fell in love with this young man, I was graceful and supremely beautiful so that all the leading men of Basra fell under my spell and then I myself was ensnared by this young man.’ ‘And what parted you?’ I asked. ‘The misfortunes of Time,’ she replied, adding: ‘Ours is a strange tale. At the New Year’s festival I had invited a number of girls from Basra, among them being a slave girl belonging to Siran, who had been brought from Oman at a cost of eighty thousand dirhams. She was passionately fond of me, and when she came in she threw herself on me and almost tore me to bits with her pinches and bites. We sat by ourselves enjoying our wine and waiting for our food to be ready. We were completely happy and she started to play with me and I played with her. Sometimes I was on top of her and then she was on top of me, until, flushed by wine, she put her hand on the fastening of my drawers. We had no evil intentions but the fastening came undone and, as we played, my drawers came down. At that moment the young man took me by surprise by coming in and, angered by what he saw, he made off and away like an Arab colt that has heard the bells of its bridle jingling.’

  Nights 695 to 714

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and ninety-fifth night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the girl said: ‘When my beloved saw me playing with Siran’s slave girl, as I have told you, he left in anger. I have spent three years excusing myself to him and trying to win him over and conciliate him, but he will not spare me a glance, write me a word, speak to any messenger of mine or listen to anything that I say.’ HUSAIN WENT ON:

  I asked her whether he was Arab or Persian and she told me angrily that he was one of the leading men of Basra. When I asked whether he was old or young, she looked at me askance, called me a fool and said: ‘He is like the moon on the night it becomes full, smooth and beardless, his only defect being that he has turned away from me.’ ‘What is his name?’ I asked, and when she asked what I was proposing to do, I told her that I would try my best to meet him in order to reunite them. ‘I will tell you on condition that you take a note to him,’ she said, and when I had agreed, she told me that he was Damra ibn al-Mughira, known as Abu’l-Sakha, and that he had a mansion in al-Mirbad.

  She then called to her servants in the house to bring her an inkstand and paper, and, after rolling up her sleeves to show forearms like silver ingots, she started her letter with the formula of God’s praise and went on: ‘Master, the fact that I have left out the blessing from the beginning of this note is a sign of my inadequacy. Had my prayers been answered, you would never have left me, but leave me you did in spite of the number of my prayers. Were it not that I can no longer hold back because of my sufferings, the trouble that I have taken to write this letter would be a source of shame to me, as I have despaired of you and know that you will not answer. The most that I wish for, master, is that you should glance into my hallway as you pass by on the street, and so bring back a dead soul to life. Even better than that would be for you to write me a note in your own hand – may God endow it with every blessing – in return for all those private meetings that we held alone on nights long gone, as you must remember. Am I not wasting away out of love for you? If you answer my request I shall be grateful to you and thankful to God. Farewell.’

  I took the letter and went off. Then, next morning, I came to the door of Muhammad ibn Sulaiman and found his salon packed with men of importance. I caught sight of a young man who was an adornment to the assembly, surpassing all the others there in the splendour of his beauty, and to whom the emir had given a place higher than his own. When I asked about him I was told that this was Damra ibn al-Mughira, and I said to myself that it was not surprising that the poor girl had been distracted by love for him. I then left and went to al-Mirbad, where I waited by the door of his house, and when he arrived with his entourage I jumped up and, after having greeted him effusively, I handed him the girl’s letter. When he had read it and noted its contents, he told me that he had taken another in her place and asked me if I would like to see her. When I said that I would, he called and out came a swelling-breasted girl who put to shame the sun and the moon, walking quickly but not through fear. He passed her the letter and told her to reply to it. When she read it, its contents made her turn pale and she said to me: ‘Old man, ask God’s pardon for what you have done.’ So I left, dragging my feet, until I came back and, after asking permission, I went in to see the girl. She asked me what I had brought, and I said: ‘Misery and despair.’ She replied: ‘Don’t concern yourself about Damra, as this is a matter for the power of God,’ and she then ordered me to be given five hundred dinars, after which I left.

  Some days later, as I passed by, I noticed a party of servants and riders and went in. It turned out that they were companions of Damra who were asking the girl to go back to him, while she was saying: ‘No, by God. I shall never look him in the face again.’ Then she prostrated herself in thanks to God, gloating over Damra’s disappointment. I went up to her and she produced a letter for me which read, after the invocation of God: ‘My lady, if I did not wish to spare your feelings, I would describe some of the sufferings that you have inflicted on me and I would excuse myself, although it was you who injured me and it was you who wronged both yourself and me. You clearly broke your word and were unfaithful in preferring someone else to me and rejecting my love. That was your choice and I can only ask for God’s help.’ She showed me the rare gifts he had sent to her, whose value came to thirty thousand dinars. When I next saw her, she had married him.

  Al-Rashid said: ‘Had Damra not forestalled me, I would have made an approach to her.’

  *

  A story is also told, O king, that ISHAQ IBN IBRAHIM AL-MAUSILI SAID:

  I was at home one winter’s night when clouds had spread across the sky and rain was pouring down in floods as though from the mouths of water skins. No one was abroad on the streets, coming or going, because of the rain and the mud; I was depressed because none of my friends had come to visit me and it was too muddy for me to go to them. So I told my servant to bring me something to distract me, but although he fetched
food and drink, I could not enjoy the meal as there was nobody to keep me company, and I kept on looking out of the windows and watching the roads until night fell. Then I remembered a slave girl who belonged to one of the sons of al-Mahdi, with whom I had been in love and who was an accomplished singer and musician. ‘Were she here with me tonight,’ I said to myself, ‘I would be completely happy and no longer have to spend the time worried and uneasy.’

  Just at that moment there was a knock on the door and a voice called: ‘May a beloved come in who is standing at the door?’ ‘It may be that the tree of my wishes has born fruit,’ I said to myself, and when I went to the door I found my mistress wrapped in a green cloak with a covering of brocade on her head to protect her from the rain. She was in a sad state, covered in mud up to her knees, her clothes drenched by water from the gutters. ‘My lady,’ I exclaimed, ‘what has brought you here through all this mud?’ She said: ‘When your messenger came to me and told me how full you were of love and longing, there was no help for it but to answer the summons and hurry here to you.’

  I was taken aback by this.

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and ninety-sixth night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the girl came and knocked on the door, Ishaq went out and said: ‘My lady, what has brought you here in conditions like these?’ She replied: ‘When your messenger came to me and told me how full you were of love and longing, there was no help for it but to answer the summons and hurry here to you.’ ISHAQ WENT ON:

  I was taken aback by this, but as I didn’t want to tell her that I had not sent anyone, what I said was: ‘Praise be to God, Who has reunited us after the sufferings that I have had to endure. If you had been any slower in coming, I would have had to go to you because of the extent of my longing and love.’ On my instructions, my servant now fetched a container filled with hot water to help her tidy herself, and as he poured the water over her feet, I myself took charge of washing them. Then I called for one of the most splendid of my robes, which I gave her to wear after she had taken off her own. We sat down and I called for food, but she refused to eat. I asked if she wanted wine, and when she said yes, I fetched wine cups. ‘Who will sing?’ she asked, but when I volunteered, she said that she did not want that, nor did she agree when I suggested that one of my slave girls should sing. ‘Sing yourself, then,’ I said, but she refused, and when I asked who was going to do it then, she replied: ‘Go out and find someone to sing for me.’

  I went out obediently but unhopefully, certain that in weather like that I was not going to find anyone. I walked on until I got to the main street, and there I caught sight of a blind man tapping on the ground with his stick. He was muttering: ‘May God give no good reward to my hosts. If I sang, they would not listen and, if I stayed silent, they made fun of me.’ ‘Are you a singer?’ I enquired, and when he said that he was, I asked: ‘Would you give us the pleasure of your company for the rest of this night?’ ‘If you want that, then take hold of my hand,’ he replied, and so I led him by the hand back to my house and said to the girl: ‘My lady, I have brought a singer to entertain us. He is blind and so he will not be able to see us.’ ‘Bring him to me,’ she said, and when I had done this I invited him to eat, which he did sparingly and then washed his hands. I then fetched him wine and he drank three glasses before asking me who I was. When I told him that I was Ishaq ibn Ibrahim al-Mausili, he said: ‘I have heard of you and I am pleased to be drinking with you now.’ ‘I am glad that you are pleased,’ I told him, and he then asked me to sing for him. As a joke I took the lute and said: ‘To hear is to obey.’

  When I had finished the song, he told me: ‘Ishaq, you are not far from being a singer.’ This was a blow to my self-esteem and so I threw the lute away. ‘Do you have no one here who can sing well?’ he asked. When I told him that I had a girl with me, he said: ‘Tell her to sing,’ and I asked: ‘Will you sing yourself when you have satisfied yourself about her performance?’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, but when she had sung, he said: ‘She has no skill,’ and she threw away the lute in anger saying: ‘I have done my best and if there is anything you can do, then produce it for us.’ ‘Fetch me a lute that has not been touched by any hand,’ the blind man said, and on my orders my servant produced a new one. After fingering it, he struck up a strain that I did not recognize and then set about singing these lines:

  Through the gloom of a dark night there came

  A devoted lover, knowing the times of rendezvous.

  What roused me was a greeting and the words:

  ‘May a loved one enter, who is standing by the door?’

  The girl looked at me askance and said: ‘Could you not keep our secret for a single hour before entrusting it to this man?’ I swore that I had not told him anything and excused myself to her before starting to kiss her hands, tickle her breasts and bite her cheeks until she laughed. Then I turned to the blind man and asked him to sing again. He took the lute and sang these lines:

  How often have I visited lovely girls,

  Touching their dyed fingers with my hands,

  Tickling the pomegranate breasts

  And nibbling at the ruddy apple cheeks.

  ‘Who told him what we were doing?’ I asked her. ‘That’s right,’ she said, and we moved away from him. He then said that he needed to relieve himself and so I told my servant to take a candle and go ahead of him. He went out, and then, as he was taking a long time, we went to look for him, but without success. The doors were locked and the keys were in their cupboard, leaving us to wonder whether he had been snatched up into the sky or had sunk into the earth.

  I then realized that this was Iblis, who had played the pimp for me, and I remembered the lines of Abu Nuwas:

  I wondered at Iblis in his pride and evil intent;

  He was too haughty to prostrate himself to Adam,

  But then became a pimp for Adam’s seed.

  SHAHRAZAD CONTINUED:

  A story is also told that IBRAHIM IBN ISHAQ SAID:

  I was a particular friend of the Barmecides. One day, while I was at home, a knock came at my door and my servant went out and then came back to tell me that a handsome youth was asking leave to enter. I gave permission and in came a young man who was showing signs of illness. ‘I have been trying to meet you for a long time,’ he said, ‘as there is something that I need from you.’ When I asked him what that was, he brought out three hundred dinars, set them before me and said: ‘Please accept these and, in exchange, let me have an air to which to set verses that I shall recite.’ I told him to produce the verses…

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the six hundred and ninety-seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that when the young man came to Ishaq, he set three hundred dinars before him and said: ‘Please accept these and, in exchange, let me have an air to which I can set verses that I shall recite.’ IBRAHIM WENT ON: I told him to produce the verses and he recited:

  By God, my eye has wronged my heart;

  Let it quench the grief of love with tears.

  Time is among those who blame me for my love.

  But, wrapped within my shroud, I shall not see her face.

  I composed an air for him like a lament and sang it, after which he fainted until I thought that he was dead. When he recovered he asked me to sing it again, but I said: ‘God forbid,’ telling him I was afraid lest it kill him. ‘I wish it would,’ he said, and he continued to entreat me humbly until I took pity on him and sang it again. This led to an even more violent reaction, but in spite of the fact that I was quite certain that he was dead, I went on sprinkling him with rosewater until he recovered and sat up. I thanked God for his recovery before returning him his dinars and saying: ‘Take your money and leave me.’ ‘I don’t need it,’ he said, ‘and you can have as much again if you sing the air onc
e more.’ I was attracted by the thought of the money, and I told him that I would do this but only on three conditions, the first being that he should stay and eat with me so as to strengthen himself, the second being that he should hearten himself by drinking wine and the third that he should tell me his story. HE DID AS I ASKED AND SAID:

  I come from Medina. One day, I went out on an excursion and took the road to al-‘Aqiq with some companions. It was then that, among a group of girls, I caught sight of one like a branch decked with dewdrops, whose glances slew all those at whom she looked. She and her friends sheltered in the shade until evening and, when they left, I discovered that my heart was suffering from wounds that were slow to heal. When I went back, I tried to find out about the girl, but without any success, and when I attempted to follow up her trail in the markets, no one could tell me anything and I fell sick with grief. I then told my story to a relative of mine, who said that I should not worry, explaining: ‘It’s still spring and we can expect rain. Then the girl will go out and I shall come with you, after which you can do what you want.’

  This comforted me and I waited until the water course at al-‘Aqiq ran full and became a popular spot to visit. I went there with my brothers and some other relatives, and we sat in the same place that I had been before. Before we had been waiting for long, the women came hurrying up like horses running in a race and I asked one of my female relatives to tell the girl: ‘This man says: “How well the poet expressed it when he said: