Bedtime Stories: A Collection of Erotic Fairy Tales

by Jean Johnson

  Blushing at her praise, embarrassed by his overwhelmed awkwardness, Hassim straightened, gave one last hasty bow, and lifted the casket that had been tucked under his arm, presenting it to her.

  “I . . . Your Highness is most gracious to receive a humble merchant such as myself. I come on behalf of Wali Daad, who wishes for me to present to you this gift of beauty, which until now I thought was incomparable. But now that I have met you in person, I know that it is comparable, and I am afraid it now seems flawed . . .” Aware he was babbling—for while her nose was ever so slightly crooked, the warmth of her spirit made her look like a deva-angel to him—Hassim struggled to remember his message. “Wali Daad sends you this gift, which was made by the hands of Prince Kavi of the East Kingdom himself—I mean, by the royal jeweler of Prince Kavi, by the jeweler Pramesh, he who crafts all the adornments of His Highness’s court. It was made by His Highness’s jeweler.”

  Princess Ananya blinked. “It . . . was made by the jeweler who serves Prince Kavi of the East?”

  “Yes,” Hassim agreed, relieved he hadn’t made too much a fool of himself.

  “The name of the jeweler is Pramesh?” she asked.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” he confirmed.

  “Then who is this Wali Daad?” Princess Ananya inquired.

  “The wisest man I know,” Hassim told her. Then he quickly bowed, in case his bluntness was offensive. He fumbled for the key to the casket and unlocked it as he spoke. “It was requested that these be given to the most wonderful woman in the world. A woman of high intellect and compassion, of noble virtue and great wisdom. We immediately thought of you, Your Highness—Wali Daad said that only a woman whose inner beauty exceeded all outer expectations could possibly be worthy of these bracelets, commissioned and crafted by the royal jeweler’s own hands. Indeed, Prince Kavi himself could not have owned a more beautiful pair, and so he wanted you to have them.”

  Opening the lid, he displayed the bracelets. Her Highness drew in a sharp, startled breath. Hassim blushed, but this time with pride, not fumbled embarrassment. Even the guards and servants attending Her Highness stared wonderingly at the contents. Wrought from the finest filigree gold, the finger-length cuffs had been encrusted with tiny pearls, each no bigger than a lentil in size and all carefully matched in color so that they formed zigzagging bands of pale blue and pale pink, creamy gold and silvery gray. Each cuff mirrored the other, so that one could tell left from right, but such was the selection and the craftsmanship that it was the only discernible difference between the two bracelets.

  “Ohhh . . . these are beautiful,” Princess Ananya whispered. Gently removing them from the silk-lined casket, she turned them over and over, examining them reverently. “You say His Highness wishes them to go to a woman as beautiful on the inside as these are on the outside?”

  “Uh . . .” Not quite sure how to correct the ruler of a nation, Hassim shrugged helplessly. “After consulting with Wali Daad—who is the wisest man I know—he said they should go to a woman as beautiful on the inside as these gems are on the outside. Without any doubt, that woman is you, Your Highness. Your people sing your praises more about your compassion and your skillful management of this land than they do of your face. Having seen you for myself, I can say that you have the face of a deva on earth, yet it still cannot match all the good things for which you are renowned.”

  Gently caressing the pearls, Ananya smiled. She even blushed, her tanned cheeks taking on a charming rosy hue. “Such a beautiful compliment should not go unanswered . . . Chamberlain?”

  “Yes, Your Highness?” a man clad in crimson silks asked, stepping forward from the side of the chamber and giving her a deep bow.

  “Give this good merchant a camel to take back with him to his patron, a camel laden with the finest weavings of the West. Silks, brocades, and even a length of our best cloth-of-gold, all of it from the looms of our royal weavers. As a token of esteem for this wisest man in the world, that he should name me the most beautiful woman solely for what lies within, not merely what is seen without. Good merchant, pass along my gift to this Wali Daad, along with my thanks to His Highness, and His Highness’s jeweler, for the crafting of these bracelets,” Princess Ananya added formally. “When I wear them, I shall think fondly of the men of the East, and the great skill and wisdom they possess.”

  Bowing deeply, knowing when he was dismissed, Hassim bobbed his way back out of her audience chamber. I have been to the palace of the West, and I have seen the most beautiful woman in the world . . . and I shall live to tell the tale!

  A thought crossed his mind as he straightened outside the chamber and let the guards who had escorted him into the hall of the princess now return him to the main courtyard. But . . . if Wali Daad did not want all of those pennies, and he did not want those beautiful bracelets . . . what will he think of a camel laden with the finest silks and brocades that are woven in the Western lands?

  WALI Daad stared at the camel. He stared at the bolts of fabric being unloaded by the caravan handlers, silks in more brightly dyed shades than a rainbow had hues, fancifully woven fabrics, and even a carefully folded length of cloth-of-gold. All of it contrasted against the sturdy linens and cottons worn by most of the caravan crew, who were busy with the task of watering and feeding their animals. The monsoon rains had come over a month ago, leaving today a cloudy day, but enough light shone through the clouds overhead to make that cloth-of-gold gleam.

  Wali Daad stared in utter dismay, until his eyes stung from staring too much.

  “What am I going to do with all of this?” he finally demanded, his voice cracking as it had not done for the last five decades. “I thank you most deeply, friend Hassim, for delivering the bracelets along with my admiration . . . but what am I going to do with all of this? Do you want it?”

  Hassim blushed. “As much as part of me would like to say yes . . . after having seen the palace of the West and all of its wonders, I feel I have far more in common with you and your simple life, Wali Daad. Such riches are not meant for me.”

  “It would be payment for your many troubles on my behalf these last several months,” the grass cutter pointed out.

  Hassim shook his head. “No. What I do for you, I do for friendship. I am content with that. And it has not been a trouble, nor really out of my way.”

  “Well, if I do not want it, and you do not want it . . .” Covering his chin with a callused hand, Wali Daad thought for a long moment. Finally, an idea struck him and he snapped his fingers. “Hassim, my friend, I have another request of you, if I may . . . ?”

  The merchant stifled a groan, guessing what he was about to be asked. “As before, if it is within my power, I will gladly do it for you, Wali Daad.”

  “This is another easy one, my good, well-traveled friend. What,” Wali Daad asked, his sun-burnished face crinkling with humor, “is the name of the wisest, bravest, smartest man in the world? A man of such virtue and honor, his exterior should be swathed in the finest cloth of the West, which is renowned for the undeniable skill of its weavers?”

  Hassim didn’t bother to stifle his groan. He even chuckled a moment later. “That, my friend, is an easy request to fulfill . . . as I suspect will be your following request. The bravest, wisest, most spiritually exalted man in the world is Prince Kavi, ruler and champion of the East.”

  Wali Daad touched the tip of his nose with the edge of his finger, grinning at his friend. “You have guessed my mind, O wise merchant. Pack up the camel when you leave, and take its contents to His Royal Highness, Champion of the East, and whatever else he may be. You may keep the camel for yourself as payment for your troubles, if you like.”

  Hassim nodded. “I think I shall this time, as I did not keep the hundred pennies I turned into a casket for the bracelets. A hundred pennies is as nothing to a well-traveled caravan master such as myself, but a camel . . . well, a camel is worth its weight in gold!”

  Both men laughed, and the caravan handlers sighed and started re
loading the bolts of precious cloth back onto the placidly chewing beast.

  THIS time, the merchant wasn’t quite as overwhelmed by the lushly painted and carved halls of the royal palace of the East. They were equal in their magnificence to the halls in the palace of the West, if different in the artworks and layout, but having seen one, Hassim was now prepared for the other. He still bowed deeply as he was brought into the receiving room of His Royal Highness Prince Kavi, Champion of the East and Defender of Justice.

  “Rise, good merchant,” Prince Kavi ordered him before Hassim had finished kowtowing halfway across the hall. “You are no subject of mine, but a man of the North; you honor me with your bows, but they are not that necessary. Moreover, merchants share news and peace even as they share goods and coins with all the people they may encounter, and I would honor that side of your trade. Come, clasp hands with me!”

  Flushing, Hassim clasped forearms with the prince, once again finding himself as tongue-tied as before. “Your Highness honors me. You are indeed as great a man as Her Highness . . . er, I mean as great a person—I come on behalf of Wali Daad, the wisest man I know, who wishes to honor you for all of your magnificent internal qualities. The honors and virtues, the courage and compassion you hold within your heart are matched only by the wisdom and grace of Her Highness of the West.”

  “Your praises warm my ears, good merchant,” Prince Kavi told him. “But come, you said you bring gifts?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Gesturing, Hassim motioned his five best caravan handlers forward. As he had done, they had dressed themselves in their finest robes, though their garments only made the rich bundles of fabric they brought look all the more exalted in comparison. “Wali Daad wishes to pass these fabrics along to you, which come straight from the looms of the royal weavers of Princess Ananya, Flower of the West. I bring you bolts of silk, yards of brocade, and even a length of cloth-of-gold. Wali Daad thinks that a man of such innate nobility as yourself should dress his outside to match his inside, and can think of no one better to wear the finest weavings of the West than you.”

  Setting out the bolts, Hassim’s caravaners draped the fabric over the low-backed chairs and cushions in the prince’s receiving hall. Though the materials covering those cushions were already high in quality, they were from the looms of the Eastern Kingdom. The weavings of the Western lands were discernibly better.

  “This is an incomparable wealth you bring me, Merchant Hassim,” Prince Kavi said in praise. His dark brown eyes flicked from bolt to bolt. “A gift this fine is usually not given without expectation of a return.”

  “Wali Daad is not a man to ask for anything in return,” Hassim asserted, glad he was able to speak the truth with utter conviction. “He insists that these materials, the finest the royal weavers of Princess Ananya can produce, be brought to the wisest, most courageous, most just and capable leader in the world. Outside of Her Highness, of course, who is your equal in all ways. Knowing how much the two of you have in common, Wali Daad could think of no one better than you to be clothed in the softest silks and most intricate brocades woven in both lands. They are a gift given straight from her hands to my friend Wali Daad, and Wali Daad wishes for you in turn to benefit from them.”

  “He does, does he?” the prince mused.

  “He insists your outsides should match your insides, Your Highness,” Hassim asserted. “Her Highness gave this cloth to Wali Daad to do with as he saw fit, and he saw fit to have me bring it straight to you. The only other person Wali Daad and I know who could possibly be worthy of such beauty would be Her Highness, but as they came as a gift from her hand, they could hardly be returned to her, now could they?” He shrugged eloquently.

  Prince Kavi chuckled. “Indeed. A gift given with no expectation other than the honoring of one whom someone admires is indeed a true honoring. But though it comes with no expectation, I cannot let the generosity of this Wali Daad pass unanswered. You shall spend the night as a guest in my palace, and in the morning, I shall send twelve of my finest horses back with you, as a gift for this Wali Daad. A man so wise and so generous deserves equal praise and presentation. Come!” Prince Kavi added, gesturing at one of his attendants, “My valet will introduce you and your men to the delights of my bathhouse, with its steam room, its talented masseurs, and the sweetest scented anointing oils from the four corners of the world . . .”

  “TWELVE horses.”

  “Yes, my friend.”

  “Twelve horses . . . for me.”

  “Yes, my friend.”

  “Hassim, I feed horses!” Wali Daad protested, throwing up his hands. “I do not own them! What am I going to do with two magnificent, royally bred stallions and ten equally marvelous mares? Horses need exercising and tending and . . . and being put to work, either before a plow or beneath a saddle! What am I going to do with them? I cut grass all day!”

  Eyeing his men, who were grinning as they went about their tasks of watering and grooming the horses and camels of the caravan, Hassim coughed delicately into his hand. “Well . . . you could always make another request . . .”

  “And just have you pass them along to Her Highness with more of my compliments?” Wali Daad finished for him, his tone as wry as the twist of his lips. Hassim grinned, and the grass cutter sighed. “Fine! Pass them along to Her Highness with both my and His Highness’s compliments! She undoubtedly has far more need of such fine beasts than I ever would. I cut grass for horses. I do not stable and breed them—keep a horse for yourself, if you like,” he added, wanting to share such generosity. “For though you may travel that way anyway, you still have gone to great lengths for me in all of this.”

  Laughing, Hassim shook his head. “No, no, my friend; a camel is worth its weight in what it can carry, but horses as fine as these are meant for warriors and queens to ride, not mere humble merchants such as myself. I shall not insult the royal breeding stock of the East by demanding they carry baggage. As I am headed to the West, I shall deliver these fine animals to Her Highness personally, exactly as you request.”

  “Thank you,” Wali Daad replied. “You are a truly worthy friend, Hassim.”

  “As are you, Wali Daad,” the merchant agreed.

  THIS time, after the gift of the horses were presented and a few questions were answered, Her Highness requested that the merchant Hassim enjoy the delights of her fruit garden while she consulted with her advisors on a suitable reply to this newest gift.

  Her grand vizier, an old friend of her father’s and a particularly wise nobleman, stroked his beard as they sat in council. “This is a very impressive gift. While our textiles may be accounted the finest, the royal stables of the West have nothing quite as good as these Eastern stallions and mares. And to send two stallions, with the potential to breed them to many more mares as well as the ten fine, four-legged ladies you have been given, Your Highness . . . this is a wealth above and beyond all expectation.”

  “It is, indeed,” Princess Ananya agreed. “I cannot help but wonder at the motivation.”

  “The esteemed merchant was very insistent that this was a gift of admiration, not of expectation,” the princess’s lady of the exchequery stated. Matronly but still something of a beauty, she deigned to wrinkle her nose in distaste. “But as it is such a generous gift, it does carry an obligation. Your Highness is right; we must wonder at his motivation.”

  “If there were more ties between the West and the East, such generosity would be less fraught with worry over His Highness’s motivation,” the chamberlain pointed out. “We are not at war with them by any means, but, well, our dealings with the East have been cordial and polite at best for the last few generations. For His Highness to send these horses . . . !”

  “Technically, he sent them to this Wali Daad,” the lady of the exchequery pointed out.

  “Who in turn sent them on to us,” the grand vizier argued. “As he sent the bracelets, crafted by Prince Kavi’s own royal jeweler. Is this a prelude to a stronger treaty of trade an
d peace between our lands?”

  “Priceless bracelets and royal steeds?” the chief enchantress snorted. She was originally from the North Kingdom, where wizards and enchanters were found and trained. She was also a plainspoken woman. “They sound more like courting gifts to me! On the eastern edge of the kingdom, where the grasslands stretch long and wide, it is not unusual for a would-be groom to gift the family of a prospective bride with a fine horse. If it is a custom so close to the border on our side, it may be a custom close to the border on their side as well, and His Highness may be trying to subtly capitalize upon such a similarity.”

  The general of the armies spoke up, joining the argument. “But we do not know if this is the case.” He did not speak often, but when he did, his points were salient. All of the men and women in the room gave him the courtesy of their attention. “Your Highness,” he stated, addressing Princess Ananya, “we must ascertain what his motives are. But we must be cautious in doing so and not give offense. As wonderful as these gifts are, we must treat these things carefully.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Ananya agreed. “If we ask outright if this is a courtship gift and he says no, this could be a point of embarrassment between us, and thus a point of tension between our lands. If it is a courtship gift, and we do not treat it with the respect such an offer deserves at the very least, again we may cause offense. Thus we must probe subtly at His Highness’s intentions.”

  “Do you have an idea, Your Highness?” the grand vizier asked.

  “Yes. If this is a prelude to a closer political relationship, it would behoove us to exchange more information about our own cultures. I will therefore send back several gifts: some will be trade goods such as we get from lands beyond our far borders, some will be the finest goods from within our territory, and some shall be books of the history and customs of the West. Among these books, I shall include a few tomes that are my personal favorites. If this is a prelude to a marriage offer more than a mere treaty,” the princess stated, “I would like to know from the onset whether or not His Highness will respect my passion for knowledge and respect my tastes in reading material.”