The Arabian Nights (New Deluxe Edition) (81 page)

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The following, night Shahrazad said:

I heard, O happy King, that Anis al-Jalis replied, “If you had some musical instrument, our joy would be complete.” The old man said, “I do,” and rose to his feet. The caliph asked Ja'far, “What is he going to bring?” Ja'far replied, “O Commander of the Faithful, I do not know.” The old man went out and soon returned with a lute. When the caliph saw the lute, he recognized it as the one belonging to Ishak al-Nadim and said to Ja'far, “Ja'far, this girl is going to play the lute. By the tombs of my fathers and forefathers, if she sings well, I will pardon them and hang you, but if she sings badly, I will hang you all.” Ja'far replied, “O God, let her sing badly!” The caliph asked him, “Why so?” Ja'far replied, “Because if you hang us together, we will entertain each other.” The caliph laughed. Then the girl tuned the lute and began to play a melancholy measure so well that it filled their hearts with yearning and sadness. Then she sang the following verses:

You who rebuff us in love's misery,

Whatever you do, we deserve the pain.

Of you, for you, to you we do appeal,

You who listen to all those who complain.

Torment us not, we who pity deserve;

Fear the Almighty and yourself restrain.

We fear not that you'll glory in our death,

But we fear that you will wrong us again.

The caliph said, “Ja'far, never in my life have I heard anything lovelier.” Ja'far, realizing that the caliph was no longer angry, replied, “You are right, O Commander of the Faithful.” Then they descended from the tree and the caliph said to Ja'far, “I wish to join them and hear the girl sing before me.” Ja'far replied, “If we go in, we will spoil their pleasure and Shaikh Ibrahim will die of fright on the spot.” The caliph said, “I will not let him recognize me.” Then he left Ja'far standing and walked to the side overlooking the Tigris River.

While he was pondering what to do, he saw a fisherman fishing below the palace wall. It happened that the caliph had earlier heard a noise below the windows, and when he had asked the keeper of the garden Shaikh Ibrahim, “What is that noise?” the keeper had replied, “It is the voices of the fishermen,” and the caliph had said to him, “If you let them in again, I will hang you.” So the keeper had forbidden the fishermen from fishing there. But on that night a fisherman named Karim happened to pass by and, seeing the garden gate open, said to himself, “The keeper must have gone to sleep and forgot to shut the gate. I will carry my net and take advantage of his carelessness and go in and fish below the palace, for at this hour all is quiet and the fish are calm.”

But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.

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The following night Shahrazad said:

I heard, O happy King, that the fisherman happened to look back and suddenly saw the caliph. When he recognized him, his whole body began to tremble and he said, “O Commander of the Faithful, I did not do this because I took your commandment lightly, but because my poverty and need drove me to it.” The caliph said, “Don't be afraid. Cast the net for me.” The fisherman cast the net, and when he pulled it up, he found in it various kinds of fish. The caliph was pleased and said, “Pick out the salmon and clean them,” and the fisherman did as he bade. Then the caliph said, “Fisherman, take off your clothes,” and the fisherman took off a robe sewn in ninety patches and a turban. The caliph took the fisherman's clothes and put them on, saying to him, “Put on my clothes,” and the fisherman did so. Then the caliph veiled his face and said to the fisherman, “Go on your business.” Then he took a clean basket, covered the bottom with green leaves, and placed the fish inside. Then he went back and stood before Ja'far, who took him for a fisherman, but when the caliph began to laugh, Ja'far recognized him and asked, “Are you the Commander of the Faithful?” and he replied, “Yes,” adding, “Stay here until I return.”

Then the caliph went up to the palace door and knocked. Nur al-Din said, “Shaikh, there is knocking at the door.” The old man cried out, “Who is there?” and the caliph replied, “I, Karim the fisherman. I heard that you had guests and brought you some fish.”

When Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis heard the mention of the fish, they were glad, and she said to the old man, “For my sake, please open the door and let him bring us the fish.” The old man rose and opened the door, and when the caliph entered and saluted, Shaikh Ibrahim said to him, “Welcome, you gambling thief! Show us what you have.” The caliph showed them the fish, and the girl said, “By God, these are fine fish, but they would have been better if they had been fried.” Shaikh Ibrahim said to the caliph, “Why didn't you bring us the fish ready fried; what shall we do with them? Go, fry them, and bring them back,” and he yelled at him. The caliph went out running until he came up to Ja'far and said, “O Ja'far!” Ja'far asked, “What is the good news, O Commander of the Faithful?” The caliph replied, “They want the fish fried.” Ja'far said, “I will fry them,” but the caliph replied, “By the tombs of my fathers and forefathers, none shall fry them but I, with my own hands.” Then the caliph went to the keeper's hut, where he found everything he needed, to the salt and marjoram. Then he placed the frying pan on the stove, poured in some sesame oil and, lighting the fire, placed the fish in the frying pan and fried them. Then he added lemons and radishes, carried the dish back to the palace, and set it before them. They all ate, and when they finished, Nur al-Din said to the caliph, “O fisherman, you have done us a good deed.” Then he put his hand in his pocket and took out a paper purse.

But morning overtook Sbahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.

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The following night Shahrazad said:

I heard, O happy King, that Nur al-Din took out a paper purse containing thirty dinars, which were the remainder of the money the chamberlain had given him before he fled, and said to the caliph, “O fisherman, excuse me, for this is all I have. By God, had I known you before I spent all my inheritance, I would have done away with the bitterness of poverty in your heart. Take this as a token of my good will.” Then he threw the money to the caliph, who caught it and, kissing it, put it away. The caliph, whose only wish was to hear the girl sing, said to Nur al-Din, “My lord, you have rewarded me handsomely, but I would like you to do me one more favor and let the young lady sing a song for me.” Nur al-Din said, “O Anis al-Jalis; sing something for the sake of this fisherman.” Anis al-Jalis took the lute and, tuning it, played a measure, then sang the following verses:

The fingers of the fair caressed the strings

And ravished the soul with her dulcet lute

And with her singing cured the very deaf

And “Bravo!” cried out one who had been mute.

Then she played another measure, so beautifully that she dazzled their wits, and sang the following verses:

When with your visit you honored our land,

You filled the air with incense and dispelled the gloom;

Therefore, with camphor, rosewater, and musk

It well behooves me my house to perfume.

The caliph was delighted and said, “I have never heard anyone sing as well.” Nur al-Din said to him, “Take her as a gift from me to you.” Then he rose, intending to put on his robe and depart, but Anis al-Jalis turned to him and said, “Where are you going? If you must leave me, then stay a while and let me tell you how I feel.” Then she recited the following verses:

My memories and longing have tormented me

Until they turned me into a poor ghost.

O my darling, I have not forgot you;

Am still the same, still to my torments host.

If one was able to swim in his tears,

I would be the first in my tears to swim.

O you whose love has filled my brimming heart

As wine fills up the wine cup to the brim,

Whose love has wracked my body and my soul,

The fate I dreaded has forced us apart.

O Khaqan's son, O my sole wish and hope,

Who will always reign and rule in my heart,

For my sake you transgressed against our lord,

To spend in exile the rest of your days.

May God give you to me, even though you

Gave me to Karim, who deserves the praise.

When the caliph heard her conclude, “You gave me to Karim . . .”

But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.

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The following night Shahrazad said:

When the caliph heard her conclude with the words, “You gave me to Karim,” he turned to Nur al-Din and asked, “My lord, the girl said in her verses that you had transgressed against her lord and master. Against whom did you transgress, and who is it who has a claim on you?” Nur al-Din replied, “Fisherman, what has happened to me and to this girl is extraordinary.” The caliph said, “Tell me your story.” Nur al-Din asked, “Do you wish to hear it in prose or in verse?” The caliph replied, “O my lord, prose is words, but verse is strung pearls.” Nur al-Din bowed his head and recited the following verses:

O my dear friend, I can no longer sleep,

And my grief has increased since I left home.

I had a father once who loved me well,

But left me and lay dead under a dome.

Then after him misfortunes fell on me

And with a broken heart have left me now.

He had bought me a girl so beautiful

That her fair figure put to shame the bough.

Then I spent all my substance for her sake

And lavished all I had on every friend.

When all was gone, I put her up for sale,

Forced by my dire need to that loathsome end.

But when the auctioneer called out for bids

And a vile old man was having his way,

I was so furious that I angrily

From the broker wrested the girl away,

When that vile old man out of pent-up hate,

Gave me a blow that hurt and made me smart,

But I fell on him with hard rights and lefts,

Knocking him down, until I soothed my heart.

Then I left and hastened back to my house

And out of fear myself from my foes hid,

And when the king sent men to have me seized,

A great and wise chamberlain came and bid

Me flee my native land and go abroad

And leave behind my many envious foes.