Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 06 (21 page)

He passed the rest of the night on the steps of a mosque, and
with the first streaks of dawn he took his picture out of the
folds of his turban. Then, remembering Zelida's words, he
inquired the way to the bazaar, and went straight to the shop she
had described.

In answer to Neangir's request to be shown some watches, the
merchant produced several and pointed out the one which he
considered the best. The price was three gold pieces, which
Neangir readily agreed to give him; but the man made a difficulty
about handing over the watch unless he knew where his customer
lived.

'That is more than I know myself,' replied Neangir. 'I only
arrived in the town yesterday and cannot find the way to the
house where I went first.'

'Well,' said the merchant, 'come with me, and I will take you to
a good Mussulman, where you will have everything you desire at a
small charge.'

Neangir consented, and the two walked together through several
streets till they reached the house recommended by the Jewish
merchant. By his advice the young man paid in advance the last
gold piece that remained to him for his food and lodging.

As soon as Neangir had dined he shut himself up in his room, and
thrusting his hand into the folds of his turban, drew out his
beloved portrait. As he did so, he touched a sealed letter which
had apparently been hidden there without his knowledge, and
seeing it was written by his foster-mother, Zinebi, he tore it
eagerly open. Judge of his surprise when he read these words:

'My dearest Child,—This letter, which you will some day find in
your turban, is to inform you that you are not really our son. We
believe your father to have been a great lord in some distant
land, and inside this packet is a letter from him, threatening to
be avenged on us if you are not restored to him at once. We shall
always love you, but do not seek us or even write to us. It will
be useless.'

In the same wrapper was a roll of paper with a few words as
follows, traced in a hand unknown to Neangir:

'Traitors, you are no doubt in league with those magicians who
have stolen the two daughters of the unfortunate Siroco, and have
taken from them the talisman given them by their father. You have
kept my son from me, but I have found out your hiding-place and
swear by the Holy Prophet to punish your crime. The stroke of my
scimitar is swifter than the lightning.'

The unhappy Neangir on reading these two letters— of which he
understood absolutely nothing—felt sadder and more lonely than
ever. It soon dawned on him that he must be the son of the man
who had written to Mohammed and his wife, but he did not know
where to look for him, and indeed thought much more about the
people who had brought him up and whom he was never to see again.

To shake off these gloomy feelings, so as to be able to make some
plans for the future, Neangir left the house and walked briskly
about the city till darkness had fallen. He then retraced his
steps and was just crossing the threshold when he saw something
at his feet sparkling in the moonlight. He picked it up, and
discovered it to be a gold watch shining with precious stones. He
gazed up and down the street to see if there was anyone about to
whom it might belong, but there was not a creature visible. So he
put it in his sash, by the side of a silver watch which he had
bought from the Jew that morning.

The possession of this piece of good fortune cheered Neangir up a
little, 'for,' thought he, 'I can sell these jewels for at least
a thousand sequins, and that will certainly last me till I have
found my father.' And consoled by this reflection he laid both
watches beside him and prepared to sleep.

In the middle of the night he awoke suddenly and heard a soft
voice speaking, which seemed to come from one of the watches.

'Aurora, my sister,' it whispered gently. 'Did they remember to
wind you up at midnight?'

'No, dear Argentine,' was the reply. 'And you?'

'They forgot me, too,' answered the first voice, 'and it is now
one o'clock, so that we shall not be able to leave our prison
till to-morrow—if we are not forgotten again—then.'

'We have nothing now to do here,' said Aurora. 'We must resign
ourselves to our fate—let us go.'

Filled with astonishment Neangir sat up in bed, and beheld by the
light of the moon the two watches slide to the ground and roll
out of the room past the cats' quarters. He rushed towards the
door and on to the staircase, but the watches slipped downstairs
without his seeing them, and into the street. He tried to unlock
the door and follow them, but the key refused to turn, so he gave
up the chase and went back to bed.

The next day all his sorrows returned with tenfold force. He felt
himself lonelier and poorer than ever, and in a fit of despair he
thrust his turban on his head, stuck his sword in his belt, and
left the house determined to seek an explanation from the
merchant who had sold him the silver watch.

When Neangir reached the bazaar he found the man he sought was
absent from his shop, and his place filled by another Jew.

'It is my brother you want,' said he; 'we keep the shop in turn,
and in turn go into the city to do our business.'

'Ah! what business?' cried Neangir in a fury. 'You are the
brother of a scoundrel who sold me yesterday a watch that ran
away in the night. But I will find it somehow, or else you shall
pay for it, as you are his brother!'

'What is that you say?' asked the Jew, around whom a crowd had
rapidly gathered. 'A watch that ran away. If it had been a cask
of wine, your story might be true, but a watch—! That is hardly
possible!'

'The Cadi shall say whether it is possible or not,' replied
Neangir, who at that moment perceived the other Jew enter the
bazaar. Darting up, he seized him by the arm and dragged him to
the Cadi's house; but not before the man whom he had found in the
shop contrived to whisper to his brother, in a tone loud enough
for Neangir to hear, 'Confess nothing, or we shall both be lost.'

When the Cadi was informed of what had taken place he ordered the
crowd to be dispersed by blows, after the Turkish manner, and
then asked Neangir to state his complaint. After hearing the
young man's story, which seemed to him most extraordinary, he
turned to question the Jewish merchant, who instead of answering
raised his eyes to heaven and fell down in a dead faint.

The judge took no notice of the swooning man, but told Neangir
that his tale was so singular he really could not believe it, and
that he should have the merchant carried back to his own house.
This so enraged Neangir that he forgot the respect due to the
Cadi, and exclaimed at the top of his voice, 'Recover this fellow
from his fainting fit, and force him to confess the truth,'
giving the Jew as he spoke a blow with his sword which caused him
to utter a piercing scream.

'You see for yourself,' said the Jew to the Cadi, 'that this
young man is out of his mind. I forgive him his blow, but do not,
I pray you, leave me in his power.'

At that moment the Bassa chanced to pass the Cadi's house, and
hearing a great noise, entered to inquire the cause. When the
matter was explained he looked attentively at Neangir, and asked
him gently how all these marvels could possibly have happened.

'My lord,' replied Neangir, 'I swear I have spoken the truth, and
perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that I myself have
been the victim of spells wrought by people of this kind, who
should be rooted out from the earth. For three years I was
changed into a three- legged pot, and only returned to man's
shape when one day a turban was laid upon my lid.'

At these words the Bassa rent his robe for joy, and embracing
Neangir, he cried, 'Oh, my son, my son, have I found you at last?
Do you not come from the house of Mohammed and Zinebi?'

'Yes, my lord,' replied Neangir, 'it was they who took care of me
during my misfortune, and taught me by their example to be less
worthy of belonging to you.'

'Blessed be the Prophet,' said the Bassa, 'who has restored one
of my sons to me, at the time I least expected it! You know,' he
continued, addressing the Cadi, 'that during the first years of
my marriage I had three sons by the beautiful Zambac. When he was
three years old a holy dervish gave the eldest a string of the
finest coral, saying "Keep this treasure carefully, and be
faithful to the Prophet, and you will be happy." To the second,
who now stands before you, he presented a copper plate on which
the name of Mahomet was engraved in seven languages, telling him
never to part from his turban, which was the sign of a true
believer, and he would taste the greatest of all joys; while on
the right arm of the third the dervish clasped a bracelet with
the prayer that his right hand should be pure and the left
spotless, so that he might never know sorrow.

'My eldest son neglected the counsel of the dervish and terrible
troubles fell on him, as also on the youngest. To preserve the
second from similar misfortunes I brought him up in a lonely
place, under the care of a faithful servant named Gouloucou,
while I was fighting the enemies of our Holy Faith. On my return
from the wars I hastened to embrace my son, but both he and
Gouloucou had vanished, and it is only a few months since that I
learned that the boy was living with a man called Mohammed, whom
I suspected of having stolen him. Tell me, my son, how it came
about that you fell into his hands.'

'My lord,' replied Neangir, 'I can remember little of the early
years of my life, save that I dwelt in a castle by the seashore
with an old servant. I must have been about twelve years old when
one day as we were out walking we met a man whose face was like
that of this Jew, coming dancing towards us. Suddenly I felt
myself growing faint. I tried to raise my hands to my head, but
they had become stiff and hard. In a word, I had been changed
into a copper pot, and my arms formed the handle. What happened
to my companion I know not, but I was conscious that someone had
picked me up, and was carrying me quickly away.

'After some days, or so it seemed to me, I was placed on the
ground near a thick hedge, and when I heard my captor snoring
beside me I resolved to make my escape. So I pushed my way among
the thorns as well as I could, and walked on steadily for about
an hour.

'You cannot imagine, my lord, how awkward it is to walk with
three legs, especially when your knees are as stiff as mine were.
At length after much difficulty I reached a market-garden, and
hid myself deep down among the cabbages, where I passed a quiet
night.

'The next morning, at sunrise, I felt some one stooping over me
and examining me closely. "What have you got there, Zinebi?" said
the voice of a man a little way off.

'"The most beautiful pot in the whole world," answered the woman
beside me, "and who would have dreamed of finding it among my
cabbages!"

'Mohammed lifted me from the ground and looked at me with
admiration. That pleased me, for everyone likes to be admired,
even if he is only a pot! And I was taken into the house and
filled with water, and put on the fire to boil.

'For three years I led a quiet and useful life, being scrubbed
bright every day by Zinebi, then a young and beautiful woman.

'One morning Zinebi set me on the fire, with a fine fillet of
beef inside me to cook for dinner. Being afraid that some of the
steam would escape through the lid, and that the taste of her
stew would be spoilt, she looked about for something to put over
the cover, but could see nothing handy but her husband's turban.
She tied it firmly round the lid, and then left the room. For the
first time during three years I began to feel the fire burning
the soles of my feet, and moved away a little— doing this with a
great deal more ease than I had felt when making my escape to
Mohammed's garden. I was somehow aware, too, that I was growing
taller; in fact in a few minutes I was a man again.

'After the third hour of prayer Mohammed and Zinebi both
returned, and you can guess their surprise at finding a young man
in the kitchen instead of a copper pot! I told them my story,
which at first they refused to believe, but in the end I
succeeded in persuading them that I was speaking the truth. For
two years more I lived with them, and was treated like their own
son, till the day when they sent me to this city to seek my
fortune. And now, my lords, here are the two letters which I
found in my turban. Perhaps they may be another proof in favour
of my story.'

Whilst Neangir was speaking, the blood from the Jew's wound had
gradually ceased to flow; and at this moment there appeared in
the doorway a lovely Jewess, about twenty-two years old, her hair
and her dress all disordered, as if she had been flying from some
great danger. In one hand she held two crutches of white wood,
and was followed by two men. The first man Neangir knew to be the
brother of the Jew he had struck with his sword, while in the
second the young man thought he recognised the person who was
standing by when he was changed into a pot. Both of these men had
a wide linen band round their thighs and held stout sticks.

The Jewess approached the wounded man and laid the two crutches
near him; then, fixing her eyes on him, she burst into tears.

'Unhappy Izouf,' she murmured, 'why do you suffer yourself to be
led into such dangerous adventures? Look at the consequences, not
only to yourself, but to your two brothers,' turning as she spoke
to the men who had come in with her, and who had sunk down on the
mat at the feet of the Jew.

The Bassa and his companions were struck both with the beauty of
the Jewess and also with her words, and begged her to give them
an explanation.

'My lords,' she said, 'my name is Sumi, and I am the daughter of
Moizes, one of our most famous rabbis. I am the victim of my love
for Izaf,' pointing to the man who had entered last, 'and in
spite of his ingratitude, I cannot tear him from my heart. Cruel
enemy of my life,' she continued turning to Izaf, 'tell these
gentlemen your story and that of your brothers, and try to gain
your pardon by repentance.'