Tales of the Marvellous and News of the Strange (Hardcover Classics) (8 page)

So much for the king, but as for Yaquta’s mother, she summoned Sawab to a consultation. ‘This is a strange affair,’ she told him, ‘and a lesson for those who can learn. Do you know who this boy is whose hands and feet have been cut off?’ ‘No, by God,’ replied Sawab, and she then told him that this was Kaukab, the son of King Fulk. He had told her his story from beginning to end, including what the chamberlain had done thanks to his enmity towards his mother. ‘He suggests that you should go to his father Fulk and tell him what happened to him and Yaquta, for otherwise that damned man will arrange for us all to be
destroyed even if we hide beneath the edge of the world. As he has no hands or feet, put him in a carrying couch like a split oyster and leave with your men. I myself shall not stay behind but will follow you. Make a forced march across the dangerous country and pass through my husband’s land. Then send a Bedouin to Fulk to tell him what has happened and don’t stay here lest you suffer the vengeance of this creature who is no man and who will not see the face of the Merciful God in the next world.’

When Sawab heard this he went out and told his companions what had happened. They mounted and, taking with them camels and mules, they left the city and when they were at some distance from it they made for one of his garrison castles, a strong place and so high that its top was almost out of sight. Sawab told his party to go up, for they could stay there even if they were besieged until the Day of Resurrection. Kaukab, however, said: ‘Carry me to my father so that he can see me and satisfy his longing as well as avenging me if he can for what has been done to me.’ ‘Do what you want, master,’ said Sawab, ‘for we are your servants.’ They then stored all their baggage and that evening Sawab set out, leaving the castle and pressing on towards the gate of Saihun, unafraid because the castle walls were as high as a star in the sky.

When the chamberlain was unable to find Sawab and his men, he gave a hundred dinars to a Bedouin, asking him to find out where they had gone and promising him a robe of honour and a horse. The man agreed, mounted his dromedary and rode off in pursuit of Sawab’s men, whom he joined and accompanied to the castle. He then started back to the city with people staring at his white dromedary, which was moving like the wind and leaving a trail of pebbles scattered by the soles of its feet. Its rider had no need to lash its flanks, as it was like a gust of wind or a pigeon in flight.

So much for the Bedouin, but in the city was a sailor who had been given a thousand dinars by Sawab’s people, who had told him that he could live on this for the rest of his life as long as no one knew about him. The possession of the money drove him out of his wits, as he had no idea what it was worth. He bought clothes for his daughter, his other children and his wife, as well as a new boat for himself, and he appeared in clothes that he used only to wear at the
‘Id
. His neighbour, another sailor, went at night to the chamberlain and told him about this, at which the chamberlain summoned the man and questioned him. Because of his fear he gave away his secret and was imprisoned. Next morning
he was taken before the king, who asked him for his story, and when he had heard it he told the chamberlain: ‘This is a poor fellow. Don’t talk to him but let him go.’

The man was released, and the king ordered his men to pursue Sawab to his castle and lay siege to it. When the Bedouin learned that the king had come, he tethered his dromedary by its reins, went into his presence, greeted him, kissed his hand and told him what had happened, at which the king ordered his men to set off in pursuit of Sawab. They followed him for a whole month before catching up with him under a mountain soaring up into the air. When Sawab saw how many men were there he and his followers took refuge on the lower slopes of the mountain. He fought until nightfall but was defeated by numbers and had to take refuge on the peak, although the water was at the mountain’s foot.

Young Kaukab, despairing of life, crawled off to perform his prayers, and Sawab told his mistress that they were lost. ‘Things are in the hands of God,’ she told him, ‘for the enemy have the water, while none of us have more than to wet our lips as our beasts die.’ On hearing this, Yaquta said: ‘It may be that God will bring us speedy relief, answer our payers and help us to avoid destruction, while pitying our exile.’

Next morning clamour and shouts were raised from all sides with the chamberlain telling his men not to stop until they had cut down their enemies with their swords. The water was under their control, and Sawab’s men drank what they had, with some giving theirs to others, while Kaukab took none, offering his sacrifice to Almighty God. In the evening their enemies patrolled around them and lit fires in front of them. Kaukab crawled away from his friends, but Yaquta caught sight of him and asked him what he was doing. ‘There is something I need to do,’ he told her, ‘and I raise it as a complaint to God. So sleep, secure in His protection.’ She was afraid that he might try to commit suicide, and both she and her mother kept him in view, with tears falling over their cheeks.

As for Kaukab, he looked up to heaven, bare-headed and tearful, and stretching out his arms he said: ‘My God, has my mother not entrusted me to You? Did she not shed tears and bare her head before You, saying that she gave me to You? If this is something You have already decreed and written down as my destiny, look down on me. My Lord, to whom should I go for refuge when it is You Who have led me safely along my way? How am I to reach You, on Whom I depend for my livelihood? Grant me Your gracious pity and forgiveness and do not allow this
unbeliever to slake his hatred on me. My God, if Iblis helps him, help me, for You are the best of helpers. My God, You know that I have no one to aid me, come to my aid and take my part. My God, I am thrown down at Your door, unable to stand, so do not drive me away. My Lord, I can no longer endure mankind, take my soul and release me, for You are the only Master to Whom I turn in all humility, so do not forget me. Look on me with Your eye that never sleeps, for here I am before You, and You can hear me. I have put my hopes on You, so do not disappoint me. Lord, You know what is hidden in secret.’ He wept and struck his head on a stone, adding tears and groans. The tears were followed by an effusion of blood as he threw himself down on the ground, which was stained by blood from his face.

Yaquta and her mother both bared their heads and joined him in his supplications. Yaquta said: ‘My Lord, You know our state so show us Your mercy, most merciful God.’ She then recited these lines:

Lord, You Who see and are not seen,

You see our cheeks that lie in dust,

Our heads uncovered before all,

And how the tears drop from our eyes.

You see our dwellings which are desolate,

So look at us, You Who decree our fate.

Be gentle, You Who see and are not seen.

She tore her hair, which was carried off by the wind, but just then a heavenly voice called out: ‘Cover your heads so that the angels of the Lord may visit you.’ Yaquta and her mother did this, and suddenly there was a blaze of light like a lightning flash, and the voice said: ‘Young man, turn on your back and stretch out your hands and feet, for these have been granted to you by God Who provides you with nourishment in the darkness of your intestines.’ At that a hand joined one of his wrists and another the other. Kaukab exclaimed: ‘By God, I feel the veins joining up, with the blood flowing and the flesh becoming firm under a covering of skin! Looking at the gift God has granted me, I kiss the ground in gratitude to Him.’

He then got up like a moon emerging from cloud, praising God the Omniscient for having ended his pain. He stood and walked as though this was his first day, his heart filled with happiness at God’s gift. Next morning he put on his breastplate, strapped on his Indian sword and fastened his jewelled waist-belt. He then came down from the mountain
peak and rode off alone
[lac.]
The king said that no one was to shoot at him as he might be a messenger whose rights would have to be respected. ‘Why shouldn’t we kill him and burn his body so that he doesn’t try to get something from us?’ asked the chamberlain, but on hearing this the king told him: ‘Wait! Don’t talk like this or rush to harm him before we find out why he has come. Then if he deserves to be hanged, we can hang him.’

When Kaukab had come close he dismounted and began to walk through the ranks of the king’s men, who parted for him and sheathed their swords. On seeing the king, he threw himself on him and embraced him, experiencing a feeling of passionate love for him in his heart, for which he could not account. He then said: ‘King of Jaihun, have you no fear of the Lord of destiny, He Who says to something: “Be”, and it is. Has the life of this world deceived you, and its victims are cheated in their bargain. Why do you not inquire into the condition of the people?
[lac.]
You have been entrusted with their affairs but have not acted as a ruler should; you have been raised above them, but have not shown justice. I do not think that you have your wits about you when you send away a man like me and associate yourself with this chamberlain. The whole world watches him in silence for the power is in his hands, and he and they are like two moons – blessed be God, the best of Creators!’

Just then the chamberlain came up to him and said: ‘You fellow with the fiery hot eyes, what dog are you to stand before the king and make this speech at him?’ ‘Don’t you recognize me?’ asked Kaukab on hearing this; ‘Open your eyes and look at me. I am the man who had two hands given me by God, and it was God Who restored them to my wrists, as He restored my feet to my legs. That was through the power of the Creator of heaven and earth, and I am the noble hero who owes obedience to this king and have no blame to attach to him. As for you, I shall strike off your head in his presence and use your blood to gain his favour, for I am Kaukab, the son of Fulk, the lord of the two rivers, Saihun and Jaihun.’

Kaukab then told his story to the king, explaining what the chamberlain had done to him, leaving the king to exclaim: ‘By the Lord of the sacred Ka‘ba,
Zamzam
and the
Maqam
, Fulk is my master!’ Then he went on: ‘Strike this pimp, the chamberlain, with your spear points,’ and his men rushed at him with their spears, drawing their swords. The first to strike him on the head and cut him in two with his sword was Prince Kaukab. His soul left his body – may God show him no mercy
but turn him away! May He moisten no ground for him but curse him! A number of soldiers went on striking him with their swords and thrusting at him with their spears until he had been cut to pieces and God had delivered the people from him.

At that moment Sawab came down from the mountain with the king’s sister, his mother and all his men, and it was just then that Fulk arrived with his men as the cavalry horses whinnied and the earth shook with the numbers and the trampling of hooves. He and King Kaukab
[sic]
dismounted and kissed the ground in front of Fulk, who, when he saw his son Kaukak, fell to the ground in a faint. Kaukab then embraced him and he gave thanks to God for having restored his son to him.

When his mother heard, she came and embraced him, before saying: ‘My son, tell me your story. We have been filled with concern for you, so tell me what happened.’ Kaukab told the whole tale from beginning to end and, on hearing it, Fulk’s delight at the safety of his son was matched by his furious anger at what the chamberlain, God curse him, had done. ‘Praise be to God Who has granted me the gift of your hands and feet!’ he exclaimed. He then clothed Kaukab in a splendid robe of honour and entered the city in which was the son of his servant. There he gave his instructions to the qadi and the witnesses and drew up a marriage contract between his son Kaukab and Yaquta, the daughter of his servant. He provided them with a splendid banquet attended by high and low alike and he presented them with an abundance of wealth as well as gifts and treasures. Kaukab lay with Yaquta and was delighted to find her a virgin.

He stayed for three days with her brother and then went back with his father to the kingdom of Saihun, which was transferred to him, and he stayed there with his father until the latter died.

This is the full story – Glory be to the One God and blessings be on the best of His creation, Muhammad, his family and his companions.

In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful

They say – and God knows better – that there is a story dating from past times which tells of a qadi in Fustat, one of the leading men of the city, who lived in luxury with possessions, property and estates. To his great joy God granted him a son, the most beautiful child ever seen, whom he called Talha. He gathered everyone, high and low alike, to a magnificent banquet, after which he handed the boy over to nurses, who continued to suckle him and look after him carefully until, by the time he was six years old, he had grown into a big child. His father then chose a teacher to instruct him at home and bought him a servant and a maid of the same age as himself. The maid’s name was Tuhfa, and the teacher was told to let her learn everything that he taught Talha. As a result Talha learned nothing that she did not.

Talha’s fondness for the girl turned to love, and for her part Tuhfa was so enamoured of him that she could not bear to be parted from him for the blink of an eye. They were still in love when they grew up, and by then they had mastered every branch of learning and culture. The qadi was pleased to hear of this. He gave orders that Tuhfa’s position should be regularized and he gave her in marriage to Talha in a fine wedding on which he spent a huge amount of money. He held a banquet to mark the wedding attended by all Egyptians, high and low, men and women, and the love felt by each of the pair for the other increased.

After the marriage had been consummated, Talha gave orders that Tuhfa be taught all the skills needed by slave girls, such as singing to the accompaniment of musical instruments. This was done without his father’s knowledge, and Tuhfa became the most accomplished of all in this art.

The qadi lived for some time after Talha’s marriage but then died, and
after his death Talha began on a career of reckless extravagance. He disposed of all the properties that his father had bequeathed him until he was reduced to poverty, having nothing left and nothing to fall back on. At this point, when it did no good, he began to feel regret, and things went on like this until for three days he and Tuhfa had nothing at all to eat. As they sat opposite each other in tears, Tuhfa said that if things went on like that they were bound to die, but she had a plan, difficult as it would be for her. ‘What is it?’ Talha asked. ‘Tell me.’

‘Master,’ she said, ‘if we stay like this without eating for another day we shall very certainly die. What I think is that you should take me out to the market and sell me, for girls like me are in demand. You will be able to live off what you get for me, and I shall be able to live with whoever buys me, and this will mean that neither of us will die. By God, master, whatever I have to eat or drink I shall share with you.’

When Talha heard this he almost went mad and with tears raining down his cheeks he asked: ‘Tuhfa, can you do without me?’ ‘By God, master,’ she said, ‘I didn’t say this because I was tired of you or because I hated you, but because I am sorry for you and pity you and don’t want to be responsible for your death. But the decision is yours, so do what you want, as you think fit.’

For a time Talha bowed his head in silence, thinking over her suggestion and finding it good. ‘Tuhfa,’ he said, ‘since things are as you have described, and you’re not doing this out of boredom or dislike, I shall do what you advise, but for three days the sale will be conditional, and if I find that I can endure this and enjoy life after parting from you, I shall finalize it, but if not, I shall take you back, and we shall have to endure whatever the Glorious God decrees for us.’ ‘Do as you want, master,’ she told him.

Talha got up straight away and went to one of his friends whom he asked if he knew a slave-dealer in Fustat who could sell valuable slaves. The friend sent for one, whom Talha went to greet. On seeing him, the man recognized him from his description and asked him how he was and what he wanted. ‘Sir,’ said Talha, ‘I have a slave girl who was brought up with me and of whom I am fond. I want to sell her conditionally for three days, and then take her back if I find that I cannot do without her.’

The dealer agreed to do this for him, and he went back to tell this to Tuhfa, before taking her by the hand and going out with her. Both were sad and miserable at the prospect of parting, but Talha went on until he handed her over to the dealer, taking a tearful farewell of her as she too
wept. This went on so long that people were crowding around them, and so he left her and went away.

The dealer was astonished to see how beautiful and perfectly formed Tuhfa was and he exclaimed: ‘By God, I never thought that beauty and loveliness could be combined in a single person!’ He asked her for her name, and when she said ‘Tuhfa’ [rare gift] he said: ‘Whoever gave you this name was right for, by God, you live up to your name.’ He then cleared a space in his auction house that was suitable for a lovely girl like her and brought out a carpet and such utensils as would suit her. He then produced food and drink, which she enjoyed, but she spent the night shedding sorrowful tears because of her parting from her master.

Next day a prosperous and wealthy Syrian from Damascus came to the house. He was acting as an agent for a Damascene merchant who had described the kind of slave girl he wanted his friend to buy for him when he went to Fustat, a description whose match was scarcely to be found anywhere in the world. Every day that the man had come there he had been shown girls, but none of them fitted the description he had been given. That had been going on for so long that he had despaired of finding the one he had been asked for. Tuhfa, however, was ten times better.

When the Syrian came in next day the dealer hurried up to tell him of Tuhfa, saying: ‘Sir, I have got just the girl you want or even better.’ ‘Bring her out so that I can see what you have brought me,’ the man said, and the dealer took him by the hand and led him to the sale room. After having seated him he fetched Tuhfa to show to him. She was gorgeously dressed with the most splendid ornaments, and when the man saw her beauty and her perfect figure he was filled with astonishment. ‘By God,’ he exclaimed, ‘this is what I was looking for, and many, many times better. If in addition to her beauty she possesses culture and learning, that would add perfection.’

‘By God,’ said the dealer, ‘I know of no one in all Fustat who knows more than she does, as she has a perfect mastery of all branches of learning and culture.’ The Syrian then questioned her, asking her what she knew and at what she was proficient. She said: ‘I know the Qur’an by heart and can recite its various readings; I have a knowledge of the stars and of arithmetic; I can play chess and backgammon and I can accompany my singing on a variety of instruments. I am familiar with all of this.’ The Syrian told her to recite a passage from the Qur’an and she started with the
fatiha
, reciting it in so heart-rending a voice that he
almost fainted through humility. The dealer swore that nowhere in the east or the west could he hear a better reading.

Tuhfa then took a lute in her lap and, after striking a number of different modes, she produced these lines:

Our dwellings may be far apart,

So that I cannot visit you,

But still this love of mine remains the same,

And God forbid that it should ever change.

When the Syrian heard this he again almost fainted with joy and delight at the sweetness of her singing. ‘By God,’ he exclaimed to the dealer, ‘this girl is invaluable, and nowhere in the market is there anyone like her.’ He then asked the dealer to name a price, to which he answered: ‘Eight thousand dinars, and she is worth more than that.’ On hearing this the man realized that it was true and he was sure that his friend would buy her on sight for five thousand dinars and think it cheap, for he knew that her real worth was ten thousand. ‘I’ll take her from you for a thousand dinars,’ he said, paying him a hundred dinars for himself.

So delighted was the dealer that he forgot that Talha, her master, had specified a conditional sale for a period of three days. The buyer joyfully took Tuhfa off straight away, as he was afraid that she might be removed from him by force or someone might hear of her whom he could not turn away.

[Wehr, the editor of the Arabic text, notes an obvious lacuna in the text covering the journey from Fustat to Damascus and her transfer to her new master.]
He hired a place for her, thinking in his heart that she would soon forget the past, and he set aside for her the best and cleanest apartment in the house, to which he fetched a carpet and such utensils as would suit her. He brought her fine clothes, ornaments and expensive jewels and he gave her a number of maid-servants, before leaving her for a time to recover from the tiredness caused by the journey.

It was then that he called for her and when she came he questioned her to discover what she knew. He was filled with admiration at the abundance of culture and outstanding learning that he saw in her and he presented her with a magnificent robe of honour and a great amount of money. He told her to go back to her room, where he would spend the night with her, an announcement which she greeted with tears and sobs. He was surprised to be told of this and said that she was bound to
forget, not knowing that this was an expression of her great love for her master Talha.

That night her new master came joyfully to her room, filled with desire for her, and she greeted him with the best of welcomes, making a show of patience. When he had sat down he ordered food to be brought and when they had both eaten he followed this with wine to make her feel at ease. After he had drunk to her lovely face and perfect beauty, he asked her to sing. At first she refused and made excuses but when he pressed her politely she agreed. Taking the lute, she put it in her lap, then tuned it and began to sing so beautifully as to rob the Damascene of his wits:

I feel love’s pain on every side;

It changes me and robs me of my youth.

My love for Talha drowns me in its sea,

And it is this that brings me deep distress.

Never shall I forget him – this I swear –

Until my corpse lies shrouded in the earth.

When she had finished, she gave a great cry and fainted. The sight of this disturbed and distressed her master, who went up to comfort her, but she wept so bitterly that she fainted again. He felt sorry for her and asked her to tell him her story and who had been her master and who it was she loved. She said: ‘I was brought up from childhood with my master, whose father was Malik, the qadi of Fustat. It was he who had bought me when I was a child and he reared me with his son Talha until neither of us could bear to be parted from the other even for the blink of an eye.’

She went on to tell him about herself and Talha from beginning to end, how he had gone from riches to poverty, how he had squandered all his goods, how the two of them had spent three days without eating and how she had advised him to sell her, thinking that she would be bought by someone from Fustat, who would not take her away. She would have been able to look at Talha and hear about him at all times, but God, the Great and Glorious, had decreed that they should be parted. ‘By God,’ she said, ‘you will find no use in me nor will anyone else after Talha, and I know of no one who suffers a worse fate than mine during his life.’

She shed more tears, and when the Damascene had heard about her and Talha he felt pity for them and sympathized with her in her grief. ‘Tuhfa,’ he said, ‘if this is the case and you have shown such loyalty to your master, I call on God and His angels to witness that I give you back
to him as a present. Do not suppose that I am merely saying this to comfort and calm you for, by God, I have never gone back on my word.’

On hearing his promise, Tuhfa jumped up, kissed his hands and his feet, giving him the most heartfelt thanks and saying: ‘Master, how good and generous you have been! I am your slave, and so do with us what befits a man like you.’ He told her that she could be happy, as God had decreed that she should be reunited with her master and that, if He so willed it, he would soon be with her. She took heart, believing in his promise, and, after they had drunk, she took up the lute and went on singing to him as he drank and poured wine for her until he had made her drunk. He then took his leave and left her in her room while he went off to his bed.

For Tuhfa the pain of love and longing for her master was partially relieved as she was sure that she was going to meet him, and this calmed her dismay. After that the Damascene used to come to her room every night and drink with her while listening to her singing, choosing the songs and leaving after he had had enough to drink. That went on until he had made all necessary preparations for a journey to Egypt, as she kept on reminding him of his promise and he kept on comforting her.

So much for Tuhfa, but as for Talha, for the three days that he had stipulated he stayed tearful and distressed, trying but failing to endure, and finding himself unable to forget her. He then went to the slave-dealer to ask what he had done with her, and the man produced a purse with the thousand dinars that was the purchase price. ‘I did my best for you on this,’ he told Talha, ‘as I owe you a favour, God bless you.’ ‘What is this?’ asked Talha, looking at the purse. ‘The price for the girl,’ said the dealer, and Talha, who had almost fainted, said: ‘Give her back to me,’ but the man said: ‘When I sold her I forgot you had made a condition.’

Talha now slapped his face, rubbed his cheeks in the dust and cried out at the top of his voice while people gathered around. He almost died and was losing his wits, but the dealer told him not to take it so hard. ‘I forgot about the condition when I sold her,’ he said, ‘and it was only afterwards that I remembered, but the buyer had gone.’ When Talha learned that Tuhfa had been sold and taken away, he realized that the condition would no longer be valid and after what had happened there was no way in which he could get her back. He fell to the ground in a faint and when he recovered he struck at his head and his cheeks.

A crowd gathered around, expressing pity for him but blaming him for what he was doing. They then turned against the slave-dealer, crowding in and turning their blame on him. He was afraid that he might find
himself in difficulties with the sultan and when an opportunity came he made off. Talha for his part kept asking where the merchant who had bought Tuhfa had gone, hoping to enlist his sympathy to get her back from her new master in pity for what he had done to himself. When he asked the slave-dealer about the merchant he was told that the man had taken her off immediately after the sale. The dealer himself was then told that this man had not bought her for himself but for a Damascene named Muhammad son of Salih, a most generous man, full of good deeds. He went back and passed on his news to Talha, who was not in his right mind and who tore his tattered clothes and poured dust on his head. He left the money with the dealer and in his grief he started to wander through the streets, sobbing and weeping. Some people pitied him, but others were scornful and kept asking him what was wrong and abusing him. This went on so long, with children following him and shouting abuse again and again, until he was taken to the hospital as a certifiable lunatic and put in chains.