Part 12

I heard from my mother, that when the kingdom of Iran was temporarily at rest under Barkiarok, he had a Wuzeer who was called Abou Ali, a man discreet and intelligent, who served God, was just to all men, and gave most of his wealth to the poor, insomuch that the people blessed him and loved him better than the Shah. For the Shah took their wealth and gave them nothing in return, neither security nor justice, nor defence nor good government, but on the other hand oppressed them and treated them hardly. So they stood before Abou Ali, and said: ‘O Wuzeer, verily our Shah oppresses us, and neither our possessions nor our lives are secure from him: therefore we are resolved to depose him and set you, _Inshallah_, God willing, in his place.’ Then Abou Ali rose up and shook his collar, and descending from the divan he cried out at them: ‘Oh people, what words are these? Verily ye are of little sense! Go to your homes lest this come to the ears of the Shah and he become incensed against you, and make your last state worse than the first!’ So they left him abashed, and went to their homes saying: ‘There are indeed few among us who being offered the throne would have refused it!’ But Abou Ali, when they had left him, struck hand upon hand, and said within himself: ‘In sooth it were best that I informed the Shah of that that hath happened, lest he hear of it from others.’ So he disposed of his property, and set free his slaves, and then, seeking an audience from the Shah, told him of what had occurred, nor did he conceal anything from him, and he added: ‘Verily I fear for thee, Oh Asylum of the Universe, lest they offer the throne to other than I. As for me, I am less than the least, but there are none who would not turn from thee saving myself.’ At this the Shah was perplexed, but concealing his anxiety, he praised Abou Ali for his rectitude of conduct and loaded him with presents, and so sent him away; then he turned over in his mind how he might get rid of him, for he feared him and there were none among his officers or chief people whom he might trust. Therefore he sent for the chief of his hareem, and commanded him to take with him forty of his most trusty Memlouks, and go up to the house of Abou Ali when the shades of night had obscured the light of day, and to plunder his house and seize him and convey him quickly into the desert, where they were to put him to death. ‘On my head and my eyes,’ said the chief: but he was nevertheless grieved for Abou Ali, who had shown him much kindness, and his heart was heavy within him. When evening fell, he accordingly went with forty of his most trusty Memlouks, and they knocked at the door of Abou Ali’s house and said: ‘Open in the Shah’s name!’ So he opened to them, and they plundered it and set seals on the door, and they took him and bound him and set him upon a horse, and rode forth with him into the desert. Then the chief dismissed his men, saying: ‘The Shah’s commands are for me to obey,’ and he fared on with Abou Ali until they had come to the borders of Persia, when he alighted from his horse, and unbound him, and treated him with honour, seating him beside him on his carpet, and gave him to eat, putting morsels into his mouth with his own hands. And he said to him: ‘Oh, Abou Ali, I am not of those who forget kindness done to them at the hands of others: is it not written in the sublime Koran: “We feed you for God’s sake only, we desire no recompense from you, nor any thanks; verily we dread from our Lord a dismal and calamitous day; wherefore God shall deliver them from the evil of that day, and shall cast on them brightness of countenance and joy.” Therefore, Oh Abou Ali, take this horse, together with a sufficiency of food, and go thy ways, for it is not safe for thee to be seen in the Shah’s dominions.’ So Abou Ali thanked him and fared on, not knowing whither he went, but putting his trust in God, the Protector, the All-powerful. Now he had taken with him all that he had that was great in value but little in bulk of jewels and of money, and whenever he saw a poor man, he would give him a handful, saying: ‘This is for the sake of God.’ And they would pray for him and call down blessings upon him. Thus it happened with him until he reached the country of Hind, which is a pleasant country abounding in wealth, with flowing rivers and shady trees. As he entered the city he heard a commotion, and going to see the cause, perceived that a man was chastising his slave, while the slave, who was an old man with white hair, wept and excused himself, saying: ‘Verily, I am old, and I am not able to do more than I have done.’ So Abou Ali went up to the master, and saluted him, and asked the cause of the beating and wherein his slave had offended him. To which the master replied that he was lazy and would not work. Then Abou Ali was moved with pity for him, and said: ‘Show kindness unto parents and relations, and to orphans and the poor and the traveller and the captives whom your right hand shall possess.’ And he would have ransomed him, but found that none remained to him of all the wealth and jewels that he had fled with. So he said: ‘Give this old man his freedom, and something wherewithal to live upon, and take me, who am young and vigorous, as thy slave in his place.’ At this the master was pleased, and called out: ‘Ho, neighbours, ho, true believers, I take ye to witness that this man hath sold himself to me of his own free will, and the price is ten pieces of silver and this slave.’ And they said: ‘We are your witness.’ Then Abou Ali doffed his robes, and put on the garment of a slave, and worked for this man; his lot was hard, and he had to eat many stripes, but still he repined not, for he said within himself: ‘Verily God will not wrong anyone even the weight of an ant; if it be a good action, he will double it, and will recompense it in His sight with great reward.’ Thus was his state for a great while; but it chanced that one day, as the master, according to his custom, was looking on at the work of his slaves in the garden, that he was angry with one of them and ordered him to be thrown upon the ground and beaten. Whereupon all the slaves rose against him and seized him, and treated him vilely, and would have slain him, but Abou Ali cried out at them: ‘Ho, Caffour, ho, Hassim, verily it is written, “He who forgiveth and is reconciled unto his enemy shall receive his reward from God, for He loveth not the unjust doers.”’ And again, ‘“For those who persecute the true believer, and afterwards repent not, are prepared the torments of hell.” Therefore, Oh fellow slaves, do no hurt to your master, but leave his punishment to God!’ So he persuaded them to leave him, grievously wounded, it is true, but they refrained from taking his life. Then the master departed and returned to his abode and dressed his wounds; and when he was somewhat recovered, he sent for Abou Ali, who came and stood before him in a respectful attitude, his hands concealed in his sleeves. And his master said to him, ‘Oh, Ali, I should not have escaped from those accursed slaves had it not been for thy faithfulness and fortitude, and inasmuch as thou hast risked thy life for mine, I give thee thy freedom and also the hand of my daughter, my only child, and I adopt thee for my son.’ After Abou Ali had thanked him, they made a great feast and celebrated the nuptials, the festivities lasting for three days. Then the father-in-law appointed him master over the slaves, so he looked after them, and treated them justly, and they all loved him and did his behests. In this way they abided for some time until his father-in-law had fulfilled his appointed days, and he died. Then Abou Ali sold all his possessions, and loaded his goods upon camels, and set out on his way towards Iran, for he was tired of dwelling in a country that was not his own; and he journeyed on until he came to the town of Bunpore where he found all the people assembled without the gates, who, when he came up to them, hailed him as their Sultan: for it was their custom whenever their Sultan died to assemble without their gates, and the first stranger that passed that way they would make Sultan in his place. So Abou Ali accepted the throne of Kohistan, and he lived in the town of Bunpore in the enjoyment of all felicity until he was visited by the terminator of delights and the separator of companions.

Zehneb finished her story thus, and she added that this showed how those who fulfilled the commandments of Allah attained happiness. Nevertheless, I was not convinced, for was I not compelled by love? And so I related to her the following.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

_THE STORY OF GHERIB AND BÄIDA._

One day as I was wandering in the neighbourhood of our home, pursuing the fleet gazelle with hawk and hound among the stony mountains, I suddenly came upon a cave in which I found dwelling an old Darweesh. His only garment was a camel-hair cloth, his skin was brown with dirt, and his hair and beard were long and matted. There he sat counting his beads or prostrating himself in prayer; and ever and anon he would take up a great stone and beat his breast, crying out the names of God. I went up to him and questioned him of his case, saying, ‘Oh Darweesh, verily I have hunted in these districts many years, but never yet have I met such as thou.’ ‘Oh, my son,’ he replied, ‘in truth my story is a sad one, and will serve as an example to those who would be admonished.’ He then proceeded as follows.

My name is Gherib, and I loved Baïda, the daughter of my uncle, whose name was Achmet Decab. Baïda was as the waving willow wand, like a branch pearled with dew; her face put to shame the shining sun, and her eyes were languishing, such as would steal away the soul; in short, she was endowed with the uttermost of amorous grace, and resplendent with beauty and perfection. But her father was a covetous man, and desired more for her than he could get from me, her cousin; and therefore he put off our marriage with excuses and subterfuges, although she loved me, saying that she was yet young, or that he must prepare for the marriage feast, or that some of our relations were away: in short, he said anything that he could think of in order that he might gain time, and perhaps escape from his obligation to give her to me. Now the beauty of Baïda was so great, that the fame thereof spread far and wide among the tribes, and her father had many offers of marriage for her, all of which he was obliged to decline on my account, saying that she was already betrothed. But one among her suitors, who was a rich man, and owned many flocks and herds and droves of camels, resolved nevertheless to see her in order that he might verify with his own eyes the report of her extraordinary beauty; and he therefore visited Achmet Decab, who entertained him hospitably, and he stayed with him three days, in the course of which he saw Baïda tending her flocks, and knew that report, so far from exaggerating her charms, had been unable to do her justice. Thereupon the flames of love were kindled within him, and he offered her father a large dowry, though Achmet Decab, much to his regret, was unable to accept it owing to me and to my superior claim; and he informed the suitor, whose name was Said Salem, of the case. So they consulted together, and Said offered me much wealth if I would give her up: but I replied, ‘Oh, Said, wert thou to offer to me all the riches of the Arabs, yet would I not take it save together with Baïda.’ At that he went his way, but her father was enraged at losing the riches that would have been his. After that he sought to get me out of the way that he might then demand his daughter’s dowry suddenly, for if it were not forthcoming, he might then give his daughter to whom he pleased. So he sent for me with a deceitful heart, and treated me with honour, and said: ‘Truly, my son, we have been longing for thy union with our daughter; and we did not tempt thee with riches save to prove thy love for her. Would that thy union were accomplished, nor is there ought standing in its way save thy poverty: for she is used to plenty, and is not accustomed to a hard life. Therefore it is incumbent upon thee to obtain riches. Thou art valiant and experienced: why then dost thou not make a raid upon some one of the neighbouring tribes or towns, and so remove the only obstacle between thee and her?’ ‘Upon my head and my eyes, oh my uncle!’ I replied. So I got together of our tribe of the most daring of the young men, and set forth on my expedition. As soon, however, as I had been gone some days’ march, Achmet Decab demanded his daughter’s dowry; but I had guarded against this by leaving in the hands of four of my kinsmen what was necessary, who paid it over to him before witnesses; nor could he refuse it, so that when I returned he could no longer make excuses to postpone our marriage, and he knew that I would be informed of what had taken place and return quickly. Then, so great was his rage and disappointment, that he resolved to sin against his own blood, and, calling before him his son Zalan, who was Baïda’s half-brother, commanded him to join me, and under the guise of brotherhood and friendliness to seek an opportunity to slay me secretly, so that it might appear that I had been slain by the enemy. Accordingly Zalan set out and came to me, and I welcomed him and treated him like a brother. The next day we made a descent upon the people of Mechrimeh. Spears were bathed in blood, arrows flew in clouds, sword clashed with sword, and valiant men were laid low. In the midst of the fight I chanced to turn my head and saw Zalan in the act of poising a javelin against me. I warded it off with my shield, and Zalan, seeing himself detected, with the courage of desperation seized another with the intention of again attacking me, although he knew that I was superior to him in the exercises of war: but before he could poise it, I spurred my horse upon him, and with my falchion split him in two halves, so that the one fell on the one side of his horse and the other upon the other. When the fight was over, and we had driven off the flocks and herds and had added them to those we had taken before in a secure place in the desert, I had leisure to reflect upon my case and upon the misfortune that had overtaken me. For my uncle was now become the avenger of blood, and would seek to destroy me, and I could not become the husband of Baïda. I wept when I reflected upon the perversity of my fate that was before so flourishing, but it had become necessary for me now to take some measures for my own safety, so I withdrew to another tribe, whence I wrote to Baïda giving her an account of Zalan’s treachery, deploring the adversity of fate and our separation, and begged her to give me some token that in spite of all that had happened she still loved me. I also sent her the following verses:

Beneath the palms, their gentle fronds still bending In murmuring greeting to the balmy wind, I saw thee, love, thy fleecy charges tending; Oh, that I ne’er had seen thee, or been blind! One glance you shot. Ah me, a never-ending Flame that glance kindled in my peaceful mind, And straight I loved thee with a love transcending Love ever fired in man by womankind!

My eyes that brought those flames on me endeavour To quench with tears love’s agonising pain; Alas, alas, I might weep on for ever, Without thy love recovery is vain! Ask weary Night, and she will tell thee never Through all her watches o’er the dewy plain Are my lids closed in balmy sleep, but ever Look for the rising morning star again.

O love, my love, if thou canst pity show it While yet a spark of life remains in me! If thou canst not, then let Death have me, so it Release me from my yearning misery! Grant but one grace (ah, would that I might know it Before I died, that I might gladdened be!) Forget me not--think of me sometimes, though it Remind thee also that I died for thee!

Then I sealed it, and sent it by a secret messenger, so that it should come into her hands. When she had read it, and understood its contents, she wept and fell down in a swoon, and after she had recovered she replied to me as follows:

I am content for him I love to bide All evils that sad destiny hath wrought; So let him blame who will, and who will chide.

God knows, I ne’er recall thee to my thought, My loved one, but, straight from my brimming eyes The streaming tears gush forth with which they’re fraught!

Though I my griefs conceal for fear of spies, My hollow cheeks and tears still me betray: Now thou art gone, I only breathe in sighs.

What though the sun shine! Still it is not day; There is but darkness where there should be light, While thou, my love, art elsewhere, far away!

Like a left hand, forsaken of the right, I feel now thou art gone; to whom shall I My soul unburden, thus abandoned quite?

‘Console thyself with others’ love,’ they cry; Nay, by thy life, by my love’s life, I vow I’d go through fires could I win thee thereby!

I supplicate Him, who doth part us now, That we may meet once more, in spite of foes, And in a blissful union end our woes!