Chapter X: Book IV (2)

Hatim devoutly recommended himself to heaven and pronounced the sacred words of Khizr; and the flames ceased to issue from the mountain. Kamlak was soon informed of his foe’s approach, and how he had quenched the flames by the mere breath of his mouth. He now tried the power of his art in a different manner. On all sides of Hatim and his companions floods of water were seen to rush, as if the ocean had burst from its channels. “Help us, Hatim,” exclaimed his friends, “or we shall be drowned; these waters are the creation of Kamlak.” Hatim repeated his spell; blew with his breath on the waters, which instantly stood still, and in a short time no trace of them was left. Kamlak was highly mortified in seeing his power a second time defied, and once more he and his disciple renewed their attack. The clouds began to shower stones of five to ten tons in weight, but Hatim was prepared for this also. He and his friends sat secure under the power of the sacred spell, while the storm for three days and nights fell harmless around them. At length, when the heap of stones beside them reached the height of a mountain, so that nothing else was visible, Hatim pronounced his charm, and all was annihilated; after which, he boldly marched towards the mountain. The arch-magician then uttered an incantation, whereby the mountain entirely disappeared from Hatim’s sight: he, however, nothing daunted, sat down with his companions, who were astonished at this last feat; and having uttered his powerful spell he awaited the result. After three days the mountain again appeared, and Hatim and his friends began to ascend.

Meanwhile the attendants of Kamlak informed him that Hatim and his followers were at hand. On hearing this, the magician formed a canopy of clouds three thousand cubits above the summit of the mountain. Thither Kamlak and Sam Ahmar with their attendants transported themselves, and made every entrance fast. Hatim at length reached the summit of the mountain, where he beheld a spacious city. On entering, he found it full of food and fruits, also the most delicious wines, with everything that could excite the palate. His companions immediately began to eat; but the moment they tasted the infernal fare, they became inflated like bottles, as had previously happened at the enchanted lake. Hatim at once discovered that the arch-magician had laid this snare for him. He took a cup full of water as previously, and having pronounced the charm over it, gave it to them. As soon as they tasted of this precious draught, the effects of the enchantment ceased. Hatim then breathed over the whole of the victuals, and said to his friends, “Now you may eat your full.” Their hunger appeased, he asked them whether they knew into what part of the clouds above them the magicians had betaken themselves. They replied, that Kamlak and his disciple were in a cloud of the shape of an immense dome that towered above the rest. Hatim pronounced the sacred name, and seven times blew his breath towards the heaven, when all at once the mass of clouds with the magicians in it fell with a crash on the top of the mountain. Hatim’s enemies were so astounded by the fall, that they became an easy prey. Their limbs were disjointed, and many of them were crushed to atoms, and their polluted souls plunged to perdition. Sam Ahmar and Kamlak soon recovered their senses, and fled along the mountain. On a sudden they plunged headlong over a precipice, and resigned their souls to Iblis, the prince of darkness.

It may be easily conceived that Hatim’s joy was great at this defeat of his enemies. He devoutly bowed his head and poured out his thanks to God. This done, he addressed Sarmak, saying, “To thee, my friend, I owe a boon. I promised thee that on defeating these magicians I should bestow their kingdom on thee. This promise I am ready to fulfil, but on condition that thou wilt acknowledge no other God, save the true and Almighty Creator, and that thou wilt protect his worshippers from injury and oppression.” Having thus addressed his friend, he summoned to his presence the rest of his attendants, and said, “I here in the presence of you all appoint Sarmak your future sovereign, whom you shall obey; and you must acknowledge the true and living God, to whom you shall consider yourselves as servants, and you shall worship him night and day, for of a surety, if you act uprightly, he will reward you accordingly. Meanwhile, farewell! I must hasten to the presence of the queen of beauty, Zarinposh.”--“God be with you, brave man,” they all exclaimed, “rest assured that we shall strictly abide by your orders and never disobey the ruler whom you have appointed over us.”

Thus parted Hatim with the subjects of the late magician. Night and day he hurried onwards till he reached the enchanted lake. There he found several of the damsels whom he had formerly seen, stationed as sentinels near the place. “Whence and what are you?” cried the first of them he met. “I am,” replied he, “the same who passed several days in your society as I lately travelled this way; I even shared your penance, for my head was for some days suspended to the branches of the tree that overhangs yonder lake; I pray you, convey my most courteous greeting to the beautiful queen, your mistress.” The fair sentinel ran to her sovereign with this intelligence, saying, “Noble mistress, a young man, whose name is Hatim, stands at your gate; he once passed some days with us when under the influence of the enchantment, and now he craves admission into your royal presence.”

The queen, after some consideration, said, “Where can Hatim have been since that time? I believe, however, he has since then journeyed to the mountain of Ahmar, and most likely he will be able to furnish us with some tidings of my father; go and ask if this be the case; and if so, admit him.” The damsel made the necessary inquiry, and was thus answered by Hatim, “The magician was one who feared not God, and now his soul is consigned to perdition, and he will get the reward due to his iniquities, for he has been cut off in the midst of his crimes; but all this must be detailed in the presence of the queen.” The sentinel returned and stated to her mistress what Hatim had told her. On hearing this news, the queen was exceedingly grieved, and tears fell copiously from her eyes. Her damsels endeavored to console her, saying, “Royal mistress, to weep for the death of such a father as yours is a crime. It is certain that had not your father died, we should have still remained in the bonds of his cruel enchantment; but now let us introduce Hatim, and ask of him the circumstance.” The queen assented, and Hatim, by her request, approached the royal presence. Zarinposh, arrayed in splendid apparel, sat upon an emerald throne studded with jewels.

Hatim cast a single look at the queen; his senses abandoned him, and he fell lifeless before her. Alarmed at his apparent illness, she hastily rose, and seizing a phial of rose-water, sprinkled part of it on his face. When his senses were restored, the queen ordered for him a splendid couch set with gold and jewels, and made him sit beside her. Then in the sweetest tones he ever heard she began to converse with him on the subject of his journey and the death of her father.

Hatim detailed all that he had seen, and suffered and acted, without the least reservation; and added, “For thee, fair queen, I have undergone all these perils and toils. May I hope that my afflictions will bring forth the fruit of joy, and that you will reward my pains with the pleasure of your society, for without you I would sooner die than live.” The damsels in attendance all supported Hatim’s suit, and said, “Our gracious sovereign, this is the renowned prince of Arabia; happy for you was the day when he came here. He loves you sincerely; leave him not to despair. Think not of your father’s death, for he was a magician who delighted in cruelty and oppression. Well has it been for mankind that this brave youth has rid the world of such a monster.”

At last the queen consented, and after the usual ceremonies, she was wedded to Hatim. He, however, when on the point of giving himself up to the pleasure of her society, all at once became dejected and thoughtful. He remembered his friend Munir, the Assyrian prince; and the thoughts of the pangs he must endure so affected Hatim, that a trembling seized his whole body. His bride observed his emotion, and stood in the utmost perplexity, thinking that she was herself the occasion of it. “Alas!” said she, “what have I done in his sight that he should view me with such aversion, or what can I do to arrive at the cause of his uneasiness?” The queen, resourceless as she was, remained silent, when at length Hatim observed that she was affected by his strange conduct; he therefore resolved to explain to her the whole affair, in order to clear himself of disrespect towards her: “My soul and life,” said he, “why are you cast down? why should the sun and moon be obscured? Know, my beloved, that I have left my home for the sake of the Assyrian prince Munir, who is deeply enamoured of Husn Banu. This lady has proposed seven questions, and her hand shall be the reward of him who may solve them. The Assyrian prince in vain made the attempt, and on his failure, was wandering he knew not whither. I found him in the deserts of Arabia; and having returned with him to Shahabad, I undertook to solve the questions, and at present my friend resides in one of the caravanseraïs of that city. I have already travelled and found out the solutions of three of these enigmas, and now I am in quest of the fourth. When I saw you, however, I forgot myself and the rest of the world, and now when it has pleased God the Supreme to unite us in the bonds of love, the thoughts of my despairing friend have disturbed my soul. Yea, I have made a vow that I should perform my utmost to serve the Assyrian prince; and to me all worldly pleasures are forbidden, till he has obtained the object of his desire. It would then be highly improper that I should give myself up to enjoyment while he lives in the pangs of expectation; I must, therefore, proceed instantly to the city of Karam.”--“And what is to become of me in the meantime?” asked the bride. “I intend,” replied Hatim, “to convey you to Yemen, my native country, where my father is king.”

And so Hatim sent his bride with her attendants to his father’s dominions in Arabia, while he himself proceeded to Karam, which he reached in the course of a few days. On meeting some of the people there, he asked, “Pray, friends, can you tell me if there is a man in this place who exclaims, ‘_He who speaks the truth is always tranquil’?_”--“Truly, stranger,” said they, “there is no man here such as you inquire for; but we know of a man of extreme old age who has written above his door these very words.”--“Can you tell me,” asked Hatim, “where he lives?”--“His residence,” replied they, “is about three farasangs from this city, in a village called Old Karam, for there the city Karam once stood.”

Hatim immediately set out, and in the course of that afternoon arrived at the village of Old Karam. There he beheld a splendid mansion, on the door of which were written the words of the enigma. He went up to the gate and knocked with his hand; whereupon a voice from within reached his ear, saying, “Stranger, whence art thou, and what is thy business here?”--“I am from Shahabad,” replied Hatim, “and my business is with the owner of this mansion.” The janitor hastened to his master with this intelligence, and was ordered to admit Hatim without delay.

The master of the house, an elderly man, received Hatim with due courtesy, and hospitably entertained him with food and drink. After he had refreshed himself, his host said, “Pray tell me, stranger, what is the cause of your journey hither, and from what country are you? It has never been known that more than two foreigners have visited this place, and of these two you are one.”--“Venerable sir,” replied Hatim, “I am a native of Yemen; and I came hither from the city of Shahabad, where dwells an Assyrian prince, named Munir. This noble youth is in love with Husn Banu, the queen of that city; and he cannot acquire the object of his wish, except he procure the solution of seven questions which she has proposed. Three of these I have already answered, and now I am in quest of the fourth, which is no other than the words written above your door.”

The aged man replied, “Brave Arab! thou art truly noble; and long will thy fame survive thee in the world. Assuredly there lives not another man who would, for the sake of a friend, encounter such toils and perils as thine. But to-day thou hast come from afar, and it is fit that thou shouldst repose for the night; to-morrow I shall explain to thee the circumstances connected with the words written on my door.”--“I am willing to comply with your hospitable injunctions,” rejoined Hatim, “but there is one thing which I wish to ask of you. The people of Karam told me that your age was far beyond the ordinary limits; yet you seem to me little past the prime of life, not a hair of your head yet gray. Is it true, then, as they say, that you have lived since the time when the city of Karam stood on this spot?”--“Brave Hatim!” replied the aged man, “retire to rest for this night, and to-morrow you shall be informed of all you ask.”

Hatim accordingly betook himself to repose, and passed the night in pleasant slumbers. When morning came he arose, and after enjoying the banquet of his host, he renewed the subject of the previous evening. The aged man replied, saying, “Listen, then, Hatim: it is now seven hundred years since Karam stood here; but my age is really eight hundred years, however I may appear to you. In my youth I was a gamester, and night and day my whole business was gambling. One day it happened that my fortune forsook me, and I lost everything I possessed. Thus destitute, I sallied out as soon as it was dark, in order to rob or steal, as might be most convenient. I considered at the same time, that in attacking the poor and humble I should likely have nothing for my trouble; I resolved, therefore, to attempt the palace of our king. I softly approached the walls of the royal residence, and fastened my scaling-ladder, made of ropes, to a window. When all was quiet, I entered one of the apartments, which happened to be that in which the king’s daughter slept. The attendants of the youthful princess lay senseless outside the apartment. I seized her gold and jewels, as likewise the golden lamp that burned beside her, and unobserved made my escape from the palace. In my flight I came to a desert, where I met a gang of thieves busily occupied in the division of their spoil. The moment these saw me, they shouted, ‘Stand, traveller, tell us who thou art, and whence thou comest.’ I told the thieves the occurrences of my life, and how I had broken in upon the king’s palace, and carried off his daughter’s jewels. I then displayed to their astonished sight a very large ruby, which they no sooner saw than their avarice was whetted, and they were about to wrest it from me by force, when a tremendous sound issued from the desert, so loud that the earth trembled under us. The thieves, terrified, betook themselves to flight, while I stood riveted to the spot.

“The person from whom this voice issued approached me, and sternly said, ‘Tell me truly who thou art, and whence thou camest here.’ I told him every circumstance of my wicked life, and showed him the treasure I had so unlawfully obtained, not concealing the high-prized ruby. ‘’Tis well for thee,’ said he, ‘that thou hast told me the truth. I forgive thee thy crimes, and leave thy treasure to thine enjoyment; but swear to me solemnly that thou wilt henceforth avoid gambling.’ I then made a vow in the presence of heaven and that formidable being, that I would never gamble. ‘Well,’ said my strange monitor, ‘keep thine oath sacred, and the years of thy life shall reach nine hundred.’

“Thus we parted, and I returned to this spot, which was then a populous city, and with part of my wealth built this mansion. Some of my old acquaintances envied my prosperity, and informed the superintendent of the city that I had lately been a poor man, and now that I was possessed of immense wealth, so as to build a mansion like that of a prince: ‘assuredly,’ added they, ‘he cannot have come by such treasures honestly.’ The magistrate summoned me to his presence: to him also I detailed all that I had done, without the least reserve. When he heard my statement, he conducted me, as in duty bound, before the king, whom I had so greatly offended.

“To his Majesty, also, I told the whole truth. When the king heard me to an end, he freely forgave me my crime, and gave strict orders that none should thenceforth upbraid me on that subject. ‘This man,’ added his Highness, ‘has all along adhered to the truth, and therefore he deserves my forgiveness. I have never yet seen or heard of so daring a thief as he is, that would have the manliness to confess his guilt as he has done.’ The king not only left me in possession of what I had stolen, but also gave me gold to such amount that it is not even yet expended. On that day, as soon as I returned from the royal presence, I wrote on my door, ‘_He who speaks the truth is always at ease_,’ as an admonition to every one who might see it.”

When the man of truth had finished his history, he said to Hatim, “Now, generous Arab, you have heard my tale; and I am truly happy in having had the power thus far to serve you. Besides yourself, noble Hatim, there lives not on earth the man who would encounter the dangers and fatigues of the journey from here to Arabia.” A few days after, Hatim took leave of his aged host, and began to retrace his way to Shahabad. In the course of his journey, the thoughts of Zarinposh, his lovely bride, constantly occupied his mind. In vain did he try to think of his friend Munir, and of Husn Banu’s seven questions; he therefore resolved, ere he returned to Shahabad, to visit his bride in his paternal halls.

One day, as he arrived at the borders of Yemen, to his great joy he came to a fountain of pure water. On his nearer approach to the spring, he observed a brace of the fowls called būtīmar[b4.04]; and as he knew the languages of all creatures, he attentively listened to the following conversation of the birds: “My dear mate,” said the female butimar, “you shall not thus depart; I pray you abandon all thoughts of this undertaking.”--“Cease thy foolish prating,” returned the male; “what I am about to do is a service acceptable to the Creator, to whom all beings are responsible; and seekest thou to prevent me, merely to suit thine own whim? When did a wise man ever regard the advice of a woman? Are you not all false; and why, then, should I be guided by you? Have you not heard the story of the king, who was heartily ashamed of his folly in being misled by a woman?”

The female butimar having expressed great curiosity to hear the story of the king, the male thus began: “Once upon a time a certain king went out on a hunting excursion, and after toiling the whole day caught nothing. As it drew towards evening he lost his way, and wandering through the desert apart from his attendants, he came to a beautiful garden. He entered, and after walking about for some time he came to a palace, close to which was an artificial pond of water. The king, greatly fatigued, sat down on the brink of the pond, and as he was performing his ablutions, his hand caught hold of an iron chain. This he began to pull towards him, but found strong resistance, as if some great weight were attached to it.

“The king took hold with both his hands, and pulling with his whole force at last succeeded in bringing to land a chest to which the chain was fastened. His curiosity made him open the chest, for the key was tied to it. To his immense astonishment, on opening it, he beheld inside a woman of surpassing beauty. He stood for some minutes completely lost in admiration of her charms, without the power of moving a muscle.

“Soon the woman broke silence, saying, ‘Noble sir, be not thus bewildered, I am made of flesh and blood as you are.’ Hereupon she came out of the chest, and having taken out with her a bottle and goblet, she offered the prince a draught, which he drained to the bottom. They both sat down on the green bank, and conversed together. At length the king remembered his situation, and the anxiety which his attendants must feel on his account. He rose to take his departure. Pulling a valuable ring from his finger, he offered it to the lady, saying, ‘Accept this as a remembrance of me, for I must now take my leave of you. I hope, however, we may meet again, and on your showing me this ring I shall know her with whom I have passed the most pleasant moments of my life.’

“The lady, on hearing this declaration of the prince, laughed aloud, and drew from her bosom a whole string of rings, saying, ‘Noble sir, you must know that my husband is extremely jealous of me, and cannot even endure my residing in a place inhabited by mankind. He has, therefore, conveyed me to this solitary garden in the midst of the desert. Every night he comes and lives with me in this palace. When he departs in the morning, he shuts me up in this heavy chest, with a sufficient allowance of food and drink, and then casts chest and all into the lake where you found me. Many princes and nobles have lost their way when hunting in the neighborhood, as you have done, and on coming hither, discovered my prison. These also released me for a time from my durance, enjoyed my society, and gave me rings at their departure, of which here is ample proof. I keep the rings, indeed, by me, but their number is so great, that I really cannot recollect which is which; therefore, brave sir, I shall willingly accept and preserve your ring, but I cannot take upon me to remember the giver.’ The prince, on hearing this impudent confession, shut the woman in the chest as she requested, and having consigned her to her watery dungeon, he made the best of his way home. On his arrival at the royal residence, his attendants observed that his brow was clouded and his heart ill at ease. At length, the ministers of state ventured to approach him, and humbly represented their sorrow for his sadness, hoping that they themselves were not the cause.

[“His Majesty related the whole adventure as it had happened, and expressed the most thorough contempt for womankind in general. The prime minister, on hearing the king’s adventure, assured him that the fact was notorious throughout every city in his dominions, and that it was in vain to be disheartened for the inconstancy of women. The king at length banished the subject from his thoughts, and resumed his wonted cheerfulness and affability towards his faithful servants.”[b4.05]

Thus ended the story of the butimar; after which he said to his mate, “In like manner, I doubt not, you are as faithless to me, and why should I be guided by your advice, and prevented thereby from doing what I consider right? Do you think I am to be like Hatim Taï here, who undertook to serve Munir the Assyrian prince, and has now withdrawn his hand from his noble task, owing to the charms of a woman, such is the power of the female sex over the wisest of men?”

When Hatim heard the edifying discourse of the butimar, he felt ashamed of himself, and thanked his Creator that had thus warned him of his backsliding in due time. Instead therefore of continuing his course to Yemen as he intended, he turned aside, and took the road to Shahabad. On his arrival there, the people of Husn Banu joyfully received him; and having conducted him to the caravanseraï, they gave intelligence to their mistress of his safe return. Husn Banu invited him to her palace, and after hospitably entertaining him, she received a full account of his adventure. Hatim then returned to the caravanseraï, where he passed the night in the society of his friend the prince of Assyria. Next day he revisited Husn Banu, in order to be informed of the nature of the fifth question. The lady most courteously received him in her palace, and said to him, “Brave Hatim! the fifth task which I have to impose on you is, ‘To bring me an account of the mountain called Nida.’” Hatim then took his leave of Husn Banu; and ere his departure, he once more had an interview with the Assyrian prince, and said to him at parting, “My dear friend, be of good cheer. I am now about to proceed on my fifth expedition, which, I trust, God will render propitious; meanwhile, farewell!”]