Chapter III: Part 3

Quoth Merjaneh, "It is for thee to command; I will obey." And Abrizeh said, "I would fain leave this place privily, so that none shall know of me but thou, and return to my father and mother; for when flesh stinketh, there is nought for it but its own folk, and God shall do with me as He will." "It is well, O princess," replied Merjaneh. So she made ready in secret and waited awhile, till the King went out to hunt and Sherkan betook himself to certain of the fortresses to sojourn there awhile. Then she said to Merjaneh, "I wish to set out to-night, but how shall I do? For already I feel the pangs of labour, and if I abide other four or five days, I shall be brought to bed here, and how then can I go to my country? But this is what was written on my forehead." Then she considered awhile and said, "Look us out a man who will go with us and serve us by the way, for I have no strength to bear arms." "By Allah, O my lady," replied Merjaneh, "I know none but a black slave called Ghezban, who is one of the slaves of King Omar ben Ennuman; he is a stout fellow and keeps guard at the gate of our palace. The King appointed him to attend us, and indeed we have overwhelmed him with favours. I will go out and speak with him of the matter and promise him money and tell him that, if he have a mind to tarry with us, we will marry him to whom he will. He told me before to-day that he had been a highwayman; so if he consent, we shall have our desire and come to our own country." "Call him, that I may talk with him," said the princess. So Merjaneh went out and said to the slave, "O Ghezban, God prosper thee, do thou fall in with what my lady says to thee." Then she took him by the hand and brought him to Abrizeh. He kissed the princess's hands and when she saw him, her heart took fright at him, but she said to herself, "Necessity is imperious," and to him, "O Ghezban, wilt thou help us against the perfidies of fortune and keep my secret, if I discover it to thee?" When the slave saw her, his heart was taken by storm and he fell in love with her forthright, and could not choose but answer, "O my mistress, whatsoever thou biddest me do, I will not depart from it." Quoth she, "I would have thee take me and this my maid and saddle us two camels and two of the king's horses and set on each horse a saddle-bag of stuff and somewhat of victual, and go with us to our own country; where, if thou desire to abide with us, I will marry thee to her thou shalt choose of my damsels; or if thou prefer to return to thine own country, we will send thee thither, with as much money as will content thee." When Ghezban heard this, he rejoiced greatly and replied, "O my lady, I will serve thee faithfully and will go at once and saddle the horses." Then he went away, rejoicing and saying in himself, "I shall get my will of them; and if they will not yield to me, I will kill them and take their riches." But this his intent he kept to himself and presently returned, mounted on one horse and leading other two and two camels. He brought the horses to the princess, who mounted one and made Merjaneh mount the other, albeit she was suffering from the pains of labour and could scarce possess herself for anguish. Then they set out and journeyed night and day through the passes of the mountains, till there remained but a day's journey between them and their own country, when the pangs of travail came upon Abrizeh and she could no longer sit her horse. So she said to Ghezban, "Set me down, for the pains of labour are upon me," and cried to Merjaneh, saying, "Do thou alight and sit down by me and deliver me." They both drew rein and dismounting from their horses, helped the princess to alight, and she aswoon for stress of pain. When Ghezban saw her on the ground, Satan entered into him and he drew his sabre and brandishing it in her face, said, "O my lady, vouchsafe me thy favours." With this, she turned to him and said, "It were a fine thing that I should yield to black slaves, after having I refused kings and princes!" And she was wroth with him and said, "What words are these? Out on thee! Do not talk thus in my presence and know that I will never consent to what thou sayst, though I drink the cup of death. Wait till I have cast my burden and am delivered of the after-birth, and after, if thou be able thereto, do with me as thou wilt; but, an thou leave not lewd talk at this time, I will slay myself and leave the world and be at peace from all this." And she recited the following verses:

O Ghezban, unhand me and let me go freer Sure, fortune is heavy
enough upon me.
My Lord hath forbidden me whoredom. "The fire Shall be the
transgressor's last dwelling," quoth He:
So look not on me with the eye of desire, For surely to lewdness
I may not agree;
And if thou respect not mine honour and God Nor put away filthy
behaviour from thee,
I will call with my might on the men of my tribe And draw them
ail hither from upland and lea.
Were I hewn, limb from limb, with the Yemani sword, Yet never a
lecher my visage should see
Of the freeborn and mighty; so how then should I Let a whoreson
black slave have possession of me?

When Ghezban heard this, he was exceeding angry; his eyes grew bloodshot and his face became of the colour of dust; his nostrils swelled, his lips protruded and the terrors of his aspect redoubled. And he repeated the following verses:

Abrizeh, have mercy nor leave me to sigh, Who am slain by the
glance of thy Yemani eye![FN#19]
My body is wasted, my patience at end, And my heart for thy
cruelty racked like to die.
Thy glances with sorcery ravish all hearts; My reason is distant
and passion is nigh.
Though thou drewst to thy succour the world full of troops, I'd
not stir till my purpose accomplished had I.

Thereupon Abrizeh wept sore and said to him, "Out on thee, O Ghezban! How darest thou demand this of me, O son of shame and nursling of lewdness? Dost thou think all folk are alike!" When the pestilent slave heard this, he was enraged and his eyes reddened: and he came up to her and smote her with the sword on her neck and killed her. Then he made off into the mountains, driving her horse before him with the treasure. In the agonies of death, she gave birth to a son, like the moon, and Merjaneh took him and laid him by her side, after doing him the necessary offices; and behold, the child fastened to its mother's breast, and she dead. When Merjaneh saw this, she cried out grievously and rent her clothes and cast dust on her head and buffeted her cheeks, till the blood came, saying, "Alas, my mistress! Alas, the pity of it! Thou art dead by the hand of a worthless black slave, after all thy prowess!" As she sat weeping, there arose a great cloud of dust and darkened the plain; but, after awhile, it lifted and discovered a numerous army. Now this was the army of King Herdoub, the princess Abrizeh's father, who, hearing that his daughter had fled to Baghdad, she and her maidens, and that they were with King Omar ben Ennuman, had come out with his troops to seek tidings of her from travellers who might have seen her with King Omar at Baghdad. When he had gone a day's journey from his capital, he espied three horsemen afar off and made towards them, thinking to ask whence they came and seek news of his daughter. Now these three were his daughter and Merjaneh and Ghezban; and when the latter saw the troops drawing near, he feared for himself; so he killed Abrizeh and fled. When they came up and King Herdoub saw his daughter lying dead and Merjaneh weeping over her, he threw himself from his horse and fell down in a swoon. So all his company dismounted and pitching the tents, set up a great pavilion for the King, without which stood the grandees of the kingdom. At the sight of her lord the King, Merjaneh's tears redoubled, and when he came to himself, he questioned her and she told him all that had passed, how he that had slain his daughter was a black slave, belonging to King Omar ben Ennuman, and how the latter had dealt with the princess. When King Herdoub heard this, the world grew black in his sight and he wept sore. Then he called for a litter and laying his dead daughter therein, returned to Caesarea and carried her into the palace. Then he went in to his mother Dhat ed Dewahi and said to her, "Shall the Muslims deal thus with my daughter? King Omar ben Ennuman despoiled her by force of her honour and after this, one of his black slaves slew her. By the Messiah, I will assuredly be revenged for her and clear away the stain from my honour! Else I shall kill myself with my own hand." And he wept passing sore. Quoth his mother, "It was none other than Merjaneh killed her, for she hated her in secret. But do not thou fret for taking revenge for thy daughter, for, by the virtue of the Messiah, I will not turn back from King Omar ben Ennuman, till I have slain him and his sons; and I will assuredly do a deed, passing the power of wise men and champions, of which the chroniclers shall tell in all countries and places: but needs must thou obey me in all I shall direct, for he who is firmly set on aught shall surely compass his desire." "By the virtue of the Messiah," replied he, "I will not cross thee in aught that thou shalt say!" Then said she, "Bring me a number of damsels, high-bosomed maids, and summon the wise men of the time and let them teach them philosophy and the art of conversation and making verses and the rules of behaviour before kings, and let them talk with them of all manner of science and edifying knowledge. The sages must be Muslims, that they may teach the damsels the language and traditions of the Arabs, together with the history of the Khalifs and the pedigree of the Kings of Islam; and if we persevere in this for the space of four years, we shall attain our end. So possess thy soul in patience and wait; for, as one of the Arabs says, 'It is a little thing to wait forty years for one's revenge.' When we have taught the girls these things, we shall be able to do our will with our enemy, for he is a doting lover of women and has three hundred and threescore concubines, to which are now added a hundred of the flower of thy damsels, that were with thy late daughter. So, as soon as we have made an end of their education, I will take them and set out with them." When the King heard his mother's words, he rejoiced and came up to her and kissed her head. Then he rose at once and despatched messengers and couriers to the ends of the earth, to fetch him Muslim sages. So they betook them to distant lands and brought him thence the sages and doctors whom he sought. When they were before him, he made much of them and bestowed on them dresses of honour, appointing them stipends and allowances and promising them much money, whenas they should have taught the damsels. Then he committed the latter to their charge, enjoining them to instruct them in all manner of knowledge, sacred and profane, and all polite accomplishments; and they set themselves to do his bidding.

As for King Omar ben Ennuman, when he returned from hunting, he sought the princess Abrizeh, but found her not nor could any give him news of her. This was grievous to him and he said, "How did she leave the palace, unknown of any? Had my kingdom been at stake in this, it were in a parlous case! Never again will I go a-hunting till I have sent to the gates those who shall keep good guard over them!" And he was sore vexed and heavy at heart for the loss of the princess Abrizeh. Presently, his son Sherkan returned from his journey; and he told him what had happened and how the princess had fled, whilst he was absent a-hunting, whereat he was greatly concerned. Then King Omar took to visiting his children every day and making much of them and brought them wise men and doctors, to teach them, appointing them stipends and allowances. When Sherkan saw this, he was exceeding wroth and jealous of his brother and sister, so that the signs of chagrin appeared in his face and he ceased not to languish by reason of this, till one day his father said to him, "What ails thee, that I see thee grown weak in body and pale of face?" "O my father," replied Sherkan, "every time I see thee fondle my brother and sister and make much of them, jealousy seizes on me, and I fear lest it grow on me, till I slay them and thou slay me in return. This is the reason of my weakness of body and change of colour. But now I crave of thy favour that thou give me one of thine outlying fortresses, that I may abide there the rest of my life, for as the byword says, 'It is better and fitter for me to be at a distance from my friend; for when the eye seeth not, the heart doth not grieve.'" And he bowed his head. When the King heard Sherkan's words and knew the cause of his ailment, he soothed him and said to him, "O my son, I grant thee this. I have not in my realm a greater than the fortress of Damascus, and the government of it is thine from this time." So saying, he called his secretaries of state and bade them make out Sherkan's patent of investiture to the viceroyalty of Damascus of Syria. Then he equipped Sherkan and formally invested him with the office and gave him his final instructions, enjoining him to policy and good government; and the prince took leave of his father and the grandees and officers of state and set out for his government, taking with him the Vizier Dendan. When he arrived at Damascus, the townspeople beat the drums and blew the trumpets and decorated the city and came out to meet him in great state, whilst all the notables and grandees walked in procession, each according to his rank.

Soon after Sherkan's departure, the governors of King Omar's children presented themselves before him and said to him, "O our lord, thy children's education is now complete and they are versed in all polite accomplishments and in the rules of manners and etiquette." At this the King rejoiced with an exceeding joy and conferred bountiful largesse upon the wise men, seeing Zoulmekan grown up and flourishing and skilled in horsemanship. The prince had now reached the age of fourteen and occupied himself with piety and devout exercises, loving the poor and wise men and the students of the Koran, so that all the people of Baghdad loved him, men and women. One day, the procession of the Mehmil[FN#20] of Irak passed round Baghdad, previously to the departure of the pilgrimage to the holy places[FN#21] and tomb of the Prophet.[FN#22] When Zoulmekan saw the procession, he was seized with longing to go on the pilgrimage; so he went in to his father and said to him, "I come to ask thy leave to make the pilgrimage."

But his father forbade him, saying, "Wait till next year, and I will go with thee." When Zoulmekan saw that the fulfilment of his desire was postponed, he betook himself to his sister Nuzhet ez Zeman, whom he found standing at prayer. As soon as she had made an end of her devotions, he said to her, "I am dying of desire to see the Holy House of God at Mecca and to visit the Prophet's tomb. I asked my father's leave, but he forbade me: so I mean to take somewhat of money and set out privily on the pilgrimage, without his knowledge." "I conjure thee by Allah," exclaimed she, "to take me with thee and that thou forbid me not to visit the tomb of the Prophet, whom God bless and preserve!" And he answered, "As soon as it is dark night, do thou leave this place, without telling any, and come to me." Accordingly, she waited till the middle of the night, when she donned a man's habit and went to the gate of the palace, where she found Zoulmekan with camels ready harnessed. So they mounted and riding after the caravan, mingled with the Irak pilgrims, and God decreed them a prosperous journey, so that they entered Mecca the Holy in safety, standing upon Arafat and performing the various rites of the pilgrimage. Then they paid a visit to the tomb of the Prophet (whom God bless and preserve) and thought to return with the pilgrims to their native land; but Zoulmekan said to his sister, "O my sister, it is in my mind to visit Jerusalem and the tomb of Abraham the friend of God (on whom be peace)." "I also desire to do this," replied she. So they agreed upon this, and he went out and took passage for himself and her and they made ready and set out with a company of pilgrims bound for Jerusalem. That very night she fell sick of an ague and was grievously ill, but presently recovered, after which her brother also sickened. She tended him during the journey, but the fever increased on him and he grew weaker and weaker, till they arrived at Jerusalem, where they alighted at a khan and hired a lodging there. Here they abode some time, whilst Zoulmekan's weakness increased on him, till he was wasted with sickness and became delirious. At this, his sister was greatly afflicted and exclaimed, "There is no power and no virtue but in God the Most High, the Supreme! It is He who hath decreed this." They sojourned there awhile, his sickness ever increasing and she tending him, till all their money was spent and she had not so much as a dirhem left. Then she sent a servant of the khan to the market, to sell some of her clothes, and spent the price upon her brother; and so she sold all she had, piece by piece, till she had nothing left but an old rug; whereupon she wept and exclaimed, "God is the Orderer of the past and the future!" Presently, her brother said to her, "O my sister, I feel recovery drawing near and I long for a little roast meat." "O my brother," replied she, "I am ashamed to beg; but tomorrow I will enter some rich man's house and serve him and earn somewhat for our living." Then she bethought herself awhile and said, "It is hard to me to leave thee and thou in this state, but I must perforce go." "God forbid!" rejoined he. "Thou wilt be put to shame; but there is no power and no virtue but in God!" And he wept and she wept too. Then she said, "O my brother, we are strangers and this whole year have we dwelt here; yet none hath knocked at our door. Shall we then die of hunger? I know no resource but that I go out and earn somewhat to keep us alive, till thou recover from thy sickness; when we will return to our native land." She sat weeping with him awhile, after which she rose and veiling her head with a camel-cloth, which the owner had forgotten with them, embraced her brother and went forth, weeping and knowing not whither she should go. Zoulmekan abode, awaiting her return, till the evening; but she came not, and the night passed and the morning came, but still she returned not; and so two days went by. At this he was greatly troubled and his heart fluttered for her, and hunger was sore upon him. At last he left the chamber and calling the servant of the inn, bade him carry him to the bazaar. So he carried him to the market and laid him down there; and the people of Jerusalem came round him and were moved to tears at his condition. He signed to them for somewhat to eat; so they took money from some of the merchants and bought food and fed him therewith; after which they carried him to a shop, where they laid him on a mat of palm-leaves and set a vessel of water at his head. At nightfall, they all went away, sore concerned for him, and in the middle of the night, he called to mind his sister, and his sickness redoubled on him, so that he abstained from eating and drinking and became insensible. When the people of the market saw him thus, they took thirty dirhems for him from the merchants and hiring a camel, said to the driver, "Carry this sick man to Damascus and leave him at the hospital; peradventure he may be cured and recover his health." "On my head be it!" replied he; but he said to himself, "How shall I take this sick man to Damascus, and he nigh upon death?" So he carried him away and hid with him till the night, when he threw him down on the fuel-heap in the stoke-hole of a bath and went his way. In the morning, the stoker of the bath came to his work and finding Zoulmekan cast on his back on the fuel-heap, exclaimed, "Could they find no other place in which to throw this dead man?" So saying, he gave him a push with his foot, and he moved, whereupon quoth the stoker, "This is some one who has eaten hashish and thrown himself down at hazard." Then he looked at him and saw that he had no hair on his face and was endowed with grace and comeliness; so he took pity on him and knew that he was sick and a stranger. "There is no power and no virtue but in God!" said he "I have sinned against this youth; for indeed the Prophet (whom God bless and preserve!) enjoins hospitality to strangers." Then he lifted him up and carrying him to his own house, committed him to his wife and bade her tend him. So she spread him a bed and laid a cushion under his head, then heated water and washed his hands and feet and face. Meanwhile, the stoker went to the market and buying rose-water and sherbet of sugar, sprinkled Zoulmekan's face with the one and gave him to drink of the other. Then he fetched a clean shirt and put it on him. With this, Zoulmekan scented the breeze of recovery and life returned to him; and he sat up and leant against the pillow. At this the stoker rejoiced and exclaimed, "O my God, I beseech Thee, by Thy hidden mysteries, make the salvation of this youth to be at my hands!" And he nursed him assiduously for three days, giving him to drink of sherbet of sugar and willow-flower water and rose-water and doing him all manner of service and kindness, till health began to return to his body and he opened his eyes and sat up. Presently the stoker came in and seeing him sitting up and showing signs of amendment, said to him, "How dost thou now, O my son?" "Thanks be to God," replied Zoulmekan, "I am well and like to recover, if so He please." The stoker praised the Lord of All for this and going to the market, bought ten chickens, which he carried to his wife and said to her, "Kill two of these for him every day, one in the morning and the other at nightfall." So she rose and killed a fowl, then boiling it, brought it to him and fed him with the flesh and gave him the broth to drink. When he had done eating, she brought hot water and he washed his hands and lay back upon the pillow; whereupon she covered him up and he slept till the time of afternoon-prayer. Then she killed another fowl and boiled it; after which she cut it up and bringing it to Zoulmekan, said, "Eat, O my son!" Presently, her husband entered and seeing her feeding him, sat down at his head and said to him, "How is it with thee now, O my son?" "Thanks be to God for recovery!" replied he. "May He requite thee thy goodness to me!" At this the stoker rejoiced and going out, bought sherbet of violets and rose-water and made him drink it. Now his day's earnings at the bath were five dirhems, of which he spent every day two dirhems for Zoulmekan, one for sweet waters and sherbets and another for fowls; and he ceased not to entreat him thus kindly for a whole month, till the trace of illness ceased from him and he was quite recovered whereupon the stoker and his wife rejoiced and the former said to him, "O my son, wilt thou go with me to the bath?" "Willingly," replied he. So the stoker went to the market and fetched an ass, on which he mounted Zoulmekan and supported him in the saddle, till they came to the bath Then he made him alight and sit down, whilst he repaired to the market and bought lote-leaves and lupin-meal,[FN#23] with which he returned to the bath and said to Zoulmekan, "O my son, in the name of God, enter, and I will wash thy body." So they both entered the inner room of the bath, and the stoker fell to rubbing Zoulmekan's legs and was going on to wash his body with the lote-leaves and powder, when there came to them a bathman, whom the keeper of the bath had sent to Zoulmekan, and seeing the stoker rubbing and washing the latter, said to him, "This is trespassing on the keeper's rights." "By Allah," replied the stoker, "the master overwhelms us with his favours!" Then the bathman proceeded to shave Zoulmekan's head, after which he and the stoker washed and returned to the latter's house, where he clad Zoulmekan in a shirt of fine stuff and a tunic of his own and gave him a handsome turban and girdle and wound a silken kerchief about his neck. Meanwhile the stoker's wife had killed two chickens and cooked them for him; so, as soon as Zoulmekan entered and seated himself on the couch, the stoker arose and dissolving sugar in willow-flower water, made him drink it. Then he brought the tray of food and cutting up the chickens, fed him with the meat and broth, till he was satisfied, when he washed his hands and praised God for recovery, saying to the stoker, "It is to thee, under God the Most High, that I owe my life!" "Leave this talk," replied the stoker, "and tell us the manner of thy coming to this city and whence thou art; for I see signs of gentle breeding in thy face." "Tell me first how thou camest to fall in with me," said Zoulmekan; "and after I will tell thee my story." "As for that," rejoined the stoker, "I found thee lying on the rubbish-heap, by the door of the stoke-house, as I went to my work, near the morning, and knew not who had thrown thee down there. So I carried thee home with me; and this all I have to tell." Quoth Zoulmekan, "Glory to Him who quickens the bones, though they be rotten! Indeed, O my brother, thou hast not done good to one who is unworthy, and thou shalt reap the reward of this. But where am I now?" "In the city of Jerusalem," replied the stoker; whereupon Zoulmekan called to mind his strangerhood and his separation from his sister and wept. Then he discovered his secret to the stoker and told him his story, repeating the following verses:

They heaped up passion on my soul, beyond my strength to bear,
And for their sake my heart is racked with weariness and
care.
Ah, be ye pitiful to me, O cruel that ye are, For e'en my foes do
pity me, since you away did fare!
Grudge not to grant unto mine eyes a passing glimpse of you, To
ease the longing of my soul and lighten my despair.
I begged my heart to arm itself with patience for your loss.
"Patience was never of my wont," it answered; "so forbear."

Then he redoubled his weeping, and the stoker said to him, "Weep not, but rather praise God for safety and recovery." Quoth Zoulmekan, "How far is it hence to Damascus?" "Six days' journey," answered the stoker "Wilt thou send me thither?" asked Zoulmekan. "O my lord," replied the stoker, "how can I let thee go alone, and thou a young lad and a stranger? If thou be minded to make the journey to Damascus, I will go with thee; and if my wife will listen to me and accompany me, I will take up my abode there; for it goes to my heart to part with thee." Then said he to his wife, "Wilt thou go with me to Damascus or wilt thou abide here, whilst I bring this my lord thither and return to thee? For he is bent upon, going to Damascus, and by Allah, it is hard to me to part with him, and I fear for him from the highway robbers." Quoth she, "I will go with you." And he said, "Praised be God for accord!" Then he rose and selling all his own and his wife's gear, bought a camel and hired an ass for Zoulmekan; and they set out and reached Damascus at nightfall after six days' journey. They alighted there, and the stoker went to the market and bought meat and drink. They had dwelt but five days in Damascus, when his wife sickened and after a few days' illness, was translated to the mercy of God. The stoker mourned for her with an exceeding grief, and her death was no light matter to Zoulmekan, for she had tended him assiduously and he was grown used to her. Presently, he turned to the stoker and finding him mourning, said to him, "Do not grieve, for we must all go in at this gate."[FN#24] "God requite thee with good, O my son!" replied the stoker. "Surely He will compensate us with his bounties and cause our mourning to cease. What sayst thou, O my son? Shall we walk abroad to view Damascus and cheer our spirits?" "Thy will is mine," replied Zoulmekan. So the stoker took him by the hand, and they sallied forth and walked on, till they came to the stables of the Viceroy of Damascus, where they found camels laden with chests and carpets and brocaded stuffs and saddle-horses and Bactrian camels and slaves, white and black, and folk running to and fro and a great bustle. Quoth Zoulmekan, "I wonder to whom all these camels and stuffs and servants belong!" So he asked one of the slaves, and he replied, "These are presents that the Viceroy of Damascus is sending to King Omar ben Ennuman, with the tribute of Syria." When Zoulmekan heard his father's name, his eyes filled with tears and he repeated the following verses:

Ye that are far removed from my desireful sight, Ye that within
my heart are sojourners for aye,
Your comeliness is gone and life no more for me Is sweet, nor
will the pains of longing pass away.
If God one day decree reunion of our loves, How long a tale of
woes my tongue will have to say!

Then he wept and the stoker said to him, "O my son, thou art hardly yet recovered; so take heart and do not weep, for I fear a relapse for thee." And he applied himself to comfort him and cheer him, whilst Zoulmekan sighed and bemoaned his strangerhood and separation from his sister and his family and repeated the following verses, with tears streaming from his eyes:

Provide thee for the world to come, for needs must thou be gone;
Or soon or late, for every one the lot of death is drawn.
Thy fortune in this world is but delusion and regret; Thy life in
it but vanity and empty chaff and awn.
The world, indeed, is but as 'twere a traveller's halting-place,
Who makes his camels kneel at eve and fares on with the
dawn.

And he continued to weep and lament, whilst the stoker wept too for the loss of his wife, yet ceased not to comfort Zoulmekan till the morning. When the sun rose, he said to him, "Meseems thou yearnest for thy native land?" "Even so," replied Zoulmekan, "and I may not tarry here; so I will commend thee to God's care and set out with these people and journey with them, little by little, till I come to my country." "And I with thee," said the stoker; "for I cannot bear to part with thee. I have done thee service, and I mean to complete it by tending thee on the way." At this, Zoulmekan rejoiced and said, "May God abundantly requite thee for me!" Then the stoker went out and selling the camel, bought another ass, which he brought to Zoulmekan, saying, "This is for thee to ride by the way; and when thou art weary of riding, thou canst dismount and walk." "May God bless thee and help me to requite thee!" said Zoulmekan. "Indeed, thou hast dealt with me more lovingly than one with his brother." Then the stoker provided himself with victual for the journey, and they waited till it was dark night, when they laid their provisions and baggage on the ass and set out on their journey.

To return to Nuzhet ez Zeman, when she left her brother in the khan and went out to seek service with some one, that she might earn wherewith to buy him the roast meat he longed for, she fared on, weeping and knowing not whither to go, whilst her mind was occupied with concern for her brother and with thoughts of her family and her native land. And she implored God the Most High to do away these afflictions from them and repeated the following verses:

The shadows darken and passion stirs up my sickness amain, And
longing rouses within me the old desireful pain.
The anguish of parting hath taken its sojourn in my breast, And
love and longing and sorrow have maddened heart and brain.
Passion hath made me restless and longing consumes my soul And
tears discover the secret that else concealed had lain.
I know of no way to ease me of sickness and care and woe, Nor can
my weak endeavour reknit love's severed skein.
The fire of my heart with yearnings and longing grief is fed And
for its heat, the lover to live in hell is fain.
O thou that thinkest to blame me for what betides me, enough; God
knows I suffer with patience whate'er He doth ordain.
I swear I shall ne'er find solace nor be consoled for love, The
oath of the children of passion, whose oaths are ne'er in
vain!
Bear tidings of me, I prithee, O night, to the bards of love And
that in thee I sleep not be witness yet again!

She walked on, weeping and turning right and left, as she went, till there espied her an old man who had come into the town from the desert with other five Bedouins. He took note of her and seeing that she was charming, but had nothing on her head but a piece of camel-cloth, marvelled at her beauty and said in himself, "This girl is pretty enough to dazzle the wit, but it is clear she is in poor case, and whether she be of the people of the city or a stranger, I must have her." So he followed her, little by little, till presently he came in front of her and stopping the way before her in a narrow lane, called out to her, saying, "Harkye, daughterling, art thou a freewoman or a slave?" When she heard this, she said to him, "By thy life, do not add to my troubles! "Quoth he, "God blessed me with six daughters, but five of them died and only one is left me, the youngest of them all; and I came to ask thee if thou wert of the people of this city or a stranger, that I might take thee and carry thee to her, to bear her company and divert her from mourning for her sisters, If thou hast no parents, I will use thee as one of them, and thou and she shall be as my two children." When she heard what he said, she bowed her head for bashfulness and said to herself, "Surely I may trust myself to this old man." Then she said to him, "O uncle, I am a girl of the Arabs (of Irak) and a stranger, and I have a sick brother; but I will go with thee to thy daughter on one condition; that is, that I may spend the day only with her and go to my brother at night. I am a stranger and was high in honour among my people, yet am I become cast down and abject. I came with my brother from the land of Hejaz and I fear lest he know not where I am." When the Bedouin heard this, he said to himself, "By Allah, I have gotten what I sought!" Then he turned to her and said, "There shall none be dearer to me than thou; I only wish thee to bear my daughter company by day, and thou shalt go to thy brother at nightfall. Or, if thou wilt, bring him to dwell with us." And he ceased not to give her fair words and coax her, till she trusted in him and agreed to serve him. Then he went on before her and she followed him, whilst he winked to his men to go on in advance and harness the camels and load them with food and water, ready for setting out as soon as he should come up. Now this Bedouin was a base-born wretch, a highway-robber and a brigand, a traitor to his friend and a past master in craft and roguery. He had no daughter and no son, and was but a wayfarer in Jerusalem, when, by the decree of God, he fell in with this unhappy girl. He held her in converse till they came without the city, where he joined his companions and found they had made ready the camels. So he mounted a camel, taking Nuzhet ez Zeman up behind him, and they rode on all night, making for the mountains, for fear any should see them. By this, she knew that the Bedouin's proposal was a snare and that he had tricked her; and she gave not over weeping and crying out the whole night long. A little before the dawn, they halted and the Bedouin came up to Nuzhet ez Zeman and said to her, "O wretch, what is this weeping! By Allah, an thou hold not thy peace, I will beat thee to death, city faggot that thou art!" When she heard this, she abhorred life and longed for death; so she turned to him and said, "O accursed old man, O greybeard of hell, did I trust in thee and hast thou played me false, and now thou wouldst torture me?" When he heard her words, he cried out, "O insolent wretch, dost thou dare to bandy words with me?" And he came up to her and beat her with a whip, saying, "An thou hold not thy peace, I will kill thee." So she was silent awhile, but she called to mind her brother and her former happy estate and wept in secret. Next day, she turned to the Bedouin and said to him, "How couldst thou deal thus perfidiously with me and lure me into these desert mountains, and what wilt thou do with me?" When he heard her words, he hardened his heart and said to her, "O pestilent baggage, wilt thou bandy words with me?" So saying, he took the whip and brought it down on her back, till she well-nigh fainted. Then she bowed down and kissed his feet; and he left beating her and began to revile her, saying, "By my bonnet, if I see or hear thee weeping, I will cut out thy tongue and thrust it up thy kaze, city strumpet that thou art!" So she was silent and made him no reply, for the beating irked her; but sat down, with her arms round her knees and bowing her head, fell a-musing on her case. Then she bethought her of her former ease and affluence and her present abasement, and called to mind her brother and his sickness and forlorn condition and how they were both strangers in a foreign land; whereat the tears coursed down her cheeks and she wept silently and repeated the following verses:

The tides of fate 'twixt good and ill shift ever to and fro, And
no estate of life for men endureth evermo'.
All things that to the world belong have each their destined end
And to all men a term is set, which none may overgo.
How long must I oppression bear and peril and distress! Ah, how I
loathe this life of mine, that nought but these can show!
May God not prosper them, these days, wherein I am oppressed of
Fate, these cruel days that add abjection to my woe!
My purposes are brought to nought, my loves are reft in twain By
exile's rigour, and my hopes are one and all laid low.
O ye, who pass the dwelling by, wherein my dear ones are, Bear
them the news of me and say, my tears for ever flow.

When she had finished, the Bedouin came up to her and taking compassion on her, bespoke her kindly and wiped away her tears. Then he gave her a cake of barley-bread and said to her, "I do not love to be answered, when I am angry: so henceforth give me no more of these insolent words, and I will sell thee to an honest fellow like myself, who will use thee well, even as I have done." "It is well," answered she; and when the night was long upon her and hunger gnawed her, she ate a little of the barley-cake. In the middle of the night, the Bedouin gave the signal for departure; so they loaded the camels and he mounted one of them, taking Nuzhet ez Zeman up behind him. Then they set out and journeyed, without stopping, for three days, till they reached the city of Damascus, where they alighted at the Sultan's khan, hard by the Viceroy's Gate. Now she had lost her colour and her charms were changed by grief and the fatigue of the journey, and she ceased not to weep. So the Bedouin came up to her and said, "Hark ye, city wench! By my bonnet, an thou leave not this weeping, I will sell thee to a Jew!" Then he took her by the hand and carried her to a chamber, where he left her and went to the bazaar. Here he went round to the merchants who dealt in slave-girls and began to parley with them, saying, "I have with me a slave-girl, whose brother fell ill, and I sent him to my people at Jerusalem, that they might tend him till he was cured. The separation from him was grievous to her, and since then, she does nothing but weep. Now I purpose to sell her, and I would fain have whoso is minded to buy her of me speak softly to her and say to her, 'Thy brother is with me in Jerusalem, ill;' and I will be easy with him about her price." Quoth one of the merchants, "How old is she?" "She is a virgin, just come to the age of puberty," replied the Bedouin, "and is endowed with sense and breeding and wit and beauty and grace. But from the day I sent her brother to Jerusalem, she has done nothing but grieve for him, so that her beauty is fallen away and her value lessened." When the merchant heard this, he said, "O chief of the Arabs, I will go with thee and buy this girl of thee, if she be as thou sayest for wit and beauty and accomplishments; but it must be upon conditions, which if thou accept, I will pay thee her price, and if not, I will return her to thee." "If thou wilt," said the Bedouin, "take her up to Prince Sherkan, son of King Omar ben Ennuman, lord of Baghdad and of the land of Khorassan, and I will agree to whatever conditions thou mayst impose on me; for when he sees her, she will surely please him, and he will pay thee her price and a good profit to boot for thyself." "It happens," rejoined the merchant, "that I have just now occasion to go to him, that I may get him to sign me patent, exempting me from customs-dues, and I desire of him also a letter of recommendation to his father King Omar. So, if he take the girl, I will pay thee down her price at once." "I agree to this," answered the Bedouin. So they returned together to the khan, where the Bedouin stood at the door of the girl's chamber and called out, saying, "Ho, Najiyeh!" which was the name he had given her. When she heard him, she wept and made no answer. Then he turned to the merchant and said to him, "There she sits. Do thou go up to her and look at her and speak kindly to her, as I enjoined thee." So he went up to her courteously and saw that she was wonder-lovely and graceful especially as she was acquainted with the Arabic tongue; and he said to the Bedouin, "Verily she is even as thou saidst, and I shall get of the Sultan what I will for her." Then he said to her, "Peace be on thee, O daughterling! How dost thou?" She turned to him and replied, "This was written in the book of Destiny." Then she looked at him and seeing him to be a man of reverend appearance, with a handsome face, said to herself, "I believe this man comes to buy me. If I hold aloof from him, I shall abide with this tyrant, and he will beat me to death. In any case, this man is comely of face and makes me hope for better treatment from him than from this brute of a Bedouin. Mayhap he only comes to hear me talk; so I will give him a fair answer." All this while, she had kept her eyes fixed on the ground; then she raised them to him and said in a sweet voice, "And upon thee be peace, O my lord, and the mercy of God and His blessing! This is what is commanded of the Prophet, whom God bless and preserve! As for thine enquiry how I do, if thou wouldst know my condition, it is such as thou wouldst not wish but to thine enemies." And she was silent. When the merchant heard what she said, he was beside himself for delight in her and turning to the Bedouin, said to him, "What is her price, for indeed she is illustrious!" At this the Bedouin was angry and said, "Thou wilt turn me the girl's head with this talk! Why dost thou say that she is illustrious,[FN#25] for all she is of the scum of slave-girls and of the refuse of the people? I will not sell her to thee." When the merchant heard this, he knew he was dull-witted and said to him, "Calm thyself, for I will buy her of thee, notwithstanding the defects thou mentionest." "And how much wilt thou give me for her?" asked the Bedouin "None should name the child but its father," replied the merchant. "Name thy price for her." "Not so," rejoined the Bedouin; "do thou say what thou wilt give." Quoth the merchant in himself, "This Bedouin is an addle-pated churl. By Allah, I cannot tell her price, for she has mastered my heart with her sweet speech and her beauty: and if she can read and write, it will be the finishing touch to her good fortune and that of her purchaser. But this Bedouin does not know her value." Then he turned to the latter and said to him, "O elder of the Arabs, I will give thee two hundred dinars for her, in cash, clear of the tax and the Sultan's dues." When the Bedouin heard this, he flew into a violent passion and cried out at the merchant, saying, "Begone about thy business! By Allah, wert thou to offer me two hundred dinars for the piece of camel-cloth on her head, I would not sell it to thee! I will not sell her, but will keep her by me, to pasture the camels and grind corn." And he cried out to her, saying, "Come, thou stinkard, I will not sell thee." Then he turned to the merchant and said to him, "I thought thee a man of judgment; but, by my bonnet, if thou begone not from me, I will let thee hear what will not please thee!" "Verily," said the merchant to himself, "this Bedouin is mad and knows not the girl's value, and I will say no more to him about her price for the present; for by Allah, were he a man of sense, he would not say, 'By my bonnet!' By Allah, she is worth the kingdom of the Chosroes and I will give him what he will, though it be all I have." Then he said to him, "O elder of the Arabs, calm thyself and take patience and tell me what clothes she has with thee." "Clothes!" cried the Bedouin; "what should the baggage want with clothes? The camel-cloth in which she is wrapped is ample for her." "With thy leave," said the merchant, "I will lift her veil and examine her as folk examine girls whom they think of buying." "Up and do what thou wilt," replied the other, "and God keep thy youth! Examine her, inside and out, and if thou wilt, take off her clothes and look at her naked." "God forbid!" said the merchant; "I will but look at her face." Then he went up to her, confounded at her beauty and grace, and seating himself by her side, said to her, "O my mistress, what is thy name?" "Dost thou ask what is my name now," said she, "or what it was formerly?" "Hast thou then two names?" asked the merchant. "Yes," replied she, "my whilom name was Nuzhet ez Zeman;[FN#26] but my name at this present is Ghusset ez Zeman."[FN#27] When the merchant heard this, his eyes filled with tears, and he said to her, "Hast thou not a sick brother?" "Indeed, my lord, I have," answered she; "but fortune hath parted us, and he lies sick in Jerusalem." The merchant's heart was confounded at the sweetness of her speech, and he said to himself, "Verily, the Bedouin spoke the truth of her." Then she called to mind her brother and how he lay sick in a strange land, whilst she was parted from him and knew not what was become of him; and she thought of all that had befallen her with the Bedouin and of her severance from her father and mother and native land; and the tears ran down her cheeks and she repeated the following verses: