1001 Arabian Nights (Season 1 : Episode 12 - The Tale of the Young Man and the Fishes)

KNOW, my Lord, that my father was the King of a city which you

see not and yet it was here. His name was Mahmud and he was

master of the Black Isles, which are now four mountains. He reigned

for seventy years before passing to the mercy of Allah, Remunerator

of the world. After his death I became Sultan and took to wife my

cousin, the daughter of my uncle, who so well loved me that if I left

her even for a short while she neither ate nor drank till my return.

For five years I cherished her until a day came when she went to the

hammam, after having ordered an alluring supper for us from the

cook. Then I entered this hall of my palace and lay down to sleep in

my accustomed place, bidding two of my girl slaves to move their

fans above me as I slept. One sat at my head and the other at my feet,

but I could not sleep for thinking of my wife and, though my eyelids

closed, my wits remained alert. Thus it was that I heard the slave at

my head say to the other at my feet: ‘How ill-starred is the youth of

our poor lord, Mas*dah. How sad it is that he should have married

our mistress, that bitch, that unclean whore.’ ‘God’s curse on all

adulteresses!’ the other replied, ‘this bastard who spends her nights in

every vagabond bed is a million fold too evil to be the wife of our

master.’ ‘And yet,’ said the first slave, ‘he must be very innocent not

to notice the woman’s goings on.’ ‘How can you say that?’ objected

the other. ‘What chance does she give him to suspect her? Why,

every night she puts something into the wine he drinks before he

sleeps. She mixes banj with the drink and he sleeps like the dead.

How then can he know what she does or where she goes? After

making him drink the drugged wine, she dresses and goes out and

stays away till morning. When she comes back, she burns a scented

something below his nose and he wakes fresh from his sleep.’

My lord, when I heard the conversation of these slaves, light

became darkness before my eyes, and yet in my impatience I thought

that night would never fall. At last, however, my wife came back

from the hamman, and, spreading the cloth, we ate for an hour, giving

each other drink as was our custom. When I asked for the final cup

which I drank every night before my sleep, and she handed it to me,

I put it to my lips, but instead of drinking spilled it secretly into the

upper fold of my robe. At once I lay down on my bed and feigned

to go to sleep. Then I heard her saying: ‘Sleep, you devil, sleep, and

never wake. As Allah lives, I hate you, yes, every inch of you, and my

soul sickens when you are near!’ After this she rose, dressed herself

in her finest garments, perfumed herself, girt on my sword and left

the palace. Instantly I rose and followed her. She crossed all the markets

of the city and, coming at last to the outer gates, spoke to them in a

tongue I did not understand and lo! the locks fell from their places,

the gates swung open of themselves and she went out beyond the

city. I followed her unnoticed till she came to certain mounds formed

by the heaping up of refuse, in the middle of which was a round

house built of dry mud and topped by a dome of the same. This

place she entered by a door, and I, climbing up into the balcony of

the dome, lay still to watch. I saw her enter below into the room of a

hideous coal-black negro, whose upper lip was like the lid of a stewpot

and his lower lip like the stew-pot itself; great pendulous lips

they were, that could have sorted pebbles from the sand of the floor.

He was rotten with diseases and lay on a heap of refuse of sugarcane.

Seeing him, my wife, the daughter of my uncle, kissed the

earth between his hands, and he, lifting up his head, addressed her

thus: ‘Curse you, why are you so late? I have had other black men

here, drinking wine and having their girls. But I had not the heart to

drink because you were not here.’ ‘Master, darling of my heart, do

you not know that I am now married to my cousin, the son of my

uncle, that I hate the least detail of his face and am filled with horror

to be near him? Ah, if it were not for fear that you would come to

harm, I should long ago have destroyed his city, from pinnacle to

base, leaving but the voices of owls and of crows to be heard in her

streets, hurling the stones of her ruin beyond the mountain of K&f!’

‘You lie, you bitch,’ the negro answered, ‘and I swear to you on the

honour and the great virility of black men, on our mighty superiority

over all whites, that if you are late once again after to-day I will

throw you aside and never lay my body above yours again. Unfaithful

whore, filth, foulest of white girls, you are only late because you

have been sating your lust with someone else.’

My lord, continued the prince, you can believe that, when I heard

with my own ears this fearful conversation and saw with my own

eyes what followed between the two, the world grew very black

before my face and I knew not where I was. Then my wife, my

cousin, wept in terrible humility before the negro, saying: ‘Lover,

fruit of my heart, there is none but you; dear boy, dear light of life,

send me not away!’ When at last he pardoned her because of her

weeping, she was filled with joy and, rising, took off all her clothes,

even to her petticoat-trousers, and stood before him quite naked.

Then she said: ‘Master, have you no refreshment for your slave?’ ‘Look

in the pot,’ answered the other, ‘you will find a stew of rat’s bones,

and there is some beer in the jerry which you may drink.’ When she

had eaten and drunken, she washed her hands, and came and lay with

the negro on the bed of trash. She was naked and cuddled against

him under the unclean rags.

When I saw this, I could contain myself no longer; jumping from

the dome, I rushed into the room and snatched the sword which my

wife was carrying, determined to kill them both. First I slashed the

negro across his neck and thought that I had killed him.

At this point Shahrazad saw the approach of morning and discreetly

fell silent. When day had come, King Shahryar entered his hall of

justice, and the d(wen sat until nightfall. Then the King returned to

his palace, and Dunyazad said to her sister: ‘I pray you go on with

your story.’ ‘With all my heart and as in duty bound,’ she answered.

And when the eighth night had come

SHE CONTINUED:

It is related, O auspicious King, that the young man who was

bewitched went on with his story in this fashion:

When I slashed the negro across his neck, I severed his windpipe,

both the skin and flesh of it, and thought that I had killed him, because

a high and terrible cry came from him. I rushed away, and my wife,

daughter of my uncle, who had been sleeping, rose, took up and

sheathed the sword and, returning to the city, stole into the palace and

lay down by me in my bed till morning. Next day I saw that she had

cut off her hair and put on mourning garments. This she explained to

me by saying: ‘Husband, son of my uncle, do not blame me for what I

have done. I have just heard that my mother is dead, that my father

has been killed in the holy war, that one of my brothers had been stung

to death by a scorpion and the other buried alive by the fall of a huge

building. It is only right that I should weep and mourn.’ Not wishing

to seem as if I had noticed anything untoward, I answered: ‘Do what

you think necessary; I shall not stop you.’ So it came about that she

stayed shut in with her tears, her insane ecstasy of grief for a whole

year. At the end of that time, she said: ‘Husband, I wish a tomb built in

your palace, in the form of a pillared dome. There I can shut myself, in

solitude and tears, and call the name of it the House of Mourning.’

‘Do what you think necessary.’ I answered. So she had her House of

Mourning built with the dome above it and a tomb as big as a water ditch

inside. To this place she had the negro carried. For he was not

dead, though very ill and feeble, and quite unable to be of any delight

to my wife. Still this did not prevent him from drinking both wine

and beer at all hours of the day. From the moment of his wound he

had not been able to speak, and now he lived on in the tomb because

his time had not yet come. Each day my wife would go in under the

dome, at dawn and twilight, and fall to raving and weeping. Also she

gave soups and strong broths to the man inside. She behaved in this

way, morning and night, for the whole of a second year, while I abode

here patiently. But one day, coming upon her unawares, I found her

weeping and striking her face and in a sad voice saying these verses:

When you passed on by my tent door

I said goodbye to all the world,

Forgetting how to love for ever more

When you passed on.

If you come back the way you went

I pray you take my body up,

And set it in a calm grave near your tent

When you come back.

If your dear voice recall the tones,

The sweetness of the way you said my name,

Kneel down, dear love, and say the same;

I’ll answer with the clicking of my bones.

When she had finished this plaint of hers, I drew my sword and

cried: ‘O you unfaithful, these are the words of a naughty passion and

not of grief! I was the more deceived.’ I raised my arm and was

about to strike, when she jumped to her feet and, understanding it

would seem for the first time that it was I who had wounded her

negro, muttered strange unknown words which must have meant:

‘By my dark power, God turn you half to stone!’ And at that moment,

my lord, I became as you see me now. I could not move about, nay,

could not stir myself an inch; but I lie here, neither dead nor alive.

After she had done this horrible thing to me, she bewitched the four

isles of my kingdom, turning them to mountains with a lake between

and all my people into fishes in the lake. But this is not all. Every day

she comes to torture me and give me a hundred lashes with a leather

thong. After she has done this she puts a shirt of hair next to my skin

under my clothes, all over the upper sentient part of me.

At this stage in his tale the young man burst into tears and moaned

these lines:

I have waited upon His justice,

I have tarried for the pleasure of my God

And the time of His coming to judgment.

Though my afflictions rise about me like trees,

I look for the deliverance of the sword of Allah

With patient eyes.

The King turned to the young man and said: ‘Your story has added a

sorrow to my sorrows. Tell me, where is this woman?’ ‘With the

negro in the tomb under the dome,’ he answered. ‘Each day she

comes to me, beating me as I have said, and I cannot stir an inch to

help myself. Then she goes back to her negro, night and morning,

with wines and broth.’ ‘As Allah lives, my brave young man,’

exclaimed the King, ‘now must I do you a service that will be

remembered, a benefit that shall pass into the books of history!’ After

talking with the prince till nightfall, the King rose and, on the striking

of the night hour of wizardry, undressed, girt on his sword, and stole

towards the negro’s tomb. In it he saw lighted candles and hanging

lamps, incense and perfumes and all unguents. Without delay he smote

the negro with his sword and, when he was dead, lifted him upon his

back and hurled his body to the bottom of a certain well which was

in the palace. Then he came back, put on the negro’s clothes, and

walked up and down below the dome, waving his great and naked

sword. After an hour, the wanton sorceress came into the young prince

her husband and, baring his body, lashed him cruelly. When he cried

out: ‘Ay, ay, enough, for pity’s sake enough!’ she answered: ‘Pity?

What pity had you for me and for my lover?’ After this she wrapped

him in a goat’s-hair shirt, replacing his other clothes on top of it, and

went to visit her negro, carrying a cup of wine and a bowl of vegetable

soup. Entering under the dome, she wept, saying: ‘Speak to me, O

my master, let me hear your voice!’ Then in deep grief she intoned

these lines:

If you desire these sweet fain limbs of mine

To comfort you like wine,

Turn not aside;

But if you lust after my misery,

My torment, and not me,

Be satisfied.

Finishing, she burst into sobs and repeated: ‘Speak to me, O my

master!’ Then the supposed negro, putting his tongue across his mouth,

so that he should sound like a black man, called out: ‘Aha, there is no

strength nor power save in Allah!’ When she heard him speak who

had so long been silent, she shouted with joy and fainted away. But

coming to herself she said: ‘Praise be, praise be, my master is himself

again!’ Then said the King in a disguised and feeble voice: ‘O curse

of mine, you have not merited a word from me!’ ‘How is that?’ she

said. And the King answered: ‘You lash your husband every day, so

that his groans and cries for help take all my sleep away from me at

night; he weeps for mercy, so that I cannot sleep. If it had not been so

I should have been cured long before this.’ ‘Since you order it,’ she

said, ‘I am willing to save him from his present state.’ ‘Do so,’ said the

King, ‘and let us have a little peace.’ Murmuring: ‘I hear, and I obey!’,

she rose and left the dome. Arrived at the great hall, she took a copper

bowl filled with water and said magic words over it. When the water

began to boil and bubble as if it had been in a fiery cauldron, she

sprinkled the prince with it, saying: ‘By these words that I have uttered,

by this spell that I have muttered, turn to what you were before!’ At

this the young man shivered and rose upright upon his feet, shouting

for joy and crying: ‘There is no other God but Allah, and Muhammad

is His prophet, whom Allah bless and keep!’ ‘Go,’ shrieked his wife

in his very face, ‘and never return, or I shall kill you!’ The young man

slipped away from the palace and his wife, going back to the dome,

called softly: ‘Rise up, my master, that I may look upon you!’ In a

very feeble voice came this answer: ‘You have done nothing yet; you

have hardly restored a twentieth of my peace, for the main cause of

my trouble still remains.’ ‘What is this main cause, my darling?’ she

asked. ‘The fish in the lake, the people of this ancient city and of the

Four Isles,’ he answered. ‘At midnight every night they lift their

heads out of the lake and pray down curses upon you and me. I

cannot get well while this goes on. Deliver them, my dear, and

afterwards come back to take me by the hand and help me rise, for

surely then I shall be whole and well.’ Thinking he was the negro,

she answered cheerfully: ‘Master, your wish is as the law of my head

and the object of my eye. Bismillah!’ Saying this, she rose and ran and

coming to the lake, took up a little of the water and…

At this point Shahrazad saw the approach of morning and discreetly

fell silent.

And when the ninth night had come

SHE SAID:

It is related, O auspicious King, that when the young witch took

up a little water out of the lake and said over it certain words, the

fishes wriggled and trembled in the water and lifted their heads and

became men again. The magic that had held them slacked off from

the bodies of the people, and their place became again a great and

flourishing city with mighty markets, and each man in it went about

his business and concern. The mountains became again the islands of

old time, and the woman ran back to the King. Still thinking him the

negro, she said: ‘Give me your generous hand, my darling, that I may

kiss it.’ ‘Come near me, then,’ answered the King, in a low voice. So

she came near and he, lifting his good sword, pierced her through the

breast so that the point came out behind her back. He struck her

again, and cut her into two halves; which done, he went out of that

place and found the young man who had been bewitched waiting

for him. He congratulated him on his deliverance, and the young

man kissed his hands and thanked him heartily. Later the King asked:

‘Do you wish to stay in your own city, or come with me to mine?’

‘King of all time,’ answered the young man, ‘do you know how far

your city is from here?’ ‘Two and a half days’ journey,’ said the King.

Then the young man laughed and said: ‘If you are sleeping, my King,

wake up. Even with Allah speeding the journey, it would take you a

year to get to your own city. If you came here in two days and a half

it was because my kingdom was contracted and bewitched. As for

your question, know that I shall never leave you again, even for the

winking of an eye.’ The King rejoiced at this and cried: ‘Praise be to

Allah who set you upon my road! Henceforth you shall be my son,

for He has not blessed me with a child of my own.’ So they fell upon

each other’s necks and rejoiced exceedingly.

Going up to the palace, the King who had been spellbound made

proclamation to the chief men of his kingdom that he was about to

set out upon the sacred pilgrimage to Mecca. When all the necessary

preparations had been made, he and the Sultan set forth, the heart of

the latter burning for his kingdom from which he had been absent

for a whole year. They journeyed with a troop of fifty Mamel*ks

charged with gifts and rarities, and halted not night or day for a

whole year, until they came in sight of the Sultan’s city. On their

approach the Wazirand all the fighting men came out to meet their

King, whom they had never thought to see again. They came near

and kissed the earth between his hands, giving him welcome. The

King went up into his palace, sat upon his throne and, calling the

Wazir to him, told him all that had happened. Hearing the strange

adventures of the young man, the Wazir congratulated him upon his

deliverance and present safety.

After he had given audience and gifts to many, the King said to

his waz(r: ‘Send quickly for the fisherman who brought the fishes

which were the cause of all these things.’ The Wazir sent and fetched

the fisherman, who had in truth delivered the inhabitants of that

other city, and the King presented him with robes of honour,

questioning him about his manner of life and asking him if he had

any children. When the fisherman answered that he had one son and

two daughters, the King straightway married one of the two daughters

himself, and the prince married the other. Their father the King kept

in his train and made treasurer-in-chief of all the kingdom. The Wazir

he appointed Sultan of the prince’s city and of the Black Islands,

sending him thither with the same fifty Mamel*ks and many robes

of honour for all the amirs of that land. The Wazir kissed his King’s

hand and departed to take over his own kingdom, while the Sultan

and the prince lived together in joy and contentment. As for the

fisherman, thanks to his position as treasurer-in-chief, he soon became

the richest man of all that century, and his daughters were the wives

of kings even till the days of their death.

But do not believe, said Shahrazad, that this tale is at all more

wonderful than the tale of the Porter.

 

Thanks for reading.