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She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that in ancient times, in ages and days long past, there lived a wealthy merchant who had a son as handsome as the moon on the night of its fullness, eloquent of tongue, named Ghanim ibn Ayyub, the Love-Stricken and Despoiled. He also had a daughter named Fitna, for her beauty and loveliness were enough to lead hearts astray. Their father died and left them a great fortune. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, ceasing her permitted tale.

Then, when it was the thirty-seventh night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the merchant left his children a great fortune, including a hundred loads of silk, brocade, and fragrant musk, with the words “Bound for Baghdad” written upon them. He had intended to travel to Baghdad, but Almighty God took him unto Himself. Some time after his death, his son took these loads and set out with them for Baghdad, in the days of Harun al-Rashid. Before departing, he bade farewell to his mother, his kinsfolk, and the people of his town, then set forth, trusting in Almighty God. God granted him a safe journey, and he reached Baghdad in the company of a party of merchants. He rented a fine house, spread it with carpets and cushions, hung it with curtains, and brought his merchandise, mules, and camels into it. Then he settled down to rest, and the merchants and notables of Baghdad came to greet him. Afterward, he took a bundle containing ten lengths of precious cloth, each marked with its price, and carried it down to the merchants’ market. They greeted him with honor and welcomed him warmly, seating him in the shop of the head of the market. He sold the lengths of cloth, making two dinars’ profit on every dinar, and Ghanim rejoiced. Little by little he continued selling his fabrics and lengths of cloth, and so he passed an entire year. At the beginning of the second year, he went to the market and found its gate shut. He asked the reason and was told, “One of the merchants has died, and all the merchants have gone to walk in his funeral procession. Would you like to earn a spiritual reward by joining them?” “Yes,” he replied. He asked where the funeral was to be held, and they directed him there. He performed his ablutions and walked with the merchants until they reached the prayer ground, where they prayed over the dead man. Then all the merchants walked before the bier toward the cemetery, and Ghanim followed them until they brought it to the burial ground outside the city. They made their way among the graves until they reached the burial place, where they found that the dead man’s family had pitched a tent over the grave and brought candles and lamps. They buried the deceased, and the reciters sat down to recite the Quran over his grave. The merchants sat with them, and Ghanim ibn Ayyub, overcome by shyness, said to himself, “I cannot leave them; I must wait and go when they go.”

They sat listening to the Quran until the time of the evening prayer. Then supper and sweetmeats were brought, and they ate their fill, washed their hands, and resumed their seats. But Ghanim’s thoughts grew troubled over his merchandise, and he feared thieves. “I am a stranger here,” he said to himself, “and people suppose me to be wealthy. If I spend the night away from my house, thieves will steal the money and goods inside it.” Fearing for his possessions, he rose and slipped away from the company, asking leave as though he needed to relieve himself. He walked on, tracing the course of the road, until he reached the city gate. By then it was midnight. He found the gate shut, saw no one coming or going, and heard nothing but the barking of dogs and the howling of wolves. “There is no power and no strength save in God,” he said. “I feared for my wealth and came back for its sake, only to find the gate shut. Now I fear for my life.”

He turned back to look for somewhere to sleep until morning and found a burial enclosure surrounded by four walls, with a palm tree inside and an open gate of flint. He entered and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Trembling and dread seized him there among the graves. He rose to his feet, opened the gate, and looked out. In the distance, toward the city gate, he saw a glimmer of light. He walked a little way and saw that the light was approaching along the road that led to the enclosure where he had taken shelter. Fearing for his life, Ghanim hurried back, shut the gate, and climbed the palm tree, concealing himself among its fronds. The light drew nearer and nearer to the burial ground. Looking closely, he made out three slaves: two were carrying a chest, while the third held an axe and a lantern. As they approached the enclosure, one of the two carrying the chest said, “What is the matter, Sawab?” The other answered, “What is it, Kafur?” He said, “Were we not here at supper time, and did we not leave the gate open?” “Yes, that is quite true.” “Well, now it is shut and bolted.” The third, who carried the axe and the light and whose name was Bakhit, said to them, “What fools you both are! Do you not know that the owners of the fields come out from Baghdad and pass this way? When night overtakes them, they come in here and shut the gate for fear of black men like us seizing them and eating them.” They said to him, “You are right—and not one of us has less sense than you.” He replied, “You will not believe me until we enter the enclosure and find someone inside. And I think that if anyone is in there, he will have seen the light and fled up the palm tree.”

When Ghanim heard the slave’s words, he said to himself, “How cunning this slave is! God confound black men for their wickedness and malice!” Then he said, “There is no power and no strength save in God, the Most High, the Almighty. What will deliver me from this predicament?” The two carrying the chest said to the one with the axe, “Climb over the wall and open the gate for us, Sawab. We are weary of carrying this chest on our necks. If you open the gate, we promise you one of those we catch, and we will fry him nicely for you, without wasting a single drop of his fat.” Sawab said, “I am afraid of something that has just occurred to my feeble wits. We ought to throw the chest over the gate, for it is our store of provisions.” “If we throw it, it will break,” they replied. He said, “I fear there may be robbers inside the enclosure, men who murder people and steal their belongings. When night overtakes them, they enter places like this and divide what they have with them.” The two carrying the chest said, “You fool, how could they get in here?” Then they lifted the chest, climbed the wall, got down on the other side, and opened the gate, while the third slave, Bakhit, stood waiting with the light and a basket containing some plaster. They sat down and shut the gate. One of them said, “Brothers, we are worn out with walking, lifting and lowering the load, and opening and shutting the gate. It is midnight now, and we have no strength left to open the grave and bury the chest. Let us sit here and rest for three hours, then rise and finish our business. But to pass the night, let each of us tell how he came to be gelded and everything that happened to him, from beginning to end.” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, ceasing her permitted tale.

Then, when it was the thirty-eighth night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the three slaves said to one another, “Let each of us tell everything that happened to him.” The first, who had carried the light, said, “I will tell you my story.” And they said to him, “Speak.”