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Yet this is no more wondrous than the tale of Umar al-Numan and his sons Sharkan and Daw al-Makan, and the marvels and strange adventures that befell them. “And what is their tale?” asked the king. She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that in the city of Damascus, before the caliphate of Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan, there lived a king named Umar al-Numan. He was one of the mightiest sovereigns, having subdued the kings of Persia and the Caesars. None could withstand the fire of his wrath or rival him in any contest, and when he grew angry, flames seemed to issue from his nostrils. He ruled every land, and his authority prevailed throughout the villages and cities. God had made all peoples obedient to him, and his armies had reached the farthest countries. His dominions embraced the East and the West, and all that lay between them: India, Sind, and China; Yemen, the Hijaz, Abyssinia, and the Sudan; Syria, the lands of the Byzantines, Diyar Bakr, and the islands of the seas, together with the earth’s renowned rivers, such as the Sayhun, the Jayhun, the Nile, and the Euphrates. He sent his emissaries to the farthest inhabited regions to bring him true reports, and they returned to tell him that all peoples acknowledged his authority and every mighty ruler bowed before his majesty. He lavished bounty and favor upon them, spreading justice and security among them, for he was a sovereign of great renown. Gifts were brought to him from every quarter, and tribute flowed to him from the length and breadth of the earth.

He had a son whom he had named Sharkan, for he had grown into one of the scourges of the age, vanquishing champions and destroying his rivals. His father loved him beyond measure and appointed him heir to the throne. When Sharkan attained manhood and reached the age of twenty, God made all men submit to him, so fierce was his courage and so unyielding his resolve. His father, Umar al-Numan, had four wives, married according to the Book and the Sunna, but none had borne him a child except Sharkan, who was the son of one of them; the others were barren. Besides these wives, he had three hundred and sixty concubines, one for each day of the Coptic year, drawn from every nation. For each he had built a private apartment within his palaces. He had twelve palaces, corresponding to the months of the year, and in each palace thirty apartments, making three hundred and sixty in all. In these he housed the women, assigning each a night on which he would sleep with her, so that he did not return to her until a full year had passed. He continued in this manner for some time. Meanwhile, his son Sharkan’s fame spread to every horizon, and his father rejoiced in him and grew stronger still, becoming ever more overbearing and mighty, conquering fortresses and lands. Then, as fate ordained, one of Umar al-Numan’s concubines conceived, and her pregnancy became known. When the king heard of it, he rejoiced exceedingly and said, “Perhaps all my offspring and descendants will be sons.” He recorded the date of her conception and began to show her special kindness. But when Sharkan learned of it, he was distressed and deeply troubled. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the forty-fifth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that when Sharkan learned that his father’s concubine was pregnant, he was distressed and deeply troubled. “Here comes someone to dispute the kingdom with me,” he said. And he resolved within himself, “If this concubine bears a boy, I shall kill him.” But he kept his purpose secret.

Such was the case with Sharkan. As for the concubine, she was a Byzantine woman whom the Byzantine king, lord of Caesarea, had sent as a gift to Umar al-Numan, together with many precious rarities. Her name was Safiyya. She was the fairest of women, the loveliest in face, and the most virtuous, endowed with ample understanding and dazzling beauty. On the night the king spent with her, she would attend him and say, “O king, I have long wished that the God of Heaven would grant you a son by me, so that I might rear him well for you and spare no effort in his education and protection.” The king would rejoice and delight in her words. Thus she continued until her months were fulfilled and she sat upon the birthing chair. She was a pious woman, devout in worship, and she prayed to God to grant her a righteous child and make her delivery easy. God accepted her prayer. The king had appointed a servant to attend her and report whether she bore a boy or a girl, and his son Sharkan had likewise sent someone to bring him word. When Safiyya delivered her child, the midwives examined it and found it to be a girl whose face was brighter than the moon. They told those present, and the king’s messenger returned and informed him. Sharkan’s messenger also brought him the news, and he rejoiced exceedingly.

When the servants had gone, Safiyya said to the midwives, “Wait a little, for I feel there is something else within me.” Then she groaned, and labor seized her a second time. God eased her travail, and she delivered another child. The midwives looked and found a boy like the full moon, with a radiant brow and rosy cheeks. The mother, the servants, the attendants, and everyone present rejoiced. Safiyya expelled the afterbirth, and cries of celebration rang through the palace. When the other concubines heard, they envied her. The news reached Umar al-Numan, who was filled with joy and gladness. He rose and went in to her, kissed her head, then looked at the newborn child, bent over him, and kissed him. The women beat tambourines and played musical instruments. The king commanded that the boy be named Daw al-Makan and his sister Nuzhat al-Zaman. They obeyed his command, answering, “We hear and obey.” He assigned wet nurses, servants, attendants, and nursemaids to care for them, and provided regular allowances of sugar, drinks, oils, and other things beyond the tongue’s power to describe. When the people of Damascus heard of the children God had granted the king, the city was adorned and gave itself over to joy and celebration. The emirs, viziers, and officers of state came to congratulate King Umar al-Numan on his son Daw al-Makan and his daughter Nuzhat al-Zaman. The king thanked them, bestowed robes of honor upon them, and increased his gifts and favors. He treated all who attended, high and low alike, with generosity. Thus matters continued for four years, during which he inquired after Safiyya and her children every few days. At the end of the four years, he ordered a great quantity of gold ornaments, jewels, robes, and money to be sent to her, and charged her to raise the children well and see to their education.

All this while, the king’s son Sharkan knew nothing of the boy born to his father, Umar al-Numan. He knew only of Nuzhat al-Zaman. They concealed Daw al-Makan’s existence from him, and days and years passed while he was occupied in battling champions and jousting with knights. One day, as Umar al-Numan sat upon his throne, the chamberlains entered, kissed the ground before him, and said, “O king, envoys have arrived from the Byzantine king, lord of great Constantinople. They wish to enter your presence and stand before you. If the king grants permission, we shall admit them; otherwise, his command is beyond question.” He gave them leave to enter. When they appeared, he received them graciously, asked after their welfare, and inquired why they had come. They kissed the ground before him and said, “O glorious king, whose power reaches far, know that we have been sent to you by King Afridun, ruler of the Greek lands and the Christian armies, who dwells in the kingdom of Constantinople. He wishes you to know that he is now engaged in a bitter war with a stubborn tyrant, the lord of Caesarea. The cause is this: one of the Arab kings happened, during a conquest, to discover an ancient treasure dating from the time of Alexander. He took from it riches beyond counting. Among the things he found were three round gems the size of ostrich eggs, made of the costliest pure white jewels, without equal anywhere. Each was engraved in Greek letters with secret lore, and they possessed many virtues and special properties. Among these was this: any newborn child upon whom one of the gems was hung would suffer no pain so long as it remained upon him, nor would he be afflicted with fever or burning heat.

“When the king had secured them and learned their secrets, he sent King Afridun gifts of precious rarities and wealth, including the three gems. He fitted out two ships, one carrying the treasure and the other men to protect the gifts from anyone who might attack them at sea. As king of the Arabs, he was confident that no one would dare molest his ships, especially since the vessels bearing the gifts would pass through waters belonging to the king of Constantinople, to whom they were bound, and all who dwelt along those shores were his subjects. Once the two ships were ready, they sailed until they neared our country. Then a band of robbers from those lands attacked them, among whom were soldiers of the lord of Caesarea. They seized everything aboard both ships—the precious rarities, the money, the treasures, and the three gems—and killed the men. When our king heard of this, he sent an army against them, but they defeated it. He sent a stronger army, and they defeated that as well. At this the king grew furious and swore that he would march against them in person with his entire host, and would not return until he had destroyed Caesarea and laid waste its territory and every land under its ruler’s authority. What we ask of the mighty and sovereign King Umar al-Numan is that he reinforce us with troops of his own, so that the glory may be his. Our king has sent you various gifts in our keeping, and hopes that in your bounty you will accept them and graciously grant him aid.” Then the envoys kissed the ground before King Umar al-Numan. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the forty-sixth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that after the envoys of the king of Constantinople had told their story, they kissed the ground before King Umar al-Numan and informed him of the gifts. These consisted of fifty slave girls of the choicest in the Byzantine lands and fifty mamluks wearing brocade coats with belts of gold and silver. In the ear of every mamluk was a gold ring set with a pearl worth a thousand mithqals of gold, and the girls were adorned in the same fashion. Their garments were worth an immense sum. When the king saw them, he accepted them with delight and ordered that the envoys be treated with honor. Then he turned to his viziers and consulted them on what should be done. An aged vizier named Dandan rose from among them, kissed the ground before King Umar al-Numan, and said, “O king, nothing could be better than to equip a mighty army and place your son Sharkan in command, with us as servants before him. This course is best for two reasons. First, the Byzantine king has sought your protection and sent you a gift, which you have accepted. Second, the enemy will no longer dare threaten our lands. If your army defends the Byzantine king and defeats his enemy, the achievement will be credited to you, and the news will spread throughout every country and region. Above all, when word reaches the islands of the sea and the people of the West hear of it, they will send you gifts, rarities, and riches.”

When the king heard these words from his vizier Dandan, he was pleased, approved his counsel, and bestowed a robe of honor upon him. “It is men such as you whom kings should consult,” he said. “You shall lead the vanguard, and my son Sharkan shall command the rear.” Then he ordered his son to be summoned. When Sharkan appeared, the king related the whole affair, telling him what the envoys had said and what the vizier Dandan had advised. He charged him to make ready for the journey and not to oppose the counsel of Dandan. He ordered him to select ten thousand horsemen from his army, fully armed and able to endure hardship. Sharkan obeyed his father Umar al-Numan. He rose at once and chose ten thousand horsemen, then entered his palace, brought out a great sum of money, and distributed it among them. “I give you three days to prepare,” he said. They kissed the ground before him in obedience, then withdrew and began making ready and putting their affairs in order. Sharkan entered the armories and took all the equipment and weapons he needed. Then he went to the stables, selected fine, well-bred horses, and took whatever else was required. After three days, the troops marched beyond the city, and Umar al-Numan came out to bid his son farewell. Sharkan kissed the ground before him, and the king presented him with seven treasuries of wealth. He turned to the vizier Dandan and charged him to care for his son Sharkan’s army. Dandan kissed the ground before him and answered, “I hear and obey.” Then the king turned to Sharkan and enjoined him to consult Dandan in every matter. Sharkan agreed, and his father returned to the city. Sharkan then ordered the senior officers to muster the troops before him. They numbered ten thousand horsemen, besides those who followed in their train.

Then the company set out. Drums thundered, trumpets sounded, and banners and standards were unfurled. The king’s son Sharkan rode with his vizier Dandan at his side and the banners fluttering above their heads. They continued on their way, with the envoys leading them, until day departed and night drew near. Then they halted, rested, and spent the night. At dawn they mounted and resumed their march. For twenty days they traveled, guided by the envoys, and on the twenty-first they came in sight of a broad valley rich in trees and vegetation. They reached it at night, and Sharkan ordered them to encamp there for three days. The troops dismounted and pitched their tents, spreading out to right and left, while the vizier Dandan and the envoys of Afridun, lord of Constantinople, camped in the middle of the valley.

As for King Sharkan, when the army arrived he remained behind for a while, until all had dismounted and dispersed throughout the valley. Then he loosened his horse’s reins, intending to explore the valley and keep watch in person, mindful of his father’s counsel, for they were now on the edge of Byzantine territory, in enemy country. He rode out alone, having ordered his mamluks and personal attendants to lodge with the vizier Dandan. He continued riding about the valley until a quarter of the night had passed. Then he grew weary, and sleep overcame him, so that he could no longer urge his horse onward. He was accustomed to sleeping in the saddle, and when drowsiness overpowered him, he slept while the horse carried him onward until midnight. It took him into a wood thick with trees. Sharkan did not wake until his horse struck the ground with its hoof. Then he opened his eyes and found himself among the trees, with the moon risen above him and shedding its light from horizon to horizon. Astonished to find himself there, he uttered words no man need be ashamed to say: “There is no power and no strength save in God.” As he stood bewildered, afraid of wild beasts and uncertain which way to turn, he saw the moon shining upon a meadow like one of the meadows of Paradise. He heard pleasant speech, a ringing voice, and laughter that could steal men’s wits. King Sharkan dismounted among the trees and walked on until he came in sight of a river and saw its flowing waters. He heard a woman speaking Arabic: “By the truth of Christ, this is no pleasant place! But whichever of you utters a word, I shall throw her down and bind her arms with her own girdle.” All the while, Sharkan was moving toward the voice, until he reached the edge of the clearing. There he saw a flowing river, birds at play, gazelles passing to and fro, and wild creatures grazing, while birds in their several tongues gave voice to happiness. The place was embroidered with every kind of greenery, as these two verses say of such a scene:

Earth wears her beauty only when in bloom, with water flowing freely over her: the handiwork of God, supreme in might, who grants all gifts and gives to those who give. Sharkan looked about and saw a monastery, and within its precincts a lofty castle rising into the moonlit air. Through its midst ran a stream whose waters flowed out into those gardens. There stood a woman with ten maidens before her, each like a moon, arrayed in jewels and robes that dazzled the eyes. All were virgins of exquisite beauty, of whom these verses might have been spoken:

The meadow shines with all it holds of fair and stately maids; its loveliness grows lovelier through their wondrous charms. Each slender-waisted beauty is all coquetry and grace, her loosened tresses hanging like the clusters of the vine. Enchantresses whose eyes let fly their arrows at the heart, they sway and slay the mightiest champions among men. Sharkan gazed at the ten maidens and saw among them a young woman like the moon at its fullest, with finely arched brows, a radiant forehead, long-lashed eyes, and a curling lock at her temple. Perfect in form and qualities, she was as the poet described in these verses:

She glories over me with wondrous glances; her figure puts the slender spears to shame. She comes in view, her cheeks the roses of the field, and every lovely grace is gathered in her. Her dark forelock against her shining face is night appearing over a dawn of joy. Sharkan heard her say to the maidens, “Come forward, so that I may wrestle with you before the moon sets and morning comes.” Each advanced in turn, and she threw her down at once and bound her arms with her girdle. She went on wrestling them and throwing them until she had overcome them all. Then an old serving woman who stood before her turned to her and said, as though angry with her, “You shameless girl! Are you pleased with yourself for throwing these maids? Old as I am, I have thrown them forty times, so why should you be so proud? If you have the strength to wrestle me, then do so. If you wish to try and stand up against me, I shall rise to meet you and put your head between your feet.” The young woman smiled outwardly, though inwardly she was filled with anger. She rose and said, “My lady Dhat al-Dawahi, by the truth of Christ, do you mean to wrestle me in earnest, or are you joking?” “In earnest,” the old woman replied. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the forty-seventh night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that when the young woman asked Dhat al-Dawahi, “By the truth of Christ, do you mean to wrestle me in earnest?” she replied, “In earnest.” “Then rise to wrestle,” said the girl, “if you have the strength.” When the old woman heard this, she became so furious that the hair on her body bristled like a hedgehog’s spines. The girl rose to face her, and the old woman said, “By the truth of Christ, I shall wrestle you only naked, you shameless girl!” Then she loosened her clothing, took a silk kerchief, slipped her hands beneath her garments, and stripped them from her body. She gathered up the kerchief and tied it about her waist, looking like a monstrous she-demon or a speckled snake. Then she bent toward the girl and said, “Do as I have done.” Sharkan watched them all the while, studying the old woman’s hideous figure and laughing. When she had finished, the young woman rose slowly, took a Yemeni cloth, and folded it twice. She hitched up her trousers, revealing two marble legs, above them a smooth, rounded dune of crystal, and a belly whose folds breathed musk, as though overlaid with anemones, and a breast bearing two firm pomegranates. The old woman bent toward her, and they grappled. Sharkan lifted his head to heaven and prayed that the young woman might defeat the old one. The girl slipped beneath the old woman, set her left hand against her flank and her right about her neck and throat, and lifted her in both hands. The old woman wriggled out of her grasp, trying to escape, but fell upon her back with her legs flying upward and her pubic hair exposed in the moonlight. Then she let out two farts, one that raised the dust of the earth and another that sent smoke into the sky. Sharkan laughed so hard that he fell to the ground. Then he rose, drew his sword, and looked to right and left, but saw no one except the old woman sprawled on her back. “Whoever named you Dhat al-Dawahi—the Mistress of Calamities—spoke no lie,” he said to himself.

Then he drew nearer to hear what passed between them. The young woman came forward, cast a fine silk sheet over the old woman, dressed her in her clothes, and apologized. “My lady Dhat al-Dawahi,” she said, “I meant only to throw you, not to cause all that befell you. But you slipped from my hands. Praise be to God that you are safe!” The old woman made no reply. Ashamed, she rose and walked away until she disappeared from sight. The maidens remained bound where they had been thrown, and the young woman stood alone. Sharkan said to himself, “Every good fortune has its cause. Sleep overcame me and my horse brought me here only because luck was on my side. Perhaps this girl and all she has with her will be my spoil.” He mounted his horse and spurred it, and it shot forward like an arrow from a bow. With his sword drawn in his hand, he shouted, “God is most great!” When the young woman saw him, she sprang upright, set her feet on the riverbank, and leaped across the water, which was six cubits wide. Landing on the opposite bank, she stood and called in a loud voice, “Who are you, fellow? You have interrupted our pleasure, and with your sword drawn you look as though you were charging an army! Where are you from, and where are you going? Speak truthfully, for truth will serve you better. Do not lie, for lying is the habit of the base. No doubt you lost your way tonight and came to this place, where escaping alive will be the greatest prize you can gain. Know that you are in a meadow where, if we gave a single cry, four thousand patricians would come to our aid. Tell us what you want. If you wish us to show you the road, we shall guide you; if you wish for assistance, we shall provide it.”

When Sharkan heard her words, he said, “I am a stranger, a Muslim. Tonight I rode out alone in search of booty, and on this moonlit night I have found no better prize than these ten maidens. I shall take them and return with them to my companions.” The young woman replied, “Know that you have not yet won your booty, and by God, these maidens are not yours to take. Did I not tell you that lying is shameful?” He said, “Is not the fortunate man he who is content with God and needs no other?” She answered, “By the truth of Christ, were I not afraid that your death would be upon my hands, I would give a cry that would fill the earth around you with horsemen and soldiers. But I have compassion for strangers. If you wish for booty, I ask you to dismount and swear by your faith that you will not approach me with any weapon. Then you and I shall wrestle. If you throw me, set me upon your horse and take us all as spoil; but if I throw you, you shall be at my mercy. Swear to me, for I fear your treachery. It is said in the old accounts: ‘When treachery is a man’s nature, to trust everyone is folly.’ If you swear, I shall cross over and come to you.” Sharkan grew eager to possess her and said to himself, “She knows that I am a champion among champions.” Then he called to her, “Make me swear whatever oath you will trust, that I shall not approach you in any way until you have made ready and say, ‘Come near, and let us wrestle.’ Only then will I approach you. If you throw me, I have wealth enough to ransom myself; and if I throw you, that will be the greatest prize of all.” “I agree,” said the girl.

Sharkan marveled at this and said, “By the truth of the Prophet, God bless him and grant him peace, I too agree.” She said, “Swear now by Him who placed souls in bodies and ordained the laws of our faiths.” He swore the oaths she required, and she was satisfied. Then she leaped back across the river and said to Sharkan, laughing, “It grieves me to part with you, my lord! Go back to your companions before morning, lest the patricians come and carry you off on their spearheads. You have not the strength to withstand women; how will you stand against mounted warriors?” Sharkan was bewildered. As she turned away toward the monastery, he called, “My lady, will you go and leave a poor, lovesick stranger, brokenhearted?” She turned to him, laughing, and said, “What do you wish? I shall grant your request.” He replied, “How can I set foot upon your land, enjoy the sweetness of your kindness, and return without tasting your food, now that I have become one of your servants?” “None but a churl refuses hospitality,” she said. “You are most welcome, in God’s name, and I shall receive you with all honor. Mount your horse and follow the riverbank opposite me, for you are my guest.”

Sharkan rejoiced, hastened to his horse, and mounted. He rode along facing her as she walked on the opposite bank, until he reached a bridge built of poplar wood, with pulleys and chains of steel secured by locks and hooks. Sharkan looked at the bridge and saw the maidens who had wrestled with her standing there, watching for her. When she reached them, she spoke to one in Greek, saying, “Go to him, take his horse’s reins, and lead him to the monastery.” Sharkan followed the maid across the bridge, his mind astonished by all he saw. “Would that the vizier Dandan were here with me,” he said to himself, “and that his eyes could behold these lovely maidens!” Then he turned to the young woman and said, “O wondrous beauty, I now have two claims upon your protection: that of companionship, and that of coming to your home and accepting your hospitality. I am under your authority and in your keeping. If only you would graciously journey to the lands of Islam, see every fierce lion of a warrior there, and learn who I am!” When she heard his words, she grew angry and said, “By the truth of Christ, I had thought you a man of sense and judgment, but now I see the wickedness in your heart. How can you utter words that expose you as a deceiver? How could I do such a thing, knowing that once I came into the hands of your king, Umar al-Numan, I should never escape him, being a woman such as I am? Even though he is lord of Baghdad and Khurasan and has built himself twelve palaces, one for each month of the year, with three hundred and sixty girls in every palace, one for each day, still, if I came into his hands, he would be overwhelmed by desire for me. For you believe you are permitted to take your pleasure with women such as me, as it says in your scriptures: ‘Or those whom your right hands possess.’ How, then, can you speak to me in this way?

“As for your saying that I should see the brave men of the Muslims, by the truth of Christ, you have spoken falsely. I saw your army when you entered our country these last two days. When you came, I saw no sign that you had been trained as kings are trained; I saw only bands of men gathered together.

“And as for your saying that I should learn who you are, I do not show you kindness out of reverence for your rank, but for the honor of doing so. A man such as you should not speak thus to a woman such as me, even if you were Sharkan, son of King Umar al-Numan, whose fame has risen in these days.” Sharkan said to himself, “Perhaps she knows that the army has arrived, that it numbers ten thousand horsemen, and that my father sent them with me to aid the king of Constantinople.” Then he said, “My lady, I adjure you by Him in whom your faith teaches you to believe, tell me the reason for this, so that I may distinguish truth from falsehood and know upon whom the blame should fall.” She replied, “By the truth of my faith, were I not afraid that word of me would spread, since I am one of the daughters of the Byzantines, I would risk my life and challenge the ten thousand horsemen. I would kill their commander, the vizier Dandan, and overcome their champion Sharkan, and there would be no dishonor in that for me. But I have read books and learned refinement from the writings of the Arabs. I shall not boast to you of my courage, though you have seen proof of my skill, my strength in wrestling, and my prowess. Had Sharkan stood in your place tonight and been told, ‘Leap this river,’ he would have yielded and confessed his inability. I pray to Christ that He may cast him into my hands in this monastery, so that I may go out against him dressed as a man, take him captive, and put him in chains.” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the forty-eighth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that when the Christian maiden spoke these words in Sharkan’s hearing, pride, ardor, and a champion’s jealousy seized him. He wished to reveal himself and lay hands upon her, but her surpassing beauty and exquisite loveliness restrained him, and he recited this verse:

When a beauty commits a single fault, her charms bring forth a thousand intercessors. Then she climbed upward with him following behind. Sharkan looked at her from the back and saw her buttocks heaving like waves upon a surging sea, and he recited these verses:

Her face has an advocate that wipes her offenses from men’s hearts, honored wherever it pleads. When you gaze upon her, you cry in wonder, “The moon has risen on the night of its fullness!” Were even Bilqis’s demon to wrestle with her, for all his vaunted strength, she would throw him in an instant. They continued until they reached a doorway beneath a marble arch. The young woman opened the door and entered with Sharkan. He passed into a long corridor vaulted with ten arches, from each of which hung a crystal lamp blazing like the sun. At the far end, the maidens met her with perfumed candles, their heads adorned with bands embroidered with all manner of jewels. She walked on with them before her and Sharkan behind, until they reached the monastery. There he saw couches facing one another all around the hall, hung with curtains adorned with gold. The floor was laid with many kinds of veined marble, and in the center stood a pool with twenty-four golden vessels from which water streamed like silver. At the far end he saw a couch spread with royal silk. “Mount this couch, my lord,” the young woman said. Sharkan seated himself upon it, and she withdrew from his sight. He asked some of the servants where she had gone. “She has retired to her bedchamber,” they replied, “and we shall attend you as she has commanded.” Then they set rare and exquisite dishes before him, and he ate his fill. Afterward they brought him a golden basin and ewer, and he washed his hands. Yet his thoughts were troubled by concern for his army, for he did not know what had happened to them in his absence. He also remembered how he had forgotten his father’s counsel. He remained bewildered and remorseful until dawn broke and daylight appeared, grieving over what he had done. Lost in thought, he recited these verses:

It was not judgment that I lacked, but I was stricken—what remedy have I? If there were one to lift this passion from me, I would renounce all strength and power of my own. My heart is lost in love’s bewilderment, yet in my distress I place my hope in God. When he had finished his verses, he saw a splendid procession approaching. Looking up, he beheld more than twenty moonlike maidens surrounding the young woman, who shone among them like the full moon among the stars. She wore royal brocade, and about her waist was a girdle set with all manner of jewels, drawing in her waist and setting off her hips, so that they seemed a dune of crystal beneath a rod of silver. Her breasts were like two firm pomegranates. At the sight, Sharkan almost lost his senses for joy and forgot his army and his vizier. He looked at her head and saw upon it a net of pearls interspersed with every kind of jewel. The maidens to her right and left held up her train as she swayed proudly along. Overawed by her loveliness and beauty, Sharkan sprang to his feet and cried, “Ah, how this girdle confounds me!” Then he recited these verses:

Heavy-hipped, swaying, slender-waisted, with tender breasts, she hides the longing in her heart, while I cannot hide my own. Her handmaids walk behind her as she goes, a queen in jewels and necklaces. Then the maiden gazed at him for a long while, looking again and again until she was certain she knew him. Turning toward him, she said, “You have brightened this place, Sharkan. How did you pass the night, brave warrior, after we went away and left you?” Then she added, “Lying is a disgrace and a dishonor in kings, especially in the greatest of kings. You are Sharkan son of Omar al-Numan, so do not deny yourself or your lineage, or conceal your affairs from me. Henceforth let me hear nothing from you but the truth, for falsehood breeds hatred and enmity. The arrow of destiny has pierced you; you must submit and be content.” When he heard her words, he could no longer deny it, and told her the truth. “I am Sharkan son of Omar al-Numan, whom time has tormented and cast into this place. Do with me now whatever you please.” She bowed her head toward the ground for a long while, then turned to him and said, “Be at ease and take comfort. You are my guest, and we have shared bread and salt, conversation and companionship. You are under my protection and my pledged word, so have no fear. By Christ, if all the people of the earth sought to harm you, they could not reach you unless I first laid down my life for yours. You are safe in Christ’s keeping and in mine.” She sat beside him and amused him with her playful talk until his fear subsided, and he knew that had she wished to kill him, she would have done so the night before.

Then she spoke to a handmaid in the Greek tongue. The girl went away for a while and returned with the vessels for wine and a table of food. Sharkan hesitated to eat, saying to himself, “Perhaps she has put something in the food.” She guessed his thoughts, turned to him, and said, “By Christ, it is not so. There is nothing in this food of what you fear. Had I wished to kill you, I could have done so already.” She went up to the table and ate a mouthful of every dish. At that Sharkan began to eat, and the maiden rejoiced and ate with him until they had had their fill. When they had washed their hands, she rose and ordered a handmaid to bring fragrant herbs and drinking vessels of gold, silver, and crystal, with wines of every color and the choicest kinds. The girl brought everything she had asked for. The maiden filled the first cup and drank it before him, as she had done with the food; then she filled a second and gave it to him, and he drank. “Muslim,” she said, “see what a life of delight and pleasure you are enjoying!” She went on drinking with him until he lost his senses. And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the forty-ninth night,

She said, “It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the maiden continued to drink and give Sharkan wine until he lost his senses, intoxicated both by the wine and by his love for her. Then she said to a handmaid, ‘Marjana, bring us some musical instruments.’ ‘I hear and obey,’ she replied. She went away for a moment and returned with a Damascene lute, a Persian harp, a Tatar flute, and an Egyptian qanun. The maiden took the lute, put it in order, and tightened its strings. Then she sang to it in a mellow voice, softer than the breeze and sweeter than the waters of Tasnim, delighting them with these verses:

May God forgive your eyes! How much blood they have shed, how many arrows your glances have aimed! I revere a beloved who wrongs the one who loves him, as though tenderness and mercy were forbidden him. Blessed are the eyes that lie awake for you, and blessed the heart that remains your slave. You have decreed my death, for you are my master; with my soul I would ransom the sovereign who commands me. Then each of the handmaids rose with her instrument and sang verses in Greek, and Sharkan was enraptured. Their mistress sang again, then asked him, ‘Muslim, did you understand what I was saying?’ ‘No,’ he replied, ‘but it was the beauty of your fingers that enchanted me.’ She laughed and said, ‘What would you do if I sang to you in Arabic?’ ‘I should lose my wits,’ he answered. She took up her instrument, changed the rhythm, and sang these verses:

Bitter is the taste of parting—who can endure it? Three things have assailed me: rejection, separation, and estrangement. I love a graceful one whose beauty has enslaved me; bitter indeed is estrangement. When she had finished her song, she looked at Sharkan and found that he had lost all awareness. He lay stretched out among them for a while, then recovered his senses and, recalling the song, swayed with rapture. The maiden and Sharkan returned to their wine, and continued in play and pleasure until the day departed and night spread its wings. Then she rose and went to her bedchamber. Sharkan asked after her, and they told him, ‘She has gone to her bedchamber.’ ‘May God watch over her and keep her safe,’ he said. In the morning a handmaid came to him and said, ‘My mistress summons you.’ He rose and followed her. As he drew near, the handmaids escorted him with tambourines and songs until he reached a great ivory door inlaid with pearls and precious stones. Passing through it, he found another spacious hall, at the far end of which stood a great vaulted recess furnished with every kind of silk. All around it were open windows overlooking trees and streams. In the chamber were sculpted figures into which the air flowed, setting mechanisms in motion inside them, so that anyone watching imagined they were speaking. The maiden sat looking toward them. When she saw him, she rose, took him by the hand, and seated him beside her. She asked how he had passed the night, and he offered a prayer for her. Then they sat talking. ‘Do you know anything concerning lovers and those enslaved by passion?’ she asked. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I know some poetry.’ ‘Let me hear it,’ she said, and he recited these verses:

No, no, I will not reveal my love for Azza: she has bound me with solemn vows and pledges. The monks of Madyan, whom I have known to sit weeping in dread of separation—had they heard her speak as I have heard her, they would have fallen before Azza, bowing and prostrating themselves. When she heard him, she said, ‘Kuthayyir was dazzling in eloquence and masterly in expression. How lavishly he praised Azza when he said’—and she recited these two verses:

Were Azza to dispute with the morning sun over beauty before a discerning judge, he would rule in her favor. Women came to me finding fault with Azza—may God make their cheeks the soles beneath her feet! Then she said, ‘It is said that Azza was the very perfection of beauty and loveliness.’ She went on, ‘Prince, if you know any of Jamil’s poetry, recite some for us.’ ‘I know it better than anyone,’ he replied, and recited this verse of Jamil’s:

You wish to kill me and desire nothing else, while I can see no goal I desire but you. When she heard this, she said, ‘Well done, Prince! What did Azza want of Jamil that made him say, “You wish to kill me and desire nothing else”?’ Sharkan replied, ‘My lady, she wanted of him what you want of me, and it does not satisfy you.’ She laughed at his words, and they continued drinking until day departed and night drew on in darkness. The maiden rose and went to her bedchamber, where she slept, while Sharkan slept in his own chamber until morning. When he awoke, the handmaids came to him as usual with tambourines and musical instruments. They kissed the ground before him and said, ‘Come, please; our mistress summons you to her presence.’ Sharkan rose and walked with the girls around him, playing their tambourines and instruments, until he left that hall and entered another, greater than the first. It held statues and images of birds beyond description. Sharkan marveled at the workmanship he saw there and recited these verses:

Has my watcher gathered from the fruits of necklaces pearls for fair throats, strung with pure gold? And fountains of water from ingots of silver, and rosy cheeks on faces of emerald? The violet’s hue seems to mirror blue eyes darkened with antimony. When the maiden saw Sharkan, she rose to greet him, took his hand, seated him beside her, and said, ‘You are the son of King Omar al-Numan. Can you play chess well?’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but do not be as the poet said:

I speak while passion folds and unfolds me, and a draught of love’s sweet saliva quenches my thirst. I came to the chessboard of the one I love, who played me with white and black, yet gave me no satisfaction. It was as though the king stood beside the rook upon a board bereft of queens. And when I look for the meaning of her glances, those glances, my friends, will be my death. Then she brought out the chessboard and played with him. Whenever Sharkan meant to watch her move, he looked instead at her face, putting his knight where his bishop should be and his bishop where his knight should be. She laughed and said, ‘If this is how you play, you know nothing at all.’ ‘This is the first game,’ he replied. ‘Do not count it.’ When she had beaten him, he set up the pieces again and played her, but she defeated him a second, a third, a fourth, and a fifth time. Then she turned to him and said, ‘You are beaten in everything.’ ‘My lady,’ he replied, ‘with one such as you, it is fitting that I should be beaten.’ She ordered food to be brought, and they ate and washed their hands. Then she ordered wine, and they drank. Afterward she took up the qanun, which she played with great skill, and sang these verses:

Time lies between contraction and expansion, now drawn out, now pared away. So drink to its beauty, if you can, and do not forsake me through neglect. They continued thus until night came, and that day was more delightful than the day before. When night fell, the maiden went to her bedchamber, and Sharkan returned to his own quarters and slept until morning. Then the handmaids came with tambourines and musical instruments and escorted him as usual to the maiden. When she saw him, she rose, took his hand, and seated him beside her. She asked how he had passed the night, and he prayed that she might live long. Then she took up the lute and sang these two verses:

Do not flee from an embrace, for sweet is its savor. Even the sun at its setting turns pale with the pain of parting. While they were thus occupied, they heard an uproar. They turned and saw men, young and old, approaching, most of them patricians, with drawn swords flashing in their hands. They were saying in Greek, ‘You have fallen into our hands, Sharkan! Be certain of your doom!’ When Sharkan heard this, he said to himself, ‘Perhaps this beautiful maiden has deceived me and kept me here until her men arrived—the patricians with whom she threatened me. Yet I have only myself to blame: I have cast myself into destruction.’ He turned to reproach her, but found that her face had turned pale. She sprang to her feet and demanded, ‘Who are you?’ The patrician who led them said, ‘Noble queen, peerless pearl, do you not know who this man with you is?’ ‘I do not know him,’ she replied. ‘Who is he?’ ‘This is the ravager of kingdoms and lord of horsemen,’ he said. ‘This is Sharkan son of King Omar al-Numan, who has stormed castles and mastered every impregnable fortress. News of him has reached your father, King Hardub, through the old woman Dhat al-Dawahi, and our king, your father, has established the truth from her report. By capturing this ill-omened lion, you have brought victory to the armies of the Greeks.’

When she heard the patrician’s words, she looked at him and asked, ‘What is your name?’ ‘My name is Masura,’ he replied, ‘son of your servant Musura son of Kashirda, chief of the patricians.’ ‘How did you enter my presence without my permission?’ she demanded. ‘My lady,’ he replied, ‘when I reached the door, neither chamberlain nor doorkeeper barred my way. All the doorkeepers rose and walked before us. It is customary to leave others waiting at the door until permission has been sought for them to enter. But this is no time for lengthy speeches. The king awaits our return with this prince, the fiery spark of the Muslim army, so that he may kill him and his army may return whence it came, without our having to endure the toil of fighting them.’ When the maiden heard this, she said, ‘These are improper words. The old woman Dhat al-Dawahi has lied: she has spoken falsely of things whose truth she does not know. By Christ, the man with me is not Sharkan, nor have I captured him. He is merely a man who came to us seeking hospitality, and we received him. Even if we were to establish beyond all doubt that he is Sharkan himself, it would not be consistent with my honor to surrender him to you, for he has entered under my pledged protection. Do not betray my guest and disgrace me before the world. Return instead to my father the king, kiss the ground before him, and tell him that the matter is not as the old woman Dhat al-Dawahi has described it.’ The patrician Masura replied, ‘Ibriza, I cannot return to the king without his enemy.’ Angered, she said, ‘Woe to you! What business have you to speak of this? Take my answer back to him, and no blame will fall on you.’ ‘I will not return without him,’ Masura said. Her color changed, and she replied, ‘Enough of this talk and babbling! This man entered our presence confident that he could charge a hundred horsemen single-handed. Even if I were to say to him, “You are Sharkan son of Omar al-Numan,” and he were to answer, “Yes,” you would still have no power to lay hands on him. If you attack him, he will not leave you until he has killed everyone in this place. He is here with me, and I shall bring him before you with his sword and shield.’ The patrician Masura said, ‘Even if I am safe from your anger, I am not safe from your father’s. When I see him, I shall signal to the patricians, and they will seize him and take him captive, humbled, to the king.’ When she heard this, she said, ‘That shall never be, for it would be sheer folly. He is one man, and you are a hundred patricians. If you wish to fight him, come against him one at a time, so the king may know which of you is the true champion.’ And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the fiftieth night,

She said, “It has reached me, O fortunate King, that Queen Ibriza said to the patrician, ‘He is one man, and you are a hundred patricians. If you wish to fight him, come against him one at a time, so the king may know which of you is the true champion.’ The patrician Masura replied, ‘By Christ, you have spoken truly. But none shall go out against him before me.’ The maiden said, ‘Wait until I go to him and explain the matter, and hear what answer he gives. If he agrees, so be it. If he refuses, you shall have no access to him, and I, my handmaids, and everyone in the convent will lay down our lives for his.’ Then she went to Sharkan and told him what had happened. He smiled, realizing that she had told no one about him, but that the news had spread and reached the king against her will. He turned his reproaches upon himself, saying, ‘How could I have cast myself into the land of the Greeks?’ Then, having heard the maiden’s words, he said to her, ‘For them to come against me one by one would be unfair to them. Why should they not come ten at a time?’ He sprang to his feet and advanced toward them with his sword and fighting gear. When the patrician saw him, he leaped forward and charged. Sharkan met him like a lion and struck him on the shoulder with his sword, which flashed out through his entrails. At this sight, Sharkan rose still higher in the maiden’s esteem, and she knew that when she had thrown him to the ground, it had not been by her strength, but by her beauty and loveliness.

Then the maiden turned to the patricians and said, ‘Avenge your comrade.’ The dead man’s brother, a mighty and headstrong warrior, came forward and charged Sharkan. But Sharkan gave him no respite, striking him on the shoulder with his sword, which flashed out through his entrails. At that the maiden cried, ‘Worshippers of Christ, avenge your comrade!’ They continued to come out against him one by one, while Sharkan plied his sword among them until he had killed fifty patricians, with the maiden looking on. God cast terror into the hearts of those who remained, and they hung back, no longer daring to face him in single combat. Instead, they charged him all together. He charged them in turn with a heart harder than stone, grinding them as grain is ground, robbing them of their wits and their lives. The maiden called to her handmaids, ‘Who is left in the convent?’ ‘No one but the doorkeepers,’ they replied. Then the queen went to meet him and embraced him. When the fighting was over, Sharkan went up with her to the palace, though a few of the enemy remained lurking in the corners of the convent. When the maiden saw them, she left Sharkan and returned wearing a coat of fine-linked mail and carrying a sharp Indian sword. ‘By Christ,’ she said, ‘I will not begrudge my life for my guest or abandon him, even if I am reviled for it throughout the land of the Greeks.’ Then she surveyed the patricians and found that he had killed eighty of them, while twenty had fled. When she saw what he had done to them, she said, ‘In men like you, warriors may take pride. God reward you, Sharkan!’ Then he rose, wiping the blood of the slain from his sword, and recited these verses:

How many a troop has come to war whose champions I have left as food for beasts! If you desire to meet me in combat, ask all mankind about me on the day of clashing swords. I left their lions fallen on the battlefield, stretched upon the scorching earth of those lands. When he had finished his verses, the maiden approached him smiling, kissed his hand, and took off the armor she was wearing. ‘My lady,’ he asked, ‘why did you put on mail and draw your sword?’ ‘Out of concern for you against these villains,’ she replied. Then she summoned the doorkeepers and said, ‘How could you allow the king’s men to enter my house without my permission?’ They answered, ‘O queen, it has never been our custom to seek your permission for the king’s messengers, especially the chief patrician.’ ‘I believe you intended nothing less than my dishonor and the murder of my guest,’ she said. Then she ordered Sharkan to strike off their heads, and he did so. ‘They deserve worse than that,’ she told the rest of her servants. Then she turned to Sharkan and said, ‘Now what was hidden has been revealed to you, and I shall tell you my story. Know that I am the daughter of Hardub, king of the Greeks, and my name is Ibriza. The old woman called Dhat al-Dawahi is my grandmother, my father’s mother, and it was she who told my father about you. She must now be plotting some scheme for my destruction, especially since you have killed my father’s patricians and word has spread that I have taken the Muslims’ side. The wisest course is for me to leave this place while Dhat al-Dawahi is pursuing me. But I ask you to show me the same kindness I have shown you. Enmity has now arisen between my father and me, so do not disregard anything I say, for all this has happened on your account.’

When Sharkan heard these words, he was beside himself with joy, and his heart expanded with relief. ‘By God,’ he said, ‘no one shall reach you while my soul remains in my body. But can you bear to part from your father and your family?’ ‘Yes,’ she replied. Sharkan made her swear to this, and they exchanged solemn pledges. Then she said, ‘Now my heart is at peace, but there is one further condition you must fulfill.’ ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘You must return with your army to your own country,’ she said. ‘My lady,’ he replied, ‘my father Omar al-Numan sent me to fight your father because of the treasure he took, including the three beads endowed with such great blessings.’ ‘Be at ease and take comfort,’ she said. ‘I shall tell you their story and explain the cause of our enmity with the king of Constantinople. We have a festival called the Feast of the Convent. Every year kings from every land gather there, together with the daughters of nobles and merchants, and remain for seven days. I used to be among them, but when enmity arose between us, my father forbade me to attend the festival for seven years. One year, as usual, the daughters of nobles came from all regions to the convent for the feast. Among them was the daughter of the king of Constantinople, whose name was Safiyya. They stayed in the convent for six days, and on the seventh the people departed. Safiyya said, “I will return to Constantinople only by sea.” So they fitted out a ship for her, and she embarked with her attendants. They unfurled the sails and set off, but as they sailed a wind arose and drove the ship off its course. By fate and destiny, a Christian ship from the Island of Camphor was there, carrying five hundred Franks with their arms and equipment. They had been at sea for some time. When they caught sight of the sail of the ship carrying Safiyya and her maidens, they swooped down upon it. Within an hour they had reached it, cast grappling hooks aboard, and taken it in tow. Then they spread their sails and made for their island. They had not gone far when the wind turned against them, tore their sails, and drove them into a narrow channel, bringing them close to us. We went out and found them like booty delivered into our hands. We captured and killed them and seized their treasures and precious goods. In their ship were forty maidens, among them Safiyya, the king’s daughter. We took the girls and presented them to my father, not knowing that among them was the daughter of Afridun, king of Constantinople. My father chose ten for himself, including the princess, and distributed the rest among his courtiers. Then he selected five of his ten, again including the princess, and sent them as a gift to your father Omar al-Numan, together with broadcloth, woolen fabrics, and Greek silks. Your father accepted the gift and chose Safiyya, King Afridun’s daughter, from among the five maidens. At the beginning of this year her father sent mine a letter containing words unfit to repeat, threatening and rebuking him. He wrote: “Two years ago you seized our ship while it was in the hands of a band of Frankish pirates. Aboard it were my daughter Safiyya and some sixty maidens, yet you sent no one to inform me. I could not make her plight known, for fear of disgrace among the kings on account of my daughter’s dishonor, and so I kept the matter secret until this year. What brought it to light was that I wrote to those pirates, asking for news of my daughter and insisting that they search for her and tell me which king of the islands held her. They replied, ‘By God, we never took her out of your country.’” Then he said in his letter to my father: “If you do not intend to make an enemy of me, disgrace me, and dishonor my daughter, send her back to me the moment this letter reaches you. If you disregard my letter and disobey my command, I shall assuredly repay you for your vile deeds and wicked conduct.”

‘When this letter reached my father and he read and understood it, he was deeply distressed. He regretted that he had not known that Princess Safiyya was among those maidens, so that he might have returned her to her father. He was at a loss what to do, for after so long a time he could not send to King Omar al-Numan and ask him to return her. A short while before, we had heard that his concubine, Safiyya daughter of King Afridun, had borne him children. When we learned that this was true, we knew that our predicament was a terrible calamity. My father could do nothing but write to King Afridun, apologizing and swearing solemn oaths that he had not known his daughter was among the girls on that ship. Then he informed him that he had sent her to King Omar al-Numan and that she had borne him children. When my father’s letter reached Afridun, king of Constantinople, he sprang up and sat down again, raging and foaming at the mouth. “How can my daughter be taken captive as a slave girl,” he cried, “passed from king to king, and bedded without marriage?” Then he said, “By Christ and the true faith, I cannot rest until I have taken vengeance and wiped away this disgrace. I shall do a deed of which people will speak long after I am gone.”

‘He bided his time until he had devised a stratagem and laid mighty snares. Then he sent messengers to your father Omar al-Numan with the story you have heard, until your father equipped you with the army now accompanying you and sent you to him, so that he might seize you and all your troops. As for the three beads he mentioned in his letter to your father, that tale is false. They belonged to his daughter Safiyya, and my father took them from her when he captured her and the maidens with her. Then he gave them to me, and I have them now. So go to your army and turn them back before they penetrate deep into the lands of the Franks and Greeks. Once you are deep in their country, they will block the roads against you, and you will never escape their hands until the Day of Reckoning and Retribution. I know that your troops are still where they were, for you ordered them to remain there for three days; but throughout this time they have missed you and have not known what to do.’

When Sharkan heard this, his mind filled with anxious thoughts. He kissed Queen Ibriza’s hand and said, ‘Praise be to God, who has blessed me with you and made you the means of saving me and those with me. But it grieves me to part from you, and I do not know what will happen to you after I leave.’ ‘Go now to your army and turn them back,’ she replied. ‘If the messengers are still with them, seize them until the truth becomes clear to you, when you are near your own country. After three days I shall follow you. You shall not enter Baghdad without me; we shall all enter it together.’ As he was about to leave, she said, ‘Do not forget the pledge between us.’ Then she rose with him to bid him farewell, embrace him, and quench the fire of longing. She wept with a grief that would have melted stone, her tears falling like rain. At the sight of her tears, his love and yearning grew more intense. His own eyes poured forth tears at their parting, and he recited these two verses:

I bade her farewell, my right hand wiping away my tears, my left hand clasping her in an embrace. ‘Do you not fear disgrace?’ she asked. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘The day of parting lays all lovers bare.’ Then Sharkan left her and descended from the convent. His horse was brought to him, and he mounted and rode toward the bridge. He crossed it and entered the trees. Emerging from them into the meadow, he suddenly saw three horsemen. He took precautions, drew his sword, and rode down toward them. As they drew near and saw one another, they recognized him, and he recognized them: one was the vizier Dandan, accompanied by two emirs. As soon as they knew him, they dismounted and saluted him. The vizier Dandan asked why he had been absent, and Sharkan told him everything that had happened with Queen Ibriza, from beginning to end. Dandan praised God Most High for his deliverance. Then Sharkan said, ‘Let us leave this country. The messengers who came with us have departed to inform their king of our arrival, and they may hurry back and seize us.’ Sharkan gave the order to march, and his army set out. They continued at a rapid pace until they reached the open ground above the valley. Meanwhile, the messengers had gone to their king and informed him of Sharkan’s arrival, and he had dispatched an army to seize him and those with him.

Such was the affair of the messengers and their king. As for Sharkan, he traveled with his army for five days, then halted in a valley thick with trees, where they rested for a while. Afterward they set out again and continued for twenty-five days, until they came in sight of the borders of their own country. When they arrived there, they felt safe and halted to rest. The people of that region came out with provisions for them and fodder for their animals. They stayed two days, then set off for home. Sharkan remained behind with a hundred horsemen, appointing the vizier Dandan to command the rest of the army. Dandan marched on with his men for a day. Then Sharkan and his hundred horsemen mounted and rode for two parasangs, until they reached a narrow pass between two mountains. Suddenly a cloud of dust rose before them. They reined in their horses and waited for a while until the dust cleared, revealing a hundred horsemen, grim as lions, encased in iron and mail. When they drew near Sharkan and his companions, they shouted, ‘By John and Mary, we have attained our desire! We have pursued you night and day, pressing on until we reached this place ahead of you. Dismount, surrender your weapons, and yield yourselves to us, and we shall spare your lives.’

When Sharkan heard these words, his eyes flashed and his cheeks reddened. ‘Christian dogs!’ he cried. ‘How dare you come against us, enter our country, and tread our soil? Was that not enough, that you must address us in this fashion? Do you imagine you will escape our hands and return to your own land?’ Then he shouted to his hundred horsemen, ‘At these dogs! They are no more numerous than you!’ He drew his sword and charged, and the hundred horsemen charged with him. The Franks met them with hearts harder than rock. Men crashed into men, champions hurled themselves upon champions, battle was joined, and the fighting grew fierce and terrible, leaving no room for talk. They continued to struggle and strike with their broad blades until day departed and night drew on in darkness. Then they drew apart, and Sharkan gathered his companions around him. He found that none had been wounded except four men, whose injuries were slight. He said to them, ‘All my life I have plunged into the raging sea of war, where swords clash like waves, and fought against warriors; yet, by God, I have never met champions so steadfast in swordplay and in facing men as these.’ They replied, ‘Know, O king, that among them is a Frankish horseman who commands them, a man of great courage whose thrusts strike home. Yet whenever one of us falls into his hands, he deliberately lets him go and does not kill him. By God, if he had wished to kill us, he could have slain us all.’ Sharkan was astonished to hear this and said, ‘Tomorrow we shall draw up our ranks and face them again. We are a hundred men, and we shall seek victory over them from the Lord of Heaven.’ And on this resolve they passed the night.

As for the Franks, they gathered around their commander and said to him, “We have achieved nothing against these men today.” He replied, “Tomorrow we shall draw up our ranks and challenge them to single combat, one after another.” They passed the night agreed upon this plan. When morning dawned, shining with its light, and the sun rose over the hilltops and plains and saluted Muhammad, fairest of the fair, King Sharkan mounted, and his hundred horsemen mounted with him. They all rode to the field, where they found the Franks drawn up for battle. Sharkan said to his companions, “Our enemies have formed their ranks. Make haste to meet them!” But a herald called out from among the Franks, “Today we shall fight only by turns, a champion of yours coming forth against a champion of ours.” At this, one of Sharkan’s horsemen rode out between the two lines and cried, “Who will meet me? Who will fight me? Let no sluggard or weakling come against me today!” He had scarcely finished speaking when a Frankish knight emerged, encased in armor, dressed in cloth of gold and mounted on a gray horse. Not a hair grew on the Frank’s cheeks. He rode to the middle of the field and met the Muslim with blows and thrusts. Before long, the Frank struck him with his lance, toppled him from his horse, and took him captive, leading him away in humiliation. His people rejoiced, but would not let him return to the field; instead they sent out another. Another Muslim came forward to meet this knight—the brother of the captive—and faced him in the lists. They charged at one another for a short while; then the Frank wheeled upon the Muslim, deceived him with a feint, and struck him with the butt of his lance, knocking him from his horse and taking him prisoner. The Muslims continued to ride out one after another, and the Franks took them captive, until day departed and night came on in gathering darkness. By then they had captured twenty Muslim horsemen. When Sharkan saw this, he was deeply troubled. He gathered his companions and said, “What is this calamity that has befallen us? Tomorrow I shall ride into the field and challenge the Frank who commands them. I shall find out what has brought him into our country and warn him against fighting us. If he refuses, we shall fight; if he makes peace with us, we shall make peace with him.”

They passed the night thus, until morning dawned and shone with its light. Then both companies mounted and the two sides formed their ranks. When Sharkan rode onto the field, he saw that more than half the Franks had dismounted before one of their knights and were walking ahead of him until they reached the middle of the lists. Sharkan studied this knight and recognized him as their commander. He wore a tunic of blue satin, within which his face shone like the rising full moon, and over it a coat of fine-linked mail. In his hand was an Indian sword, and he rode a black horse with a white blaze on its forehead like a silver dirham. Not a hair grew on the Frank’s cheeks. He spurred his horse into the middle of the field, gestured toward the Muslims, and called out in eloquent Arabic, “Sharkan, son of Umar al-Numan, lord of fortresses and lands! Come to battle and the thrusting of lances! Ride out against one who meets you on equal terms. You are the lord of your people, and I am the lord of mine. Whichever of us defeats the other shall have both him and his people under his command.” Before he had finished, Sharkan rode out to meet him, his heart full of wrath, and urged his horse toward the Frank. The Frank charged like an angry lion and struck him with a knightly onslaught. They fell to thrusting and striking, and in the heart of the field they were like two mountains crashing together, or two seas whose waves collide. They fought and battled from the beginning of the day until night came on in gathering darkness. Then they parted, each returning to his own people. When Sharkan rejoined his companions, he said, “Never have I seen a knight like this one. Yet I noticed a trait in him that I have never seen in anyone else: whenever he sees an opening for a fatal thrust, he reverses his lance and strikes with the butt. I do not know what will come of our encounter, but I wish we had men like him and his companions in our army.”

Sharkan passed the night, and when morning came the Frank rode out to meet him and took his place in the middle of the field. Sharkan advanced, and they began to fight, ranging far and wide in their combat, while all necks craned to watch them. They continued battling, struggling, and thrusting with their lances until day departed and night came on in gathering darkness. Then they parted and returned to their people, each telling his companions what he had endured at the other’s hands. The Frank said to his companions, “Tomorrow will decide the matter.” They passed that night until morning; then the two mounted and charged at one another, fighting until midday. After that, the Frank tried a stratagem: he spurred his horse, then pulled sharply on the reins, but it stumbled and threw him. Sharkan rushed upon him and was about to strike him with his sword, fearing the contest would drag on, when the Frank cried, “Sharkan! This is no knightly deed, but the act of a man bested by women!” When Sharkan heard these words, he raised his eyes and looked closely at the knight. It was Queen Ibriza, with whom all those things had happened at the convent. Recognizing her, he cast the sword from his hand, kissed the ground before her, and said, “What made you do this?” She replied, “I wished to test you in the field and see how steadfast you were in battle and at the lance. All those with me are maidens, every one a virgin, and they have defeated your knights in the lists. Had my horse not stumbled, you would have seen my strength and prowess.” Sharkan smiled at her words and said, “Praise be to God for your safety, and for bringing me together with you, O queen of the age!”

Then Queen Ibriza called to her maidens and ordered them to prepare to depart, after releasing the twenty prisoners they had taken from Sharkan’s men. The maidens obeyed her command and kissed the ground before her. Sharkan said to them, “Such as you should be kept by kings against times of hardship.” Then he signaled to his companions to salute her. They all dismounted and kissed the ground before the queen. The two hundred riders then mounted and traveled by night and day for six days, until they approached their own country. Sharkan ordered Queen Ibriza and her maidens to take off their Frankish dress. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-first night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Sharkan ordered Queen Ibriza and her maidens to take off their clothes and dress as the women of Rum, and they did so. Then he sent a party of his companions to Baghdad to inform his father, Umar al-Numan, of his arrival and tell him that Queen Ibriza, daughter of the king of Rum, had come with him, so that he might send a procession to welcome her. They immediately made camp where they were and remained there until morning. At daybreak Sharkan and his company mounted, as did Queen Ibriza and hers, and they set out toward the city. Presently the vizier Dandan appeared with a thousand horsemen to welcome Queen Ibriza and Sharkan. He had come at King Umar al-Numan’s command, in response to his son’s message. When they drew near, they approached the two and kissed the ground before them. Then they all mounted and rode in attendance upon them until they reached the city and went up to the king’s palace. Sharkan entered his father’s presence, and the king rose to embrace him and asked for his news. Sharkan told him what Queen Ibriza had said and all that had happened between them, and how she had left her kingdom and her father. “She chose to travel with us and remain among us,” he said. “The king of Constantinople wished to lay a trap for us because of his daughter Safiyya, for the king of Rum had told him her story and how he had sent her to you as a gift. The king of Rum had not known that she was the daughter of King Afridun, ruler of Constantinople. Had he known, he would never have given her to you, but would have returned her to her father.” Then Sharkan said, “None but Ibriza, daughter of the king of Constantinople, saved us from these tricks and plots. Never have we seen anyone braver than she.”

He then began to tell his father everything that had happened between them, from beginning to end, including their wrestling and their single combat. When King Umar al-Numan heard his son’s account, Ibriza rose greatly in his esteem, and he longed to see her. He summoned her so that he might question her, and Sharkan went to her and said, “The king calls for you.” She answered, “I hear and obey.” Sharkan brought her to his father, who sat upon his throne. The king had dismissed everyone from his presence except the servants. When the maiden Ibriza entered, she kissed the ground before him and addressed him in the most graceful words. He marveled at her eloquence, thanked her for what she had done for his son Sharkan, and bade her sit. She sat and unveiled her face, and when the king saw her, his reason deserted him. He drew her close and showed her favor, assigning her a palace for herself and her maidens and providing allowances for them all. Then he asked her about the three beads mentioned earlier. She replied, “Those beads are with me, O king of the age.” She rose, went to her apartments, opened a chest, and took out a box. From the box she drew a small golden casket, opened it, and brought out the three beads. She kissed them, handed them to the king, and withdrew, taking his heart with her.

After she had left, he sent for his son Sharkan. When he came, the king gave him one of the three beads. Sharkan asked about the other two, and he replied, “My son, I have given one to your brother Daw al-Makan and the other to your sister Nuzhat al-Zaman.” When Sharkan heard that he had a brother called Daw al-Makan—for he had known only of his sister Nuzhat al-Zaman—he turned to his father, King Umar al-Numan, and said, “Father, have you another son besides me?” “Yes,” he answered, “and he is now six years old.” He told him that the boy’s name was Daw al-Makan, that his sister was Nuzhat al-Zaman, and that the two were twins. This was bitter news to Sharkan, but he concealed his feelings and said to his father, “May Almighty God bless them.” Then he cast the bead from his hand and shook out his clothes. The king said, “Why do I see such a change in you on hearing this news? You shall inherit the kingdom after me, and I have bound the emirs of the state by an oath to that effect. This is your bead, one of the three.” Sharkan lowered his head toward the ground, ashamed to confront his father. Then he rose, beside himself with anger, and walked on until he entered Queen Ibriza’s palace. When he approached, she rose to meet him, thanked him for his kindness, and prayed for him and his father. She sat down and seated him beside her. Once he was settled, she noticed the anger in his face and asked what troubled him and why he was so enraged. He told her that his father, King Umar al-Numan, had had two children by Safiyya, a boy and a girl, and had named the boy Daw al-Makan and the girl Nuzhat al-Zaman. “He gave them two of the beads and gave me one, but I left it,” he said. “I knew nothing of this until now, and anger choked me. I have told you the cause of my wrath and hidden nothing from you. I fear he may marry you, for I have seen signs that he covets you as a wife. What do you say to that?” She replied, “Know, Sharkan, that your father has no authority over me and cannot take me without my consent. If he takes me by force, I shall kill myself. As for the three beads, it never occurred to me that he would bestow any of them on his children. I thought he would place them in his treasury among his precious things. But I would ask this kindness of you: give me the bead your father offered you, if you have accepted it from him.” He answered, “I hear and obey.” Then she said, “Have no fear.” She talked with him for a while and said, “I fear my father will hear that I am here with you and come seeking me. He and King Afridun may join forces because of Afridun’s daughter Safiyya and march against you with their armies, and there will be great turmoil.” When Sharkan heard this, he said, “My lady, if you are content to remain with us, give them no thought. Were all who dwell on land and sea to unite against us, we would defeat them.” She replied, “May all turn out well. If you treat me kindly, I shall stay with you; if you wrong me, I shall leave.” Then she ordered her maidens to bring food. The table was laid, and Sharkan ate a little before returning to his house, burdened with grief and care.

Such was Sharkan’s case. As for his father, Umar al-Numan, after his son had left him, he rose and went to his concubine Safiyya, taking the beads with him. When she saw him, she stood and remained standing until he had seated himself. His two children, Daw al-Makan and Nuzhat al-Zaman, came to him. He kissed them and hung a bead around each child’s neck. Delighted with the beads, they kissed his hands and went to their mother, who rejoiced in them and prayed that the king might live long. The king said to her, “Safiyya, since you are the daughter of King Afridun, ruler of Constantinople, why did you not tell me, so that I might honor you still more and raise your station?” When Safiyya heard this, she said, “O king, what more could I desire beyond the station I already enjoy? I am surrounded by your bounty and kindness, and God has blessed me with two children by you, a son and a daughter.” King Umar al-Numan admired her words and delighted in the sweetness of her speech, the delicacy of her understanding, and her graceful manners and knowledge. Then he left her and assigned a magnificent palace to her and her children. He appointed servants and attendants for them, as well as jurists, sages, astrologers, physicians, and surgeons, commending the children to their care. He increased their allowances and lavished kindness upon them, then returned to the royal palace to judge between the people.

Such was his conduct toward Safiyya and her children. As for Queen Ibriza, he became consumed with love for her and was infatuated with her night and day. Every evening he visited her and sat talking with her, hinting at his desire, but she gave him no answering encouragement, saying only, “O king of the age, at present I have no wish for men.” When he saw how she resisted him, his passion grew fiercer, and his longing and distraction increased. At last, unable to bear it, he summoned his vizier Dandan and confided his love for Queen Ibriza, daughter of King Hardub. He told him that she would not yield to him, that love for her was killing him, and that he had obtained nothing from her. When the vizier Dandan heard this, he said to the king, “When night falls, take a piece of henbane weighing one mithqal, go to her, and drink some wine with her. When you are about to finish your drinking and companionship, offer her the last cup, putting the henbane into it, and give it to her to drink. Before she reaches her bed, the drug will have overcome her, and you may have your will of her. That is my counsel.” The king replied, “Excellent advice!”

Then he went to his treasury and took out a piece of refined henbane so potent that, had an elephant smelled it, it would have slept from one year to the next. He put it in his pocket and waited until a little of the night had passed, then entered Queen Ibriza’s palace. When she saw him, she rose to greet him. He gave her leave to sit, and she sat down. He seated himself beside her and began speaking of wine. She had the drinking cloth spread, arranged the vessels for him, lit the candles, and ordered nuts, fruit, and everything else they needed to be brought. He drank with her and kept her company until the wine began to cloud Queen Ibriza’s head. When King al-Numan perceived this, he took the henbane from his pocket and held it between his fingers. He filled a cup and drank it, then filled it a second time and dropped the henbane into it without her noticing. “Take this and drink,” he said. Queen Ibriza took it and drank, and before long the drug overpowered her and robbed her of consciousness. He rose and went to her, finding her stretched upon her back. She had taken off her drawers, and the breeze had lifted the hem of her shift. When the king came upon her in this state, with a candle at her head and another at her feet casting its light between her thighs, his reason deserted him. Satan whispered to him, and he could no longer restrain himself. He took off his drawers, lay upon her, and violated her virginity. Then he rose from her and went to one of her maidens, named Marjana, saying, “Go in to your mistress and speak to her.” The maiden entered and found her mistress lying on her back, with blood running down her legs. She reached for one of her cloths, put her mistress to rights, and wiped away the blood.

When morning came, the maiden Marjana washed her mistress’s face, hands, and feet. Then she brought rose water and washed her face and mouth with it. At this, Queen Ibriza sneezed and vomited up the henbane, which came out of her belly in a lump like a small cake. She washed her mouth and hands and said to Marjana, “Tell me what has happened to me.” Marjana told her that she had found her lying on her back with blood flowing down her thighs. Then Ibriza knew that King Umar al-Numan had lain with her and had his way, and that his trick had succeeded. She was overcome with grief and shut herself away, telling her maidens, “Keep out anyone who wishes to visit me. Tell them I am ill, until I see what God will do with me.” News reached King Umar al-Numan that Queen Ibriza was unwell, and he began sending her cordials, sugar, and medicinal pastes. She remained secluded for months. Meanwhile, the king’s fire cooled, his longing for her died away, and he grew content to be without her. She had conceived by him, and as the months passed and her pregnancy became plain and her belly swelled, the world seemed to close in upon her. She said to her maiden Marjana, “Know that these people have not wronged me: I have wronged myself by leaving my father, my mother, and my kingdom. I have come to loathe life, and my spirit has failed me. I have neither courage nor strength left. Once, when I mounted my horse, I could master it; now I cannot even ride. If I give birth among them, I shall be disgraced before my maidens, and everyone in the palace will know that he took my virginity outside marriage. Yet if I return to my father, how can I face him? With what face can I go back? How well the poet said:

What solace can there be, with neither kin nor homeland, neither drinking companion nor cup nor home?” Marjana said to her, “The command is yours, and I am at your service.” She replied, “I wish to leave secretly this very day, with no one but you knowing, and travel to my father and mother. When flesh goes bad, none but its own people will take it in. God will do with me as He wills.” Marjana said, “That is well done, O queen.” Ibriza made her preparations, kept her secret, and waited some days until the king went out hunting and his son Sharkan left for the fortresses, where he intended to stay for a time. Then Ibriza turned to her maiden Marjana and said, “I wish to leave tonight. But what can I do against fate, when the time of labor and childbirth is so near? If I remain four or five days, I shall give birth here and be unable to return to my own country. This is what was written upon my brow and decreed for me in the unseen.” She thought for a while, then said to Marjana, “Find us a man to travel with us and serve us on the road, for I have no strength to bear arms.” Marjana replied, “By God, my lady, I know of none but a black slave named al-Ghadban, one of King Umar al-Numan’s slaves. He is brave and remains at the gate of our palace, for the king ordered him to serve us, and we have showered him with kindness. I shall go out and speak to him about this, promise him money, and say, ‘If you wish to remain with us, I shall marry you to whomever you choose.’ He told me before now that he used to be a highwayman. If he agrees to come, we shall achieve our purpose and reach our own country.” Ibriza said, “Bring him to me, so that I may speak to him.”

Marjana went out to him and said, “Ghadban, God has brought you good fortune, if you will accept what your mistress has to say.” She took him by the hand and led him to her mistress. When he saw her, he kissed her hands. At the sight of him, her heart recoiled, but she said to herself, “Necessity has its own laws.” She addressed him, though her heart shrank from him, saying, “Ghadban, will you help us against the treacheries of time? If I reveal my affairs to you, will you keep them secret?” When the slave looked at her and saw her beauty, she took possession of his heart, and he fell in love with her on the spot. “My lady,” he said, “whatever you command, I shall not disobey.” She said, “I want you this very hour to take me and this maiden of mine, prepare two riding camels and two of the king’s horses for us, put saddlebags of money and some provisions on each horse, and travel with us to our country. If you remain with us, we shall marry you to whichever of my maidens you choose. If you wish to return to your own country, we shall give you whatever you desire, and you may go home with enough money for your needs.” When al-Ghadban heard this, he rejoiced greatly and said, “My lady, I would serve you both with my very eyes. I shall go with you and prepare the horses.” He went away delighted, saying to himself, “Now I have obtained what I wanted from them. If they will not yield to me, I shall kill them and take their money.” Concealing this intention, he went off and returned with two riding camels and three horses, riding one himself. He brought a horse to Queen Ibriza, and she mounted, though she was suffering the pains of labor and could scarcely control herself for the agony. Marjana mounted another horse. He traveled with them by night and day until they reached the mountains, a day’s journey from Ibriza’s country. Then labor overtook her so fiercely that she could no longer stay in the saddle. She said to al-Ghadban, “Help me down, for my labor has come,” and to Marjana, “Dismount, sit beneath me, and deliver my child.” Marjana dismounted, and al-Ghadban got down from his horse and secured the bridles of the two horses. Queen Ibriza descended from her horse, scarcely aware of the world in the violence of her labor. When al-Ghadban saw her on the ground, Satan rose before him. He drew his sword in her face and said, “My lady, have mercy on me and grant me your embrace.” At his words, she turned to him and said, “Have I nothing left now but black slaves, when once I would not accept the mightiest kings?” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-second night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that after Queen Ibriza said to the slave al-Ghadban, “Have I nothing left now but black slaves?” she began rebuking him and showing her anger. “Wretch!” she said. “What words are these you speak to me? Never say such things in my presence. Know that I will consent to none of what you have said, even if I must drink the cup of death. But wait until I have delivered the child, tended to myself, and cast out the afterbirth. Then, if you can overpower me, do what you will. If you do not cease your foul talk now, I shall kill myself with my own hands, leave this world, and find rest from it all.” Then she recited these verses:

“Ghadban, leave me! I have borne enough of fate and all the miseries of time. My Lord forbade me lewdness, saying, ‘The Fire is the abode of those who disobey Me.’ I will not stoop to wickedness; leave me, do not look upon me with contempt. Unless you cease your lewd pursuit and honor me as others have, I shall cry out with all my strength to the men of my people, summoning those far and near. Though I were cut to pieces by a Yemeni sword, I would not let a lecher look upon me, even among the freeborn and the great—much less a slave descended from whores!” When al-Ghadban heard this verse, he flew into a terrible rage. His eyes reddened, his face turned ashen, his nostrils swelled, his lips drooped, and his fury grew. He recited these verses:

“Ibriza, if you shun me, remember the man your deadly glance has slain with love. Your coldness has torn my heart apart; my body wastes, my patience is no more. Your speech has bewitched and captured every mind; my reason flees, while longing draws near. Though I must muster an army to fill the earth, I shall attain my desire in this age.” When Ibriza heard his words, she wept bitterly and said, “Wretch, Ghadban! Have you risen so high that you may address me in this fashion, you bastard, bred in depravity? Do you imagine all people are alike?” When the accursed slave heard these words, he became violently enraged. He advanced upon her, struck her with his sword, and killed her. Then he took the money, drove her horse before him, and fled as a runaway into the mountains.

Such was al-Ghadban’s case. As for Queen Ibriza, she lay cast upon the ground. The child she had delivered was a boy, and Marjana took him into her lap. She gave a great shriek, tore her clothes, and began throwing dust upon her head and striking her cheeks until blood flowed from her face. “Alas, what ruin!” she cried. “How could a worthless black slave kill my mistress, after all her feats of chivalry?” While she was weeping, a cloud of dust rose until it filled the horizon. When it cleared, a mighty army appeared beneath it. These were the forces of the king of Rum, Queen Ibriza’s father. The reason was that, when he heard his daughter had fled with her maidens to Baghdad and was staying with King Umar al-Numan, he had set out with his men to seek news from travelers who might have seen her there. He had gone out to question travelers about where they had come from, hoping to learn something of his daughter. From a distance, he had seen the three of them—his daughter, the slave al-Ghadban, and her maiden Marjana—and had turned toward them to make inquiries. When he approached, the slave had feared for his own life, killed her, and escaped. As they came up, her father saw her lying on the ground, with her maiden weeping over her. He flung himself from his horse and fell senseless to the earth. All the horsemen, emirs, and viziers with him dismounted. They pitched their tents in the mountains and set up a pavilion for King Hardub, outside which the officers of state took their stand. When Marjana saw her master and recognized him, her weeping and lamentation redoubled. Once the king recovered from his swoon, he asked her what had happened. She told him the story, saying, “Your daughter’s murderer was a black slave belonging to King Umar al-Numan.” She also told him what King Umar al-Numan had done to his daughter.

When King Hardub heard this, the world grew dark before his eyes, and he wept bitterly. Then he ordered a litter to be brought, had his daughter carried in it, and returned to Caesarea, where they brought her into the palace. King Hardub went to his mother, Dhat al-Dawahi, and said, “Is this how the Muslims treat my daughter? King Umar al-Numan took her virginity by force, and afterward a black slave of his killed her. By the truth of Christ, I must avenge my daughter upon him and wipe the dishonor from my name, or I shall kill myself with my own hands!” Then he wept bitterly. His mother, Dhat al-Dawahi, said to him, “None but Marjana killed your daughter, for she secretly hated her.” Then she said, “Do not grieve over taking vengeance. By the truth of Christ, I shall not leave King Umar al-Numan alone until I have killed him and his children. I shall work upon him a scheme beyond the powers of cunning men and heroes, a deed that storytellers will recount in every land. But you must obey me in all I say, and you shall attain your desire.” He replied, “By the truth of Christ, I shall never disobey anything you say.” She said, “Bring me young, full-breasted virgin girls, and bring me the sages of the age. Give them generous rewards and order them to teach the girls wisdom, letters, the art of addressing kings and keeping them company, and poetry. Let them learn to speak wise sayings and words of admonition. The sages must be Muslims, so that they can teach them the lore of the Arabs, the histories of the caliphs, and the deeds of the former kings of Islam, even if we must spend ten years at it. Be patient and take heart, for some of the Bedouin say that vengeance taken after forty years is still swiftly taken. Once we have educated these girls, we shall have our enemy at our mercy, for he is afflicted with a passion for slave girls. He has three hundred and sixty-six of them, and their number has increased by a hundred from among your own favored maidens who accompanied the departed. When the girls have learned the subjects I have named, I shall take them and set out with them.”

When King Hardub heard his mother Dhat al-Dawahi’s words, he rejoiced greatly and kissed her head. At once he dispatched travelers and messengers to the farthest reaches of the country to bring him Muslim sages. They obeyed his command, journeyed to distant lands, and brought him the sages and scholars he had requested. When they appeared before him, he honored them lavishly, bestowed robes of honor upon them, assigned them salaries and provisions, and promised them great wealth if they carried out his commands. Then he brought the girls before them. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-third night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that when the scholars and sages came before King Hardub, he honored them exceedingly, brought the girls before them, and instructed them to teach the girls wisdom and letters. They obeyed his command.

Such was King Hardub’s case. As for King Umar al-Numan, when he returned from the hunt and went up to his palace, he asked for Queen Ibriza but could not find her, and no one could tell him anything about her. He was greatly distressed and said, “How can this girl have left the palace without anyone knowing? If this is how my kingdom is managed, its affairs are neglected and no one keeps order! I shall never again go out hunting without first appointing men to guard the gates.” His grief deepened, and he was sorely troubled by Queen Ibriza’s departure. While he was in this state, his son Sharkan returned from his journey. His father told him what had happened and said that she had fled while he was hunting. Sharkan grieved deeply at the news. Meanwhile, the king visited his two children every day and showed them every honor. He had brought scholars and sages to instruct them and had assigned allowances for their support. When Sharkan saw this, he became furiously angry and envied his brother and sister until his wrath showed upon his face. He continued to sicken over the matter, until one day his father said to him, “Why do I see your body growing weaker and your face more yellow?” Sharkan replied, “Father, whenever I see you draw my brother and sister close and lavish kindness upon them, envy rises in me. I fear it will grow so strong that I shall kill them, and then you will kill me on their account. This is why my body has fallen ill and my color has changed. But I ask this favor of you: give me one of your fortresses, where I may live for the rest of my life. As the proverb says, ‘Better and fairer to be far from one’s beloved: what the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over.’” Then he lowered his head toward the ground.

When King Umar al-Numan heard his words, he understood the cause of his decline. He comforted him and said, “My son, I shall grant your wish. There is no greater fortress in my dominions than Damascus, and from this moment it is yours.” He immediately summoned the secretaries and ordered them to draw up a decree appointing his son Sharkan governor of Damascus in Syria. They wrote the decree and prepared him for his departure. Sharkan took the vizier Dandan with him, charged him with the government and administration of the kingdom, and entrusted his affairs to him. Then his father bade him farewell, as did the emirs and the great officers of state. He marched with his army until he reached Damascus. When he arrived, its people beat their kettledrums, sounded their trumpets, and adorned the city. They welcomed him with a splendid procession, the men of the right wing marching on the right and those of the left wing on the left.

Such was the case with Sharkan. As for his father, Umar al-Numan, after his son’s departure the sages came before him and said, “Our lord, your children have mastered learning, wisdom, and good manners.” King Umar al-Numan rejoiced exceedingly and bestowed gifts upon all the sages, for he saw that Dau al-Makan had grown and flourished, learned to ride, and reached the age of fourteen. He had become devoted to religion and worship, and loved the poor, the learned, and those versed in the Quran. All the people of Baghdad, men and women alike, came to love him. At length the Iraqi pilgrimage procession passed through Baghdad on its way to perform the Hajj and visit the Prophet’s tomb, blessings and peace be upon him. When Dau al-Makan saw the procession with its ceremonial litter, he longed to make the pilgrimage. He went to his father and said, “I have come to ask your leave to perform the Hajj.” But his father refused him, saying, “Wait until next year, when I shall go on pilgrimage and take you with me.” Finding the wait too long to bear, he went to his sister Nuzhat al-Zaman and found her standing in prayer. When she had finished, he said, “Longing to make the pilgrimage to God’s Sacred House and visit the tomb of the Prophet, blessings and peace be upon him, is killing me. I asked our father’s permission, but he refused. So I mean to take some money and set out secretly, without telling him.” His sister said, “For God’s sake, take me with you, and do not deprive me of a visit to the Prophet, blessings and peace be upon him.” He replied, “When darkness falls, leave this place and tell no one.”

At midnight Nuzhat al-Zaman rose, took some money, and dressed in men’s clothes. She was the same age as Dau al-Makan. She made her way to the palace gate, where she found that her brother had readied the camels. He mounted, helped her mount, and they set off through the night, mingling with the pilgrims until they were in the midst of the Iraqi caravan. They journeyed on, and God granted them safe passage until they entered holy Mecca, stood at Arafat, and completed the rites of pilgrimage. Then they went to visit the Prophet, blessings and peace be upon him. After their visit, they intended to return to their own country with the pilgrims, but Dau al-Makan said to his sister, “Sister, I wish to visit Jerusalem and the tomb of Abraham, the Friend of God, peace be upon him.” “So do I,” she replied. Having agreed upon this, he went out and hired mounts for them both with the people bound for Jerusalem. They made their preparations and departed with the caravan. That night his sister was seized by a fever with chills and fell ill. She recovered, but then he in turn fell sick, and she tenderly nursed him in his weakness. They continued until they entered Jerusalem, where Dau al-Makan’s illness grew severe. They took lodgings at an inn, rented a room, and settled there. His sickness worsened until it wasted him away and left him insensible to the world. His sister Nuzhat al-Zaman grieved for him and said, “There is no power and no strength save in God. This is God’s decree.”

She remained with her brother in that place as his weakness increased, tending him herself and spending her money on him, until all she had was gone and she was left destitute, without a single dinar or dirham. Then she sent the inn-boy to the market with a piece of her clothing. He sold it, and she spent the proceeds on her brother. Next she sold another article, and so she went on, selling her belongings one by one until she had nothing left but a torn mat. Then she wept and said, “To God belongs the command, before and after.” Her brother said to her, “Sister, I feel that I am recovering, and I have a craving for some roast meat.” She replied, “By God, brother, I cannot bring myself to beg. But tomorrow I shall enter the house of some great person and work as a servant, to earn something for us both to live on.” She thought for a while, then said, “I cannot bear to leave you in this state, but against my will I must go and seek a livelihood.” Her brother said, “After such honor, must you be brought so low? There is no power and no strength save in God, the Most High, the Almighty!” He wept, and she wept with him. Then she said, “Brother, we are strangers here. We have lived in this place a whole year, and not one person has knocked at our door. Are we to die of hunger? I can see no course but to go out to service and bring you something for us to live on until you recover. Then we shall journey home.” And she continued weeping for a while.

After this Nuzhat al-Zaman rose and covered her head with a ragged cloak belonging to a camel-driver who had left it behind with them. She kissed her brother’s head, embraced him, and went out weeping, not knowing where to go. Her brother waited for her until the time of the night prayer drew near, but she did not come. He went on waiting until dawn, yet still she had not returned. Two days passed in this way, and his distress became unbearable. His heart trembled for her, and hunger tormented him. He came out of the room, called to the inn-boy, and said, “I want you to carry me to the market.” The boy carried him there and set him down. The people of Jerusalem gathered around him and wept to see his condition. He gestured that he wanted something to eat, so they collected a few dirhams from some of the merchants in the market, bought food, and fed him. Then they carried him to a shop platform, spread a piece of coarse matting beneath him, and placed a pitcher by his head. When night fell, everyone went away, troubled on his account. At midnight he remembered his sister, and his weakness grew worse. He would neither eat nor drink and lost all awareness. The people of the market collected thirty dirhams from the merchants, hired a camel for him, and said to the camel-driver, “Take this young man to Damascus and place him in the hospital there. Perhaps he will recover.” “On my head be it,” the man replied. But he said to himself, “How am I to travel with this sick man when he is at death’s door?” He took him away to a secluded place and kept him hidden until night, then cast him onto the refuse heap by a bathhouse furnace and went his way.

In the morning the bathhouse stoker came out to his work and found him lying on his back. “Why must they choose this place to throw a dead body?” he said to himself. He kicked him, and the young man stirred. “One of you fellows eats a lump of hashish and then throws himself down wherever he pleases!” said the stoker. Then he looked at his face and saw that his cheeks were still beardless and that he was handsome and radiant. Pity moved him, and he realized that the youth was a sick stranger. “There is no power and no strength save in God,” he said. “I have sinned against this boy. The Prophet, blessings and peace be upon him, enjoined us to honor strangers, especially those who are sick.” He lifted him and carried him home, then went in to his wife and told her to tend him and spread a rug for him. She did so, placed a pillow beneath his head, heated some water, and washed his hands, feet, and face. The stoker went to the market and brought rosewater and sugar. He sprinkled the rosewater on the youth’s face and gave him sugared water to drink, then brought out a clean shirt and dressed him in it. The young man began to feel the first breath of returning health and leaned back against the pillow. The stoker rejoiced and said, “Praise be to God for this boy’s recovery! O God, by Your hidden mystery, I ask You to make my hands the means of restoring this youth to health.” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-fourth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the stoker said, “O God, by Your hidden mystery, I ask You to make my hands the means of restoring this boy to health.” For three days the stoker tended him, giving him sugared water, willow water, and rosewater to drink, and treating him with such kindness and gentleness that health began to flow through his body and he opened his eyes. The stoker happened to come in and found him sitting up, though still bearing the marks of hardship. “How are you now, my son?” he asked. Dau al-Makan replied, “Well and recovering.” The stoker praised and thanked his Lord, then went to the market and bought ten chickens. He brought them to his wife and said, “Kill two for him each day, one in the morning and one toward evening.” She rose, killed a chicken, boiled it, and brought it to the young man, feeding him the meat and giving him the broth to drink. When he had finished eating, she brought warm water for him to wash his hands. He leaned against the pillow, and she covered him with a sheet. He slept until the afternoon, when she boiled another chicken, brought it to him, and pulled the meat apart. “Eat, my son,” she said. While he was eating, her husband came in and found her feeding him. He sat down by his head and asked, “How are you now, my son?” “Praise be to God for restored health,” he replied. “May God reward you for all you have done for me.” The stoker rejoiced, then went out and brought violet syrup and rosewater for him to drink.

This stoker earned five dirhams a day at the bathhouse. Every day he spent one dirham on sugar, rosewater, and violet syrup for the young man, and another on chickens. He continued to care for him tenderly until a month had passed, the traces of sickness had vanished, and his health had returned. The stoker and his wife rejoiced at Dau al-Makan’s recovery, and the stoker said to him, “My son, would you like to come to the bathhouse with me?” “Yes,” he replied. The stoker went to the market and brought a donkey-hirer, who mounted him on a donkey. He supported him until they reached the bathhouse, then went inside with him and seated him within. He went to the market and bought some lote-leaf powder and cleansing powder, then said to Dau al-Makan, “My lord, in God’s name, let me wash your body.” He began rubbing Dau al-Makan’s feet and washing him with the powders. Just then a bath attendant arrived, sent by the master of the bathhouse. Finding the stoker rubbing the young man’s feet, he came forward and said, “This does our master little credit.” The stoker replied, “By God, our master has overwhelmed us with kindness.” The attendant shaved Dau al-Makan’s head, and then he and the stoker washed. Afterward the stoker took him home and dressed him in a fine shirt, a robe of his own, and a neat turban, and gave him a sash. The stoker’s wife had killed and cooked two chickens. When Dau al-Makan came in and sat down on the bedding, the stoker dissolved sugar in rosewater and gave it to him to drink. Then he laid out the meal, tore the chicken into pieces, and fed him, giving him broth to drink until he had had enough. Dau al-Makan washed his hands and praised God Most High for his recovery. Then he said to the stoker, “You are the one God sent as a blessing to me, and through your hands He restored my health.” The stoker replied, “Let us put such talk aside. Tell us what brought you to this city, and where you come from, for I can see in your face the signs of a life of ease.” Dau al-Makan said, “First tell me how you came upon me, and then I shall tell you my story.” The stoker replied, “I found you thrown onto the refuse heap beside the furnace when I went to my work at dawn. I did not know who had left you there, so I brought you home. That is my story.”

Dau al-Makan said, “Glory be to Him who gives life to bones when they have crumbled to dust! Brother, you have shown kindness to one who will know how to value it, and you shall reap its reward.” Then he asked the stoker, “What country am I in now?” “You are in the city of Jerusalem,” he replied. At this Dau al-Makan remembered his exile and his separation from his sister. He wept as he confided his secret to the stoker and told him his story. Then he recited these verses:

“In love they laid upon me more than I could bear; for their sake my Day of Judgment has arrived. Have mercy on my heart, you who forsake me: since you left, even those who mocked me pity me. Do not deny me the gift of a single glance to ease my suffering and my fierce desire. I asked my heart for patience in your absence; it answered, ‘Leave me be! Patience is not my way.’” Then he wept still harder, and the stoker said, “Do not weep. Thank God for your safety and recovery.” Dau al-Makan asked, “How far are we from Damascus?” “Six days,” he replied. “Would you send me there?” Dau al-Makan asked. The stoker said, “My lord, how could I let you go alone when you are so young? If you wish to travel to Damascus, I shall go with you myself. And if my wife agrees to come, I shall settle there, for I cannot bear to part with you.” Then he said to his wife, “Will you travel with me to Damascus in Syria, or will you stay here while I take this young master there and return to you? He wishes to go, and by God, I cannot bear to part with him, and I fear the highway robbers for his sake.” His wife replied, “I shall travel with you both.” “Praise be to God that we are agreed,” said the stoker. Then he rose and sold his belongings and his wife’s. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-fifth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the stoker and his wife agreed to travel with Dau al-Makan and accompany him to Damascus. The stoker sold his belongings and his wife’s, then hired a donkey, mounted Dau al-Makan upon it, and set out with them. They traveled for six days until they entered Damascus, arriving toward evening and taking lodgings there. The stoker went out and bought food and drink as usual. They remained in this way for five days. Then the stoker’s wife fell ill for a few days and passed into the mercy of God Most High. Dau al-Makan was deeply distressed, for he had grown accustomed to her and she had cared for him. The stoker grieved bitterly for her. Dau al-Makan turned to him and, seeing his sorrow, said, “Do not grieve, for we must all pass through this gate.” The stoker turned to Dau al-Makan and said, “May God reward you, my son. May God Most High, in His bounty, make good our loss and lift our sorrow. Would you like us to go out and look about Damascus, my son, to cheer your spirits?” Dau al-Makan replied, “As you think best.” The stoker rose, took Dau al-Makan’s hand in his, and walked with him until they came below the stables of the governor of Damascus. There they found camels laden with chests, bedding of brocade and other fabrics, saddled spare horses, Bactrian camels, slaves, and mamluks, while people hurried about in great confusion. Dau al-Makan said, “I wonder whose mamluks, camels, and fabrics these are?” He asked one of the servants, who replied, “These are gifts from the Emir of Damascus, which he intends to send to King Umar al-Numan along with the tribute from Syria.” When Dau al-Makan heard this, his eyes brimmed with tears, and he recited:

“If we complain of separation, what can we say? If longing kills us, where is there a way out? If we find a messenger to speak for us, no messenger can voice a lover’s grief. And if we seek patience, little patience remains to me since those I love were lost.” He also recited:

“They have departed, vanished from my sight, yet in my heart they still abide. Their beauty is hidden from me: life has no sweetness, and my longing never fades. If God decrees that I shall meet you once again, long will be the tale I tell of yearning.” When he had finished his verses, he wept. The stoker said, “My son, we could scarcely believe that you had regained your health. Take heart and do not weep, for I fear you may suffer a relapse.” He continued to comfort him and jest with him, while Dau al-Makan sighed and mourned his exile and his separation from his sister and his kingdom. His tears flowed, and he recited these verses:

“Take provisions from this world, for you must journey on, and know for certain that death will come. Your worldly pleasures are delusion and regret; your life in this world is illusion and vanity. This world is but a traveler’s lodging: he halts at evening and departs at dawn.” Then Dau al-Makan began to weep and sob over his exile, and the stoker too wept for the loss of his wife. Yet he continued to soothe Dau al-Makan until morning came. When the sun rose, the stoker said, “It seems you have remembered your homeland.” “Yes,” Dau al-Makan replied. “I cannot remain here. I commend you to God, for I am traveling with these people, making my way with them little by little until I reach my own country.” The stoker said, “And I shall come with you. I cannot part with you. I have done you a kindness, and I wish to complete it by serving you.” “May God reward you for me,” said Dau al-Makan, delighted that the stoker would accompany him. The stoker went out at once, bought him a donkey, and prepared provisions. “Ride this donkey on the journey,” he told Dau al-Makan, “and when you grow tired of riding, dismount and walk.” Dau al-Makan said, “May God bless you and help me repay you, for you have shown me kindness such as no man shows even his own brother.” They waited until darkness fell, loaded their provisions and belongings onto the donkey, and departed.

Such was the case with Dau al-Makan and the stoker. As for his sister Nuzhat al-Zaman, when she parted from her brother, she wrapped herself in the cloak and left the inn where they had been staying in Jerusalem, intending to find service with someone and buy her brother the roast meat he craved. She walked along weeping, not knowing where to turn. Her thoughts were occupied with her brother, while her heart dwelt on her family and her homeland. She began to beseech God Most High to deliver her from these afflictions and recited these verses:

“Darkness has fallen, and yearning stirs my sickness; longing has roused all the pain within me. The anguish of parting has lodged in my breast, and passion has reduced me to nothing. Grief makes me restless, longing burns me, and tears betray the love I sought to hide. I know no means of reunion that might lift this suffering from me. The fire in my heart is fed by longing, and in its blaze the lover suffers torment. You who reproach me for what has befallen me, enough! I have endured what the Pen has written. I swear by love that I shall never find solace: the oath of lovers is an oath kept true. O night, tell those who recount love’s tales my story, and bear witness, from your knowledge, that I have not slept through you.” Then Nuzhat al-Zaman, Dau al-Makan’s sister, walked on, looking to right and left. An old Bedouin traveler, accompanied by five Arabs, happened to turn toward her. He saw her beauty beneath the torn cloak on her head and marveled at it. “This girl is beautiful,” he said to himself, “though she is living in hardship. Whether she belongs to this city or is a stranger, I must have her.” He followed her at a little distance until he intercepted her in a narrow passage and called out to ask about her circumstances. “Daughter,” he said, “are you free or a slave?” Hearing his words, she looked at him and replied, “By your life, do not renew my sorrows.” He said, “I was blessed with six daughters. Five died, and only the youngest remains. I came to ask whether you belong to this city or are a stranger, so that I might take you to stay with her and keep her company. Your presence would distract her from mourning her sisters. If you have no family, I shall treat you as one of them, and you will be like a child of my own.”

When Nuzhat al-Zaman heard his words, she said to herself, “Perhaps I shall be safe with this old man.” Then she lowered her head in modesty and said, “Uncle, I am a stranger here, and I have a sick brother. I will go home with you on condition that I stay with your daughter by day and return to my brother at night. If you accept this condition, I shall go with you, for I am a stranger. Once I was honored, but now I am humbled and despised. My brother and I came from the Hijaz, and I fear he will not know where I am.” When the Bedouin heard her words, he said to himself, “By God, I have gained what I wanted.” Then he told her, “I want you only to keep my daughter company by day. At night you may go to your brother, or, if you wish, bring him to our home.” He continued reassuring her and speaking gently until she agreed to enter his service. He walked ahead and she followed him toward his companions, who had made the camels ready, loaded them, and packed water and provisions upon them. Now this Bedouin was a highway robber, a betrayer of companions, and a man full of tricks and deceit. He had neither daughter nor son; all he had said was a ruse to ensnare this unfortunate girl, in fulfillment of what God had decreed.

The Bedouin kept talking to her along the road until he had left Jerusalem and joined his companions. He found that they had saddled the camels, so he mounted one and set her behind him. They rode through most of the night. Nuzhat al-Zaman realized that his words had been a trick and that he had deceived her. She began weeping and crying out as they traveled toward the mountains, for they feared being seen. Shortly before dawn they dismounted, and the Bedouin came up to her and said, “You city girl, what is all this crying? By God, if you do not stop, I shall beat you to death, you little town-bred wretch!” When she heard this, Nuzhat al-Zaman loathed life and wished for death. She turned to him and said, “Wicked old man! Graybeard of Hell! How could I have trusted you, when you would betray and deceive me?” The Bedouin replied, “You town-bred wretch! Have you a tongue to answer me back?” He rose with a whip in his hand and struck her, saying, “If you do not keep quiet, I shall kill you.” She was silent for a while, then thought of her brother and his illness and wept in secret. On the second day she turned to the Bedouin and said, “How could you trick me like this and bring me to these desolate mountains? What do you want with me?” His heart hardened at her words. “You town-bred wretch!” he said. “Have you a tongue to answer me back?” He took the whip and brought it down upon her back until she fainted. She fell at his feet and kissed them, and he stopped beating her, but began cursing her. “By my pointed cap,” he said, “if I hear you crying, I shall cut out your tongue and stuff it into your cunt, you town-bred wretch!” Then she fell silent and made no answer. In pain from the beating, she crouched down, tucked her head into the neck of her garment, and thought of her own plight and her brother’s: her humiliation after honor, his illness and loneliness, and their exile. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she recited these verses:

“Fortune’s way is to retreat and then advance; no state endures among mankind. Everything in this world has its appointed term, and all men’s allotted days must end. How much oppression and terror must I bear? Alas for a life made wholly of oppression and terror! May God deny His blessing to those days that once exalted me, for folded in that honor lay disgrace. My purpose has failed, my hopes are severed; exile can tear one limb from limb. You who pass the house where my beloved dwells, tell him from me that my tears fall unceasingly.” When the Bedouin heard her poetry, he softened toward her and was moved to pity. He rose, wiped away her tears, gave her a cake of barley bread, and said, “I do not like anyone answering me when I am angry. From now on, do not answer me with such foul language. I shall sell you to a good man like myself, who will treat you kindly, just as I have.” She replied, “That would be well done.” As the night dragged on and hunger burned within her, she ate a little of the barley cake. At midnight the Bedouin ordered his companions to set out. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-sixth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that when the Bedouin gave Nuzhat al-Zaman the barley cake and promised to sell her to a good man like himself, she replied, “That would be well done.” At midnight, tormented by hunger, she ate a little of the barley cake. Then the Bedouin ordered his companions to depart. They loaded the camels, and he mounted one, seated Nuzhat al-Zaman behind him, and set off. They traveled for three days until they entered Damascus and took lodgings at the Sultan’s Inn beside the palace gate. Fear and the hardships of the journey had altered Nuzhat al-Zaman’s complexion, and she began to weep over her plight. The Bedouin came up to her and said, “You city girl, by my pointed cap, if you do not stop this crying, I shall sell you to no one but a Jew!” Then he rose, took her by the hand, and led her into a room. He went to the market and approached the merchants who traded in slave girls. After speaking with them, he said, “I have a slave girl whom I brought with me. Her brother is ill, so I sent him to my family in Jerusalem for them to nurse him until he recovers. I wish to sell her. Ever since her brother fell ill she has been crying, and parting from him has distressed her. I want whoever buys her to speak gently to her and say, ‘Your brother is ill at my house in Jerusalem.’ In return, I shall reduce her price.” One of the merchants rose and asked, “How old is she?” He replied, “She is a young virgin of marriageable age, intelligent, well-mannered, perceptive, and beautiful. Since I sent her brother to Jerusalem, she has been so troubled about him that her beauty has faded and she has lost her plumpness.”

When the merchant heard this, he walked along with the Bedouin and said, “Know, sheikh of the Arabs, that I will go with you and buy this girl whose intelligence, accomplishments, and beauty you praise so highly. I shall pay her price, but I shall impose certain conditions. If you accept them, I shall pay you in cash; if you do not, I shall return her to you.” The Bedouin replied, “If you wish, take her up to the Sultan and impose whatever conditions you please. If you bring her before King Sharkan, son of King Umar al-Numan, lord of Baghdad and Khurasan, she may take his fancy, and he will pay you for her and give you a handsome profit.” The merchant said, “I have a request to make of the Sultan: that he write to his father Umar al-Numan, commending me to his favor. If he accepts the girl from me, I shall weigh out her price to you at once.” “I accept that condition,” said the Bedouin. The two walked on until they reached the place where Nuzhat al-Zaman was staying. The Bedouin stood at the door of the room and called, “Najiya!”—for that was the name he had given her. When she heard him, she wept and did not answer. He turned to the merchant and said, “There she sits before you. Go to her, look at her, and speak kindly to her, as I told you.” The merchant approached and saw that she was of exquisite beauty and loveliness, and moreover was versed in the Arabic tongue. He said, “If she is as you have described, I shall gain through her what I seek from the Sultan.” Then he said to her, “Peace be upon you, daughter. How are you?” She turned toward him and said, “That was inscribed in the Book.” Looking at him, she saw a dignified man with a kindly face and said to herself, “I think he has come to buy me.” Then she thought, “If I refuse him, I shall remain with this tyrant, who will beat me to death. Whatever happens, this man has a kindly face, and there is more hope of goodness in him than in this coarse Bedouin. Perhaps he has come only to hear me speak, so I shall answer him graciously.” All this while her eyes were lowered to the ground. Then she raised them to him and said sweetly, “And upon you be peace, and God’s mercy and blessings, my lord. Such is the greeting the Prophet, blessings and peace be upon him, commanded. As for your question about my condition, if you wish to know it, wish it upon none but your enemies.” Then she fell silent. When the merchant heard her words, he was beside himself with delight. He turned to the Bedouin and asked, “What is her price? She is a lady of distinction.” The Bedouin grew angry and said, “You have spoiled the girl for me with this talk! Why do you call her a lady of distinction when she is nothing but common rabble? I will not sell her to you.”

Hearing this, the merchant realized that the man had little sense. “Set your mind at rest and be content,” he said. “I shall buy her despite the fault you mention.” The Bedouin asked, “How much will you give me for her?” The merchant replied, “Only a child’s father gives it a name. Ask whatever price you have in mind.” “You must speak first,” said the Bedouin. The merchant said to himself, “This Bedouin is a coarse, stubborn fool. I do not know what she is worth, but her eloquence and beauty have captured my heart. If she can read and write as well, that would complete the blessing both for her and for whoever buys her. Yet this Bedouin has no notion of her value.” Then he turned to him and said, “Sheikh of the Arabs, I shall pay you two hundred dinars, clear into your hand, besides the brokerage and the Sultan’s dues.” The Bedouin flew into a terrible rage and shouted, “Get up and be on your way! If you offered me two hundred dinars for this scrap of cloak she is wearing, I would not sell it to you. I shall not sell her at all. I shall keep her to tend the camels and grind flour.” Then he shouted at her, “Come here, you stinking thing! I will not sell you.” Turning back to the merchant, he said, “I thought you were a man of judgment. By my pointed cap, if you do not leave me alone, I shall say things you will not care to hear.” The merchant thought, “This Bedouin is mad and has no idea what she is worth. I shall say nothing more about her price just now. If he had any sense, he would not swear by his pointed cap. By God, she is worth a treasury of jewels, and I do not have her price. Still, if he names his demand, I shall give it to him, even if it takes all I possess.” Then he said to the Bedouin, “Sheikh of the Arabs, be patient and tell me: what clothes of hers do you have?” The Bedouin replied, “What would this wretched slave girl want with clothes? By God, even the cloak she is wrapped in is too much for her.” The merchant said, “With your permission, I shall uncover her face and examine her, as people examine slave girls they intend to buy.” The Bedouin replied, “Do as you please. May God preserve your youth! Examine her outside and in. If you wish, strip off her clothes and look at her naked.” “God forbid!” said the merchant. “I shall look only at her face.” Then he approached her, abashed by her beauty and loveliness. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the fifty-seventh night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the merchant approached Nuzhat al-Zaman, abashed by her beauty, sat beside her, and said, “My lady, what is your name?” She replied, “Do you ask my name in these times, or the name I bore before?” “Have you a new name and an old one?” he asked. “Yes,” she said. “My old name was Nuzhat al-Zaman, Delight of the Age. My new name is Ghussat al-Zaman, Anguish of the Age.” When the merchant heard these words, his eyes filled with tears, and he asked, “Have you a sick brother?” “Yes, by God, my lord,” she replied. “But time has parted us, and he lies ill in Jerusalem.” The merchant marveled at the sweetness of her speech and said to himself, “The Bedouin spoke the truth.” Then Nuzhat al-Zaman remembered her brother, his sickness and exile, and how she had been parted from him while he was weak, not knowing what had become of him. She recalled all that had happened to her with the Bedouin, and how far she was from her mother, her father, and her kingdom. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and, weeping freely, she recited these verses:

“Wherever you may be, may my God protect you, O wanderer who dwells within my heart. Wherever you have found a home, may God be your guardian against the turns of fortune and calamity. You are gone, and my eyes are desolate without you; my tears pour down in torrents. If only I knew in what land and dwelling you have settled, in what house or mountain vale. If you drink the water of life from a fresh and verdant spring, tears are the drink allotted me. If ever you enjoy repose, the embers of my sleeplessness lie between my bed and side. All things but parting from you are easy for my heart to bear; no other hardship seems a hardship.” When the merchant heard her verses, he wept and stretched out his hand to wipe the tears from her cheek. She covered her face and said, “Far be it from you, my lord!” The Bedouin sat watching her cover her face from the merchant as he tried to wipe her tears away, and supposed she was refusing to let him examine her. He sprang up and ran toward her, carrying a camel’s halter, which he raised and brought down upon her shoulders. The blow was so fierce that she fell face-first to the ground. A pebble struck her eyebrow and split it open, and blood streamed down her face. She gave a terrible scream and fainted. She wept, and the merchant wept with her, saying, “I must buy this girl, even for her weight in gold, and deliver her from this tyrant.” He began abusing the Bedouin while she lay unconscious. When she came to herself, she wiped the tears and blood from her face, bound up her head, raised her eyes to heaven, and appealed to her Lord with a sorrowful heart, reciting these two verses:

“Pity a woman once held dear, now humbled by oppression! She weeps with streaming tears and says, ‘Against what is ordained there is no remedy.’” When she had finished her verses, she turned to the merchant and said in a faint voice, “For God’s sake, do not leave me with this tyrant, who has no fear of Almighty God. If I spend this night with him, I shall kill myself with my own hands. Deliver me from him, and may God deliver you from all you fear in this world and the next.” The merchant rose and said to the Bedouin, “O sheikh of the Arabs, this girl is not suited to you. Sell her to me for whatever price you wish.” The Bedouin replied, “Take her and pay her price, or I shall carry her off to the encampment and leave her there to gather camel dung and tend the camels.” “I will give you fifty thousand dinars,” said the merchant. “May God grant a better offer,” said the Bedouin. “Seventy thousand dinars,” said the merchant. “May God grant a better offer,” replied the Bedouin. “That does not cover what she cost me. She has eaten ninety thousand dinars’ worth of barley cakes in my keeping.” The merchant said, “You and your family and your whole tribe have not eaten a thousand dinars’ worth of barley in all your lives! But I shall make you one final offer. If you refuse it, I shall give word to the governor of Damascus, and he will take her from you by force.” “Speak,” said the Bedouin. “One hundred thousand dinars.” “I sell her to you at that price,” said the Bedouin, “and I shall count it as money spent on salt.” The merchant laughed when he heard this, went home, fetched the money, and paid it over. The Bedouin took it, saying to himself, “I must go to Jerusalem. Perhaps I shall find her brother, bring him here, and sell him.” He mounted and traveled until he reached Jerusalem, then went to the inn and asked after her brother, but could not find him.

Such was his case. As for the merchant and Nuzhat al-Zaman, when he had taken possession of her, he covered her with some of his own clothes and brought her home. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the fifty-eighth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that when the merchant received the girl from the Bedouin, he covered her with some of his own clothes, brought her home, and dressed her in the finest garments. Then he took her down to the market and bought jewelry for her, which he placed in a satin bundle. He set it before her and said, “All this is for you. I ask only that when I bring you before the sovereign who governs Damascus, you tell him the price I paid for you, though it is little enough for even your fingernail. If he buys you from me, tell him how I have treated you, and ask him to give me a royal letter recommending me to his father, King Umar al-Numan, lord of Baghdad, so that he may forbid anyone to levy a duty upon my cloth or any other goods in which I trade.” When she heard his words, she wept and sobbed. The merchant said, “My lady, I see that whenever I mention Baghdad, your eyes fill with tears. Have you someone dear to you there? If he is a merchant or anyone else, tell me, for I know all its merchants and many others besides. If you wish to send a message, I will deliver it to him.” She replied, “By God, I know no merchant or anyone of that kind. The person I know is King Umar al-Numan, lord of Baghdad.”

When the merchant heard this, he laughed in great delight and said to himself, “By God, I have gained what I wanted!” Then he asked her, “Have you been presented to him before?” She said, “No, I was brought up by him, for I am his daughter. I was dear to him and held in great honor. If you wish King Umar al-Numan to write you the order you desire, bring me ink and paper, and I will write you a letter. When you enter Baghdad, deliver it with your own hand into his, and say, ‘Your slave Nuzhat al-Zaman has been assailed by the vicissitudes of night and day until she has been sold from place to place, and she sends you her greetings.’ If he asks you about me, tell him that I am with the viceroy of Damascus.” The merchant marveled at her eloquence and grew still fonder of her. He said, “I can only suppose that men have played upon your wits and sold you for money. Do you know the Quran by heart?” She replied, “Yes. I also know philosophy and medicine, the Introduction to Knowledge, and the sage Galen’s commentary on the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, upon which I too have written a commentary. I have read the Tadhkira and expounded the Demonstration. I have studied Ibn al-Baytar’s Simple Medicines and discussed Ibn Sina’s Canon. I have deciphered symbols, drawn figures, discoursed on geometry, and mastered the science of the human body. I have read the books of the Shafi‘i school, studied the traditions of the Prophet and grammar, debated with scholars, and discoursed upon every branch of learning. I have written works on logic and rhetoric, arithmetic and disputation. I know spiritual sciences and the reckoning of time, and have understood all these disciplines.” Then she said, “Bring me ink and paper, and I will write you a letter that will comfort you on your journeys and spare you volumes of books.” When the merchant heard these words, he cried, “Excellent, excellent! How fortunate the man whose palace shelters you!” Then he brought her ink, paper, and a brass pen. Having set them before her, he kissed the ground in reverence. Nuzhat al-Zaman took the scroll and the pen and wrote these verses:

“Why has sleep fled from my eyes? Was it you who taught them wakefulness after your departure? Why does remembrance of you kindle fire within my breast? Is this the fate of every lover when love is recalled? May blessings rain upon our days—how sweet they were! They passed before I had my fill of their delights. I plead with the wind, for the wind bears tidings from your dwelling to a heart enslaved by love. A lover with few to aid him brings his complaint to you; parting has sorrows that would split a stone.” When she had finished writing these verses, she added the following words: “From one whom brooding thoughts have mastered and sleeplessness has wasted, whose darkness finds no light, who cannot tell night from day; who tosses upon the beds of separation and paints her eyes with the kohl of wakefulness; who keeps watch upon the stars and searches through the darkness. Thought and wasting grief have melted her away; the account of her suffering would be long, and she has no helpers but her tears.” Then she recited these verses:

“Never does a gray dove sing upon a bough before the dawn but deadly grief awakens in my heart. Never does a yearning lover sigh in longing for the beloved but my sorrow grows. I complain of love to one who has no pity for me. How often has longing torn the soul from the body!” Then her eyes overflowed, and she wrote these two verses as well:

“On the day of parting, love wore down my body with sorrow, and separation parted my eyelids from sleep. Enough of wasting sickness in this frame! Had I not spoken to you, you would not have seen me.” Then, at the foot of the scroll, she wrote: “From one far from family and homeland, sorrowful in heart and soul: Nuzhat al-Zaman.” She rolled up the scroll and handed it to the merchant, who took it, kissed it, and learned its contents. He rejoiced and said, “Glory be to Him who fashioned you!” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the fifty-ninth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Nuzhat al-Zaman wrote the letter and handed it to the merchant. He took it, read it, and understood its contents, then said, “Glory be to Him who fashioned you!” He treated her with still greater honor and spent the whole day showing her kindness. When night fell, he went to the market, brought back something for her to eat, and fed her. Then he took her to the bathhouse and engaged a bathwoman for her, saying, “When you have finished washing her hair, dress her and send word to let me know.” “I hear and obey,” she replied. He brought food, fruit, and candles and set them on the raised platform of the bathhouse. When the bathwoman had finished cleansing her, she dressed her, and when Nuzhat al-Zaman came out of the bath and sat on the platform, she found the meal ready. She and the bathwoman ate some of the food and fruit and left the rest for the bathhouse attendant. She spent the night there until morning, while the merchant slept apart from her in another place. When he awoke, he roused Nuzhat al-Zaman and brought her a fine shift, a headdress worth a thousand dinars, a Turkish suit embroidered with gold, and slippers embroidered with red gold and set with pearls and jewels. He put pearl earrings worth a thousand dinars in her ears, a gold collar around her neck, and an amber necklace that hung below her breasts and above her navel. This necklace had ten spheres and nine crescents, each crescent bearing a ruby at its center, and each sphere a spinel. It was worth three thousand dinars, so that the whole outfit he had provided cost a vast sum of money. Then he bade her adorn herself, and she dressed with the utmost splendor. She set out, with the merchant walking before her. When people saw her, they were dazzled by her beauty and said, “Blessed be God, the best of creators! Fortunate is the man who has this woman in his keeping!”

The merchant walked on with her following behind until he came before King Sharkan. Entering, he kissed the ground before him and said, “O fortunate king, I have brought you a gift of wondrous qualities, unequaled in this age, combining beauty with excellence.” The king replied, “I wish to see her with my own eyes.” The merchant went out and brought her in, setting her before him. When King Sharkan saw her, blood yearned toward blood. She had been parted from him while still a little child, and he had never seen her, for some time after her birth he had heard that he had a sister called Nuzhat al-Zaman and a brother called Daw al-Makan, and had been bitterly angry with his father out of jealousy for the kingdom, as has already been related. When the merchant presented her, he said, “O king of the age, besides her marvelous beauty and loveliness, in which she has no equal in her time, she knows all the religious and worldly sciences, politics and mathematics.” The king said, “Take the price you paid for her, leave her here, and go your way.” The merchant replied, “I hear and obey. But write me an order that I shall never pay a tithe upon my merchandise.” “I will do so,” said the king, “but tell me how much you paid for her.” He answered, “I paid one hundred thousand dinars for her, and spent another hundred thousand upon her clothing.” When the king heard this, he said, “I will give you more than that for her.” He summoned his treasurer and said, “Give this merchant three hundred and twenty thousand dinars.” Then Sharkan summoned the four judges and said to them, “I call you to witness that I have freed this slave girl of mine and wish to marry her.” The judges drew up a deed of emancipation, then her marriage contract with him. The king scattered much gold over the heads of those present, and the pages and servants began gathering up the gold he had showered upon them. Then he ordered a decree to be drawn up for the merchant exactly as he desired, exempting his merchandise from the tithe and forbidding anyone throughout his kingdom to harm or molest him. After this, he ordered a splendid robe of honor for him. And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the sixtieth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that the king ordered a decree to be drawn up for the merchant exactly as he desired, declaring that he should never pay a tithe upon his merchandise and that no one should molest him in his trade. After this, he ordered a splendid robe of honor for him, then dismissed all those present except the judges and the merchant. He said to the judges, “I wish you to hear from this girl’s own lips something that demonstrates her learning and refinement in all the subjects the merchant has claimed for her, so that we may establish the truth of his words.” They replied, “There is no objection.” He ordered a curtain to be lowered between himself and his companions on one side and the girl and her attendants on the other. All the women with the girl behind the curtain began kissing her hands and feet when they learned that she had become the king’s wife. They gathered about her, waited upon her, and relieved her of some of her garments, gazing at her beauty and loveliness. The wives of the emirs and viziers heard that King Sharkan had bought a girl unequaled in beauty, learning, and refinement, who had mastered every science; that he had paid three hundred and twenty thousand dinars for her, freed her, married her, and summoned the four judges to examine her and see how she answered their questions. The women sought their husbands’ permission and went to the palace where Nuzhat al-Zaman was staying. When they entered, they found the servants standing before her. At the sight of the emirs’ and viziers’ wives coming in, she rose to meet them, with her slave girls standing behind her, and received them with smiles and gracious welcomes. She won their hearts and seated them according to their rank as though she had been brought up among them. They marveled at her beauty and loveliness, her intelligence and refinement, and said to one another, “This is no slave girl, but a queen, the daughter of a king.” They began paying her the greatest respect, saying, “Our lady, you have brought light to our city and honor to our land and kingdom. The kingdom is yours, the palace is yours, and we are all your handmaids. For God’s sake, do not deprive us of your kindness or the sight of your beauty.” She thanked them for their words.

All this while, the curtain remained lowered between Nuzhat al-Zaman and the women with her, and King Sharkan, the four judges, and the merchant. Then King Sharkan called to her, saying, “O girl, precious among the women of your age, this merchant has described your learning and refinement, claiming that you know every science, even the science of the stars. Let us hear a little of each branch.” When she heard him, she replied, “I hear and obey, O king. The first branch concerns government and royal conduct, what is required of those entrusted with lawful authority, and the praiseworthy qualities they must possess. Know, O king, that the aims of mankind come down to religion and worldly life, for no one can attain religion except through this world. This world is an excellent road to the next, and its affairs can be ordered only through the work of those who inhabit it. Human occupations fall into four divisions: government, commerce, agriculture, and crafts. Government requires consummate statesmanship and sound discernment, for upon government depends the flourishing of this world, which is the road to the next. Almighty God has made this world for His servants like provisions for a traveler seeking his destination. Every person should therefore take from it only enough to bring him to God, without following his passions and desires. If people took their shares justly, disputes would cease. But they take them unjustly, pursuing their desires, and their avid pursuit gives rise to quarrels. Thus they need a sovereign to judge fairly between them and regulate their affairs. Were it not for the king’s restraint of one person from another, the strong would overpower the weak. Ardashir said, ‘Religion and kingship are twins: religion is a treasure, and kingship its guardian.’ Both sacred law and reason establish that people must appoint a sovereign to protect the oppressed from the oppressor, secure justice for the weak against the strong, and curb the violence of the arrogant and rebellious.

“Know, O king, that the character of an age reflects the goodness of its sovereign’s character. The Messenger of God, may God bless him and grant him peace, said, ‘There are two classes among the people: if they are sound, the people are sound, and if they are corrupt, the people are corrupt—the scholars and the rulers.’ One of the sages said, ‘Kings are of three kinds: a king of religion, a king who safeguards sacred obligations, and a king of passion.’ As for the king of religion, he requires his subjects to follow their faith, and he ought to be the most devout among them, for he is their example in religious matters. People must obey him in whatever he commands that accords with sacred law; through submission to what is ordained, he brings the discontented to the condition of the contented. As for the king who safeguards sacred obligations, he attends to the affairs of religion and the world, obliging people to follow the law and preserve honorable conduct. He unites the pen and the sword: whoever strays from what the pen has set down loses his footing, and the king straightens his crookedness with the sword’s edge and spreads justice among all mankind. As for the king of passion, he has no religion but obedience to his desires and no fear of the might of his Lord, who granted him authority. His kingdom ends in ruin, and his arrogance leads to the abode of perdition. The sages have said, ‘A king needs many people, while they need only one.’ For that reason he must understand their characters, so that he may turn their discord into harmony, encompass them with his justice, and overwhelm them with his bounty.

“Know, O king, that Ardashir, the third of the kings of Persia, ruled all the regions of the world and divided them into four departments. For this purpose he had four signet rings made, one for each department. The first was the seal of maritime affairs, policing, and defense, and he engraved upon it ‘Delegated Authority.’ The second was the seal of land tax and revenue, and he engraved upon it ‘Prosperity.’ The third was the seal of provisions, and he engraved upon it ‘Abundance.’ The fourth was the seal of the redress of grievances, and he engraved upon it ‘Justice.’ These practices continued among the Persians until the rise of Islam. Chosroes wrote to his son while he was with his army, ‘Do not lavish so much upon your soldiers that they have no need of you.’” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the sixty-first night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Chosroes wrote to his son while he was with his army, “Do not lavish so much upon your soldiers that they have no need of you, nor stint them so severely that they grow weary of you. Give them a measured allowance and handsome gifts. Be generous with them in times of prosperity, and do not straiten them in times of hardship.” It is related that a Bedouin came to al-Mansur and said, “Keep your dog hungry, and he will follow you.” When al-Mansur heard this, he grew angry with the Bedouin. Abu al-Abbas al-Tusi said, “I fear that someone else may hold out a loaf to him, and he will follow that man and leave you.” Al-Mansur’s anger subsided; he recognized the truth of the saying and ordered a gift for the Bedouin.

“Know, O king, that Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan wrote to his brother Abd al-Aziz ibn Marwan when he sent him to Egypt, ‘Watch over your secretaries and chamberlains. Those who remain learn of you through your secretaries; those who seek to judge you know you through your chamberlains; and those who leave your presence know you through your soldiers.’ Whenever Umar ibn al-Khattab appointed a man to his service, he imposed four conditions upon him: that he should not ride fine horses, wear costly clothes, eat from the public spoils, or delay prayer beyond its appointed time. It has been said: There is no wealth better than intelligence, no intelligence like prudent and resolute judgment, no resolution like piety, no means of drawing near to God like good character, no measure like refinement, no gain like divine guidance, no commerce like good works, no profit like God’s reward, no scrupulousness like keeping within the bounds of the Prophet’s practice, no knowledge like reflection, no worship like the prescribed duties, no faith like modesty, no distinction of birth like humility, and no nobility like learning. Guard the head and what it holds, the belly and what it contains, and remember death and affliction. Ali said, ‘Beware of wicked women and be on your guard against them. Do not consult them in your affairs, nor deny them reasonable kindness, lest they be tempted to intrigue.’ He also said, ‘Whoever abandons moderation leaves his reason bewildered.’ Umar, may God be pleased with him, said, ‘Women are of three kinds: a devout Muslim woman, loving and fruitful, who helps her husband against the hardships of life and does not help those hardships against him; another who is wanted for children and nothing more; and another whom God makes a shackle about the neck of whomever He wills. Men, too, are of three kinds: an intelligent man who follows his own sound judgment; another more intelligent than he, who, when faced with a matter whose outcome he cannot foresee, goes to men of judgment and abides by their counsel; and a third who is bewildered, knows no right course, and will not obey a guide.’ Justice is indispensable in all things; even slave girls have need of justice. An example is found among highway robbers, who live by wronging others: if they did not deal fairly with one another and observe what is due when dividing their spoils, their fellowship would fall apart. In short, the foremost noble qualities are generosity and good character. How well the poet said:

“‘Through giving and forbearance a young man became chief among his people; to become like him is easy for you.’ Another said, ‘In forbearance there is sanctity, in forgiveness majesty, and in truth salvation for the truthful. Whoever seeks fair praise by means of his wealth shall, through generosity, lead the race for glory.’” Nuzhat al-Zaman continued discoursing on the government of kings until those present said, “We have never seen anyone speak on government as this girl does. Perhaps she will let us hear something on another subject.” Nuzhat al-Zaman heard and understood them, and said, “As for the branch of conduct and refinement, its field is broad, for it embraces every perfection. It happened that the Banu Tamim came as a delegation to Muawiya, with al-Ahnaf ibn Qays among them. Muawiya’s chamberlain entered to ask permission for them to come in, saying, ‘Commander of the Faithful, the people of Iraq wish to enter and speak with you. Hear what they have to say.’ Muawiya said, ‘See who is at the door.’ They replied, ‘The Banu Tamim.’ ‘Let them enter,’ he said. They entered, with al-Ahnaf ibn Qays among them, and Muawiya said to him, ‘Come close to me, Abu Bahr, so that I can hear you speak.’ Then he asked, ‘Abu Bahr, what advice have you for me?’ He replied, ‘Commander of the Faithful, part your hair, trim your mustache, clip your nails, pluck the hair from your armpits, shave your pubic hair, and use the tooth-stick constantly, for it has seventy-two virtues. The Friday bath atones for what passes between one Friday and the next.’” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the sixty-second night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that al-Ahnaf ibn Qays said to Muawiya, in answer to his question, “Use the tooth-stick constantly, for it has seventy-two virtues. The Friday bath atones for what passes between one Friday and the next.” Muawiya asked him, “How do you conduct yourself?” He replied, “I plant my feet upon the earth, move them deliberately, and watch where they fall.” “How do you conduct yourself when you enter a gathering of your people who are not rulers?” “I lower my gaze in modesty, offer the greeting first, leave alone what does not concern me, and speak little.” “How do you conduct yourself when you enter among your equals?” “I listen when they speak, and do not fly at them when they grow agitated.” “How do you conduct yourself when you enter the presence of your rulers?” “I give the greeting without a gesture and wait for the reply. If they draw me near, I approach; if they keep me at a distance, I remain apart.” “How do you conduct yourself with your wife?” “Spare me that question, Commander of the Faithful.” “I adjure you to tell me.” “I treat her kindly, show her affection, and provide generously for her, for woman was created from a crooked rib.” “And how do you proceed when you wish to lie with her?” “I talk to her until she is at ease and kiss her until she is stirred. Then, when what you know has come to pass, I lay her upon her back. If the seed settles in its resting place, I say, ‘O God, make it blessed and not wretched, and fashion it in the fairest form.’ Then I rise from her to wash, pour water over my hands and then over my body, and praise God for the blessings He has granted me.” Muawiya said, “You have answered well. Now state your wish.” He replied, “My wish is that you fear God in your dealings with your subjects and dispense justice equally among them.” Then he rose from Muawiya’s gathering. When he had gone, Muawiya said, “If Iraq had no one but this man, he would suffice.”

Then Nuzhat al-Zaman said, “This is a brief selection from the branch of conduct and refinement. Know, O king, that Muayqib was an official of the treasury during the caliphate of Umar ibn al-Khattab.” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the sixty-third night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Nuzhat al-Zaman said, “Know, O king, that Muayqib was an official of the treasury during the caliphate of Umar ibn al-Khattab. One day he happened to see Umar’s son and gave him a dirham from the treasury. Muayqib said, ‘After giving him the dirham, I went home. As I was sitting there, a messenger from Umar arrived. I was frightened and went to him, and there was the dirham in his hand. He said to me, “Woe to you, Muayqib! I have discovered something troubling in you.” I asked, “What is that, Commander of the Faithful?” He said, “You will have to dispute with the whole community of Muhammad, may God bless him and grant him peace, over this dirham on the Day of Resurrection.”’ Umar wrote to Abu Musa al-Ashari a letter saying, ‘When this letter reaches you, give the people what is due to them and send me what remains.’ He did so. When Uthman became caliph, he wrote to Abu Musa in the same terms, and Abu Musa obeyed, with Ziyad accompanying the payment. When he placed the revenue before Uthman, one of Uthman’s sons came and took a dirham from it. Ziyad wept, and Uthman asked, ‘What makes you weep?’ He replied, ‘I brought Umar ibn al-Khattab a payment like this, and when his son took a dirham, he ordered it to be taken from his hand. Your son has taken one, and I have seen no one take it from him or say anything to him.’ Uthman said, ‘Where will you find another like Umar?’

“Zayd ibn Aslam related that his father said, ‘One night I went out with Umar until we caught sight of a blazing fire. He said, “Aslam, I think these are travelers suffering from the cold. Let us go to them.” We went over and found a woman kindling a fire beneath a pot, with children crying beside her. Umar said, “Peace be upon you, people of the light”—for he disliked saying “people of the fire”—“what is your trouble?” She replied, “The cold and the night have afflicted us.” He asked, “Why are these little ones crying?” “From hunger,” she said. “What is in this pot?” “Something to quiet them with. God will question Umar ibn al-Khattab about them on the Day of Resurrection.” He said, “How is Umar to know of their condition?” She replied, “How can he take charge of the people’s affairs and neglect them?”’ Aslam said, ‘Umar turned to me and said, “Let us go.” We hurried away until we came to the storehouse, where he brought out a sack of flour and a vessel of fat. Then he said, “Load this upon my back.” I said, “I will carry it for you, Commander of the Faithful.” He replied, “Will you carry my burden of sin for me on the Day of Resurrection?” So I loaded it upon him, and we hurried back until we set the sack down beside the woman. He took out some flour and began saying to her, “Keep passing it to me.” He blew beneath the pot, and his beard was so thick that I saw the smoke escaping through it as he cooked. Then he took some fat and dropped it in, saying, “Feed them, and I will cool it for them.” They continued until the children had eaten their fill, and he left the remainder with her. Then he turned to me and said, “Aslam, I saw that hunger had made them weep, and I wished not to leave until I had learned the cause of the light I saw.”’” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the sixty-fourth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Nuzhat al-Zaman said, “It is related that Umar passed a shepherd who was a slave and asked him to sell him a sheep. The man replied, ‘It is not mine.’ Umar said, ‘You are the one I want.’ He bought him and set him free, saying, ‘O God, as You have granted me this lesser act of deliverance, grant me the greater deliverance.’ It is also related that Umar ibn al-Khattab gave milk to the servants while he ate coarse food, clothed them in soft garments while he wore rough ones, gave people their due, and increased their allowances. He gave one man four thousand dirhams and added another thousand. Someone asked him, ‘Will you not increase your son’s allowance as you have increased this man’s?’ He replied, ‘This man’s father stood firm on the day of Uhud.’ Al-Hasan said, ‘A great sum of money was brought to Umar, and Hafsa came to him, saying, “Commander of the Faithful, remember the rights of your kin.” He replied, “Hafsa, God has enjoined me to honor my kin’s claims upon my own wealth, not upon the wealth of the Muslims. Hafsa, you have pleased your people and angered your father.” She rose and went away, trailing her skirts.’ Ibn Umar said, ‘For a whole year I pleaded with my Lord to let me see my father, until I saw him wiping the sweat from his sides. I asked, “How fares it with you, Father?” He replied, “Had it not been for my Lord’s mercy, your father would have perished.”’

Then Nuzhat al-Zaman said, “Hear, O fortunate king, the second section of the second branch, concerning conduct and virtues, and the accounts related therein of the Followers and the righteous. Al-Hasan al-Basri said, ‘No child of Adam leaves this world without regretting three things: that he did not enjoy what he amassed, that he did not attain what he hoped for, and that he did not prepare abundant provisions for what awaits him.’ Sufyan was asked, ‘Can a man be an ascetic while possessing wealth?’ He answered, ‘Yes, if he is patient when tried and grateful when given.’ It is related that when death approached Abd Allah ibn Shaddad, he summoned his son Muhammad and gave him counsel, saying, ‘My son, I see that the caller of death has summoned me. Fear your Lord in secret and in public, thank God for His blessings, and speak truthfully. Gratitude heralds an increase in blessings, and piety is the best provision for the life to come, as someone has said:

“‘I do not hold that happiness is the amassing of wealth; the truly happy man is he who fears God. The fear of God is indeed the best provision, and with God you will find what you desire.’” Then Nuzhat al-Zaman said, “Let the king hear these choice accounts from the second section of the first branch.” She was asked, “What are they?” She replied, “When Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz became caliph, he turned to his own family, took what was in their hands, and placed it in the treasury. The Umayyads appealed in alarm to his aunt Fatima bint Marwan, who sent him word, saying, ‘I must meet with you.’ She came to him by night, and he helped her down from her mount. When she was seated, he said, ‘Aunt, it is for you to speak first, since it is you who have a request. Tell me what you wish.’ She replied, ‘Commander of the Faithful, it is for you to speak first, for your judgment discerns what is hidden from other minds.’ Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz said, ‘Almighty God sent Muhammad as a mercy to all the worlds and a punishment to other people. Then He chose for him what was with Himself and took him to Himself.’” And dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the sixty-fifth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Nuzhat al-Zaman said, “Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz said, ‘God sent Muhammad as a mercy to all the worlds and a punishment to other people. Then He chose for him what was with Himself and took him to Himself, leaving the people a river to quench their thirst. Abu Bakr succeeded him as caliph, kept the river flowing in its course, and did what pleased God. Then Umar succeeded Abu Bakr, performing the finest deeds of the righteous and striving as no other could. When Uthman came to power, he diverted a stream from the river. Then Muawiya took power and diverted many streams from it. Thereafter Yazid and the sons of Marwan, such as Abd al-Malik, al-Walid, and Sulayman, continued diverting streams from it until authority passed to me, and I wished to restore the river to its former course.’ She replied, ‘I wished only to speak with you and exchange thoughts. If this is what you have to say, I shall say no more to you.’ She returned to the Umayyads and told them, ‘Taste the consequences of your marriage alliance with Umar ibn al-Khattab!’”

It is related that when Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz lay dying, he gathered his children around him. Maslama ibn Abd al-Malik said to him, “Commander of the Faithful, how can you leave your children poor when you are their guardian? No one could prevent you, while you are still alive, from giving them enough from the treasury to make them comfortable. Surely that would be better than leaving it to the governor who succeeds you.” Umar looked at Maslama in anger and astonishment, then said, “Maslama, I denied it to them during my lifetime; how, then, could I bring misery upon myself on their account after my death? My children must be one of two kinds: either obedient to God Most High, in which case God will set their affairs right, or disobedient, in which case I would never help them in their disobedience. Maslama, you and I were present when a certain man of the house of Marwan was buried. Afterward sleep overcame me, and I saw him in a dream, delivered into the judgment of Almighty God. What I saw so terrified and appalled me that I vowed to God that, if ever I held office, I would not act as he had acted. All my life I have striven to keep that vow, and I hope to meet with my Lord’s forgiveness.” Maslama said, “There was another man whose burial I attended. When I had finished burying him, sleep overcame me, and I saw him in a dream, in a meadow with flowing streams, dressed in white. He came toward me and said, ‘Maslama, for the like of this let those who strive exert themselves.’” Many such stories are told.

A trustworthy man said, “During the caliphate of Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz, I used to milk sheep. Once I passed a shepherd and saw a wolf, or several wolves, among his flock. I thought they were his dogs, for I had never seen wolves before, and asked, ‘What do you do with these dogs?’ He replied, ‘They are not dogs, but wolves.’ ‘Wolves among sheep, without harming them?’ I asked. He answered, ‘When the head is sound, the body is sound.’” Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz once mounted a pulpit made of clay to deliver a sermon. He praised and glorified God, then spoke these few words: “People, set your inward lives right, so that your outward dealings with your brethren may be right, and you may be spared anxiety over your worldly affairs. Know that between a man and Adam there is not one living man among all the dead. Abd al-Malik is dead, and those before him; Umar will die, and those after him.” Maslama said to him, “Commander of the Faithful, shall we make you a support, so that you may lean upon it for a little while?” He replied, “I fear that on the Day of Resurrection I may bear the burden of some sin on its account.” Then he gave a great gasp and fell unconscious. Fatima cried, “Maryam! Muzahim! You there! Come and look to this man!” She began pouring water over him and weeping until he recovered from his swoon. Seeing her weep, he asked, “What makes you weep, Fatima?” She answered, “Commander of the Faithful, when I saw you lying stricken before us, I thought of you lying before Almighty God, of your death, your departure from this world, and your parting from us. That is what made us weep.” He said, “Enough, Fatima. Your words have gone to my heart.” Then he tried to get up, but as he rose he fell again. Fatima clasped him to her and said, “May my father and mother be your ransom, Commander of the Faithful! None of us can bear to speak to you.”

Then Nuzhat al-Zaman said to her brother Sharkan and the four judges, “To continue the second chapter of the first section…” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the sixty-sixth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate king, that Nuzhat al-Zaman said to her brother Sharkan—whom she had not recognized—in the presence of the four judges and the merchant, “To continue the second chapter of the first section: Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz once wrote to those assembled for the pilgrimage: ‘To proceed: I call God to witness, in the sacred month, in the sacred city, and on the day of the greater pilgrimage, that I disclaim all part in the wrongs done to you and the aggression of those who have oppressed you, save where I myself ordered or intended such deeds, or where any such matter reached me or came within my knowledge; and for that I hope there may be forgiveness. Yet I have given no one leave to wrong another, for I am answerable for everyone who suffers injustice. Take heed: if any governor of mine departs from the truth and acts without warrant from the Book or the Sunna, you owe him no obedience until he returns to the truth.’ He also said—may God Most High be pleased with him—‘I would not wish the pangs of death to be lightened for me, for they are the last thing for which a believer receives a reward.’

“A trustworthy man related: ‘I visited Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz, Commander of the Faithful, while he was caliph, and saw twelve dirhams lying before him. He ordered that they be placed in the treasury. I said, “Commander of the Faithful, you have impoverished your children and left them dependants with nothing of their own. Could you not bequeath something to them, and to the poor among your family?” He said, “Come closer.” I drew near, and he said, “As for your saying that I have impoverished my children and should therefore make a bequest to them or to the poor among my family, that is not sound counsel. God will take my place in caring for my children and the poor of my household; He is their guardian. They must be one of two kinds: either a man who fears God, for whom God will provide a way out, or a man bent upon sin, whom I would never strengthen in disobedience to God.” Then he sent for his children and had them brought before him. There were twelve sons, and when he looked upon them his eyes overflowed with tears. He said, “Your father has a choice between two things: either you become rich and your father enters Hell, or you remain poor and your father enters Paradise. Your father would rather enter Paradise than see you rich. Go now; I have entrusted your affairs to God.”’

“Khalid ibn Safwan related: ‘Yusuf ibn Umar accompanied me on a visit to Hisham ibn Abd al-Malik. When I arrived, Hisham had gone out into the country with his kinsmen and servants and encamped on a stretch of land where tents had been pitched for him. Once everyone had taken his place, I stepped out at the edge of the carpet and looked toward him. When his eyes met mine, I said, “May God perfect His favor upon you, Commander of the Faithful, and grant you wisdom in the duties He has entrusted to you. May no sorrow mar your happiness. Commander of the Faithful, I can find no better counsel to offer you than an account of the kings who went before you.” He had been reclining, but now sat upright and said, “Tell us what you have to say, Ibn Safwan.” I said, “Commander of the Faithful, in a year before this year of yours, a king who preceded you came out to this very place. He said to his companions, ‘Have you ever seen anything to equal my present splendor? Has anyone ever been granted what I have been granted?’ With him was one of the few remaining men who upheld the proof of God, supported the truth, and walked in its path. He said, ‘O king, you have asked a weighty question. Will you permit me to answer it?’ ‘Yes,’ said the king. The man asked, ‘Tell me: is this state of yours something that has always endured, or something that will pass away?’ ‘Something that will pass away,’ he replied. ‘Why, then,’ said the man, ‘do I see you so delighted with a thing you will enjoy so briefly, yet be questioned about at such length, and for which you will be held to account?’ The king asked, ‘Where, then, is escape? What course should I seek?’ He replied, ‘Either remain in your kingdom and govern in obedience to God Most High, or put on your threadbare clothes and worship your Lord until your appointed hour comes. I shall return to you before dawn.’”’ Khalid ibn Safwan continued: ‘Before dawn the man knocked at the king’s door and found that he had laid aside his crown and prepared to wander the earth, so deeply had the admonition moved him. At this, Hisham ibn Abd al-Malik wept so bitterly that his beard was soaked. He ordered his finery removed and shut himself away in his palace. His attendants and servants came to Khalid ibn Safwan and said, “Is this what you have done to the Commander of the Faithful? You have spoiled his pleasure and embittered his life!”’”

Then Nuzhat al-Zaman said to Sharkan, “How many counsels this section contains! I could never relate all that is in it at a single sitting.” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.