Part 28

After the emir had left the princes, he passed through the wood, where he dipped their clothes in the blood of the lion, and then continued his way to the capital of the Isle of Ebony. On his arrival, king Camaralzaman asked him if he had faithfully executed the orders he had received. “Sire,” replied Giondar, presenting the bloody habits of the two princes to him, “behold the proofs.”--“Inform me,” said the king, “in what manner they behaved on suffering the punishment I ordered to be inflicted on them.”--“They received it, sire,” answered Giondar, “with the most exemplary fortitude; and with such perfect resignation to the decrees of God, as fully proved the sincerity of their belief in their religion. Above all, they showed towards your majesty the greatest respect, and most entire submission to your order for their deaths. “We die innocent,” they exclaimed, “but we do not murmur at our fate. We receive our death from the hands of God, and we heartily forgive the king our father. We well know he is ignorant of the truth!” Camaralzaman was sensibly affected at the account given by Giondar. He then thought he would examine the clothes of his sons, and began by feeling in the pockets of Amgiad; where he found a letter, which he opened and read. No sooner did he discover, not only by the handwriting, but by a small lock of hair which was within side, that it came from queen Haiatalnefous, than he absolutely groaned aloud. He then, with trembling hands, examined those of prince Assad, and finding there the letter of queen Badoura, his astonishment had such a violent and sudden effect upon him, that he fainted.

Never did any one show greater signs of grief than did Camaralzaman when he recovered his senses. “What have you been guilty of, O barbarous father,” he exclaimed, “you have even destroyed your own offspring. Innocent sons! could not your sense, your modesty, your obedience, your entire submission to his wishes, nor even your virtues, defend you from his rage? Blind misguided parent, do you think that the earth ought even to bear you after so execrable a crime? I have brought this abomination on myself; and it is the punishment which God has inflicted upon me for not persevering in my hatred against women, which I possessed from my very birth. I will not, ye detestable women, wash away your crime with your blood; no, you are not even worthy of my anger: but may heaven itself pour destruction on my head if ever I see you again!”

The king kept his oath most religiously. He ordered, on the very same day, the two queens to be each conveyed to a separate apartment, where they always remained well guarded; and, during the rest of his life he never went near them.

While Camaralzaman was thus afflicting himself for the loss of the princes, his sons, of which he was himself the cause by his too precipitate conduct, the two princes wandered about the most desert places; endeavouring to avoid every trace of human habitations, for fear of meeting with any living being. They supported themselves upon herbs and wild fruits, and drank only bad rain water, which they found in the excavations and holes of rocks. And when night approached, they slept only by turns, in order to guard against wild beasts.

At the end of about a month, they came to the foot of a dreadfully steep mountain, composed entirely of a sort of black stone, and, as it appeared to them, quite inaccessible. At. length, however, they perceived a path; but they found it so narrow and difficult, that they durst not attempt to pursue it. Through the hopes of discovering another less rugged and steep, they kept coasting, as it were, round the foot of the mountain, for about five days. All the trouble, however, that they took, was to no purpose; and, they were compelled to return to the same path they had at first neglected. It appeared to them so absolutely impracticable, that they took a long time to consult whether they should attempt to ascend it or not. They, at last, encouraged each other, and began to mount.

The farther they advanced the higher and steeper the mountain seemed to be; and they were more than once tempted to abandon their enterprise. As soon as either perceived that the other was tired, he stopped; and they took breath together. Sometimes they were both so fatigued, that all their strength failed them; they then gave up all thoughts of proceeding, and expected to die through weariness, and the consequences of exertion. Then again in a little time, as their strength returned, they acquired fresh courage, animated each other, and resumed their way.

In spite, however, of all their diligence, their perseverance, and their exertions, they were unable to reach the summit while it was day. Night overtook them, and prince Assad found himself so fatigued and worn out, that he suddenly stopped. “My dear brother,” he said to Amgiad, “I can go no farther; but must die in this spot.”--“Let us rest ourselves here,” replied Amgiad, stopping at the same time, “as long as you please, and get fresh courage and strength. You may observe, that we have not much farther to ascend; and the moon will favor our progress.”

After having rested for above half an hour, Assad made a fresh effort; and they arrived at the summit of the mountain, where they again sat down for some time. Amgiad was the first to rise, and going a little forward, he observed a tree at a short distance. He went up, and found it to be a pomegranate-tree, the branches of which were almost borne down with the weight of the fruit. A fountain, or small stream, also washed the foot of the tree. He instantly ran to inform Assad of this good news, and led him to the border of the fountain under the tree. They refreshed themselves very much by eating a pomegranate, and then fell asleep.

The next morning when the princes awoke, Amgiad said to Assad, “Let us proceed, brother, on our way; I see this mountain is much less rugged and steep on this side than it was on the other, and we have now only to descend.” Assad, however, was so fatigued with the labors of the preceding day, that it required at least three days for him entirely to recover. They passed this time in conversation, as they had done on similar occasions; all their discourse, however, constantly related to the excessive and unnatural passions of their mothers, which had reduced them to so deplorable a state. “But,” said they, “if God has declared himself in our favor in so evident a manner, we ought to bear our misfortunes with patience, and to console ourselves with the hope that they will be one day at an end.”

The three days passed away, and the brothers then pursued their journey. As the mountain on this side did not form one regular descent, but was broken by some considerable surface of even ground several times before they could arrive at its base, it took them five days to reach the plain. They at length discovered a large city, the sight of which exceedingly delighted them, “Do you not think, my brother,” said Amgiad to Assad, “that it would be better for you to remain in some place without the town, where, on my return, I shall be able to find you, while I go and learn in what country we are, what is the name of the place, and what language is spoken there? When I come back, too, I will bring some fresh provisions with me. It is, therefore, I think, much the best that we do not go together, in case there should be any danger.”--“I highly approve of your opinion,” replied Assad, “it is both prudent and wise; but, my dear brother, if one of us must separate himself from the other for this purpose, I will never suffer you to be the person; you must permit me to undertake it. What agony should I not endure, were any accident to happen to you!”--“But, brother,” answered Amgiad, “ought not I to fear the very same thing on your account which you do for me? I entreat you, therefore, to suffer me to go; and do you wait patiently for me in this place.”--“I will never permit it,” said Assad, “and if any thing should happen to me, I shall, at least, have the consolation of knowing that you are in safety.” Amgiad was at length obliged to consent, and he sat down under some trees at the foot of the mountain.

Prince Assad took some money out of the purse, of which Amgiad had the charge, and continued his journey to the town. He had not walked far in the first street he came to, before he met with a venerable looking old man, well dressed, and with a cane in his hand. As he did not doubt but that he was a person of some consequence, and, therefore, one not likely to deceive him, he accosted him. “I shall be much obliged to you, sir,” said Assad, “if you will inform me which is the way to the market-place.”

The old man looked at the prince with a smiling countenance, and said to him, “My son, you seem to be a stranger; otherwise surely you would not put that question to me.”--“Yes, sir,” replied Assad, “I am indeed a stranger.”--“You are welcome,” added the old man, “and our country ought to esteem itself highly honored, that a young man of such an appearance as yours, takes the trouble to come and visit it. Pray inform me what business takes you to the public market-place?”--“Sir,” replied Assad, “it is near two months since my brother and I set out from a very distant country. We have been all this time on our journey, and arrived here only yesterday. My brother was so much fatigued with the length of the way, that he remains at the bottom of the mountain, while I am come to inquire about, and purchase some provisions for us both.”

“You could not possibly have arrived, my son,” replied the old man, “more opportunely, and I heartily rejoice at it, from my regard for you and your brother. I have this very day given a great entertainment to many of my friends, and there is a great quantity of provisions left untouched by any one. Come home, therefore, with me, and I will give you abundance to eat, and when you shall have satisfied yourself, I will add as much more as will be sufficient for yourself and brother for many days. You have no occasion, therefore, to take the trouble of going and spending your money in the market; travellers, you know, have seldom too much. Besides, while you are satisfying your hunger, I will inform you of all the peculiarities and customs of our city, which I am better able to do than most people. A person like me, who has been invested with all the most honorable offices with distinction and credit to himself, ought not to be ignorant of them. You may, indeed, think yourself particularly fortunate in having addressing yourself to me, in preference to any other person; for I am truly sorry to say, that all our inhabitants are not like myself; some of them, I assure you, are very wicked. Come then, and I will show you the difference between an honest man, as I am, and those who boast of their character without possessing any qualification to entitle them to a good one.”--“I am infinitely obliged to you,” answered prince Assad, “for the kindness and good intentions you express for me. I put myself entirely under your protection, and am ready to go wherever you please.”

The old man continued walking on, with the prince by his side, laughing in his sleeve all the time; and for fear Assad should perceive it, he conversed with him on many subjects, that he might continue to have the same good opinion of him he at first had formed. Among other things, he said, “I must confess to you, that it is a fortunate circumstance, that you addressed me in preference to any other person. I thank God that I have met you; you will know why I say this so earnestly when you have got to my house.”

The old man at length arrived at home, and introduced Assad into a large room, where he saw forty old men, sitting in a circle, round a lighted fire, to which they were paying their adorations. Prince Assad felt not less horror at thus seeing human beings, so far deprived of their reason, as to offer that reverence to the creature in preference to the Creator, than he experienced fear at seeing himself so deceived, and in such an abominable and wicked place.

While the prince stood quite motionless in the spot where he was, the artful old man, who had brought him, saluted the other forty. “Fervent and devout adorers of fire,” said he to them, “this is a most happy day for us. Where is Gazban?” added he, “let him come in.” As these words were spoken in a loud tone of voice, a black who heard them, without the room, immediately made his appearance. This black, who was in fact Gasban, no sooner perceived the disconsolate Assad, than he understood for what purpose he was called. He ran towards him, and with a blow that he gave him, knocked him down; he then bound his arms with the most surprising quickness. He had no sooner done this, than the old man called out, “Carry him below, and do not fail to tell my daughters, Bostana and Cavama, to take particular care, and give him enough of the bastinado every day, with only one piece of bread night and morning for him to subsist upon. This will be quite enough for his mere existence till the departure of the vessel for the blue sea, and the mountain of fire; we will offer him as a most acceptable sacrifice to our divinity.”

The old man had no sooner given these cruel orders, that Gazban seized Assad in the most rough and brutal manner, and made him go down under the room, and after leading him through several doors, they came to a dungeon, into which they descended by twenty steps, and in which the black fastened him by his legs to a large and very heavy chain. As soon as he had done this, Gazban went to inform the old man’s daughters; their father had, however, already spoken to them himself. “My daughters,” he said to them, “go down below, and bestow the bastinado in the manner you know that every mussulman, whom I make captive, ought to receive it; and do not spare him. You cannot, by any better means, evince, that you are true worshippers of fire.”

Bostana and Cavama, having been brought up with the greatest detestation of all mussulmen, accepted this office with joy. They immediately went down to the dungeon, and having stripped Assad, they beat him so inhumanly, that he was covered with blood, and at last fainted. After this merciless action, they placed a piece of bread and a jar of water by his side, and left him. It was a long time before the prince returned to his senses, and he then only shed torrents of tears, in deploring his miserable fate; consoling himself, however, with the idea, that this misfortune had not happened to his brother Amgiad.

In the mean time, prince Amgiad waited for his brother at the foot of the mountain till sun-set with the greatest impatience. When he found, that one, two, three, and even four hours of the night were gone, and that Assad did not make his appearance, he began to be in the greatest agitation, and even despair. He passed the night in this most distressing and anxious state, and as soon as day appeared, he set out towards the town. He was at first very much astonished at seeing so few mussulmen. He stopped the first he met, and asked him what was the name of the place. He was informed, it was called the city of the Magi, because the Magi, who were idolaters of fire, resided in great numbers in it, and that there were very few mussulmen. He inquired also how far they reckoned it to the Isle of Ebony; when he was told for answer, that by sea it was about four months voyage, and a year’s journey by land. The person, to whom he had addressed himself, after having satisfied him in these particulars, abruptly left him, and continued his road, as he was in haste.

Amgiad, who had not been more than six weeks in coming from the Isle of Ebony with his brother Assad, could not comprehend how they had come so far in so short a time, unless it were by enchantment, or that the road over the mountain which they had traversed was much shorter, though not at all frequented, on account of its difficulty and danger. In walking about the town, he stopped at the shop of a tailor, whom, by his dress, he knew to be a mussulman, as he had also known the former person whom he had accosted. After having made his compliments to him, he sat down and informed him of the cause of the great distress he was in.

When prince Amgiad had finished, the tailor said to him, “If your brother has fallen into the hands of any one of the Magi, you may make up your mind never to see him again. He is gone past recovery; and I advise you to console yourself, and only to endeavour to preserve yourself from the same disgraceful fate. To assist you in this, you may, if you please, remain with me; and I will inform you of all the cunning and artful tricks of the Magi, in order that you may be upon your guard against them, when you go out.” Amgiad was greatly afflicted at the loss of his brother. He accepted the tailor’s offer, and thanked him a thousand times for the kindness he showed him.

This prince did not go out of the house for a whole month except in company with the tailor. At the end of this time he risked going alone to the bath. As he returned, he passed through a street, where he did not see a single person, except a lady whom he met, and who came up to him.

This lady, observing him to be a handsome and well-made young man, and fresh from the bath, lifted up her veil, and asked him with a smiling countenance where he was going; casting at the same time a most enticing glance on him. Amgiad was unable to resist the appearance of so many charms, and in reply said, “I am going to my own house, or to yours, whichever you like best.”--“Sir,” answered the lady, with an engaging smile, “ladies of my rank and disposition never carry men home with them, they only accompany them to their houses.”

Amgiad was in the greatest embarrassment at this answer, which he did not in the least expect. He was afraid of taking the liberty to carry her to the house of his host, who would be much scandalized at it, and he should thus run the risk also of losing his protection, which was so necessary in a town where so many precautions were to be taken. The little experience, also, he had in the town, made him ignorant of any place to which he might carry her; he could not, however, resolve to let his good fortune escape him. In this uncertain state he determined to leave every thing to chance; and without answering the lady a word, he went on, and she followed him.

Prince Amgiad walked on for a long time from street to street, from one cross way to another, and from square to square. They were at last both greatly fatigued with walking so much, when they came down a street, which was terminated by a large door, belonging to a house of considerable appearance, with a bench, or seat, on each side of it. Amgiad sat down on one to take breath, and the lady, even more tired than he, sat down on the other.

“Is this your house?” said she to prince Amgiad, as soon as he was seated.--“You see it is, madam,” replied the prince.--“Why do you not then open the door?” added she, “What do you wait for?”--“My charming creature,” answered Amgiad, “it is because I have not the key. I left it with my slave, to whom I gave some commission; and he is not yet returned from executing it. And as I ordered him after that to go and purchase some provisions for a good dinner, I am afraid that we shall have to wait a considerable time.”

The difficulty in which the prince found himself in thus endeavoring to complete his adventure, began to damp his passion, and make him repent of his enterprise. He therefore made use of that evasive pretence, in hopes that the lady would take offence at it, and in her anger would leave him, to go and seek her fortune in some other place; but he was mistaken. “What an impertinent slave is yours,” said she, “to make you wait thus; I will chastise him myself as he deserves, if you do not punish him well when he comes back. It is not indeed quite the thing for me to remain here alone at the door with a man.” Having said this, she got up, and took a large stone, in order to break the lock, which, according to the custom of that country, was made of wood, and not very strong.

Amgiad knew not what to do, nor how to prevent her intention. “Madam,” he cried, “what are you going to do? Do me the favor to have a little more patience.”--“What are you afraid of?” said she. “Is not the house your own? There is no great harm in breaking a wooden lock; and its place is easily supplied.” She then broke the lock; and as soon as the door was open, she entered and walked on before. When the prince saw the house broken open, he gave himself up for lost. He hesitated whether he should go in, or endeavour to make his escape in order to free himself from a danger which seemed to him to be almost inevitable: and he was on the point of determining upon the latter plan, when the lady came back and found he was not going in. “What are you about,” she said, “that you do not come into your own house?”--“I am looking, madam,” he answered, “to see if my slave is returning; because I am afraid we shall find nothing ready.”--“Come, come,” added she, “we can wait much better within, than standing here in expectation of his arrival.”

The prince, though much against his will, then went into a very large and handsome paved court. From this they ascended by a few steps to a grand vestibule, where both he and the lady perceived a large open room handsomely furnished, and one table set out with numerous excellent dishes; another, covered with a variety of fine fruits; and a sideboard, well supplied with wine. When Amgiad saw these preparations, he no longer doubted that his destruction was near at hand. “It is all over with you, poor Amgiad,” said he to himself: “you will not long survive your dear brother Assad.” The lady, on the contrary, was delighted with this agreeable sight. “What, sir!” she cried, “you were fearful that nothing was ready; and you may now perceive, that your slave has even exceeded his orders, and done more than you thought? But, if I do not deceive myself, these preparations are for some other lady, and not intended for me. Well, never mind; let her come; I promise you, not to be jealous at it. The only favor that I ask of you is, that you will suffer me to wait upon you both.”

Amgiad could not help laughing at the pleasantry of the lady, notwithstanding the melancholy and painful sensations he felt. “Madam,” said he, totally absorbed in the afflicting reflections that preyed upon his mind, “I assure you, that you are much mistaken in your conjectures: this is only my common fare.” As he could not resolve to sit down at a table that had not been prepared for him, he was going to a sofa, but the lady prevented him. “What are you about?” she cried; “after having gone into the bath, you ought to be almost famished with hunger. Come, let us sit down at the table, and eat and enjoy ourselves.”

The prince was obliged to do as the lady liked. They therefore sat down, and began to eat. After the first mouthful or two, she took a bottle and glass, and poured out some wine. She drank the first glass to the health of Amgiad. Having done this, she filled the same glass again, and presented it to the prince, who did the same.