Shame of Man (41 page)

“As Allah lives,” cried the king, “if this is true, I will grant you your fondest wish, whatever it may be.”

Then the Roman sage came forward, and presented the king with a basin of silver, in which was a peacock of gold, surrounded by twenty-four gold peahens. “Each time that an hour passes, of the day or night, the peacock pecks one of the peahens, and mounts her, with a great beating of his wings, thus marking the hours, until all the females have been mounted and the day and night are past. Further, when a month has passed, he will open his mouth and the crescent of the new moon will appear in his throat.”

“If you speak sooth,” said the king, “I will give you whatever you may desire, if it be in my power.”

The Persian sage approached. He presented the king with a horse made from rare black ebony, inlaid with gold and diamonds, and with a saddle. “When this horse is mounted, it will carry its rider through the air with such speed that it covers a year's distance in a day.”

“By Allah the Omnipotent, if this is true, I will reward you most splendidly!” the king exclaimed.

For three days thereafter the king tested the three marvelous devices, and all of them worked exactly as specified. “O illustrious sages,” the king said, gratified, “now that I have proved the truth of your claims, I will fulfill my promise. Ask what you will, and I shall grant it on the instant.”

The three replied that they wished the king to bestow on them his three daughters in marriage, for they had heard of the beauty of the damsels. The king agreed, and summoned the officials and witnesses so that the ceremony could be performed forthwith.

Now it happened that the king's three daughters, being curious by nature, were circumspectly witnessing the interchange. They were seated behind a curtain in the reception hall and heard what was said. Two of them did not object, for the sages were of fair countenance and mannerly, but when the youngest looked closely at the sage who would be her husband, lo, he was an old man, looking to be a hundred years of age, with his hair frosted, his forehead drooping, moth-eaten eyebrows, a nose like an eggplant, teeth jutting like those of a wild pig, lips like a camel's, and the rest of him less fair to behold. He was a compost of monstrous ugliness, supremely deformed. In truth, his aspect would have put a terrible demon of a haunted house to shame.

The princess, in contrast, was the fairest and most beautiful girl of her time, like a gazelle in her grace and symmetry, putting even her two lovely sisters to shame. She was truly formed for the games and works of love, outshining the full moon in luster. When she saw what was to befall her, she fled to her room, tore her robes, strewed dust on her head, and flung herself down in a dreadful fit of weeping.

The king's son, just returned from a prolonged hunting excursion, knew nothing of the events of the past three days, but happened to discover his sibling in her misery. His name was Prince Kamar al-Akmar, and of all the people in the world, he loved his little sister the most dearly. He was most grieved to find her in such distress. “What has happened, O my darling sister?” he inquired.

“O my dear and only brother,” she responded tearfully, beating her fair breast, “I will hide nothing from you. Our father has resolved upon a foul thing, and I think I must flee this court forever, rather than suffer this odious union, for I would far rather die. Know that he has promised me to a vile senile ugly magician who brought him a gift of black wood.” And she told him the whole story.

“This shall not be,” Kamar said, and went to reprove their father.

He found the king and braced him forthwith. “What is this I hear of a magician to whom you have promised my little sister in marriage? What gift could be so precious as to warrant slaying her with grief? This thing must not happen.” No ordinary person would dare speak to the king thus, but
Kamar was his prize, and trained to be decisive in the manner of one who would one day rule.

The Persian was nearby, and heard what the prince said. The words infuriated him, but he pretended nonchalance.

“My son,” the king said, “you must see this marvelous horse. Then you will understand.”

“I think I had better,” the prince replied grimly.

They went to the court where the horse stood. The prince was amazed by its beauty. “I must try this steed,” he said, and jumped into the saddle, for he was an accomplished horseman. He thrust his feet into the stirrups and spurred the horse forward, but it did not move.

“Tell him how it works,” the king told the sage.

The sage wanted to be rid of the prince, so he took advantage of the young man's impetuous nature by telling him only part of the truth. “Do you see that gold peg on the right side? Turn that to make the horse rise.”

Kamar immediately did so, and behold, the horse rose in the air with the quickness of a bird, for the prince had turned it too far for caution. In a moment the horse was far above the palace and soaring away, out of earshot.

“What is this?” the king demanded, alarmed. “How can he bring it down again?”

“O master, he did not give me time to explain the use of the peg on the left side, which governs descent. I can do nothing.”

King Sabur was no fool, and he suspected the sage of deliberate mischief. But he was not sure. So he compromised by indulging a middle path: instead of slaying the man immediately, he had him beaten and thrown into the darkest dungeon of the city until such time as the prince should safely return. Then he cast the crown from his head, beat himself in the face, and tore out handfuls of his beard. He went to his youngest daughter, who was in similar state. “Indeed you shall not marry that vile sage,” he said. “I rue the moment I considered such a thing, for now my son is lost.”

The princess was quick to forgive her father, for she was of a sweet nature, and of course the loss of a son was a much greater affliction than the loss of a daughter. She consoled him as well as she could, but she grieved for Kamar herself, for she loved him as dearly as he loved her.

Meanwhile the prince found himself high aloft on the reckless steed, which would not respond to his directives. The peg caused the ascent to speed or slow, but would not bring the horse down. Kamar was impetuous, but also no fool; he realized that there had been malice in the sage's limited instruction. But since the sage himself was able to control the horse, there had to be a way. “Surely there is a second peg,” he said.

So he felt all over the horse, and finally found a tiny peg, no more than a pin, easy to overlook. He pressed down on it, and the horse leveled, then
began to descend rather too swiftly for comfort. The ground was rushing up, and the prince feared a crash.

But he experimented with the two pegs, and found that by touching them together with different motions, turning one slowly while pressing the other lightly, he could achieve complete control of the horse's elevation and velocity. Then he could affect its direction of motion by using the normal signals of his legs and feet. He was now in charge, and no longer in danger. He brought it to a gentle landing, and then caused it to rise again, going forward and backward, learning its nuances, until he was as expert with it as he was with a natural horse.

But he was now in a far realm, for the horse had flown most swiftly at the beginning, and that day was ending. He realized that he would not be able to find his way home in the dark, so decided to find a place to stay for the night. He rose high enough to gain a good view of the local landscape, and spied the lights of a sizable city surrounded by a formidable wall, and the turret of a palace in the distance. “That should be a good place,” he said. “Surely they will have fitting food and lodging.”

He flew the horse to the palace, and landed on a terrace. But now it was dark, and the lights here had been doused. So Prince Kamar left the horse and descended a stair in search of the proprietors, or at least some servants who could help him, for he was now quite hungry and thirsty. He came to a courtyard paved with marble and alabaster, and marveled at the intricacy and beauty of the building, but found no living person. “There is no help here,” he concluded. “I had better return to the horse, and pass the night there.”

But as he started back, he spied a light, which turned out to be a torch set in the wall. He went to it and found a huge black slave asleep on a mattress before a closed door. There was a bag of food beside the slave, so Kamar quietly took it, opened it, and found a loaf of good bread. He ate this with relish, then returned the bag and took the slave's great sword. He hoped that the slaves of his father's palace were not this careless, but was nevertheless thankful that this one was. He went to a nearby fountain and drank deeply.

Much refreshed, Kamar explored farther, and came to a second lighted door, this one not guarded. It was covered by a velvet curtain. He drew aside the curtain and entered, and discovered a great ivory couch, inlaid with pearls, rubies, and other jewels, guarded by four slave girls who slept around it. On it was a maiden of singular beauty, whose flowing hair served as her only covering.

Kamar gazed at her in wonder, for she was the loveliest creature he had seen, other than his little sister, and indeed was like a twin in the luster of her flower-white brow, anemone-red cheeks, and perfect symmetry.

The prince was overcome by emotion, for love was burgeoning in his
heart at the sight of her, and he bent to kiss her right cheek. The girl woke, surprised. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“I am the slave of love,” he replied. “For never have I seen a creature of such exquisite perfection.”

The girl might have been frightened or angry, but there was something about the way the man expressed himself that appealed to her. She saw that he was handsome, and clothed in the manner of a prince. “Are you the one who sued yesterday for my hand in marriage, but my father rejected on the pretext that he was ugly?” she asked. “If so, I must say I differ from my father, for you are by no means ill favored in my eyes. I am the Princess Shams al-Nahar, called Sun of the Day, of the Kingdom of Arabia.”

“I am not he,” Kamar said. “But surely I shall sue likewise for your hand, for you are surely she who I thought existed only in my dreams of rapture. I am Kamar al-Akmar, Prince of Persia.”

The slave girls woke, and overheard this exchange. “Indeed, this is not the one, mistress,” one informed the princess. “For that one is indeed hideous of aspect, while this man is handsome.”

“Then I choose to be with you,” Princess Shams said, and stepped into Kamar's embrace. He welcomed her approach, and in a moment it seemed that they had exchanged a thousand caresses and compliments, being instantly in love.

But by this time word of Kamar's intrusion had spread through the palace, and Shams's father the king had been roused. He came charging into the chamber, sword in hand.

Kamar immediately separated from Shams and lifted the sword he had taken from the slave. It was apparent that he was younger, stronger, and bolder than the other man, and capable of slaying the other in short order. But Shams screamed, “No! It is my father the king!”

“How dare you sneak into my palace, take my daughter, and smirch my honor?” the king demanded with some irritation. “Is there any reason I should not have my slaves put you to the worst of deaths?”

This caused Kamar to hesitate. “Very well,” he decided. “I will talk with him.” He then approached the king, and said “I am Prince Kamar al-Akmar, and I wish to marry your lovely daughter. If you will not agree to this, I see two courses of action.”

“Two?” the king asked, taken aback by the prince's audacity. He also noted his daughter's interest in the young man, and realized that she might never forgive him if he had her lover summarily put to death. Daughters could be touchy about such things.

“Either you should fight me now, and if you win you have redeemed your honor and saved your daughter; and if I win, I will have her and your kingdom. Or let me be this night, and in the morning I will fight your entire force, and—” Kamar paused, thinking of something. “How many are there?”

“Forty thousand horsemen, plus a similar number of foot soldiers and armed slaves and the slaves of the slaves.”

“Very well. Draw them up before me in the morning, and if they kill me, you will have your vengeance, and if I put them to flight, you will know that you have found a son-in-law worthy of the honor.”

The king was so surprised by this offer that he agreed to it, being certain that the morning would finish the matter. Then his daughter would not hold it against him, because Kamar himself had proposed the contest. So he gave orders to have the force drawn up ready for battle in the morning. Then he remained to talk with Kamar, being in doubt as to the propriety in leaving the virile young man alone with his lovely daughter, and was impressed with Kamar's handsomeness and manners. Had the prince come in the normal fashion, the king might have been inclined to grant his suit. He really did love his daughter, and desired her welfare.

Before they knew it, dawn came. There was the sound of the massed troops outside. “It is time,” said the king, and the princess nodded sadly, fearing that the king had the better part of the deal.

“O King,” replied Kamar, “how can I fight against all these horsemen, when I am on foot?”

“Choose any of my horses to ride,” the king replied graciously. “All are well trained.”

“No, I prefer to ride the one that brought me to your kingdom.”

“Very well. Where is it?”

“On the terrace above the palace.”

“What folly is this?” the king demanded. But he turned to the chief of his armies. “Go to the terrace and bring me what you find there.”

So men went to the terrace and found the ebony horse. They brought it down to the ground before the palace, where Kamar stood before the cavalry and armies of the king. All were amazed by the wooden horse, and gathered around to admire it. “Is this your horse?” the King asked.

“It is,” Kamar agreed. “I will mount and show you the marvels of it. In fact I will charge your troops and put them all to flight. But first your men must retire a bow-shot's distance, so that I have room to maneuver.”