The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, vol 8, Sir Richard Francis Burton [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

Then he tarried till the first watch of the night was past, when he made his way to the postern of the tunnel and opening it, went forth, calling on Allah for protection, and ceased not faring on until, after finding and opening the door, he came to the sea.

Here he discovered the vessel moored to the shore near the gate; and her skipper, a tall old man of comely aspect with a long beard, standing in the waist, his ten men being ranged before him. Nur al-Din gave him his hand, as Miriam had bidden him, and the captain took it and pulling him on board of the ship cried out to his crew, saying, “Cast off the moorings and put out to sea with us, ere day break.” Said one of the ten, “O my lord the Captain, how shall we put out now, when the King hath notified us that tomorrow he will embark in this ship and go round about the sea, being fearful for his daughter Miriam from the Moslem thieves?” But the Rais cried out at them saying, “Woe to you, O

accursed; Dare ye gainsay me and bandy words with me?” So saying the old captain bared his blade and with it dealt the sailor who had spoken a thrust in the throat, that the steel came out gleaming from his nape; and quoth another of the sailors, “What hath our comrade done of crime, that thou shouldst cut his throat?” Thereupon the captain clapped hand to sword and smote the speaker’s head, nor did he leave smiting the rest of the sailors till he had slain them all, one after other, and cast the ten bodies ashore. Then he turned to Nur al-Din and cried out at him with a terrible great cry, that made him tremble, saying, “Go down and pull up the mooring-satke.” Nur al-Din feared lest he should strike him also with the sword; so he sprang up and leapt ashore and pulling up the stake jumped aboard again, swiftlier than the dazzling leven. The captain ceased not to bid him do this and do that and tack and wear hither and thither and look at the stars, and Nur al-Din did all that he bade him, with heart a-quaking for affright; whilst he himself spread the sails, and the ship fared with the twain into the dashing sea, swollen with clashing billows.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-fourth Night, She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the old skipper had made sail he drave the ship, aided by Nur al-Din, into the dashing sea before a favouring gale. Meanwhile, Nur al-Din held on to the tackle immersed in deep thought, and drowned in the sea of solicitude, knowing not what was hidden for him in the future; and whenever he looked at the captain, his heart quaked and he knew not whither the Rais went with him. He abode thus, preoccupied with care and doubt, till it was high day, when he looked at the skipper and saw him take hold of his long beard and pull at it, whereupon it came off in his hand and Nur al-Din, examining it, saw that it was but a false beard glued on. So he straitly considered that same Rais, and behold, it was the Princess Miriam, his mistress and the dearling of his heart, who had contrived to waylay the captain and slay him and skinned off his beard, which she had stuck on to her own face. At this Nur al-Din was transported for you, and his breast broadened and he marvelled at her prowess and the stoutness of her heart and said to her, “Welcome, O my hope and my desire and the end of mine every wish!” Then love and gladness agitated him and he made sure of winning to his hopes and his expectancy; wherefore he broke out into song and chanted these couplets, “To all who unknown my love for the May * From whom Fate disjoins me O say, I pray,

‘Ask my kith and kin of my love that aye * Ensweetens my verses to lovely lay:

For the loss of the tribesmen my life o’er sway!’

Their names when named heal all malady; * Cure and chase from heart every pain I dree:

And my longings for love reach so high degree * That my Sprite is maddened each morn I see,

And am grown of the crowd to be saw and say.

No blame in them will I e’er espy: * No! nor aught of solace sans them descry:

Your love hath shot me with pine, and I * Bear in heart a flame that shall never die,

But fire my liver with fiery ray.

All folk my sickness for marvel score * That in darkest night I wake evermore

What ails them to torture this heart forlore * And deem right for loving my blood t’ outpour:

And yet—how justly unjust are they!

Would I wot who ‘twas could obtain of you * To wrong a youth who’s so fain of you:

By my life and by Him who made men of you * And the spy tell aught I complain of you

He lies, by Allah, in foulest way!

May the Lord my sickness never dispel, * Nor ever my heart of its pains be well,

What day I regret that in love I fell * Or laud any land but wherein ye dwell:

Wring my heart and ye will or make glad and gay!

I have vitals shall ever be true to you * Though racked by the rigours not new to you

Ere this wrong and this right I but sue to you: * Do what you will to thrall who to you

Shall ne’er grudge his life at your feet to lay.”

When Nur al-Din ceased to sing, the Princess Miriam marvelled at his song and thanked him therefor, saying, “Whoso’s case is thus it behoveth him to walk the ways of men and never do the deed of curs and cowards.” Now she was stout of heart and cunning in the sailing of ships over the salt sea, and she knew all the winds and their shiftings and every course of the main. So Nur al-Din said, “O my lady, hadst thou prolonged this case on me,[FN#538] I had surely died for stress of affright and chagrin, more by token of the fire of passion and love-longing and the cruel pangs of separation.” She laughed at his speech and rising without stay or delay brought out somewhat of food and liquor; and they ate and drank and enjoyed themselves and made merry. Then she drew forth rubies and other gems and precious stones and costly trinkets of gold and silver and all manner things of price, light of weight and weighty of worth, which she had taken from the palace of her sire and his treasuries, and displayed them to Nur al-Din, who rejoiced therein with joy exceeding. All this while the wind blew fair for them and merrily sailed the ship nor ceased sailing till they drew near the city of Alexandria and sighted its landmarks, old and new, and Pompey’s Pillar. When they made the port, Nur al-Din landed forthright and securing the ship to one of the Fulling-Stones,[FN#539] took somewhat of the treasures that Miriam had brought with her, and said to her, “O my lady, tarry in the ship, against I return and carry thee up into the city in such way as I should wish and will.” Quoth she, “It behoveth that this be done quickly, for tardiness in affairs engendereth repentance.” Quoth he, “There is no tardiness in me;” and, leaving her in the ship, went up into the city to the house of the druggist his father’s old fried, to borrow of his wife for Miriam veil and mantilla, and walking boots and petticoat-trousers after the usage of the women of Alexandria, unknowing that there was appointed to betide him of the shifts of Time, the Father of Wonders, that which was far beyond his reckoning. Thus it befel Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-girl; but as regards her sire the King of France, when he arose in the morning, he missed his daughter and questioned her women and her eunuchs of her. Answered they, “O our lord, she went out last night, to go to Church and after that we have no tidings of her.”

But, as the King talked with them, behold, there arose so great a clamour of cries below the palace, that the place rang thereto, and he said, “What may be the news?” The folk replied, “O King, we have found ten men slain on the seashore, and the royal yacht is missing. Moreover we saw the postern of the Church, which giveth upon the tunnel leading to the sea, wide open; and the Moslem prisoner, who served in the Church, is missing.” Quoth the King, “An my ship be lost, without doubt or dispute.”—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-fifth Night, She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the King of France missed his daughter they brought him tidings of her, saying, “Thy yacht is lost”; and he replied, “An the craft be lost, without dispute or doubt my daughter is in it.” So he summoned without stay or delay the Captain of the Port and cried out at him, saying, “By the virtue[FN#540] of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, except thou and thy fighting men overtake my ship forthright and bring it back to me, with those who are therein, I will do thee die the foulest of deaths and make a terrible example of thee!” Thereupon the captain went out from before him, trembling, and betook himself to the ancient dame of the Church, to whom said he, ‘Heardest thou aught from the captive, that was with thee, anent his native land and what countryman he was?” And she answered, “He used to say, I come from the town of Alexandria.” When the captain heard the old woman’s words he returned forthright to the port and cried out to the sailors, “Make ready and set sail.” So they did his bidding and straightway putting out to sea, fared night and day till they sighted the city of Alexandria at the very time when Nur al-Din landed, leaving the Princess in the ship. They soon espied the royal yacht and knew her; so they moored their own vessel at a distance therefrom and putting off in a little frigate they had with them, which drew but two cubits of water and in which were an hundred fighting-men, amongst them the one-eyed Wazir (for that he was a stubborn tyrant and a froward devil and a wily thief, none could avail against his craft, as he were Abu Mohammed al-Batt�l[FN#541]), they ceased not rowing till they reached the bark and boarding her, all at once, found none therein save the Princess Miriam. So they took her and the ship, and returning to their own vessel, after they had landed and waited a long while,[FN#542] set sail forthright for the land of the Franks, having accomplished their errand, without a fight or even drawing sword. The wind blew fair for them and they sailed on, without ceasing and with all diligence, till they reached the city of France and landing with the Princess Miriam carried her to her father, who received her, seated on the throne of his Kingship. As soon as he saw her, he said to her, “Woe to thee, O