The Arabian Nights II (29 page)

The African magician let the children shout as much as they pleased and, not wishing to stay any longer near 'Ala al-Din's palace, walked, leaving it far behind, without making any noise, that is to say, without crying or speaking any longer of exchanging new lamps for old ones, for he wanted no other save the one he carried off, and his silence made the children leave him alone and let him go.

As soon as he was out of the square between the two palaces, he escaped through the least frequented streets, and since he had no more need for the lamps or the basket, he set them down in the middle
of a street when he saw that there was nobody there. Then he entered another street and walked quickly until he came to one of the city gates, and, pursuing his way through the suburbs, which extended far, he bought some provisions before he left the vicinity of the city and got into the fields. Then he turned from the road and went to a remote hidden place, where he stayed, waiting for the proper moment to achieve the aim he had come for. He did not regret leaving the horse behind at the inn where he had taken lodgings, for he thought himself well compensated by the treasure he had acquired.

He spent the rest of the day in that place until the darkest time of the night, when he pulled the lamp out of his breast and rubbed it. At that call, the demon appeared and said, “What do you wish? Here I am, ready to obey you, as your slave and the slave of all those who have the lamp in their hands.” He replied, “I command you to transport me immediately, with the palace which you or the other slaves of the lamp have built, as it is, with all the people in it, to such and such a place in Africa.” The demon did not reply, but with the assistance of the other demons, the slaves of the lamp, transported him and the entire palace, in a very short time, to the designated place in Africa, where we will take leave of the magician, the palace, and Princess Badr al-Budur, to describe the surprise of the king.

As soon as the king got up in the morning, he went as usual to the room with the view, to have the pleasure of contemplating and admiring 'Ala al-Din's palace. But when he looked in that direction, instead of the palace, he saw an empty space, such as it had been before the palace was built. He thought that he was mistaken and rubbed his eyes, but he saw nothing more than he did the first time, even though the weather was fine, the sky clear, and the daylight, which was beginning to appear, had made all objects very distinct. He looked through the two openings on the right and left and saw nothing more than he had formerly been used to see out of them. His amazement was so great that he stood for some time, looking at the spot where the palace had stood, but where it was now no longer to be seen. He could not comprehend how so large and striking a palace as that of 'Ala al-Din, which he saw only the day before and had seen almost every day ever since he gave 'Ala al-Din permission to build it, could have vanished, without leaving a trace behind. He said to himself, “Certainly, I am not mistaken. It did stand there. If it had collapsed, the materials would have lain in heaps, and if the earth had swallowed it up, there would have been some mark left. How then could it have vanished?” Although he was convinced that the palace was gone, he stayed there for some time to see whether he might not be mistaken. At last, he retired to his apartment, looking behind him one more time before he left the room. Then he ordered that the grand vizier be brought to
him in all haste and, in the meantime, sat down, his mind agitated by so many conflicting thoughts that he did not know what to think.

The grand vizier did not make the king wait long. He came in such great haste that neither he nor his men noticed, as they passed by, that 'Ala al-Din's palace was no longer there; neither did the gatekeepers, when they opened the palace gate. When the grand vizier approached the king, he said to him, “My lord, the haste in which your majesty has sent for me leads me to believe that something very extraordinary has happened, since you know that this is council day and that I must not fail to report to my duty there in a few moments.” The king replied, “Indeed, it is very extraordinary, as you say, and you will agree that it is so. Tell me, where is 'Ala al-Din's palace?” The grand vizier replied, in amazement, “My lord, I thought, as I passed by, that it stood in its usual place. Buildings as substantial as that do not change place so easily.” The king said, “Go into that room, and tell me if you see it.”

The grand vizier went into the room and had the same experience as the king. When he was well assured that 'Ala al-Din's palace was no longer where it used to be and that there was not a trace of it left, he returned to the king, who asked him, “Well, have you seen 'Ala al-Din's palace?” The grand vizier replied, “My lord, your majesty may remember that I had the honor to tell you that that palace, which was the subject of your admiration, with all its immense riches, was only the work of magic, wrought by a magician, but your majesty would not pay any attention.” The king, who could not dispute the grand vizier's claims, flew into a great rage, because he could not deny his incredulity, and cried out, “Where is that imposter, that rascal, so that I may have his head cut off?” The grand vizier replied, “My lord, it has been some days since he came to take leave of your majesty. He ought to be sent for, to ask him what became of his palace, for he must surely know.” The king said, “This would be treating him with too much indulgence. Go and give orders to a detachment of thirty of my horsemen to bring him back to me in chains.” The grand vizier went to convey the king's order to the horsemen, instructing their commanding officer in what manner to take 'Ala al-Din, in order that he might not escape them. The horsemen rode out and, about five or six leagues from the city, met him, as he was hunting in the direction of the city. The commanding officer approached 'Ala al-Din and told him that the king, who was impatient to see him, had sent them to inform him and ride back with him.

'Ala al-Din, who did not have the slightest suspicion of the true reason that had brought this detachment of the king's guards, continued on his way back to the city. But when he was about half a league away, the horsemen surrounded him, and the commanding officer
said to him, “Prince 'Ala al-Din, it is with great regret that I must inform you of the king's order to arrest you and bring you back to him as a criminal. I beg you not to take it ill that we are performing our duty, and to forgive us.”

'Ala al-Din, who felt himself innocent, was very much surprised at this declaration and asked the officer whether he knew what crime he was accused of. The officer replied that neither he nor his men knew. 'Ala al-Din, seeing that his own men were considerably inferior in number to the detachment, even if they were farther off, dismounted and said to the officer, “Here I am. Carry out your order, but I can tell you that I am not aware of being guilty of any crime against the king or against the state.” A very large and long chain was immediately put around his neck and tied around his body, in such a way as to bind his arms. Then the officer rode at the head of the horsemen, while a horseman, holding the end of the chain and riding behind him, led 'Ala al-Din, who was obliged to follow him on foot, to the city.

When the horsemen entered the suburbs, the people who saw 'Ala al-Din led as a state criminal had no doubt that his head was going to be cut off. As he was generally beloved, some took swords, some took other weapons, while those who had none gathered stones and followed the detachment. Some horsemen who rode in the rear turned around with threatening looks, in order to disperse them. But soon the crowd grew so large that the horsemen decided on a maneuver, thinking that they would be lucky if 'Ala al-Din was not rescued before they reached the king's palace. To prevent this, as the streets varied in width, they took care to cover the space by spreading out or closing in. In this manner, they arrived at the palace square and drew up a line, facing the armed rabble, until the officer and the horseman who led 'Ala al-Din went through the gate, which the gatekeepers shut immediately, to prevent the people from following in.

'Ala al-Din was brought before the king, who was waiting for him, attended by the grand vizier, on the balcony. As soon as the king saw him, he commanded the executioner, who had been ordered to be there, to cut off his head, without hearing him or getting any explanation from him. The executioner seized 'Ala al-Din, took off the chain fastened around his neck and his body and, after laying down on the ground a leather mat stained with the blood of an infinite number of criminals he had executed, made him kneel on his knees and tied a bandage over his eyes. Then the executioner drew his sword, took his measures to strike the blow, by flourishing the sword in the air and trying it three times, and waited for the king to give the signal to cut off 'Ala al-Din's head.

At that moment, the grand vizier, who perceived that the crowd, which had overpowered the mounted palace guard and filled the
square, were scaling the walls in several places and were beginning to tear them down, in order to force their way in, said to the king, before he gave the signal, “My lord, I beg your majesty to consider what you are going to do, for you will risk your palace being stormed, and if any mishap occurs, it may be fatal.” The king replied, “My palace forced? Who can have the audacity?” The grand vizier replied, “My lord, if your majesty will cast your eyes toward the walls of your palace and toward the square, you will discover the truth of what I say.”

When the king saw the animated and aggressive mob, his fear was so great that he instantly commanded the executioner to put his sword in the scabbard and remove the bandage from 'Ala al-Din's eyes, to release him. At the same time, he ordered the guards to declare to the men that the king had pardoned him and that they might withdraw. Then all the men who had already scaled the palace walls and had seen what happened, abandoned their plan and descended quickly, full of joy that they had saved the life of a man they truly loved. They gave the news to those who were around them, and it soon spread throughout the entire crowd assembled in the square, and when the guards proclaimed the same thing from the top of the terraces, it became known everywhere. The justice the king had done 'Ala al-Din by pardoning him disarmed the mob and put an end to the tumult, and everyone returned home quietly.

When 'Ala al-Din found himself free, he looked toward the balcony and, seeing the king, cried out to him, in a moving manner, “My lord, I implore your majesty to add one more favor to the one you have already done me, to let me know my crime.” The king replied, “Your crime? Don't you know it? Come up here, and I will show you.” 'Ala al-Din went up, and when he presented himself, the king, saying, “Follow me,” walked ahead of him, without looking back at him, and led him to the room with the view. When he reached the door, the king said to him, “Enter. You ought to know where your palace stood. Look everywhere, and tell me what has become of it.”

'Ala al-Din looked around, but found nothing. He saw clearly the spot of ground his palace had occupied, but since he could not guess how it could have disappeared, this extraordinary and surprising event threw him into such a great bewilderment and confusion that he could not reply with a single word. The king, growing impatient, asked 'Ala al-Din again, “Where is your palace, and where is my daughter?” Then 'Ala al-Din, breaking his silence, said to him, “My lord, I see very well, and I admit that the palace I have built is no longer in the place where it was. I see that it has disappeared, and I cannot tell your majesty where it may be, but I can assure you that I had no part in this.” The king replied, “I am not so much concerned about what happened to your palace. I value my daughter a million times more,
and I want you to find her for me, or I will cut off your head, and nothing will stop me.” 'Ala al-Din replied, “My lord, I implore your majesty to grant me forty days for this endeavor, and I give you my word that if in that time I do not succeed, I will offer my head at the foot of your throne, so that you may dispose of it as you please.” The king replied, “I grant you the forty days you ask for, but do not think of abusing the favor I am doing you by thinking that you can escape my resentment, for I will find you in whatever corner of the earth you may be.”

'Ala al-Din went out of the king's presence in great humiliation and in a state worthy of pity. He crossed the courts of the palace, with his head hanging down, without daring to lift up his eyes in his confusion. The principal officers of the court, who had been his friends and whom he had never disobliged, instead of going up to him to console him and offer him shelter in their houses, turned their backs on him, as much to avoid seeing him as to avoid being recognized by him. But had they approached him to give him some words of comfort or offer him some help, they would not have recognized him, for he hardly recognized himself, being no longer in his right mind, as was evident when, as soon as he left the palace, he, without knowing what he was doing, inquired from door to door and from all passersby he met whether they had seen his palace or whether they could give him any news of it. These inquiries made everybody believe that 'Ala al-Din was mad. Some laughed at him, but the most sensible of them, and particularly those who had any connection of business or friendship with him, truly pitied him. He stayed in the city for three days wandering from one place to another, without eating anything, save what people gave him out of charity, and without coming to any resolution.

At last, as he could no longer stay in that unhappy condition in a city in which he had formerly cut such a fine figure, he left it and took the road to the country. He avoided the main roads, and after crossing several fields, in a terrible uncertainty, he finally, as night approached, came to the side of a river. There, he was overcome by despair and said to himself, “Where shall I go to look for my palace? In what province, country, or part of the world shall I find it and find my dear princess, whom the king demands of me? I will never succeed. I should therefore better free myself from so much fruitless labor and from the bitter grief that preys on me.” He was going to throw himself into the river, following the resolution he had made, but being a good Muslim, true to his religion, he thought that he should not do it without performing his prayers. Wishing to prepare himself, he went to the river bank to wash his hands and face, according to custom. As the bank was sloping and wet, because the water beat against it, he slid down and would have fallen into the river, had he not held on to a
rock that jutted about two feet above the ground. Fortunately for him, he was still wearing the ring the African magician had put on his finger before he went down into the subterranean place to get the precious lamp that was taken from him. In holding onto the rock, he rubbed the ring against it so hard that instantly the same demon who had appeared before him in the subterranean place where the African magician had confined him, appeared again and said, “What do you wish? Here I am, ready to obey you, as your slave and the slave of those who have the ring on their finger, I and the other slaves of the ring.”