The Storyteller's Daughter (4 page)

And so, as silently as he had left it, Shazaman returned to the caravan and departed with the vizier the following morning without ever revealing to the vizier what had transpired. They traveled together for many miles until at last they reached Shahrayar’s palace. Ah! How joyful was the reunion of the brothers!

But it did not take long for Shahrayar to realize that a profound melancholy had settled upon his brother. Though he would converse on any topic Shahrayar wished, Shazaman neither laughed nor smiled. Nothing seemed to delight him. But when Shahrayar pressed to know what was wrong, his brother begged him to change the subject.

In this manner many weeks went by until the time drew near for Shazaman’s departure. Still trying to shake his brother from his melancholy, Shahrayar arranged a great hunt, a thing that Shazaman had always enjoyed above all others. But when the time came for the hunt to begin, Shazaman begged his brother to go without him. No words Shahrayar could say altered his brother’s decision to stay behind, and so at last, he obeyed Shazaman’s wishes and set forth without him.

Now, since the night he had discovered his wife’s treachery, Shazaman had not slept. For it was in the night that he had discovered there was more to his life than his eyes had been able to perceive, and so he feared to close them.

And so, on a night much like the one on which Shazaman had uncovered the plot aimed at his own heart, he discovered one aimed at his brother’s. For Shahrayar’s wife, too, did conspire against him, to deprive him of his life and set another in his place— both in his bed and on his throne.

Shazaman was filled with anger when he heard his brother’s wife plotting against him, yet his heart was also strangely filled with joy. For now he understood that it was not he, alone, who could be deceived. All men could be blinded by their faith in the women they loved. Thus reasoned Shazaman. And so he cast off his melancholy and waited for his brother’s return. But he kept a close eye on Shahrayar’s wife and her lover.

Great was the rejoicing in the city at the king’s safe return! And great was the change Shahrayar beheld in his brother. Before, Shazaman’s countenance had been dull and downcast. Now it shone so brightly it dazzled all who looked upon him. At dinner that evening as they sat at their ease, Shahrayar said to his brother, “When I departed, you were as the ray of a lamp shielded by a hand—Shuttered and shrouded. Now, no brightness can outshine you. What has brought about so great a transformation? I pray you, tell me.”

At Shahrayar’s words, Shazaman’s expression dimmed. “Ask me anything but that, my brother. For my answer will bring you a grief as great as that which I have lately known—a thing I cannot wish upon you. Therefore, let us find another topic.”

But Shahrayar was not to be dissuaded. Over and over he urged his brother to unburden his heart. And so at last, Shazaman related all that had lately befallen him: How he discovered the treachery of his wife, and what he had done about it. Great was Shahrayar’s sympathy when he heard his brother’s story.

“Now I understand your unhappiness!” he cried. “But this story does not explain why you have lately set aside your grief. Surely some other tale must follow.”

“It does,” replied Shazaman.’! know you have the ears to hear it, but have you the stomach and the heart, Shahrayar?”

“As we are both the sons of our father, I do,” Shahrayar answered steadily, though the truth was that he was beginning to feel alarmed.

“Then hear me, and grieve also,” said Shazaman. At that, he related what he had lately overheard concerning Shahrayar’s own wife. How she, too, had taken a lover, and how she plotted to kill her husband and set her paramour upon his throne.

When Shahrayar heard this, he was filled with a grief and anger such as he had never known. But even in his extremity, he strove to be fair, for thus did he honor the teachings of his father.

“All that you have spoken I believe, for you have always been true to me,” he told Shazaman. “Yet before I can condemn these conspirators, I must hear their guilt from their own mouths.”

“That is easily arranged,” Shazaman replied. “I will convey you to the place where they meet. I have kept watch over them each night, for they have yet to reveal how they intend to do you harm. But I warn you, guard well your heart, Shahrayar. There may be more pain to you in this than I have yet spoken.”

“I thank you for your care,” said Shahrayar. Then the brothers embraced and went to conceal themselves.

When Shahrayar saw the place to which his brother conveyed him, he felt the first swift inklings of the pain of which Shazaman had warned. For Shahrayar himself had caused the courtyard to be built as proof of the great trust he had in his wife. None could walk there, save by her consent—not even Shahrayar.

“Come,” Shazaman murmured to his brother.’Xet us conceal ourselves behind that vine.”

And so they hid themselves behind a vine whose sweet white flowers made the night so heavy with their scent that the very air was as a perfumed cloud. Yet it seemed to Shahrayar that the scent was bitter in his nostrils. Rank and putrid as dead meat. It was not long before the queen and her lover arrived.

How they enjoyed each other (which Shahrayar could not help but see), what words of affection they murmured (which Shahrayar could not help but hear), it is not seemly for me to tell. But I can say that when he beheld the man with whom his wife betrayed him, no warning Shazaman could have given would have prevented the pain that then pierced Shahrayar’s heart.

For here was one he had known since childhood, second only to his brother in Shahrayar’s love. When at last the vizier joined Shahrayar’s father in the kingdom of heaven, this was the man whom Shahrayar would have promoted above all others and placed at his right hand. There was no one he had loved or trusted more, save for Shazaman.

How many minutes he stood stricken, his senses muddled with rage and pain, Shahrayar never counted. But when at last he was himself again, he saw that, from a pocket stitched into the lining of her cloak, his wife had brought forth a dagger. Ancient symbols were etched upon its blade, and in its pommel was set a ruby red as heart’s blood.

At the sight of it, so great a fury shook Shahrayar that the vine around him trembled, and many of its flowers showered to the ground. Shazaman seized his brother by the arm to hold him still. But the queen and her lover never noticed, so intent were they upon themselves.

“See what I have brought you!” said the queen. “It is my husbands parting gift to his brother. At my urging, he will present it to him at a great banquet the evening before Shazaman departs. But I will drug Shazaman’s food so that he sleeps like one dead. Then, in the night, we will steal this dagger and use it to slay Shahrayar.”

When he heard these words, the queens lover rejoiced and took her into his arms.

“Your mind, as always, is most excellent in its cunning, my beloved. For by this device we will rid ourselves of both these brothers. When his blade is found in the king’s body, all will believe that Shazaman has slain Shahrayar. Then will we seize Shazaman and put him to death. And then there will be an end to waiting, for all that was theirs will become ours.”

“Not in this lifetime,” said Shahrayar. And so saying, he stepped out from behind the vine. At the sight of the friend he had so betrayed, the queen’s lover fell to his knees.

“My gracious lord, forgive me!” he cried. “See how I have been bewitched! But now that I behold you here before me, I regain my senses once more. Tell me how I may serve you and it shall be done!”

“Be silent, fool!” Shahrayar’s wife hissed. “Do not humble yourself so before him. Rather let us be bold and make an end of things here and now.”

So saying, she raised the dagger high. But before she could strike, Shazaman stepped from his place of concealment and wrested the dagger from her, knocking her to the ground. Then with one swift stroke, Shazaman stabbed the queen’s lover through his traitor’s heart. His blood ran freely, forming a great pool around him. The queen knelt before her husband, her lover’s blood staining her fine robes.

“Two choices lie before you,” Shahrayar said as he looked upon her, and his voice was both stern and cold. “You may die by my hand, or by your own.”

But the queen was defiant, even in defeat. “Give me the dagger,” she commanded Shazaman. “I shall die by my hand and no other.” At a nod from his brother, Shazaman placed the dagger in the queen’s hand. Then she rose and faced Shahrayar.

“My trials may end tonight, but yours are just beginning, husband. For now you know that even the most deadly of desires may be concealed in the heart you trust the most.

“Until you have found a woman whose heart you can see truly and therefore know it—one who can do the same with yours—you will find no peace by day or by night. Think well on these words, and remember me when I am gone.”

So saying, she put an end to her life.

And thus began the trials of King Shahrayar.

You shift a little in your chair, making yourself more comfortable. But what, you ask yourself, of Shahrazad? Is this not supposed to be her story? Yet she has been absent for many pages now. Surely it is time to see her again.

Patience. Though you have not seen her, she has not been idle, nor has she been forgotten. She has merely been waiting for the proper place to re-enter the story. If you look carefully, you can even see it approaching.

For many days following the death of his queen and her lover, Shahrayar behaved as always. So truly did he appear as he had always been that not even Shazaman, who loved him dearly and knew him well, could discover that there was anything wrong. So the time of Shazaman’s visit drew to an end, and he departed for Samarkand once more.

But, at his brother’s leaving, a change came over Shahrayar. He shut himself in the highest tower of the palace. For many days and nights, he did not come down. The sun rose and set, and rose and set again, and still Shahrayar did not come down. Some nights, the lamps burned in the tower from dusk till dawn. On still others, great bolts of lightning shot from sky to tower, and from tower to sky. And finally there came a series of nights where no lights shone forth. All within the tower was as still as death. And those were the most terrible nights of all.

Great was the fear Shahrayar’s people had for him. It was whispered that he was dabbling in black magic, consulting strange and mystical signs. But when at last Shahrayar came down from the tower, the people knew a new fear—and this fear was for themselves.

For the king was as a stranger. Never had they looked upon his like before. The fact that in outward form and body he still resembled Shahrayar meant nothing. For his heart had altered so irretrievably that none could recognize it. And in this way … it had been turned to stone.

For all the days and nights he remained in the tower, Shahrayar had grappled with his wife’s final words. They had been as a curse upon him, eating away like a cancer in his soul. For after so great and unexpected a betrayal, Shahrayar could find no way to believe it was possible to find a woman who would see his heart truly and so come to know it, yet be unafraid to have her own heart seen and known.

For even though she had deceived him in all else, in this Shahrayar perceived that his wife had spoken truly: Treachery could hide where it was least expected, even in the heart of the one he loved and trusted most.

And, so, at the last, Shahrayar could find but one solution: He determined to set love and trust aside. In this way only could he be secure. And so he cast them from his heart. And as he did, he felt a pain so great that for many days and nights he lay senseless, as if dead, upon the tower floor. Then the day came when Shahrayar awoke and found the pain had left him. Now he felt nothing at all. He had become as the stones beneath him: Hard. Unyielding. Cold.

So he rose from the floor, and descended from the tower, and set about ruling his kingdom once more.

And now, at last, we come to Shahrazad.

Shahrayar’s first act upon descending from the tower was to send for the vizier. He stayed locked in chambers with him for many hours. At the end of this time, the vizier went forth and issued a proclamation in the king’s name. Copies were made and sent throughout the kingdom so that, even in the farthest reaches of his land, Shahrayar’s will might be known.

Now, I have told you that the vizier had served both Shahrayar and Shahrayar’s father before him. The days of the vizier’s youth were long over, yet never had he seemed old. His mind and body were still strong and vigorous. But as he stood upon the great steps of the palace, the vizier’s hand shook as it held the king’s proclamation. And those who heard him noted that his voice trembled as he read it aloud.

“Hear now the word of your king,” the vizier proclaimed. “Dire plots have been laid against him, as you all know. He could forswear the company of women forever. But, as he is both king and man, it is right and fitting that he have a wife. Learn, then, how your king will marry and yet shield himself from harm.

“Once a month, at the full of the moon, will King Shahrayar take a maiden for a wife. But, lest she plot against him as one before her has, she will be his wife for one night only. On the morning following the wedding night, she will lose her life. This course will King Shahrayar follow each month for as long as his reign lasts, save for this thing only:

“If a maiden will come forward to wed him of her own free will, she alone will know the direst consequence. All those who follow her will be only close confined. They may keep their lives, but give up the outside world forever.

“All this shall be as I have proclaimed, for it is the will of King Shahrayar.”

With this, the vizier finished speaking, rolled up the proclamation bearing the great seal of the king, and vanished back inside the walls of the palace. No sooner had he done so than the love Shahrayar’s people bore him began to turn to hate. For who among them would wish such a fate upon one of their daughters? How could they honor a king who exacted such a terrible price upon his subjects? The span of time it had taken the vizier to proclaim Shahrayar’s will: That was how long it took for his people to turn against him and his once well-ordered kingdom to begin a descent into chaos.