Arabian night: - Season 1 - Episode 10

6 years ago

Arabian night: - Season 1 - Episode 10

(The Story of the Three Kalendars, Sons of Kings,
and of Five Ladies of Baghdad)

In the reign of the Caliph Haroun-al-
Raschid, there lived at Baghdad a porter
who, in spite of his humble calling, was
an intelligent and sensible man. One
morning he was sitting in his usual place
with his basket before him, waiting to be
hired, when a tall young lady, covered
with a long muslin veil, came up to him
and said, “Pick up your basket and follow
me.” The porter, who was greatly pleased
by her appearance and voice, jumped up
at once, poised his basket on his head,
and accompanied the lady, saying to
himself as he went, “Oh, happy day! Oh,
lucky meeting!”

The lady soon stopped before a closed
door, at which she knocked. It was
opened by an old man with a long white
beard, to whom the lady held out money
without speaking. The old man, who
seemed to understand what she wanted,
vanished into the house, and returned
bringing a large jar of wine, which the
porter placed in his basket. Then the lady
signed to him to follow, and they went
their way.

The next place she stopped at was a fruit
and flower shop, and here she bought a
large quantity of apples, apricots,
peaches, and other things, with lilies,
jasmine, and all sorts of sweet-smelling
plants. From this shop she went to a
butcher’s, a grocer’s, and a poulterer’s,
till at last the porter exclaimed in
despair, “My good lady, if you had only
told me you were going to buy enough
provisions to stock a town, I would have
brought a horse, or rather a camel.” The
lady laughed, and told him she had not
finished yet, but after choosing various
kinds of scents and spices from a
druggist’s store, she halted before a
magnificent palace, at the door of which
she knocked gently. The porteress who
opened it was of such beauty that the
eyes of the man were quite dazzled, and
he was the more astonished as he saw
clearly that she was no slave. The lady
who had led him hither stood watching
him with amusement, till the porteress
exclaimed, “Why don’t you come in, my
sister? This poor man is so heavily
weighed down that he is ready to drop.”

When they were both inside the door was
fastened, and they all three entered a
large court, surrounded by an open-work
gallery. At one end of the court was a
platform, and on the platform stood an
amber throne supported by four ebony
columns, garnished with pearls and
diamonds. In the middle of the court
stood a marble basin filled with water
from the mouth of a golden lion.
The porter looked about him, noticing
and admiring everything; but his
attention was specially attracted by a
third lady sitting on the throne, who was
even more beautiful than the other two.
By the respect shown to her by the
others, he judged that she must be the
eldest, and in this he was right. This
lady’s name was Zobeida, the porteress
was Sadie, and the housekeeper was
Amina. At a word from Zobeida, Sadie
and Amina took the basket from the
porter, who was glad enough to be
relieved from its weight; and when it was
emptied, paid him handsomely for its
use. But instead of taking up his basket
and going away, the man still lingered,
till Zobeida inquired what he was waiting
for, and if he expected more money. “Oh,
madam,” returned he, “you have already
given me too much, and I fear I may have
been guilty of rudeness in not taking my
departure at once. But, if you will pardon
my saying so, I was lost in astonishment
at seeing such beautiful ladies by
themselves. A company of women
without men is, however, as dull as a
company of men without women.” And
after telling some stories to prove his
point, he ended by entreating them to let
him stay and make a fourth at their
dinner.

The ladies were rather amused at the
man’s assurances and after some
discussion it was agreed that he should
be allowed to stay, as his society might
prove entertaining. “But listen, friend,”
said Zobeida, “if we grant your request, it
is only on condition that you behave with
the utmost politeness, and that you keep
the secret of our way of living, which
chance has revealed to you.” Then they
all sat down to table, which had been
covered by Amina with the dishes she
had bought.

After the first few mouthfuls Amina
poured some wine into a golden cup. She
first drank herself, according to the Arab
custom, and then filled it for her sisters.

When it came to the porter’s turn he
kissed Amina’s hand, and sang a song,
which he composed at the moment in
praise of the wine. The three ladies were
pleased with the song, and then sang
themselves, so that the repast was a
merry one, and lasted much longer than
usual.

At length, seeing that the sun was about
to set, Sadia said to the porter, “Rise and
go; it is now time for us to separate.”

“Oh, madam,” replied he, “how can you desire me to quit you in the state in
which I am? Between the wine I have
drunk, and the pleasure of seeing you, I
should never find the way to my house.

Let me remain here till morning, and
when I have recovered my senses I will
go when you like.”

“Let him stay,” said Amina, who had
before proved herself his friend. “It is
only just, as he has given us so much
amusement.”

“If you wish it, my sister,” replied
Zobeida; “but if he does, I must make a
new condition. Porter,” she continued,
turning to him, “if you remain, you must
promise to ask no questions about
anything you may see. If you do, you may
perhaps hear what you don’t like.”

This being settled, Amina brought in
supper, and lit up the hall with a number
of sweet smelling tapers. They then sat
down again at the table, and began with
fresh appetites to eat, drink, sing, and
recite verses. In fact, they were all
enjoying themselves mightily when they
heard a knock at the outer door, which
Sadie rose to open. She soon returned
saying that three kalendars, all blind in
the right eye, and all with their heads,
faces, and eyebrows clean shaved, begged
for admittance, as they were newly
arrived in Baghdad, and night had
already fallen. “They seem to have
pleasant manners,” she added, “but you have no idea how funny they look. I am sure we should find their company
diverting.”

Zobeida and Amina made some difficulty
about admitting the new comers, and
Sadie knew the reason of their hesitation.

But she urged the matter so strongly that
Zobeida was at last forced to consent.

“Bring them in, then,” said she, “but make them understand that they are not to make remarks about what does not
concern them, and be sure to make them
read the inscription over the door.” For
on the door was written in letters of gold,
“Whoso meddles in affairs that are no
business of his, will hear truths that will
not please him.”

The three kalendars bowed low on
entering, and thanked the ladies for their
kindness and hospitality. The ladies
replied with words of welcome, and they
were all about to seat themselves when
the eyes of the kalendars fell on the
porter, whose dress was not so very
unlike their own, though he still wore all
the hair that nature had given him.

“This,” said one of them, “is apparently one of our Arab brothers, who has
rebelled against our ruler.”

The porter, although half asleep from the
wine he had drunk, heard the words, and
without moving cried angrily to the
kalendar, “Sit down and mind your own
business. Did you not read the inscription
over the door? Everybody is not obliged
to live in the same way.”

“Do not be so angry, my good man,”
replied the kalendar; “we should be very
sorry to displease you;” so the quarrel
was smoothed over, and supper began in
good earnest. When the kalendars had
satisfied their hunger, they offered to
play to their hostesses, if there were any
instruments in the house. The ladies were
delighted at the idea, and Sadie went to
see what she could find, returning in a
few moments laden with two different
kinds of flutes and a tambourine. Each
kalendar took the one he preferred, and
began to play a well-known air, while the
ladies sang the words of the song. These
words were the gayest and liveliest
possible, and every now and then the
singers had to stop to indulge the
laughter which almost choked them. In
the midst of all their noise, a knock was
heard at the door.

Now early that evening the Caliph
secretly left the palace, accompanied by
his grand-vizir, Giafar, and Mesrour, chief
of the eunuchs, all three wearing the
dresses of merchants. Passing down the
street, the Caliph had been attracted by
the music of instruments and the sound
of laughter, and had ordered his vizir to
go and knock at the door of the house, as
he wished to enter. The vizir replied that
the ladies who lived there seemed to be
entertaining their friends, and he thought
his master would do well not to intrude
on them; but the Caliph had taken it into
his head to see for himself, and insisted
on being obeyed.

The knock was answered by Sadie, with a
taper in her hand, and the vizir, who was
surprised at her beauty, bowed low
before her, and said respectfully,
“Madam, we are three merchants who
have lately arrived from Moussoul, and,
owing to a misadventure which befel us
this very night, only reached our inn to
find that the doors were closed to us till
to-morrow morning. Not knowing what
to do, we wandered in the streets till we
happened to pass your house, when,
seeing lights and hearing the sound of
voices, we resolved to ask you to give us
shelter till the dawn. If you will grant us
this favour, we will, with your
permission, do all in our power to help
you spend the time pleasantly.”

Sadie answered the merchant that she
must first consult her sisters; and after
having talked over the matter with them,
she returned to tell him that he and his
two friends would be welcome to join
their company. They entered and bowed
politely to the ladies and their guests.
Then Zobeida, as the mistress, came
forward and said gravely, “You are
welcome here, but I hope you will allow
me to beg one thing of you–have as many
eyes as you like, but no tongues; and ask
no questions about anything you see,
however strange it may appear to you.”

“Madam,” returned the vizir, “you shall be obeyed. We have quite enough to
please and interest us without troubling
ourselves about that with which we have
no concern.” Then they all sat down, and
drank to the health of the new comers.

While the vizir, Giafar, was talking to the
ladies the Caliph was occupied in
wondering who they could be, and why
the three kalendars had each lost his right
eye. He was burning to inquire the
reason of it all, but was silenced by
Zobeida’s request, so he tried to rouse
himself and to take his part in the
conversation, which was very lively, the
subject of discussion being the many
different sorts of pleasures that there
were in the world. After some time the
kalendars got up and performed some
curious dances, which delighted the rest
of the company.

When they had finished Zobeida rose
from her seat, and, taking Amina by the
hand, she said to her, “My sister, our
friends will excuse us if we seem to
forget their presence and fulfil our
nightly task.” Amina understood her
sister’s meaning, and collecting the
dishes, glasses, and musical instruments,
she carried them away, while Sadie swept
the hall and put everything in order.
Having done this she begged the
kalendars to sit on a sofa on one side of
the room, and the Caliph and his friends
to place themselves opposite. As to the
porter, she requested him to come and
help her and her sister.

Shortly after Amina entered carrying a
seat, which she put down in the middle
of the empty space. She next went over
to the door of a closet and signed to the
porter to follow her. He did so, and soon
reappeared leading two black dogs by a
chain, which he brought into the centre
of the hall. Zobeida then got up from her
seat between the kalendars and the
Caliph and walked slowly across to where
the porter stood with the dogs. “We must
do our duty,” she said with a deep sigh,
pushing back her sleeves, and, taking a
whip from Sadie, she said to the man,
“Take one of those dogs to my sister
Amina and give me the other.”

The porter did as he was bid, but as he
led the dog to Zobeida it uttered piercing
howls, and gazed up at her with looks of
entreaty. But Zobeida took no notice, and
whipped the dog till she was out of
breath. She then took the chain from the
porter, and, raising the dog on its hind
legs, they looked into each other’s eyes
sorrowfully till tears began to fall from
both. Then Zobeida took her
handkerchief and wiped the dog’s eyes
tenderly, after which she kissed it, then,
putting the chain into the porter’s hand
she said, “Take it back to the closet and
bring me the other.”

The same ceremony was gone through
with the second dog, and all the while
the whole company looked on with
astonishment. The Caliph in particular
could hardly contain himself, and made
signs to the vizir to ask what it all meant.

But the vizir pretended not to see, and
turned his head away.

Zobeida remained for some time in the
middle of the room, till at last Sadie went
up to her and begged her to sit down, as
she also had her part to play. At these
words Amina fetched a lute from a case
of yellow satin and gave it to Sadie, who
sang several songs to its accompaniment.
When she was tired she said to Amina,
“My sister, I can do no more; come, I pray
you, and take my place.”

Amina struck a few chords and then
broke into a song, which she sang with so
much ardour that she was quite
overcome, and sank gasping on a pile of
cushions, tearing open her dress as she
did so to give herself some air. To the
amazement of all present, her neck,
instead of being as smooth and white as
her face, was a mass of scars.

The kalendars and the Caliph looked at
each other, and whispered together,
unheard by Zobeida and Sadie, who were
tending their fainting sister.

“What does it all mean? ‘ asked the
Caliph.

[B] “We know no more than you,” said the kalendar to whom he had spoken.

“What! You do not belong to the house?”

“My lord,” answered all the kalendars
together, “we came here for the first time an hour before you.”

They then turned to the porter to see if
he could explain the mystery, but the
porter was no wiser than they were
themselves. At length the Caliph could
contain his curiosity no longer, and
declared that he would compel the ladies
to tell them the meaning of their strange
conduct. The vizir, foreseeing what would
happen, implored him to remember the
condition their hostesses had imposed,
and added in a whisper that if his
Highness would only wait till morning he
could as Caliph summon the ladies to
appear before him. But the Caliph, who
was not accustomed to be contradicted,
rejected this advice, and it was resolved
after a little more talking that the
question should be put by the porter.

Suddenly Zobeida turned round, and
seeing their excitement she said, “What is
the matter– what are you all discussing
so earnestly?”

“Madam,” answered the porter, “these gentlemen entreat you to explain to them why you should first whip the dogs and then cry over them, and also how it
happens that the fainting lady is covered
with scars. They have requested me,
Madam, to be their mouthpiece.”

“Is it true, gentlemen,” asked Zobeida,
drawing herself up, “that you have
charged this man to put me that
question?”

“It is,” they all replied, except Giafar,
who was silent.

“Is this,” continued Zobeida, growing more angry every moment, “is this the return you make for the hospitality I have shown you? Have you forgotten the one
condition on which you were allowed to
enter the house? Come quickly,” she
added, clapping her hands three times,
and the words were hardly uttered when
seven black slaves, each armed with a
sabre, burst in and stood over the seven
men, throwing them on the ground, and
preparing themselves, on a sign from
their mistress, to cut off their heads.

The seven culprits all thought their last
hour had come, and the Caliph repented
bitterly that he had not taken the vizir’s
advice. But they made up their minds to
die bravely, all except the porter, who
loudly inquired of Zobeida why he was to
suffer for other people’s faults, and
declared that these misfortunes would
never have happened if it had not been
for the kalendars, who always brought ill-
luck. He ended by imploring Zobeida not
to confound the innocent with the guilty
and to spare his life.

In spite of her anger, there was
something so comic in the groans of the
porter that Zobeida could not refrain
from laughing. But putting him aside she
addressed the others a second time,
saying, “Answer me; who are you? Unless
you tell me truly you have not another
moment to live. I can hardly think you
are men of any position, whatever
country you belong to. If you were, you
would have had more consideration for
us.”

The Caliph, who was naturally very
impatient, suffered far more than either
of the others at feeling that his life was at
the mercy of a justly offended lady, but
when he heard her question he began to
breathe more freely, for he was
convinced that she had only to learn his
name and rank for all danger to be over.
So he whispered hastily to the vizir, who
was next to him, to reveal their secret.
But the vizir, wiser than his master,
wished to conceal from the public the
affront they had received, and merely
answered, “After all, we have only got
what we deserved.”
Meanwhile Zobeida had turned to the
three kalendars and inquired if, as they
were all blind, they were brothers.

“No, madam,” replied one, “we are no blood relations at all, only brothers by
our mode of life.”

“And you,” she asked, addressing
another, “were you born blind of one
eye?”

“No, madam,” returned he, “I became
blind through a most surprising
adventure, such as probably has never
happened to anybody. After that I shaved
my head and eyebrows and put on the
dress in which you see me now.”
Zobeida put the same question to the
other two kalendars, and received the
same answer.

“But,” added the third, “it may interest you, madam, to know that we are not
men of low birth, but are all three sons
of kings, and of kings, too, whom the
world holds in high esteem.”

At these words Zobeida’s anger cooled
down, and she turned to her slaves and
said, “You can give them a little more
liberty, but do not leave the hall. Those
that will tell us their histories and their
reasons for coming here shall be allowed
to leave unhurt; those who refuse–” And
she paused, but in a moment the porter,
who understood that he had only to
relate his story to set himself free from
this terrible danger, immediately broke
in,

“Madam, you know already how I came
here, and what I have to say will soon be
told. Your sister found me this morning
in the place where I always stand waiting
to be hired. She bade me follow her to
various shops, and when my basket was
quite full we returned to this house,
when you had the goodness to permit me
to remain, for which I shall be eternally
grateful. That is my story.”

He looked anxiously to Zobeida, who
nodded her head and said, “You can go;
and take care we never meet again.”

“Oh, madam,” cried the porter, “let me
stay yet a little while. It is not just that
the others should have heard my story
and that I should not hear theirs,” and
without waiting for permission he seated
himself on the end of the sofa occupied
by the ladies, whilst the rest crouched on
the carpet, and the slaves stood against
the wall.

Then one of the kalendars, addressing
himself to Zobeida as the principal lady,
began his story.