CHAPTER I.

HISTORY OF KING ĀZĀDBAKHT AND THE VIZIER’S DAUGHTER.

Thus it is recorded by the authors of remarkable histories, and the

narrators of delightful tales, that there was once in the country of

Sīstān, a certain King, possessing a crown and a throne, whose name was

Āzādbakht; and he had a Vizier entitled Sipahsālār, a person of such

bravery and skill that the moon concealed herself among the clouds from

fear of his scimitar. This Vizier had a daughter endowed with such

exquisite beauty that the rose of the garden and the moon of the

heavenly spheres were confounded at the superior lustre of her cheeks.

Sipahsālār loved this daughter with excessive fondness, so that he could

scarcely exist an hour without her. Having gone on an expedition to

inspect the state of the country, it happened that he found himself

under a necessity of passing some time from home. He immediately

despatched confidential persons with orders to bring his daughter to him

from the capital. These persons, having arrived at the Vizier’s palace,

paid their obeisance to the damsel, who ordered her attendants to

prepare for the journey to her father. The horses were instantly

caparisoned, and a litter provided with magnificence suitable to a

princely traveller. The damsel, seated in this, commenced her journey,

and went forth from the city.

It happened that the King, who had gone on a hunting-party, was at that

moment returning from the chase. He beheld the litter with its ornaments

and splendid decorations; and, whilst he gazed, it was borne quite out

of the town. He sent to inquire about it; and the attendants said that

it belonged to the daughter of Sipahsālār, who was going to her father.

When the King’s servants returned and reported to him this intelligence,

he rode up to the litter that he might send his compliments to

Sipahsālār. On his approach the attendants alighted from their horses,

and kissed the ground of respectful obedience. The King, having desired

that they would bear his salutations to the Vizier, and they having

promised punctually to do so, was preparing to turn back, when suddenly,

the wind lifting up a corner of the hangings which covered the litter,

his eyes were fixed by the fascinating beauty of the damsel; and he who

in the chase had sought for game became now the captive prey of this

lovely maid, and fell into the snares of love. At length he ordered the

attendants to despatch a messenger to the north, where Sipahsālār was,

and to inform him that the King would accept his daughter as a wife,

hoping that he might not be esteemed an unworthy son-in-law.

When the attendants heard this, they kissed the ground of obedience,

saying: “Long be the King’s life!—the sovereign of the earth and of the

age, and the ruler of the world! If Sipahsālār could even dream of this

honour, he would be supreme in happiness. But, if the King permit, we

will proceed with the damsel to her father, and inform him of what has

happened, that he may prepare everything necessary for the occasion, and

then send her back to the city.” When the servant of the damsel had thus

spoken, the King, who was displeased with his discourse, exclaimed: “How

darest thou presume to counsel or advise me?” He would have punished the

servant on the spot, but he feared lest the tender heart of his fair

mistress should be distressed thereby. He accordingly remitted the

punishment; and taking the reins into his own hands, he conducted the

litter back towards the city, which he entered at the time when the

shades of evening began to fall.

The next day he assembled the magistrates and chief men; and, having

asked the damsel’s consent to the marriage, he caused the necessary

ceremonies to be performed. The secretaries were employed in writing

letters of congratulation; and Sipahsālār was informed of the insult

offered to him during his absence, which caused the tears to flow from

his eyes whilst he perused the letters of congratulation. He dissembled,

however; and, concealing his vexation, wrote letters to the King, and

addressed him in language of the strongest gratitude, declaring himself

at a loss for words whereby to express his sense of the honour conferred

upon him.

Such was the purport of his letters; but in his mind he cherished hopes

of revenge, and day and night were employed in devising stratagems by

means of which he might obtain it.

After two or three months spent in this manner, Sipahsālār assembled all

the chief officers of the army, and informed them that, confiding in

their secrecy and fidelity, he would communicate to them an affair of

considerable importance. They all assured him of their attachment and

regard; and declared that the flourishing state of the empire was the

result of his wisdom, prudent management, and bravery. To this

Sipahsālār replied: “You all know what actions I have performed, and

what troubles I have undergone, to raise the empire to its present state

of glory and prosperity: but what has been my recompense? You have seen

how the ungrateful monarch carried off my daughter.” Having thus spoken,

a shower of tears fell from his eyes; and the chiefs who were assembled

about him said: “We have been acquainted with this matter for some time,

and it has given us great concern. But now the moment is arrived when we

may depose this king.”

Then Sipahsālār threw open the doors of his treasury, and distributed

considerable sums of money amongst the soldiers; so that in a little

time he assembled a multitude of troops, almost innumerable. He then

resolved to attack the King, and, with that intention, seized, during

the night, upon all the avenues of the city, both on the right hand and

on the left.

The King, astonished and alarmed at the tumult, consulted with the

Queen, saying: “What can we do in this misfortune? For it is a night to

which no morning shall succeed, and a war in which there is not any hope

of peace.”—The Queen replied: “Our only remedy for this evil is to fly

and seek protection in the dominions of some other prince, and solicit

his assistance.”—Āzādbakht approved of this counsel, and resolved to

seek an asylum from the King of Kirmān, who was renowned for his

generosity throughout the world.

In the palace there was a certain door which opened into a subterraneous

passage leading towards the desert. The King gave orders that two horses

should be instantly saddled; and having put on his armour, and taken

from the royal treasury many precious jewels and fastened them in his

girdle, he placed the Queen on one of the horses, and mounting the other

himself, they went forth privately through the door above-mentioned, and

directed their course towards the desert.

Now it happened that the Queen had been for nine months in a state of

pregnancy; and, after travelling during a whole day and night in the

desert, they arrived at the side of a well, whose waters were more

bitter than poison, and unpleasant as the revolutions of inconstant

Fortune. Here the Queen was affected by the pains of labour; whilst heat

and thirst reduced both the King and her to despair: their mouths were

parched up for want of water, and they had no hopes of saving their

lives; for the sword of the enemy was behind them, and before them the

sand of the desert. In this forlorn situation the Queen said: “As it is

impossible for me to proceed any farther, I entreat you to save your own

life, and find out some place where water may be obtained. Though I must

perish here, you may be saved; and a hundred thousand lives such as mine

are not in value equal to a single hair of the King’s head.”—Āzādbakht

replied: “Soul of the world! I can relinquish riches and resign a

throne; but it is impossible to abandon my beloved: her who is dearer to

me than existence itself.”

Thus were they engaged in conversation, when suddenly the Queen brought

forth a son; in beauty he was lovely as the moon, and from the lustre of

his eyes the dreary desert was illumined. The Queen, pressing the infant

to her bosom, began to perform the duties of a mother, when the King

told her that she must not fix her affections on the child, as it would

be impossible to take him with them: “We must, therefore,” added the

King, “leave the infant on the brink of this well, and commit him to the

providence of the Almighty, whose infinite kindness will save him from

destruction.”—They accordingly wrapped up the child in a cloak

embroidered with gold and fastened a bracelet of ten large pearls round

his shoulders; then, leaving him on the brink of the well, they both

proceeded on their journey to Kirmān, whilst their hearts were afflicted

with anguish on account of their helpless infant. When they approached

the capital of Kirmān, the King of that place was informed of their

arrival. He sent his servants to welcome them, and received them with

the greatest respect and hospitality; he provided a princely banquet,

and assembled all the minstrels, and sent his own son and two attendants

to wait on Āzādbakht.

During the feast, whilst the musicians were employed in singing and

playing, and the guests in drinking, whenever the wine came round to

Āzādbakht, his eyes were filled with tears. The King of Kirmān,

perceiving this, desired him to banish sorrow, and to entertain a hope

that Heaven might yet be propitious to him. Āzādbakht replied: “O King

of the world! how can I be cheerful, whilst thus an exile from my home,

and whilst my kingdom and my treasures are in the possession of my

enemies?”

The King of Kirmān then inquired into the particulars of Āzādbakht’s

misfortunes, which he related from beginning to end. The heart of the

King of Kirmān was moved with compassion; and during that whole day he

endeavoured, by every sort of amusement, to divert the mind of his guest

from dwelling on the past misfortunes. The next day he ordered a

powerful army to be led forth, and placed it under the command of

Āzādbakht, who marched immediately towards the capital of his own

dominions. On the King’s approach, Sipahsālār, who had usurped his

authority, fled in confusion, and all the troops, the peasants, and

other inhabitants paid homage to Āzādbakht, and entreated his

forgiveness. He pardoned them; and again ascending the royal throne,

governed his people with justice and generosity; and having liberally

rewarded the King of Kirmān’s soldiers, he sent them back with many rare

and valuable presents for that monarch.

After these transactions, Āzādbakht and his Queen passed their time in a

state of tranquillity, interrupted only by the remembrance of the child

whom they had left in the desert, and whom, they were persuaded, wild

beasts must have devoured the same hour in which they abandoned him: but

they little knew the kindness which Providence had shown him.

It happened that the desert in which they had left the infant was

frequented by a gang of robbers, the chief of whom was named

Farrukhsuwār; and very soon after the King and Queen had departed, these

robbers came to the well; there they discovered a beautiful infant

crying bitterly. Farrukhsuwār alighted from his horse and took up the

child; and his extraordinary beauty induced them to believe him the son

of some prince or illustrious personage. In this opinion they were

confirmed by the ten valuable pearls which were fastened on his

shoulders. As Farrukhsuwār had not any child, he resolved to adopt this

infant as his own, and accordingly bestowed on him the name of Khudādād;

and having taken him to his home, committed him to the care of a nurse.

When he was of a proper age, Farrukhsuwār instructed him in all

necessary accomplishments, and in horsemanship and the use of arms,

which rendered him, with his natural bravery, when fifteen years of age,

able to fight, alone, five hundred men. Farrukhsuwār loved this youth

with such affection that he could not exist one moment without him, and

took him along with him wheresoever he went. Whenever it happened that

the robbers were proceeding to attack a caravan, Khudādād, who felt

compassion for the merchants and travellers, and at all times disliked

the profession of a robber, requested that Farrukhsuwār might dispense

with his attendance, and leave him to guard the castle. Farrukhsuwār

consented that he should not join in attacking the caravan; but

entreated him to accompany the robbers to the scene of action. It

happened, however, one day, that they attacked a caravan consisting of

superior numbers, and of such brave men that they fought against the

robbers with success, and took several of them prisoners. In this action

Farrukhsuwār received a wound, and was near falling into the hands of

his enemies, when Khudādād, mounting his charger, galloped into the

midst of the battle, and put many of them to death.

But it was so ordained that he should fall from his horse; in

consequence of which, he was taken prisoner, and with many of the

robbers, led in chains to the capital.

The chief of the caravan having brought them all before the tribunal of

Āzādbakht, the King’s eyes were no sooner fixed upon the countenance of

Khudādād, than paternal affection began to stir his heart: he wept, and

said: “Alas! if the infant whom I abandoned in the desert were now

alive, he would probably appear such a youth as this!” He continued to

gaze involuntarily upon him, and, desiring him to approach, inquired his

name, and said: “Art thou not ashamed to have abused the favours of

Heaven, which has endowed thee with so much beauty and strength, by

plundering travellers, and seizing on the property to which thou hadst

not any right?”—Khudādād, with tears, replied: “The Lord knows my

innocence, and that I have never partaken of the plunder.”—Āzādbakht

then granted him a free pardon, and took him into his service, desiring

that his chains might be taken off; he also put on him his own robe, and

said: “I now give you the name of Bakhtyār; from this time forth Fortune

shall be your friend.”[25] The King then dismissed the other robbers; to

whom, on condition that they would never again commit any depredations,

he granted not only their lives, but a pension, by which he engaged them

in his service.

After this Bakhtyār continued day and night in attendance on the King,

whose affection for him hourly increased. To his care were entrusted the

royal stables, which he superintended with such skill and good

management that in a few months the horses became fat and sleek; and the

King, one day remarking their improved condition, understood that it was

the result of Bakhtyār’s care and attention, and conceiving that a

person who evinced such abilities was capable of managing more important

matters, he sent for Bakhtyār, at his return to the palace, and ordered

that the keys of the treasury should be presented to him, and thus

constituted him keeper of the treasures. Bakhtyār, having kissed the

ground, was invested with a splendid robe of honour. He discharged the

duties of his high station with such fidelity and attention that he

every day increased in favour with the King, and at length was consulted

on every measure, and entrusted with every secret of his royal master.

If on any day it happened that Bakhtyār absented himself from the

palace, on that day the King would not give audience to any person: and

the advice of Bakhtyār was followed on every occasion of importance. In

short, he was next in power to the King, and his conduct was discreet

and skilful.

But there were Ten Viziers, who became envious of his exaltation, and

conspired against him, resolving to devise some stratagem whereby they

might deprive him of the King’s esteem, and effect his degradation.

It happened one day that Bakhtyār, having indulged in the pleasures of

wine beyond the bounds of moderation, lost the power of his reason, and

continued in a state of sleepy intoxication until night came on and the

world became dark; the porters fastened the gates, and the sentinels

repaired to their respective stations. Bakhtyār, after some time, came

forth from the treasury, but knew not whither he went, so completely had

the wine deprived him of recollection: he wandered on, however, until he

found himself in one of the King’s private apartments, where he saw

tapers burning, a couch with pillows and cushions, a splendid throne, or

seat, and various embroidered robes and silken coverings. This was the

apartment in which the King used to sleep. Here, from excessive

intoxication, Bakhtyār flung himself upon the throne: after a little

while the King entered, and discovering the unfortunate young man,

inquired, with violent anger, his business in that place. Bakhtyār,

roused by the noise, threw himself from the throne, and crept beneath

it, where again he fell asleep.

The King, having called some attendants, ordered them to seize him, and,

drawing his sword, hastened to the Queen, of whom he asked how Bakhtyār

found admittance to the private apartments of the palace; and added,

that he could not have come there without her knowledge. The Queen,

shocked at such an imputation, declared herself ignorant of the whole

transaction but desired the King, if he still entertained any

suspicions, to confine her that night, and inquire into the matter on

the next morning, when her innocence would appear, and the guilty might

be punished. The King accordingly ordered her to be confined, and

suspended the execution of vengeance during that night.

When morning came, being seated on the royal throne, he gave audience to

his ten Viziers. The first of these, having paid his respects to the

King, inquired into the transactions of the preceding night, and was

informed of all that had occurred. The enmity which this Vizier had long

cherished in his heart against Bakhtyār induced him to conceive that a

fair opportunity now offered of destroying that unfortunate young man;

and he said within himself: “Though he may have a thousand lives, he

shall not be able to save one of them.” He then addressed the King, and

said: “How could a person bred up in the desert, and by profession a

robber and assassin, be fit for the service of a King? I well knew that

his wickedness would appear, but durst not say so; now, however, that it

is manifest, let the King ordain for him such a punishment as may be a

lesson to all the world.”—The King gave orders that Bakhtyār should be

brought before him. “Ungrateful wretch!” said he, “I forgave your

offences; I spared your life; I raised you to dignities almost equal to

my own; and you requite these favours by treason and perfidy: you have

entered into the recesses of my harem, and have presumed to occupy my

place.”—Bakhtyār on hearing this began to weep; declared himself

ignorant of all those transactions, and that if he had been found in the

royal apartments, he must have wandered there unconsciously.

The first Vizier solicited the King’s permission that he might go to the

harem, and inquire from the Queen all that she knew concerning this

affair. Having obtained permission, he went to the Queen, and told her,

that there were various reports on the subject of that young robber

Bakhtyār, in which she was implicated; that, as the King was exceedingly

enraged against her, the only means whereby she could appease his anger

would be to accuse Bakhtyār, and to say,—“O King! thou hast brought

hither the son of a robber; thou hast bestowed on him the name of

‘Fortune’s Favourite,’ and hast exalted him to honours; but his baseness

has at length appeared: he has presumed to make amorous proposals to me,

and has threatened, should I not comply with his licentious desires, to

use violence with me, to kill the King, and to seize upon the throne.”

“This declaration,” said the Vizier to the Queen, “will induce the King

to order the immediate execution of Bakhtyār, and you will at the same

time reestablish yourself in his good opinion.”—The Queen was

astonished, and replied: “How can I, even to save myself, thus destroy

the life of an innocent person by a false testimony?”

“The life of Bakhtyār,” said the Vizier, “has long been forfeited to the

laws, since he exercised the profession of a robber and a murderer;

therefore, any scruples on that subject are vain; and I’ll answer at the

day of judgment for your share in this transaction.”

The Queen at last consented to follow the Vizier’s advice; and he

returned to the presence of the King, who desired to know the result of

his conference with the Queen. The artful Vizier replied: “That which I

have heard, I have not the power of relating; but the Queen herself will

tell it.” The King, having retired, sent for the Queen, and she repeated

to him all that the Vizier had instructed her to say. The King,

acknowledging that he was himself to blame, as having bestowed favours

on the base-born son of a robber, gave orders that heavy irons should be

put on the feet of Bakhtyār, and sent him to prison; declaring that in

due time he should suffer such a punishment as would strike terror into

all men.

In the meantime, Bakhtyār languished in the prison, appealing to God for

relief; and the Viziers returned to their homes, devising means whereby

they might induce the King to hasten the execution of the young man.