CHAPTER VI.
On the following day the sixth Vizier, having paid his respects to the
King, represented the danger of letting an enemy live when in one’s
power, and, by many artful speeches, induced his Majesty to order the
execution of Bakhtyār, who was immediately brought from the prison. When
he came before the King, he persisted in declaring his innocence, and
advised him not to be precipitate, like King Dādīn, in putting to death
a person on the malicious accusation of an enemy. The King, desirous of
hearing the story to which Bakhtyār alluded, ordered him to relate it;
and he began as follows:
STORY OF KING DĀDĪN AND HIS TWO VIZIERS.
There was a certain King named Dādīn, who had two viziers, Kārdār and
Kāmgār; and the daughter of Kāmgār was the most lovely creature of the
age. It happened that the King, proceeding on a hunting excursion, took
along with him the father of this beautiful damsel, and left the charge
of government in the hands of Kārdār.
One day, during the warm season, Kārdār, passing near the palace of
Kāmgār, beheld this fair damsel walking in the garden, and became
enamoured of her beauty; but having reason to believe that her father
would not consent to bestow her on him, he resolved to devise some
stratagem whereby he might obtain the object of his desires. “At the
King’s return from the chase,” said he, “I’ll represent the charms of
this damsel in such glowing colours, that he will not fail to demand her
in marriage; and I’ll then contrive to excite his anger against her, in
consequence of which he shall deliver her to me for punishment; and thus
my designs shall be accomplished.”
One day after the King’s return from the hunting party, he desired
Kārdār to inform him of the principal events which had occurred during
his absence. Kārdār replied that his Majesty’s subjects had all been
solicitous for his prosperity; but that he had himself seen one of the
most astonishing objects of the universe. The King’s curiosity being
thus excited, he ordered Kārdār to describe what he had seen; and Kārdār
dwelt with such praises on the fascinating charms of Kāmgār’s daughter,
that the King became enamoured of her, and said: “But how is this damsel
to be obtained?”—Kārdār replied: “There is not any difficulty in this
business; it is not necessary to employ either money or messengers: your
Majesty needs only to acquaint her father with your wishes.”
The King approved of this counsel, and having sent for Kāmgār, mentioned
the affair to him accordingly. Kāmgār, with due submission, declared
that if he possessed a hundred daughters they should all be at his
Majesty’s command; but begged permission to retire and inform the damsel
of the honour designed for her. Having obtained leave, he hastened to
his daughter, and related to her all that had passed between the King
and him. The damsel expressed her dislike to the proposed connection;
and her father, dreading the King’s anger in case of a refusal, knew not
how to act. “Contrive some delay,” said she; “solicit leave of absence
for a few days, and let us fly from this country!” Kāmgār approved of
this advice; and having waited on the King, obtained leave to absent
himself from court for ten days, under pretence of making the
preparations necessary for a female on the eve of matrimony; and when
night came on, he fled from the city with his daughter.
Next day the King was informed of their flight; in consequence of which
he sent off two hundred servants to seek them in various directions, and
the officious Kārdār set out also in pursuit of them. After ten days
they were surprised by the side of a well, taken and bound, and brought
before the King, who, in his anger, dashed out the brains of Kāmgār;
then looking on the daughter of the unfortunate man, her beauty so much
affected him, that he sent her to his palace, and appointed servants to
attend her, besides a cook, who, at his own request, was added to her
establishment. After some time Kārdār became impatient, and enraged at
the failure of his project; but he resolved to try the success of
another scheme.
It happened that the encroachments of a powerful enemy rendered the
King’s presence necessary among the troops; and on setting out to join
the army, he committed the management of affairs and the government of
the city to Kārdār, whose mind was wholly filled with stratagems for
getting the daughter of Kāmgār into his power.
One day he was passing near the palace, and discovered her sitting alone
on the balcony; to attract her attention, he threw up a piece of brick
or tile, and on her looking down to see from whence it came she beheld
Kārdār. He addressed her with the usual salutation, which she returned.
He then began to declare his admiration of her beauty, and the violence
of his love, which deprived him of repose both day and night; and
concluded by urging her to elope with him, saying that he would take as
much money as they could possibly want; or, if she would consent, he was
ready to destroy the King by poison, and seize upon the throne himself.
The daughter of Kāmgār replied to this proposal by upbraiding Kārdār
with his baseness and perfidy. When he asked her how she could ever fix
her affections on the man who had killed her father, she answered, that
such had been the will of God, and she was resolved to submit
accordingly. Having spoken thus, she retired. Kārdār, fearing lest she
should relate to the King what had passed between them, hastened to meet
him as he returned in triumph after conquering his enemies; and whilst
walking along by the side of the King’s horse, began to inform his
Majesty of all that had happened in his absence. Having mentioned
several occurrences, he added, that one circumstance was of such a
nature that he could not prevail on himself to relate it, for it was
such as the King would be very much displeased at hearing.
The King’s curiosity being thus excited, he ordered Kārdār to relate
this occurrence; and he, declaring that it was a most ungrateful task,
informed him that it was a maxim of the wise men: “When you have killed
the serpent, you should also kill its young.” He then proceeded to
relate that, one day during the warm season, being seated near the door
of the harem, he overheard some voices, and his suspicions being
excited, he concealed himself behind the hangings, and listened
attentively, when he heard the daughter of Kāmgār express her affection
for the cook, who, in return, declared his attachment; and they spoke of
poisoning the King in revenge for his having killed her father. “I had
not patience,” added Kārdār, “to listen any longer.”—At this
intelligence the King changed colour with rage and indignation, and on
arriving at the palace, ordered the unfortunate cook to be instantly cut
in two. He then sent for the daughter of Kāmgār, and upbraided her with
the intention of destroying him by poison. She immediately perceived
that this accusation proceeded from the malevolence of Kārdār, and was
going to speak in vindication of herself, when the King ordered her to
be put to death; but being dissuaded by an attendant from killing a
woman, he revoked the sentence of death; and she was tied hands and
feet, and placed upon a camel, which was turned into a dreary
wilderness, where there was neither water nor shade, nor any trace of
cultivation.
Here she suffered from the intense heat and thirst, to such a degree
that, expecting every moment to be her last, she resigned herself to the
will of Providence, conscious of her own innocence. Just then the camel
lay down, and on that spot where they were a fountain of delicious water
sprang forth; the cords which bound her hands and feet dropped off: she
refreshed herself by a hearty draught of the water, and fervently
returned thanks to Heaven for this blessing and her wonderful
preservation. On this the most verdant and fragrant herbage appeared
around the borders of the fountain; it became a blooming and delightful
spot, and the camel placed himself so as to afford his lovely companion
a shade and shelter from the sunbeams.
It happened that one of the King’s camel-keepers was at this time in
pursuit of some camels which had wandered into the desert, and without
which he dared not return to the city. He had sought them for several
days amidst hills and forests without any success. At length on coming
to this spot he beheld the daughter of Kāmgār and the camel, which at
first he thought was one of those he sought, and the clear fountain with
the verdant banks, where neither grass nor water had ever been seen
before. Astonished at this discovery, he resolved not to interrupt the
lady, who was engaged in prayer; but when she had finished, he addressed
her, and was so charmed by her gentleness and piety, that he offered to
adopt her as his child, and expressed his belief that, through the
efficacy of her prayers, he should recover the strayed camels.
This good man’s offer she thankfully accepted; and having partaken of a
fowl and some bread which he had with him, at his request she prayed for
the recovery of his camels. As soon as she had concluded her prayer, the
camels appeared on the skirts of the wilderness, and of their own accord
approached the camel-keeper.
He then represented to the daughter of Kāmgār the danger of remaining
all night in the wilderness, which was the haunt of many wild beasts;
and proposed that she should return with him to the city, and dwell with
him in his house, where he would provide for her a retired apartment, in
which she might perform her devotions without interruption. To this
proposal she consented, and being mounted on her camel, she returned to
the city, and arrived at the house of her companion at the time of
evening prayer. Here she resided for some time, employing herself in
exercises of piety and devotion.
One day the camel-keeper, being desired by the King to relate his past
adventures, mentioned, among other circumstances, the losing of his
camels, the finding them through the efficacy of a young woman’s
prayers, the discovery of a spring where none had been before, and his
adopting the damsel as his daughter: he concluded by telling the King
that she was now at his house, and employed day and night in acts of
devotion.
The King, on hearing this, expressed an earnest wish that he might be
allowed to see this young woman, and prevail on her to intercede with
Providence in his behalf. The camel-keeper, having consented, returned
at once to his house accompanied by the King, who waited at the door of
the apartment where the daughter of Kāmgār was engaged in prayer. When
she had concluded he approached, and with astonishment recognised her.
Having tenderly embraced her, he wept, and entreated her forgiveness.
This she readily granted, but begged that he would conceal himself in
the apartment whilst she should converse with Kārdār, whom she sent for.
When he arrived, and beheld her with a thousand expressions of fondness,
he inquired the means whereby she had escaped; and he told her that on
the day when the King had banished her into the wilderness, he had sent
people to seek her, and to bring her to him. “How much better would it
have been,” added he, “had you followed my advice, and agreed to my
proposal of poisoning the King, who, I said, would endeavour to destroy
you, as he had killed your father! But you rejected my advice, and
declared yourself ready to submit to whatsoever Providence should
decree. Hereafter,” continued he, “you will pay more attention to my
words. But now let us not think of what is past: I am your slave, and
you are dearer to me than my own eyes!” So saying, he attempted to clasp
the daughter of Kāmgār in his arms, when the King, who was concealed
behind the hangings, rushed furiously on him, and put him to death.
After this he conducted the damsel to his palace, and constantly
lamented his precipitancy in having killed her father.
* * * * *
Here Bakhtyār concluded the story; and having requested a further
respite, that he might have an opportunity of proving his innocence, he
was sent back to prison by order of the King.