Persian Literature, Ancient and Modern

by Elizabeth A. Reed

The sorrowful exiles rode slowly onward, all unmindful of the beauty of the morning, which was gilding with glory the crowns of the palm-trees. They were leaving behind them all that they held most dear, and going forth into the world with no provision for the future, save the little sum that the generous Behzād had been able to provide.

Merely to gratify the unreasonable whim of a royal autocrat, they were thus banished from home and friends, and with hearts full of bitterness they scarcely cared whither they went.

They had taken the road to Isfahān, but before they reached the city they saw in the distance an old gray castle which looked as if it had withstood the storms of centuries, and with half a mind to test the hospitality of the occupants, they reined their horses toward it. The castle gates were opened as if some kindly eye had noted their coming, but a little band of horsemen issued therefrom, and, fearing some unfriendly act, the travelers turned away. Their caution came too late, for in a moment more they were attacked and overpowered by the banditti, and being bound they were carried captive to the castle where they had hoped for a kindly reception.

Here they were robbed of every article of value upon their persons, and an order was issued for their execution; but behind the Persian hangings of the castle hall there were white hands moving nervously amidst the rich colors of silken embroidery, and a woman’s heart listened breathlessly to the cruel death sentence.

Then the beautiful wife of the chief went to her room, and sent a messenger into the council of the banditti with an urgent summons for the presence of her lord.

“How canst thou be so cruel?” she demanded with flashing eyes, “hast thou not robbed these illfated youths of every jewel upon their persons—nay hast thou not even taken the most costly articles from their wardrobes? Why shouldst thou add to thy guilt the crime of murder?” Half ashamed of his cruel decree, and wholly afraid of forfeiting the respect of his wife, the chieftain promised to commute their punishment, and hastily returning to the castle hall he demanded that the captives be taken to the desert and abandoned without food amidst its pitiless sands.

THE DESERT.

And thus it happened that Mūshteri and his faithful Bader found themselves alone and destitute in a desert where no caravans might pass for many months—where no palm-tree lifted its plumes in the distance, to tell of the spring in the oasis beneath its feet. The evening was cool and restful, even in the desert, and the exiles slept, for their lives were spared, and though their chance was small, it was surely better than certain death.

But the sun arose as if in anger, and as it climbed higher and higher the air became hot as that crimson haze, by which the prostrate caravan is often buried in the red desert, when the simoon is abroad on its mission of death. They wandered hopelessly, looking in vain for some sign of an oasis, until overpowered by the intense heat, Mūshteri, still weak from recent illness, fell upon the burning sand. Then Bader bent above him, trying to shield him from the pitiless sun as far as possible, by the shelter of his own body, and thus they remained until night came down again with its cooling shadows. They passed day after day in terrible suffering, until all hope of relief had fled, and they awaited the coming of death with hope rather than fear.

The faithful Bader was no longer able to shield his master with his own body, but lay helpless by his side, when the sun again came forth from the chambers of the east and began to beat upon them with apparently redoubled fury; but the boy raised his head to search once more the fiery horizon, and in the distance he seemed to see the figure of a camel. He wondered if the delirium of death was cheating him with a hope of deliverance, and he gazed until another seemed to appear behind the first; then he aroused Mūshteri by telling him of his great hope, and together they watched what seemed to be the slow coming of a caravan. After a time a long line of camels could be seen moving patiently and wearily over the heated sands, but they were not coming directly toward the exiles, and unless they could change their position considerably, the caravan must pass them far to the southward. With an effort they struggled to their feet, and Bader, who was still the stronger, partially supported Mūshteri, while they slowly and painfully traveled toward the line of the caravan’s march. They could now see that the camels were laden, apparently with goods, and it was probably some merchant’s expedition returning from a long journey.