BAKÁWALÍ, ON AWAKING, DISCOVERS THAT HER ROSE HAS BEEN STOLEN, SETS OUT IN SEARCH OF THE THIEF DISGUISED AS A MAN, AND TAKES SERVICE WITH THE PRINCE’S FATHER, THE KING OF THE EAST—THE FAIRIES BUILD A GRAND PALACE FOR THE PRINCE, LIKE THAT OF BAKÁWALÍ—THE KING HEARS OF THE NEW PALACE—STORY OF THE PRINCESS AND THE DEMON WHO EXCHANGED SEXES—THE PRINCE’S FATHER AND BRETHREN, WITH BAKÁWALÍ (DISGUISED), VISIT HIM AT HIS PALACE, AND HE DISCLOSES HIMSELF.
Let us now return to Bakáwalí, whom we left asleep on her beautiful couch. When she awoke she fastened her bodice, put her dress in order, drew the comb through her hair, and went to the lake where grew her cherished Rose. On reaching the bank she discovered that the precious flower was gone, and at the same moment perceived that she wore a different ring from her own. “O Heaven!” cried she, “is it a dream or the effect of magic? But no; only a man could have done this deed, for none but a human being could elude the vigilance of the dívs. None is equal to thee in daring, and an ordinary man I am sure thou art not. Gold and silver are stolen by thieves; but thou art not a common robber. If I could but see thee I would lay thy hands on my eyes and kiss them over and over. Thou hast made a mine in my bosom and stolen away my heart. To thy satisfaction thou hast not seen me; but I doubt not thou hast feasted thy eyes with a sight of these lips, and who knows, but thou mayest have tasted the honey therefrom? Thou hast stolen the gold, and the casket only is here.” Bakáwalí then returned into her palace and summoned her attendants in order to have them punished for their carelessness, forgetting the maxim that “when the arrow of Fate is shot none can arrest it with the shield of prudence,” and said to them: “If you wish to live, bring the thief to me immediately.” They did as desired, but no trace whatever of the thief could be found. Bakáwalí resolved to go herself in quest of him. Rendering herself invisible to all eyes, she reached the capital of Zayn ul-Mulúk, where she beheld everywhere preparations being made for a festival, and heard on all sides the sound of musical instruments. Curious to know the cause of these rejoicings, she assumed the form of a young man, and inquired of the first person she met: “What is the reason of the mirth which prevails among the inhabitants of this city?” “The king,” replied the citizen, “was blind; but his sons, after searching a long time and coming through unheard-of trials, have at last succeeded in obtaining the Rose of Bakáwalí, which has restored his sight. On this account the padisháh has ordered that every one should give himself up to pleasure for a year, and that the sound of the naubat[150] should everywhere be heard.”
Bakáwalí, delighted to hear tidings, at least, of her Rose, was in hopes of soon discovering the person who had stolen it from her. Returning to the bank of the river, she bathed in order to refresh herself after the fatigue of her journey, and having dressed, she proceeded to the royal palace. She was introduced to Zayn ul-Mulúk, who inquired of her who she was, and whence and why she had come. Bakáwalí answered thus, very composedly: “Your slave comes from the country of the west which is called Farrukh.[151] I have left my home in the hope of entering the service of your majesty, and I venture to express the wish that I may be admitted among the number of officers attached to your royal person.” “I accept your services,” said the king; “remain with me.” For some time Bakáwalí performed her new duties, till one day the four sons of the king presented themselves at court. Zayn ul-Mulúk, according to his custom, received them most affectionately, pressed them to his bosom, kissed their heads and eyes, and made them sit beside himself. Bakáwalí asked an attendant who these personages were, and was informed that they were the king’s own sons. Then with the touch-stone of discernment she tested the gold of their countenances, and felt convinced that it was not pure. “Has the king no other son,” she inquired, “who went with these in search of the Rose of Bakáwalí?” “He has not,” was the answer.[152] The fairy princess loved him who had taken possession of her ring, and her heart told her that he was of a quite different stamp from these four sons of Zayn ul-Mulúk. In despair, that after so many difficulties she had discovered traces of her Rose, but still could not find out the one who had plucked it, she cursed the fate which had sported with her prudent devices, and remained convinced that these princes had not plucked the Rose and that the king had another son. So she resolved to be patient and see what should come from behind the veil of mystery.
When the four wicked brothers of Táj ul-Mulúk had deprived him of the Rose of Bakáwalí he was at first confounded, but soon afterwards followed them, and when he arrived at the frontiers of his father’s country, and found himself in a dense jungle full of wild beasts, he recollected the hair which Hammála had given him, and placed it on a fire which he lighted by means of a flint. There was not a quarter of it burnt when the fairy presented herself before him, accompanied by a thousand dívs, and asked him in what way she could be of service to him. The prince, after apologising for the liberty he had taken in summoning her, replied that he wished to have, then and in that spot, a palace equal to that of Bakáwalí, upon which the fairy despatched some of her followers to the four corners of the earth, to fetch the rubies of Badakshán, the carnelians of Yaman, and abundance of gold and silver and all kinds of precious stones. Within three days the dívs returned laden with treasures and at once began to erect a palace as instructed by the sháh-záda. It was soon finished, and one would have said that it was actually the palace of Bakáwalí. One fourth of the precious stones brought by the dívs could not be used and were deposited in the treasury of the palace. When all was ready, Hammála reminded the prince that what she had just done for him was on account of her love for Mahmúda, and counselled him never to soil with the dust of sorrow the robe of that damsel, and then departed.
Táj ul-Mulúk proceeded in great state to seek Dilbar and Mahmúda at the place where they were to wait for him. He provided them with palankíns, which were decorated with priceless gems and beautiful brocaded curtains, and preceded by slaves on horseback, carrying sticks of gold and silver in their hands. In this manner did he bring them to his palace, where they passed the time very agreeably.
One day, as a slave of the prince, named Sa’íd, was strolling through the forest he came upon some woodcutters, and asked them whither they were carrying the faggots they had prepared. “We are,” said they, “men of the east country, and it is by the sale of our wood that we support our families.” The slave desired them to convey their burdens to the house of his master, promising they should be richly recompensed. The men answered that they had never seen any sign of a habitation in that forest. “Follow me,” said the slave, “and you will soon be convinced I speak the truth, and that my master’s house is not far distant.” The woodcutters complied in the hope of gain, and soon arrived near the palace of Táj ul-Mulúk. As the precious stones of which its walls were built reflected the rays of the sun, they thought it was a great fire. “May God preserve us,” they cried, “from the devil, who has been stoned![153] We will not go a step farther.” “Calm yourselves,” replied Sa’íd; “what you see is not fire, but the brilliancy of the stones which cover the walls. Continue to follow me, and fear nothing.” When they reached the palace, Sa’íd brought them before Táj ul-Mulúk, who received them with great kindness, and gave to each a handful of pearls and precious stones, saying to them that if they would come and stay with him he would give them every day twice as much as they had just received. So they left their own country and settled there. The news spread far and wide, and many others followed the example of the wood-men, and those who went remained in this new city. Every day the Kutwál[154] was complaining to the minister of Zayn ul-Mulúk of the migration of his subjects, and how even in one night a thousand had quitted the capital. The minister inquired whither they had gone. “I have heard,” said the kutwál, “that in a forest a city has been built on foundations of gold, and that a palace has been erected which is unequalled in earth. The generosity of the king of that city bids fair to erase the name of Hatim[155] from the minds of the people; and such is the fame of his justice that the glory of Núshírván is eclipsed.”[156] The minister asked: “How can a man do what is beyond the power of mortals to perform?” “But I have been credibly informed of it many times,” said the kutwál. “And that powerful God who transformed a man into a woman and metamorphosed a woman into a man can also bestow wealth (which is like a beautiful woman) on a human being. Have you not heard of the princess who borrowed virility from a dív and married a wife?” “No,” answered the vazír. “Attend then,” said the kutwál:
Story of the Princess and the Dív who exchanged sexes.
In ancient times there lived a king, who had a hundred beautiful girls in his haram yet had no issue by any one of them. At length one of them gave birth to a daughter, and afterwards she bore three other children, but every time a female. When she was pregnant for the fourth time the king swore that if a daughter was born again he would have both the child and the mother destroyed. It happened that a daughter was again born; but lovely and fairy-like was the infant. The mother, anxious to preserve the life of her darling, gave out that it was a son, and prevailed upon the astrologers to counsel the king not to see the child’s face for ten years, for should he do so harm would come to him, and the father agreed to do as they desired.
When the girl grew up in years and understanding, and the prescribed period was near expiring, the mother explained matters to her, and requested her to assume the garb of a young man and thus appear before the king, so that in this way both their lives might be preserved. The daughter followed her mother’s instructions, and in due course she was betrothed to the daughter of another monarch. When the wedding-day approached, the king caused her to be clothed in rich garments, and, placing her in a golden litter, despatched her to the country of the bride. The girl sometimes wept and sometimes laughed at the situation in which she was placed. At last when she reached a dense forest, where she had occasion to stay for the night, she could bear her shame no longer, and finding life nothing less than a burden, she left her litter secretly and wandered far into the wood, trusting that some beast of prey would destroy her.
After roaming about for some time, she found herself under the branches of a tall, umbrageous tree, in which dwelt a dív, who immediately fell in love with her beauty. In the shape of a young man he appeared to her, and inquired the cause of her distress. The girl told her story frankly, upon which the heart of the dív melted, and he offered to change her into a man and himself into a woman for a short time. She consented to this, and the transformation took place at once, after which she took her leave, with a light and happy heart, and rejoined her attendants unperceived by any of them. In a few days more they reached the country of the bride. The marriage was consummated and the old king returned to his own country. The prince who was originally a princess remained with his spouse until a child was born to him, and then he set out on a visit to his father. In passing through the forest he sought out the tree and found the dív sitting there in the form of a woman. “O dív,” cried the prince, “through thy favour I have obtained the wish of my heart. Take back your virility and restore my womanhood to me.” But this the dív could not do, as in the form of a woman he had fallen in love with another dív and expected soon to become a mother. “Therefore,” added the dív, “do thou retain thy manhood: I am content to remain a woman.”[157]