Within a short distance of the city gates, Hatim beheld a large concourse of people; and as he approached nearer, he could hear the sound of many voices, as if they were engaged in debate. On his arrival among them, he asked one of them, “Tell me, my friend, what is the cause of this uproar which I hear?”—“The daughter of our chief is dead,” replied the man, “and they are insisting that her husband shall consent to be buried alive with her, a measure which he does not seem to relish: this, stranger, is the cause of the tumult which you now witness.”—“Worthy sir,” resumed Hatim, “is it your custom too, to bury the living with the dead? I see this unfortunate man is anything but compliant; surely you will not cast him alive into the tomb. Have you not in your hearts the fear of God, in whose hands are life and death?”
The chief himself having heard Hatim’s expostulation, said, “Hear me, stranger, before you condemn us. This young man, who was my daughter’s husband, once came into our city a traveller like yourself. He took up his residence among us, and in the course of time fell desperately in love with my daughter. The flame was mutual, so that I had no objections to their union, provided he should conform with our custom, which is, that if the wife dies first, the husband shall be buried alive with her. To this he agreed, and now he will not perform his promise.”
Hatim, on hearing the merits of the case, addressed the young man, and said, “Shame upon you, why do you not perform your promise? Life is at best but short and uncertain; and for this you are willing to stain your reputation!” The young man with tears in his eyes, said, “Generous stranger, have you too ranked yourself among my enemies? Let me ask you if such a custom would be tolerated in your own country?”
“That,” said Hatim, “is not the question at present, but whether you ought to fulfil your agreement.”—“It is madness,” replied the young man; “and while I live I will not submit to it.” When Hatim saw that, on the one hand, the people would not inter the dead body; and, on the other, the husband would not consent to be buried alive, he took the latter aside, and whispered to him, “Do you consent to be buried, and at a proper opportunity, I pledge you my faith that I will release you.”—“But how am I to live in the tomb,” said the man, “till you aid in my resurrection?”—“Leave that to me,” said Hatim, “I will provide for you.”
Hatim then addressed the people aloud, and said, “The young man consents to be buried alive; but the tomb must be made like a cell as it is in his own country, with an aperture left to let in air and the light of day. If, therefore, you form the tomb like a cell, with a small window, the young man is willing to comply with your custom.”—“So much indulgence,” replied the chief, “it is not in my power to grant; but I am ready to refer the case to the magistrate, and abide by his decision.” The parties concerned, along with Hatim, went forthwith to the judge of the village, who after a great deal of deliberation, decided that the young man should have a tomb made for him after the fashion of his own country; “for it would not become us,” said his Worship, “to deal rigorously with a foreigner, although the law is in our favor.”
The people immediately set to work; and having finished the cell, they there incarcerated the surviving husband with the dead wife, and planted a guard over him to prevent his escape. As he was about to be shut up, Hatim gave him every assurance that he would release him at midnight, and therefore he might without fear comply with the custom of the place. The people having shut the tomb, which they secured with a large stone, strewed various flowers over and around it, so that the grave was covered with them. They then, except the sentinel, returned to the city, whither they conducted Hatim. They entertained him in the most hospitable manner, and provided him with an elegant mansion for his residence. Hatim having appeased his hunger and thirst, and enjoyed some hours of repose, began to watch for an opportunity of rescuing his friend from the tomb.
When midnight had arrived, and all the people were asleep, Hatim stole out quietly, and made his way to the burial-ground. But there he had to cope with a difficulty on which he had not calculated. It was one of the customs of that city, that when a person was buried, all the male relations of the deceased should fast, and watch and pray on the tomb for three days and nights, without ever going near their wives and families; Hatim, therefore, was forced to keep aloof during the whole of that period. On the fourth night, however, when the guards had retired to their houses, Hatim lost no time in visiting the tomb; meanwhile the unhappy inmate had full time to feel the horrors of his situation. Often did he weep and exclaim, “Fool that I was, to believe the promise of a false stranger! By his treachery, he prevailed upon me to shut myself up to perish in this dungeon, and now he has gone and left me to my fate! Alas, how dearly must I pay for my folly!”
Thus did the despairing young man fret and lament till the fourth evening, when hunger had so weakened him that he lay as senseless as the dead around him. When Hatim reached the cell, he applied his mouth to the aperture, and in a soft voice said, “My dear friend, I am at last come to release you; if you are still alive, answer me.” But, ere then the young man was so exhausted with hunger and despair, that the voice of aid reached not his ear. Hatim’s generous heart was grieved, for he thought the man must have died. He hesitated whether he should clear away the earth and remove the stone. “It is in vain,” said he to himself, “the inmate is now no more; and heaven knows, I would willingly give my own life to save his.”
Again, Hatim thought it best not to desist while the least hope remained: he therefore repeated his former words, in a voice more loud and distinct: but still no answer returned from the mansion of the dead. He gave way to grief and despair, for he now became convinced that his friend was dead, otherwise he would have heard the voice and returned an answer. A third time, however, in a still louder tone, Hatim exclaimed, “O my friend, if your life still remains, and is dear to you, answer me: otherwise, here shall you rest till the day of judgment. I have exerted all my power to save you, but God’s will be done.”
The young man was at length awakened from his trance. Exhausted as he was, he recognized the voice of Hatim; he therefore with great effort drew near the window of his cell, and said, “Stranger, are you the man who engaged to relieve me, and are you come at last to fulfil your promise?” When Hatim heard this his joy was excessive; he devoutly thanked the Ruler of events, and said to the young man, “I am indeed the very person you allude to; rest still a little, till I make way for your escape.”