Hatim then cleared away the earth and masses of stone which composed the tomb; and having effected a passage sufficiently large, he took the hand of the almost lifeless young man, and brought him out into the open air. In a very short time the young man’s strength and spirits were restored; which when Hatim observed, he said to him, “My good friend, you must lose no time in effecting your escape; fly, then, wherever you think proper.”—“My noble benefactor,” replied he, “my journey is long, and I have nothing wherewith to support myself.” Hatim immediately gave him a handful of gold pieces from his scrip, and urged his instant flight. The young man having thanked his benefactor, betook himself to the road, and escaped safe under the shades of night, while Hatim rebuilt the tomb as it was previously, and returned to his residence. He entered unobserved by any one; and having shut the doors, laid himself down to rest in that happy state of mind which the virtuous alone can enjoy. He awaked not till the next morning was considerably advanced, and all the people astir and ready for their morning meal. Hatim then arose; and after partaking of their food, thanked them for their hospitality, and took leave of them, saying, “I must now leave you, my friends, for I am bound for the mountain of Nida; my journey admits of no delay, as it is now a long period since I left Shahabad.”—“Noble stranger,” said the people, “your adventure is daring; but if you must go, the mountain of Nida is nearly a month’s journey from this place. You will first reach a city of the same name close to the mountain, and the natives will give you every requisite information for your future proceedings.”
Hatim resumed his journey; and at parting the people told him, that after he should have marched some nine or ten days, the road separated into two branches, of which he was to take that towards the right, which would lead him to the city of Nida. Hatim advanced without any interruption till the tenth day, when he came to the two roads; by a strange forgetfulness, he took the left-hand path instead of the right. Thither he marched; but at times he had some misgivings in his own mind that he had taken the wrong road. After he had toiled for four days in this direction, he found himself in the midst of a jungle abounding with wild beasts and birds of prey. Hatim stood still for some time at the foot of a tree, expecting every moment to be torn to pieces.
As he stood listening, he heard all at once a tremendous roaring of monsters at no great distance from him. As a last resource, he climbed up to the top of a tree, and almost instantly he saw wild elephants, lions, tigers, and other wild beasts rush by him in full flight. Close at their heels followed an animal of ordinary size, but of most terrible aspect, such as Hatim had never seen or heard of before. His eyes were like two balls of fire, and his tail was on the crown of his head. The very sight of him was enough to terrify the bravest of men.
Hatim trembled from the centre of his heart. “Alas, Hatim,” said he to himself, “thy life is surely at an end, for how canst thou escape?” But again, Hatim thought better of his condition; he put his trust in God, who never forsakes his servants; and knowing that in His hands only are life and death, he drew his scimitar from the scabbard, and with a steady hand and firm heart awaited the result. Meanwhile the monstrous animal with eyes of fire came close to the tree where Hatim had taken refuge, and being of quick scent, he soon discovered what was among the branches. He made a spring at the tree with such force that he broke it through the middle, when both it and Hatim fell with a crash upon the ground. Another leap brought him close to Hatim, who must have been within his claws had not the branches of the tree protected him. Hatim soon recovered his presence of mind; and seizing his scimitar, he plunged it into the side of the monster, which laid him prostrate upon the ground. As the wound, however, was not mortal, the enraged beast jumped to his feet and made a plunge at the devoted Hatim, who dexterously eluded his grasp, and with his sword gave him another thrust in the body, so that he fell to rise no more. But though the dragon lay mortally wounded, his power of mischief had not yet ceased. He raised a howling noise that made the earth tremble, and lashed the trees around him with his tail. From his mouth and nostrils issued streams of fire, which set the surrounding forest in a blaze. Hatim in the meantime had climbed up the nearest tree as soon as he saw his enemy fallen, and there waited till he saw that no spark of life remained in the monster. At last the tree which he occupied took fire; he was forced, therefore, to leap down with all speed, and such was the violence of his fall, that he lay stunned for some time. When he recovered, the first thing he did was to break the four fangs of the dead monster, which in sharpness resembled so many daggers. These, with the tail and two ears, he carried off with him, in order to keep them as a trophy; and he then resumed his journey.
Hatim at length gained the open plain, and was delighted at seeing a town strongly fortified with lofty walls. On a nearer approach, he discovered towering above the rest a royal mansion, whose glittering turrets reared their pinnacles to the clouds; but no appearance of any living creature did he see. He entered the gates, within which he found every sign of the city being lately inhabited. He saw numerous warehouses, and bazars full of every commodity, but the most deathly silence prevailed throughout.
Hatim looked around on this scene of lifelessness, and wondered in his own mind what could have caused such desolation. He approached the royal residence, which formed the citadel of the town, and in which the king and his family had shut themselves up. On seeing Hatim at a distance, the king said to those around him, “Praised be the Lord, a human being has at length entered our city.” The king then ordered a domestic to call out to the stranger, and invite him to the palace gate. The man accordingly shouted, and Hatim hastened his pace till he stood at the portal. The king opened a window, and said to Hatim, “Welcome, noble stranger, may peace be upon you.” Hatim courteously returned the royal salutation, whereupon his Majesty asked him, “Who are you, brave sir, and whence came you?”—“I am an Arab,” replied Hatim, “and I come from Shahabad; and, moreover, I am going to the mountain of Nida.”—“Truly, brave Arab,” said the king, “you have taken the wrong road to Nida; you ought to have held by the right-hand road, and you have chosen the left. But what is decreed must happen; perhaps the hour of your death is at hand, fate has therefore led you hither.”
Hatim devoutly replied, “If such be the will of God, I am content; for what power is there in mortal man to help himself? Meanwhile, royal sir, for such you seem to be, have the goodness to tell me who you are, and what is the cause of your being thus shut up in your citadel?”—“I am,” replied the other, “king of this country; but of late, my city was visited by a scourge in the shape of a fiery dragon, which forced all my subjects to fly for their lives. They took with them their wives and children, and abandoned the city, while I, with my family and friends, having placed our reliance upon God, sought refuge here, it being too late for us to make our escape, and we have not the power to cope with the monster.”
Hatim requested the king to give him a more minute description of the dragon that had created such dismay in his dominions; to which his Majesty replied, “A terrible creature, which we call the Siyah-dil[2], came down from the mountain Kaf, and made his haunt within our boundaries. Every day he used to come into the city and devour multitudes of the inhabitants, till no one is left living. The citadel he has not as yet been able to enter, for it is surrounded by a deep and wide ditch. Once a day, however, the monster makes the attempt of springing from the further side to the top of the wall; but fortunately it is more than he can accomplish; he always falls short of the top, and rolls headlong into the water.”
When Hatim heard the king’s account, he said, “Sire, let your mind be at peace; for, by the aid of heaven, I have slain your enemy, which I am convinced is the same that attacked me in the forest.” Hatim then detailed the whole circumstance, as already mentioned; whereupon, the king immediately admitted him into the citadel, and, treating him with the highest respect and offering him food and drink becoming a prince, he said, “Brave stranger, I doubt not your honor; but, in order to satisfy my friends and subjects, you will forgive me if I request of you some proof of what you have stated.” Hatim immediately produced the teeth and ears of the Siyah-dil; on seeing which, the king was so delighted that he prostrated himself at his feet and loaded him with encomiums.
His Majesty thereafter despatched those who were near him in all directions with letters certifying the death of the Siyah-dil, and inviting his subjects to return to their homes. In the course of a few days the city was restored to its former life and bustle; and Hatim, taking leave of the king, requested to have a guide to conduct him to the mountain of Nida. The king tried to induce Hatim to stay with him, and said, “Bravest of men, why will you leave me? This city and these realms are yours. I am now old, and have an only daughter; accept her for your wife, and you shall reign in my stead.”—“Generous sire,” returned Hatim, “at present my vow forbids me to accept aught earthly that may benefit myself, till I have discharged a sacred duty which I owe to a friend.”