The old man at length arrived at home, and introduced Assad into a large room, where he saw forty old men, sitting in a circle, round a lighted fire, to which they were paying their adorations. Prince Assad felt not less horror at thus seeing human beings, so far deprived of their reason, as to offer that reverence to the creature in preference to the Creator, than he experienced fear at seeing himself so deceived, and in such an abominable and wicked place.
While the prince stood quite motionless in the spot where he was, the artful old man, who had brought him, saluted the other forty. “Fervent and devout adorers of fire,” said he to them, “this is a most happy day for us. Where is Gazban?” added he, “let him come in.” As these words were spoken in a loud tone of voice, a black who heard them, without the room, immediately made his appearance. This black, who was in fact Gasban, no sooner perceived the disconsolate Assad, than he understood for what purpose he was called. He ran towards him, and with a blow that he gave him, knocked him down; he then bound his arms with the most surprising quickness. He had no sooner done this, than the old man called out, “Carry him below, and do not fail to tell my daughters, Bostana and Cavama, to take particular care, and give him enough of the bastinado every day, with only one piece of bread night and morning for him to subsist upon. This will be quite enough for his mere existence till the departure of the vessel for the blue sea, and the mountain of fire; we will offer him as a most acceptable sacrifice to our divinity.”
The old man had no sooner given these cruel orders, that Gazban seized Assad in the most rough and brutal manner, and made him go down under the room, and after leading him through several doors, they came to a dungeon, into which they descended by twenty steps, and in which the black fastened him by his legs to a large and very heavy chain. As soon as he had done this, Gazban went to inform the old man’s daughters; their father had, however, already spoken to them himself. “My daughters,” he said to them, “go down below, and bestow the bastinado in the manner you know that every mussulman, whom I make captive, ought to receive it; and do not spare him. You cannot, by any better means, evince, that you are true worshippers of fire.”
Bostana and Cavama, having been brought up with the greatest detestation of all mussulmen, accepted this office with joy. They immediately went down to the dungeon, and having stripped Assad, they beat him so inhumanly, that he was covered with blood, and at last fainted. After this merciless action, they placed a piece of bread and a jar of water by his side, and left him. It was a long time before the prince returned to his senses, and he then only shed torrents of tears, in deploring his miserable fate; consoling himself, however, with the idea, that this misfortune had not happened to his brother Amgiad.
In the mean time, prince Amgiad waited for his brother at the foot of the mountain till sun-set with the greatest impatience. When he found, that one, two, three, and even four hours of the night were gone, and that Assad did not make his appearance, he began to be in the greatest agitation, and even despair. He passed the night in this most distressing and anxious state, and as soon as day appeared, he set out towards the town. He was at first very much astonished at seeing so few mussulmen. He stopped the first he met, and asked him what was the name of the place. He was informed, it was called the city of the Magi, because the Magi, who were idolaters of fire, resided in great numbers in it, and that there were very few mussulmen. He inquired also how far they reckoned it to the Isle of Ebony; when he was told for answer, that by sea it was about four months voyage, and a year’s journey by land. The person, to whom he had addressed himself, after having satisfied him in these particulars, abruptly left him, and continued his road, as he was in haste.
Amgiad, who had not been more than six weeks in coming from the Isle of Ebony with his brother Assad, could not comprehend how they had come so far in so short a time, unless it were by enchantment, or that the road over the mountain which they had traversed was much shorter, though not at all frequented, on account of its difficulty and danger. In walking about the town, he stopped at the shop of a tailor, whom, by his dress, he knew to be a mussulman, as he had also known the former person whom he had accosted. After having made his compliments to him, he sat down and informed him of the cause of the great distress he was in.
When prince Amgiad had finished, the tailor said to him, “If your brother has fallen into the hands of any one of the Magi, you may make up your mind never to see him again. He is gone past recovery; and I advise you to console yourself, and only to endeavour to preserve yourself from the same disgraceful fate. To assist you in this, you may, if you please, remain with me; and I will inform you of all the cunning and artful tricks of the Magi, in order that you may be upon your guard against them, when you go out.” Amgiad was greatly afflicted at the loss of his brother. He accepted the tailor’s offer, and thanked him a thousand times for the kindness he showed him.
This prince did not go out of the house for a whole month except in company with the tailor. At the end of this time he risked going alone to the bath. As he returned, he passed through a street, where he did not see a single person, except a lady whom he met, and who came up to him.
This lady, observing him to be a handsome and well-made young man, and fresh from the bath, lifted up her veil, and asked him with a smiling countenance where he was going; casting at the same time a most enticing glance on him. Amgiad was unable to resist the appearance of so many charms, and in reply said, “I am going to my own house, or to yours, whichever you like best.”—“Sir,” answered the lady, with an engaging smile, “ladies of my rank and disposition never carry men home with them, they only accompany them to their houses.”
Amgiad was in the greatest embarrassment at this answer, which he did not in the least expect. He was afraid of taking the liberty to carry her to the house of his host, who would be much scandalized at it, and he should thus run the risk also of losing his protection, which was so necessary in a town where so many precautions were to be taken. The little experience, also, he had in the town, made him ignorant of any place to which he might carry her; he could not, however, resolve to let his good fortune escape him. In this uncertain state he determined to leave every thing to chance; and without answering the lady a word, he went on, and she followed him.