tied him by the hands, and then the seven were bound to each other and led to the centre of the hall.
One of the executioners addressed the mistress of the house. “Our most noble and virtuous lady. Shall we behead them this instant?”
Hearing this, the porter wailed and wept, pointed at the dervishes and said, “I am innocent. I don’t wish to die because of the mistakes of others. These dervishes were indeed a bad omen.” He began to recite:
“Great is the mercy of the Almighty,
And greatest when bestowed upon the weak.
Now upon our bond of undying friendship I implore you,
Never cast aside an old friend when a new one you seek.”
Hearing this, the three ladies nearly giggled, especially the mistress of the house. But she controlled herself and ignored him,saying, “Wait, let me question our guests before you strike off their heads.”
She addressed the dervishes and the merchants.
“Were you not men of power and distinction you wouldn’t have dared to offend us in this way. So tell—who are you?”
The merchant whispered to his friend, the reluctant one, “Go ahead and tell her who we are, so that we are not slain by mistake.”
And his friend answered, “Be patient, I am trying to protect you from the embarrassment of having to plead our integrity.”
The mistress of the house now turned to the dervishes. “Are you brothers?” she asked.
“No, our gracious lady,” was their reply.
Then she asked them, “Were you each born with one eye?”
They answered her together. “By God, we were not, our gracious lady, we were each born with two eyes. But each of us suffered a great misfortune, which left us with only one.”
“Are you friends?” the mistress of the house asked.
“We met only tonight.”
“I want each of you to tell your story, explain to us what brought you to our home and if I am convinced by your tale, and feel sympathy, then I shall forgive you and free you,” the mistress of the house told the bound men.
Then she turned to the executioner, saying, “If not, I shall order you to cut off each man’s head.”
The porter was the first to tell his story. “Mistress, you know all too well how I came to this house, but you are not aware that I am the brother of a fisherman, who until this very year was poor, when God Almighty made him so rich that he became a jeweller and even Queen Zubeida, the wife of the Commander of the Faithful, Haroun al-Rashid, sends her ladies-in-waiting to purchase for her the most magnificent precious stones. But I refused to work inmy brother’s shop, because I so loved the hustle and bustle of the market and the people who frequent it, both sellers and buyers, especially if they are women as pretty, sophisticated and respectable as your sister.” He gestured to the shopper. “After she hired me, I followed her with my basket like her shadow, from the fruit and vegetables, to the incense and candles, pistachio nuts and sweets. But when she stopped at the butcher’s and stroked a lamb on the head, I thought that she was buying him and so I turned to her and said, ‘I wish you’d told me when you’d hired me that you were after a live lamb, so that I might have brought a mule and carriage.’ ”
Every one in the hall laughed, but the mistress of the house interrupted, saying, “Stroke your head with relief that you still have it, and leave.”
But the porter said, “But my gracious lady, can I not stay to hear the tales of the others?”
“Yes you may,” the mistress of the house told him. She turned to the three dervishes and said, “Let us hear your tales first. You three shall decide who will begin.” The dervishes looked fearfully from one to the other as if the task of telling their story was almost as terrifying as facing death itself. After some time, one of them, who looked especially ravaged by fortune, quietly began.
The First Dervish
stand here before
One of the executioners addressed the mistress of the house. “Our most noble and virtuous lady. Shall we behead them this instant?”
Hearing this, the porter wailed and wept, pointed at the dervishes and said, “I am innocent. I don’t wish to die because of the mistakes of others. These dervishes were indeed a bad omen.” He began to recite:
“Great is the mercy of the Almighty,
And greatest when bestowed upon the weak.
Now upon our bond of undying friendship I implore you,
Never cast aside an old friend when a new one you seek.”
Hearing this, the three ladies nearly giggled, especially the mistress of the house. But she controlled herself and ignored him,saying, “Wait, let me question our guests before you strike off their heads.”
She addressed the dervishes and the merchants.
“Were you not men of power and distinction you wouldn’t have dared to offend us in this way. So tell—who are you?”
The merchant whispered to his friend, the reluctant one, “Go ahead and tell her who we are, so that we are not slain by mistake.”
And his friend answered, “Be patient, I am trying to protect you from the embarrassment of having to plead our integrity.”
The mistress of the house now turned to the dervishes. “Are you brothers?” she asked.
“No, our gracious lady,” was their reply.
Then she asked them, “Were you each born with one eye?”
They answered her together. “By God, we were not, our gracious lady, we were each born with two eyes. But each of us suffered a great misfortune, which left us with only one.”
“Are you friends?” the mistress of the house asked.
“We met only tonight.”
“I want each of you to tell your story, explain to us what brought you to our home and if I am convinced by your tale, and feel sympathy, then I shall forgive you and free you,” the mistress of the house told the bound men.
Then she turned to the executioner, saying, “If not, I shall order you to cut off each man’s head.”
The porter was the first to tell his story. “Mistress, you know all too well how I came to this house, but you are not aware that I am the brother of a fisherman, who until this very year was poor, when God Almighty made him so rich that he became a jeweller and even Queen Zubeida, the wife of the Commander of the Faithful, Haroun al-Rashid, sends her ladies-in-waiting to purchase for her the most magnificent precious stones. But I refused to work inmy brother’s shop, because I so loved the hustle and bustle of the market and the people who frequent it, both sellers and buyers, especially if they are women as pretty, sophisticated and respectable as your sister.” He gestured to the shopper. “After she hired me, I followed her with my basket like her shadow, from the fruit and vegetables, to the incense and candles, pistachio nuts and sweets. But when she stopped at the butcher’s and stroked a lamb on the head, I thought that she was buying him and so I turned to her and said, ‘I wish you’d told me when you’d hired me that you were after a live lamb, so that I might have brought a mule and carriage.’ ”
Every one in the hall laughed, but the mistress of the house interrupted, saying, “Stroke your head with relief that you still have it, and leave.”
But the porter said, “But my gracious lady, can I not stay to hear the tales of the others?”
“Yes you may,” the mistress of the house told him. She turned to the three dervishes and said, “Let us hear your tales first. You three shall decide who will begin.” The dervishes looked fearfully from one to the other as if the task of telling their story was almost as terrifying as facing death itself. After some time, one of them, who looked especially ravaged by fortune, quietly began.
The First Dervish
stand here before
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