One Thousand and One Nights Read Free

as I did.

Shahrayar and Shahrazad
    long, long time ago lived two Kings who were brothers. The elder, King Shahrayar, ruled India and Indochina.
    The younger, Shahzaman, ruled Samarkand. Shahrayar was so powerful and strong that even savage animals feared him; but at the same time, he was fair, caring and kind to his people—just as the eyelid protects the eye. And they, in turn, were loyal, obeyed him blindly, and adored him.
    Shahrayar woke one morning and experienced a pang of longing for his younger brother. He realised, to his amazement, that he hadn’t seen Shahzaman in ten years. So he summoned his Vizier, the father of the two girls Shahrazad and Dunyazad, and asked him to go immediately to Samarkand and fetch his brother. The Vizier travelled for days and nights, until he reached Samarkand and met King Shahzaman, who welcomed him and slaughtered beasts in his honour, and he gave him the good news. “King Shahrayar is sound and well; he needs only to see your face and so he has sent me to ask that you visit him.”
    Happy Shahzaman embraced the Vizier, replying that he too had missed his brother, and that he would prepare to leave at once.
    In no time everything was ready: troops, horses and camels, and sheep to be slaughtered for food. Shahzaman was filled with happiness and excitement, for he was going to see his brother, so he set out at once, not wanting to delay one minute longer as he heard the beat of the tambourine and the blowing of the trumpets. He rushed to his wife’s quarters to bid her goodbye, but to his horror he found her lying in the arms of one of the kitchen boys. The world blackened and spun, as though he was caught in a hurricane.
    “I am the sovereign King of Samarkand and yet my wife has betrayed me, but with whom? With another king? A general in the army? No—with a kitchen boy!”
    In his fury, he drew his sword and killed his wife and the kitchen boy, then dragged them by the heels and threw their bodies from the very top of the palace into the trench below. Then he left his kingdom with his brother’s Vizier and entourage, his heart bleeding with sorrow and grief.
    As they travelled, the change of scenery and the beauty and solitude of the ravines and mountains failed to provide distraction, but only heightened Shahzaman’s sense of loss and misfortune. He reached India and embraced his brother King Shahrayar, who placed his guest palace at his disposal.
    As the days passed, Shahzaman grew ever paler and lost his appetite. King Shahrayar noticed his brother’s decline and assumed that he must be missing home and kingdom.
    Finally, one morning King Shahrayar asked Shahzaman: “Dear brother, would you like to hunt with me? We shall track the roaming deer for ten days and return when you are due to set out for your kingdom.”
    But Shahzaman said, “I am unable to accompany you this time. I am too depressed and preoccupied. I have a wound on my soul.”
    King Shahrayar persisted. “Maybe the excitement and action of the hunt will revive you, my brother, and heal your wound.”
    King Shahzaman refused, saying, “No, you must leave me here, and go with God’s blessing and protection.”
    Not wishing to pressure his brother, King Shahrayar embraced Shahzaman and with his entourage went out to hunt. Shahzaman remained alone in his quarters, moving from one chair to another as if wishing to escape himself, deeply depressed. He heard a bird cry and opened his shutters to look out, wishing this creature would lift him away into the sky, where he might forget the sorrow that had befallen him on Earth. He heard a commotion below him and to his bewilderment saw a private gate from his brother’s palace opening, from which his brother’s wife emerged, swaying like a dark, kohl-eyed deer. She was followed by a train of twenty slave girls, ten as white as the jasmine flower, and ten as dark as ebony, their bodies built to conquer, their lips luscious, as though stung by a hundred bees. As he