Chapter 2

HISTORY OF KING ĀZĀDBAKHT AND THE VIZIER’S DAUGHTER.

Thus it is recorded by the authors of remarkable histories, and the
narrators of delightful tales, that there was once in the country of
Sīstān, a certain King, possessing a crown and a throne, whose name was
Āzādbakht; and he had a Vizier entitled Sipahsālār, a person of such
bravery and skill that the moon concealed herself among the clouds from
fear of his scimitar. This Vizier had a daughter endowed with such
exquisite beauty that the rose of the garden and the moon of the
heavenly spheres were confounded at the superior lustre of her cheeks.
Sipahsālār loved this daughter with excessive fondness, so that he could
scarcely exist an hour without her. Having gone on an expedition to
inspect the state of the country, it happened that he found himself
under a necessity of passing some time from home. He immediately
despatched confidential persons with orders to bring his daughter to him
from the capital. These persons, having arrived at the Vizier’s palace,
paid their obeisance to the damsel, who ordered her attendants to
prepare for the journey to her father. The horses were instantly
caparisoned, and a litter provided with magnificence suitable to a
princely traveller. The damsel, seated in this, commenced her journey,
and went forth from the city.

It happened that the King, who had gone on a hunting-party, was at that
moment returning from the chase. He beheld the litter with its ornaments
and splendid decorations; and, whilst he gazed, it was borne quite out
of the town. He sent to inquire about it; and the attendants said that
it belonged to the daughter of Sipahsālār, who was going to her father.
When the King’s servants returned and reported to him this intelligence,
he rode up to the litter that he might send his compliments to
Sipahsālār. On his approach the attendants alighted from their horses,
and kissed the ground of respectful obedience. The King, having desired
that they would bear his salutations to the Vizier, and they having
promised punctually to do so, was preparing to turn back, when suddenly,
the wind lifting up a corner of the hangings which covered the litter,
his eyes were fixed by the fascinating beauty of the damsel; and he who
in the chase had sought for game became now the captive prey of this
lovely maid, and fell into the snares of love. At length he ordered the
attendants to despatch a messenger to the north, where Sipahsālār was,
and to inform him that the King would accept his daughter as a wife,
hoping that he might not be esteemed an unworthy son-in-law.

When the attendants heard this, they kissed the ground of obedience,
saying: “Long be the King’s life!—the sovereign of the earth and of the
age, and the ruler of the world! If Sipahsālār could even dream of this
honour, he would be supreme in happiness. But, if the King permit, we
will proceed with the damsel to her father, and inform him of what has
happened, that he may prepare everything necessary for the occasion, and
then send her back to the city.” When the servant of the damsel had thus
spoken, the King, who was displeased with his discourse, exclaimed: “How
darest thou presume to counsel or advise me?” He would have punished the
servant on the spot, but he feared lest the tender heart of his fair
mistress should be distressed thereby. He accordingly remitted the
punishment; and taking the reins into his own hands, he conducted the
litter back towards the city, which he entered at the time when the
shades of evening began to fall.

The next day he assembled the magistrates and chief men; and, having
asked the damsel’s consent to the marriage, he caused the necessary
ceremonies to be performed. The secretaries were employed in writing
letters of congratulation; and Sipahsālār was informed of the insult
offered to him during his absence, which caused the tears to flow from
his eyes whilst he perused the letters of congratulation. He dissembled,
however; and, concealing his vexation, wrote letters to the King, and
addressed him in language of the strongest gratitude, declaring himself
at a loss for words whereby to express his sense of the honour conferred
upon him.

Such was the purport of his letters; but in his mind he cherished hopes
of revenge, and day and night were employed in devising stratagems by
means of which he might obtain it.

After two or three months spent in this manner, Sipahsālār assembled all
the chief officers of the army, and informed them that, confiding in
their secrecy and fidelity, he would communicate to them an affair of
considerable importance. They all assured him of their attachment and
regard; and declared that the flourishing state of the empire was the
result of his wisdom, prudent management, and bravery. To this
Sipahsālār replied: “You all know what actions I have performed, and
what troubles I have undergone, to raise the empire to its present state
of glory and prosperity: but what has been my recompense? You have seen
how the ungrateful monarch carried off my daughter.” Having thus spoken,
a shower of tears fell from his eyes; and the chiefs who were assembled
about him said: “We have been acquainted with this matter for some time,
and it has given us great concern. But now the moment is arrived when we
may depose this king.”

Then Sipahsālār threw open the doors of his treasury, and distributed
considerable sums of money amongst the soldiers; so that in a little
time he assembled a multitude of troops, almost innumerable. He then
resolved to attack the King, and, with that intention, seized, during
the night, upon all the avenues of the city, both on the right hand and
on the left.

The King, astonished and alarmed at the tumult, consulted with the
Queen, saying: “What can we do in this misfortune? For it is a night to
which no morning shall succeed, and a war in which there is not any hope
of peace.”—The Queen replied: “Our only remedy for this evil is to fly
and seek protection in the dominions of some other prince, and solicit
his assistance.”—Āzādbakht approved of this counsel, and resolved to
seek an asylum from the King of Kirmān, who was renowned for his
generosity throughout the world.

In the palace there was a certain door which opened into a subterraneous
passage leading towards the desert. The King gave orders that two horses
should be instantly saddled; and having put on his armour, and taken
from the royal treasury many precious jewels and fastened them in his
girdle, he placed the Queen on one of the horses, and mounting the other
himself, they went forth privately through the door above-mentioned, and
directed their course towards the desert.

Now it happened that the Queen had been for nine months in a state of
pregnancy; and, after travelling during a whole day and night in the
desert, they arrived at the side of a well, whose waters were more
bitter than poison, and unpleasant as the revolutions of inconstant
Fortune. Here the Queen was affected by the pains of labour; whilst heat
and thirst reduced both the King and her to despair: their mouths were
parched up for want of water, and they had no hopes of saving their
lives; for the sword of the enemy was behind them, and before them the
sand of the desert. In this forlorn situation the Queen said: “As it is
impossible for me to proceed any farther, I entreat you to save your own
life, and find out some place where water may be obtained. Though I must
perish here, you may be saved; and a hundred thousand lives such as mine
are not in value equal to a single hair of the King’s head.”—Āzādbakht
replied: “Soul of the world! I can relinquish riches and resign a
throne; but it is impossible to abandon my beloved: her who is dearer to
me than existence itself.”

Thus were they engaged in conversation, when suddenly the Queen brought
forth a son; in beauty he was lovely as the moon, and from the lustre of
his eyes the dreary desert was illumined. The Queen, pressing the infant
to her bosom, began to perform the duties of a mother, when the King
told her that she must not fix her affections on the child, as it would
be impossible to take him with them: “We must, therefore,” added the
King, “leave the infant on the brink of this well, and commit him to the
providence of the Almighty, whose infinite kindness will save him from
destruction.”—They accordingly wrapped up the child in a cloak
embroidered with gold and fastened a bracelet of ten large pearls round
his shoulders; then, leaving him on the brink of the well, they both
proceeded on their journey to Kirmān, whilst their hearts were afflicted
with anguish on account of their helpless infant. When they approached
the capital of Kirmān, the King of that place was informed of their
arrival. He sent his servants to welcome them, and received them with
the greatest respect and hospitality; he provided a princely banquet,
and assembled all the minstrels, and sent his own son and two attendants
to wait on Āzādbakht.

During the feast, whilst the musicians were employed in singing and
playing, and the guests in drinking, whenever the wine came round to
Āzādbakht, his eyes were filled with tears. The King of Kirmān,
perceiving this, desired him to banish sorrow, and to entertain a hope
that Heaven might yet be propitious to him. Āzādbakht replied: “O King
of the world! how can I be cheerful, whilst thus an exile from my home,
and whilst my kingdom and my treasures are in the possession of my
enemies?”

The King of Kirmān then inquired into the particulars of Āzādbakht’s
misfortunes, which he related from beginning to end. The heart of the
King of Kirmān was moved with compassion; and during that whole day he
endeavoured, by every sort of amusement, to divert the mind of his guest
from dwelling on the past misfortunes. The next day he ordered a
powerful army to be led forth, and placed it under the command of
Āzādbakht, who marched immediately towards the capital of his own
dominions. On the King’s approach, Sipahsālār, who had usurped his
authority, fled in confusion, and all the troops, the peasants, and
other inhabitants paid homage to Āzādbakht, and entreated his
forgiveness. He pardoned them; and again ascending the royal throne,
governed his people with justice and generosity; and having liberally
rewarded the King of Kirmān’s soldiers, he sent them back with many rare
and valuable presents for that monarch.

After these transactions, Āzādbakht and his Queen passed their time in a
state of tranquillity, interrupted only by the remembrance of the child
whom they had left in the desert, and whom, they were persuaded, wild
beasts must have devoured the same hour in which they abandoned him: but
they little knew the kindness which Providence had shown him.

It happened that the desert in which they had left the infant was
frequented by a gang of robbers, the chief of whom was named
Farrukhsuwār; and very soon after the King and Queen had departed, these
robbers came to the well; there they discovered a beautiful infant
crying bitterly. Farrukhsuwār alighted from his horse and took up the
child; and his extraordinary beauty induced them to believe him the son
of some prince or illustrious personage. In this opinion they were
confirmed by the ten valuable pearls which were fastened on his
shoulders. As Farrukhsuwār had not any child, he resolved to adopt this
infant as his own, and accordingly bestowed on him the name of Khudādād;
and having taken him to his home, committed him to the care of a nurse.
When he was of a proper age, Farrukhsuwār instructed him in all
necessary accomplishments, and in horsemanship and the use of arms,
which rendered him, with his natural bravery, when fifteen years of age,
able to fight, alone, five hundred men. Farrukhsuwār loved this youth
with such affection that he could not exist one moment without him, and
took him along with him wheresoever he went. Whenever it happened that
the robbers were proceeding to attack a caravan, Khudādād, who felt
compassion for the merchants and travellers, and at all times disliked
the profession of a robber, requested that Farrukhsuwār might dispense
with his attendance, and leave him to guard the castle. Farrukhsuwār
consented that he should not join in attacking the caravan; but
entreated him to accompany the robbers to the scene of action. It
happened, however, one day, that they attacked a caravan consisting of
superior numbers, and of such brave men that they fought against the
robbers with success, and took several of them prisoners. In this action
Farrukhsuwār received a wound, and was near falling into the hands of
his enemies, when Khudādād, mounting his charger, galloped into the
midst of the battle, and put many of them to death.

But it was so ordained that he should fall from his horse; in
consequence of which, he was taken prisoner, and with many of the
robbers, led in chains to the capital.

The chief of the caravan having brought them all before the tribunal of
Āzādbakht, the King’s eyes were no sooner fixed upon the countenance of
Khudādād, than paternal affection began to stir his heart: he wept, and
said: “Alas! if the infant whom I abandoned in the desert were now
alive, he would probably appear such a youth as this!” He continued to
gaze involuntarily upon him, and, desiring him to approach, inquired his
name, and said: “Art thou not ashamed to have abused the favours of
Heaven, which has endowed thee with so much beauty and strength, by
plundering travellers, and seizing on the property to which thou hadst
not any right?”—Khudādād, with tears, replied: “The Lord knows my
innocence, and that I have never partaken of the plunder.”—Āzādbakht
then granted him a free pardon, and took him into his service, desiring
that his chains might be taken off; he also put on him his own robe, and
said: “I now give you the name of Bakhtyār; from this time forth Fortune
shall be your friend.”[25] The King then dismissed the other robbers; to
whom, on condition that they would never again commit any depredations,
he granted not only their lives, but a pension, by which he engaged them
in his service.

After this Bakhtyār continued day and night in attendance on the King,
whose affection for him hourly increased. To his care were entrusted the
royal stables, which he superintended with such skill and good
management that in a few months the horses became fat and sleek; and the
King, one day remarking their improved condition, understood that it was
the result of Bakhtyār’s care and attention, and conceiving that a
person who evinced such abilities was capable of managing more important
matters, he sent for Bakhtyār, at his return to the palace, and ordered
that the keys of the treasury should be presented to him, and thus
constituted him keeper of the treasures. Bakhtyār, having kissed the
ground, was invested with a splendid robe of honour. He discharged the
duties of his high station with such fidelity and attention that he
every day increased in favour with the King, and at length was consulted
on every measure, and entrusted with every secret of his royal master.
If on any day it happened that Bakhtyār absented himself from the
palace, on that day the King would not give audience to any person: and
the advice of Bakhtyār was followed on every occasion of importance. In
short, he was next in power to the King, and his conduct was discreet
and skilful.

But there were Ten Viziers, who became envious of his exaltation, and
conspired against him, resolving to devise some stratagem whereby they
might deprive him of the King’s esteem, and effect his degradation.

It happened one day that Bakhtyār, having indulged in the pleasures of
wine beyond the bounds of moderation, lost the power of his reason, and
continued in a state of sleepy intoxication until night came on and the
world became dark; the porters fastened the gates, and the sentinels
repaired to their respective stations. Bakhtyār, after some time, came
forth from the treasury, but knew not whither he went, so completely had
the wine deprived him of recollection: he wandered on, however, until he
found himself in one of the King’s private apartments, where he saw
tapers burning, a couch with pillows and cushions, a splendid throne, or
seat, and various embroidered robes and silken coverings. This was the
apartment in which the King used to sleep. Here, from excessive
intoxication, Bakhtyār flung himself upon the throne: after a little
while the King entered, and discovering the unfortunate young man,
inquired, with violent anger, his business in that place. Bakhtyār,
roused by the noise, threw himself from the throne, and crept beneath
it, where again he fell asleep.

The King, having called some attendants, ordered them to seize him, and,
drawing his sword, hastened to the Queen, of whom he asked how Bakhtyār
found admittance to the private apartments of the palace; and added,
that he could not have come there without her knowledge. The Queen,
shocked at such an imputation, declared herself ignorant of the whole
transaction but desired the King, if he still entertained any
suspicions, to confine her that night, and inquire into the matter on
the next morning, when her innocence would appear, and the guilty might
be punished. The King accordingly ordered her to be confined, and
suspended the execution of vengeance during that night.

When morning came, being seated on the royal throne, he gave audience to
his ten Viziers. The first of these, having paid his respects to the
King, inquired into the transactions of the preceding night, and was
informed of all that had occurred. The enmity which this Vizier had long
cherished in his heart against Bakhtyār induced him to conceive that a
fair opportunity now offered of destroying that unfortunate young man;
and he said within himself: “Though he may have a thousand lives, he
shall not be able to save one of them.” He then addressed the King, and
said: “How could a person bred up in the desert, and by profession a
robber and assassin, be fit for the service of a King? I well knew that
his wickedness would appear, but durst not say so; now, however, that it
is manifest, let the King ordain for him such a punishment as may be a
lesson to all the world.”—The King gave orders that Bakhtyār should be
brought before him. “Ungrateful wretch!” said he, “I forgave your
offences; I spared your life; I raised you to dignities almost equal to
my own; and you requite these favours by treason and perfidy: you have
entered into the recesses of my harem, and have presumed to occupy my
place.”—Bakhtyār on hearing this began to weep; declared himself
ignorant of all those transactions, and that if he had been found in the
royal apartments, he must have wandered there unconsciously.

The first Vizier solicited the King’s permission that he might go to the
harem, and inquire from the Queen all that she knew concerning this
affair. Having obtained permission, he went to the Queen, and told her,
that there were various reports on the subject of that young robber
Bakhtyār, in which she was implicated; that, as the King was exceedingly
enraged against her, the only means whereby she could appease his anger
would be to accuse Bakhtyār, and to say,—“O King! thou hast brought
hither the son of a robber; thou hast bestowed on him the name of
‘Fortune’s Favourite,’ and hast exalted him to honours; but his baseness
has at length appeared: he has presumed to make amorous proposals to me,
and has threatened, should I not comply with his licentious desires, to
use violence with me, to kill the King, and to seize upon the throne.”

“This declaration,” said the Vizier to the Queen, “will induce the King
to order the immediate execution of Bakhtyār, and you will at the same
time reestablish yourself in his good opinion.”—The Queen was
astonished, and replied: “How can I, even to save myself, thus destroy
the life of an innocent person by a false testimony?”

“The life of Bakhtyār,” said the Vizier, “has long been forfeited to the
laws, since he exercised the profession of a robber and a murderer;
therefore, any scruples on that subject are vain; and I’ll answer at the
day of judgment for your share in this transaction.”

The Queen at last consented to follow the Vizier’s advice; and he
returned to the presence of the King, who desired to know the result of
his conference with the Queen. The artful Vizier replied: “That which I
have heard, I have not the power of relating; but the Queen herself will
tell it.” The King, having retired, sent for the Queen, and she repeated
to him all that the Vizier had instructed her to say. The King,
acknowledging that he was himself to blame, as having bestowed favours
on the base-born son of a robber, gave orders that heavy irons should be
put on the feet of Bakhtyār, and sent him to prison; declaring that in
due time he should suffer such a punishment as would strike terror into
all men.

In the meantime, Bakhtyār languished in the prison, appealing to God for
relief; and the Viziers returned to their homes, devising means whereby
they might induce the King to hasten the execution of the young man.