Classical Arabic Stories Read online

  “ ‘God be praised,’ he answered. ‘I gave you my word, taking God as my witness. Would I betray you and not return?’

  “ ‘By God,’ I answered, ‘I shall strive to help you.’ I took him, had him sit at al-Hajjaj’s door, and entered.

  “When al-Hajjaj saw me, he asked:

  “ ‘Qutaiba, where’s your prisoner?’

  “ ‘God be with you, Prince,’ I said, ‘he’s here at the door. But the strangest thing has happened between us.’

  “ ‘And what was that?’ he asked.

  “I told him the whole story. Then al-Hajjaj asked for the man to be brought in.

  “ ‘Qutaiba,’ he said, ‘would you like me to give him to you?’

  “ ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  “ ‘He’s yours,’ he said. ‘Take him with you.’

  “When we’d gone out, I told the man:

  “ ‘Take whichever road you choose.’

  “He raised his eyes to the sky, and said: ‘God be praised!’ But he didn’t say a single word to me.

  “ ‘This,’ I said to myself, ‘must be a madman, by God.’

  “Three days later, though, he came to me.

  “ ‘May God,’ he said, ‘reward you from His bounty. I wasn’t mindless of what you did for me, but I couldn’t bear to have any of the human race share my praise of God!’ ”

  From al-Kutubi, Ghurar al-Khasaʾis (The Finest Attributes); in Qisas al-ʿArab (Stories of the Arabs), vol. 3.

  1. Al-Hajjaj (d. 95 / 714) was a key provincial governor under the Umayyad dynasty. A man of probity, he was also noted for the severity of his methods.

  33

  Al-Hajjaj Orders the Torture of Azadmard

  In a note written by the judge Abu Jaʿfar ibn Bahloul, I found this story that was reported to him by Muhammad ibn Ahmad al-Hashimi:

  The ruler of Iraq, al-Hajjaj ibn Yousuf al-Thaqafi, instructed his assistant, Muhammad ibn al-Muntashir, as follows: “Take Azadmard ibn al-Firand the Zoroastrian1 and beat his hand and leg till he settles his debts to us.”

  In a week of courteous discussion (Muhammad said), I managed to recover three thousand dirhams from Azadmard. Al-Hajjaj, though, wasn’t satisfied. He brought the man back and handed him over to Maʿad, who was in charge of torture for the government. Maʿad crushed Azadmard’s hand and leg but failed to get any more money back from him.

  When I was in the market, Azadmard passed me on a mule, his injured limbs wrapped and bandaged up.

  “Come closer, Muhammad,” he said. I did so.

  “When you were charged with this duty before,” he said, “you treated me with respect. I paid what I considered reasonable, in good faith and of my own free will. By God, I shall never give out so much as a dirham against my will. That man there owes me three thousand dirhams. If you could kindly recover this money from him, on my behalf, it’s yours for the noble work you’ve done.”

  “I swear by God,” I said, “I’ll never take anything from you, seeing the condition you’re in.”

  “Do you know,” he asked, “what the people of your religion told me of your Prophet?”

  “No,” I replied, “I don’t.”

  “According to them,” he went on, “your Prophet said: ‘If God wishes people good, He will choose the best of them to be their rulers; and if He wishes harm to them, He will govern them through the worst, and send them untimely rain.’ ”

  And with that Azadmard told the muleteer to move on.

  I was still in my place in the market when one of al-Hajjaj’s messengers came to say the ruler wished to see me at once. I went to him and found him fuming with rage, his sword unsheathed and set on his lap.

  “Come here,” he commanded me.

  “By God,” I answered, “I shall never approach you while you have that sword there ready to use.”

  Thanks be to God, he gave one of his rare laughs. He sheathed the sword, then asked me:

  “What did that heretic say to you?”

  “I swear by God,” I said, “that I’ve never cheated you since the time you gave me your trust, or told you any lies since you first placed your confidence in me.” And with that I told him the story.

  I started to bring up the question of the three thousand dirhams, but he waved it away.

  “Say no more about it,” he said. “This unbeliever is well informed about the sayings of our Prophet, peace be upon him.”

  From Abu ʿAli ʾl-Muhassin al-Tanukhi, Nishwar al-Muhadara wa Akhbar al-Mudhakara (Snippets of Conversation and Memorable Tales), vol. 1.

  1. Being among the “People of the Book,” Zoroastrians were permitted to practice their religion openly under Muslim rule.

  34

  Iyas as Judge

  A man gave another some money to keep for him, but the other man denied he had ever been entrusted with it. The first man then took him to Iyas’s court, telling Iyas:1

  “I gave him some money to keep for me in such and such a place.”

  “What was in this place?” Iyas asked.

  “A tree,” the man answered.

  Iyas thereupon told the plaintiff:

  “Go to the place in question and look at the tree. It may be God will make things clear to you. Or it may be you buried the money beneath the tree, then forgot about it. When you see the tree again, you may remember.”

  The man went off.

  “Sit here,” Iyas told the defendant, “till your accuser returns.”

  Iyas went on with his judicial work, glancing at the man from time to time. Then he asked him:

  “Do you think your accuser’s reached the place with the tree?”

  “No,” the defendant answered.

  “Enemy of God!” Iyas said. “It’s you who are the treacherous one.”

  The defendant confessed, and Iyas kept him there till his opponent returned. Then he told the other man:

  “Take your rightful money from him. He’s confessed.”

  From Muhammad al-Bayhaqi, Al-Mahasin wa ʾl-Masawiʾ (Virtues and Blemishes) (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 1999); in Qisas al-ʿArab (Stories of the Arabs), vol. 1.

  1. The judge in question was Iyas ibn Muʿawiya, from the Mazina tribe. Appointed by Caliph ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAziz as judge for the Basra region, he was known for the fairness and mildness of his legal decisions

  35

  The Wisdom of Judge Iyas

  Aman placed some money with Iyas’s treasurer and went to the Hijaz. When he returned, he claimed it back, but the treasurer denied all knowledge. The man thereupon went to Judge Iyas and told him what had happened.

  “Does he know you’ve come to me?” Iyas asked.

  “No,” the man said.

  “Have you claimed it in the presence of anyone else?” Iyas went on.

  “No,” the man said.

  “Leave then,” Iyas said, “and say nothing of this to anyone. Then come back to me in two days.”

  The man left, and Iyas summoned his treasurer.

  “We’ve received a large sum of money,” he said, “and I wish to leave it in your keeping. Is your house secure?”

  “Yes,” the man said.

  “Then arrange for a place to keep the money,” Iyas told him, “and for people to fetch it.”

  The [first] man returned to Iyas, who told him:

  “Go to the man. If he gives you the money, then well and good. If he with

  holds it, tell him: ‘I shall inform the judge.’ ”

  The man went to the treasurer.

  “Will you give me the money I entrusted to you?” he asked. “If not, I shall make a complaint to the judge.”

  The treasurer gave him the money, and the man went to Iyas and told him. The treasurer then went to Iyas, who rebuked him, ordering him not to come near him again.

  “You traitor!” he concluded.

  From Ibn Hujja ʾl-Hamawi, Thamarat al-Awraq (Fruits of Writing); in Qisas al-ʿArab (Stories of the Arabs), vol. 1.

  36

  Why a Judge Pardoned
a Fraudster

  I was told this story by Abu Ahmad ibn Abu ʾl-Wadr, a sheikh and son of a judge, who heard it from his father. I met him in [A.H.] 349 [971 C.E.] He said his father was a close adviser to the judge Abu ʿUmar al-Qadi:

  A man once forged a letter in the name of judge Abu ʿUmar to the governor Abu ʾl-Qassem al-Hiwari, asking for his help and assistance. There was much trust and respect between Abu ʿUmar and al-Hiwari. The man took the forged document to al-Hiwari’s office and, having submitted the letter, was asked to wait outside for an answer.

  It so happened that judge Abu ʿUmar and I were, on that particular day, paying a courtesy visit to al-Hiwari. The judge, seeing the letter signed with his name, at once realized someone had imposed on him. I saw a brief flash of anger in his face, but I knew from experience that such a prudent and venerable person would not show his true feelings.

  “I’ve just received your letter, Judge,” al-Hiwari said, holding it out. “Rest assured the man will be given every possible assistance.”

  Abu ʿUmar thanked the governor, giving the impression he would indeed never have recommended help had it not been necessary. Shrewd and insightful as he was, he kept his comment general and vague, being unsure of the details of the fraudster’s request.

  “If the man’s still waiting outside,” he went on, “have him come in.”

  The man was brought in, and his face twisted in fear.

  “Are you the person,” al-Hiwari asked, “who brought this message from our most esteemed judge?”

  “Yes, sir,” the terrified man replied.

  “The governor,” said Abu ʿUmar, “may God give him strength, has promised you generous help. Wait outside, will you?”

  We spent an hour or so with the governor, in casual chat and small talk. Finally Abu ʿUmar rose and took his leave, then, on his way out, whispered in my ear: “Bring him over.”

  I hung back, took the man aside, and spoke to him softly and pleasantly. Then I went with him to Abu ʿUmar, who was waiting for us.

  “Curse you!” the judge said. “You’ve forged my handwriting and my signature. You know that whatever I ask for, I get. I protect people’s money, reputation, and blood. Suppose Abu ʾl-Qassem were to discover your trick? Wouldn’t he cut you in pieces?”

  The man began weeping and sobbing.

  “I swear by God, your honor,” he said, “that what prompted me to this wrongdoing was poverty, hardship, and need. I did it because I had faith in your generosity, and because my misconduct wouldn’t affect any verdict or testimony. What I did wouldn’t, I thought, do you any harm. I’d benefit myself and be protecting you too.”

  “My God!” exclaimed Abu ʿUmar. “So it was poverty that drove you to this?”

  “I swear by God it was,” the man replied.

  Abu ʿUmar wept, then called one of his servants and whispered a few words in his ear. The servant left and, after a time, came back carrying a wallet with a hundred dinars and a bag filled with clothes, and handed them to the man.

  “This will help you for the present,” Abu ʿUmar told the man. “Take it and use these clothes. Go back to al-Hiwari’s office, and I’ll confirm the earlier recommendation. But give me your pledge you’ll never use me fraudulently again.”

  The man took an oath before Abu ʿUmar, then left. Some months later, he returned on a fine horse and in lavish attire to greet Abu ʿUmar. He began uttering respects and thanks and praying for the judge’s health and success. Abu ʿUmar didn’t recognize the man till I reminded him of the earlier incident.

  “Why are you thanking me?” the judge asked.

  “I’m the one,” the man said, “who presented the letter to the governor, Abu ʾl-Qassem al-Hiwari, and he provided me with money and rewards. He’s given me generous help all this time, till finally I’ve become what I am now. And since that time I’ve been invoking God’s favor on the honorable judge.”

  “I can only thank Almighty God,” judge Abu ʿUmar said, “that I’ve served people with such success.”

  From Abu ʿAli ʾl-Muhassin al-Tanukhi, Nishwar al-Muhadara wa Akhbar al-Mudhakara (Snippets of Conversation and Memorable Tales), vol. 1.

  III

  Tales of Danger and Warfare

  37

  Maʿn ibn Zaʾida and the Black Man

  Maʿn ibn Zaʾida said:

  When I fled from al-Mansour,1 it was from the battlefield. I’d spent days in the [burning] sun and thinned my beard and sideburns, and I was wearing a coarse woolen cloak. I mounted a camel and went out toward the desert, but I was pursued by a black man carrying a sword. No sooner had I slipped the guards than this black man caught hold of the camel’s nose rope, brought it to its knees, and took me in charge.

  “What is it you want?” I asked.

  “You are sought,” he answered, “by the Prince of the Faithful.”

  “And who am I,” I asked, “that the Prince of the Faithful should seek me?”

  “You are Maʿn ibn Zaʾida,” he said.

  “Fear God, man,” I rejoined. “What have I to do with Maʿn?”

  “Leave this pretense,” he said. “By God, I know you well enough.”

  “And supposing,” I said, “that what you say is true. Here are some jewels I have with me, worth more, many times over, than the prize offered to the man who bears me off to al-Mansour. Take these and don’t shed my blood.”

  “Let me see them,” he said.

  I let him see them, and he examined them for a time. Then he said:

  “You’re right about their value. But I shan’t accept them before asking you something. If you tell me the truth, then I’ll release you.”

  I told him to ask his question.

  “People,” he said, “have spoken of your great generosity. Now tell me, did you ever give away all your wealth?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Half of it?”

  “No.”

  “A third of it?”

  “No.”

  So he went on till he’d reached a tenth.

  “It may be,” I said, embarrassed, “that I gave away that amount.”

  “That’s not so much,” he said. “I’m a humble man who goes on foot. And I’m taking only twenty dirhams from al-Mansour, while these jewels are worth a thousand dinars. Yet I’m returning them all to you, and sparing your life, too, on account of your famous generosity. You’ll know, now, that there are people in this world more generous than you are, and you won’t think too highly of yourself. From this time on, think slightly of anything you might do, and don’t ever hesitate to perform some noble, generous deed.”

  With that he threw the bag back to me, released the camel, and made to take his leave.

  “Man,” I said, “you’ve put me to shame. The shedding of my blood would have been lighter to me than this thing you’ve done. I entreat you, take what I gave you. I have no need of it myself.”

  He laughed at that.

  “Did you think,” he said, “I was trying to trick you? By God, I won’t take it. I’ll never take any prize for an act of generosity.” And with that he left.

  By God, when I was pardoned [by al-Mansour] and felt myself safe, I sought that man, asking anyone who might bring him to me to name his price, but I never heard of him again. It was as though the earth had gaped and swallowed him.

  From al-Nuwairi, Nihayat al-Arab (The Highest Aspiration), 3; in Qisas al-ʿArab (Stories of the Arabs), vol. 1.

  1. Maʿn ibn Zaʾida was one of the most valiant and generous men of his age. He lived during the end of the Umayyad period and the beginning of the Abbasid (which began in 132 / 750). Initially he remained loyal to the Umayyads, and, when Caliph al-Mansour fought the Umayyad loyalist Yazid ibn ʿAmr ibn Hubaira, to whom Maʿn was affiliated, Maʿn fought gallantly at Yazid’s side until the latter was killed. Maʿn then fled and was sought by al-Mansour, who eventually pardoned him.

  38

  Al-Mansour’s Pride

  When al-Mansour went on pilgrimage, he was sh
own some jewels of priceless value. Recognizing them, he said:

  “These belonged to [Caliph] Hisham ibn ʿAbd al-Malik1 and were passed on to his son, Muhammad ibn Hisham, the only man left from the Umayyad dynasty. I must seize him.”

  With that he looked toward his bodyguard al-Rabiʿ.

  “When,” he said, “I have finished leading prayers tomorrow in the Kaʿba, and when everyone has gathered, close all the doors of the mosque and have them guarded by men you trust. Leave just one door open and stand guard there yourself. Let no one pass unless you know him; and when Muhammad ibn Hisham tries to leave, arrest him and bring him here to me.”

  Next day, al-Rabiʿ did as al-Mansour had commanded him. Muhammad ibn Hisham was in the mosque and, realizing he was the one sought, was sure he was about to be taken and killed.2 Confounded, and in clear distress, he was seen by Muhammad ibn Zaid ibn ʿAli ibn al-Husain, who did not know who he was. This Muhammad approached.

  “What’s troubling you so?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” came the answer.

  “Tell me,” Muhammad insisted. “I promise to see you safe.”

  “Who are you?” ibn Hisham asked.

  Muhammad told him his name, and this made ibn Hisham more fearful still. He became mad with fear almost, certain he was about to be killed.3

  “Have no fear,” Muhammad told him. “You have killed neither my father nor my grandfather. I have no vengeance to take against you. I shall strive to save you, God willing. But forgive me, please, for any insult and ill-treatment I might seem to cause you.”

  “Do whatever you wish,” ibn Hisham answered.

  With that Muhammad flung ibn Hisham’s cloak over his face and pulled him toward the door, till he was close to where al-Rabiʿ, al-Mansour’s bodyguard, was standing. The moment al-Rabiʿ ’s eyes fell on them, Muhammad began striking ibn Hisham about the head. Bringing him to al-Rabiʿ, he said:

  “This man’s a camel driver from Kufa. He agreed to hire me some camels, then, the moment I’d paid him the due amount, he ran off and hired the camels to some people from Khorasan. I have witnesses against him, and I ask you to send guards to conduct us to the judge, and to hold his camels back from being sent to Khorasan.”