Classical Arabic Stories Read online

  “Take as much as your camel can carry,” al-Harith told me, “but no more.” He was a Hanifi, who believed in the religion of his forefathers, Ibrahim, Ismail, and Ishaq, may God bless them.

  [Iyad said:] I took what my camel could carry in rubies and gold, choosing the finest, and the rest I left. Then I came out.

  From Kitab al-Tijan fi Muluk Himyar (The Book of Crowns Concerning the Kings of Himyar).

  1. Najran was one of the most important ancient cities of Yemen. “Serpent of Najran” refers to this priest’s celebrated wisdom, the serpent being a symbol of wisdom for the ancient Arabs.

  2. Al-Bayt al-ʿAtiq (The Old House) refers to the Kaʿba, now the central place of the annual Muslim pilgrimage. It was so called because it was thought to be the first house built by Ibrahim (Abraham) as a place of prayer to God.

  10

  The Story of the Cave Where Shaddad ibn ʿAad Was

  * * *

  HOW THE ADVENTURERS ENTERED AND WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM THERE

  Wahb ibn Munabbeh said:“I was told by Abu Muhammad ʿAbd al-Malek ibn Hisham how he was told by Ziyad ibn ʿAbd al-Malek al-Bukaʾi, who was told by Muhammad ibn Ishaq al-Muttalibi, who was told by ʿUbaid ibn Shirya al-Jurhumi, that a very old man from Yemen, who was well informed about the kings of Himyar and its affairs, related the following story at Sanaa during the year of the renegades.”

  There was a man in Yemen among the descendants of the ʿAad ibn Qahtan—the junior ʿAad, for the descendants of the senior ʿAad had all died out. God said [in the Quran]: “Do you see any of them still alive?”

  This man from the ʿAad was called al-Humaysiʿ ibn Bakr, and he was brave and dauntless, famed for fearing no one. Venturesome men and outlaws would come to him from all parts of the earth. He was a great adventurer in the mountains of Yemen, Oman, and Bahrain.

  One day, two venturesome men, one from the ʿAbs tribe, the other from Khuzaʿa, came to him.

  “Humaysiʿ,” they told him, “command whatever you wish and we will do it.”

  So al-Humaysiʿ went with them, and they came to a mountain where there was a wild forest full of snakes, where no one would venture. A number of times al-Humaysiʿ had gone to the mountain alone, but always, when he saw the snakes, he had been struck with terror and had held back from entering. Now, with the two venturesome men alongside, he took courage from their company.

  “Place your head between two,” he told himself, “even if it is covered to the ears.”1

  With that he took his sword, his firestone, his torches, and his food, and he went along with the two till he reached the mountain. The snakes fled at the first sight of them, and so it went on till finally they reached the entrance to a great cave—so vast it seemed as though mountains were standing on their shoulders. The men felt utterly desolate, and they could hear a mighty noise from inside the cave. On the entrance were written words in the Himyari language. The other two asked al-Humaysiʿ to read the words to them, and he uttered these two lines of poetry engraved there:

  Only the venturesome, or the vain and ignorant, shall enter this house.

  He who determines the lengths of lives shall deal with him who enters this cave.

  Al-Khuzaʿi was straightaway seized with terror. Al-ʿAbsi was seized, too, but managed to stand firm. Then al-Khuzaʿi said: “Oh Humaysiʿ, how many have lived in this world, and never suffered this!” And with that he ran off.2

  “Shall we enter this cave?” al-Humaysiʿ asked.“Let us do so,” said al-ʿAbsi.

  And so they walked some way into the cave. Suddenly they saw snakes hissing from right and left, and there were winds blowing on the two men, from within the cave. And they heard a mighty noise there.

  “This is a tight corner you’ve brought yourself to,” al-ʿAbsi said. “Are you sure of this cave, Humaysiʿ?

  “I am sure,” said al-Humaysiʿ, “of what my eye has seen. And I live in hope.”

  “My fear is,” said al-ʿAbsi, “that you are rousing the snakes. I would wager my life, Humaysiʿ, you have sold your soul at the lowest price.”

  Al-Humaysiʿ, though, paid him no heed. On he walked, through the cave, till he came to another entrance still greater, still fuller of foreboding than the first. The mighty noise and the murmuring voices grew greater around them, and they saw more writing in the Himyari language. All this heightened their terror. Then al-ʿAbsi asked al-Humaysiʿ to read the words engraved there, and al-Humaysiʿ read the following:

  Look to your saddle, let it not be moved, or certain death will befall it.

  Oh dwellers of the Shammam mounts, the Covenant may cancel your violation.

  Rise for that person, his entrance will summon the day of separation.

  “May God punish the man from ʿAad for his rashness!” al-ʿAbsi said. And with that he fled in utter terror, not looking back when al-Humaysiʿ called to him. Al-Humaysiʿ, too, felt driven to flee. Yet he resolved to follow the harder course. On he walked till he came to an entrance still greater, still more terrifying than the two first. On this, too, were words in the Himyari language, with the following text:

  There was a counselor once, showing you truth to enter your ears.

  The ignorance of the ignorant was manifest in his error, that his heart was no longer watchful.

  He went in through the third entrance and heard a still mightier noise, like thunder. Suddenly, as he was in this plight, a red-eyed dragon appeared before him, its mouth agape. When al-Humaysiʿ saw it, he drew swiftly back. The dragon grew silent and the man of ʿAad stood his ground.

  “It’s seen me,” he thought. “Had it been a [true] beast, it would never have let me be. It must be a talisman.”

  On he went once more, and the dragon appeared again. He walked toward it, then, hearing a mighty noise, ran off. Then he realized from the noise that the dragon was withdrawing. Convinced now that it sprang from magic, he took care not to accost it, treading lightly, step-by-step, till his foot reached a point where the dragon moved and let out a mighty noise. He thereupon took an axe he had with him and began digging, on this spot, till he found some chains on pulleys. At this point night fell, and he hurried from the cave. He collected some wood from the forest round about, lit a fire, and lay down to sleep, close to the entrance of the cave. During the night he heard weeping and moaning from inside the cave, and, apprehensive now, saw a great fire issuing from the cave. He remained where he was even so, till it engulfed him; and, enduring it patiently, he found it gave no pain. Then another fire, greater than the first, engulfed him once more, and again he endured it with patience. When it had gone, he took the torch he had lit and went and struck it against the walls of the cave, right and left. At last he heard a call from within the cave: “Oh al-Humaysiʿ, your presence is not wished for here.” And so he remained outside till dawn. Then he went in through the entrance to the cave, and walked on till he reached the entrance where he had seen the dragon; and he dug around the dragon until it fell. Thereupon he snatched its eyes, to find they were made of red ruby of no value. On he walked till he reached a further entrance still greater, still more terrifying than the one before. When he tried to open it, he heard a mighty noise and saw a huge lion. He stepped back and the lion stepped back, too, with a resounding roar. As he had done with the dragon, he dug around the place from which the lion had retreated, till its movement ceased. Then he snatched its eyes, and once more they were of red ruby of no value. He went in through the entrance and found himself in a great hall, with a room in the midst of which was a gold bedstead, and an old man lying there with a gold board above his head. The ceiling of the room was studded with different kinds of jewels. Over his head, on the wall, the gold board was engraved with the following words: “I am Shad-dad, son of ʿAad. I lived for five hundred years. I deflowered a thousand virgins, killed a thousand fighters, and rode a thousand pedigree horses.” And below this was engraved the following verse:

  Who is this, oh Shaddad of ʿAad, whose hopes have been dashed?

 
; Let he who sees me learn well; for I ruled so many years,

  Then hastened away like a guest, as though I were some dream.

  Beware time’s treacheries, never feel safe amid life’s shifts.

  Take no offense at my words, oh dweller of the forests and wild places.

  He said: “I turned to his right side then, and saw a gold bedstead on which were lying two young maidens. Above their heads, on the wall, was a gold board on which were engraved the following words: “I am Habba and this is Labba, daughters of Shaddad ibn ʿAad. We lived through times where we spent all our old wealth, earned or inherited, on our slaves. Then [came the day when] we asked for a measure of wheat, for a measure of jewels, but did not find it. Let any who sees us have no trust in time’s shifts. Let him know well that time brings bad times along with good.”

  Then al-Humaysiʿ took the boards, along with any jewels he found in the house, and withdrew.

  From Kitab al-Tijan fi Muluk Himyar (The Book of Crowns Concerning the Kings of Himyar).

  1. An old Arabic saying.

  2. This corrects a discrepancy in the original, where it is al-ʿAbsi who flees.

  11

  Luqman

  Wahb said:

  The ʿAad al-Asghar ben Qahtan were a devious and treacherous tribe. No wayfarer could feel secure with them, no neighbor would trust them; no stranger would ever visit them, no one would venture to make a covenant with them. A branch of this tribe, the Banu Karkar Ben ʿAad ben Qahtan, lived in the far reaches of Yemen and was at war with all the tribes of ʿAad. These last had as allies the Banu Ghanem and the Banu Zalem ben Qahtan, and they were victorious over the Banu Karkar. When the Banu Karkar saw the abject depths to which they had sunk, how they were subject to degradation after honor, and loss and hard toil after prosperity, they complained of their adversity to their master, al-Sumaidiʿ ben Zuhair.

  “Banu Karkar,” al-Sumaidiʿ told them, “you have been a treacherous and devious people, one no kin or stranger could trust, of whom neither friend nor foe could feel sure. You have given a hostage to fate, and now fate is demanding its due.”

  “We see now,” they answered, “how we have opened the door of death upon ourselves. Guide us to the door of life.”

  “Here this cannot be,” he said. “Go rather to the Himyari chief, Luqman ben ʿAad, for he has wisdom and goodness, prays to God, and is open to the doors of charity. He who never ceases to invoke God’s help is kept safe from harm.”

  “All this is now in your hands,” they told him. “Take us to him.”

  “Banu Karkar,” he told them, “this is a mighty task you have placed on me, for God is pleased with none of your deeds.” …

  Al-Sumaidiʿ went with them to Luqman ben ʿAad. Luqman offered them his trust and they embraced it, and he married from among them a beautiful woman called Sawdaʿ bint Umama. Luqman, who was a jealous man, confined her to a vast cave atop a very high rock, to which he alone could gain access on account of his great stature. In this cave, too, he would worship, and it was his custom each year to gather the people there, both men and women, to pray with him; and he invited the Banu Karkar along with the rest.

  There, al-Humaisiʿ ben al-Sumaidiʿ saw Luqman’s wife and desired her.

  “Oh people of ʿAad,” he told the Banu Karkar, “if you do not, by God, find me a way to Luqman’s wife, I shall kill Luqman, and then Himyar will see the end of you.”

  He was a most bold and brutal man, and they knew well enough he would carry out his threat unless they helped him. And so they worked with him to contrive a way to bring the two together without Luqman’s knowledge.

  But a man among them, called ʿAmer ben Malik, addressed them as follows:

  “You are betraying hospitality and trust, and your end will be no better than your past state. There can be no safety after devious deeds, no excuse for treachery, no falling away from a covenant. You have obeyed a beguiling, lecherous man, and your own tempting devils, against the one who welcomed you. The other Arabs struck you all with a single arrow, and here you are now betraying Luqman, who gave you refuge, with his own women.”

  They, though, would not hear him, still persisting in their wrongful course … As for al-Humaisiʿ ben al-Sumaidiʿ, he struck the man. “This man seeks your destruction,” he told the Banu Karkar. “Kill him.” And so they killed him.

  Then they came to Luqman.

  “We fear,” they told him, “a war is liable to break out among us. If, though, you will store our weapons in your cave, we shall be powerless to spill blood, and kill our own kindred, even though we might quarrel.”

  “Do so,” Luqman said.

  And so they brought out their weapons and placed al-Humaisiʿ ben al-Sumaidiʿ inside the bundle, hidden from view on all sides. Then they gave the bundle to Luqman, who took it up into the cave.

  When Luqman had gone, al-Humaisiʿ spoke to Sawdaʿ, Luqmanʿs wife, telling her: “I am al-Humaisiʿ ben al-Sumaidiʿ.”

  She brought him out, and he [made love to her]. Then she offered him food and drink and put him back in the bundle. This went on for a while, until at last he ventured to sleep with her on Luqman’s own bed; and he spat up onto the roof of the cave. Later Luqman came, and, feeling very tired, flung himself down on his bed. Then, looking up, he saw the spittle where it had stuck on the cave roof.

  “Whose spittle is that?” he asked his wife.

  “Mine,” she answered.

  He told her to spit, but her spittle could not reach the ceiling.

  “But,” she said, “I was seated when I spat.”

  Thereupon he told her to be seated and spit. And still she could not reach so high with her spittle.

  “I was standing,” she told him then.

  And so he told her to stand up and spit. She stood, and spat, but still could not reach so far. He saw then what had happened.

  “This,” he said, “came from the weapons.” And with that he opened the bundle of weapons and brought al-Humaisiʿ out. Then he called together the Banu Himyar.

  “What do you have to say of the Banu Karkar?” he asked them.

  “Luqman,” they said, “the Banu Karkar were driven from the lands of Himyar because they are a faithless and devious people, fit only to sow treachery among us and fill us with rancor.”

  Luqman ordered the Banu Karkar to leave his protection. Then he went to the cave on the mountain, put his wife, along with al-Humaisiʿ, in the bundle of weapons, and flung them down from the heights. Then he stoned them, and all the rest of his people stoned them with him, till the two had been killed. As for the Banu Karkar, they were sent away and lost Luqman’s protection.

  From Kitab al-Tijan fi Muluk Himyar (The Book of Crowns Concerning the Kings of Himyar).

  II

  Tales of Rulers and Other Notable Persons

  12

  ʿAmara the Faqih and ʿAbd al-Malik ibn Marwan

  ʿAmara the Faqih said:

  I sat often with ʿAbd al-Malik ibn Marwan in the shadow of the Kaʿba. One day he told me:

  “ʿAmara, if you live long enough, you will see people craning their necks toward me and people’s hopes aspiring to me. If this should happen, do not hesitate to make me the means to fulfill your needs and the target to realize your hopes. By God, if you do this, I shall fill your hands with joy and bestow a bountiful bliss upon you.”

  Sometime after, ʿAbd al-Malik went to Damascus and became caliph. I went to visit him there, and, requesting entry to his court, was permitted to go in. After I had greeted him in proper fashion, he said: “Welcome to my brother.” Then he called one of his servants and told him: “Have a house prepared for this man to stay in, and see he has comfort and every means to enjoy his stay, and honor him above all my other friends.”

  So it was done, and I stayed twenty days, attending all his lunches and dinners. When I expressed the wish to leave and return to my family, he ordered I should be given twenty thousand dinars and two hundred thousand dirhams, and a hundred camels all wi
th their tenders and garb. Then he asked me:

  “Have I filled your hands with joy, ʿAmara?”

  “God be praised, Prince of the Faithful,” I replied. “You still remember this?”

  “Yes,” he said. “There is no good in a man who forgets what he promises and remembers only what he threatens. How long has this been, ʿAmara?”

  “It seems as though just yesterday,” I said. “Yet the time has been long, Prince of the Faithful.”

  “This,” he said, “was not on account of any piece of news we learned, or any tradition we recorded or chronicle we narrated. Rather, I have, since my first youth, acted in certain ways whereby I hoped to raise my status and spread my name.”

  “And what might those be, Prince of the Faithful?” I asked.

  “I never flattered anyone,” he answered, “and never quarreled with anyone. And I never revealed anyone’s secrets, never committed any unlawful deed forbidden by God, never envied anyone, or oppressed anyone. And I was always the central bead in a necklace [binding everything together] for my people. I would honor anyone sitting with me, even though he were not a good man, and raise the status of the man of letters, and honor those who were steadfast; and I was forbearing with those of evil tongue, and had mercy on the weak. By this means, God has raised my status. Make ready to leave now, ʿAmara, and go on your way filled with honor.”

  From Burhan al-Din al-Kutubi, Ghurar al-Khasaʾis (The Finest Attributes); in Qisas al-ʿArab (Stories of the Arabs), vol. 1.

  13

  The Justice of ʿAdud al-Dawla

  Aman came to Baghdad on his way to the pilgrimage. He was wearing a necklace valued at a thousand dinars, which he tried to sell, but to no avail. And so he left it in the care of a perfume seller and went on the pilgrimage. When he returned, he brought the perfume seller a gift.

  “Who are you?” the perfume seller asked.