He stayed there a few days, and then he said: “Father, I want to go a-hunting.”—“I’m afraid you may go off like the last time and be a long time in coming back.” “Oh no,” said Sultān Mahmad, “I’ll come back soon.” Some men went with him, and again the same gazelle appeared and they surrounded it. It came towards Sultān Mahmad, then it gave a leap, started aside, and bounded away, while Sultān Mahmad pursued it to the entrance of the cave. He found there was singing going on inside, and, advancing farther into the cave, he saw a beautiful lady, so beautiful that there was no one like her, sitting on a throne.
Then Sultān Mahmad threw her to the ground
He made his salāms, and she said: “Come and sit down.” He went and sat down by her, and she said: “Oh golden youth.” “Yes,” said he. “I have a wager,” she went on, “that whoever can throw me to the ground, I and all I possess will become his. And there is a young man just like yourself who will become yours if you win. And if I throw you I’ll send you after your brother.” “All right,” said Sultān Mahmad, and then they got up and started wrestling. Then Sultān Mahmad put out his hands and seized her by the arms in the way the old man had shown him, and put his leg in front of hers, and threw her to the ground and tied her hands.
“Don’t tie my hands,” said she, “I belong to you now.” —“I won’t agree to untie them till you show me my brother.” “Go and get that bottle, then,” said she, “and hold it to your brother’s nose till he recovers consciousness; and you can do what you like with the other prisoners.” He went and took the bottle and held it to his brother’s nose, and he came to his senses, and they threw their arms round each other’s neck and wept.
Then they got up and came to the Lady and untied her hands. After that they gave themselves up to mirth and jollity, and they told each other their stories. Then morning came, and they set the prisoners free and restored them to consciousness, and they loaded up everything they cared for and went off.
The Lady too they took away with them, and Sultān Mahmad married her, and Malik Mahmad found his wife, the Kadkhudā’s daughter, waiting for him in the village, and they all went off to their own country and settled down there in peace.
The story is ended.
XXXIII
THE STORY OF AHMAD GIRDŪ AND HIS TWO BROTHERS
THERE were once three brothers, one of whom was called Nāsir, one Khōnkār, and the third Ahmad Girdū. They quarrelled and fought, and at last Ahmad Girdū got angry and went away to Arabistān. Now the Khān of that country had died, and a great number of people were gathered together to fly a hawk, for it was agreed that on whosoever’s head the hawk alighted he should be their ruler.
As it chanced, the hawk lighted on the head of Ahmad Girdū. But the people turned him out of the assembly and hid him away, so that the hawk might not settle on the head of a stranger. He was put in a room, but the hawk flew in through the window and alighted on his head. Then they all decided in his favour, and said: “Fathers, it is this man’s destiny. What harm will there be in letting him be ruler for one year till we see what sort of a man he is and what sort of virtue he is endowed with? If he brings prosperity to our flocks and herds, then let him continue to be our ruler; but if he proves evil, then we’ll turn him out.” So they brought him along and installed him as Governor, and they gave him a wife and built a house for him.
And so things went on, until one day Khōnkār, who was the eldest brother, said: “O Nāsir, let us go and look for Ahmad Girdū and find where he has gone to.” They went along till they came near the village where Ahmad Girdū was, and there they saw a cowherd. They inquired from him, saying: “We have lost track of a man, Ahmad Girdū is his name. Do you know anything of him?”
“Yes, indeed,” said the cowherd. “We have one Ahmad, Ahmad Khān is his name.” So they went to the house of Ahmad Girdū, and finding that he wasn’t in, they sat down and waited till he came. When Ahmad returned, he said to his wife: “Look after these people till I come back.” Now Nāsir and Khōnkār saw that there was a basket of dates in the room, and they took counsel together, saying: “Let us take it and go off with it.”
Night came, and their hosts put down bedding on the floor for them, and they lay down to sleep, but at midnight they got up and went off with the basket of dates, and they hurried along the road as quickly as they could go. Now Ahmad woke up and he saw that the basket of dates was missing, so he said: “Wife, give me my thick stick. They have carried off the basket of dates.”
As Khōnkār and Nāsir proceeded along the road, the former went on in front, and Nāsir followed behind with the basket. When Ahmad saw this, he feigned in the darkness to be Khōnkār, and said: “Brother Nāsir, give me the basket for a change, and go you on in front as an advanced guard,” and with that he took over the basket and went home with it.
When Khōnkār and Nāsir rejoined each other, Khōnkār said: “Brother, what have you done with the basket?” “Why, I gave it to you,” said Nāsir. “No, by the Qur’ān,” said Khōnkār, “it must be Ahmad Girdū who has taken it.” Then they turned back again to Ahmad’s house. Now in the meantime Ahmad had dug a hole in the ground and put the basket in it, and he and his wife had lain down to sleep on the top of it.
Khōnkār and Nāsir crept up beside them as they slept and pushed the wife off to one side and the husband to the other, and they tore up the felt cloth they were lying on and pulled out the basket. Then they put it on their shoulders and went off along the road as hard as they could go.
Not long after, Ahmad woke up and said: “Wife, they’ve carried off the basket again. Give me my thick stick.” Then he hurried off after them, and when he came up he found that Nāsir had gone off to a village to get a set of scales in order to divide up the dates. So Ahmad came up, pretending in the darkness to be Nāsir, and said: “I haven’t been able to get anything. Supposing you were to go and were able to get some sort of a vessel, we could then divide up the dates.” So Khōnkār went off to another camp, and Ahmad took up the basket and went home.
Then Khōnkār brought back one pair of scales and Nāsir brought back another, and they found that the basket had once more been carried off. After that they went on towards their home and did not turn back again.
Now as they went along they saw a golden slipper lying on the ground. They didn’t know what it was, and left it lying there. They went on another three miles or so, and saw another golden slipper lying on the ground. “I’ll go back for that first slipper,” said Khōnkār, “so that I may take the pair to my wife.” So Khōnkār turned back and Nāsir went on to his home.1
When he got there Nāsir said to his wife: “Pull down the tent on top of me, and start wailing and keep crying out: ‘My husband is dead!’” She pulled down the tent on top of him and started wailing. Then people collected, and they tied Nāsir on a bier. Meanwhile Khōnkār arrived on the scene, and said: “Brother Nāsir, you may have the slippers for yourself,” but Nāsir made no reply.
They carried the body to the water-side to wash it,1 and Khōnkār said: “He is my brother, I will wash him.” They put down the body in water cold as ice and it began to shiver. “Don’t die, you rascal,” said Khōnkār, “you may have the slippers for yourself. They are just on the point of carrying you away and burying