Said the Narrator:
And when Abu Zeyd had made an end of speaking, and the Kadi Diab and the Sultan and Rih, and all had happened as hath been said, then the Emir Abu Zeyd mounted his running camel and bade farewell to the Arabs and was gone; and all they who remained behind were in fear thinking of his journey. But Abu Zeyd went on alone, nor stayed he before he came to the pastures of the Agheylat. And behold, in the first of their vallies as he journeyed onward the slaves of the Agheylat saw him and came upon him, threatening him with their spears, and they said to him, ``O Sheykh, who and what art thou, and what is thy story, and the reason of thy coming?'' And he said to them, ``O worthy men of the Arabs, I am a poet, of them that sing the praise of the generous and the blame of the niggardly.'' And they answered him, ``A thousand welcomes, O poet.'' And they made him alight and treated him with honour until night came upon their feasting, nor did he depart from among them until the night had advanced to a third, but remained with them, singing songs of praise, and reciting lettered phrases, until they were stirred by his words and astonished at his eloquence. And at the end of all he arrived at the praise of the Agheyli Jaber. Then stopped they him and said: ``He of whom thou speakest is the chieftain of our people, and he is a prince of the generous. Go thou, therefore, to him, and he shall give thee all, even thy heart's desire.'' And he answered them, ``Take ye care of my camel and keep her for me while I go forward to recite his praises, and on my return we will divide the gifts.'' And he left them. And as he went he set himself to devise a plan by which he might enter into the camp and entrap the Agheyli Jaber.
And the Narrator singeth of Abu Zeyd and of the herdsmen thus:
Saith the hero Abu Zeyd Salameh Helali:
My tears flowed as I struck the swift one with her bridle,
Turning her to the desert. And fifteen days I journeyed,
Making of fifteen eight, for she was in fleetest training.
And running I came to the herds of Agheyl and beheld the camels
Spread like locusts alit, and I knew my travel ended.
And lighting I stooped down, and tied her fast by the foreleg,
And looked to right and to left. And presently the herdsmen
Came with the slaves around. And ``O thou Sheykh'' they addressed me,
``Whence and what man art thou? our stranger guest or a prowler?''
And I, ``A poet am I, a singing man of the singers,
One from his youth afoot, the world's guest, and a stranger,
Singing the praise of kings, the generous--souled, the noble.''
And they, ``A welcome, poet, to thee be eighty welcomes.
Make thou a verse for us, display us of thy cunning.''
And I, ``I hear and obey, a thousand times obedient.''
And I clutched at my rebab and set her strings in order,
And took my bow in my hand, and making preparation
Struck the notes for a song of the songs of the Hejazi.
And I sang with reiteration, in four--and--twenty metres,
Hymns in praise of the great, the glorious one, the Prophet,
In measured phrase and verse, and afterwards recorded
Noble deeds of the world, the gathered sheaves of wisdom,
Giving to each its text. And last I came in my singing
To him the generous one, Fadel the Agheyli Jaber.
And they cried to me as I sang, ``This Fadel is our chieftain.
If but thou go to him he shall reward thee fairly
With raiment of all choice, and jacynth stones and jewels,
Perfumes and broidered silks, and purple and fine linen.''
And I, ``Quick, hold my camel. Anon will I be with ye.''
And the herdsmen answered ``Ay, and eighty thousand welcomes.
If that thou bidedst a year, yet shall thy beast find pasture.''
And I took my lute in my hand and sought his tent, the Agheyli,
Speaking low to myself, ``O thou Hejazi Salameh,
This is thy day of deceit, the noontide of thy cunning.
See to thy stratagems.'' And I laid my wallet before me,
Pondering ways and designs how I might come to my purpose.
Said the Narrator:
And when Abu Zeyd was on his way through the desert making to himself a plan how he should come into his foeman's camp unperceived, behold him of a sudden in the midst of them. And he saw the men of Agheyl to the right of him, and to the left, and in his front. And with them in their midst he saw a fair young lady, very beautiful to behold, with whom the fairest maidens of the Arabs were in converse. And the maiden turned her eyes to the desert and to the hills, and she perceived him coming. And she sent a young girl of those near her towards him.And the girl met him among the sand dunes and asked him ``Who and whence art thou, and what is thy business?'' And he told her that he was a traveller, of the pedlars who sell necklaces to the young maidens, and also that he was an hungred. And she brought him food and he ate, praising the Giver of all. And returning the girl told her mistress of his desire to serve her, and she bade him thread pearls upon a string and make settings for precious stones. And at once he set him to his work, and the young girl watched him. And he asked of her concerning the tents of her people and concerning the country where she lived. And she told him that the tents were set in three camps apart, and the first camp was for Fadel the Agheyli Jaber, and the second was for his daughter the Princess Alia and for the daughters of the Princes, and the third camp was for the mare. And she praised the worth of the mare and of her owner. And he said to her, ``In this mare are there four qualities, and three of the four are for joy, but one is for joy and sorrow.'' And when she heard this word the girl was very wroth, and she turned upon him and said, ``Of a truth thou art no honest guest, but even a spy and a traitor, and for this purpose art thou come hither, to pry into that which is hidden.''
And the Emir Abu Zeyd fled to the desert, and to himself he said, ``When they of the camp shall be sleeping, then will I return and steal the mare and flee with her away.'' And night fell, and he sat him down beneath a tree.
Then once more the Narrator singeth:
Saith the hero Abu Zeyd Salameh Helali:
``Save me, O Lord, from hurt and the contradiction of evil,
Take me, O Lord, by the hand, O Thou who hast power almighty,
Thou who dost clothe with a veil, be Thou my guard and protector!''
And I asked of the Merciful strength and patience to accomplish,
Walking thus through the land of doubt, a land which is barren.
And I reached my hand to my wallet and found in it things needful,
And I took from it an onion and an egg--shell of the ostrich,
And made a fire on the ground with twigs of the wild willow,
And in a golden bowl I mixed and turned the ingredients,
Then whitened I my beard and limned my face in wrinkles,
Lowering my brows a little and darkening one of my eyelids,
And I crooked my back like a bow, a bow bent for the shooting,
And donned my clothes of disguise, that seeing none might know me.
Thus sought I the plains of Agheyl when the sun was near to the westing,
And hunger pressed me hard, for hunger is ungracious;
And I cast my eyes around, and lo, like the stars for number,
Stood the tents in their ranks, as it were the Pleiades in heaven,
Each a cluster of stars; and among them a pavilion
Set for a leader of men; and mares were tethered round it,
And dromedaries trained as it were for a distant riding;
And hard beside a tent of silk, a fair refreshment
To the eyes as rain on the hills, the blest abode of women.
And next in a lofty place, set on a windy platform,
As it were a fortress in size, the booth of the great council,
Wonderful in its spread, its length full sixty paces.
And tears came to my eyes, for none in the world was like it.
And all around were slaves. And at the tent--ropes standing
Of a house of woven silk of the eighty there together,
I saw a damsel proud, the Agheyli Jaber's daughter:
Fifty attendants hers, mute girls who speak by signals.
And Alia from afar with her fair eyes beheld me,
And sent a maid to my help, of the maids that stood around her:
Running she came to me, while her anklets rang and clattered,
And her fair face shone like light, bent forward in her running,
Shone like a moon in the dark, dividing her hair's blackness.
And I prepared my words as a talker doth who is cunning.
But she began, ``O Sheykh of the Arabs, whence and whither?
Comest thou here a guest, or one of our foes, a prowler?''
And I said to her, ``Lady fair, the boon I ask is a breakfast.
I am a hungry man, and hunger is ungracious.
Not till my lips have tasted food can I do thy bidding.''
And she answered me, ``O Sheykh, to thee be eighty welcomes.
Hungry may no man be in the tent of Agheyli Jaber.
Here is of all abundance, and ever the guests uprising,
Praise his name who gave, a stream, a river of plenty.
Wait thou that I may bring what shall not leave thee thankless.''
And she left me and returned, and her hands were filled with dainties,
Even with food for kings, meats worthy the world's great ones.
And she stood before me in shame, as it were, a gazelle for coyness,
Offering dates with her hands and butter and milk of camels.
And I put my hand to the dates and still she pressed me ever;
And I drank of the milk my fill, she bidding me still welcome,
Health and a thousand welcomes, and last she asked me my story.
And I said to her, ``Ay, truly, thy mind will I enlighten.''
And she said, ``Speak truth and tell, Art thou and honest walker,
Or one that prowleth around?'' And I told her my condition,
As one a stringer of gems, a necklace--maker for damsels.
And she went and came again, and ``Thus,'' she said, ``saith Alia,
Wouldst thou rejoice her heart, then weave her a chain of value.''
And I, ``Then bring the wool, the first shorn of the camel.''
And she brought me all I desired, and I wove the necklace fairly,
Linking it like a chain. And I laid the threads together
And ended all with a knot, and I strung it thick with rubies,
Reciting still as I wove new texts from the Holy Scripture.
And I charged her that her mistress should wear it night and morning.
And she went and she returned. And ``Thus,'' said she, ``saith Alia:
Since that the night is at hand do thou remain in our dwellings.
Meat is for thee and raiment.'' And I, ``As thy queen desireth.
Yet, O thou fair one, say, Whose house is this pavilion?
And who the warriors round? Belike they guard them a treasure.''
And she, ``That is nought to thee, so thou be an honest walker.
Rather hold thy peace, lest these around suspect thee.
This is the tent of Alia, and that of the Prince Agheyli,
And that the third, apart, of the mare of Agheyli Jaber,
The grey mare, the renowned: in the world there is none like her,
Not with the Persian kings, the Chosroës, the Irani.
Spare is her head and lean, her ears set close together;
Her forelock is a net, her forehead a lamp lighted,
Illumining the tribe, her neck curved like a palm branch,
Her wither clean and sharp. Upon her chest and throttle
An amulet hangs of gold. Her forelegs are twin lances.
Her hoofs fly forward faster ever than flies the whirlwind.
Her tail bone held aloft, yet the hairs sweep the gravel;
Her height twice eight, sixteen, taller than all the horses.
Here are her virtues told in full enumeration,
Dear to her master's eye as gold and precious jewels.''
And the grooms who heard her said, ``Let not this guest despise her.''
But she, ``Nay, verily; so ye but fasten the hobbles.''
And Salameh heard their talk and smiled, this prince of deceivers,
And he said, ``O maiden, hearken. I have a thing for thy hearing.
So thou but speakest truth, the mare is indeed of the coursers.
So thou but speakest truth, then are three flames extinguished.
But of the fourth, the fiercest, behold thou stirrest the embers.''
And the damsel heard him speak and answered straight in anger:
``Bitter words are these, O Sheykh, as the edge of a dagger.
Nay, by thy tongue I know thee, thou art no Sheykh of the great ones;
Rather a prowler around, a spying thief of the camp--fires;
One with a heart of blackness seeking our queen of coursers.
Verily this thy speech betrayeth thee for a traitor;
Verily she who hath ears hath heard thy words in amazement.
Spying the land thou art come a traitor--guest to our pastures,
Spying and stealing away the mare of Agheyli Jaber.
Thus have I read thy riddle, the sense of thy dark saying.
One to thy ear hath been and told the fame of her glory,
Covetous--sick of the mare, in longing night and morning,
Till thou didst rise and spread thy cunning nets for her taking,
Hoping to win renown and hie thee home to thy people.
These three things thou hast shown, the quenching of thy heart--flames,
These three things, and the fourth to fire the wrath of her owner;
Thus read I thy riddle, thy idle words I interpret.
Now therefore take this counsel, get thee gone from our dwellings.
Fly for the life thou hast nor linger here for its losing;
Fly ere I send thee forth to death's unjoyful dwellings;
Fly ere I spread the word and bring the Arabs upon thee,
Mounted on steeds of speed to question me of thy doings;
And I shall tell them truth, and yield thee to the spearpoints,
Nor shalt thou succour find nor any to show thee pity.''
And Abu Zeyd was grieved for what he had said to the damsel,
Yet took he courage and cried, ``Enough of this fool's talking.
Never may fate befriend me if it have sense or meaning.
Ha! the mare, what is she that I should wish for or win her?
Never in all my days have I bent my leg to a saddle,
Being of those unskilled, and little apt in the learning.''
He spoke, and rose to go in anger, he the dark one;
And she too to the camp, to her own tribe and people,
Even to Alia's tent. But presently Salameh
Passed on his way in doubt and fear and consternation,
Thinking of those her words, hers with the plaited tresses,
And, ``O thou,'' to himself he said, ``thou innocent--minded!
Thou forsooth the father of wiles, the old deceiver!
How hath she laid thee bare and cozened thy beguiling,
Reading all thy thought and making plain thy plottings!
And she is gone from thee, and thou art alone unfriended,
A stranger among foes, and who shall give thee shelter?''
Then on his musing fell the depth of night and of darkness,
And still Salameh pondered grieving his black fortune.
And when it was fully night he cast his eyes in a circle,
Where he might win a lodging in the wide, naked desert.
And he spoke again to himself, ``Salameh, thou the Hejazi,
Now is thy hour to do, the occasion of thy cunning,
For well hath the poet sung, he, Ibn Arus the singer,
`The black night fell on the world, and lo, in its trail the prowler.'''
And musing thus he passed beyond the farthest campfires,
Till lo, a spreading tree at his hand with low--set branches.
And Abu Zeyd rejoiced and entered within its borders,
``And here,'' said he, ``will I rest, and sit me down till the midnight,
Even till the break of dawn when the camp shall be unguarded,
And I in my steps may turn unseen and all things accomplish,
Making prize of the mare, and so to my own people.''
