A Group of Eastern Romances and Stories from the Persian, Tamil and Urdu. Anonymous
Manssur replied: “In the garden of our house is a tree on which I once climbed, when a portion of my belt was torn off, which I tied to a branch. If you bring me a rag of the belt I shall then believe you.” When he had said this the witch went again to the phial, and, as before, disappeared. This time the girl brought Shah Manssur a stone; he invoked the aid of God the Most High, and striking the phial, it flew into pieces. Then the lion roared, the chains clanked, the little bells jingled, a fearful noise was heard, some blood dripped from the ceiling of the apartment to the ground, and the magical apparatus, the furniture, the chambers, and the entire edifice vanished, leaving Shah Manssur and the maiden standing together in a cemetery, and both poured forth their thanks to the Most High. Then the girl said: “My dear friend, from hence to Agra is ten days’ journey;” and handing him some costly pearls she added, “try to convey me quickly to my parents, and buy with these pearls all that is necessary for me on the way.” Shah Manssur purchased a camel with a litter and a slave for the damsel, and sent her off to her own country, after which he set out on foot, and in a destitute condition, for Burhanpúr.
When Shah Manssur arrived at his destination he heard that the Amír of Burhanpúr, while hunting, had lost a precious gem from the hilt of his sword, and had issued an order that all the citizens should go next morning to the hunting ground in search of it. So rich and poor, gentle and simple, left the city and roamed about. Shah Manssur joined the crowd, and was fortunate enough to find the lost gem. On presenting it to the Amír he was highly pleased, praised him greatly, and questioned him as to his connections and circumstances; after which he gave him in charge of one of his chamberlains to provide for him as soon as possible. It happened, however, that the Amír died suddenly, and the reward promised to Manssur came to nothing.
The son of the Amír succeeded his father. One day a merchant presented him with a parrot that could speak with great eloquence, and the new Amír entrusted it to the care of the chamberlain, who took the bird home, and having sent for Manssur said to him: “Take the utmost care of this parrot, for it may become the means of introducing you to the Amír, and of your obtaining the reward which his father promised you.”[22] Manssur took charge of the bird and carried it away; but when he got into the street the people were all so anxious to see it and pressed so much upon him that he thought it would be better to take the parrot out of the cage and carry it in his hand. But unluckily it escaped from his grasp and flew to the top of the chamberlain’s haram. Manssur had great trouble in climbing the wall, and just as he had succeeded the parrot again flitted away and alighted on the roof of one of the haram apartments. Shah Manssur was so frightened that he said nothing to the eunuch and other servants, but threw up a cord, by means of which he contrived to reach the spot; but once more the parrot started off, and in so doing moved a tile which fell on the head of the chief lady of the chamberlain’s haram and killed her there and then. The eunuchs and maid-servants, on discovering this fatal mishap, raised their voices in lamentation, which caused the chamberlain to leave his office and run into the haram, where he found everyone in a state of great agitation, and Shah Manssur a captive in the hands of the eunuchs, and he at once ordered the culprit to be beaten and thrown into prison, where the poor fellow was kept for some time and tormented every day until he found a favourable opportunity and escaped.
Shah Manssur fled to Guzerat, where he wandered about in great distress, sometimes hiring himself out as a labourer and sometimes as a porter. One day, when he was unable to obtain either food or employment, he determined to sell the ring with which the neighbour’s wife had presented him.[23] He was chiefly induced to take this step by sniffing the appetising fumes of roast meat in passing a cook’s shop, the owner of which he approached, and requesting something to eat offered the ring in pledge for the price. But when the cook looked at the ruby set in the beazle and then at the poverty-stricken figure of Shah Manssur, he felt sure that he could not be the lawful possessor of such a gem but must have stolen it, and that, not knowing its real value, he was ready to part with it for a meal. Now it chanced that during the preceding night some thieves had broken into the treasury of the Amír and stolen a great quantity of gold, silver, precious stones, and valuables of all kinds; and this audacious robbery had become known throughout the city and the police were busy searching the bazárs and private houses for the thieves. So the cook said to Shah Manssur: “Friend, you do not look like the owner of such a ring as this;—come, tell me where you got it?” “What business have you thus to question me?” replied Manssur. “Either give me something to eat or return me the ring.” These words gave rise to a dispute, which culminated in a fight, wherein the neighbours took the part of the cook, and on the arrival of the police on the scene they took the ring from the cook, and thinking it to be one of the articles stolen from the treasury they dragged Shah Manssur before their superintendent, and reported that they had recovered a portion of the stolen treasure and captured the thief.
It happened that a notorious robber named Obayd was at that time, with forty companions, carrying on great depredations which the police were unable to prevent, and his fame had so widely spread through Hindústán that day and night no one could breathe in peace. It is even said that a few days before the robbery of the Amír’s treasury Obayd sent a message to the police superintendent, to be on his guard, as he was coming. Consequently, when the superintendent saw Manssur he supposed him to be Obayd, loaded him with heavy chains, and sent him to the Amír, together with the ring, for the purpose of ingratiating himself and displaying his zeal in the service. But when the Amír looked at Shah Manssur, he said: “I have always heard that Obayd is a powerful and strong man; this fellow is weak and looks like an arrant coward: he may possibly be an accomplice, but he cannot be Obayd himself.” The superintendent, however, replied: “May your highness live for ever! This man, who seems so feeble, is strong and bold, and so nimble that he can jump through a finger-ring. But now that he has been captured by me his powerful limbs have shrunk together from fear; and I shall put him to the torture forthwith to compel him to tell the truth.” Said the Amír to Shah Manssur: “Who are you? and whence have you obtained this ruby?” He replied, “May the Amír live long! I am a stranger, and the ring is my own property. I have come to this country on account of the great name and the good report which I have heard of the Amír. I have fallen into the hands of the police, but I have no knowledge at all of the robbery of your highness’ treasury.” The apparatus of torture was then brought, and Shah Manssur, being suspended by the heels of punishment, forgot in his misery the name of Obayd and said, “I am Zubayr, and have robbed the treasury.” Now there was a famous robber of the name of Zubayr, so the Amír believed the poor fellow’s statement and remarked: “He may be Zubayr.” The superintendent said to his men: “Take good care of this man to-night, and in the morning we shall again examine him.” Accordingly they took Manssur to prison, all believing him to be the robber Zubayr. On the way all the people who had been robbed by Zubayr rushed up to Manssur and demanded their property; but the superintendent said: “Do not be uneasy. I shall get back to the last farthing everything he has taken from you.”
When night set in special watchmen were appointed to guard the prison, and vaunting their own bravery and fidelity, they took charge of the four corners thereof. Shah Manssur was unable to sleep, and was thinking how the morning would dawn on his innocent head, when he heard sounds of striking and digging. It was midnight, and he hearkened to the sounds with fear and trembling, till suddenly the wall opened, from which a hand grasping a sword protruded, at which Manssur became so terrified that he nearly fainted, for he weened it was a man belonging to the police. A voice, however, exclaimed: “Friend, be not afraid. I have come to save you. We have no time to lose in explanations;” and with these words a strong man seized Shah Manssur with his fetters and chains, carried him out of the prison, let him down the wall of the fort by a rope, and conveyed him quickly to a ruin at a distance of nearly three farasangs. When he arrived there he placed Manssur on his feet, and raising a great stone which covered the entrance to an underground chamber, they descended into it, and there he set poor Manssur free from his heavy bonds, after which he thus addressed him: “Young man, be comfortable and rest yourself, for I know you have suffered much.” Then placing before him different kinds of delicious food, he added: “Eat cheerfully, for your misfortunes are now ended.”
After Shah Manssur had eaten he went to sleep; and when he awoke he spoke thus to his deliverer: “Generous and kind man, although honesty radiates from your august countenance and I feel