The Storyteller's Daughter

"Will you tell me a story?" he asked instead.

"A story!" exclaimed Shahrazad. "But Maju's trunk is in the palace."

"Can you not find a story in any piece of cloth?" Shahrayar inquired.

"I do not know," Shahrazad answered truthfully. "For I have never tried it. But I suppose it would be possible, for it is the finding of the story that is the true storyteller's art, or so Maju always told me."

"Then we could try it," Shahrayar insisted.

"Yes," Shahrazad acknowledged. "We could try. What piece of cloth would you have me decipher?"

“This one.

On impulse Shahrayar reached out and captured one of Shahrazad's wrists in his hand. With the other he pushed back her sleeve to reveal the small scrap of fabric he had noticed she always wore there. Never had he seen her without it, not even as she slept. He wondered what significance it had for her, and also what tale the cloth might hold.

"You wish to know the tale of this?" Shahrazad asked, her tone astonished. Her heart began to beat swift as a bird's wing within her breast. What did it mean that Shahrayar had been drawn to the only thing she wore that had come from Maju?

"I do," Shahrayar said. "Where did it come from?"

"Maju gave it to me long ago," Shahrazad replied. "In a time of trial and sorrow. I do not think she intended it as a gift, but I have treasured it always."

"Then if it comes from Maju, surely there must be a tale within it," Shahrayar said.

And Shahrazad answered, "I do not know, but since you wish it, I will try to find it."

"Thank you," said Shahrayar. He sat up, and with careful fingers, untied the piece of cloth from her wrist. But when he spread it out he exclaimed, "But surely this cloth has been stained with blood, Shahrazad!"

"It has been," she replied. "With mine when I was just a child."

And at her words, a memory came to Shahrayar. Of himself, also a child, concealed within the branches of a pomegranate tree, watching a young Shahrazad's wounds being bound up by her mother as the young girl poured the bitterness and grief from her heart.

"Why would you keep such a thing?" Shahrayar asked, though he thought he knew, for now he remembered what else had happened on that day long ago: The thing that she had vowed.

"So that I might remember my own promises to myself" Shahrazad said, confirming what Shahrayar surmised. "And also, that I might have some token of my mother. These are the tales I have added to this cloth," she went on, as if to forestall any further questions. "Now let us see what was there to start out.

So saying, she stretched out her hand and Shahrayar placed the piece of cloth upon her palm.

Shahrazad ran her fingers back and forth across the old stained piece of silk as if she had never touched it before.

"Ah!" she said at last. "It seems that you are right, my lord. A story may be found anywhere, if one is willing to search for it. The one that I have found here is called..."

Chapter 16

T H E T A L E O F T H E F I S H E R M A N , T H E P R I N C E , A N D T H E W A T E R

B E A R E R ' S D A U G H T E R

"Once, in a land much like our own, there lived a poor water bearer who had but one child, and that was a daughter. His wife had died in giving birth, and since the water bearer was too poor to remarry, father and daughter lived all alone, though they were not lonely. For such was their affection for one another, that even though it was not filled with fine things, to them their home seemed always full to overflowing.

"As the years went by, the child grew to be a young woman who possessed rich gifts in spite of her poor estate. And those gifts numbered four and were as follows: her kind heart, her beauty, her bravery, and her honesty.

"One day it happened that the prince of this land, who was something of a ne'er-do-well, interested more in looking like a prince than in acting like one, decided to elude his tutors and have a great adventure in the city which surrounded his palace. But, though he successfully managed to make his escape, it did not take long for him to lose his way once he had done so. For he did not know the city at all, being greatly sheltered and having only gone out previously with his servants and retainers to guide him.

"Being lost, he should have stood still and waited to be found. But, being foolish, he did not. Instead he began to wander. And so, after many hours he found himself in a rough portion of the city where things might have ended very badly for him indeed. For in his fine garments, with jewels flashing from almost every finger, it was not long before he was set upon by a band of thieves. They knocked him to the ground and dragged him into a nearby alley.

"But, having secured their prize, the thieves fell to doing what thieves often do, for they have no honor: They quarreled amongst themselves. Some of the band were all for cutting off the young man's fingers—

the better to obtain the rich jewels he wore. Others argued that it would be better to truss him up on a spit and suspend him over a pit of hot coals. In this way they could force him to reveal the name of his family and ransom him for more money than they had ever dreamed of.

"The prince had just reached the point where he was considering groveling in a very unprincelike ma

"Now, you might suppose, as the prince had, that a band of thieves would find little to fear from a water bearer who was not as young as he used to be, and his only child who was a daughter. But if you had supposed such a thing, you would have been as mistaken as the prince was, for in that rough place the Water bearer's strength was well known and commanded much respect. Had he not spent his life carrying burdens too heavy for others?

"And to the father's strength of body, there was added the daughter's bravery. She was quick as an eel and afraid of nothing.

“At the sight of the water bearer and his daughter, the thieves fled, leaving the prince alone. At first the prince feared he had met with ruffians much worse than the first, for who else could have put such desperate creatures to flight? But his fears were soon allayed when the water bearer and his daughter treated him with kindness. They took him to their home and tended to his wounds. The prince gazed about him in wonder, for never had he seen such a humble abode. Although it was clean, it had but one room, and that a small one. How could people of such goodness live in such surroundings?

"As the water bearer's daughter bound up his wounds, the prince could not help but notice her loveliness, and thus he spoke to her. Tell me how it is that a flower as beautiful as you can flourish in such a harsh and desperate place. Surely you belong in a well-tended garden.'

'"I have grown as I am exacdy where I was planted,' she replied. 'Is it not then the case that I am so because of my surroundings?'

"You are wise as well as beautiful, I see,' the prince said gallantly.

"And your mouth is as a honeycomb,' the girl answered honestly. 'What falls from it is sweet, but I fear the taste will not last long.'

'"Not so!' cried the prince, for like a bee, her words had stung him. He was unaccustomed to his flattery failing, and he had wanted to make a good impression upon the water bearer's daughter. 'If you knew my true identity, you would not say such a thing,' he went on, for it seemed to him that she must take him more seriously when she knew who he was.