Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 08 (33 page)

With these thoughts he summoned up all his courage sprang on his
horse, and in less than a quarter of an hour was at the foot of the
hill. Here he dismounted, tied the horse to a bush, and, drawing out
Prince Omar's dagger climbed up the hill.

At the foot of the pillar stood six men round a tall and stately
person. His superb robe of cloth of gold was girt round him by a
white cashmere shawl, and his white, richly jewelled turban showed
that he was a man of wealth and high rank.

Labakan went straight up to him, and, bending low, handed him the
dagger, saying: 'Here am I whom you seek.'

'Praised be the Prophet who has preserved you! replied the old man
with tears of joy. 'Embrace me, my dear son Omar!'

The proud tailor was deeply moved by these solemn words, and
with mingled shame and joy sank into the old king's arms.

But his happiness was not long unclouded. As he raised his head he
saw a horseman who seemed trying to urge a tired or unwilling
horse across the plain.

Only too soon Labakan recognised his own old horse, Murva, and
the real Prince Omar, but having once told a lie he made up his
mind not to own his deceit.

At last the horseman reached the foot of the hill. Here he flung
himself from the saddle and hurried up to the pillar.

'Stop!' he cried, 'whoever you may be, and do not let a disgraceful
impostor take you in. My name is Omar, and let no one attempt to
rob me of it.'

This turn of affairs threw the standers-by into great surprise. The
old king in particular seemed much moved as he looked from one
face to the other. At last Labakan spoke with forced calmness,
'Most gracious lord and father, do not let yourself be deceived by
this man. As far as I know, he is a half-crazy tailor's apprentice
from Alexandria, called Labakan, who really deserves more pity
than anger.'

These words infuriated the prince. Foaming with rage, he tried to
press towards Labakan, but the attendants threw themselves upon
him and held him fast, whilst the king said, 'Truly, my dear son, the
poor fellow is quite mad. Let him be bound and placed on a
dromedary. Perhaps we may be able to get some help for him.'

The prince's first rage was over, and with tears he cried to the king,
'My heart tells me that you are my father, and in my mother's name
I entreat you to hear me.'

'Oh! heaven forbid!' was the reply. 'He is talking nonsense again.
How can the poor man have got such notions into his head?'

With these words the king took Labakan's arm to support him
down the hill. They both mounted richly caparisoned horses and
rode across the plain at the head of their followers.

The unlucky prince was tied hand and foot, and fastened on a
dromedary, a guard riding on either side and keeping a sharp
look-out on him.

The old king was Sached, Sultan of the Wachabites. For many
years he had had no children, but at length the son he had so long
wished for was born. But the sooth-sayers and magicians whom he
consulted as to the child's future all said that until he was
twenty-two years old he stood in danger of being injured by an
enemy. So, to make all safe, the sultan had confided the prince to
his trusty friend Elfi Bey, and deprived himself of the happiness of
seeing him for twenty-two years. All this the sultan told Labakan,
and was much pleased by his appearance and dignified manner.

When they reached their own country they were received with
every sign of joy, for the news of the prince's safe return had spread
like wildfire, and every town and village was decorated, whilst the
inhabitants thronged to greet them with cries of joy and
thankfulness. All this filled Labakan's proud heart with rapture,
whilst the unfortunate Omar followed in silent rage and despair.

At length they arrived in the capital, where the public rejoicings
were grander and more brilliant than anywhere else. The queen
awaited them in the great hall of the palace, surrounded by her
entire court. It was getting dark, and hundreds of coloured hanging
lamps were lit to turn night into day.

The brightest hung round the throne on which the queen sat, and
which stood above four steps of pure gold inlaid with great
amethysts. The four greatest nobles in the kingdom held a canopy
of crimson silk over the queen, and the Sheik of Medina fanned her
with a peacock-feather fan.

In this state she awaited her husband and her son. She, too, had not
seen Omar since his birth, but so many dreams had shown her what
he would look like that she felt she would know him among a
thousand.

And now the sound of trumpets and drums and of shouts and
cheers outside announced the long looked for moment. The doors
flew open, and between rows of lowbending courtiers and servants
the king approached the throne, leading his pretended son by the
hand.

'Here,' said he, 'is he for whom you have been longing so many
years.'

But the queen interrupted him, 'That is not my son!' she cried.
'That is not the face the Prophet has shown me in my dreams!'

Just as the king was about to reason with her, the door was thrown
violently open, and Prince Omar rushed in, followed by his keepers,
whom he had managed to get away from. He flung himself down
before the throne, panting out, 'Here will I die; kill me at once,
cruel father, for I cannot bear this shame any longer.'

Everyone pressed round the unhappy man, and the guards were
about to seize him, when the queen, who at first was dumb with
surprise, sprang up from her throne.

'Hold!' cried she. 'This and no other is the right one; this is the one
whom my eyes have never yet seen, but whom my heart recognises.'

The guards had stepped back, but the king called to them in a
furious voice to secure the madman.

'It is I who must judge,' he said in tones of command; 'and this
matter cannot be decided by women's dreams, but by certain
unmistakable signs. This one' (pointing to Labakan) 'is my son, for
it was he who brought me the token from my friend Elfi—the
dagger.'

'He stole it from me,' shrieked Omar; 'he betrayed my unsuspicious
confidence.'

But the king would not listen to his son's voice, for he had always
been accustomed to depend on his own judgment. He let the
unhappy Omar be dragged from the hall, whilst he himself retired
with Labakan to his own rooms, full of anger with the queen his
wife, in spite of their many years of happy life together.

The queen, on her side, was plunged in grief, for she felt certain
that an impostor had won her husband's heart and taken the place of
her real son.

When the first shock was over she began to think how she could
manage to convince the king of his mistake. Of course it would be
a difficult matter, as the man who declared he was Omar had
produced the dagger as a token, besides talking of all sorts of things
which happened when he was a child. She called her oldest and
wisest ladies about her and asked their advice, but none of them had
any to give. At last one very clever old woman said: 'Did not the
young man who brought the dagger call him whom your majesty
believes to be your son Labakan, and say he was a crazy tailor? '

'Yes,' replied the queen; 'but what of that?'

'Might it not be,' said the old lady, 'that the impostor has called your
real son by his own name? If this should be the case, I know of a
capital way to find out the truth.'

And she whispered some words to the queen, who seemed much
pleased, and went off at once to see the king.

Now the queen was a very wise woman, so she pretended to think
she might have made a mistake, and only begged to be allowed to
put a test to the two young men to prove which was the real prince.

The king, who was feeling much ashamed of the rage he had been
in with his dear wife, consented at once, and she said: 'No doubt
others would make them ride or shoot, or something of that sort,
but every one learns these things. I wish to set them a task which
requires sharp wits and clever hands, and I want them to try which
of them can best make a kaftan and pair of trousers.'

The king laughed. 'No, no, that will never do. Do you suppose my
son would compete with that crazy tailor as to which could make
the best clothes? Oh, dear, no, that won't do at all.'

But the queen claimed his promise, and as he was a man of his
word the king gave in at last. He went to his son and begged that
he would humour his mother, who had set her heart on his making a
kaftan.

The worthy Labakan laughed to himself. 'If that is all she wants,'
thought he, 'her majesty will soon be pleased to own me.'

Two rooms were prepared, with pieces of material, scissors,
needles and threads, and each young man was shut up in one of
them.

The king felt rather curious as to what sort of garment his son
would make, and the queen, too, was very anxious as to the result
of her experiment.

On the third day they sent for the two young men and their work.
Labakan came first and spread out his kaftan before the eyes of the
astonished king. 'See, father,' he said; 'see, my honoured mother, if
this is not a masterpiece of work. I'll bet the court tailor himself
cannot do better.

The queen smiled and turned to Omar: 'And what have you done,
my son?'

Impatiently he threw the stuff and scissors down on the floor. 'I
have been taught how to manage a horse, to draw a sword, and to
throw a lance some sixty paces, but I never learnt to sew, and such
a thing would have been thought beneath the notice of the pupil of
Elfi Bey, the ruler of Cairo.'

'Ah, true son of your father,' cried the queen; 'if only I might
embrace you and call you son! Forgive me, my lord and husband,'
she added, turning to the king, 'for trying to find out the truth in this
way. Do you not see yourself now which is the prince and which
the tailor? Certainly this kaftan is a very fine one, but I should like
to know what master taught this young man how to make clothes.'

The king sat deep in thought, looking now at his wife and now at
Labakan, who was doing his best to hide his vexation at his own
stupidity. At last the king said: 'Even this trial does not satisfy me;
but happily I know of a sure way to discover whether or not I have
been deceived.'

He ordered his swiftest horse to be saddled, mounted, and rode off
alone into a forest at some little distance. Here lived a kindly fairy
called Adolzaide, who had often helped the kings of his race with
her good advice, and to her he betook himself.

In the middle of the forest was a wide open space surrounded by
great cedar trees, and this was supposed to be the fairy's favourite
spot. When the king reached this place he dismounted, tied his
horse to the tree, and standing in the middle of the open place said:
'If it is true that you have helped my ancestors in their time of need,
do not despise their descendant, but give me counsel, for that of
men has failed me.'

He had hardly finished speaking when one of the cedar trees
opened, and a veiled figure all dressed in white stepped from it.

'I know your errand, King Sached,' she said; 'it is an honest one, and
I will give you my help. Take these two little boxes and let the two
men who claim to be your son choose between them. I know that
the real prince will make no mistake.'

She then handed him two little boxes made of ivory set with gold
and pearls. On the lid of each (which the king vainly tried to open)
was an inscription in diamonds. On one stood the words 'Honour
and Glory,' and on the other 'Wealth and Happiness.'

'It would be a hard choice,' thought the king as he rode home.

He lost no time in sending for the queen and for all his court, and
when all were assembled he made a sign, and Labakan was led in.
With a proud air he walked up to the throne, and kneeling down,
asked:

'What does my lord and father command?'

The king replied: 'My son, doubts have been thrown on your claim
to that name. One of these boxes contains the proofs of your birth.
Choose for yourself. No doubt you will choose right.'

He then pointed to the ivory boxes, which were placed on two little
tables near the throne.

Labakan rose and looked at the boxes. He thought for some
minutes, and then said: 'My honoured father, what can be better
than the happiness of being your son, and what nobler than the
riches of your love. I choose the box with the words "Wealth and
Happiness."'

'We shall see presently if you have chosen the right one. For the
present take a seat there beside the Pacha of Medina,' replied the
king.

Omar was next led in, looking sad and sorrowful. He threw himself
down before the throne and asked what was the king's pleasure.
The king pointed out the two boxes to him, and he rose and went to
the tables. He carefully read the two mottoes and said: 'The last
few days have shown me how uncertain is happiness and how easily
riches vanish away. Should I lose a crown by it I make my choice
of "Honour and Glory."'

He laid his hand on the box as he spoke, but the king signed to him
to wait, and ordered Labakan to come to the other table and lay his
hand on the box he had chosen.

Then the king rose from his throne, and in solemn silence all present
rose too, whilst he said: 'Open the boxes, and may Allah show us
the truth.'

The boxes were opened with the greatest ease. In the one Omar
had chosen lay a little gold crown and sceptre on a velvet cushion.
In Labakan's box was found—a large needle with some thread!

The king told the two young men to bring him their boxes. They
did so. He took the crown in his hand, and as he held it, it grew
bigger and bigger, till it was as large as a real crown. He placed it
on the head of his son Omar, kissed him on the forehead, and
placed him on his right hand. Then, turning to Labakan, he said:
'There is an old proverb, "The cobbler sticks to his last." It seems as
though you were to stick to your needle. You have not deserved
any mercy, but I cannot be harsh on this day. I give you your life,
but I advise you to leave this country as fast as you can.'