Aladdin went down to the princess’s apartments. He embraced her, saying: ‘Princess, I can assure you that tomorrow morning, your joy and mine will be complete.’ Then, as the princess had not yet finished eating and Aladdin was hungry, she had the dishes – which had hardly been touched – brought from the room of the twenty-four windows. She and Aladdin ate together and drank of the magician’s fine old wine, after which, having no doubt enjoyed conversation which must have been very satisfying, they withdrew to her apartments.
Meanwhile, the sultan, since the disappearance of Aladdin’s palace and of Princess Badr, had been inconsolable at having lost her, or so he thought. Unable to sleep by night or day, instead of avoiding everything that could keep him in his sorrow, he, on the contrary, sought it out all the more. Whereas previously he would only go in the morning to his closet to enjoy gazing at the palace – of which he could never have his fill – now he would go there several times a day to renew his tears and plunge himself into ever deeper suffering by the thought that he would never again see what had given him so much pleasure and that he had lost what he held dearest in the world. Dawn was just breaking when the sultan came to this room the morning that Aladdin’s palace had just been restored to its place. He was lost in thought as he entered it and filled with grief as he glanced sadly at the spot, not noticing the palace at first, as he was expecting to see only an empty space. When he saw that the space was no longer empty, he thought at first that this must be the effect of the mist. But when he looked more closely, he realized that it must be, without doubt, Aladdin’s palace. Sadness and sorrow immediately gave way to joy and delight. He hastened to return to his apartments where he gave orders for a horse to be saddled and brought to him, and as soon as it was brought, he mounted and set off, thinking he could not arrive fast enough at Aladdin’s palace.
Aladdin, expecting this to happen, had got up at first light and had taken out of his wardrobe one of his most magnificent costumes, put it on and gone up to the room of the twenty-four windows, from where he could see the sultan approaching. He went down and was just in time to welcome him at the foot of the staircase and to help him dismount. ‘Aladdin,’ the sultan said to him, ‘I can’t speak to you before I have seen and embraced my daughter.’ Aladdin then led the sultan to the princess’s apartments, where she had just finished dressing. He had already told her to remember that she was no longer in Africa but in China, in the capital of her father, the sultan, and next to his palace once again. The sultan, his face bathed in tears of joy, embraced her several times, while the princess, for her part, showed him how overjoyed she was at seeing him again.
For a while the sultan was unable to speak, so moved was he at having found his beloved daughter again after having so bitterly wept for her loss, sincerely believing she must be dead. The princess, too, was in tears, in her joy at seeing her father again. Finally, the sultan said to her: ‘My daughter, I would like to think that it’s the joy of seeing me again which makes you seem so little changed, as though no misfortune had happened to you. But I am convinced you have suffered a great deal, for one is not carried off with an entire palace as suddenly as you were without great alarm and terrible anguish. I want you to tell me all about it and to hide nothing from me.’
The princess was only too happy to tell him what he wanted to know. ‘Sire,’ she said, ‘if I appear to be so little changed, I beg your majesty to bear in mind that I received a new life early yesterday morning thanks to Aladdin, my beloved husband and deliverer whom I had looked on and mourned as lost to me and whom the joy of seeing and embracing again has all but restored me. Yet my greatest distress was to see myself snatched both from your majesty and from my dear husband, not only because of my love for my husband but also because of my worry that he, innocent though he was, should feel the painful consequences of your majesty’s anger, to which I had no doubt he would be exposed. I suffered only a little from the insolence of my kidnapper – whose conversation I found disagreeable, but which I could put an end to, because I knew how to gain the upper hand. Besides, I was as little constrained as I am now. As for my abduction, Aladdin had no part in it: I alone – though totally innocent – am to blame for it.’
In order to persuade the sultan of the truth of what she said, she told him in detail all about the African magician, how he had disguised himself as a seller of lamps who exchanged new lamps for old ones, and how she had amused herself by exchanging Aladdin’s lamp, not knowing its secret and importance; how, after this exchange, she and the palace had been lifted up and both transported to Africa together with the magician; how the latter had been recognized by two of her slave girls and by the eunuch who had exchanged the lamp for her, when the magician first had the effrontery to come and present himself to her after the success of his audacious enterprise, and to propose marriage to her; how she had suffered at his hands until the arrival of Aladdin; and what measures the two of them had taken to remove the lamp which the magician carried on him and how they had succeeded, particularly by her dissimulation in inviting him to have supper with her; and, finally, she told him of the poisoned goblet she had offered to the magician. ‘As for the rest,’ she concluded, ‘I leave it to Aladdin to tell you about it.’
Aladdin had little more to tell the sultan. ‘When the secret door was opened and I went up to the room of the twenty-four windows,’ he said, ‘I saw the traitor stretched out dead on the sofa, thanks to the virulence of the poison powder. As it was not proper for the princess to remain there any longer, I begged her to go down to her apartments with her slave girls and eunuchs. As soon as I was there alone, I extracted the lamp from the magician’s clothing and made use of the same secret password he used to remove the palace and kidnap the princess. By that means the palace was restored to where it had formerly stood and I had the happiness of bringing the princess back to your majesty, as you had commanded me. I don’t want to impose upon your majesty but if you would take the trouble to go up to the room, you would see the magician punished as he deserves.’
The sultan, to convince himself that this was really true, got up and went to the room and when he saw the magician lying dead, his face already turned livid thanks to the virulent effect of the poison, he embraced Aladdin very warmly, saying: ‘My son, don’t think ill of me for my conduct towards you – I was forced to it out of paternal love and you must forgive me for being overzealous.’ ‘Sire,’ replied Aladdin, ‘I have not the slightest cause for complaint against your majesty, since you did only what you had to do. This magician, this wretch, this vilest of men, he is the sole cause of my fall from favour. When your majesty has the time, I will tell you about another wicked deed he did me, no less foul than this, from which it is only by a particular favour of God that I was saved.’ ‘I will indeed make time for this and soon, but let us think only of rejoicing and have this odious object removed.’
Aladdin had the magician’s corpse taken away and gave orders that it be thrown on to a dunghill for the birds and beasts to feed on. The sultan, meanwhile, after having commanded that tambourines, drums, trumpets and other musical instruments be played to announce the public rejoicing, proclaimed a festival of ten days to celebrate the return of Princess Badr and Aladdin with his palace. Thus was Aladdin faced for a second time with almost inevitable death, yet managed to escape with his life. But it was not the last time – there was to be a third occasion, the circumstances of which we will now tell.
The magician had a younger brother who was no less skilled in the magic arts; one may even say that he surpassed him in wickedness and in the perniciousness of his schemes. They did not always live together nor even stay in the same city, and often one was to be found in the east and the other in the west. But every year they did not fail to inform each other, by geomancy, in what part of the world and in what condition they were, and whether one of them needed the assistance of the other.
Some time after the magician had failed in his attempt to destroy Aladdin’s good fortune, his younger brother, who had not heard from him for a year and who was not in Africa but in some far-off land, wanted to know in what part of the world his brother resided, how he was and what he was doing. Wherever he went this brother always carried with him his geomancy box, as had his elder brother. Taking the box, he arranged the sand, made his throw, interpreted the figures and finally made his divination. On examining each figure, he found that his brother was no longer alive, that he had been poisoned and had died a sudden death, and that this had happened in the capital city of a kingdom in China, situated in such-and-such a place. He also learned that the man who had poisoned him was someone of good descent who had married a princess, a sultan’s daughter.
Having learned in this way of his brother’s sad fate, the magician wasted no time in useless regret, which could not restore his brother to life, but immediately resolving to avenge his death, he mounted a horse and set off for China. He crossed plains, rivers, mountains and deserts, and after a long and arduous journey, without stopping, he finally reached China and shortly afterwards the capital city whose location he had discovered by geomancy. Certain that this was the place and that he had not mistaken one kingdom for another, he stopped and took up lodgings there.
The day after his arrival, this magician went out into the city, not so much to see its fine sights – to which he was quite indifferent – as to begin to take the necessary steps to carry out his evil plan, and so he entered the most frequented districts and listened to what people were saying. There, in a place where people went to spend the time playing different kinds of games, some playing while others stood around chatting, exchanging news and discussing the affairs of the day or their own, he heard people talking of a woman recluse called Fatima, about her virtue and piety and of the miracles she performed. Believing this woman could be of some use to him for what he had in mind, he took one of the men aside and asked him to tell him particularly who this holy woman was and what sort of miracles she performed.
‘What!’ the man exclaimed. ‘Have you never seen or even heard of her? She is the admiration of the whole city for her fasting, her austerity and her exemplary conduct. Except for Mondays and Fridays, she never leaves her little cell, and on the days she shows herself in the city she does countless good deeds, and there is not a person with a headache who is not cured by a touch of her hands.’
The magician wished to know no more on the subject, but only asked the man where in the city the cell of this holy woman was to be found. The man told him, whereupon – after having conceived and drawn up the detestable plan which we will shortly reveal and after having made this enquiry – so as to make quite sure, he observed this woman’s every step as she went about the city, never leaving her out of his sight until evening when he saw her return to her cell. When he had made a careful note of the spot, he went back to one of the places we have mentioned where a certain hot drink is drunk and where one can spend the whole night should one so wish, especially during the days of great heat when the people in such countries prefer to sleep on a mat rather than in a bed.
Towards midnight, the magician, after he had settled his small bill with the owner of the place, left and went straight to the cell of this holy woman, Fatima – the name by which she was known throughout the city. He had no difficulty in opening the door, which was fastened only with a latch, and entered, without making a sound, and closed it again. Spotting Fatima in the moonlight, lying asleep on a sofa with only a squalid mat on it, her head leaning against the wall of her cell, he went up to her and, drawing out a dagger he wore at his side, woke her up. When poor Fatima opened her eyes, she was very astonished to see a man about to stab her. Pressing the dagger to her heart, ready to plunge it in, he said to her: ‘If you cry out or make the slightest sound, I will kill you. Get up and do as I say.’
Fatima, who had been sleeping fully dressed, got up trembling with fear. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the magician. ‘All I want is your clothes. Give them to me and take mine instead.’ They exchanged clothes and after the magician had put hers on, he said to her: ‘Paint my face like yours so that I look like you and so that the colour doesn’t come off.’ Seeing that she was still trembling, he said to her, in order to reassure her and so that she might be readier to do what he wanted: ‘Don’t be afraid, I say. I swear by God that I will spare your life.’ Fatima let him into her cell and lit her lamp. Dipping a brush into a liquid in a certain jar, she brushed his face with it, assuring him that the colour would not change and that his face was now the same colour as hers. Then she put her own headdress on his head and a veil, showing him how to conceal his face with it when he went through the city. Finally, after she put around his neck a large string of beads which hung down to the waist, she placed in his hand the same stick she used to walk with. ‘Look,’ she said to him, handing him a mirror, ‘you will see you couldn’t look more like me.’ The magician looked just as he wanted to look, but he did not keep the oath he had so solemnly sworn to the saintly woman. In order to leave no trace of blood, he did not stab her but strangled her and when he saw that she had given up the ghost, he dragged her corpse by the feet to a cistern outside her cell and threw her into it.
Having committed this foul murder, the magician, disguised as Fatima, spent the rest of the night in her cell. The next day, an hour or two after sunrise, he left the cell, even though it was not a day when the holy woman would go out, quite sure that no one would stop and question him about it but ready with an answer if they did. One of the first things he had done on his arrival in the city was to go and look for Aladdin’s palace, and as it was there he intended to put his plan into action, he went directly to it.
As soon as people saw what they thought to be the holy woman, a large crowd gathered around the magician, some asking for his prayers, some kissing his hands – the more reserved among them kissing the edge of his garment – and others, whether they had a headache or merely wanted to be protected from one, bowing their heads for him to lay his hands on them, all of which he did, mumbling a few words in the guise of a prayer. In fact, he imitated the holy woman so well that everyone believed it was really her. After frequent stops to satisfy such requests – for while this sort of laying-on of hands did them no harm, nor did it do them any good – he finally arrived in the square before Aladdin’s palace where, the crowd being even greater, people were ever more eager to get close to him. The strongest and most zealous forced their way through to get to him and this caused such quarrels that they could be heard from the palace, right from the room with the twenty-four windows where Princess Badr was sitting.
The princess asked what all the noise was about and as no one could tell her anything about it, she gave orders for someone to go and see and report back to her. Without leaving the room, one of her slave girls looked out through a screen and came back to tell her that the noise came from the crowd of people who gathered around the saintly lady, to be cured of headaches by the laying-on of her hands. Now the princess, who had heard a lot about the holy woman and the good she did but had never yet seen her, was curious to talk to her. When she expressed something of her desire to the chief eunuch, who was present, he told her that if she wished, he could easily have the woman brought in – she had only to give the command. The princess agreed, and he immediately chose four eunuchs and ordered them to fetch the so-called holy woman.
As soon as the crowd saw the eunuchs come out of the gates of Aladdin’s palace and make for the disguised magician, they dispersed and the magician, finding himself once more alone and seeing the eunuchs coming for him, stepped towards them, delighted to see his deceit was working so well. One of the eunuchs then said to him: ‘Holy lady, the princess wants to see you; come, follow us,’ to which the pseudo-Fatima replied: ‘The princess does me a great honour; I am ready to obey her,’ and followed the eunuchs, who had already set out back to the palace.
