Prince Camaralzaman and Princess Badoura

King Shahzaman ruled the island kingdom of the Children of Khaledan and longed for an heir. After consulting his vizier and asking for prayers, he welcomed a son, Camaralzaman, who grew into a gifted and carefully educated young man. The king wanted him to marry before taking on the crown, but the prince objected to being bound to a wife he had not met or chosen. For two years his parents and the vizier urged him to agree. When he refused again before the assembled council, his father had him confined in an old tower, with books and a servant. One night, after his prayers and reading, the prince fell asleep beside a light.

Towards midnight the fairy Maimoune, daughter of Damriat, rose from a well beside an old tower, meaning to roam the upper world as curiosity led her. A light in the tower surprised her. She passed the servant asleep across the threshold, entered, and found a youth on the bed, his face half hidden. She lifted the coverlet a little and beheld the most beautiful young man she had ever seen. What a marvel he must be with his eyes open, she thought—and what could he have done to deserve this prison? She gazed until she had softly kissed his brow and cheeks, then replaced the coverlet and flew on.

In the middle air she met the rush of great wings: Danhasch, a bad genie, who knew her goodness gave her power over him. He would gladly have avoided her, but they were too near; he spoke meekly, asking her to swear by Allah to do him no harm, and promising the same. “Accursed genie,” she answered, “what harm can you do me?”—yet she granted the promise and asked what he had seen that night.

He came, he said, from the furthest end of China. The king there had one daughter, Badoura, so lovely that no words could paint her. The king had shielded her from common eyes and built her seven palaces—of rock crystal, bronze, steel, a rarer bronze, touchstone, silver, and solid gold—sumptuously furnished, with gardens of exquisite taste. Kings sent embassies for her hand. Her father would not force her; she declined each match, preferring her beautiful solitude. At last an embassy from a power so great that the king pressed her hard. She lost her temper, threatened the dagger rather than marriage, and was shut up with ten old women, her nurse at their head. Letters went out that she was insane; whoever cured her might wed her. Danhasch, he finished, went daily to gaze on her, and if Maimoune would only come she would own the sight worth the journey.

Maimoune laughed until she could speak. “You are raving about some unknown lady; if you saw the prince I have just left, whose beauty is transcendent, you would lose your head.”

“Who is he?”

“Know,” she said, “that he is in much the same case as your princess. His father would force him to marry; on his refusal he was imprisoned in the tower where I found him.” Danhasch doubted any mortal could match his princess.

“Hold your tongue,” cried Maimoune.

“Let me take you to see the princess,” said Danhasch. “There is no need,” answered Maimoune. “Bring your princess here, lay her beside my prince, and we will compare them at leisure.” He agreed, noted the tower, made a wager, and flew to China.

In an incredibly short time he returned with the sleeping Badoura. They placed her beside Camaralzaman. An animated dispute rose—each claiming victory. At last Maimoune refused to yield to an accursed genie and summoned an umpire. She struck the floor; it opened; Caschcasch rose with a curved back and a limp, six horns on his head and hands like claws. He threw himself at her feet. “Glance at that couch,” she ordered, “and say without partiality which is more beautiful.” Caschcasch gazed long in admiration and confessed he could not decide—unless they woke one after the other and judged which showed the greater admiration.

Maimoune became a gnat, settled on Camaralzaman’s throat, and stung him awake. His eyes fell on the Princess of China. He raised himself to look; youth and beauty woke a feeling his heart had never known. “What loveliness!” he exclaimed, kissing her forehead, eyes, and mouth—vainly, for the enchantment held her asleep. “Whoever you may be, Camaralzaman is not unworthy of you.” Perhaps, he thought, this was the bride his father had destined, placed here to test him. At all events he would take a remembrance: he drew off a fine ring from her finger and put his own in its place. Then Maimoune let him sleep again.

They woke Badoura. She started up, amazed at the young man beside her, then delighted at how handsome he was. “Why,” she cried, “was it you my father wished me to marry? How unlucky I did not know sooner!” She tried to wake him; he slept on. She kissed his cheek and soon fell asleep herself. Maimoune turned to Danhasch. “Are you satisfied my prince surpasses your princess? Another time believe me.” Caschcasch and Danhasch bore Badoura home; Maimoune returned to her well.

Morning found Camaralzaman alone. He looked for the lady, then questioned the servant, who swore no woman had entered. The prince lost patience, seized a rope, and threatened to lower him into the well until the frightened servant promised to tell everything. The servant begged leave to change his clothes—and ran straight to the palace, where the king sat anxious with his vizir. The servant cried that the prince had lost his senses: he declared a lady had slept on his couch, and how fiercely contradiction enraged him.

The vizir went to the tower and found the prince quietly reading. After greetings he said he was angry with the servant for alarming the king.

“What news?” asked the prince.

“Something absurd, surely.”

“Most likely—but where is the lady who slept here last night?” The vizir urged it must have been a dream; no one could pass the servant on the threshold. The prince insisted, seized the vizir’s beard, and loaded him with blows until the minister confessed there was some foundation—he was only carrying out orders—and begged leave to take any message to the king.

“Tell him I consent to marry the lady he sent last night,” said the prince.

The king, distressed, determined to clear the matter himself and, ordering the vizir to follow, set out for the tower. Camaralzaman received him with profound respect. The king sat beside him and asked several questions, which the prince answered with much good sense. At last he said, “My son, pray tell me about the lady who, it is said, was in your room last night.”

“Sire, do not increase my distress—make me happy by giving her to me in marriage. However much I objected to matrimony before, the sight of this lovely girl has overcome all my prejudices, and I will gratefully receive her from your hands.” The king was almost speechless, then solemnly assured him he knew nothing of the lady and had not connived at her appearance. He desired the whole story. Camaralzaman told it at length, showed the ring, and implored help to find his bride. “After all you tell me,” said the king, “I can no longer doubt your word; but how and whence she came, or why she stayed so short a time, I cannot imagine. Come—let us wait together for happier days.” He led his son back to the palace. Camaralzaman took to his bed and gave himself up to despair; the king shut himself up with him and entirely neglected the affairs of state. At last the prime minister, the only person admitted, told how much the court and people complained of the seclusion. He urged a move to a lovely little island close by, whence the king could still give public audiences twice a week, and where fine air might help the invalid bear his father’s occasional absence. The king approved; as soon as the island castle was ready, father and son removed there.

Meanwhile the two genii had carefully borne Badoura back to her palace and replaced her in bed. On waking she first turned from side to side, then, finding herself alone, called loudly for her women. “Tell me where is the young man I love so dearly, who slept near me last night?”

“Princess,” they said, “we cannot tell what you mean without more explanation.”

“Why, the most charming and beautiful young man lay sleeping beside me; I did my utmost to wake him, but in vain.”

“Your Royal Highness wishes to make game of us—is it your pleasure to rise?”

“I am quite in earnest, and I want to know where he is.”

“But we left you quite alone, and have seen no one enter since.” At this she lost patience, seized the nurse by the hair, and boxed her ears, crying that the old woman should tell or she would kill her. The nurse escaped with no little trouble and hurried tearfully to the queen.

“You see the princess must be out of her mind; come and judge for yourself.” The queen hurried to the apartments, embraced her daughter, and asked why the nurse had been so badly treated. “Madam,” said the princess, “I perceive you wish to make game of me, but I will never marry anyone except the charming young man I saw last night. You must know where he is—pray send for him.” When the queen declared she knew nothing, the princess lost all respect and answered that if she were not allowed to marry as she wished she should kill herself. It was in vain the queen tried to pacify her. The king himself came to hear the rights of the matter; she only persisted and as proof showed the ring on her finger. He hardly knew what to make of it, ended by thinking her more crazy than ever, and without further argument had her placed in still closer confinement, with only her nurse and a powerful guard at the door. Then he assembled his council, told them the sad state of things, and added, “If any of you can succeed in curing the princess, I will give her to him in marriage, and he shall be my heir.”

An elderly emir, dreaming of a young wife and a great kingdom, offered to try the magic arts he knew. “Try, and welcome,” said the king, “but on one condition: if you fail, you lose your head.” The emir agreed and was taken to the princess, who veiled her face. “I am surprised, sire,” she said, “that you bring a stranger into my presence.”

“There is no need to be shocked,” said the king. “This is one of my emirs, and he asks your hand.”

“Sire, this is not the one you gave me before, whose ring I wear. Forgive me, but I can accept no other.” The emir had expected to hear wild nonsense; finding her so calm and reasonable, he told the king he dared not attempt a cure and placed his head at his Majesty’s disposal, and the angry king had it cut off. He was the first of many suitors whose failure cost their lives.

Things went on like this for a long time, until the nurse’s son, Marzavan, came home from his travels. He had been to many countries and learned many things, among them how to read the stars. Badoura was his foster-sister, for they had been nursed by the same mother, and one of the first things his mother told him was how ill the princess was. He asked whether she could find a way for him to see Badoura without the king knowing. After some thought his mother agreed, and she even persuaded the guard at the door to let him pass.

The princess was overjoyed to see her foster-brother. She told him everything that had happened and why she was kept shut away. Marzavan listened with his eyes lowered, taking in every word. When she had finished he said, “If it is as you say, Princess, I do not give up hope of bringing you comfort. Be patient a little longer. I will set out at once for other lands, and when you hear that I have returned, you may be sure that the one you long for is close behind me.” The next morning he left.

Marzavan travelled from city to city and from island to island, and everywhere he heard people talking about the strange case of Princess Badoura. After four months he reached a busy seaport called Torf. There no one spoke of Badoura, but everyone was talking about Prince Camaralzaman, who was said to be ill, and whose story sounded very like hers. Marzavan was delighted and set off at once to find him.

His ship had a good voyage until it was in sight of King Shahzaman’s capital. Then, just as it was entering the harbour, it struck a rock and sank within view of the palace where the prince lay with his father and the grand vizier. Marzavan was a strong swimmer. He leapt into the sea and came ashore right below the palace, where he was kindly taken in, given dry clothes and brought to the grand vizier.

The vizier liked the young man at once. He could see that Marzavan was clever and had learned a great deal on his travels. “How I wish you knew some secret that could cure the illness that has filled this court with sorrow,” he sighed. Marzavan said that if he knew what the illness was, he might be able to suggest a remedy, so the vizier told him the whole story of Prince Camaralzaman. Marzavan was secretly overjoyed, because he was sure he had found the man Badoura loved, but he said nothing except to ask whether he might see the prince.

When he entered the royal bedroom, the prince was lying on his bed with his eyes shut, and the king sat beside him. Without paying any attention to the king, Marzavan cried out, “Heavens, what a likeness!” And it was true that Camaralzaman’s face looked very like the face of the Princess of China. At those words the prince opened his eyes with a little curiosity. Marzavan seized the moment to greet him, and as he did so he spoke of the Princess of China in words that meant nothing to the king and the vizier, but that told the prince his visitor had news for him.

The prince asked his father to leave him alone with Marzavan, and the king was only too happy to see his son take an interest in anything at all. When they were alone, Marzavan told him the whole story of Princess Badoura and how she was suffering. “I am certain that you alone can cure her,” he said. “But before you set out on such a long journey you must be well and strong again, so do all you can to recover quickly.” These words had a wonderful effect. The prince felt so much better that he said he could get up and dress at once.

The king was overjoyed and ordered celebrations for his son’s recovery, and before long the prince was completely well. As soon as he felt really strong, he took Marzavan aside. “Now it is time to keep your promise,” he said. “I am so impatient to see my princess that I shall fall ill again if we do not leave soon. The only problem is my father. As you have seen, he cannot bear to let me out of his sight.”

“I have thought about that already,” said Marzavan. “You have not been out of doors since I came. Ask the king to let you go hunting with me for two or three days, and when he agrees, have two good horses each made ready for us. Leave the rest to me.”

The next day the prince asked, and the king gladly agreed, as long as they spent only one night away, so that the prince would not tire himself after such a long illness. Early the following morning Camaralzaman and Marzavan rode off, with two grooms leading the spare horses. They hunted a little along the way, but they were careful to get as far from the towns as they could. At nightfall they came to an inn, where they ate and slept until midnight.

Then Marzavan woke the prince quietly, without disturbing anyone else. He asked for the coat the prince had been wearing and gave him another they had brought. They mounted the fresh horses, and Marzavan led one of the grooms’ horses by the bridle. By dawn they had reached a place in the middle of the forest where four roads met. There Marzavan asked the prince to wait. He led the spare horse deep into the trees and killed it, soaked the prince’s coat in its blood, and came back and threw the coat on the ground where the roads crossed.

When Camaralzaman asked why he had done this, Marzavan explained that their only chance of getting away was to make everyone believe the prince was dead. “Your father will be heartbroken,” he said, “but his joy when you come home will be all the greater.”

The two of them travelled on by land and sea. They had brought plenty of money, so nothing held them up, and at last they reached the capital of China. They rested at an inn for three days, and during that time Marzavan had an astrologer’s robe made for the prince. After a visit to the baths, the prince put on the robe, and Marzavan led him to within sight of the palace and left him there while he went to talk to his mother, the princess’s nurse.

Following Marzavan’s instructions, the prince walked right up to the palace gates and called out in a loud voice: “I am an astrologer, and I have come to make Princess Badoura, daughter of the great King of China, well again. I accept the king’s conditions: to marry her if I succeed, and to lose my life if I fail.”

It had been some time since anyone had dared to take that terrible risk, and a crowd quickly gathered. When the people saw how young and handsome and noble he looked, they were full of pity. “What are you thinking of, sir?” some of them cried. “Why throw your life away? Don’t the heads on the city wall warn you? For mercy’s sake, give up this mad idea while you still can.” But the prince stood firm and only called out again, more boldly than before. “He is set on dying,” the people said. “Heaven have pity on him!”

When he called out for the third time, the grand vizier himself came out and brought him in. The king was struck by the young man’s noble bearing and felt so sorry for him that he tried to talk him out of it. But Camaralzaman politely refused to change his mind, so at last the king told the guard of the princess’s rooms to take the astrologer to her.

The guard led him along long passages, making scornful remarks all the way about the newcomer’s chances, and Camaralzaman hurried after him, eager to reach the end. At last they came to a large hall outside the princess’s room. There Camaralzaman stopped. “Now you shall choose,” he said. “Shall I cure the princess in front of her, or shall I do it from here, without even seeing her?”

The guard was surprised. “If you really can cure her,” he said, “it does not matter where you do it. You will be just as famous either way.”

“Very well,” said the prince. “Then, impatient as I am to see her, I will cure her from right here, so that you can see what I can do.” He took out his writing case and wrote: “Beloved princess, Camaralzaman has never forgotten the moment he gave you his heart as he watched you sleeping. Since he could not speak to you then, he dared to give you his ring as a sign of his love and to take yours in return. He sends yours back to you in this letter. If you will send his ring back to him, he will be the happiest man alive. If not, he will gladly die for love of you. He is waiting for your answer outside your door.”

Without letting the guard see, he folded the ring inside the letter. “Take this to your mistress, my friend,” he said, “and if she is not cured the moment she reads it and sees what is inside, you may call me a shameless fraud.”

The guard went in and handed her the letter. “Madam,” he said, “a new astrologer has come who says you will be cured as soon as you read this.” The princess opened it without much interest. But the moment she saw her own ring she hardly glanced at the writing. She jumped up, reached the doorway in one bound and pulled aside the curtain. There she and the prince knew each other at once, and they ran into each other’s arms, hardly able to believe that they had found each other after so long.

The nurse, who had hurried after the princess, drew them back into the inner room, and there Badoura gave the prince her own ring back. “Take it back,” she said. “I could not keep it without giving you yours, and I mean to wear yours for the rest of my life.”

Meanwhile the guard ran to the king. “Sire,” he cried, “all the other doctors and astrologers were frauds. This one has cured the princess without even seeing her!” He told the king everything, and the king, overjoyed, hurried to his daughter’s rooms. He embraced her and put her hand in the prince’s. “Happy stranger,” he said, “I keep my promise. I give you my daughter as your wife, whoever you may be. But unless I am much mistaken, you are more than you seem.”

The prince thanked him warmly. “Your Majesty has guessed rightly,” he said. “I am not an astrologer. That was only a disguise, so that I might earn the honour of marrying your daughter. I am a prince. My name is Camaralzaman, and my father is Shahzaman, King of the Islands of the Children of Khaledan.” Then he told the whole story, including the strange way he had first seen and loved Princess Badoura. When he had finished, the king said, “A story as wonderful as this must never be forgotten. It shall be written in the records of my kingdom and told far and wide.”

The wedding was held the next day with great splendour. Marzavan was not forgotten. He was given a well-paid post at court, with the promise of more to come. The prince and princess were perfectly happy, and the months slipped by without their noticing.

But one night Camaralzaman dreamed that he saw his father dying and heard him say, “Alas, my son, whom I loved so dearly, has left me, and now he is the cause of my death.” The prince woke with such a groan that he frightened the princess, and when she asked what was wrong he cried, “Perhaps at this very moment my father is no longer alive!” and told her his dream.

Badoura said little then, but the next morning she went to her father and kissed his hand. “I have a favour to ask,” she said, “and please believe that my husband did not put me up to it. Will you let us both go to visit his father, King Shahzaman?” The king was sad at the thought of parting with her, but her request was so reasonable that he could not say no. His only condition was that she should spend no more than a year at King Shahzaman’s court, and he suggested that from then on the young couple should take turns visiting each of their parents. Badoura took the good news to her husband, who thanked her lovingly for this new proof of her kindness.

The preparations were hurried on, and when all was ready the king rode with them for several days. Then he said a loving goodbye to his daughter, told the prince to take good care of her, and went home.

After a month the travellers reached a huge meadow dotted with groups of tall trees that gave pleasant shade. It was very hot, so Camaralzaman decided they should camp there. When the tents were up, the princess went into hers while the prince was still giving orders. She took off her jewelled belt, laid it beside her, sent her women away, lay down and fell asleep.

When the camp was settled, the prince came into the tent and sat down quietly beside her. His eye fell on the belt. He picked it up and was looking at its jewels when he noticed a small pouch sewn onto it, fastened with a loop. He felt something hard inside. Curious, he opened it and found a red cornelian stone carved with strange figures and letters. “This stone must be very precious,” he thought, “or my wife would not carry it so carefully.” And in fact it was a charm that the Queen of China had given her daughter, telling her that it would keep her happy as long as she carried it.

To see it better, the prince stepped to the open doorway of the tent. As he stood there with the stone lying in his open hand, a bird swooped down, snatched it in its beak and flew off. Think how upset the prince was to lose something his wife plainly treasured! The bird landed a short way off with the charm still in its beak. Camaralzaman crept toward it, hoping it would drop the stone, but each time he came near, the bird fluttered a little further away. Then it swallowed the stone and flew further than before.

He tried to hit it with a stone, but the harder he chased, the further it flew. It led him over hills and through valleys all day long, and when night came it settled at the very top of a tall tree, where it was safe. The prince was in despair. He wondered whether to go back to the camp, but he thought, “How will I find my way? Uphill or down? I would be lost in the dark, even if I had the strength to walk.” Hungry, thirsty and worn out, he lay down and slept at the foot of the tree.

The next morning he woke before the bird left its perch, and when it flew off he followed it again, with no more luck than before, stopping only to eat herbs and fruit he found on the way. For ten days it went on like this: all day he chased the bird, and every night he slept at the foot of the tree where it roosted. On the eleventh day they reached a large town. As soon as they came near its walls, the bird flew suddenly higher and higher until it vanished from sight, and Camaralzaman gave up all hope of ever getting back Princess Badoura’s charm.

Sad and discouraged, he walked into the town, which stood by the sea and had a fine harbour. He wandered the streets for a long time without knowing where to go. At last, near the shore, he found a garden gate standing open and went in. A kind old gardener working there looked up, saw from the prince’s clothes that he was a Muslim, and told him to come in quickly and shut the gate.

When Camaralzaman asked why, the gardener explained, “Because I can see you are a stranger and a Muslim like me, and people of our faith face persecution in this town. It is almost a miracle that brought you to my door, and I am glad you have found somewhere safe. But never mind thanking me. You are tired and hungry. Come in, eat and rest.”

He took the prince into his cottage and fed him, and then asked how he had come there. Camaralzaman told him everything and asked the quickest way to his father’s kingdom. “If I tried to go back to the princess,” he said, “how could I find her after eleven days? She may not even be alive.” At that dreadful thought he burst into tears.

The gardener told him that it was a whole year’s journey overland to any Muslim country, but that there was a much shorter way by sea to the Ebony Island, and from there the Islands of the Children of Khaledan were easy to reach. A ship sailed for the Ebony Island once a year. “If only you had come a few days sooner,” he said, “you could have gone at once. Now you will have to wait until next year. But if you would like to stay with me, my house, such as it is, is yours with all my heart.” The prince was glad of a place to stay and gratefully accepted. He spent his days working in the garden and his nights thinking of his dear wife.

Now let us see what had happened to Princess Badoura. When she woke, she was surprised to find that the prince was not beside her. She called her women and asked where he was. They said they had seen him go into the tent but had not seen him come out. Then she picked up her belt and saw that the little pouch was open and the charm was gone. She decided that her husband had taken it to look at and would soon bring it back.

She waited impatiently all day, wondering what was keeping him. When night came and he still had not returned, she was in despair, and she said some harsh things about the charm and whoever had made it. But for all her grief and worry, she kept her head, and she made a brave and very unusual decision.

Only she and her women knew that Camaralzaman had disappeared. Everyone else was asleep or resting in their tents. She was afraid that if the news got out, someone might betray them, so she told her women not to say a word. Then she put on a set of her husband’s clothes. As has been said, she looked very like him, and in his clothes she looked so much like the prince that when she gave the order the next morning to strike camp and travel on, nobody suspected anything. She had one of her women ride in her covered litter, while she herself rode on horseback, and off they went.

After a long journey by land and sea, the princess, still calling herself Prince Camaralzaman, reached the capital of the Ebony Island, whose king was named Armanos. As soon as the king heard that the son of his old friend and ally had arrived, he hurried down to meet him and brought him and all his followers to the palace, where they were royally entertained.

After three days the king, who had grown very fond of his guest, heard that he was planning to travel on. “Prince,” said King Armanos, “I am an old man, and I have no son to leave my kingdom to. Heaven has given me only a daughter, and she is so beautiful and so charming that I could give her only to a prince as noble and gifted as you. Instead of going home, stay here, marry my daughter and take my crown. I will know that I have a worthy heir, and I will gladly rest from the work of ruling.”

This put Badoura in a very difficult position. She could not admit that she had deceived him, and she did not dare refuse the marriage he had set his heart on, in case all his kindness turned to anger. After thinking it over, she decided to accept. She blushed, which the king took for modesty, and said, “Sire, I am so grateful for your good opinion and for this honour that, unworthy as I am, I dare not refuse. But I can accept only if you promise to help me with your advice.”

The wedding was fixed for the next day. Badoura told the officers of her household what had happened and assured them that Princess Badoura had agreed to the marriage. She also told her women and asked them to keep her secret. King Armanos, delighted that his plan had worked, called together his court and council, presented his heir to them, sat the new young king on the throne and had everyone swear loyalty.

That night the whole city celebrated, and the king’s daughter, Princess Haiatelnefous, was brought in great state to Badoura’s palace. Badoura had thought hard about this first meeting, and she had decided that the only thing to do was to trust the princess with the truth at once. As soon as they were alone she took Haiatelnefous by the hand. “Princess,” she said, “I have a secret to tell you, and I must throw myself on your mercy. I am not Prince Camaralzaman. I am a princess like you, and his wife. Please listen to my story, and I am sure you will forgive me for deceiving you when you hear what I have suffered.”

She told her whole story, and when she had finished, Haiatelnefous hugged her warmly and promised her friendship and help. The two princesses made their plans together. They agreed to keep up the pretence, and Badoura would go on playing the part of a man until there was news of the real Camaralzaman.

Meanwhile, in the gardener’s seaport town, the prince was still living in the gardener’s cottage. Early one morning the gardener said, “Today is a holiday. The people of this town not only stop work themselves, they forbid anyone else to work. So rest today while I visit some friends. The ship I told you about is due soon, and I will ask about a passage for you.” He put on his best clothes and went out.

The prince wandered into the garden, lost in thoughts of his wife. Suddenly he was startled by a great noise in a tree. He looked up and saw two large birds fighting so fiercely with beaks and claws that before long one fell dead, while the winner flew away. Almost at once two even bigger birds, which had been watching, flew down and landed, one at the dead bird’s head and the other at its feet. They stood there a while, sadly shaking their heads, and then they dug a grave with their claws and buried it.

When the grave was filled in, the two flew off, and soon they came back holding the killer, one by a wing and one by a leg, while it screamed and struggled in rage and terror. They held it tight, carried it to the grave, killed it, tore it open and flew away.

The prince had watched all this with great interest. He walked over to the spot, and near the dead bird he saw something red lying on the ground. He picked it up, and to his amazement it was Princess Badoura’s charm, which the bird had swallowed and which had caused him so much grief. His joy was too great to describe. He kissed the stone again and again, wrapped it up and tied it carefully around his arm. That night, for the first time since he had lost the princess, he slept well.

The next morning he was up at dawn and cheerfully asked what work he should do. The gardener told him to cut down an old fruit tree that had died. Camaralzaman took an axe and set to work. As he hacked at a root, the axe struck something hard. He cleared away the earth and found a large slab of bronze, and under it a flight of ten steps. He went down and found himself in a roomy cave where fifty big bronze jars stood with lids on them. He lifted the lids one after another, and every jar was full of gold dust. Delighted, he climbed out, put the slab back, finished cutting down the tree and waited for the gardener.

The gardener came back beaming. “My son,” he said, “rejoice and get ready to leave in three days. The ship is sailing, and I have arranged your passage with the captain.”

“You could not have brought me better news,” said Camaralzaman, “and I have good news for you too. Come and see the fortune that has come your way.” He took the old man to the cave, showed him the treasure, and said how glad he was that Heaven had rewarded such a good man after so many years of hardship.

“What do you mean?” said the gardener. “Do you think I would take this treasure? It is yours. I have dug this ground for eighty years and never found a thing. These riches are clearly meant for you, and a prince needs them far more than an old man like me, who is near his end and needs nothing. They have come just as you are going home, where you will use them well.” But the prince would not hear of it, and after a long argument they agreed to share the gold.

“My son,” said the gardener, “now we must make sure you can carry the gold away secretly, or you may lose it. There are no olives on the Ebony Island, and olives from here sell for a high price there. You know I have a good store of olives from this garden. Take fifty jars, fill each one halfway with gold dust and top it up with olives, and we will have them carried on board when you sail.” The prince took his advice and spent the rest of the day filling the jars. He was afraid the precious charm might slip off his arm and be lost again, so he put it in one of the jars and marked that jar so that he would know it.

When night came everything was ready, and the prince and the old man went to bed. Perhaps because he was so old, or because of the excitement of the day, the gardener slept very badly. He was worse the next day, and by the morning of the third day he was dangerously ill.

At dawn the ship’s captain and some of his sailors knocked at the garden gate and asked for the passenger. “I am he,” said Camaralzaman, opening the gate. “The gardener who booked my passage is ill and cannot see you, but please come in and take these jars of olives and my bag, and I will follow as soon as I have said goodbye to him.” The sailors took everything, and the captain told the prince not to be long, because the wind was fair and he wanted to sail at once.

As soon as they had gone, the prince went back to thank his old friend once more and say goodbye. But the old man was dying. He had just enough breath to whisper the words of his faith, and then he died. Camaralzaman could not leave him unburied. He dug a grave in the garden, wrapped the kind old man in a shroud and laid him to rest. Then he locked the gate, gave the key to the owner of the garden and hurried down to the harbour, only to learn that the ship had sailed long before, after waiting three hours for him.

The prince was in despair. Now he would have to spend another whole year in this strange, unfriendly place, and once again he had lost Princess Badoura’s charm and feared he would never see it again. There was nothing to do but rent the garden as the old man had done and go on living in the cottage. Because he could not look after the garden alone, he hired a boy to help him, and to keep the rest of the treasure safe he put the remaining gold dust into fifty more jars and filled them up with olives, ready to take with him next time.

While the prince was beginning his second year of hard work, the ship made a quick voyage and arrived safely at the Ebony Island. The palace of the new king, who was really Princess Badoura, looked out over the harbour, and she saw the ship sail in, decked with flags. She asked what ship it was, and was told it came every year from the Island of the Idol-Worshippers with rich goods. Badoura was always looking for any chance of news of her husband, so she went down to the harbour with some of her officers and arrived just as the captain came ashore.

She sent for him and asked him all about his country, his voyage, his passengers and his cargo. He told her that his passengers were all merchants bringing fine cloth, muslins, precious stones, musk, amber, spices, medicines, olives and many other things. When he mentioned olives, Badoura, who was very fond of them, said, “I will take all you have on board. Have them unloaded and we will agree a price at once. And tell the other merchants to show me their best goods before anyone else sees them.”

“Sire,” said the captain, “I have fifty very large jars of olives on board. They belong to a merchant who was left behind. We waited for him, but he took so long that I had to sail without him.”

“Never mind,” said Badoura. “Unload them anyway, and we will settle the price.” The captain sent his boat back to the ship, and it soon returned with the fifty jars. When she asked what they were worth, the captain said, “Sire, the merchant is very poor. A thousand silver pieces would be a fair price.” “Since he is so poor,” said Badoura, “I will have a thousand pieces of gold paid to you, and you must make sure he gets them.” She gave the order for payment and went back to the palace with the jars carried in front of her.

That evening she went to the rooms of Princess Haiatelnefous and had the fifty jars brought there. She opened one so that her friend could taste the olives, and tasted them herself. But when she poured some into a dish, she found them all dusted with gold. “What a strange thing!” she cried. She had the other jars opened, and in every one the olives were mixed with gold dust. And when, in one of the jars, she found her charm, she was so overcome that she fainted.

Haiatelnefous and her women hurried to help her, and as soon as she came round she covered the charm with kisses. When the servants had gone, she said to her friend, “You must have guessed, my dear, that it was seeing this charm that moved me so much. It was the cause of my parting from my husband, and now I am sure it will bring us together again.”

At daybreak Badoura sent for the captain and asked more about the merchant who owned the olives. The captain told her all he knew about where the young man lived, and how he had come to be left behind after booking his passage. “In that case,” said Badoura, “you must sail at once and fetch him. He owes me a debt, and he must be brought here without delay, or I will seize all your goods. I am having every warehouse that holds your cargo sealed with the royal seal, and they will not be opened until you bring me this man. Go and do as I say.”

The captain had no choice. He loaded supplies and sailed that same evening. After a fast voyage he came in sight of the Island of the Idol-Worshippers, and instead of entering the harbour, he anchored some way off. At night he rowed ashore in a small boat with six strong sailors and landed near Camaralzaman’s cottage.

The prince was lying awake, grieving over everything that had kept him from his wife, when he thought he heard a knock at the garden gate. He went to open it, and at once the captain and the sailors seized him. Without a word, they carried him to the boat and rowed him back to the ship, which set sail immediately.

Camaralzaman had said nothing until then, but now he asked the captain, whom he recognised, why he had been kidnapped. “Aren’t you in debt to the King of the Ebony Island?” asked the captain. “Me? I have never even heard of him, and I have never set foot in his kingdom!” said the prince. “Well, you must know better than I do,” said the captain. “You will see him soon enough. Until then, be patient.”

The voyage back went just as well. It was night when they reached the harbour, but the captain took his passenger straight to the palace and asked to see the king. The moment Badoura saw the prince she knew him, shabby clothes and all. She longed to throw her arms around him, but she held back, thinking it better for both of them that she keep up her part a little longer. She told one of her officers to look after him and treat him well. She had the seals taken off the warehouses, gave the captain a valuable diamond, and told him to keep the thousand gold pieces paid for the olives, because she would settle with the merchant herself. Then she went to her own rooms, told Haiatelnefous everything and asked for her help, which her friend gladly promised.

The next morning Badoura had the prince taken to the baths and dressed like a nobleman who governs a province. Then he was brought before the council, where everyone noticed how handsome and dignified he was. Badoura, delighted to see him looking like himself again, said to the lords, “My lords, here is a new member of this council, Camaralzaman, whom I came to know on my travels. I promise you he deserves all your respect.”

Camaralzaman was astonished to hear the king say they knew each other. He never suspected the king was a woman in disguise, and he was sure he had never seen this king before. But he accepted the praise modestly, bowed low and said, “Sire, I have no words to thank you for this great honour. I can only promise to do everything I can to deserve it.”

After the council he was taken to a splendid house that had been made ready for him, with a full staff of servants and stables full of horses. In his study his steward handed him a chest of gold for his expenses. He was more and more puzzled by his good luck, and he never guessed that the Princess of China was behind it.

A few days later Badoura made him grand treasurer, and he did the work so honestly and kindly that everyone admired him. He would have thought himself the happiest man alive if only he had not been parted from his wife, whom he never stopped mourning. He had no way of solving the mystery, because Badoura, to honour the old king, had taken his name and was known as King Armanos the Younger. Few people remembered what she had been called when she first arrived.

At last Badoura decided it was time to end the waiting for both of them. She made her plans with Haiatelnefous, and then she told Camaralzaman that she wanted his advice on an important matter and asked him to come to the palace that evening so that they would not be disturbed. The prince came on time. When the servants had left, Badoura took the charm out of a little box and handed it to him. “Not long ago an astrologer gave me this,” she said. “You know about so many things. Perhaps you can tell me what it is for.”

Camaralzaman held it up to the light and cried out in surprise. “Sire, you ask what this charm is for? Until now it has brought me nothing but misfortune. It parted me from the person I love most in the world. The story is so sad and so strange that I am sure it will move you, if you will let me tell it.”

“I will hear it another time,” said Badoura. “I think I may know a little of it already. Wait here. I will be back soon.” She went into another room, quickly changed out of the king’s clothes into her own, put on the belt she had been wearing the day they were parted, and came back. The prince knew her at once and took her in his arms. “How can I ever thank the king for such a wonderful surprise?” he cried.

“You will never see the king again,” said Badoura, wiping away tears of joy. “I am the king. Let us sit down and I will tell you everything.” She told him all her adventures since they had been parted, and spoke warmly of the goodness of Princess Haiatelnefous, who had helped her so much. Then she asked to hear his story, and they spent most of the night talking.

The next morning Badoura dressed again as a woman and sent a message asking old King Armanos to come to her rooms. The king was astonished to find a lady he did not know there, together with the grand treasurer, who had no right to be in those private rooms. He sat down and asked where the young king was.

“Sire,” said Badoura, “yesterday I was the king. Today I am only the Princess of China, wife of the real Prince Camaralzaman, son of King Shahzaman. I hope that when you have heard our story you will forgive the harmless trick I was forced to play.” The king listened in amazement. When she had finished, she said, “Sire, our law allows a man more than one wife. I ask you to give your daughter, Princess Haiatelnefous, to Prince Camaralzaman in marriage. I gladly give her the first place and the title of queen, because I owe her so much.”

King Armanos listened with surprise and admiration. Then he turned to Camaralzaman. “My son,” he said, “since your wife, Princess Badoura, whom until now I believed to be my son-in-law, is willing to share your hand with my daughter, I need only ask whether this marriage pleases you, and whether you will accept the crown, which Badoura deserves to wear all her life but gives up out of love for you.”

“Sire,” said Camaralzaman, “I can refuse you nothing.” So Camaralzaman was proclaimed king and married Princess Haiatelnefous with great ceremony. The two queens lived together like true sisters, and in time each of them had a son, and the whole kingdom celebrated their births with great rejoicing.

Where this story comes from

Andrew Lang included the long tale of Camaralzaman and Badoura in The Arabian Nights Entertainments (1898). Its translators worked from Antoine Galland’s French, an influential early European publication of the Nights; Lang’s preface says Galland left out the poetry and that the stories were cut here and there. This is the publication route followed here; the story’s distant kingdoms do not establish a single national origin.

The prince’s home is on an island kingdom and the princess lives in China. This adaptation follows the main sequence of Lang’s telling: the night the fairy and the genie bring the two together, Marzavan’s search, the letter with the ring, the lost charm, Badoura’s rule of the Ebony Island in her husband’s clothes, and their reunion. Lang’s selected telling ends with Camaralzaman also marrying Princess Haiatelnefous, as Badoura herself asks; that ending is kept. A horse is killed to stage the prince’s death, failed suitors are executed, and the royal children threaten and assault attendants who cannot explain the enchanted meeting. The source’s name “Island of the Idol-Worshippers” is a label within this imagined geography, not a neutral description of a real population. The events are not made suitable for children by their brief narration.

Read the original: Andrew Lang, The Arabian Nights Entertainments (Project Gutenberg #128, The Story of Prince Camaralzaman and the Princess of China)

For older readers: includes forced-marriage pressure, suicide threats, executions, violence against attendants, an animal killed to fake a death, abduction and marriage arrangements without every participant’s expressed choice.

Objects travel where explanations cannot

The rings show that the night’s encounter was not simply imagined, but the two parents respond differently to that evidence. Camaralzaman’s father begins to believe him; Badoura’s father tightens her confinement. Marzavan succeeds by listening and connecting two accounts across distance. Calling the reunion a “cure” belongs to the characters’ misunderstanding, not to a medical explanation of distress.

The charm changes from a promised protection into the cause of separation, then into evidence that reunites the couple. Its path through a bird, a garden and an olive jar links people who have no way to send each other a direct message. The gardener’s care matters just as much as the miraculous object: Camaralzaman misses the ship because he will not leave his friend unburied.

Badoura governs successfully with Haiatelnefous’s help, but she also threatens the captain’s livelihood to have her husband brought back. The resulting abduction repeats the story’s habit of controlling people for an intended happy outcome. Haiatelnefous willingly helps preserve Badoura’s secret; the final marriage negotiation does not separately give her a spoken choice. Readers can recognise the friendship while questioning that omission.

Trace evidence and its cost

Draw the journeys of one ring and the charm, marking who holds each object and who knows its meaning. Beside the reunion scenes, note who has been frightened, injured or deceived along the way. Which kindnesses could the lovers have accepted without using threats against someone else?

Talk about it

• Why did Maimoune and Danhasch bring the prince and princess together?
• Camaralzaman exchanges the rings while Badoura sleeps. What do they later prove, and why do the two fathers respond differently to that evidence?
• Both kings think their child has gone mad. If you were the king, how would you have tried to find out the truth?
• Badoura dresses as her husband and even becomes a king. Why do you think she trusted Princess Haiatelnefous with her secret?

Related stories

• The Enchanted Horse — an Arabian Nights prince who lands by magic in a princess’s palace
• Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp — an Arabian Nights tale where a genie’s power changes a young man’s life
• The Fisherman and the Genie — an Arabian Nights fisherman who outwits a dangerous genie from a jar