The Tale of Ali Baba and the Forty
Thieves
Part 5
Catagory:Fiction
Author:Thousand Nights and One Night ( POWYS MATHERS)
Posted Date:04/10/2025
Posted By:utopia online
Mustafa laughed, as he replied: ‘As Allah lives we have no such custom! But I know what I
know and no one else shall know it. I have reason enough for keeping silence, and my memory is always bad in the early morning.’ The pretended darwish laughed heartily, in order to win the old man’s favour; making as if to shake hands, he slipped a gold coin into the other’s palm, saying: ‘O uncle of eloquence, Allah preserve me from poking my nose into other people’s business! But if I felt that I had a stranger’s right to express a wish to you, I think I would ask you to tell me the position of the house where you sewed the dead man together.’ ‘But how should I know the position of it, O head of all the darwishes?’ cried the cobbler. ‘I was blindfolded and led to the place by a girl, who went so quickly from one thing to another that half the time I did not know what I was doing. Yet I think, my son, that if my eyes were bandaged afresh I could find the house again by certain indications which came to me through the sense of touch. You must know, O holy brother, that a man sees as well with his fingers as with his eyes, unless his skin is as hard and gross as a crocodile’s back. I myself have many honourable customers who, though blind, see better with their finger tips than the vile barber who shaves my head each Friday and scarifies my poor old hide. May Allah do so to him and more also!’ At this point Shahrazad saw the approach of morning and discreetly
fell silent. But when the eight-hundred-and-fifty-seventh night had come SHE SAID: ‘Praise to the breast which gave you suck!’ exclaimed the robber. ‘Long may you thread needles in this world, O sheikh of excellence! I would like nothing better than to see if you can find your way back to that cellar.’ The man’s admiration was so obvious that old Mustafa allowed his eyes to be bandaged and, with his hand on the other’s sleeve, groped his way to Ali Baba’s house. ‘This is most certainly the place!’ he cried.
‘I recognise it by the smell of asses’ dung and by this post against which I stubbed my toes when I came before.’ The delighted robber removed the old man’s bandage and then hastened to mark the door of Ali Baba’s house with a small piece of chalk. He slipped a second dinar into the cobbler’s hand, promising that he would buy all his slippers from him for the rest of his life, and sent him back to his shop. Then he made all haste to the forest and told his chief of his success.When the diligent Marjanah went out soon afterwards to buy provisions, she saw the white mark on the door and thought: ‘This did not write itself. This is the work of an enemy and we must find some conjuration against it.’ She fetched a piece of chalk and made exactly the same mark on the same part of every door in the street, and, as she made each mark, she addressed the unknown foe, saying below her breath: ‘Five fingers in your left eye, five fingers in your right!’ For she knew that this was a most powerful spell against threats from the unknown.
Next morning, when the thieves came two by two into town to lay aboard the house which their companion had marked for them, they were greatly embarrassed to find all the doors in that long street bearing the same sign. In order not to attract attention, their chief sent them back to the forest, where they condemned their unfortunate spy to death and cut off his head without delay.Their rage against the unknown trespasser increased a hundredfold, and one of their number eagerly volunteered to run him to earth. He went disguised into the city, as his dead comrade had done, entered into conversation with the old cobbler, and was conducted to the door of Ali Baba’s house. He marked this with a small red mark in an inconspicuous place, and then returned to the cave. He did not know that
when a head is destined to make that fatal leap from the shoulders, it will make that leap and no other.
When the thieves came two by two into the town, they found that the excellent Marjanah had made identical small red marks on all the doors of the quarter. Therefore they returned to their lair and cut off the head of the second spy. Thus the band was reduced by two without nearer approach to the solution of its difficulty.‘I will have to go myself,’ said the robber captain, and he went down into the city in disguise. But when the cobbler Mustafa had shown him
Ali Baba’s door, he did not mark it in white or red chalk, or even blue; instead, he gazed long till he had fixed its appearance in his memory,and then returned to the forest. He called together the thirty-seven surviving thieves and said to them: ‘I know the house for certain now,and, as Allah lives, the fate of it shall be terrible. The first thing for you to do, my hearties, is to bring me thirtyeight large earthenware jars, with wide necks and swelling bellies. One of them must be filled with olive oil, the rest must be empty.’ The thieves, who always obeyed their chief
without question, rode off at once to the potter’s market and brought back thirty-eight jars, slung in twos upon their horses. Without unloading these, they took off all their clothes, at the chief’s order, and, keeping only their turbans and slippers, climbed into the empty jars, so that one was balanced by the olive oil, and the rest balanced each other. They slung their slippers on their backs and squatted down in the jars with their knees to their chins, like chickens of
the twentieth day curled in their shells. The captain armed each with a scimitar and a club, and plentifully daubed the outside of the pots with some of the oil from the full jar. Finally, after stoppering the mouths of each vessel with palm fibre so that the men inside should be hidden and yet breathe freely, he drove the horses down towards the city.
At nightfall he came to Ali Baba’s house, and Allah even saved him the trouble of knocking, for the honest woodcutter sat on his threshold, gratefully breathing the cool air of evening.
At this point Shahrazad saw the approach of morning and discreetly fell silent. But when the eight-hundred-and-fifty-eighth night had come SHE SAID: The robber chief checked his horses and greeted Ali Baba most politely, saying: ‘O my master, your slave is an oil merchant; he is ignorant of this city and does not know where to pass the night. He hopes that you will give hospitality, for himself and his horses, in the generous courtyard of your house.’
Ali Baba remembered his own poverty and at once rose in the stranger’s honour, answering: ‘O oil merchant, O my brother, be very welcome to my house and the repose of my house and the life of my house.’ He took his guest by the hand and led him into the courtyard, calling Marjanah and another slave to help with the unloading of the jars and to feed the horses. When the jars had been ranged in good order at the back of the courtyard and the horses fastened along the wall, each with a feed of barley and oats, Ali Baba conducted his guest, whom he
was very far from recognising, into the reception hall of his house.Bidding him take the place of honour, he sat down beside him and served him with food and drink; but, as soon as both were satisfied and had given thanks to Allah, the courteous woodcutter retired, saying:‘Good master, the house belongs to you.’ As he was going away, the robber chief called after him: ‘In Allah’s name, dear host, show me that part of your honourable house where it is
lawful for me to give peace to the motion of my bowels and make my water.’ Ali Baba led his guest to the privy, which stood at the corner of the house nearest the old jars. ‘In there,’ he said, and hastened away, so as not to incommode the digestive functions of the stranger.
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