Hodja Nasreddin helped the old man climb onto the camel.
“May Allah protect you, o sage! Just don’t forget that you will have to speak in a high voice to everyone, like a woman.”
The old man set off on the camel at a brisk trot. Hodja Nasreddin’s eyes were shining. The road to the palace was open!
Chapter 25
After making sure that the fight in the square was quieting down, the luminous emir decided to go to the courtiers in the grand hall. He composed a sorrowful but calm expression on his face, so that none of the courtiers would dare think that fear can penetrate the regal heart of the emir.
He walked out, and the courtiers froze, trembling at the thought that the emir might guess from their eyes and faces that they knew his true feelings.
The emir was silent, and the courtiers were silent; a menacing silence loomed.
Finally, the emir broke it:
“What will you say to us and how will you advise us? It is not the first time that we have asked you this!”
No one raised his head, no one replied. A fleeting thunderbolt flashed in the emir’s face. And no one knows how many heads, crowned with turbans and framed by gray beards, would have lain on the block that day, and how many flattering tongues, bitten all the way through in deathly throes, would have fallen silent forever, sticking out between blue lips, as if taunting the living and reminding them of the utter fragility of their well-being, of the futility and vanity of all their endeavors, troubles, and hopes!
But all the heads remained on their shoulders, and all the tongues remained ready to perform the deed of flattery, because the palace overseer entered the hall and announced:
“Praise to the center of the universe! An unknown man has arrived at the gates, calling himself Hussein Huslia, a sage from Baghdad. He declared that he is here on important business and must immediately appear before the radiant gaze of the sovereign.”
“Hussein Huslia!” the emir exclaimed, livening up. “Let him in! Summon him here!”
The sage did not walk, but ran inside, without even taking off his dusty shoes, and prostrated himself before the throne.
“Greetings to the great and glorious emir, the sun and the moon of the universe, its menace and its blessing! I rushed here night and day to warn the emir of a terrible danger. Let the emir say whether he visited a woman today. Let the emir answer his most worthless slave, I implore the sovereign!…”
“A woman?” the emir asked, confused. “Today? No… We were going to, but we did not yet do so.”
The sage rose. His face was pale. He had been waiting for this response in great agitation. A long, deep sigh unburdened his chest, and color began to return slowly to his cheeks.
“Praise the almighty Allah!” he exclaimed. “Allah did not permit the light of wisdom and mercy to be extinguished! Be it known to the great emir that, last night, the planets and the stars had arranged themselves quite unfavorably for him. And I, unworthy and deserving only to kiss the dust in the emir’s footsteps, studied and calculated the arrangement of the planets and found out that, until they enter a favorable and auspicious arrangement, the emir must not touch a woman, or else his doom is inevitable! Praise Allah that I got here in time!”
“Wait, Hussein Huslia,” the emir interrupted. “You are not making any sense…”
“Praise Allah that I got here in time!” the sage kept exclaiming (it was, of course, Hodja Nasreddin). “Now I will take pride until the end of my days that I prevented the emir from touching a woman and did not permit the universe to be orphaned.”
He spoke with such happiness and passion that the emir could not help but believe him:
“When I, a lowly gnat, was bathed in the rays of greatness emanating from the emir, who deigned to remember my unworthy name and commanded me to enter his service in Bukhara, I was immersed in a sweet sea of unprecedented joy. And, of course, I carried out this order without delay and departed immediately, spending only a few days to compile the emir’s horoscope, so that, during my journey, I could already serve him by tracking the motion of the planets and stars that can influence his fate. And then, last night, as I glanced at the sky, I saw that the stars were arranged in a most terrible and sinister fashion for the emir, namely: the star Al-Kalb, signifying a stinger, was standing opposite the star Al-Shual, which signifies the heart; moreover, I saw the three stars Al-Gafr, which signify the veil of a woman, two stars Al-Iklil, signifying the crown, and two stars Al-Sharatan, signifying horns. This was on Tuesday, the day of the planet Mars, and this day, contrary to Thursday, indicates the deaths of great men and is quite unfavorable for emirs. Juxtaposing all these signs, I, a lowly astrologer, understood that the stinger of death would threaten the heart of the one who wears the crown should he touch the veil of a woman, and in order to warn the wearer of the crown, I hurried night and day, drove two camels to death, and entered Bukhara on foot.”
“O almighty Allah!” spoke the shocked emir. “Were we really in such terrible danger? Perhaps you are simply mistaken, Hussein Huslia?”
“Mistaken?” the sage exclaimed. “Let it be known to the emir that I have no equal anywhere from Baghdad to Bukhara in wisdom, or in the ability to read stars or cure illnesses! I could not be mistaken. Let the master and the heart of the universe, the great emir, ask his sages whether I named the stars accurately and whether I interpreted their arrangement in the horoscope correctly.”
Obeying the emir’s sign, the sage with the crooked neck stepped forward:
“My incomparable partner in wisdom, Hussein Huslia, has named the stars correctly, proving his knowledge, which none may dare doubt. But,” the sage continued, and Hodja Nasreddin sensed guile in his voice, “why did the most wise Hussein Huslia not name to the great emir the sixteenth position of the moon and the constellations which correspond to this position? For without these designations, it would be baseless to claim that Tuesday – the day of the planet Mars – indicates the deaths of great men, including those who wear the crown, for the planet Mars has its house in one constellation, its ascendant in another, its descendant in a third, and its waning in a fourth, and as a result the planet Mars has four different indications rather than just one, as stated by the most esteemed and wise Hussein Huslia.”
The sage fell silent, a snakelike smile playing on his lips; the courtiers whispered approvingly, happy to see the newcomer disgraced. Protecting their income and high posts, they tried not to let any outsider into the palace and saw a dangerous opponent in any new man.
But when Hodja Nasreddin started something, he never gave up. Moreover, he could see right through the sage, and the courtiers, and the emir himself. Without a hint of embarrassment, he replied condescendingly:
“Perhaps my esteemed and wise partner exceeds me incomparably in some other sphere of knowledge, but when it comes to stars, his words reveal a complete lack of familiarity with the teachings of the wisest of all wise sages, Ibn-Badjj, who states that the planet Mars, which has its house in the constellations of Ram and Scorpio, its ascendant in the constellation of Capricorn, its descendant in the constellation of Cancer, and its waning in the constellation of Libra, nevertheless corresponds only to the day of Tuesday, where it exerts its influence, so harmful to those who wear the crown.”
As he replied, Hodja Nasreddin did not have the slightest fear that his ignorance would be exposed, for he knew that such arguments were always won by the one whose tongue was hung best, and, in this area, few compared to Hodja Nasreddin.