The Story of the Three Calenders, Sons of Kings, and of Five Ladies of Bagdad

In the reign of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid, there lived at Bagdad a porter who, despite his humble job, was an intelligent and sensible man.

One morning he was sitting in his usual spot with his basket before him, waiting to be hired, when a tall young lady, covered with a long muslin veil, came up to him and said, "Pick up your basket and follow me." The porter, greatly pleased by her appearance and voice, jumped up at once, balanced his basket on his head, and followed the lady, saying to himself, "Oh, happy day! Oh, lucky meeting!"

The lady soon stopped before a closed door, at which she knocked. It was opened by an old man with a long white beard, to whom the lady held out money without speaking. The old man, who seemed to understand what she wanted, vanished into the house and returned carrying a large jar of wine, which the porter placed in his basket. Then the lady motioned for him to follow, and they went on their way.

The next place she stopped was a fruit and flower shop, where she bought a large quantity of apples, apricots, peaches, and other things, along with lilies, jasmine, and all sorts of sweet-smelling plants. From this shop she went to a butcher's, a grocer's, and a poulterer's, until the porter exclaimed in despair, "My good lady, if you had only told me you were going to buy enough provisions to stock a town, I would have brought a horse, or rather a camel." The lady laughed and told him she had not finished yet. After choosing various scents and spices from a druggist's store, she halted before a magnificent palace, at the door of which she knocked gently. The porteress who opened it was so beautiful that the man's eyes were quite dazzled, and he was even more astonished as he saw clearly that she was no slave. The lady who had led him stood watching him with amusement, until the porteress exclaimed, "Why don't you come in, my sister?

This poor man is so heavily weighed down that he is ready to drop."

Once they were inside, the door was fastened, and they all three entered a large courtyard surrounded by an open-work gallery. At one end of the courtyard was a platform, and on the platform stood an amber throne supported by four ebony columns, garnished with pearls and diamonds. In the middle of the courtyard stood a marble basin filled with water from the mouth of a golden lion.

The porter looked around, noticing and admiring everything, but his attention was especially drawn to a third lady sitting on the throne, who was even more beautiful than the other two. By the respect shown to her, he judged she must be the eldest, and he was right. This lady's name was Zobeida, the porteress was Sadie, and the housekeeper was Amina. At a word from Zobeida, Sadie and Amina took the basket from the porter, who was glad to be relieved of its weight. When it was emptied, they paid him handsomely. But instead of taking his basket and leaving, the man lingered until Zobeida asked what he was waiting for and if he expected more money. "Oh, madam," he replied, "you have already given me too much, and I fear I may have been rude in not taking my leave at once. But if you will pardon my saying so, I was lost in astonishment at seeing such beautiful ladies by themselves.

A company of women without men is as dull as a company of men without women." After telling some stories to prove his point, he ended by begging them to let him stay and make a fourth at their dinner.

The ladies were amused by the man's assurances and, after some discussion, agreed to let him stay, as his company might be entertaining. "But listen, friend," said Zobeida, "if we grant your request, it is only on condition that you behave with the utmost politeness and that you keep the secret of our way of living, which chance has revealed to you." Then they all sat down to the table that Amina had covered with the dishes she had bought.

After the first few bites, Amina poured some wine into a golden cup. She drank first herself, according to Arab custom, and then filled it for her sisters. When it came to the porter's turn, he kissed Amina's hand and sang a song he composed on the spot in praise of wine. The three ladies were pleased with the song and then sang themselves, so the meal was merry and lasted longer than usual.

At length, seeing the sun was about to set, Sadie said to the porter, "Rise and go; it is now time for us to separate."

"Oh, madam," he replied, "how can you wish me to leave you in the state I am in? Between the wine I have drunk and the pleasure of seeing you, I would never find my way home. Let me stay until morning, and when I have recovered my senses, I will go when you wish."

"Let him stay," said Amina, who had shown herself his friend before. "It is only fair, since he has given us so much amusement."

"If you wish it, my sister," replied Zobeida, "but if he does, I must make a new condition. Porter," she continued, turning to him, "if you stay, you must promise to ask no questions about anything you may see. If you do, you may perhaps hear what you don't like."

This settled, Amina brought in supper and lit the hall with sweet-smelling tapers. Then they sat down again at the table and began with fresh appetites to eat, drink, sing, and recite verses. They were enjoying themselves greatly when they heard a knock at the outer door. Sadie rose to open it and soon returned saying that three Calenders, all blind in the right eye and all with their heads, faces, and eyebrows clean-shaven, begged for admittance, as they were newly arrived in Bagdad and night had already fallen. "They seem to have pleasant manners," she added, "but you have no idea how funny they look. I am sure we would find their company diverting."

Zobeida and Amina hesitated about admitting the newcomers, and Sadie knew the reason for their hesitation. But she urged the matter so strongly that Zobeida finally agreed. "Bring them in, then," she said, "but make them understand that they are not to make remarks about what does not concern them, and be sure to make them read the inscription over the door." For on the door was written in letters of gold, "Whoso meddles in affairs that are no business of his, will hear truths that will not please him."

The three Calenders bowed low on entering and thanked the ladies for their kindness and hospitality. The ladies replied with words of welcome, and they were about to sit down when the Calenders' eyes fell on the porter, whose dress was not so different from their own, though he still had all the hair nature gave him. "This," said one of them, "is apparently one of our Arab brothers who has rebelled against our ruler."

The porter, though half asleep from the wine he had drunk, heard these words and without moving cried angrily to the Calender, "Sit down and mind your own business. Did you not read the inscription over the door? Everyone is not obliged to live the same way."

"Do not be so angry, my good man," replied the Calender; "we would be very sorry to displease you." So the quarrel was smoothed over, and supper began in earnest. When the Calenders had satisfied their hunger, they offered to play music for their hostesses if there were any instruments in the house. The ladies were delighted, and Sadie went to see what she could find, returning loaded with two different flutes and a tambourine. Each Calender took the one he preferred and began to play a well-known tune, while the ladies sang the words of the song. The words were as lively as possible, and every now and then the singers had to stop to laugh. In the midst of all the noise, a knock was heard at the door.

Now earlier that evening, the Caliph secretly left the palace, accompanied by his grand vizir, Giafar, and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, all three dressed as merchants. Passing down the street, the Caliph was attracted by the music and laughter and ordered his vizir to knock at the door, as he wished to enter. The vizir replied that the ladies who lived there seemed to be entertaining friends and that his master would do well not to intrude, but the Caliph insisted.

The knock was answered by Sadie, with a taper in her hand. The vizir, surprised by her beauty, bowed low and said respectfully, "Madam, we are three merchants who have lately arrived from Moussoul. Due to a misadventure tonight, we reached our inn only to find the doors closed until morning. Not knowing what to do, we wandered the streets until we happened to pass your house. Seeing lights and hearing voices, we resolved to ask you to give us shelter until dawn. If you grant us this favor, we will do all we can to help you spend the time pleasantly."

Sadie answered that she must first consult her sisters. After discussing the matter, she returned to say that he and his two friends would be welcome to join them. They entered and bowed politely to the ladies and their guests. Then Zobeida, as the mistress, came forward and said gravely, "You are welcome here, but I hope you will allow me to ask one thing: have as many eyes as you like, but no tongues; and ask no questions about anything you see, however strange it may appear."

"Madam," returned the vizir, "you shall be obeyed. We have enough to please and interest us without troubling ourselves about what does not concern us." Then they all sat down and drank to the health of the newcomers.

While the vizir was talking to the ladies, the Caliph wondered who they could be and why the three Calenders had each lost his right eye. He burned to inquire, but was silenced by Zobeida's request, so he tried to join in the conversation, which was very lively, the topic being the many pleasures in the world. After some time, the Calenders got up and performed some curious dances, delighting the rest.

When they finished, Zobeida rose from her seat and, taking Amina by the hand, said, "My sister, our friends will excuse us if we seem to forget their presence and fulfill our nightly task." Amina understood and collected the dishes, glasses, and musical instruments, carrying them away, while Sadie swept the hall and put everything in order. Then she asked the Calenders to sit on a sofa on one side, and the Caliph and his friends opposite. As for the porter, she asked him to come and help her and her sister.

Shortly after, Amina entered carrying a seat, which she placed in the middle of the empty space. She then went to the door of a closet and motioned for the porter to follow. He did so and soon reappeared leading two black dogs by a chain, which he brought into the center of the hall. Zobeida then got up from her seat between the Calenders and the Caliph and walked slowly to where the porter stood with the dogs. "We must do our duty," she said with a deep sigh, pushing back her sleeves. Taking a whip from Sadie, she said to the man, "Take one of those dogs to my sister Amina and give me the other."

The porter did as he was told, but as he led the dog to Zobeida, it uttered piercing howls and gazed up at her with pleading eyes. But Zobeida took no notice and whipped the dog until she was out of breath. Then she took the chain from the porter and, raising the dog on its hind legs, they looked into each other's eyes sorrowfully until tears began to fall from both. Then Zobeida took her handkerchief and wiped the dog's eyes tenderly, after which she kissed it. Then, putting the chain back into the porter's hand, she said, "Take it back to the closet and bring me the other."

The same ceremony was gone through with the second dog, and all the while the whole company looked on with astonishment. The Caliph in particular could hardly contain himself and made signs to the vizir to ask what it all meant. But the vizir pretended not to see and turned his head away.

Zobeida remained in the middle of the room for some time, until Sadie went up to her and begged her to sit down, as she also had her part to play. At these words, Amina fetched a lute from a case of yellow satin and gave it to Sadie, who sang several songs to its accompaniment. When she grew tired, she said to Amina, "My sister, I can do no more; come, I pray you, and take my place."

Amina struck a few chords and then broke into a song, which she sang with such passion that she became quite overcome and sank gasping onto a pile of cushions, tearing open her dress as she did so to get some air. To the amazement of all, her neck, instead of being smooth and white like her face, was covered with scars.

The Calenders and the Caliph looked at each other and whispered together, unheard by Zobeida and Sadie, who were tending their fainting sister.

"What does it all mean?" asked the Caliph.

"We know no more than you," said the Calender he had spoken to.

"What! You do not belong to the house?"

"My lord," answered all the Calenders together, "we came here for the first time an hour before you."

They then turned to the porter to see if he could explain, but the porter was no wiser than they. At last, the Caliph could contain his curiosity no longer and declared he would compel the ladies to tell them the meaning of their strange conduct. The vizir, foreseeing what would happen, begged him to remember the condition their hostesses had imposed and added in a whisper that if his Highness would only wait until morning, he could, as Caliph, summon the ladies to appear before him. But the Caliph, not accustomed to being contradicted, rejected this advice, and after a little more talk, it was decided that the porter should ask the question. Suddenly Zobeida turned around and, seeing their excitement, said, "What is the matter? What are you all discussing so earnestly?"

"Madam," answered the porter, "these gentlemen beg you to explain why you first whip the dogs and then cry over them, and how it happens that the fainting lady is covered with scars. They have asked me, Madam, to be their mouthpiece."

"Is it true, gentlemen," asked Zobeida, drawing herself up, "that you have charged this man to ask me that question?"

"It is," they all replied, except Giafar, who was silent.

"Is this," continued Zobeida, growing angrier by the moment, "is this the return for the hospitality I have shown you? Have you forgotten the one condition on which you were allowed to enter the house? Come quickly," she added, clapping her hands three times. Hardly had she spoken when seven black slaves, each armed with a sabre, burst in and stood over the seven men, throwing them to the ground and preparing, on a sign from their mistress, to cut off their heads.

The seven culprits thought their last hour had come, and the Caliph bitterly regretted not following the vizir's advice. But they resolved to die bravely, all except the porter, who loudly asked Zobeida why he should suffer for others' faults and declared these misfortunes would never have happened if not for the Calenders, who always brought bad luck. He ended by begging Zobeida not to confuse the innocent with the guilty and to spare his life.

Despite her anger, there was something so comic in the porter's groans that Zobeida could not help laughing. But setting him aside, she addressed the others a second time, saying, "Answer me: who are you? Unless you tell me truly, you have not another moment to live. I can hardly think you are men of any position, whatever country you come from. If you were, you would have had more consideration for us."

The Caliph, naturally very impatient, suffered far more than the others at feeling his life was at the mercy of a justly offended lady, but when he heard her question, he began to breathe more freely, convinced that she had only to learn his name and rank for all danger to be over. He whispered hastily to the vizir, who was next to him, to reveal their secret. But the vizir, wiser than his master, wished to conceal the affront they had received from the public and merely answered, "After all, we have only gotten what we deserved."

Meanwhile, Zobeida turned to the three Calenders and asked if, as they were all blind, they were brothers.