The Oppressor Will Be Punished (Tun. Stories No. 18)

Once there was a sultan who had never had any children. Because of this, his life was becoming unbearable and he was always worrying about who his successor would be. He was so consumed by it every moment of the day that he lost interest in food and sleep until finally he thought, “Why don’t I marry another woman?” Now, he knew that he wouldn’t part with his wife, whom he loved, whom he had known his entire life, the daughter of his father’s sister. Divorce was out of question. He thought about it and finally made up his mind.
“I want you to find me a woman to marry,” he said to the courtier. “But do it discretely, I want no one to hear about it. Find me a modest girl, one who is even-tempered and reasonably attractive. But I don’t want her to know about me at all.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The courtier then went to the daughter of his childhood wet nurse. She had been married once and her husband had left her a girl. She would sometimes bring this girl to the courtier’s house for a few days at a time. The girl was pretty and intelligent. And as they say: “Prettiness comes first, intelligence comes next.”
“I have found you a husband for your girl,” said the courtier. “Will you give her hand in marriage?”
“I leave her in your charge, brother! Do as you wish.”
Thereafter, the marriage contract was made. The sultan would go to her each night, always disguised, saying he was constantly busy and couldn’t come home during the day. No one knew about this arrangement except the courtier. As for his new bride and her mother, they only knew his name.
His new bride conceived and when the final month of her pregnancy came, she gave birth to a baby boy. They raised him together. He went from crawling, to toddling, to walking, until he grew older and they took him to the Quranic school.
It is said: “No matter what you do, sisters-in-law will never get along.” The sultan’s first wife, knowing nothing about the second and feeling no pressure whatsoever, also got pregnant with a baby boy. All the people were overjoyed, elated at this news and the whole town was decorated.
The boy grew up, but was raised by royalty. Everyone obeyed him and did whatever he said, as he was the one who gave commands. He spent all his young age in luxurious places, going on trips and hunting.
Meanwhile, the other boy was attending the Quranic school, learning, and being educated. This, not to mention his respectfulness, politeness and good manners. He continued to grow up and reached seventeen years old or so.
“Where is this all headed anyway?” said the sultan. “This is my son and so is the other. This one is the elder and he deserves the throne, especially since he’s well-mannered, unlike the other who has turned out to be arrogant, despising people, and only caring about his fun. Am I going to let my people be disgraced? No one will be my successor except my elder son. But no one knows he exists now, who is going to recognise him the day I pass away?”
Later, the sultan became ill. What if he died and his elder son inherited nothing and didn’t even know that he was the sultan’s son? So, as soon as he recovered, he immediately commanded, “Bring me a carriage.”
The courtier was at his side and the soldiers were at the front and at the rear. The carriage passed through the whole town and the people wondered, “Where is the sultan going?”
Finally, he commanded his driver, “Turn here.”
The carriage went down a dead-end road and reached a house.
“Stop here,” he said. He descended, along with the courtier, opened the door of the house and went in.
“What?” exclaimed the woman in shock. “What is this?”
“I’m your husband and I’m also the sultan.”
Meanwhile, the boy approached the house, he saw the carriage, the soldiers and the door standing open. He entered the house and found the sultan sitting on a chair in the hall. He stood there shocked.
“This is your father,” said his mother. (It’s not necessary to recount everything said between them.)
Another carriage arrived soon after and brought the woman, her son and her mother to another of the sultan’s palaces, where he housed them. The word spread through the town and everybody celebrated it as soon as they heard about it. As for the boy, he spent all day in the palace with his father, attending the court every day and checking in on each department. He was learning everything, until the day the sultan got sick and called for him.
“Listen,” he said. “You will be the successor to the throne after I pass away. I am entrusting your brother to you. He’s young and still inexperienced and irresponsible. More than anything, I want you to take care of him, so that I can rest assured that both of you will be safe after I am gone.”
Up until the day he died, he kept saying, “Your brother. Take care of your brother.”
But, as has always been the case, a stepson is never wanted. It is said, “Your stepbrother is never really your brother, as he’s the son of the enemy whom your father brought.”
The sultan died and his elder son was crowned. This latter then took his place and became the sultan. He had been taking care of his little brother and keeping an eye on him. He was even more affectionate than a mother would be. However, the little brother loathed him. This was especially so since there were malicious people around him, inciting him against his older brother, saying, “He took your place and nobody even knows where your father brought him from.” All this talk created even more bitterness in his heart, but he didn’t let it out it, as he was waiting for just the right moment.
One day, the sultan went out hunting, bringing along his entourage and the courtier. Since he couldn’t leave his brother, whom his father had entrusted to him, or separate from him, he brought him along as well and they rode side by side. A deer popped up in front of them and the little brother ran after it losing control of his horse until he dropped out of sight. The sultan, who was worried about his brother, could stand it no longer and he ran after him, followed by the courtier.
As for the boy, he had ridden far away, the deer having vanished. He came upon an old, broken down well, where he sat until he saw his brother approaching with the courtier. He pretended to have fainted. His brother arrived.
“Brother, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Are you okay?”
He gestured that he was thirsty, and his eyes were fading as if he were dying.
“What should we do? What should we do?”
The boy pointed and said, “Go down and bring me some water.”
“I’ll climb down.” answered the brother.
“How can you climb down, sir?” asked the courtier. “I’ll do it myself.”
“You’re an elderly man and can’t climb down. I’ll do it.”
He tied his and the courtier’s turbans together and descended down the well. As soon as he reached the bottom of the well, his little brother stood up, clearly no longer faint. He pulled out his knife and cut the rope. He warned the courtier, “If you say a word, I’ll cut off your head.” They got on their horses and returned back to the hunting party. “My brother was eaten by a lion.” he said. “We couldn’t save him. We found nothing left of him except his blood on the ground. Let’s go back to the palace.” They went back and everyone believed it to be real.
The night fell and the courtier went back home.
“Prepare me a dinner,” he commanded.
He had the dinner packed, then he went out, heading to the well with his butler.
“Sir!” he called into the well.
“Yes,” answered the sultan.
“Do you see what your brother did, sir?”
“I see.”
“He’s been saying, ‘My brother was eaten by a lion and has died.’ Then he took your place.”
“Oh well.”
“I’m bringing you dinner; I’m going to say I’ve fallen ill and I’ll never go out again. I no longer want to be a courtier for a murderer. I’ll keep sending you food with the butler until things clear up.” They bid him adieu and departed. The butler kept bringing the bundled food every day to his master, until he could take it no longer.
“What kind of a brutal life is this? Am I going to be stuck forever in the bottom of a well? Wouldn’t it be better to die? If only they would send me poisoned food, I’d be rid of this life.”
But who would do this? His mother? His mother would never accept. So, he wrote a letter to the servant who was his wet-nurse, saying, “Would you do a favour to your son, to release me from the torture I’m living in? You know how much I love tagine. Make me a good tagine like you usually do and add some poison. Don’t tell anyone, and please don’t let me, your son, remain in affliction and misery. I would rather die.”
The servant read the letter saying, “I will never do this!”
But each day, when the butler brought him food, he said to him: “Remind her of the favour I requested.”
The first day passed, then the second and the third until she accepted and did what he said. Though, had she been his real affectionate mother, she would never have done it.
On the same day, as the new sultan went out with his entourage, he saw the butler riding a horse and carrying a covered plate above his head.
“Stop there!” he said. “Where are you going?”
“I’m bringing dinner to the dead sultan,” he answered. “Our servant gives me dinner each day to take to the poor and needy of the town.”
“Get down,” he said. “Let me see.”
When he uncovered the plate, the mouthwatering smell of tagine came out.
“Take it back to the palace,” he said. “That man died days ago and they are still bringing him his dinner?”
It was neither lunchtime nor dinnertime but the tagine was still hot and the new sultan was afraid that it might get cold. So he quickly returned to the palace and went upstairs to the dining room where the plate was on the table. He sat, uncovered it, and started eating. As soon as he took the first bite, he fell over unconscious. Someone screamed. The courtier heard it and arrived quickly.
“I need someone to help me.”
Four men came carrying a ladder. The carriage arrived completely equipped, followed by the court entourage. They all headed to the well.
“Come up, sir!”
The sultan then came up, took back his reign and was crowned again.