The Three Daughters of King El-Kalipha
There was once a great king of Arabia called El-Kalipha, who had three daughters. He wished to make peace with the king of the neighbouring kingdom, so offered that king’s son, Prince Mahmud, the hand of one of one of his daughters in marriage in order to cement the agreement. But it transpired that the Prince was such a man that would be extremely careful and thoughtful in the manner of choosing all things, and especially so in the choice of a wife, thus he asked through his ambassador that he might try each daughter in turn, and then so informed make a decision.
And so King El-Kalipha agreed, and sent the fair Aliza, his eldest daughter to him, lovelier and more nubile than any woman in all his kingdom and beyond as far as any man knew. She arrived at the palace of Prince Mahmud, and presented herself as his potential wife. She pulled aside her silken veil, and the place was illuminated and enlightened with her inordinate beauty: looking at her, she was such as would cure the malady of the sick, and extinguish the fire of the thirsty, and would inspire poets to compose rhymes about her loveliness that would be heard a thousand years hence. Mahmud looked at her, and was pleased, as well he should be, to get such a beautiful wife, something that was to be more than proud of.
Alas, things were not as they seemed: Aliza was a talkative girl, wishing to know anything and everything, all about court rituals and suchlike, all the routine things that the King and Mahmud would do every day. When Mahmud commented on her curiosity, she replied, ‘my lord, I must know these things, in order to better serve you as a wife.’ He didn’t even guess that the one person she really wanted to serve was herself: this came to light one day when she asked the wrong question of one of the King’s generals, whom she tried to persuade to become King in place of the current incumbent, an obvious absurdity. He considered for a time, and then went to his master the King and told him of her plot.
That evening she went to an apothecary in order to buy poison, but he had been forewarned who the intended victims were: he had been bought off easily and supplied her with a harmless liquid to be added to food or drink, it appeared to her a deadly poison, but in reality was just a vial of coloured fluid. They allowed her to go through the pantomime of adding it to the King’s and Prince Mahmud’s food that evening, then they both pretended to go into a deep sleep.
Soon after Aliza sat in the throne room, and announced that both King and Prince were dead, and she was taking over the reins of government herself with the aforementioned general as her consort: there was some confusion as he was brought out, dressed in a cloak that hid his face. Impatiently she ordered that it be removed, and so it was: it was revealed that he was Prince Mahmud, smiling at the trick that had been played on the schemer Aliza. She gagged in astonishment, and then in walked the King, also very much alive and certainly not poisoned, and commanded that the usurper be clapped in chains and sent forth from the Kingdom in shame and disgrace. That was the last they saw or heard of the scheming Aliza.
King El-Kalipha then sent his ambassador to the court of this same King, and offered great and humble apologies for the conduct of his daughter. After some time, the apologies were accepted, and then, after some more time, it was suggested that perhaps all was not lost diplomatically; perhaps his second daughter might make a suitable wife for Prince Mahmud.
So it was agreed, and he presently sent the fair Zobeda to his neighbour’s kingdom. Zobeda was radiantly beautiful in her own right, perhaps not quite so much as Aliza, but certainly lovely beyond the level of any normal woman, very suitable to be the wife of any Prince. At first Mahmud was extremely pleased and excited to see and to know the fair Zobeda, and found in her none of the scheming self-interest that had become so plain in Aliza. He found that she wished to explore him physically even before a marriage, a thought that concerned but a fraction of his mind, but mainly enthralled him.
But the next day, after spending time with her in the bedchamber, he asked after her and discovered she was busy pampering herself with oils and milk; then hours later he wished to see her, and burst into her chambers. She was indeed busy, and had been so for some hours pleasuring some of the male members of the court. She cried out and said ‘Prince Mahmud, these men are just slaves, I wish to marry you!’ He stomped away angrily, hoping that this was the only time she would indulge herself so orgiastically. But it was not to be: over the course of a week it happened daily, she would spend hours in copulation and sybaritic pleasure, not venturing forth to address questions of marriage, or even to learn about affairs of state, such as were proper for a princess who would eventually become a queen.
Eventually he summoned her: she appeared hours later, dressed in a shimmering, diaphanous veil of gold-coloured silk that did little to hide her lithe body. She smiled vacantly at him, and he knew that she’d been with men for many hours that day, much more so than he and anyone else might think proper, and certainly not so for a princess. He was forced to inform her, ‘you are not a suitable wife for me. I must send you home.’ At that she cried, and pleaded ‘Prince Mahmud, am I not lovely? Am I not beautiful?’ It very much appeared as if she were asking those questions of herself, and then answered, ‘yes, I am beautiful, and lovely, but you do not want me. Why should I not indulge myself in pleasure with the slaves? They are there for me and my pleasure.’ Understandably, he grew angry at her insistently hedonistic and selfish behaviour: she was not a potential murderer like Aliza, but her behaviour wasn’t very much better, simply wishing to waste her life in idle self-gratification. She had to be sent back to King El-Kalipha, with an admonition that he didn’t send any more daughters.
And so the lovely, self-obsessed Zobeda was sent back home in disgrace and embarrassment, and for a time King El-Kalipha was beside himself with worry and concern: his great design for the peace he so dearly wished to create between him and his neighbour’s kingdom might come to naught. He thought, and consulted his advisors, and then thought again, then came to a conclusion: he still had one daughter, and he thought that despite her appearance, he might still attain his desire.
And so he sent his long-suffering ambassador to the court of this same King, and offered even greater and more humble apologies for the conduct of his daughter. After some time, the apologies were accepted, and then, after a considerable time, it was suggested that perhaps there was some chance of a marriage, in the interests of peace and future cooperation, and perhaps his third daughter might just possibly make a suitable wife for Prince Mahmud: that is if he wasn’t very choosy about her appearance.
Prince Mahmud stood waiting for the caravan carrying the third daughter of King El-Kalipha: as he had never seen her before, nor heard any more than vague rumours concerning such, he had something of a surprise in store. He wondered what this third daughter of El-Kalipha would be like, both in terms of looks and character: surely she must be better than the other two? She could hardly be worse. He was told that she liked to spend many hours in study, and seldom did much that he would consider to be pleasurable, such as hunting. Presently the caravan arrived, and she stepped out of it, pushing aside the curtains in a manner quite unlike a princess: more like that of a slave, or perhaps, in the manner of one who didn’t understand why slaves would be required for such a mundane task.
She wore a thick silk costume which revealed only a vague impression of her shape: she was shorter than her two sisters. Over her face she wore a veil, and behind the veil, something glittered. In her litter he saw scrolls and books, but no attendants whatsoever. Then she walked slowly over to him, bowed her head deferentially for a moment, then addressed him slightly awkwardly ‘Prince Mahmud, I am Shazli, third Daughter of King El-Kalipha.’ He bowed ceremoniously, and then asked with some natural curiosity, ‘it is customary to allow the bridegroom to see his potential wife before a marriage.’ Behind her veil, she looked momentarily blank, then nodded. The unknown something that he’d seen behind her veil glittered again as she moved her head. What could it be?
She lifted her hand, and pulled away her veil from her head. At first she only uncovered half of her face, and looked up at him demurely with one dark eye. And he saw her face: she wasn’t ugly, at least not in the sense in which he’d heard rumours about. Her face was perfectly formed, not dissimilar to that of Aliza and Zobeda, her elder sisters. But what changed it was the clear crystalline lens that stood before her dark brown eye, and then the matching one that was before her other eye, visible as soon as she uncovered her entire face. These strange contrivances seemed to dominate her face, altering the way she looked: shrinking her eyes, pushing in her face while she stood looking up at him, trying to look respectful, despite her wish to return to her books. But duty called, thus she broke the silence.
‘Yes, I am sorry, I need these things in order to see the world as you and everyone else sees it. Apart from that, I think I am not an unusual woman.’ He looked suitably confused and surprised. As he led her back into his palace, he wondered what would come of a union with this young woman with poor vision? Would her children be similarly afflicted? He gave a sigh, and then stifled it severely. Unfortunately Shazli noticed, but she was by now well used to such reactions to her myopia and of course the necessary correction she needed to see. She said ‘Prince Mahmud, do not be so concerned. I can be a better wife to you than either Aliza or Zobeda; much better, considering how terrible they are. I truly am sorry that they are my elder sisters. You must be in despair of ever finding a wife… please do not give up. Let me try. There is a great need that we might find each other suitable.’ He allowed himself to be slightly less concerned, finding consolation in her concern for the future.
In fact, he found himself very surprised by how much she’d impressed him with her modesty, her intelligence and gentle spirit; after a few days he went to his father the King and asked that he be allowed to marry Shazli. He wasn’t so easily convinced, especially after two serious disappointments, and also considering the fact that she was “blind”. The prince protested at that, saying, ‘she is not blind. With her glasses she sees just as well as anyone else.’ ‘But consider the way she looks in order to do so: those glasses make her look so terribly strange and ugly. She may be pretty without them, but also blind. I can find you a hundred lovelier wives in my own realm, and they can all see well without help. Perhaps it would be wiser not to make peace with King El-Khalifa after all.’ ‘I still wish to marry her.’ The King considered for a moment, but then his mind was made up. He did not want to have such afflictions in his family. He commanded ‘I am sorry, my son, but I forbid you to marry this Shazli.’ Mahmud glared angrily at him, and then calmed. He knew what he must do.
That same day he went to Shazli and told him of his father’s decision, of his prejudice against her, then pledged his undying love and admiration to her, and proposed that they immediately run away and go to live at the court of her father. Shazli shook her head, and said ‘I am sorry, but my father wishes nothing else than to be rid of me. He finds me embarrassing, with my poor vision and the need for my glasses to help me see. He will not welcome me back.’ Mahmud then made a further proposal: that they run away, eschew all claims and thoughts of royalty, and live together as ordinary man and wife, as they could not do so whilst being Prince and Princess. Shazli considered a moment, then agreed.
That night they both stole out of their apartments, and dressed themselves in dark nondescript clothes, nothing like the silken finery they were accustomed to. The next day found the King wailing and moaning for his lost son, thus he sent out search parties, but to no avail: he would never be found. The pair of them set up a carpet shop many miles away from both kingdoms, and lived happily ever after.
https://vision-and-spex.com/the-three-daughters-of-king-el-kalipha-t669.html