I've been reading The Adventures of Amir Hamza: Lord of the Auspicious Planetary Conjunction. It's a collection of mythological, spiritual, moral, historical, romantic, horrifying, and all around amusing tales. Superheroic antics that make the notoriously homicidal 1941 Captain Marvel serial look like pacifist propaganda. Adventures that rival (and may have inspired, via cultural osmosis) those of Baron Munchausen. Jinns, magic, shipwrecks, thrills, adventure, and 1000 elephants!
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| Hamza's heroes fight in support of Qasim and Badi'uzzaman, Wikipedia |
The florid news writers, the sweet-lipped historians, revivers of old tales and renewers of past legends, relate that there ruled at Ctesiphon in Persia (image of Heaven!) Emperor Qubad Kamran, who cherished his subjects and was a succor to the impecunious in their distress. He was unsurpassed in dispensing justice, and so rigorous in this exercise that the best justice appeared an injustice compared to his decree. Prosperity and affluence thrived in his dominions while wrong and inequity slumbered in death, and, rara avis–like, mendicants and the destitute were extinct in his lands. The wealthy were at a loss to find an object for their charity. The weak and the powerful were equals, and the hawk and the sparrow roosted in the same nest. The young and the old sought one another’s pleasure, neither ever deeming himself the sole benefactor. The portals of houses remained open day and night like the eyes of the vigil, for if someone stole even the color of henna from the palm, he was ground in the mill of justice. The thief therefore did not even dream of thieving, and if perchance a wayfarer should come upon someone’s property on the road, he took it upon himself to restore it to its owner. Compared with Qubad Kamran’s fearlessness, might, and valor, Rustam was the same as a hag most decrepit and cowardly.
This imperious monarch had forty viziers, who were the epitomes of learning, wisdom, and prudence; and seven hundred wise men before whom even the likes of Plato and Aristotle were abecedarians. All these viziers were peerless in intellect and cognition, and so accomplished in physics, arithmetic, ramal, jafar, and astrology that they did not consider the likes of Galen and Euclid and Pythagoras fit company for themselves, let alone their equals. The emperor had seven hundred privy counselors, each more adept than ancient masters in arts and letters and in the decorum of assembly. And at the emperor’s command were four thousand champion warriors, to whom Sam and Nariman and Rustam and Zal would alike present the sword of humility in combat and accept from their hands the badge of slavery. Three hundred sovereigns who reigned over vast tracts paid tribute to Emperor Qubad Kamran, and bowed their heads in vassalage and obeisance before him. And one million mounted warriors, intrepid and fierce, and forty troops of slaves, clad in gold and finery, waited, deft and adroit, upon the emperor at his court—the envy of Heaven, the adornment of Paradise!
A paradise on earth, a king unsurpassed in wisdom, a peaceful and equal people... and forty troops of slaves. Just as modern Star Trek writers struggle to create problems in a utopian future that are not the problems of modern TV writers living in Los Angeles, the author(s) of Amir Hamza cannot see the hypocrisy of their imagined world through the bars of their present reality.
As we shall see, in this crime-free land, murder and avarice are surprisingly (even implausibly) common. Given dastan style, this is less of an inconsistency and more of a feature. It's not a genre that supports rigorous logical consistency.
One day Alqash [vizier to the Emperor, patron and pupil] said to Khvaja Bakht Jamal [seer and tutor], “The other night as idleness weighed on my heart, I decided to cast lots in your name. Reading the pattern, I discovered that your star is in the descendent, and some vicissitude of fortune will befall you. Your star shall remain in the same house for forty days. Thus it would not bode well for you to step out of the house during this period, or trust anyone. Even I must suffer under this burden of separation, and not see you!”
Following Alqash’s advice, Bakht Jamal secluded himself from the world, declining to receive either visitors or friends. Of the foretold days of ill-boding, thirty-nine had passed without mishap. On the fortieth day, Khvaja felt wretched to be shut inside his house, and set out carrying his staff to see vizier Alqash, to bring his only faithful and affectionate friend the news of his health and welfare.
Look, if you're a wise seer, you can't do 39 out of 40 days. It's either 40 or none. This is Prophecy 101.
As it was summer he took refuge from the burning sun under a tree’s shade. While he sat there, his eyes suddenly beheld a building most imposing, save for its outer walls that had fallen to ruin. [...] Stepping inside Khvaja discovered a cellar. There he found buried Shaddad’s seven boundless treasures of gold and jewels. Seized by fright, Khvaja was unable to take anything, and retraced his steps out of the cellar, then hastened to Alqash’s house to give him the propitious news. [...] After making small talk Khvaja mentioned the seven treasures to Alqash, and recounted the windfall, saying, “Though I was blessed in my stars to have come upon such an untold fortune, it was found on royal land, and lowly me, I cannot lay claim to it, nor is it indeed my station! I resolved in my heart that since you are the emperor’s vizier, and an excellent patron and friend to me, I should inform you of this bountiful treasure. Then, if you saw fit to confer a little something upon your humble servant,then that bit only would I consider—like my mother’s milk—warranted and rightful!”
Alqash was beside himself with joy when he heard of the seven treasures, and ordered two horses to be saddled forthwith; then he mounted one, and Khvaja the other, and they galloped off in the direction of the wasteland. By and by, they arrived at their destination. Alqash became greatly agitated and ecstatic the moment he set eyes on the seven hoards, and so violent indeed were his raptures of delight on the occasion, that he was almost carried away from this world.
While murmuring gratitude to his Creator for bestowing such a windfall on him, the thought suddenly flashed across Alqash’s mind that Khvaja Bakht Jamal was privy to this secret, and all that had come about. Alqash reasoned that if some day Khvaja Bakht Jamal chose to betray him to the emperor in order to gain influence at the court, the vizier would find himself in a sorry plight. That would indeed put his life in great peril, and not only would he have to wash his hands of this God-given bounty, but also the emperor might declare him an embezzler and depose him. It would be small wonder if at that point the contents of his house were confiscated and the building razed; he himself would be thrown into the dungeon, and his family exposed to humiliation and ruin, with all traces of his honorable name forever erased from the face of the earth. It would be by far the lesser evil, Alqash thought, to kill Khvaja right there, and then lay claim to the boundless treasure without the least anxiety that the secret would some day come to light, or that someone might one day reveal the secret.
This dilemma reminds me of a story in the same genre from Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
The family of Herod, at least after it had been favored by fortune, was lineally descended from Cimon and Miltiades, Theseus and Cecrops, Æacus and Jupiter. But the posterity of so many gods and heroes was fallen into the most abject state. His grandfather had suffered by the hands of justice, and Julius Atticus, his father, must have ended his life in poverty and contempt, had he not discovered an immense treasure buried under an old house, the last remains of his patrimony. According to the rigor of the law, the emperor might have asserted his claim, and the prudent Atticus prevented, by a frank confession, the officiousness of informers. But the equitable Nerva, who then filled the throne, refused to accept any part of it, and commanded him to use, without scruple, the present of fortune. The cautious Athenian still insisted, that the treasure was too considerable for a subject, and that he knew not how to use it. Abuse it then, replied the monarch, with a good-natured peevishness; for it is your own.
But in Amir Hamza, Khvaja Bakht Jamal was not as prudent. Alquash promptly murders him and buries the corpse under the ruin.
Meet Buzurjmehr, son of the murdered Khvaja Bakht Jamal. His age is unclear, but he might be five years old.
One day, it so happened that there was nothing to eat. Buzurjmehr said to his mother, “I am perishing with hunger. Please give me something that I might sell it and buy some food.” His mother replied, “Son, your father left us nothing that I can spare to be sold for meat and drink. But on the shelf there lies an ancient book, belonging to my father, and written long ago. Many a time, when your father was in need of money, he resolved to sell it. But every time he reached for it, a black serpent would dart out hissing from the shelf, and your father would turn back in fright. See if you can fetch it from there and sell it. I have nothing else at present to offer you to sell to buy food.”
Maybe you have a weird switch in your apartment that doesn't seem to do anything. Well, they've got a mysterious snake-book.
Buzurjmehr went and fetched the book as his mother had bid, but he did not find the serpent. As he turned a few pages and read them, he at first began to wail loudly, and cried copious tears like a cloud in springtime; then, having read a little further, he burst into riotous laughter. From his raptures of joy his pallid face—which before was the envy of the taper’s amber glow—now became as scarlet as a ruby’s honor.
Those present were greatly astonished, and marveled at what might have caused such a reversal of humor in him. Suspecting a fit of lunacy, his mother beseeched some of the witnesses to send for a bloodletter to bleed him, and others to get an amulet to put around his neck, wailing all the while that he was her only son and if he were seized by madness she would have no support in her adversity.
Noticing his mother’s agitation, Buzurjmehr comforted her, and said, “Do not grieve, Mother, and stop worrying in your heart. God willing, the days of affliction shall soon end, and for all our suffering we shall be more than compensated. [...] I have become neither deluded nor taken with delirium. The reason I cried and laughed was that from reading this book I have learned all that has gone before and all that shall come to pass. I cried to discover that the vizier Alqash had murdered my innocent father, and that his corpse still lies above the ground, awaiting last rites. And I laughed upon finding out that I will avenge my father’s blood, and shall become our emperor’s vizier. Vex yourself no further! We shall have enough for ourselves—and to feed ten others besides.”
Our hero has acquired perfect omniscience. This is an interesting authorial choice; it does remove most of the tension from any scene, since we know our hero has perfect foreknowledge... but this isn't the sort of literature where "will our hero get out of danger" is relevant. The "how" is the important part. It's also interesting that prophecy follows the maternal line.
Having said this, Buzurjmehr took a handmaiden to the grocer’s and asked him to weigh out daily as much in victuals, butter, and sugar as she might ask for, without bothering about payment. The grocer asked, “But when would I be paid? Why should I bestow this largesse upon you?” Buzurjmehr said, “Do you ask payment of me? Perhaps you have forgotten how you poisoned the farmer Chand along with his four sons to avoid payment for the several thousand maunds of wheat you had bought from him. What would become of you if I were to reveal this before the royal court, and what would be your payback then?” Hearing this the grocer was seized with fright, threw his turban at Buzurjmehr’s feet, and pleaded in a trembling voice, “My son, as Ram is my witness, this shop is at your disposal. Whenever your desire anything, send for it from here, but pray keep to yourself what you have just uttered.”
That's two people known to this child who've been secretly murdered and buried in the pursuit of wealth.
From there Buzurjmehr took the servant girl to the butcher’s shop, and asked him to apportion one Tabrizi maund of meat to her daily. The butcher asked, “And when shall I be paid and the account settled?” Buzurjmehr answered, “Remember shepherd Qaus, from whom you received several thousand heads of sheep? When it was time for his settlement,you slaughtered and buried him in your shop’s cellar, and appropriated thousands upon thousands of rupees from that innocent man. Would you desire that I send his heirs to the Court of Justice, and show you how his blood calls out? Have you taken leave of your senses that you demand payment of me for this viand?” Upon hearing that, the meat vendor began to tremble like a cow at the sight of a butcher, and threw himself violently at Buzurjmehr’s feet declaring, “My provisions and my life may both be ransom of your life! As much as Your Honor’s girl shall desire shall be weighed out to her, and never even in my dreams would I desire compensation. But please safeguard my life and honor, and keep your lips sealed!”
That makes three people. This kingdom is looking less and less crime-free by the minute. Also, a "Tabrizi maund" is apparently ~3kg. That's a lot of meat for a child, mother, and servant. Presumably the book informed Buzurjmehr of a miraculous cure for gout.
Buzurjmehr dealt with the jeweler similarly, unnerving him by telling him of his past heinous deeds, and settling at the jeweler’s expense a daily stipend of five dinars for himself. Then he returned home and bided his time in happy anticipation. He was thronged by newfound acquaintances and friends, and he indulged himself in all sorts of pleasant amusements.
The jeweler's deeds are either more heinous than murder and robbery (and can't be reported) or less (and aren't worth reporting), but either way, that's three for three at the market. In fine fairy-tale tradition, the line between "just punishments for profiting from crime" and "extortion" is awfully thin.
Alqash uses some of the treasure to build a magnificent garden (Bagh-e Bedad) and invites the Emperor to visit. There's a parade of magnificent description . It's well worth reading, but it's not relevant to our purposes. It's a very nice garden, and it has everything the author could think of listing inside it.
Thus narrate the legend writers and the raconteurs of yore that since Buzurjmehr was wise, sagacious, virtuous, and discerning, he had given himself to a solitary life, and the hours of his nights and days were spent venerating the Almighty. One day his mother said to him, “Son! Of a sudden I am taken with a longing for some greens. If you were to inconvenience yourself, your mother’s craving would be fulfilled.” Buzurjmehr gladly acquiesced to his mother’s wishes, and bent his legs toward Bagh-e Bedad.
When your mother says she wants greens, you get her some greens.
Arriving at the gate he found it locked. He called the garden keeper, who came directly. As he was about to unlock the gate, Buzurjmehr said to him, “Do not touch the lock. The female of the snake you killed the other day is secreted away in the catch of the lock to bite you and avenge her mate.” When the keeper looked closely he did indeed find a female snake in the catch. He killed her, too, and opening the gate, threw himself at Buzurjmehr’s feet declaring, “It was your forewarning that saved me! Otherwise nothing stood between me and my death, and certainly I would have breathed my last.” [...]
When the gardener went to get the greens, he noticed a goat plundering the saffron fields with great abandon. He struck her with his mattock in irritation, and her chapter of life soon ended with her throes. Buzurjmehr called out, “O cruel man! Why did you kill for no reason, and take the blood of three innocent lives on your neck?” The gardener smiled and said, “Here I killed one goat, son, and you count her as three! Are you in your right mind?” Buzurjmehr told him that the goat had two kids of such and such color inside her womb, and when the gardener killed her, they died with her, too.
The fact that Chapter 3 is completely redolent with detail, and that the goats are just "such and such a colour," gave me an absolute fit the first time I read it. Oh sure, spend paragraph after paragraph describing fictional jewelled vines and listing every type of bird, weapon, and fabric in the world, but these goats? Whatever. They were a colour. Move on.
Unbeknownst to them, as they stood there talking, they had attracted Alqash’s ears, who was sitting on his throne, listening. He called the garden keeper over, and inquired what they had been discussing and what had come about. The keeper narrated all that had passed. When Alqash ordered the goat’s belly cut open, it did reveal two kids of the same color as Buzurjmehr had described. Greatly surprised, Alqash called Buzurjmehr over, and seating him by his side on the throne, asked him to introduce himself, his father, and where he had come from.
Buzurjmehr said, “I am Buzurjmehr, Khvaja Bakht Jamal’s son, and the grandson of Hakim Jamasp. Afflicted by fortune, as some tyrant has murdered my father, I long for revenge. I have become a recluse, and bide my time in patience and equanimity in the worship of the True Avenger, and am always consumed by my bereavement!”
Alqash asked, “Did you find your father’s killer, then?” Buzurjmehr said, “God is the True Avenger, and there is nothing beyond His scope. One of these days some mark will be discovered, and the blood of the innocent victim shall call out.” Alqash asked, “Could you divine what was in my heart that night?” Buzurjmehr replied, “You had it in your heart to divulge to your wife the treasure that you had discovered and what was your windfall. But something decided you against telling her, and you resolved to maintain your quiet.”
It feels like there's a missing sentence here. I guess that's how prophecy fights work. Alqash knows that Buzurjmehr knows, and Buzurjmehr knows that Alqash knows that he knows. Also, the Hakim Jamasp connection wasn't explained, but he's Buzurjmehr's maternal grandfather, i.e. the author and owner of the omniscience-granting snake-protected book.
Alqash’s wits took flight at these words, he became out of sorts, and all his composure was thrown awry. He began trembling like a willow, fearing that, if his dark deed became known, all the wealth and fortune he had hoarded would invite disaster upon him.
This boy has the gift of clairvoyance, he thought, and anyone who would eat the vital organs of such a one would become all-seeing, too. He decided to kill Buzurjmehr and devour his heart and liver. That would nip in the bud any evil that might be afoot, he thought, and silence any words that could spell trouble for him before they were uttered.
Prophecy is transmitted along the maternal line and is stored in the heart and liver. Good to know. Also, what?!
Thus decided, Alqash called for his Nubian slave, Bakhtiar, and secretly told him that if he were to slaughter Buzurjmehr, and bring him kebabs of his heart and liver, he would grant him his heart’s desire. The slave took Buzurjmehr to a dark cellar, as he was bid, and there he bore down upon Buzurjmehr and was about to slit open his throat with a knife, when Buzurjmehr involuntarily broke into laughter, and said to the slave, “The hope for which you sully yourself with my murder shall never be fulfilled by Alqash’s false promise, and the honor and prestige that you have at present will also be lost. However, if you refrain from killing me, you shall find success with me, God willing!” The slave said, “If you were to reveal to me my motive, I would set you free this instant!”
Buzurjmehr replied, “You are in love with Alqash’s daughter, but he will never give you her hand. I, however, shall arrange for you to marry her and, moreover, shall settle all your wedding expenses, too. Set me free now! Ten days from now, the emperor will have a dream that he shall forget. He will assemble all his viziers to quiz them and ask them of the dream and its interpretation. When all of them fail him, he will be taken by passion. Then your master will come asking for me. But beware, not until he has slapped you thrice should you divulge the truth about me. And remember not to breathe a word of it until then!” The slave said, “He had sent me to bring him kebabs of your vitals. If I took him some made from an animal, he would discover it at once—as he is a hakim—and punish me.”
That makes sense. Also, this is the problem with an omniscient hero. There's not a lot of suspense.
Buzurjmehr said, “At the gates of the city a woman is selling a kid raised on human milk. Take money from me and slaughter it and take Alqash its vitals. Use the remainder of the meat yourself!”
Ah, right. Also, what?!
At length the slave relented, from fear of God, and also from the hope of having his ambition satisfied. He did not kill Buzurjmehr but did as he had told him. Alqash ate the kid’s kebabs, and believing that he too had now become oracular and sapient, rejoiced exceedingly while sitting in his garden.Digression: Shades of Oracular Power
Larry, Curly, and Moe all have perfect foreknowledge. You flip a coin.
Larry remembers reading in a book that the coin will come up heads. He reports this.|
Curly has a vision of the future, showing the coin landing on heads. He reports this.
Moe doesn't know where the coin will land, but knows that whatever he declares will be correct. He says "heads" and lo, it is heads. If he declared "eaten by a bird", lo, it would be eaten by a bird.
Larry can lie about the book's contents or misremember details. Curly can fail to have a vision, or misinterpret the vision. Moe, however, cannot speak anything but the truth. Moe is a divine conduit, an avatar of a determinist watchmaker deity. Instead of Larry, Curly, and Moe, they could be Sybil, Nectanebos, and... Doctor Manhattan? That's not quite right.
Back to the story:
It so befell that on the tenth day, the emperor had a dream that he in no way remembered. In the morning, he said to his wise counselors and viziers: “Last night I had a dream that I do not now recall, and no matter how hard I try to recollect, it does not come to me. You must narrate it to me and tell me its interpretation to ingratiate yourselves with me!”
All of them replied that they would exert their wise minds and all their learning to their utmost, and oblige him with an interpretation if they only knew the dream. The emperor replied: “The wise men in Sikander’s times would often narrate to him dreams that he could not recollect and tell him their interpretations, for which they were liberally rewarded. I have employed you for similar offices, and you have received all manners of favors and kindnesses from me. If you fail to narrate the dream and tell me what it signifies, I shall have every single one of you put to the sword, and order your wife and children to be pulverized in the oil press and your households plundered. For mercy’s sake, I give you a reprieve of forty days. By that time, if you come up with an interpretation to my liking, very well and good, otherwise yours will be a most unenviable lot!”
Wise, virtuous, beneficent... and a capricious homicidal despot. Sounds like Imperial behaviour to me. Even in "test the seers" tales, the ruler usually doesn't bring out the oil press with such ghoulish enthusiasm.
The emperor was irked most by Alqash, as he was the most celebrated among the viziers. All the counselors and wise men were at a loss as to how to relate an unseen and unheard-of dream, and wondered how and by what device to ward off the scourge from their heads.
After forty days had passed, the emperor again assembled the company and asked them if they had succeeded in finding out the content of his dream and all that it entailed. Everyone remained silent, but Alqash spoke: “This slave has divined from geomancy that Your Majesty dreamt of a bird that swooped down from the heavens and dropped Your Eminence into a river of fire. Your Excellency started in your sleep in fright, and woke up without remembrance of the dream.”
You've got to hand it to Alqash; that's a top-tier Imperial dream.
The emperor replied angrily, “O vile and brazen-faced liar, I give you the lie! A fine story you have concocted. On this basis you call yourself learned and prudent and sagacious and a celebrated geomancer! Never did I have such a dream that you relate to be mine. I shall allow you two days more of respite. If you have not related the dream by the end of that time, I swear by Namrud’s pyre that you shall be the first to be buried alive. My wrath shall visit every one of you assembled here, and not a single one of you will be shown mercy!”
Ever had a boss (or elected leader) like that? Yeah. Maybe this part of the story, like the deceitful merchants suddenly giving away free stuff, is less about a fantastic world and more about the dreams of the audience. Also, the emperor was putting the seers to the sword before, and now they're being buried alive. Later (spoiler alert), he has people shot with arrows or thrown to the hounds. Much later, his wife and daughter suggest punishments that'd turn the stomach of a latter Byzantine court.
Greatly distressed at the emperor’s words, Alqash returned home, and immediately sent for Bakhtiar and asked him, “Tell me verily where the boy is hidden! Did you spare his life or was he consigned to some cellar?” Bakhtiar answered, “I killed him just as I was ordered, and roasted his vitals and brought them to you, and today I am being asked to produce the boy!” Alqash replied, “As he was most wise and sapient, I am convinced that he escaped from your hands and you do not confess for fear that I would chastise you for disobedience. But I swear by the gods Lat and Manat that I shall not punish you but shall invest you instead with estate and high office. Bring him to me that my life, and the life and honor of countless other innocent people shall be spared.”
"Also," Alqash thought to himself, "that heart and liver I ate definitely tasted human-milk-fed meat, and I'd know, since I'm a doctor. Who, or what, did I eat? Questions for later."
When Bakhtiar reiterated his statement, his master in annoyance slapped him three times so hard that Bakhtiar’s eardrum was ruptured and spurted blood, and Bakhtiar fell on the floor in pain. When he came to in a few moments, he replied, “Do not punish your slave. I shall go and bring Buzurjmehr as you command!” Alqash said, “I wonder at your foolishness! How many times did I ask you for him, and so kindly, but got nothing except denial? And now you confess after I have punished you.” Bakhtiar said, “He had strictly forbidden me to disclose his whereabouts to you until you had struck me thrice.” Thereupon Alqash embraced Bakhtiar, and said, “Hurry and bring him at once! I shall make you a happy man, and shower you with gold and jewels.”
Buzurjmehr came out directly when Bakhtiar knocked at the door, and after inquiring about what had transpired, accompanied him to Alqash’s house. The vizier showed Buzurjmehr much respect and deference, and excused his past conduct.
That must have been one hell of an excuse. I think this is the point where Alqash should have taken a moment, stepped back, and thought about how this whole scenario was likely to play out for him. But the power of a tyrannical boss driveth all wisdom before it.
Then, to inform him of his present predicament, Alqash spoke thus: “The emperor had a dream that he forgot and we are made to bear the brunt of it. The emperor said that if we did not narrate his dream to him, he would kill every single one of us to punish us collectively. But no one but you has the power to describe what is hidden and to save us and our families from imminent ruin. If you would be kind enough to relate the dream to me, it would be as if you granted us all a reprieve from death.”
Buzurjmehr replied, “I cannot disclose the dream here. But come morning, tell the emperor that you had only been testing the wise and learned counselors and viziers in his employ, to see if they had any claim to omniscience. And that, as their knowledge and worth had now become amply manifest to His Majesty, you would like to bring forward your pupil, that if His Highness were to send for him, he would presently relate the dream and all its particulars. Then, when the emperor shall send for me, I will relate the dream and its interpretation, which shall earn you great distinction in the emperor’s eyes, save hundreds of innocent lives, and you will be advanced in your office in the bargain.”
Sure, let's put the omniscient kid, whose father I murdered and buried in my cellar, in front of the Emperor. Three guesses as to how (after some murder investigation, dream interpretation, etc.) this goes down?
A robe of honor was conferred upon Buzurjmehr, and that same day Alqash was taken outside the city walls and, before a crowd of onlookers, buried up to his waist and riddled with arrows by expert archers. All the goods and chattels belonging to Alqash, with the inclusion of his wife and daughter, were awarded to Buzurjmehr, and all those riches and estate changed masters in no time.
You got it in one.
After many days, when all the emperor’s viziers, privy counselors, learned men, commanders, and sovereigns were assembled in the royal court, he spoke to them thus: “I have found Buzurjmehr to be pious and devout, of noble blood, courageous, and unrivaled. He is Khvaja Bakht Jamal’s son, grandson of Hakim Jamasp, and unsurpassed in wisdom and learning. I have rarely seen one so upright, constant, and generous. All the wealth and riches of treacherous Alqash that I had bestowed upon him, he returned untouched to Alqash’s wife and daughter. He is well versed in etymology and syntax, logic, ethics, mathematics, rhetoric, astronomy, geometry, letters, arithmetic, philosophy, geomancy, astrology, and so forth. And he is no ordinary lay cleric either, but adept at statecraft, economics, etiquette, judgment, administration of finances and state, attention to forms, and is liberal, brave, and most civil. He is also virtuous and an eloquent speaker. One rarely comes across such a capable and dignified man. Even if one were to search for a man of such qualities, such a one as this would never appear. And he is oracular, moreover."
Looking to pad your resume? Look no farther.
"Previously, all the viziers of our empire were ignoramuses and rank idiots. They were corrupt, base, and indolent, and deficient in the performance of their offices. Therefore, I desire to make Buzurjmehr my vizier, and confer upon him the robe of ministerial rank.”But the first paragraph of this book said... OK, well, nevermind. They can't interpret a dream that the emperor can't remember, so they're all useless. Also, who appointed the previous vizers? Want to examine that at all? No? OK, well, surely this impulsive choice is the right one.
"The courtiers unanimously sounded their praise and approval of the emperor’s propitious opinion, and with one voice announced: “Indeed a man of such qualities has been neither seen nor heard of before. No opinion could surpass the capital opinion of Your Highness! Before His Majesty’s precious thoughts, all other thoughts perish! In this matter your beneficent eye has alighted on the ideal candidate. We desire with all our heart that Buzurjmehr be promoted and advanced in rank!”
"Please don't put our wives and children in the oil press," they added.
It's implied that Buzurjmehr is a full-grown adult by the end of this story, but it's all very vague. By the next story cycle, he's an adult (probably) and seems to have lost his perfect omniscience, switching to a more standard wise seer role.
This arc covered the first 31 pages of the unabridged edition. There are 875 pages left.
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Other Selected Excerpts From Book 1
To ascertain the precise moment of birth, Buzurjmehr put Indian, European, Roman, Dutch, and Gaelic clocks before him. Then, after setting an astrolabe to determine the movement of the stars, he sat alert with the dice ready in his hand and the astrological table spread before him, to await the illustrious birth of the emperor’s heir.
The translator seems to be scrupulous about ambiguous terms. If they say it's a Gaelic clock, it's a Gaelic clock... whatever that means.
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Upon catching sight of him, Hashsham laughed with contempt, and said, “Death flutters above his head seeking a perch, and doom spurs him forward, since he has come forth to skirmish and dares show me his face!” Then urging his rhinoceros alongside Antar’s mount, Hashsham said, “What is it that you seek? Why do you desire the massacre of your troops, and wish to lay down your life!”
Several characters end up riding rhinoceroses. This is never really explained. At first, I thought the translator might have chosen "rhinoceros" as a translation of "unicorn-like creature", but no, it's definitely a rhinoceros. The emperor has a throne carried by four elephants, which seems like one of those ideas that sounds really good to the emperor after a few drinks and quite alarming in the grim light of sobriety.
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| Umar Defeats a Dragon, Wikipedia |
In some folk tales and stories (e.g. Haida myths), scale is fluid and non-visual. A character helps a mouse over a log, and is then invited into the mouse's home. There's a dream-logic abstraction, where things reduced to their essential qualities.
Amir Hamza... doesn't do that. It is full of endless lists and overwhelming detail.
Amar was given five daggers with bejeweled hilts, and forty-four rattles to strap around his waist. Then he was taught twelve musical styles, twenty-eight manners of improvisation, six high-key notes, twenty-four songs, and instructed in six methods of sporting stockings and false whiskers. Buzurg Ummid girded a naphtha flask securely around Amar’s waist, and gave him a ball of dried silk cotton steeped in a blend of medicinal wines of such a potency that were even a small plug of it dissolved in water, that liquid would turn to liquor, and for all purposes would substitute for roseate wine.
Also, Amar received a gallipot of lip balm; a scent box of marvelously intricate pattern full of a remarkable fragrance of delirious power; a finely worked box of theriaca; a fly whisk made of peacock plumules; a flask filled with water; a glittering and deadly sword; a shield polished to a sheen as bright as the sun’s orb; a quiver; a bow before whose perfection a rainbow would appear shabby; and peerless Khorasani and Isfahani daggers.
Buzurg Ummid also gave Amar a cloak of trickery of vast length and breadth that covered his entire body from head to foot, reticulated like a bird net so that one wrapped in its folds would not feel his breath strangulated and would neither agitate nor suffocate; a pair of shoes decorated with broadcloth tassels, softer than cotton, light, and weightless; and two hava-mohra plaited in silken cords for tying around the thighs so that even a thousand mile sprint would not tire out his legs nor would his legs ever falter. Buzurg Ummid then decorated Amar with four hundred and forty-four similarly marvelous devices contrived by Buzurjmehr, and also provided Amar with choice, rare, priceless, and glittering arms.
[...]
Then the emperor had his throne mounted atop four elephants and, escorted by his nobles and ministers, he went forth with great royal splendor to greet Amir. The commanders and grandees of the state followed in his train. The procession had advanced two leagues when a dark cloud appeared on the horizon. The scissors of the billowing wind cut asunder the veil of dust, and the Beautifier of Light washed the face of the field. There then appeared on the horizon twenty standards, with a force of thirty thousand mounted warriors marching underneath. Hedged by a body of troops under the flags fluttering in the gusting wind, Amir Hamza was seen riding Siyah Qitas in the shadow of the dragon-shaped standard. To his right rode illustrious kings, and to his left renowned warriors. And in Amir’s cortege marched the Father of Racers, the Lord of Mischief-mongers of the World, the King of Dagger-Throwing Tricksters, Khvaja Amar Ayyar, sporting his headdress of brocaded silk, brocade singlet, broadcloth tasseled shoes, and trickster’s sling, and bedecked with many such contrivances. A glittering sword bright as lightning reposed in his scabbard; a shining dagger was lodged in his belt; on his back were slung the bow and the quiver, the tangles of the lasso, and the net—the scourge of the adversary. He was accompanied by his pupils and continuously sang in six high-key notes, twelve musical styles, and twenty-four melodies in twenty-eight manners of improvisation.
The translator admits that the precise nature of this musical feat is difficult to translate, let alone imagine. Some tales have a trickster with a conveniently unspecified bag of tricks; this version seems to pile on the magic items and accoutrements. Adar sometimes receives the same magic item or benefit several time, thanks to duplicated/merged traditions. Inventory management is not a problem in this genre. But nevertheless, a wizard will sometimes sneak "beneficial" items into your flesh.
Buzurjmehr took Amir to a workshop, and after imparting some instructions to him regarding the mission, served sherbet to him. Upon drinking this, Hamza fell unconscious immediately, and lost all sense of himself. Buzurjmehr cut open Hamza’s side, and after planting the Shah Mohra* inside him, sutured up the wound and rubbed it with the salve of Daud**.
*Shah Mohra: a precious stone, said to be found in a serpent’s mouth or a dragon’s head, that is reputed to have curative properties.
**Salve of Daud: (Marham-e Daudi) a legendary ointment that is known for its miraculous healing properties.
Come to think of it, sewing a jewel into a person to keep it hidden from a notorious legendary thief is pretty wise.
Upon hearing these words Aulad began to grin from ear to ear, and ordered a host of celebrations at the news. He conferred a costly robe of honor on Amar, and asked him, “When should I celebrate the nuptials and consummate my troth with that moonfaced beauty?”
Poetic language can be dangerous. Call someone a "moonfaced beauty" these days and see what happens. "My moonfaced beauty... pale, round, pockmarked, trodden on by twelve diaper-wearing American men..."
RPG historical knowledge splits the past into Clubs & Fur, Togas & Sandals, Knights in Full Armour, Knights in Breastplates with Ruffs & Guns, Pirates, Samurai & Ninjas, The Wild West & The American Civil War, WW1 & Gangsters, WW2, Conspiracy '50s, Hippies, '90s Cyberfuture, Now, and Space.
“Medieval”, especially “medieval fantasy” seems to cover everything from Constantine to Cromwell. Joan of Arc, Robin Hood, and Richard the Lionheart all happened at approximately the same time; before muskets, potatoes, the printing press, and ruffled collars, but after togas, orgies, and chariot racing.
-Magical Industrial Revolution
Amir Hamza, like the Alexander Romance, 1001 Nights, and other collections of tales, takes place in The Past. There's the Properly Ancients (Adam, Noah, Moses), the Ancestors (the grandparents generation, Zororaster, Socrates, Alexander the Great, etc.), and the Approximately Now. You can't be surprised to encounter the Flintlock Musket of the Maccabees. Historical memory is weird.
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| Mahiya frees Zambur, Beheads his sleeping guards, and suspends Gharrad,Wikipedia |
Final Notes
There's a nasty streak in Amir Hamza. Sure, it's got the usual fabilau misogyny (see Jean de Meun, etc.), and few eruptions of what seems to be 1850s scientific racism (compared to the more gentle medieval-coded racism of earlier similar works) but that comes with the territory. Yes, there are several episodes and tales that outright mock misogyny, but... OK, look, you know pervy old Master Roshi from Dragon Ball (it's in a related genre). The fact that he gets hit in the face for being an old pervert doesn't make it a feminist narrative. The perving still occurs.
There's a peculiar ghoulish relish at torture and executions, a desperate fawning over power, and a sense of unwholesome mind that characterizes, for example, the life and works of George Selwyn, or some collections of fairy tales. Tax collectors, credulous teachers, and deceitful merchants get their just rewards, but, at the same time, blameless minor characters (and whole armies) are subjected to horrible fates without comment. Heroes act in particularly vicious and inconsistent ways, without a sense of ambiguity. Saints and spirits appear, deliver strict moral rules and injunctions, but our heroes seem to either ignore or actively flout them. Bullying and avarice are usually rewarded; trickery is only dishonourable for an inferior person.
To the superior person it is permitted to deceive fools; it is not ungentlemanly of him, it is expected, it is nature, it is law.
- The Zimmermann Telegram, Tuchman.
In Cath Catharda is bloody and over-the-top, but it is still interested in the human condition, in politics and human events. Robert Graves described the antics of the Marx Brothers as "heartless" compared to the "gay spirit of laughter in a cruel, crazy world" of Chaplain's films, and I think that's a fair assessment of Amir Hamza's main flaw. It's not grounded enough to be cynical or insightful enough to be moral.
I don't think this is due to the translator, Musharraf Ali Farooqi. (Although it could be; I can't help but treat translators with well-polished wikipedia pages as guilty until proven innocent.) It'd require some fairly significant alterations of the text. The author / compiler Ghalib Lakhnavi may have been working with some texts that emphasized these themes, but the same narrative can be treated in many different ways. Whatever the reason, this text has a curious undercurrent of viciousness.
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