It is related, and God alone knows the truth of all things, that the Caliph Harun al-Rashid summoned his Wazir Ja'afar one night and said to him, "I wish to go down into the city and question the common people about those who govern them. Those whom the people complain about, I will remove from office, and those they praise, I will promote." Ja'afar answered, "I hear and obey." So the Caliph went out with Ja'afar and the Eunuch Masrur into the city. They walked about the streets and markets, and as they went through a narrow alley, they came upon a very old man with a fishing net and a basket to carry small fish on his head, and a staff in his hand. As he walked slowly, he recited these lines:

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'They say me:—You shinest a light to mankind With your lore as the night which the Moon does uplight! I answer, "A truce to your jests and your gibes; Without luck what is learning.—a poor devil people! If they take me to pawn with my lore in my pouch, With my volumes to read and my ink case to write, For one day's provision they never could pledge me; As likely on Doomsday to draw bill at sight:" How poorly, indeed, does it fare wi' the poor, With his pauper existence and beggarly plight: In summer he fails provision to find; In winter the fire pot's his only delight: The street dogs with bite and with bark to him rise, And each losel receives him with bark and with bite: If he lift up his voice and complain of his wrong, None pities or heeds him, however he's right; And when sorrows and evils like these he must brave His happiest home stead were down in the grave."

When the Caliph heard his verses, he said to Ja'afar, "Look at this poor man and listen to his verses, for they surely speak of his hardships." Then he approached him and asked, "O old man, what is your trade?" The poor man answered, "O my lord, I am a fisherman with a family to support. I have been out since midday, and Allah has not granted me a single thing to feed my family. I cannot even sell myself to buy them supper. I hate my life and long for death." The Caliph said, "Will you return with us to the banks of the Tigris and cast your net on my behalf? Whatever you catch, I will buy from you for a hundred gold pieces." The man was delighted and said, "On my head and my eyes! I will go with you." They returned to the river, and he cast his net. After a time, he hauled in the rope and dragged the net ashore. In it appeared a chest, padlocked and heavy. The Caliph examined it and lifted it, finding it weighty. He gave the fisherman two hundred dinars and sent him away. Then Masrur, with the Caliph's help, carried the chest to the palace and set it down. They lit candles, and Ja'afar and Masrur broke it open. Inside they found a palm-leaf basket tied with red cord. They cut it open and found a piece of carpet, which they removed. Beneath it was a woman's mantilla folded in four. At the bottom of the chest, they found a young woman, fair as polished silver, who had been killed and cut into nineteen pieces.

When the Caliph saw her, he cried out in anguish, and tears ran down his cheeks. Turning to Ja'afar, he said, "O wretched Wazir! Shall people be murdered in my reign and thrown into the river, becoming a burden and a responsibility for us before God on the Day of Judgment? By God, we must avenge this woman on her murderer, and he shall die the worst of deaths!" Then he added, "By the blood of the descendants of Abbas, if you do not bring me the one who killed her, so that I may execute justice upon him, I will hang you at the gate of my palace along with forty of your relatives." And the Caliph's rage was terrible. Ja'afar said, "Grant me three days," and the Caliph replied, "I grant you this time." So Ja'afar left the palace and returned to his house, filled with sorrow and thinking to himself, "How can I find the one who murdered this woman and bring him before the Caliph? If I bring someone other than the true murderer, it will be held against me by God. Truly, I do not know what to do." He stayed in his house for three days, and on the fourth day the Caliph sent a chamberlain for him.

When Ja'afar came before the Caliph, he asked, "Where is the murderer of the lady?" Ja'afar answered, "O Commander of the Faithful, am I an inspector of murdered people that I should know who killed her?" The Caliph was enraged at this answer and ordered him hanged at the palace gate. He commanded that a crier announce through the streets of Baghdad, "Whoever wishes to see the hanging of Ja'afar the Barmaki, the Caliph's Wazir, along with forty of the Barmecides, his kinsmen and relatives, at the palace gate, let him come and witness it!" The people came from all quarters of the city to witness the execution of Ja'afar and his kinsmen, though they did not know the reason. They set up the gallows and made Ja'afar and the others stand beneath it, ready for execution. All eyes looked to the Caliph for the signal to proceed, and the crowd wept for Ja'afar and his kinsmen of the Barmecides, when suddenly a young man, fair of face, well-dressed, beautiful as the light of the moon, with black bright eyes, a brow white as flowers, cheeks red as roses with soft down where a beard would grow, and a mole like a grain of musk, pushed through the crowd and stood before the Wazir. He said, "Peace be upon you, O Prince of the Emirs, refuge of the poor! I am the man who killed the woman you found in the chest. Hang me and execute justice upon me!"

When Ja'afar heard the youth's confession, he was relieved for his own safety, but he grieved for the handsome youth. As they were still talking, an old man, well advanced in years, pushed through the crowd and made his way to Ja'afar and the youth. He greeted the Wazir saying, "O Wazir, O noble Prince! Do not believe the words of this youth. I alone murdered the damsel. Execute justice upon me now, for if you do not, I will demand it of you before Almighty Allah." The young man said, "O Wazir, this is an old man in his senility who does not know what he is saying. I am the one who murdered her, so avenge her upon me!" The old man said, "O my son, you are young and desire the joys of the world. I am old and weary, having had enough of life. I will offer my life as a ransom for you and for the Wazir and his kinsmen. No one murdered the damsel but I. For God's sake, hurry and hang me, for I no longer wish to live now that she is gone." The Wazir marvelled greatly at this strange situation. Taking both the young man and the old man, he carried them before the Caliph.

After kissing the ground seven times before the Caliph, Ja'afar said, "O Commander of the Faithful, I bring you the murderer of the lady!" "Where is he?" asked the Caliph. Ja'afar answered, "This young man claims, 'I am the murderer,' and this old man contradicts him, saying, 'I am the murderer.' Behold, both stand before you." The Caliph looked at the old man and the young man and asked, "Which of you killed the girl?" The young man replied, "No one but I killed her," and the old man said, "Indeed, no one but I killed her." The Caliph said to Ja'afar, "Take both and hang them," but Ja'afar replied, "Since only one of them is the murderer, to hang the other would be a grave injustice." "By Him who raised the heavens and spread the earth like a carpet," cried the youth, "I alone am the one who killed the lady," and he went on to describe exactly how he had murdered her, and he spoke of the basket, the mantilla, and the piece of carpet—in fact, everything the Caliph had found. The Caliph was thus certain that the young man was the murderer. He marvelled and asked him, "What caused you to wrongfully kill this lady? What made you confess the murder without torture? What brought you here to give up your life, and what made you say to execute justice upon me?"

The youth answered, "Know, O Commander of the Faithful, that this woman was my wife and the mother of my children. She was also my first cousin, the daughter of my father's brother—this old man here, who is my uncle. When I married her, she was a virgin, and Allah blessed me with three sons by her. She loved me and served me well, and I loved her dearly. On the first day of this month, she fell gravely ill. I called physicians to her, and gradually she began to recover. When she felt well enough to bathe, she said to me, 'There is something I crave before I go to the bath, and I crave it greatly.' I said, 'Whatever you wish, I will obtain for you. What is it?' She answered, 'I have a strong desire for an apple—to smell it and bite it.' I replied, 'If you had a thousand desires, I would fulfill them all!'

"I went into the city immediately to find apples, but could find none. Yet I would have paid a gold piece for each one. I was troubled and returned home, saying, 'O daughter of my uncle, by God, I cannot find any!' She was distressed, being still weak, and her weakness increased that night. I was anxious and alarmed for her. As soon as dawn broke, I went out again and searched every garden, but found no apples anywhere. Finally, I met an old gardener and asked him about them. He answered, 'O my son, apples are rare for us and are not to be found except in the garden of the Commander of the Faithful at Bassorah, where the gardener keeps them for the Caliph's exclusive use.'

"I returned home, troubled by my failure. But my love for my wife moved me to undertake the journey. I prepared and set out, travelling fifteen days and nights to Bassorah and back, and I purchased three apples from the gardener for three dinars. But when I brought them to my wife and set them before her, she showed no interest in them and left them at her side. Her fever and weakness had increased, and her illness persisted for ten days before she began to recover. I then left my house and went to my shop to attend to business. About midday, I saw a large, ugly black slave—tall as a lance and broad as a bench—pass by my shop holding one of the three apples, playing with it. I asked him, 'O slave, where did you get that apple? Tell me so I can get one like it.' He laughed and answered, 'I got it from my mistress. I had been away, and when I returned, I found her lying ill with three apples beside her. She said to me, "My foolish husband made a journey to Bassorah and bought these three apples for three dinars." So I ate with her and took this apple.'

"When I heard these words, O Commander of the Faithful, the world turned dark before my eyes. I closed my shop and went home in a rage. I looked for the apples and found only two. I asked my wife, 'O daughter of my uncle, where is the third apple?' She raised her head weakly and answered, 'I do not know, O son of my uncle, where it has gone.' This confirmed to me that the slave's story was true. In my rage, I took a knife and came behind her. Without a word, I lay upon her and cut her throat. Then I severed her head and limbs, wrapped her in her mantilla and a piece of carpet, sewed the bundle closed, placed it in a chest, locked it, and loaded it onto a mule. I threw it into the Tigris with my own hands.

"So, in God's name, O Commander of the Faithful, execute me quickly, for I fear she will demand vengeance on the Day of Resurrection. After I threw her into the river and returned home, I found my eldest son weeping, though he knew nothing of what I had done to his mother. I asked him, 'Why are you weeping, my boy?' He answered, 'I took one of the three apples by my mother and went to play in the alley with my brothers. A big black slave snatched it from my hand and asked where I got it. I told him my father had travelled far to bring it from Bassorah for my mother, who was ill, along with two other apples for which he paid three dinars. The slave ignored my words and asked for the apple a second and third time, but he struck me and kicked me and took it. I was afraid my mother would beat me because of the apple, so I went outside the city with my brother and stayed there until evening. I am afraid of her now. Please, O my father, do not tell her about this, or it will make her illness worse!'

"When I heard my son's words, I realised the slave was the one who had slandered my wife, the daughter of my uncle, and I understood that I had killed her unjustly. I wept bitterly, and soon after, this old man, my uncle and her father, arrived. I told him what had happened, and he sat with me and wept. We wept together until midnight. For the last five days, we have mourned her, weeping in the deepest sorrow for her unjust death. All of this came from the slave's false accusation. This is how I killed her. So I beg you, by the honour of your ancestors, execute me quickly and do her justice, for I cannot live after her."

The Caliph marvelled at his words and said, "By God, the young man is excusable. I will not hang anyone but the accursed slave, and I will do something that will comfort those in distress and suffering, and will please the All-Glorious King."

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When it was the Twentieth night

Ja'afar departed weeping and saying to himself, "Two deaths have already threatened me, and the pot will not survive every blow. In this matter, neither craft nor cunning will help, but He who saved my life the first time can save it again. By God, I will not leave my house during the three days of life remaining to me, and let Truth—whose perfection be praised—do as He will." So he stayed in his house for three days, and on the fourth day he summoned the Judges and legal witnesses and made his will, bidding farewell to his children with tears. Suddenly a messenger from the Caliph arrived and said, "The Commander of the Faithful is in a terrible rage. He sends for you and swears that this day will not pass without your being hanged, unless the slave is found." When Ja'afar heard this, he wept, and his children, slaves, and all in the house wept with him. After he had said goodbye to everyone but his youngest daughter, he approached her to say farewell. He loved this small, beautiful child more than all his other children. He pressed her to his chest, kissed her, and wept bitterly at their parting. As he embraced her, he felt something round in the front of her dress and asked, "O my little daughter, what is in your bosom pocket?" "O my father," she replied, "it is an apple with the name of our Lord the Caliph written on it. Our slave Rayhan brought it to me four days ago and would not give it to me until I paid him two dinars." When Ja'afar heard about the slave and the apple, he was delighted. He put his hand into his daughter's pocket, drew out the apple, examined it, and cried out joyfully, "O Remover of troubles!" Then he ordered them to bring the slave and said to him, "Woe to you, Rayhan! Where did you get this apple?"

Rayhan replied, "By God, O my master, while a lie may save a man once, truth can save him well, again and again. I did not steal this apple from your palace or from the gardens of the Commander of the Faithful. Five days ago, as I was walking through one of the city's alleys, I saw some children at play, and one of them held this apple. I snatched it from him and beat him. He wept and said, 'O young man, this apple is my mother's, and she is ill. She told my father how she longed for an apple, so he travelled to Bassorah and bought her three apples for three gold pieces. I took one to play with.' He wept again, but I paid no attention and took the apple. I brought it here, and my young lady purchased it from me for two dinars in gold. That is the whole story." When Ja'afar heard this, he marvelled that his slave had caused the death of the lady and all this misery. He was saddened by his slave's involvement, yet he rejoiced at his own deliverance. He recited these lines:

"If ill happen you through your slave, Make him directly your sacrifice. A many serviles you will find, But life comes once and never twice."

Then he took the slave's hand and, leading him to the Caliph, recounted the story from beginning to end. The Caliph marvelled with great astonishment, laughed until he fell backward, and ordered that the story be written down and made known to all the people. But Ja'afar said, "Marvel not, O Commander of the Faithful, at this adventure, for there is a story even more wondrous—the History of the Wazir Nur al-Din Ali of Egypt and his brother Shams al-Din Muhammad." The Caliph said, "Tell it to me! But what could be stranger than this tale?" Ja'afar answered, "O Commander of the Faithful, I will not tell it unless you pardon my slave." The Caliph replied, "If this story is indeed more wondrous than that of the three apples, I grant the slave's life. If not, I will surely execute him." So Ja'afar began in these words:

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