The Tailor and the Beggar

As he did every month, Nadir was doing the rounds of his fabrics suppliers, high up in the mountains. Each supplier owned three or four hand-looms which, if you saw how old and in what bad condition they were, you would wonder how they could still work.

But they not only worked, but just because they were old, and therefore slow, they turned out the finest fabrics: mousselines, the most amazing brocades, subtly damasked velvets, the thinnest linen similar to the one that Romans used to call bissus.

And also incredibly soft woollen cloth, and those silk fabrics which everybody was envious of, since they appeared so luminescent .

For women, to the mousselines he added, at times, chiffons ravaged by stained dyeing and hand-block printing, cotton lace interwoven with crochet, tulle, twill, all layered, in an apparently illogical combination. It ended up in a precious and, at the same time, aged look, with exceptional results.

All his clothes were made to order. When he had a precious garment in mind he would sometimes set, scuttered around, amethysts or jade drops, in colors to match the eye of his customer.

Production was limited, of course, but that was exactly what Nadir wanted. He designed himself each fabric length, and was careful never to disclose how he did it.

He kept the fabrics rolled up as carpets, each length wrapped up in a piece of white cotton cloth. They were kept in a chest. From time to time, when he was all alone, he used to unroll them delicately, one by one, and to caress them, taking great pleasure in feeling, rather than seeing, their brilliance, the richness of their hem interwoven with gold and silver threads, the masterly matching of colors, some bright, some stained, some transparent as watercolors.

The value of any garment, Nadir used to repeat to his customers, derived , most of all, from the fabric. And the fabric worth, in turn, depended on its pattern, its blend of colors, the texture and delicacy of the yarns.

But the fundamental criterion, he added, was one of affection. In fact, the longer a fabric had been loved, from its conception to the moment it had been used, the greater its value.

All things in this world, he would explain, keep the memory of how they have been treated.

Only a fabric which had been deeply loved would succeed in identifying itself with the person who would wear it, up to the point that it would adjust itself to every part of the body, sweetly, thoroughly, to caress the body and the soul.

Like a sword, which having been shaped with intense love and infinite care, ended up turning invincible.

Every year, usually in Spring, new ideas of patterns, of fillings, of yarns, of color matches, crossed his mind. Not even he himself could have explained how this happened. However, that was why people who did not need it let themselves be tempted and would order a new cloak, or a dress, or a doublet.

In the city of Kirbiz everyone was awaiting with great joy the arrival of Yalda, the Festivity of Light, which was celebrated every year when days started drawing out. It symbolized the victory of Light over Darkness.

That night all families would gather around the fire to listen to fairy tales, to eat, until dawn was breaking. There were figs, pistachios, almonds, walnuts, and fruits coated with melted sugar, a feast.

Women made sure that the fire would keep on and light up every corner of the house, in order to keep away the spirit of evil. The fire would color the ages-savored traditions, and bring people back to their families, their communities, their own selves.

It was December, of Day, the Messenger of Light.

Men and women would put on, for the occasion, new clothes. That was the reason why Nadir was so busy the previous weeks.

Also that day Nadir had got up early, as he used to, and he had gone at once to get the fabric length that Bashir, the rich merchant , had chosen to have a cloak made for him.

It was an extraordinary cloth, among the most magnificent that Nadir kept into the chest, since the reverse side, although quite different, was as splendid as the right side, to the point that one was puzzled about which side to use.

But how bewildered he was when he realized that the fabric was not there, inside the chest. He remembered quite well that he had seen it just a few days ago. Although he looked everywhere, unrolling each roll of cloth, the fabric wasn’t there.

He could not figure out how it could have happened.

He thought it over for a long time. May be, inadvertently, he had put it in some other place and therefore he ransacked everything. In vain.

It looked as if the fabric had disappeared for good.

He remained seated for a long time, stunned, while he felt a great discouragement raising inside. This could mean his ruin since Bashir, like many rich men was also quite powerful. Besides, he was very touchy.

Nadir had kept, as he always did, the fabric pattern, but by then, there were a few days to the Festivity of Light, and there’s no way he could have never reproduced it in time.

Nadir lived in the outskirts of the city.

From his house, the road wound downhill. At the road edges the meadows were cut off by small canals, into which water was flowing, clear.

There were plentiful underground springs, which were used for the countless fountains, into which corals and serpentine stones were set. Almost every house had a fountain, into which golden fishes, with large, round eyes, used to swim. In the silvery moonlight, the fishes gleamed as precious stones.

At the roads edges one could see orange, tangerine, tamarinde, pomegranate trees. At night, their intense fragrance, when it was fruit season, scented the air and would diffuse as a song.

Kirbiz was known in the entire Kingdom as the heavenly city.

The houses, all of them with a cobalt blue roof, had a metal wind vane. When the wind wheeled them, they all pointed at the same direction, as if they were asking to look at that side.

Over there, where the city came to an end, there were bamboo and azalea hedges, up to where the wood began.

Although Kirbiz was a splendid city, its inhabitants looked as if, every year, they were seized with a craving for alterations.

They would change the arrangement of some buildings, which now faced to the north-east while previously faced to the east. They would redecorate the fountain in the main square and change its fountain colors. New graftings would be tried and in every school. From far away Countries, Professors of great-renown were invited. They would teach and explain the most recent theories and their researches.

Kirbiz inhabitants would try, would test, would discuss.

This lasted some months, in Spring everyone would be dismissed, until the following year.

Nadir had decided to go out. Inside he felt he was going to stifle.

He had wandered about for a while, aimlessly. Then he had sat down on a bench and had looked around, without seeing, as he was lost in thoughts.

All of a sudden he got a start.

Standing still in front of him he saw a beggar, a man he had never seen before. He was dressed in rags, and instead of shoes he was wearing rags, tied up with leather straps. He had a grey, well-groomed beard, with some reddish bristles. He seemed to be pensive, self-absorbed, almost detached from the world reality.

He was not uttering a word, but he stared at Nadir with bright deep eyes, the eyes of someone who had seen a lot and understood a lot.

“You are worried”. He was speaking as if it were obvious.

“What is worrying you?” And while speaking, a gentle smile lit up his face and his expression was one of charm.

Nadir, himself could have not have explained why, although in front of him was a person he did not know and, what is more, a beggar, opened his heart and told him what was worrying him. It was to the point that not even the harmony and beauty of the gardens around could give him back a bit of serenity.

“Imight be able to solve your problem.” Said the beggar “For many years I have been the Grand Master of the Royal Carpets Weaving Mills at the Sublime Palace, the Prince’s residence.

My name, Sakur, still commands respect and admiration in all those who understand when a carpet is a real work of art.

Give me the pattern, and in three days I will get the fabric for you.

But I wish to warn you: a greater danger could impend over you. In the city I noticed a stranger whose features sounds vaguely familiar, but I cannot recall his name. Could very well be the Prince of Darkness himself. If he ever gets near you, beware of him and, most of all, do not listen to him, whatever he says, otherwise a terrible disaster could hit you and the entire city”.

Nadir would have liked to know more, but the beggar just added : “Some years ago I made the mistake to believe his words and you can see what it did to me.”

“But, should you succeed in getting me that fabric length in three days, Nadir said ,

how could I repay your kindness?”

“All over the world there is only one thing that I long for. To again have the title of Grand Master, but only the Prince can decide to confer it on me.”

Having said this, he departed.

Three days later, a parcel was delivered to Nadir’s home.

It contained his pattern and a roll. He unrolled it slowly, with care, and then he brought the fabric next to the window to examine it. It was exactly like his own cloth, actually, the fabric was even softer.

At Nadir’s, the Yalda Feast was coming to an end.

Many guests had already taken leave, after putting their gifts by the fireside.

It was then when the stranger arrived.

Nadir, with his expert eye, appreciated the quality of his cloak fabric, noticing that the hem was of the same anusual hue, a tone of blue, shining as a summer night. It was not up to the fabric Nadir used, but its pattern was quite interesting.

The stranger was a guest, although uninvited, and therefore Nadir asked him to take a seat on the pillows scattered around the walls and offered him dates wine and cinnamon figs.

The traveller, since this is how he introduced himself, said that he was living beyond the sea and that he had come just to meet with Nadir. In view of his marriage, he would have liked to have some clothes made by him.

They had told him, he added, that he could never find these extraordinary garments anywhere else.

Nadir was flattered.

They talked about different topics. The stranger, who had said that his name was Ahriman added, as if by chance, while relating his journey, that on the boat an old sailor had confided to him. He said that in the Kirbiz wood, the talisman of Zaroud, the celebrated architect, was hidden.

The talisman had ended up, many years ago, in the hands of the Kirbiz Royal Family, who had bought it. However, it was said that since that time the Prince himself had lost any trace of it.

“Anyhow, Ahriman added, most probably that sailor’s story was just a tall tale.”

Nadir did not sleep a wink.

What if it was true? He was wondering, forgetful of the words of Sakur, the beggar.

The next day, early in the morning, he left the city and went into the wood on horseback. It was a big forest. Inside there were clearings, ponds, springs, and age-old redwood trees followed groups of elms, chestnuts and white oaks.

The city inhabitants rarely went to the woods, especially in winter, since the sight of horses would have definitely bothered the flocks of birds which, by the thousand, used to stop there during their periodical migrations. Who knows how far they come from?

Ahriman remembered saying that the talisman, according to that sailor, lay on the bottom of the wild-geese pond. He had mentioned it in passing, as something of no importance, but while uttering those words he had stared in Nadir’s face, and the fireplace flames had lit up his eyes with strange flashes.

The name of the pond was due to the fact that the wild-geese used to come and rest on it each winter . They came from the North, and one could watch them, when the sky was cloudless. When they came down, dancing in the sky, with spread wings, so slow that they appeared to be still.

Nadir knew the wood quite well, and therefore had no difficulty in finding the pond. His mind went over Ahriman words. Sure, perhaps there was no truth in them. And yet …

That talisman was worth a fortune. He could sell it and, with all the money he would get, he could give up working as a tailor and become as rich as Bashir, the merchant.

However, granted that the talisman was really lying on the bottom of the pond, how could he retrieve it? It would certainly be impossible for Ahriman, who did not know the place, but not for him, due to his good knowledge of the wood.

And his eyes flashed with craving just thinking of it.

He knew that the ponds in the wood were fed by the same streams which reached the city. Most probably, it would be enough to lower the sluice gate, and the water would flow out leaving the pond dry.

That year the birds, coming from the North, flew very high in the sky, avoiding the Kirbiz wood.

Perhaps the wild-geese had realized, from far away, that there was no water in their pond, and were looking for another place to rest.

When Spring arrived, the city looked quieter than usual.

Not even a shadow of the fervour of changes. The jets of the fountain in the main square were still green and turquoise, as in the previous year, and it did not occur to anybody to try new grafts. On the other hand, nobody cared to invite scholars and learned men to give lectures, or to explain their researches and theories.

Kirbiz, one would say, was no more interested either in changes or in new ideas.

For Nadir this was something much more serious. He found himself unable to craft even one new fabric, a different color matching, a longer hem, a yarn he had not yet used.

The more he thought of it, the more the same patterns, the usual wefts, the same, old hues came to his mind.

At least, he thought, he would be left with the talisman, which he had carefully hidden, wrapped in a piece of velvet, behind the fireplace.

But, he said to himself, it was true that rotating the talisman and looking into it one could know everything that was happening in every corner of the Kingdom, but what would he make of it?

In order to make money he should sell it, but that could be very risky, very dangerous indeed. What if someone at the palace found out?

He decided to go and look for Sakur, the beggar. Perhaps he could advise him.

He sat down on the same bench, and waited. He knew that Sakur would come, he felt it.

And, as if by magic, after a while Sakur appeared before him. He was still dressed in rags and, as then, he was staring at him with bright, deep eyes.

“I see that you did not listen to me, since you are more anxious than before, and you have very good reasons to worry.

Ahriman, the stranger who visited you, is the Prince of Darkness in person. Your fabric disappeared because of him. Hedid it so that you would feel so distressed and worried that greed would get into your heart, for you to think that money could change your life.

You deserve punishment for the harm you did to the birds, to the city, and also for the damage you caused to yourself.

You certainly do not know that, where birds do not fly, friendship dies, light fades away, new ideas evade. And without new ideas, the world dies out.

“Go back to the wood, open the gates, and let the water flow into the pond.Then give me the talisman of Zaroud, which belongs to the Prince. Once I was foolish too.

I want to bring it back myself to the Prince and perhaps he will decide to show himself magnanimous and confer again on me the title of Grand Master.”

“I agree - said Nadir, who had understood that he had been blinded by greed. “ But you cannot appear before the Prince in such an attire. I’ll make you a suit fit for the title I’m sure, will be granted to you.”

And the suit, including a doublet and cloak, was indeed amazing, and its fabric was among the most wonderful that Nadir had ever conceived.

Sakur, in his new suit, looked like a different person. Only his geaming eyes were the same, deep and bright. His appearance was proud and his countenance expressed an inner strenght, the strenght of a person who does not give in to bad fortune.

Nadir had bought him a pair of sandals in morocco leather, with a big turquoise stone as a buckle. And a similar turquoise adorned his turban.

“Come with me, said Sakur, we will go together to the Prince and you yourself will tell him the complete truth.

The guards immediately recognized this person who, for many years, had been the Grand Master. They at once took him to the Prince Private Audiences Hall and asked him to please wait.

Sakur and Nadir found themselves alone.

They did not dare to utter a word. They felt intimidated by the place, by the vast hall with its sparkling chandeliers, its tall stained glass windows which threw spots of coloured light on the thick carpets covering every corner of the floor.

On the walls, antique miniatures. One, of great beauty and calligraphic perfection, hanging between two windows, represented two winged elves in the Kirbiz wood.

Suddenly, the big double door at the end of the room opened wide and the Prince appeared.

He looked younger than Nadir had thought, and was wearing a simple white linen tunic, smartly draped. On his head, a turban with just a red feather and a magnificent ruby, as big as a walnut.

His lineaments were aristocratic , of a stern elegance.

He looked a long time, silent, first at Sakur and then at Nadir, who had bowed low when the Prince had appeared. Then, with just a wave, he ordered the guards to depart.

“My Prince, said Sakur , many thanks for the honor of meeting with me. Nadir, whom I requested come with me and whom, probably, you don’t know, would like, by your leave, to tell you something which could be of interest to you.”

“You may talk” the Prince said.

And Sakur, so encouraged, told him everything, starting with the disappearance of his fabric, his first meeting with Sakur, the visit of Ahriman, up to the finding of the talisman.

He did not mention the idea of seizing the talisman had hovered on the edge of his mind.

At the end, Sakur took the talisman from undernath his cloak and placed it into the Prince’s hands.

The Prince took it out of its case and scrutinized it carefully. An ineffable smile, more and more pronounced, appeared on his face.

“I can see that I was mistaken about you, Sakur. Now I’m grateful to both of you. And therefore you, Sakur, as from to-day, will get again your position of Grand Master. As for you, Nadir, I appoint you Head of the Court Tailorings.

If you like, you may live here, and you may carry on your previous job.

The following winter the birds of passage would come again to rest in the Kirbiz wood, in Spring

new ideas would resume bouncing around in Nadir’s mind, and feverish activities would go on once again in the city of Kirbiz.