An English translation of a long Şahmaran (serpent-queen) tale from the Turkish “Binbir Gece Masalları” (Arabian Nights) tradition: a lazy boy named Hasip Keramüddin is abandoned in a honey well by his friends, falls into the underground realm of the snake queen, and is drawn into a chain of nested adventures — Belkıya’s search for the Prophet foretold in the Torah, the seal of Solomon, and Prince Cihanşah’s shipwreck and marriage to a fairy — before Şahmeran’s own capture and death bring the tale to its close.
ℹ️ This is an English translation of a Şahmaran tale from the Turkish archive of Binbir Gece Masalları (the Arabian Nights). The Turkish original is available here: Binbir Gece Masalları’ndan Bir Şahmaran Masalı.
Many who follow me and this site know how long I have worked on Şahmaran, and how hard I have tried to bring her many tellings together. Şahmaran is really a great body of story that lives inside many cultures and many tales at once. We do not know exactly when or where this very old tale was first told, but we do find written versions of Şahmaran in a number of different texts — foremost among them the Binbir Gece Masalları (the Arabian Nights). So today I bring you a long — a very, very long — Şahmaran tale. Let me say up front: what you will read here is, in a sense, a summary of the summary of the Şahmaran material I have spent something like ten years gathering. If you would like to hear the Şahmaran tales I have collected, I look forward to seeing you at the monthly “Muzip Masal Cini ile Şahmaran Masalları” evening I hold at İstanbul İmpro — the event link is for those curious.
Without further ado, I leave you with the Şahmaran story from the Binbir Gece Masalları as compiled by Selami Münir Yurdatap. Feel free to leave your questions for me in the comments.
A ŞAHMARAN TALE FROM THE ARABIAN NIGHTS1
There once lived, in a certain city, a man named Danyal, a physician2 of great learning. In time he fell gravely ill, and though he was treated, no cure could be found for him. Weak and worn out, he called his family to his side, and said to his wife, who was then with child:
“I see now that I am living out the last days of my life. If the child to be born is a boy, name him Hasip Keramüddin. When he is grown, if he asks you, ‘What did my father leave us?’, give him the five papers that remain of my books. Let him read them — that alone will be enough to make him one of the great scholars of his age.”
Not long after this, Danyal passed away, amid his wife’s tears.
Not a month had gone by before the poor woman gave birth to a son. By then she had already begun to forget the sorrow of her husband’s death, lost in the joy and happiness of having a son.
The woman did everything a mother could for her son’s upbringing, whom she named Hasip Keramüddin. When he turned seven, she sent him to the neighborhood school. But though the years passed, he learned nothing there — in this he took after his father not at all.
Seeing that her son was not going to amount to anything at his books, the mother took him out of school and set him to learn a trade, but there too he showed nothing but clumsiness. He paid no heed to the advice or the threats of either his mother or his master.
Seeing this, the neighbors gave the mother this advice:
“Your son wants neither to study nor to learn a trade. It isn’t right for him to go on idling like this, either. Buy him an axe and a couple of donkeys. Let him go with the woodcutters of the neighborhood, cut wood in the forest, and sell it in the city. That way he’ll be some help to you, and he’ll be saved from wandering about like a vagabond.”
The mother relayed the neighbors’ advice to her son, and Hasip Keramüddin raised no objection to the proposal. That same day he went to the market with one of his friends and bought two donkeys and an axe.
The next day he set out with his friends for the forest, cut wood there like the rest of them, loaded it onto his donkeys and carried it into the market. He sold the wood and gave the money to his mother. Having settled into this work, the young man began earning his living as a woodcutter.
Seeing that the night had come to an end, Şehrazat3 broke off her tale here. The next night, at her husband’s wish, she began telling it again.
The Honey Well
One day, as Hasip and a few of his friends were cutting wood in the mountains as usual, it suddenly began to pour with rain, as if poured from a jug. They took shelter at once in a cave nearby.
Out of boredom, Hasip began digging at the ground with the stick in his hand. Before long, a round marble stone appeared where he had been digging. Hasip showed this to his friends at once. They said:
“Let’s lift this stone out of the ground and see what’s underneath it.”
They dug around the stone and pried it up. Underneath they found a well filled to the brim with honey. Overjoyed, they hardly knew what to do with themselves. At last one of them said:
“It seems God has spared us from woodcutting for a while. Let’s carry this honey into the city and sell it, and divide the money among us.”
They all agreed this was a fine plan. Sending one of their number into the city for a few skins, they filled them with the honey and carried it to the market. Seeing that the honey sold at a good price, they filled the skins again the next day and sold that batch too. In this way, before long, they had emptied the well of honey.
Only one or two skins’ worth remained at the very bottom of the well. To bring it up, they tied a rope around Hasip’s waist and lowered him down. Hasip filled the last of the honey into the skins and sent them up on the rope to his waiting friends. Then he asked them to pull him up in turn.
At that, an evil thought took hold of them: he would claim a share, cause them trouble — better to leave him in the well. So they decided among themselves to abandon him there.
They quickly sealed the mouth of the well with that same round marble stone, covered it over with earth so it would not be seen, and left the poor boy behind.
When Hasip’s friends came down into the city, they sold one of the donkeys, and, loading the other with wood, brought it to his mother. When she saw her son’s donkey with his friends but no sign of him, an evil suspicion crossed her mind. Fighting down her fear and alarm, she asked the boys:
“Where is my son?” One of his friends answered, with a show of grief:
“Auntie, on our way to gather wood, one of your son’s donkeys wandered down into Kurtlar Deresi4. When Hasip went to fetch it, a hungry wolf suddenly sprang out and tore the poor boy and his animal to pieces before our very eyes. We loaded the wood onto the remaining donkey and came back.”
Hearing this news, the woman burst into bitter weeping. At one point a thought crossed her mind:
“My late husband… he told me my son Hasip would live many long years. And yet he has died so young. How can I believe it?”
Thanks to Hasip, the young woodcutters — each of them now grown rich — did not forget, now and then, to help his mother.
But let us return now to what became of Hasip…
Morning was coming again. The King asked that the tale continue the next evening, and Şehrazat, taking up the story where she had left it, continued as follows the next evening:
Şahmeran
Hasip had no difficulty understanding that his friends had left him behind in the well. There was nothing to be done but submit to his fate. He set himself to think of some way out of that dark, damp place, and to pray to Almighty God for help. As he sat there, he heard a small rustling sound beside the well wall, and then saw a bit of earth fall away. He watched the spot the sound had come from. A tiny opening appeared, and out of it crept a scorpion, making straight for him.
He killed the venomous, harmful creature at once. Then, curious about the hole the scorpion had come out of, he examined it, and, wishing to see further inside, began widening it with his knife. Seeing light seep through, he was overjoyed.
Working harder still, he widened the little opening enough for a man to pass through. Then he put his head through it and went inside. The ground within was level. He took a step or two forward, and found before him an iron door, the key still in its lock. He opened it. Putting his head through, he looked inside. The sight that met him was extraordinarily beautiful. This was a place like paradise itself. All manner of trees, flowers of a thousand and one colors and scents, and, in the midst of it all, a great pool caught the eye.
In the middle of the pool stood a small mound, and upon it was set a coffin-like structure made of emerald and adorned with precious stones. Around the pool stood a great many golden chairs.
Hasip gazed at this dazzling sight for a few minutes, and then, plucking up his courage, went through the iron door into the garden. Boldly, he sat down upon the throne set in the middle of the pool, and said to himself:
“Ah, God — if only this place were mine,” he thought.
After a while, lost in such daydreams, he fell asleep. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a fearsome sight.
On the chairs around the pool sat all manner of snakes, hissing in a way that set the nerves on edge and struck terror into anyone who heard it.
Seeing this, Hasip leapt up in fright. With his eyes half open he watched this hair-raising scene once more. Just then he heard a sound like a peal of thunder.
At the sound, the snakes sitting on the chairs rose to their feet, as if preparing to receive someone.
Before long, a great dragon approached the throne where Hasip sat. Upon its head it bore a tray adorned with jewels, and on the tray lay a small white-bodied snake with a face like a human being’s.
When the dragon reached the throne, it set the tray down there. The snake upon it then spoke, addressing Hasip:
“O honored guest, welcome — let no fear come into your heart. This throne is one of God’s endless bounties. I am the ruler of all the snakes you see here. My true name is Yemliha5 — but everyone calls me Şahmeran. No harm will come to you from me, or from any of the creatures in my service.”
Then they brought all manner of fruit on trays of pure gold. Şahmeran set the fruit trays before her guest Hasip and said:
“Please — let us eat together.”
Hasip, who was very hungry, ate a great deal of the fruit. A little later Şahmeran asked him:
“O son of Adam! Tell me — how, and with what purpose, did you come to this place of ours?”
Hasip, teary-eyed with fear, told her everything from the beginning: how he had gone into that well thinking it his own father’s storehouse of honey, and how his friends had abandoned him there.
“Alas! Hasip — that well was my own storehouse of honey.”
Hasip tried to console her:
“Let no thought of your being discovered here trouble you. Since those who know of this well are the very ones who threw me into it, and their own guilt would come to light, they are not likely to come near it easily. Do not trouble yourself over it for nothing.”
Şahmeran shook her head:
“Brother Hasip,” she said, “man is a strange creature, full of tricks and deceit. Believe me, when I first saw you I was as startled as you were at seeing me — for I once suffered greatly at the hands of a son of Adam. I was caught and imprisoned; they very nearly killed me. Only because my hour had not yet come did I escape with my life, by the narrowest of margins. And yet I will trust what you say, and believe there is no danger in you.”
Hasip then said to Şahmeran:
“I am glad that you trust me. But I have one request. I have told you everything that has happened to me, while you have told me nothing of your own story. Won’t you tell it to me?”
Şahmeran smiled, and, wishing to grant Hasip’s wish, began to relate her own adventure:
Şahmeran’s Adventure
“O Hasip! Once, in Egypt, there lived among the Children of Israel6 a very learned ruler named Yuşa. One day, reading the Torah, he came upon writings about the fine character, the high upbringing and the virtues of the Messenger of God who was to come at the end of time. ‘If the Children of Israel hear of this,’ he thought, ‘they will strive to become his followers — yet his coming is still so many years off.’ So he took this writing out of the Torah, placed it in a silver box, sealed it, and hid it away in a small room, walling it about thickly.
A few years later this ruler died. In his place his young son Belkıya ascended the throne. One day, this young ruler, while walking through the treasury, noticed a small room walled about with thick masonry. He had it opened at once and searched inside. Finding the box, he opened it, and read the writing concerning the Prophet Muhammad, who was to come at the end of time. From that day forward, an undying love and devotion for this Prophet began to burn in his heart. To reach him, he gave up his crown and his throne, left his younger brother Kahir in his place, and set out alone on his travels.
After a long journey he came to the seaside. Many ships were there, making ready to sail. He asked one of the ship’s captains where they were bound. Learning that they were sailing for the towns along the coast under the rule of Damascus, he boarded one of the ships at once.
The ship set sail that day, its sails filling with wind. A few days later it put in at a deserted island. Since the food the passengers had brought was running low, they went ashore to gather fruit from the island. Belkıya went along with them. At one point, grown very tired, he fell asleep beneath a tree. When he opened his eyes some time later, he could see no sign of his fellow travelers anywhere about — the ship, too, was long gone. Realizing he had been left alone on this deserted island, he grew distressed and began talking to himself:
‘O God, what am I to do now, alone on this island with no one else upon it?’
At last, hoping to find some way of escape, he began to explore the island from end to end. He came upon many snakes. When he reached the shore, he caught sight of a small boat among the rocks.
This boat had once belonged to a great ship that had sunk somewhere in those waters; the waves had carried it, little by little, to this spot.
Trusting himself to God, Belkıya climbed into the boat and put out to sea. Carried this way and that for several days by the wind and the currents, the boat at last drew close to the island where we ourselves lived. He drew his boat up in a safe place and came ashore. He had gone only a step or two when he came upon a great many snakes and dragons. I myself was at that moment riding upon the back of a dragon as large as an elephant. Seeing us, he took fright and turned to flee. I called after him at once:
‘O son of Adam, I am Şahmeran — these are my subjects. Why are you afraid? They will do you no harm.’
These words gave him courage. He drew nearer to us. I asked him:
‘How did you manage to come to this land, which no man may enter? Who are you?’
Belkıya told me his story from the beginning — how, in the Torah, he had come upon writing about the coming Prophet, and had fallen in love with him though he had not yet been born, and had given up his crown and set out to find him.
Once I understood that he was in love with him, I did not wish to do him harm. I said to him only this:
‘I would not easily set you free from this place — but out of reverence for the Prophet you seek, I release you. Go now, get into your boat. If you keep to the south, you will reach the shores of Damascus. I ask only two things of you. If ever you should reach the Messenger of God who is to come at the end of time, give him my greeting, and kiss his hand for me. Second — tell no one that we have met here.’
Belkıya gave his word to keep both these conditions and got into his boat. After a long and dangerous voyage, he reached the coast of Damascus, and from there passed on to Jerusalem. Wandering through that land where so many prophets had once lived and taught, he made the acquaintance of a great scholar named Affan, a man much given to the study of hidden and secret things, who had set his heart on obtaining the ring of the Prophet Solomon7.
By means of Solomon’s ring, all beasts, birds and spirits could be made to obey one’s will. According to the old books this scholar had studied, Solomon, after his death, had been carried to an island beyond seven seas and seated, as though he still lived, upon a golden throne, the ring still upon his finger. Whoever obtained that ring would rule the whole world. These same books said there was only one way to cross those seven seas: one had to find a certain plant which, rubbed on the soles of the feet, allowed a man to walk upon the water without sinking.
When Affan heard that Belkıya, in his travels, had seen many strange things, he said to him:
‘I too have a purpose like yours. I have spent half my life searching for ways to reach it. I wish to find the Prophet Solomon and obtain the enchanted ring on his finger. It lies on a small island beyond seven seas. There is a certain plant that makes crossing the sea easy — whoever rubs its juice on his feet can walk on the sea as if on dry land. To find this plant, we must first catch that Şahmeran you happened upon. If you help me obtain her, you too will reach the goal you seek — for once we have Solomon’s ring, we can do anything by its power. We could, for instance, find the water of eternal life and drink it. Then we would be delivered from death, and would live to meet the Prophet of the end times.’
Belkıya, forgetting the promise he had given me, agreed to help Affan in this.
From that day the two of them began to prepare for the journey. Affan had an iron cage made, and took with him a bottle of milk and a bottle of wine. Belkıya, for his part, saw to the fitting-out of a boat.
At last, their preparations complete, they put out to sea, and after a short voyage arrived at the island where I lived.
Without letting me see them, they set themselves up on the island. Affan set the iron cage open, at a spot I always passed by, and placed the milk and the wine inside it in separate vessels. Then the two of them hid themselves away. I walked, on my own two feet, straight into the trap they had set — I entered the cage. First I drank the milk, then the wine, and, made drunk by them, I stayed where I was. Seeing this, Affan came at once, shut the cage, and carried me down to the ship where his companion waited on the shore.
When, some time later, I came to my senses and found myself inside a cage, I said:
‘O you who have caught me and mean to carry me off to some unknown place — who are you? What do you want from me?’
Affan’s harsh voice answered:
‘O Şahmeran! Fear nothing from us. There is a certain thing we are seeking. Once we find it, we will set you free.’
At this I said:
‘Then tell me what it is you seek. Perhaps I can already give you some information about it.’
Affan said:
‘We are searching for a plant whose juice, rubbed on the foot, allows a man to walk on the sea. If we find it, we mean to cross the seven seas to the island of the Prophet Solomon and obtain his ring, and by its power rule over the whole world,’ he answered.
On learning of this great ambition of theirs, I came fully to my senses, and called out to Belkıya, who stood beside Affan:
‘Is this the promise you gave me? They were not wrong who said no good comes of doing kindness to men.’
There was nothing more to be done. I submitted to my fate and set out with them. Along the road we traveled, the plants and trees themselves spoke, telling what ailments each could cure. At last, after some forty days of wandering, we came to the place they sought — its soil fragrant, its trees and greenery of surpassing beauty, its fruit beyond compare, its very stones nothing but ruby, diamond and emerald. This was indeed the place.
The Prophet Solomon lay there, in a cave, and it did not take them long to find it. No sooner had they taken their first steps inside than they were met with a light so dazzling it near blinded them. They went in. Facing the entrance of the cave stood a great throne, gold and set about with every kind of precious stone.
Upon the throne lay a young man, handsome and altogether majestic; upon his chest lay his left hand, and on its little finger was a ring set with a red ruby, whose light alone was enough to fill the whole cave.
Seeing this, Belkıya was struck with wonder. Affan, beside himself with joy and excitement, took Belkıya by the arm:
‘H—’ [he began, but nothing could be understood over the sound of Affan reciting his incantations continuously]. Nothing happened to Affan as he went on reciting his prayers without pause. Just as he stretched out his hand to draw the ring from the Prophet Solomon’s finger, a terrible voice, like a peal of thunder, rang out:
‘Do not touch that ring!’
Affan, badly startled by this voice, lost his place in the incantation he was reciting, and was consumed to ash by fire that burst from a dragon’s mouth.
Seeing this, Belkıya fell down in fright and fainted. When he came to himself some time later, he saw what had become of his companion Affan, and, beside the throne, a giant of a man standing there. Just as he was about to flee, the man asked:
‘Who are you, and what are you doing here?’ Belkıya answered:
‘I am the son of the king of Egypt. I heard, in the Torah, praise of the Prophet who is to come at the end of time. I fell in love with him. While wandering in search of him, I made the acquaintance of the man you see there. He deceived me and brought me here. I had no other purpose.’
At this the giant turned to Belkıya:
‘Well then, my son,’ he said. ‘Because your intentions were pure, no harm has come to you. It will be a very long time yet before the one you seek is born.’
Belkıya wished to thank him for this, but the man vanished all at once.
Şahmeran’s Escape
They then found the plant they had been seeking, and rejoiced greatly. At one point Affan turned to me:
‘O Şahmeran, thanks to you my task is done! I will set you free.’ I answered him with this request:
‘Since you mean to set me free, at least carry me back and leave me where you found me.’
They found this a fair request, and did as I asked. Once free, I said to them:
‘There is one thing you have forgotten. Among the plants you sought there is also one that grants a man life everlasting. Had you gathered that too, your work would truly be complete. And let me give you this counsel besides: do not attempt to take Solomon’s ring. It is bound about with a powerful spell — you would be burned.’
I left them there, full of regret and astonishment, and made my way back to my dragons, who had been waiting for me anxiously. When I told them what had happened, they said:
‘Had we learned of this in time, we would have torn Affan and Belkıya limb from limb.’
We began speaking of moving to some other place, to be free of the mischief of the sons of Adam, and at last we came to this very place where you now find yourself.
And even here we have not entirely escaped the tricks and schemes of mankind. He has caught and bent to his will the strongest of beasts, the fiercest of birds, the most elusive of fish. However strong we ourselves may be, we still fear him for this.
“O Şahmeran,” Hasip said, “you say yourself that there is no escaping the wickedness of the sons of Adam. Then, so that no harm may come to you from me, set me free upon the earth, and let me be reunited with my mother.”
Şahmeran smiled:
“That is not for your sake — it is for the sake of Belkıya, for whose doing I was once shut up in that iron cage for forty days.”
“Yes,” said Hasip, “but had he not gone to Jerusalem and told Affan of you, that disaster would never have befallen you.”
“O my son Hasip — you have at last confessed, with your own mouth, that the race of Adam cannot keep a secret, nor holds faith of great account. Were it not so, I—”
Six Years Pass
Hasip, spending his summers on Mount Qaf8 and his winters in Şahmeran’s old dwelling, kept her company for six years. In all that time he made no attempt to reach the world above.
And yet his longing for his mother, his relatives, his friends — and above all for the land of his birth — grew so strong that whenever it came to mind he felt he might go mad. His color grew pale; day by day, worn down by the ache of it, he grew thinner.
Şahmeran noticed this, and felt pity for the young man. One day she called him to her side and said:
“Hasip, you have truly grown weary of this place. You wish to return to your country. What can I do — I am unable to help you in this. But let me tell you what became of Belkıya and Affan after they parted from me — perhaps it will please you, and ease your sorrow for a while.”
“That is exactly what I have been wondering about,” said Hasip, and Şahmeran began to tell it:
What Became of Belkıya and Affan
“For a time I lost track of Belkıya, but some years later I learned that he and Affan had returned to Egypt. I sent one of the peris9 in my service there to learn of him…”
[Şahmeran then related how Belkıya, after further travels, was shipwrecked and came ashore in a strange land, where he encountered beings unlike men, and was at last brought before the ruler of the devs10, who received him with honor.]
The dev-king said: “This horse will carry you to my vizier Ömer’s country, and from there you shall be sent up to the world of men.”
Belkıya thanked the dev-king and took his leave. Before long the winged horse rose into the air. In a single hour it covered a distance of six months’ journey, and brought him to the land of Vizier Ömer.
The vizier was astonished to see one of the sons of Adam arrive on his king’s own horse, and hurried out to meet him. Belkıya greeted the approaching vizier with a smiling face, told him everything, and gave him the king’s greetings.
Vizier Ömer kept Belkıya as his guest for a day or two, showing him the greatest honor and hospitality. Then he had him mounted on another horse and sent on to the lands where men dwell.
When Şahmeran’s telling of Belkıya’s story reached this point, Hasip said:
“O queen of the snakes! I beg you — do for me what Vizier Ömer did for Belkıya. Send me back among mankind. I swear a solemn oath to you that I will never speak your name, nor tell anyone where you dwell.”
The young man both pleaded and wept bitterly as he said this — so much so that even the dragons around Şahmeran took pity on him. All of them together began to plead with her:
“Let this young man go free. The poor thing has been miserable here so long. Who knows how worried his mother must be! His weeping has scorched our very hearts. Let him swear to you that once he is among men he will say nothing, and then set him free. Whatever fate decrees will happen regardless.”
Hearing the dragons plead in this way, Şahmeran shook her head, then, looking at Hasip, said: “Ah, if only you knew…”
A few more days went by. In that time, Hasip’s eyes had turned red raw from weeping. His color had faded; his strength was failing him.
Seeing this, Şahmeran, wishing to console him, said:
“My son Hasip, let me tell you the rest of Belkıya’s story, so that your sorrow may be eased a little.”
Since Hasip was greatly moved by this story and wished to hear the rest of it, he said: “I would be glad if you told it. My ears are yours.”
And so the queen of the snakes began to tell the rest of Belkıya’s story:
Belkıya and the Weeping Man
“After parting from Ömer, Belkıya came to a great mountain. Without lingering there long, he put to sea on a raft he had made, and drew close to one of the nearby islands. Wandering about there, he came upon a young man weeping between two graves, his eyes like two fountains. Belkıya went up to him, greeted him, and asked whose graves these were, and why he wept.
The young man drew a deep breath and answered: ‘First tell me your own story — for mine is a long one, and full of sorrow.’
So Belkıya related his own adventure to the young man from the beginning. When he had finished, the young man in turn began to tell his own story:
The Story of Cihanşah
“…A year after that, the daughter of the King of Horasan arrived in our country with a great caravan, and was welcomed by Taygamus Şah11 with festivities the like of which had never before been seen. The following week the wedding took place. A year after that I was born.
My father rejoiced greatly at having a child, and had the city celebrate for three days and three nights, and gave me the name Cihanşah.
When I turned fourteen, he appointed special tutors and governesses for me, and spared no effort at all for my upbringing and education.
Within three or four years I had learned a great deal. My father, being by then quite advanced in years, one day called together the notables of the kingdom and told them he meant to step down from the throne and spend the last days of his life in worship; he announced that he was leaving the affairs of government and the administration of the realm in my hands.
From that day I sat upon my father’s throne and began to rule our land.
One day, wishing to amuse myself a little, I set out to hunt with a company of guards. We were caught, on the open sea, in a storm that raged for seven days and seven nights without let-up. At last the storm died down, and the raft we were on carried us to a shore we did not recognize.
We went ashore at once. We killed a deer we had hunted and roasted it over a fire we lit; since we had not eaten for several days, we ate it with tremendous appetite.
A little later we took up our weapons and began to walk. After covering a good distance, we suddenly came upon two beings unlike any men we had seen. Each had two eyes, one arm and one ear.
As we approached them in astonishment, they let out cries like birds of prey and fled from us in fright. We gave chase. Before long we came upon thousands more of these same creatures. Seeing us chasing their fellows, they all attacked us at once. Realizing we could not stand against so great a number, we had no choice but to turn and flee.
Before they could reach us, we threw ourselves onto the raft and pushed off with all speed. A little later a fierce wind rose, and after it a great storm broke out.
By now we had grown used to such things, and we waited out this dangerous adventure with a certain composure. For five days and five nights we were tossed about among the waves in this way. On the fifth day land came into sight. Drawing close, we went ashore.
A little way off stood a great fortress, gate of iron, walls of pure white marble. Seeing no sign of any living soul about it, I sent one of my men to look, and told him to find out whether anyone was within. He went, and returned a little later:
‘The fortress is empty. I could see no one at all,’ he said.
At this, all of us, full of curiosity, went there together. Inside the fortress were beautiful houses, all of marble, a thousand and one kinds of fruit trees and flowering gardens, and waters running clear as crystal.
We entered a building whose size and construction resembled a palace. We passed into its great hall, set around a wide and airy courtyard. Here stood a throne made of aloeswood.
At my men’s urging, I went up and sat upon the throne. They in turn took their places on the divans to my right and left.
As we sat there, speaking of the strange state of this deserted city, a troop of monkeys suddenly came into the hall where we sat and surrounded us.
It was clear from their manner that they meant us no harm. Bowing their heads to the ground, they came up one by one, kissed the throne on which I sat, and prostrated themselves. Some of them went and brought all kinds of fruit for me and my men.
Once we had filled our stomachs with that delicious, beautiful fruit, the monkeys brought us seven dogs the size of mules, and signaled for us to mount them.
We raised no objection, and mounted these dogs; guided by the monkeys, we set out on our way.
At last the monkeys brought us to the edge of a mountain. There they showed us a great inscribed stone. On it was written:
‘O son of Adam who comes here — I was once a ruler. Like the Prophet Solomon, animals, birds and every kind of creature obeyed me. One day I came to this place, and made the monkeys…'”
[The stone’s inscription continued, warning of what lay beyond:] “…on the other side lies the land of the ants. There you will find ants the size of dogs. They tear a man to pieces and devour him. No traveler who passes that way returns home alive!”
Reading this, I was troubled. But there was nothing to be done — what comes, must be borne. A little later the monkeys took me and my guards down to the riverbank. A little further off, the land of the ghouls12 could be seen.
They pointed toward it and made signs that the ghouls would soon attack. And indeed, before long, the ghouls saw the monkeys and charged. Seeing the monkeys cry out in fear, my men and I at once took up our bows and advanced upon the ghouls. The arrows we loosed killed a great many of them.
The rest fled. At this the monkeys, delighted at our success, threw themselves at our hands to show their gratitude and their loyalty. That night we returned to the palace and slept soundly. The next day I told my men to load the raft with food, water and the rest, and make ready to escape from that place.
First I got the monkeys thoroughly drunk. They all fell into a stupor and lay there. Taking advantage of this, we filled our stomachs well, then mounted our horses and crossed the border.
By sunrise we had reached the land of the ants. These dog-sized ants attacked us the moment they saw us. Before my very eyes they tore one or two of my men to pieces and killed them.
My surviving men and I barely managed to flee and hide ourselves. For some time we traveled by night and hid by day, covering a fair distance in this way. At last we came to a great desert. Once across it, the ants appeared before us again. These too fell upon my men and killed the rest of them. I myself, by a hair’s breadth — by something like a miracle — escaped from their clutches.
Once clear of the land of the ants, after a long and exhausting journey, I came within sight of a great city. But I could find no way to enter it, for a great river lay before me, and there was no bridge across it anywhere. As I followed the riverbank searching for a crossing, a man approached from the other side and, by whatever means, brought me across. He took me in as his guest, and told me how the city’s own river ran dry every Saturday by some strange working of fate — he and the other townsmen, he said, had once been under orders forbidding them to fish on the Sabbath, so, working around it, they cast their nets from Friday evening and waited until the river ran dry on Saturday, so as to gather in a great catch all at once.
The Diamond Mountain
Having told me all this, my host took me the next day to his shop in the market and introduced me to a number of merchants and tradesmen. All of them took a close interest in my story. I asked them what I ought to do to return to my own country. They told me:
‘Once every two years, a caravan comes here from Yemen. Apart from that, we have no contact with the outside world at all.’ Hearing this, I had no choice but to wait for that caravan.
One day, as I was walking through the market, I heard a town crier calling out:
‘Whoever wants to earn a beautiful slave girl and a thousand gold pieces, let him come to me!’
Since I badly needed both of the things the crier was promising, I was overjoyed. He took me to a merchant. The merchant said:
‘I will give you a thousand gold pieces and a beautiful slave girl, on the condition that you do exactly as I ask.’
I agreed to this. The merchant then killed a camel, slit open its belly, cleaned out its insides, and turned to me:
‘You are to hide yourself inside this camel’s carcass. Before long great eagles will come and carry the carcass you are in up to the mountaintop. Once you feel it has been set down, climb out at once. The birds will see you and take fright and fly off. Then gather up the precious stones you find on that mountaintop and throw them down to me. After that, you can climb down easily enough — for going down is not as hard as going up. That is the whole of the task.’
Though I found this proposal a hard one, I did not object, since I had already given my word. I followed the merchant’s instructions and got inside the camel’s carcass. Before long I felt myself being lifted into the air. I understood that eagles had come and carried off the carcass I was inside. Though I came near to suffocating for want of air, I bore it patiently. At last I realized I had reached the summit of the mountain. I climbed out of the carcass at once. Sure enough, the birds, seeing me, took fright and scattered.
I gathered up the precious stones I found there and threw them down to the merchant waiting below. He filled his saddlebags with them, and then, leaving me behind alone, mounted his horse and rode off toward the city.
Left utterly alone on that mountaintop, surrounded by fearsome precipices, I began to think of some means of escape. Better, I thought, to risk every kind of danger and climb down some cliff face than to die of hunger up here, or become food for birds of prey.
Wandering about, I found a slope that was not too steep. Holding onto the rocks, I let myself down. My clothes were torn to shreds. My hands and my knees were covered in blood. Faint and exhausted, I managed at last to reach the bottom.
Once I had recovered myself a little, I began walking. After a while I came upon a great building. I found its gate and went in. An old man received me. When I told him who I was and what had happened to me, he took pity on me and let me stay.
The Fairy Princess
One day, out of curiosity, I opened a door in that place he had told me not to open. Beyond it lay a beautiful, delightful garden. At the far end of it stood a golden pavilion, before which flowed a stream of water. Beside me too stood a golden throne. I began walking about in this beautiful, paradise-like place. Just then three white doves descended from the sky to where I stood. I hid myself so as not to be seen by them. When the doves reached the edge of the pool, they shook themselves, cast off their feathered garments, and became three beautiful young women. At once they threw themselves into the pool and began to bathe.
The youngest of the three stood out above all for her extraordinary beauty. Never in my life had I seen such a lovely creature. I fell in love with her at once. My eyes darkened; my head began to spin. At last I fell down in a faint.
When I gathered my senses again, I found the old man standing over me. He looked at me meaningfully and reproached me:
‘Did I not tell you not to open that door?’
‘It is done now,’ I said. ‘I have already paid for it. I have fallen hopelessly for the youngest of them. Who are these girls?’
The old man shook his head:
‘My son, they are the daughters of the king of the peris. Once a year they come here to bathe, then return to their own land. To win one of them is no easy thing — but out of pity for you, I will teach you a trick. These girls will come again next year. When they do, take the youngest one’s feathered garment and hide it — then she will not be able to leave. She will be forced to come to you. I will then step in between you and perform your marriage.’
Consoled by these words of the old man, I waited a full year. At last the time for the fairy-girls’ return drew near. I hid myself somewhere in the garden. Before long they appeared in the sky. Slowly they came down to the edge of the pool and undressed. Just as they were about to finish bathing and come out, I took the youngest one’s garment and hid it away somewhere. However hard the girls searched for their sister’s garment, they could not find it. At last the two elder ones, seeing they could do nothing more, flew off and left their little sister behind against her will…
The old man then came to her side. He performed our marriage. So that we might hold our wedding among my own family, I gave her back her winged garment. She put it on, took me with her, and rose into the air.
Before we parted from him, the old man said to me: ‘Once you reach home, whatever you do, do not give her back her winged garment.’ Morning was breaking once more.
The fairy princess and I flew on together and reached my own country. We were welcomed with a great ceremony. A few days later our wedding was held. On our wedding night, my fear having by then quite left me, I left my wife’s wings lying out in the open.
Seeing this, the fairy princess took advantage of my carelessness, put on her wings, and flew out through the open window. Realizing what had happened, I ran to the window and saw her standing on the roof of the building opposite. She called out to me:
‘I cannot live with you without my father’s blessing. I am going to him now, to win his heart. If you love me, follow me to Gevhernegin Kalesi13.’
Having said this, the fairy princess flew away. I fell down in a faint. When I came to myself, I found my father, my mother and the men of the palace gathered around me.
Gevhernegin Kalesi
[Cihanşah’s telling of his own story continued: unable to bear the separation, he set out once more, was again smuggled up the diamond mountain hidden inside a camel’s carcass — this time by a merchant who did not recognize him — and, once freed at the summit, made his way down to a lodge kept by an old man named Şah Mürg14, master of the birds.]
The old man, seeing me, was struck with astonishment. When I told him what had happened to me, he said:
“My son, did I not warn you to guard the girl’s wings carefully? You did not heed my word.”
I fell at the old man’s feet and begged his forgiveness.
Setting out from there, I walked on and, before long, arrived at a great fortress, one side built of gold and the other of silver. No sooner had I set foot inside than a number of strangely dressed people appeared before me and took me off to a prison cell.
This place, it turned out, was Gevhernegin Kalesi itself. After fleeing from me, the fairy princess had returned home and told her father everything — telling him, too, that I loved her dearly and would surely come after her.
For this reason the king of the peris had given this order to the guards of the fortress: “Whoever comes among you from the race of men, seize him without fail, and bring him before me.”
The peris seized me and threw me into prison, then brought me before their king. He questioned me closely. I hid nothing, and confessed the whole truth.
The king of the peris, full of wonder at my devotion and my faithfulness, at once summoned his daughter and reunited the two of us.
For a time we lived a happy life there. At last I began to long for my homeland. I told my father-in-law I wished to return to my own country. He agreed, and had my wife and me sent home on a golden litter, together with rich gifts…
The Two Graves
[Cihanşah’s story drew toward its close: some time after their return, his beloved wife fell ill and died.] “‘It cannot be helped — may you live long,’ [they told me,] and I buried my wife there. This grave you see is hers. I shall stay here, at her side, to the end of my days. Beside it lies an empty grave. When I draw my last breath, I shall be buried there, next to her.”
When Cihanşah had finished telling his story, Belkıya said:
“Your story is truly a sorrowful one. And yet — the living cannot go on dying with the dead. Come, let us go together to some place where men dwell.” But Cihanşah would not accept this offer. Belkıya then said:
“Then at least show me the way back to my own country” — and Cihanşah, granting this request, told him the way.
Belkıya set out that very day. After covering a good distance, he came to the palace of Hızır İlyas15. He asked the gatekeeper there for directions to Egypt.
The gatekeeper smiled and said: “Egypt is a year’s journey from here. Wait for Hızır — he will bring you there easily.”
A little later Hızır İlyas himself arrived. When Belkıya told him his story, Hıyır took him by the hand and, in a single instant, carried him to Egypt, and set him down before his own palace.
Hasip’s Return
Here Şahmeran’s telling of Belkıya’s story came to its end.
True to the promise he had made to Şahmeran, Hasip, once returned to the world above, told his mother nothing of where he had been or what had happened to him. He asked her only how many years he had been gone. She answered:
“My son, I have not seen you for exactly two years.” Hasip was amazed to hear this. A little later, as they spoke of this and that, he asked after his friends. His mother told him they had all become merchants, and that they came by now and then to help her.
Hasip said he wished to see them. His mother went at once to the homes of her son’s friends and gave them the good news that Hasip had returned safe and sound.
His friends said to one another: “Alas! Now Hasip will complain of us to the ruler. We had better give him some money and win back his good will” — and, taking a sum of money with them, they went to Hasip’s house. Coming face to face with him, they embraced him and begged his forgiveness for the wrong they had done him, and gave him the money and gifts they had brought.
Hasip’s friends were burning with curiosity, and asked him where he had been all this time. But the young man gave no answer, and told them nothing at all.
The King’s Illness
[Some time later, Gerezban Şah16, the ruler of that land, fell gravely ill with a chronic disease. His sorcerer-vizier, Şemhur, told him that only the flesh of Şahmeran could cure him. To find her, the vizier had the whole population of the city sent to the public baths free of charge, with orders that whoever emerged from washing with white spots on their body — the mark left on one who had dwelt among Şahmeran’s kind — be seized and brought before the king at once.]
Following the king’s order, the people of the city began going to the baths in turn. At last Hasip’s turn came. Though he tried every way he could think of to avoid going, he did not succeed, and was forced, against his will, to go.
Once Hasip had bathed, white spots began to appear all over his body. Seeing this, the officers seized him at once by the collar and brought him before the king.
Gerezban Şah received Hasip graciously and seated him at his side. But Vizier Şemhur then had Hasip taken aside and questioned closely as to where Şahmeran might be found. Hasip insisted, again and again, that he knew nothing.
Şahmeran’s Capture
Seeing that kindness had not brought the boy round, the vizier gave the order at once for the guards to beat him until he lost consciousness.
Hasip still insisted he knew nothing. Furious at his stubbornness and his silence, the king gave this order to the executioner:
“Take this boy at once and lead him to the gallows. Send his soul to the next world…”
Hasip thought to himself: “Better to show them Şahmeran’s dwelling than to die. I’ll take them only as far as the well and leave them there — surely they won’t be able to get down.” Seeing his hesitation, the vizier came up to him, and Hasip told him he was ready to speak after all.
He led the vizier to the place where the cave lay. Pointing to the well, he said:
“Şahmeran is inside this well.” Şemhur at once began reciting some incantation. Before long the mouth of the well opened; the narrow little entrance that had once been there now stood wide. A huge dragon appeared. Upon its head it bore a golden tray, and on the tray lay Şahmeran. She turned her eyes about her. Seeing Hasip, she said:
“Traitor! What good has it done you to break faith and bring this blood upon your own head? Fate and destiny have willed it so. I have lived a thousand years. In the end, was I not to drink the wine of death like all the rest? Not everyone is granted this kind of martyrdom. Let me give you one piece of counsel before I die. You have done me wrong, but I will not do the same to you — for cruelty is an evil thing. If this cursed man asks you to be the one to kill me, do not consent, whatever happens — you would become a murderer. Let Vizier Şemhur cut my throat himself, so that he is the murderer, and I go to my death a martyr. Once I am dead, they will put me in a pot and boil me. Whatever you do, do not drink the first water that comes off me — see to it that the vizier drinks that one. If you do as I say, you will see things both strange and useful.”
Hasip promised to follow this counsel, and thanked her for this last kindness. By now they had reached the king’s palace. Şemhur came up to Hasip and said, in a commanding tone:
“Now then — quickly, bring out Şahmeran and cut her throat.” At this Hasip began to weep.
Şemhur, growing angry, snapped at the young man: “Is a snake worth all these tears?” Then he took Şahmeran from Hasip’s hands himself and cut her throat.
At that moment a man came from the king to summon the vizier. The vizier at once handed Hasip Şahmeran’s lifeless body along with two bottles:
“Take this,” he said, “and boil it. Save the second water for me — I suffer from lower-back pain, and I hear it is a very good remedy for it.”
The Vizier’s Death and the King’s Cure
[Hasip did as Şahmeran had instructed him, and gave the first broth to the vizier, who drank it — the very water Şahmeran had warned him not to drink himself — and died on the spot.]
The vizier’s death spread at once through every corner of the palace. The king was greatly distressed at the news, and did not know what to do, since it was on the vizier that he had pinned his hope of a cure. He summoned Hasip to his side and poured out his sorrow to him:
“My son! My vizier is dead. How am I now to be cured of this chronic illness of mine? Can we find any remedy for it at all?”
Hasip kissed the king’s robe and said: “My lord, have no worry on this account. I will have you well again within a single day — the cure for your illness is in my hands.”
Then he took the head of Şahmeran from the pot, gave it to the king, and told him to eat it. The king ate it. Before long he felt a slight itching all over his body — a sure sign that his illness was passing.
Hasip took his leave and went home. Along the road, the trees and plants he passed all spoke, of their own accord, telling him what each was good for; and Hasip made good use of this. That night he did not sleep at all, right through until morning — his heart pounded with anxiety, wondering whether the king would truly recover.
At the break of dawn he set out again for the palace. When he asked after the king’s health this time, he found the king’s health had visibly improved, and a great table had been laid.
“My son,” the king said, full of wonder and gratitude, “I had this table set for you. Sit — this palace is as much your home as mine.”
Hasip smiled. “The command is yours,” he said, and sat down at the king’s table.
Hasip’s Reward
When the meal was over, the king gave orders that within a few hours a great council should be convened at the palace, and that word of it should be announced throughout the city.
Before long, criers had gone out to every part of the city, proclaiming the king’s command. In a short time the great hall of the palace was filled with the most eminent men of the realm.
The king, presenting to them Hasip Keramüddin — now dressed in a vizier’s robes — declared:
“This young man delivered me from my chronic illness. As his reward, I appoint him vizier in place of the late Vizier Şemhur. From this day forward, let none of you fail to obey his commands.”
At this, all the great men of the state rose one by one, took Hasip Keramüddin’s hand, and congratulated him on his new office.
Having risen to this high rank, Hasip from that day took his mother to live with him in the great mansion the king had set aside for him, and, that he might prove worthy of his new position, gave himself night and day, like a man possessed, to the pursuit of learning.
The Ending
In a short time his knowledge grew a great deal — thanks above all to the information contained in those five papers left to him by his father. So it was that Hasip, once idle and good for nothing, became a great man, and lived out the rest of his days in happiness and prosperity.
Translator’s Notes
- The Turkish post’s own title spells the serpent-queen’s name “Şahmaran,” while the body of this particular telling (the 2007 Selami Münir Yurdatap edition reproduced by the source) consistently spells it “Şahmeran.” Both spellings — along with “Şahmaran,” “Şahmeran” and the English “Shahmaran” — refer to the same legendary half-woman, half-serpent queen of serpents found across Anatolian, Persian and Arab folklore. This translation follows the body text’s own spelling, “Şahmeran,” throughout, as printed in the source, while flagging the title’s variant spelling here. ↩
- The source text does not explicitly call Danyal a “physician,” but the context of his illness, his deathbed scene, and the reference to “kitaplarımdan kalan beş kağıt” (“the five papers remaining from my books”) strongly implies a man of learning/healing; this is a light interpretive gloss rather than a literal rendering of an explicit source word, flagged here for transparency. [doğrulama gerekli] ↩
- Şehrazat (Scheherazade) and her husband the King (Şehriyar, called simply “Hükümdar” in the source) are the frame-story narrator and listener of the Binbir Gece Masalları (the Arabian Nights); the source explicitly marks two points where her nightly telling breaks off and resumes, which this translation preserves. ↩
- Kurtlar Deresi: literally “Wolves’ Creek/Valley,” the place-name invented on the spot by Hasip’s treacherous friends in their false story to his mother. ↩
- The source gives Şahmeran’s “true name” as Yemliha at this point in the text. ↩
- Beni İsrail: the Children of Israel. ↩
- The ring (also called the seal) of the Prophet Solomon (Hazret-i Süleyman) is a widespread motif in Islamic and Middle Eastern folklore: a magic ring said to give its bearer command over animals, birds and spirits (jinn). ↩
- Kafdağı (Mount Qaf): a mythical mountain said in Islamic and Persian cosmology to encircle the known world, home to peris, devs and other supernatural beings. ↩
- Peri: a fairy-like supernatural being in Turkish and Persian folklore, often depicted as beautiful and capable of flight, as with the winged garment in the Cihanşah episode. ↩
- Dev: a giant or ogre-like supernatural being common to Turkish, Persian and wider Middle Eastern folklore, often immensely large and strong but not always malevolent, as seen here. ↩
- Taygamus Şah is named here as Cihanşah’s father; the source gives no further explanation of this name beyond the immediate context of the tale. ↩
- Gulyabani: a ghoul or ogre-like being of Turkish and Middle Eastern folklore, typically associated with wild or deserted places. ↩
- Gevhernegin Kalesi: “the Jewel-Adorned Fortress” — the name of the fairy king’s stronghold in this tale, left untranslated here as a proper name, following the source. ↩
- Şah Mürg (“Bird-King” in Persian) appears in the source as an old man who keeps a lodge frequented by birds; the name likely echoes the mythical bird-figures (such as the Simurgh) found elsewhere in Persian-influenced folklore, though the source does not elaborate on this connection. [doğrulama gerekli] ↩
- Hızır İlyas: a composite legendary figure combining Hızır (Khidr), a mysterious immortal guide-saint of Islamic tradition, and the Prophet İlyas (Elijah); together they are often invoked in Turkish folklore as helpers who appear suddenly to rescue travelers in distress. ↩
- Gerezban Şah is the name given in the source for the ruler Hasip ultimately serves; no further explanation of the name is given in the source text. ↩
Source
Binbir Gece Masalları. Translated [into Turkish] by Selami Münir Yurdatap. İstanbul: Elips Kitap, February 2007.
Translated from the Turkish. The Turkish original is published in this archive as Binbir Gece Masalları’ndan Bir Şahmaran Masalı.
