that he was not killed.
Majnun knew that his heart should have been with Nowfal; he knew that Nowfal was fighting for his sakeand that he should have been praying for his benefactor’s victory. Yet, as the battle wore on, his mind became more confused. Had he himself not always said that he was ready to die for Layla? Yet here were Layla’s menfolk, being killed for his sake. And by whom? By Nowfal and his men — Majnun’s own friends!
A shameful thought crept into his mind. Were Nowfal and his men really his friends? Were they not really his friends’ enemies? While the battle raged all around him, another battle was taking place in his own soul, every bit as fierce as the one on the field. Majnun reckoned that had shame not immobilised him, he would have drawn his sword against his own side, against Nowfal’s men. But that, he said to himself, would have made him infamous in the eyes of Layla’s tribe. He could almost imagine the laughter and the jeers of the enemy fighters, entertained by the spectacle of Majnun as he attacked from behind the very men whose goal it was to help him. Nevertheless, had Fate so decreed, he would have gladly fired his arrows against those who were now attacking Layla’s tribe. His heart was with the kinsmen of his beloved; even now, he mouthed a silent prayer for their victory.
Finally, these feelings became too strong to subdue. Whenever an enemy horseman advanced, or threw one of Nowfal’s men from the saddle, he would cheer; whenever one of Nowfal’s men scored a hit, he would howl with dismay.
Eventually, one of Nowfal’s men saw how Majnun was behaving, turned to him and said, ‘What is wrongwith you, sir? Why do you enjoy the proceedings from afar? And why do you rejoice when the enemy advances? Have you forgotten that we are here on your account? Do you not realise that we are all risking our lives for you?’
‘If they really were my enemies,’ Majnun replied, ‘I would be able to fight them, but they are not. Those people are my friends. In truth, I have no place here. The heart of my beloved beats for the enemy, and where her heart is, that is where I must be. I want to die for her sake; it was never my wish to kill other men. How can I be on your side, when I have given up my soul to her?’
Meanwhile, Nowfal was on the edge of victory. Like a madman unchained, he stormed the enemy walls time and time again, cutting down man after man as he advanced, intoxicated by the scent of glory. Yet as dusk began to fall, the battle was still undecided. Soon, as night threw its veil of black over the burnt shoulders of day and the serpent of darkness swallowed the last pearl of light, the fighters were unable to see each other on the field. Nowfal declared the battle over — for now — and it was agreed, given that there were neither victors nor vanquished, that they would meet again at dawn.
Many brave men had fallen, and the number of wounded was even greater than the number of dead. Yet Nowfal was sure that he would be able to effect one final push and achieve a decisive victory on the following day. But when, as dawn broke, Nowfal was just beginning to round up his men and lead them intobattle, one of his scouts rode into camp with the news that the enemy had been reinforced with troops from other tribes.
Now, Nowfal might have been hot-headed, but he was no fool. After consultation with his men, a decision was reached. They would opt for the only move left open to them. Then he called his herald and sent a message to the enemy camp.
‘Enough! Enough of this senseless bloodshed,’ the message read. ‘It is time to sue for peace. What I desired from you, and what I still desire, is Layla. She is the only one who can break the spell and tear the chains of delusion from Majnun’s soul. In return for her, I am ready to pay you camel-loads of treasure. Think long and hard about my proposal. But even if you refuse, we should lay down our arms and make peace. It is the
Majnun knew that his heart should have been with Nowfal; he knew that Nowfal was fighting for his sakeand that he should have been praying for his benefactor’s victory. Yet, as the battle wore on, his mind became more confused. Had he himself not always said that he was ready to die for Layla? Yet here were Layla’s menfolk, being killed for his sake. And by whom? By Nowfal and his men — Majnun’s own friends!
A shameful thought crept into his mind. Were Nowfal and his men really his friends? Were they not really his friends’ enemies? While the battle raged all around him, another battle was taking place in his own soul, every bit as fierce as the one on the field. Majnun reckoned that had shame not immobilised him, he would have drawn his sword against his own side, against Nowfal’s men. But that, he said to himself, would have made him infamous in the eyes of Layla’s tribe. He could almost imagine the laughter and the jeers of the enemy fighters, entertained by the spectacle of Majnun as he attacked from behind the very men whose goal it was to help him. Nevertheless, had Fate so decreed, he would have gladly fired his arrows against those who were now attacking Layla’s tribe. His heart was with the kinsmen of his beloved; even now, he mouthed a silent prayer for their victory.
Finally, these feelings became too strong to subdue. Whenever an enemy horseman advanced, or threw one of Nowfal’s men from the saddle, he would cheer; whenever one of Nowfal’s men scored a hit, he would howl with dismay.
Eventually, one of Nowfal’s men saw how Majnun was behaving, turned to him and said, ‘What is wrongwith you, sir? Why do you enjoy the proceedings from afar? And why do you rejoice when the enemy advances? Have you forgotten that we are here on your account? Do you not realise that we are all risking our lives for you?’
‘If they really were my enemies,’ Majnun replied, ‘I would be able to fight them, but they are not. Those people are my friends. In truth, I have no place here. The heart of my beloved beats for the enemy, and where her heart is, that is where I must be. I want to die for her sake; it was never my wish to kill other men. How can I be on your side, when I have given up my soul to her?’
Meanwhile, Nowfal was on the edge of victory. Like a madman unchained, he stormed the enemy walls time and time again, cutting down man after man as he advanced, intoxicated by the scent of glory. Yet as dusk began to fall, the battle was still undecided. Soon, as night threw its veil of black over the burnt shoulders of day and the serpent of darkness swallowed the last pearl of light, the fighters were unable to see each other on the field. Nowfal declared the battle over — for now — and it was agreed, given that there were neither victors nor vanquished, that they would meet again at dawn.
Many brave men had fallen, and the number of wounded was even greater than the number of dead. Yet Nowfal was sure that he would be able to effect one final push and achieve a decisive victory on the following day. But when, as dawn broke, Nowfal was just beginning to round up his men and lead them intobattle, one of his scouts rode into camp with the news that the enemy had been reinforced with troops from other tribes.
Now, Nowfal might have been hot-headed, but he was no fool. After consultation with his men, a decision was reached. They would opt for the only move left open to them. Then he called his herald and sent a message to the enemy camp.
‘Enough! Enough of this senseless bloodshed,’ the message read. ‘It is time to sue for peace. What I desired from you, and what I still desire, is Layla. She is the only one who can break the spell and tear the chains of delusion from Majnun’s soul. In return for her, I am ready to pay you camel-loads of treasure. Think long and hard about my proposal. But even if you refuse, we should lay down our arms and make peace. It is the
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