The Story of the Young King of the Black Isles

You must know, sire, that my father was Mahmoud, the king of this
country, the Black Isles, so called from the four little mountains
which were once islands, while the capital was the place where now the
great lake lies. My story will tell you how these changes came about.

My father died when he was sixty-six, and I succeeded him. I married
my cousin, whom I loved tenderly, and I thought she loved me too.

But one afternoon, when I was half asleep, and was being fanned by two
of her maids, I heard one say to the other, "What a pity it is that our
mistress no longer loves our master! I believe she would like to kill
him if she could, for she is an enchantress."

I soon found by watching that they were right, and when I mortally
wounded a favourite slave of hers for a great crime, she begged that
she might build a palace in the garden, where she wept and bewailed him
for two years.

At last I begged her to cease grieving for him, for although he could
not speak or move, by her enchantments she just kept him alive. She
turned upon me in a rage, and said over me some magic words, and I
instantly became as you see me now, half man and half marble.

Then this wicked enchantress changed the capital, which was a very
populous and flourishing city, into the lake and desert plain you saw.
The fish of four colours which are in it are the different races who
lived in the town; the four hills are the four islands which give the
name to my kingdom. All this the enchantress told me to add to my
troubles. And this is not all. Every day she comes and beats me with
a whip of buffalo hide.

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The Story of the Fisherman (3)