A Room in the Caravanserai

Darbar Khan, the magician, pulls out new heroes from his magic box of stories.

Hamza’s brother Ayjil, his son Alamshah and their friend Tul Mast were also on their way to Sabayil for

Hamza’s wedding. After many days at sea, they ran into a heavy storm. Th e waves rose high, dark clouds covered the moon and stars, and they were blown off course by the strong winds.

One night, their boat fi nally ran aground, on a sandy beach barely lit by a pale moon. Th e three companions overheard some sailors talking in a strange language. Under the cover of darkness, they quickly heaved the boat ashore and hid it under a mound of sand. When they walked into the town, they realized to their horror that they were in Takaw, the kingdom of Hamza’s enemy, Malik Argus. Th ey knew that if they were discovered, Malik Argus would surely kill them. So, they traded their Persian clothes and disguised themselves as local merchants and went in search of a room. Th ey knocked on the doors of several inns in town, but all of them were full. Finally, their boatman took them to an innkeeper who gave them a room in his caravanserai.

Th e caravanserai was a noisy place fi lled with travellers, merchants and animals. Camels chewed hay, grinding their teeth as their jaws moved from side to side. Tired soldiers put aside their weapons and lay down to rest. Th e three men were led through a dim doorway, up a narrow staircase, to a tiny room on the upper fl oor of the caravanserai. It was small and cramped but it was the only vacant room.

Hamza’s friends now had a place to sleep but no money to buy food. Th e innkeeper was a kind man. “I will help you,” he told them. “I know a merchant I can trust and he will exchange your gold belts and jewelled daggers for money.”

“Do you see them?” asks Darbar Khan. “Look! They are easy to recognize: Tul Mast is large and dark-skinned, Ayjil’s red turban has a crimson feather and Hamza’s son, Alamshah, is wearing a yellow jama.”

In a short while the merchant arrived, and by a stroke of luck, he turned out to be an old friend of Alamshah and Hamza. In hushed voices, the precious weapons and belts were exchanged for money. Th e merchant also had some important news for them. He had heard rumours that Hamza had been kidnapped from Sabayil, and was on his way to Takaw. “If Hamza is in danger, I will help you to rescue him,” the merchant promised. “Th e people of Takaw hate Malik Argus. He has brought them nothing but misery.” Ayjil, Alamshah and Tul Mast could not sleep that night. Th ey were worried about Hamza.

Th e next day while they were resting in their room, there was a roll of drums in the street below. Th ey ran to the window and heard a royal messenger make an announcement: “Tomorrow all the men of the kingdom must gather in the palace gardens. Th ere will be a competition to choose the strongest man in Takaw. Th e winner will get a bag of gold coins.”

Th ere was a lot of excitement in the city as many men prepared for the competition. Each one was eager to win the prize. Hamza’s friends did not know whether they should go to the contest. Th ey knew that it could be very dangerous and that they would be killed if they were recognized. But the next morning when the sun lit the world, the three Persians decided to take a chance and go along to see the competition. Th ey wanted to see if the men of Takaw were as strong as the Persians. Dressed as local merchants, Ayjil, Alamshah and Tul Mast joined the crowd making its way towards the palace gardens.

The painting of the caravanserai is carefully put away in a wooden box and Akbar and his men wait eagerly to see the next picture and hear more of the story.