The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (89 page)

My mother spoke to me in Spanish, my father in Arabic, so from the beginning I knew both languages but principally Arabic. I learned the Koran by heart and made a deep study of its commentaries. From my earliest childhood I was a fervent Muslim and a follower of Ali. I had been inculcated with a deep hatred of Christians. All these
feelings were more or less innate and grew as I grew in the darkness of the caves.

I reached my eighteenth year. For a long time it had seemed to me that the roof of the underground dwelling was oppressing my soul and crushing me. I was thirsty for pure air. This feeling made me ill. I lost my strength and grew visibly listless. My mother was the first to notice what was happening. She began questioning me and I confided to her all my feelings. I described to her the oppressive sensation which tormented me and the strange restlessness of my heart, which I could not express. I added that I wished absolutely to breathe a different air, to see the sky, the forests, the mountains, the sea, other men, and that I would die if this wish was not granted.

My mother shed some tears and said, ‘Dear Massoud, your illness is common among us. I myself have suffered from it, and I was then allowed to make a few excursions. I went to Granada, and even further afield. But for you it's different. There are great plans for you. Soon you will be launched into the world and you will go much further away than I would like. But come and see me very early tomorrow and I shall see to it that you can breathe some pure air.'

The next day I joined my mother at the appointed hour.

‘Dear Massoud,' she said, ‘you want to breathe fresher air than that which you can breathe in these caves. Be patient. If you crawl for a certain time under this rock you will reach a deep, narrow gorge. The air is freer there than it is here. In places you can even climb the rocks and see a limitless horizon spreading out at your feet. This hollow passage was in the beginning only a crack in the rock, from which fissures have since run out in various directions. Today you will see before you a labyrinth of intersecting paths. Take some pieces of charcoal with you and at every fork mark the path you have followed. That is how to avoid getting lost. Here is a bag with provisions. You'll find no shortage of water. I hope that you don't meet anyone, but slip a
yatagan
¹
into your belt in case you do. I am putting myself in great danger in satisfying your wishes so don't stay away too long.'

I thanked my kind mother, started crawling and reached a narrow passage hollowed out in the rock but still covered with vegetation. Later I saw a little lake with clear water and several paths crossing one another. I walked for most of the day. The noise of a waterfall attracted my attention. I followed the downward path of the stream and reached the point where it flowed down into a bay. It was a magical place. For a moment I was silent in admiration, then hunger gnawed at me. I got out the provisions from my bag, proceeded to perform the ablutions prescribed by the prophet and eagerly set about my food. When I had finished my meal I performed my ablutions again, prepared to return to the caves and followed the path by which I had come. Suddenly I heard a strange rustling. I turned round and saw a woman emerging from a spring. Her wet hair covered her nearly completely, but she was wearing a green silk dress, which clung to her body. After the fairy had emerged from the water, she hid in the bushes and came out again dressed in dry clothes, with her hair held back by a comb.

She climbed on to a rock, no doubt to enjoy the view, and then went back to the spring from which she had come. Without knowing why, I instinctively blocked her path. She was frightened at first but I fell to my knees. This humble attitude seemed to reassure her somewhat. She came up to me, took me by the chin and kissed me on the forehead. Then, as fast as lightning, she threw herself in the lake and disappeared from sight. I was convinced that she was a fairy or, as they are called in our stories, a
peri
. But in spite of this I went up to the bush where she had hidden and found there the dress hung up to dry.

I had no other reason to linger there and returned to the cave. I greeted my mother with a kiss but did not tell her of the adventures which had befallen me, for I had read in our
ghasels
²
that fairies like their secrets to be kept. My mother noticed that I was extremely lively and was glad that the liberty she had given me had had such a beneficial effect.

The next day I went back to the spring and, as I had marked the
way with charcoal, I found it without difficulty. Once there I called out to the fairy at the top of my voice and asked her to excuse me for having performed my ablutions in her spring. However, I performed them again and then spread out my provisions. Guided by a secret instinct, I had brought enough for two people. I hadn't begun eating when I heard a rustling coming from the spring. The fairy emerged from it and laughed as she shook water over me.

She ran to the bush, put on a dry dress and sat down next to me. Then she ate like an ordinary mortal, but didn't say a word. I thought that this was the custom of fairies and was not surprised.

Don Juan Avadoro has already told you his story, so you have guessed that my fairy was his daughter Ondina, who dived into the passages under the rock and swam from her lake to mine. Ondina was innocent, or rather, she was unaware of innocence or sin. Her face was so enchanting, her behaviour so simple and engaging that I fell deeply in love with her and imagined that I had become the husband of a fairy. This lasted for one month.

One day the sheikh summoned me. In his company I discovered the six chiefs of the tribes, including my father.

‘My son,' he said, ‘you are going to leave our caves and go to those happy regions where people profess the faith of the prophet.'

These words made the blood run cold in my veins. To be parted from the fairy meant death to me. ‘Dear father,' I cried, ‘allow me never to leave these caves.'

I had no sooner uttered these words than I saw six daggers pointing at me. My father seemed to want to be the first to strike me in the heart.

‘I accept that I must die,' I said, ‘but let me first speak to my mother.'

This favour was granted me. I threw myself in her arms and told her of my adventure with the fairy. My mother was amazed and said, ‘Dear Massoud, I didn't think there were any fairies on earth. In any case I don't know anything about them, but there's a wise Jew living nearby whom I'll ask about them. If the one whom you love is a fairy, she will be able to find you wherever you are. Moreover, you must also consider that in this place the least sign of disobedience is
punished by death. Submit yourself to their wishes, and try to earn their good graces.'

My mother's words made a deep impression on me. I thought to myself that the fairy was indeed bound to be an omnipotent being and that she would be able to find me even at the very ends of the earth. I went to see my father and swore him blind obedience.

The next day I set off on my journey with a Tunisian called Sid Ahmed. He first took me to his native city, one of the most enchanting in the world. From Tunis we went to Zaghouan, a little town famous for the manufacture of the red beret called the fez. I was told that near the town there was a strange building composed of a temple and a colonnade forming a semicircle around a lake. The water springs from the temple like a fountain and runs into the lake. It was said that in ancient times the waters of the lake were piped as far away as Carthage. It was also said that the temple was dedicated to an aquatic deity. Deranged as I was, I thought that this deity was my fairy. I went to the fountain and started shouting for her as loud as I could, but all that replied was an echo.

Later, still at Zaghouan, I was told about a castle of ghosts, whose ruins were a few miles off in the desert. I went there and saw a circular edifice built in an unusual but fine style. A man was sitting in the ruins and drawing. I asked him in Spanish whether it was true that the palace had been built by ghosts. He smiled and said that it was a theatre in which the ancient Romans organized fights between wild animals. The place was called el Djem and had once been famous under the name of Zama. The traveller's explanation didn't interest me in the slightest. I would have preferred to meet a ghost there who might have brought me news of my fairy.

From Zaghouan we went on to Kairouan, the old capital of the mahdi. There I saw an immense town of a hundred thousand violent and passionate inhabitants, ready to rise up at any moment. We spent a whole year there. From Kairouan we went to Ghadames, a little independent state which is part of the Bled el Djerid, or the country of the date palms. That is what the region which stretches from the Atlas mountains to the Sahara, the desert of sand, is called. The date palms are so productive in this region that one tree is enough to feed a man of moderate appetite (as all the men of that race are) for a
whole year. But there is no lack of other food. A cereal called
doura
is found there too, and tall sheep with no fleece whose flesh is succulent.

At Ghadames we met many Moors who had come from Spain. There were no Zegris or Gomelez among them but many families who were deeply devoted to us. It was a country of refugees.

Less than a year had gone by when I received a letter from my father, which ended as follows: