Once upon a time there lived a rich merchant in Baghdad. His house was reliable, he owned large and small estates, his ships with valuable goods went to India. He increased the wealth inherited from his father through his efforts, applied in the right place at the right time, as well as thanks to the wise advice and leadership of the Western King, as the Sultan of Cordoba was called at that time.
But suddenly his happiness failed him. Homes and lands were seized by a cruel ruler, ships caught in a typhoon sank, and misfortune befell his family. Even close friends seemed to cease to understand the merchant, despite the fact that their common desire was perfect social relations.
And then the merchant decided to go to Spain to ask for help from his former patron. His path ran through the western desert. Disasters awaited him on the road one after another. His donkey died, he himself was captured by robbers and sold into slavery. With great difficulty the merchant managed to break free. The sun-burnt face of the fugitive resembled tanned leather. The rude inhabitants of the villages through which he passed drove him away from their doors. And only wandering dervishes shared their meager food with him and gave him rags to cover his nakedness. Sometimes he managed to get some fresh water, but more often he had to be content with brackish water, not very suitable for drinking.
Finally he reached the palace of the Western King. But here, too, failure awaited him. The guards kicked the ragamuffin away from the gate; the courtiers did not want to talk to him. The poor guy had to hire himself to do some dirty work in the palace. Having saved some money, he bought himself decent clothes, came to the chief master of ceremonies and asked to be allowed to see the king. Once upon a time, the merchant was close to the monarch, enjoyed his favor, and he had the most vivid memories of this happy time. But since poverty and humiliation had left their mark on the merchant's manners, it became clear to the master of ceremonies that there was no way to introduce this man into high presence until he had received several necessary lessons in social manners and learned to control himself.
Finally, three years after he left Baghdad, the merchant entered the throne room of the Sultan of Cordoba. The king immediately recognized him, sat him down in a place of honor next to him and asked him to tell him about his life.
“Your Majesty,” said the merchant, “in recent years, fate has been extremely cruel to me.” I lost my property, was expelled from my hereditary possessions, lost my ships and was completely ruined. For three years I have been trying to reach you. During this time, I endured all the hardships that can befall a person: I died of hunger and thirst in the desert, suffered from loneliness, was captured by robbers, lived among people whose language I did not understand. Now I am before you and surrender to the will of your royal mercy.
When the merchant fell silent, the king turned to the master of ceremonies:
- Give him a hundred sheep and appoint him as a court shepherd. May he graze them on that hill over there, and may good luck accompany him in this.
The merchant was slightly disappointed that the monarch's generosity was less than he had hoped, but, without showing it, he thanked the Sultan in accordance with etiquette and left. When he brought the flock to the poor pasture that the king had indicated, the sheep fell ill with the plague, and every one of them died. The unlucky shepherd returned to the palace.
- How are your sheep? - asked the king.
“As soon as I brought them to pasture, the whole herd died.
The king called the master of ceremonies and said:
- Give this man fifty sheep, and let him take care of them until he receives the next order!
Feeling bitter and ashamed, the shepherd drove his new flock out to pasture. The animals began to peacefully nibble the grass, when suddenly wolves jumped out of the forest. The frightened herd rushed to a steep cliff and died in the abyss. In great sadness, the merchant came to the king and told him about another failure.
“Well,” said the king, “now take twenty-five sheep.”
Having lost all hope, in despair that everything was going wrong for him, the merchant again brought the herd to pasture. Soon each sheep brought two lambs, then two more, and his flock began to increase. The last litter was especially successful; the lambs were born large, with beautiful wool and tasty meat. The merchant realized that it was profitable for him to sell some of his sheep and buy small and skinny ones at a low price; he fed them until they became strong and healthy, like the sheep of his flock.
Three years later he returned to court in rich clothes to talk about his successes. He was immediately taken to the king.
—Have you managed to become a good shepherd? - asked the king.
“Indeed, Your Majesty, in some incomprehensible way my luck has returned.” I can safely say that now my affairs are going well, although I still don’t feel much love for the shepherd’s occupation.
“Excellent,” said the king, “now accept the kingdom of Seville as a gift from us.” Let everyone know: from now on you are the king of Seville.
And with these words the monarch touched his shoulder with his staff. Unable to restrain himself, the merchant exclaimed in amazement:
- But why didn’t you make me king immediately when I came to you? Have you really tested my patience, already tested enough by fate?
The king laughed:
“Let me tell you that if you had received the throne of Seville on the day you led a hundred sheep up the hill, not one stone would have been left of this kingdom.”
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru