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The mighty and terrible Tamerlane, conqueror of numberless kingdoms, had, besides his awesome qualities, a couple of minor shortcomings. He was limping - to the comfort of his enemies who called him Timur the Lame - his hand was crippled and he was also one eyed, as it seems. But where he set his foot the grass never grew again and everything he saw with that one eye of his he proved able to conquer. At the zenith of his fortunes, he desired to be handsome too. Alas, the Emir could not grab and burn himself to the ground to get what he wanted. So, he thought to pay. He promised a shower of gold and emeralds and honours to whomever cured him. Unfortunately, the healers were shy to come forward, as Tamerlane's temper was notorious. For want of volunteers, the impatient ruler reverted to his favourite scapegoat, Nasrudin. Thrown at the feet of the Emir, Hoca was given a choice. He could heal the foot, hand and eye of the master and finish his days old, rich and healthy, covered in honours, if Allah wanted so. Alternatively, he could leave this wicked world quickly under the hatchet, inshallah. Nasrudin chose without difficulty. "If it is an order then with pleasure, Great one! Just allow me two full moons to prepare." After the second crescent filled, Hoca came forth. "Here is the cure, master. With Allah's will you can try it once in a lifetime. For three days and three nights, you must not close your eye to sleep, you must only drink holy water from this jar, only eat these magic figs and rule the world from the height of the old palm tree in front of the imperial serai. For three days and three nights, you must ceaselessly recite the verses of the Holy Book while I will faithfully watch your shadow to keep away the evil one. At the fourth dawn, you will be changed, as you like. With one easy condition only. Never ever during the three days and even less in the darkness of the night will you think of the monkey, that impure fickle creature unable to concentrate on things of the spirit. If even for one instant its image or name profane your soul everything is lost! Do you wish to accept this peril?" "I do," replied the king. The courtiers gathered to witness the miracle. All the monkeys were chased out of Samarkand. The exalted person of the Grand Emir was helped to the top of the palm tree with a jar of holy water, the magic figs and of course the Holy Book. It was such a sad time for the sultan. Stronger than the prayers, more appetising than the figs, more burning than thirst and the hope of beauty, during three days and three nights one thought haunted the mind of the great warrior: the Monkey.

(c) Copyright 1998-2004 Ioan Tenner