The Prince Who Learned a Profession Egypt
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Could be found in: "A World of Children's Stories (Anne Pellowski)"
There was once a ruler who had a son named Mohammad. In his later life he
was called "The Prudent" and here is one of the reasons why. One day
Mohammad said to his father, "I wish to marry."
"Very well," said his father. "I will send your mother to find a girl who
is suitable for you." "oh, no," said Mohammad, "I want to find her
myself."
So Mohammad set off on his horse toward the west. He traveled two days and
on the third day he came upon a big field of leeks. There was a man
digging the leeks and next to him stood his daughter, weaving them in bunches.
Mohammad sat down near them and watched them for a while. "Would you
please bring me a drink of water?" asked Mohammad. The girl brought him some
water and Mohammad drank deeply. The girl pleased him, and he could see that she
was interested in him. So Mohammad called to her father: "I would like to
marry your daughter. Are you in agreement?" The father saw that his
daughter liked the idea, so he agreed to the courtship.
Mohammad bought a piece of land near their field of leeks, and there he
ordered a palace to be built. It was very much like the one his father
owned. After it was furnished, he said to the girl and her father: "Stay
here in this palace while I go back to my family. I must prepare many
things for the marriage. I will return as soon as I can."
Mohammad returned to his father and said, "I have found the girl I wish to
marry."
"Who is she?" asked his father.
"She is the daughter of the sultan of leeks."
"Is there really a sultan of leeks?" asked his father.
"There are leeks surrounding the palace they live in; when I left the
place and asked someone who lived there he said it belonged to the sultan of
leeks."
"Very well," said his father. "Your mother will go and make arrangements
for the marriage." So his mother went off, and when she came to the palace
where the girl now lived with her father, she said to the girl, "I am here
to make arrangements for your marriage to my son."
"What do you mean, your son?" asked the girl.
"My son. The one who came here before. He is the son of a king."
"Oh, I did not know that," said the girl. "Well, if he is the son of a
king, I cannot marry him."
"Why not?"
"Because the man I marry must have a profession. He must be able to work
with his hands."
So the mother returned to her husband, the king, and said, "She will only
marry a man who has a profession, one who can work with his hands."
The king sent for the heads of his guilds. He called the first, who was a
carpenter, the head builder for his estates. "How long would it take you
to teach your profession to my son?" he asked.
"At least two years," answered the carpenter.
The king turned to the head blacksmith. "How long would it take you to
teach your profession to my son?" he asked.
"At least a year," answered the blacksmith.
Then the king noticed a man at the back of the group. He was jumping up
and
down. "Why are you jumping up and down like that?" asked the king.
"I wanted to get your attention," said the man. "I am a weaver of silk. I
was once the head of all your weavers, but I wove so quickly and so well
that the other weavers pushed me aside. When I heard that you wished to
have the heads of each of the professional guilds come, I decided to stand
at the back to find out what it was all about."
"Very well," said the king. "How long would it take you to teach your
profession to my son?"
"I can teach him in five minutes," said the weaver.
"Are you crazy? How can you possible teach him in five minutes?" asked the
king.
"Send for some silk thread in different colors, and a loom, and you will
see if I can teach him in five minutes or not."
So the king sent for a loom and for the finest silk thread and set them in
front of the weaver. The weaver turned to Mohammad and said, "I am not
going to go into long explanations, telling you to do this or do that.
Instead, I want you to look closely and watch exactly what I do with my
hands and with the loom and the thread." With his nimble fingers, the
weaver moved the silk threads back and forth over the loom, creating a
beautiful piece of cloth that showed the king's palace in the design.
"Come, now it is your turn. Make a piece of cloth just like this one,"
said
the weaver. Mohammad took his place in front of the loom. He moved his
fingers exactly like the weaver, twisting the silk threads in and out in
the same way. In five minutes, he had woven a short strip of cloth. The
king left them at work.
Some time later the weaver went to the king carrying two pieces of cloth.
"I wove one of the pieces and the other was woven by Mohammad. Can you
tell the difference?"
The king had to admit it was hard to tell them apart. He made the weaver
his head sheik, to govern over all the other sheiks. Then he called his
wife and said, "Our son is now a weaver of silk."
His wife returned to the daughter of the sultan of leeks and said, "My son
is a prince, but he is also a weaver of silk. Here is a piece of cloth he
has woven."
The girl looked at it and saw it was well done. "Now I will marry him,"
she
said. They made the marriage contracts and celebrated the wedding. Then
they returned to the palace the prince had built and began to live happily
together, until he became the finest weaver in the country.
He liked to go out, disguised as a simple weaver, to buy silk thread at
the markets. One day he was on a search for new thread in a faraway town, when
a man standing in front of a house stopped him. "Please come in and share
some coffee with me," said the man. "Perhaps I can help you find what you
are looking for."
The weaver prince went in, and they passed through a door. It led only to
a small room with another door. They opened it and it led to another room
with a door. They continued on until they had passed through seven doors,
and suddenly the prince was thrust into a room, the seventh door was
locked behind him, and he found himself among a group of strangers. "Who are
you?"
asked the prince. "What are you doing here?"
"We are awaiting our fate," said the others. The man who brought you in
here is a poisoner and extortionist. He puts poison in our food and drink.
Then he hangs us over a boiling cauldron and threatens to lower us un
unless we pay him. He says it is the only way to get rid of the poison.
Each time he says he will let us go free, but then he starts the poisoning
again."
After two days, the prince had indeed been poisoned and the man came for
him and took him to the boiling cauldron. The prince was weak but not so
weak he could not think. "How much do you need to get the poison out of
me?" he asked the poisoner.
"Oh, at least 25 piasters," replied the man, for he knew that was the
amount of money the prince had in his pocket.
"I have something here that will bring you much more," said the prince. "I
am a master weaver, and I have here a piece of the finest silk that I
wove.
I intended to sell it to the prince. If you take it and sell it to someone
at court, I am sure they will pay you at least a thousands piasters." The
prince brought out a piece of silk in which he had woven the royal design.
The poisoner took the piece of silk to the marketplace and offered it for
sale for a thousand piasters. Everyone around began to admire the
beautiful piece of silk. Now the prince had been absent from the palace for three
days, and his assistants suspected something had gone wrong; so they had
gone out looking for him. Two of them were in the crowd looking at the
piece of silk.
"Who made that piece of silk?" they asked. "It appears to be by the finest
weaver. We wish to commission a piece of work like that."
"Oh," said the poisoner. "The weaver is at my house. I invited him in for
coffee and he took ill. You may come in a few days' time and he will be
ready to work for you." And the poisoner slunk off with his thousand
piasters.
When the king was informed that his son was probably being held prisoner,
he came with his soldiers to the house of the poisoner. There he found the
prince, still very ill from the poison. When they had freed all the other
prisoners, and taken the poisoner to his judgment, the king turned to his
son and said, "How wise your wife is. She was right to insist that you
have a profession. For it was the work of your own hands that saved you."
Regards,
Nancy
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