Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.
The afternoon sun painted the sand in golden shades. Ali Baba hid behind some rocks, intrigued by the procession of horsemen heading towards a great, solitary rock. They carried bundles and sacks filled with mysterious contents.
Without stopping, their leader stretched out his hand and spoke firmly:
“Open, sesame!”
The enormous stone rolled aside, revealing a glittering cave.
Before long, the horsemen came out of the cave, this time without their sacks.
When the band had gone, Ali Baba approached cautiously.
-Open, sesame!
He stepped inside slowly and marvelled at the heaps of gold and jewels.
He took a few bags of coins, thrilled at the prospect of matching his brother Kassim's wealth.
Then he quickly left the cave, well aware of the danger he was in.
Once home, he went to see his brother Kassim and borrow a measuring bowl to find out how much gold he had gathered. When he returned it, Kassim confronted him with a frown.
—Brother, what is this piece of gold stuck to the measuring bowl?
Ali Baba hesitated, but finally revealed the secret of the cave.
Kassim smiled with ambition.
—That treasure must be mine! I'll go before dawn.
He set off in the dead of night, lit by his torch and the gleam in his eyes.
-Open, sesame!
As he ventured inside, his footsteps echoed through the darkness.
Sacks and chests stretched before him, without end.
He wanted to leave with his treasures, but forgot the exact word.
“Open, barley… Open, wheat!”,
Rice? Nuts!
he shouted impatiently, but nothing happened.
Suddenly, someone opened the cave from the other side.
Sturdy figures, steady footsteps. Kassim heard a murmur and the metallic clink of weapons. He held his breath.
More torches appeared. Shadows danced across the wall.
They were the forty thieves.
Ali Baba had heard nothing from Kassim for days. Heavy-hearted, he decided to return to the great rock, fearing the worst.
-Open, sesame.
Ali Baba found his brother's body and took it away to bury him.
“If only I hadn't told him anything...”,
Guilt welled up in his heart, returning each time he caught sight of any of the coins from the treasure.
Some time later, the thieves returned to the cave and discovered that Kassim's body was no longer there.
—Someone else knows our secret. We cannot let him live.
-But how will we find him?
-I know how.
The chief of the thieves, a sharp-minded man, went into the city to learn whether anyone had been buried recently. He soon discovered that Ali Baba had said farewell to his brother only a short time before.
He disguised himself as a merchant and told his men:
-Hide yourselves in large jars, the kind that are usually used for storing oil.
-This Ali Baba has recently grown rich at the expense of our treasure. I've no doubt he'll agree to give an important merchant a bed for the night and keep his goods safe.
Dusk was falling when someone knocked at the gate.
Ali Baba, sunk in sorrow, found himself facing a tall man whose face was hidden beneath a turban.
—Good evening, my good man. I've travelled far, and my animals can barely stand on their feet.
-I bring fine oil to sell at the market, but night has caught me without shelter. If you'd kindly let me rest beneath your roof, I would be forever grateful.
Ali Baba looked at the stranger with some suspicion. He was not a man to turn a traveller away, but worry about the thieves still weighed on his heart.
—I'm not sure my home is the right place. I'm no oil merchant, and I don't want to be responsible if your goods are spoiled.
The merchant smiled with well-rehearsed humility.
—Don't worry, friend. I only need a corner for the night. Believe me, I won't cause trouble.
—Very well, stay. But please keep quiet; my family is asleep.
Inside, Morgiana, the most faithful slave, cast sidelong glances at the newcomer. The supposed merchant seemed far too interested in exploring the corridors and examining every corner. Cautious as ever, she decided to stay alert.
Later, while preparing supper, Morgiana noticed there was no cooking oil left. She went out to the courtyard, where the great jars stood.
As she approached the first, she heard a hissing whisper:
—Is that the signal to attack?
Her heart gave a sudden leap. Barely moving her lips, she answered in a deep voice:
—Not yet. Wait for the order.
Morgiana hurried back to the kitchen, her forehead beaded with sweat.
“There are men hiding in those jars”
“They're going to attack us tonight”.
She hurried to boil a large cauldron of water mixed with oil.
In silence, she dragged one of the jars beside the cauldron and poured the boiling liquid into it, killing the thief who was hiding inside.
She went from one to the next, until the last was emptied.
Meanwhile, the chief was growing impatient. He went out to the courtyard to give the order to attack Ali Baba, but found an unexpected scene. Not one of his men answered his call.
He realised what had happened and, in a burst of rage, fled the house and vanished into the night.
The next morning, Ali Baba listened in disbelief to Morgiana's account. He pressed a hand to his chest, overwhelmed by the debt of gratitude he owed her:
—Without you, we'd be dead. I owe you my life and my family's.
“The chief of the thieves will flee, but he'll return”,
she warned.
“We'll have to be ready, Ali Baba.”
Morgiana's words echoed in his heart, reminding him of Kassim.
His death and memories of their brush with disaster weighed on him like a great stone.
Even so, he resisted sharing his fears with anyone; he felt he must bear the responsibility of protecting his home alone.
The thieves' chief prowled around the city for several days, always hidden beneath different disguises. He had sworn revenge on Ali Baba and was plotting how to take it.
One day, the supposed merchant appeared at the market, feigning friendliness and modesty. He laid his exotic wares on a makeshift stall and began casually haggling with curious passers-by.
At one point, he offered a rare box of spices for sale to Ali Baba.
—I think you've made a mistake. You're giving me more goods than I've paid you for.
—Such integrity! It's so rare to find people as honest as you these days. I'd like to thank you personally for your honesty.
He spoke with an extravagant bow.
Still looking at the spices, Ali Baba felt a flicker of unease at the stranger's calculated smile. Even so, he did not wish to be rude.
— I only do what I believe is right. I'd gain nothing by cheating you.
—Precisely. Let me treat you to a meal cooked with my finest spices. Would you do me the honour of welcoming me into your home?
- Bring your spices, and I'll show you the hospitality of my home.
- Wonderful. Just one thing: I cannot bear salt in my dishes. It ruins my spices!
—If you don't want salt, then so be it,
—Ali Baba agreed, offering a polite smile.
The merchant nodded enthusiastically, gathering his things in apparent haste. Before leaving, he bent low again in a show of humility:
—I'm in your debt for your honesty. It will be an honour to cook for you, Ali Baba.
When night came, Morgiana offered to cook. She recalled his request with some puzzlement. There was an ancient Persian law against killing anyone with whom you had shared salt.
As supper went on, Morgiana discreetly watched the merchant's outline. At one point, the fabric of his robe shifted aside, revealing a glimpse of a slender dagger hilt.
The truth struck her like a bolt of lightning: he was the chief of the thieves.
Without losing her composure, Morgiana stepped closer to Ali Baba and whispered in his ear:
—That man is dangerous.
Ali Baba remembered Morgiana saving his family and understood he must listen to her. With a slight gesture, he showed that he trusted her.
They decided to arrange a short performance before serving dessert. Morgiana, skilled in traditional dances, appeared before the merchant in a radiant veil, carrying a beautifully decorated dagger.
She began her dance, moving with grace as she spun and distracted her guest.
The supposed merchant could not help following each turn with his eyes. Suddenly, Morgiana made a swift feint and lunged at him, plunging the blade into his chest.
—He's the chief of the thieves!
Morgiana declared, holding up the villain's dagger so that no one could doubt who he was.
Ali Baba put his hands to his head, shaken and relieved all at once. He embraced Morgiana with gratitude.
The next morning, the city learnt that the threat of the thieves had come to an end. In gratitude, Ali Baba gave Morgiana an honoured place in his family by marrying her to his son.
The treasure was no longer just a reminder of the guilt he had once felt; it also became a symbol of unity and trust.
And so, freed from the shadow of his enemy's threat, Ali Baba understood that he was not alone, and would never again have to bear the duty of protecting his home all by himself.
And that is all... for the moment.
Til the next tale.