The Slave's Fortune

Ahmed was the only child of the wealthiest merchant in Damascus. His father spent his days doing everything he could to fulfill his wishes. The boy returned his father's love, and the two lived together in great happiness. They were rarely apart; the father shortened his business trips so he could hurry back to Damascus, and eventually he limited his affairs to those he could manage from home.

For safety, whenever Ahmed was out of his father's sight, he was accompanied by a tall black slave named Pedro, an imposing figure dressed richly as befitted his position and duties. Pedro was a loyal servant, and he and Ahmed were the closest of friends.

When Ahmed grew into a youth, his father decided to send him to Jerusalem to be educated. He did so reluctantly, knowing it was the wisest course. Gently, he broke the news to Ahmed, knowing the boy would dislike leaving home. Ahmed was truly sorry to be parted from his father, but he held back his tears and said bravely, "It is your wish, father, so I do not question it. I know you desire only my well-being."

"Well spoken, my son," said his father.

"May I take Pedro with me?" asked Ahmed.

"No, that would not be proper," his father answered gently. "It would make you seem eager to display your wealth. Such showiness would lead people to regard you and me as foolish, with more riches than is good for wisdom. Besides, my son, your future learning must not be limited to what wise men can teach you. You are going to the great city to learn the ways of the world, to train yourself in self-reliance, and to prepare for all the duties of manhood."

The youth was disappointed. It was the first time, as far as he could remember, that his father had not granted his wish. But he was flattered by the prospect of quickly becoming a man, and he answered, "I bow to your wisdom, my father."

He left for Jerusalem after bidding his father an affectionate farewell. In the Holy City, he applied himself diligently to his studies. He delighted his teachers with his cheerful attention to lessons and discovered a new source of happiness in learning things for himself through observation. It was a pleasant sensation to manage his own affairs, and in the great city with its busy narrow streets and wonderful buildings, he grew less homesick each day. He regularly received letters from messengers from his father, and dutifully sent back long letters describing all the big and small things that made up his life.

A year passed, and one day the usual message Ahmed expected came in a strange handwriting. He opened it hastily, with a foreboding of evil and alarm. The writer was one of his father's closest friends. He said:

"O worthy son of a most worthy father, greeting to you, and may God give you strength to hear the terrible and sad news it is my sorrowful duty to convey. Know that it has pleased God in His wisdom to call from this earth your saintly father to sit with the righteous in Heaven. Here in Damascus there is great weeping, for your honored father was the most upright of men, a friend to all in distress, a man whose generous charity to the poor and unfortunate was unmatched. But our grief, deep and heartfelt as it is, cannot compare to yours. We have all lost a wise counselor, a trustworthy friend, a guide in all things. But you have lost more. You have lost a father. You are his only son, and his duties now fall to you. Know that we share your profound grief. We offer our sincere sympathy and eagerly await your coming. You have a noble position to occupy and a tradition to continue.

We, your father's friends and yours, O Ahmed, will assist you."

The young man was stunned when he understood the letter's meaning. For some moments he did not speak, but sat on the ground, weeping silently. Then, remembering his father's advice, he promptly began settling his affairs in Jerusalem before departing for Damascus.

"I will take with me," he said, "the good rabbi who has been my religious instructor, for I am not fully prepared to undertake all my duties and need some strengthening counsel."

On arrival at Damascus, he was greeted by a large crowd who expressed their sympathy and spoke in highest praise of his father's benevolence.

After the funeral, Ahmed called the leading townspeople together to hear his father's will read, for he was certain many gifts to charities would be announced. That was the case, and there were subdued murmurs of applause when the amounts were read. Then suddenly the friend who had written to the young man and was reading the will paused.

"I fear there must be a mistake," he whispered to Ahmed.

"Go on," urged the assembled people, and the man read in a strange voice:

"And now, having faithfully performed my duty to the poor as I hope, I bequeath the rest of my possessions to my devoted negro slave, Pedro."

"Pedro!" cried the astonished crowd.

They looked at the massive figure of the black attendant, but he stood motionless and impassive, showing no sign of joy or surprise.

Ahmed could not hide his bewilderment. "Is nothing left to me?" he managed to ask.

"Yes," returned his friend, and amid sudden silence he continued: "This bequest is subject to the following proviso: that one thing be given to my son before the division of my property, the same to be selected by him within twenty-four hours of the reading of this will."

The crowd melted away with mutterings of sympathy mingled with astonishment, but out of Ahmed's hearing, they all said the merchant must have been mad to draw up such an absurd testament. Ahmed himself could hardly realize the great blow that had befallen him. He consulted with his father's friend and the rabbi, but although they reread the document many times, they could find no fault or flaw.

"Legally, this is correct and in perfect order and cannot be altered," said the friend.

"My father must have made a foolish mistake and must have misplaced the words 'son' and 'slave,'" said Ahmed bitterly.

"That does not seem so," said the rabbi. "Your father was a scholar and a wise man. Do not speak hastily, and above all act not rashly without thought. I advise you to sleep on this matter, and in the morning we shall solve this puzzle."

Ahmed, exhausted by grief, rage, and surprise, soon fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, the rabbi was reciting his morning prayers.

"It is a beautiful day," he said when he finished. "The sun shines on your happiness, Ahmed."

Ahmed was too depressed to comment, nor was he completely satisfied when the rabbi assured him all would be well.

"I have pondered deeply and long over your father's words," he said. "I sat up through the night until dawn, and I have been led to the conclusion that your father was truly a wise man."

Ahmed interrupted with a gesture of disapproval. The rabbi took no notice but continued quietly: "Your father must have feared that after his death, in your absence and pending your possible delay in returning, slaves and others might rob you of your inheritance. Pedro, I have discovered, knew the terms of the will. By informing him and making this strange will, your father, O fortunate Ahmed, made sure your inheritance would come to you."

"I do not understand," muttered Ahmed.

"It is perfectly clear," said the rabbi. "As soon as you are ready, you shall make your choice of one thing. Do as I bid you, and you will see your father's wisdom."

Ahmed had no choice but to agree. He could find no solution himself, and wretched though he felt, reason told him that his father loved him and that the rabbi was renowned for shrewdness.

The townspeople gathered early to hear Ahmed make his choice of one thing—and only one—from his father's possessions. Ahmed looked less troubled than they expected, the rabbi wore his most benign expression, and Pedro stationed himself in his usual place at the door, statuesque, obedient, and expressionless as ever.

Ahmed held up his hand to obtain silence.

"Acting under the terms of my father's will," he said solemnly, "at this moment when all, before division, belongs to his estate, I choose but one of my father's possessions—Pedro, the black slave."

Then everybody saw the wisdom of the strange will, for with Pedro, Ahmed became possessed of his father's vast wealth.

To Pedro, who still stood motionless, Ahmed said, "And you, my good friend, shall have your freedom and possessions sufficient to keep you in comfort for the rest of your days."

"I desire nothing but to serve you," Pedro answered. "I wish to remain the faithful attendant of one who will follow nobly in the footsteps of your father."

So everybody was satisfied.