Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
But before we find out what happens to Sharkan on the battlefield, it’s time for our little chitchat.
Abriza—the name of our warrior princess whom we met last night—is neither Byzantine in origin nor a fabricated invention.
It is, in fact, the feminine Arabic form derived from ibriz, meaning pure gold. Yes, Abriza quite literally means “the Golden One.” Within the world of the One Thousand and One Nights, to name a Byzantine princess Abriza, is no accident. It is a poetic gesture—a way of calling her “pure gold.”
The name reflects the medieval Arabic imagination of Byzantium as a realm of immense wealth: golden palaces, churches adorned with gilded mosaics, and women of radiant beauty. And perhaps, in more ways than one, she has already proven herself worthy of that name.
I will pause here—and I hope you will enjoy what comes next.
So without further delay, here is the fourth episode of our story: The Tale of King al-Nu’man, the 95th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Episode 4 The Rogue Byzantine warrior Princess
The Ninety-Fifth Night
When it was the Ninety-Fifth Night, and the night that followed, King Shahriyar took his seat as he had done the evening before.
And scarcely had a moment passed when Shahrazad entered at her appointed hour. She approached, knelt before him, and began her tale:
It has reached me, O King of happy fortune and righteous judgment, that when Prince Sharkan uncovered the stratagem of King Kanaan, and by the aid of the playful yet peerless horsewoman Ibriza — daughter of King Hardoub — saved the army from ruin and led it safely home before it fell into the snare, he did not forget her hand nor her sacrifice.
For she had turned against her own father for his sake, and fought against her own people to secure his safety.
And when the prince drew near his homeland, he ordered the vanguard of his troops to ride ahead, while he himself remained behind with one hundred horsemen, and with him the vizier Dandan.
But suddenly, a cloud of dust rose and darkened the horizons, filling the sky like a gathering storm.
When it cleared, there stood before them one hundred grim riders, armored in iron, their faces concealed, their ranks unbroken.
The two companies cried out.
The hosts collided.
Steel met steel.
The herald of death called out.
Battle raged as though mountains struck against mountains.
And they remained thus for eight days and seven nights.
Men grew weary.
Champions faltered.
Twenty of Sharkan’s men were taken captive — yet not a single life was slain.
At this, the prince marveled and said to the vizier:
Sharkan: Strange are these enemies! They strive not to spill blood. They capture men, yet do not kill them. When our weakness lies open before them, they do not strike. Tomorrow I shall challenge their champion, and teach him the measure of men.
When morning broke and its light spread across the field, the ranks were drawn once more.
Prince Sharkan rode into the center of the plain, wheeled his horse, and cried aloud:
Sharkan: Is there any who will meet me? Is there any who dares?
Today is a day of shaking!
I have humbled champions!
I have orphaned sons!
I am the knight of the field — Sharkan, son of King Al-Nu’man!
From the opposing ranks rode forth a single armored warrior.
His voice rang clear beneath his helm.
The Knight (disguised): You have entangled yourself, O Sharkan. The world deceived you — and the world has no mercy. You are not my equal. Go back, and send me one worthy of my blade before it drinks your blood.
Sharkan: Declare your name, youth!
The Knight: I am a knight of the Byzantines. I am the poisoned arrow. I am the Day of Reckoning when it rises!
Sharkan: Then your day has come. Stand your ground!
The Knight: Draw your sword, Sharkan!
Blow met blow.
Steel flashed.
The clash rang across the plain.
Sharkan struck fiercely — but the strange knight parried with ease.
Suddenly—
With a swift turn and a flashing stroke, the knight disarmed him.
Sharkan’s sword fell to the earth.
A gasp rose from both armies.
Sharkan: God is Great!
The knight’s voice softened.
The Knight: Sharkan…
He stared.
Sharkan: The brave do not strike women. Who are you? Lift your veil!
Slowly, the helm was removed.
The veil fell.
Sharkan: Ibriza?!
It was she.
Radiant even in armor.
Sharkan: Why? What brings you here? Why do you fight us? I understand nothing!
Ibriza: I will tell you all.
She spoke calmly:
“I aided your escape from my father, King Hardoub. I revealed to you the secret of Princess Atrashan and the snare her father King Kanaan had laid. I ensured your army’s safe return to your land.
“Do you think my father would leave me unpunished?”
Sharkan’s voice softened.
Sharkan: But why wage war upon us?
Ibriza smiled faintly.
Ibriza: War? You believe these are men?
She turned and called:
“Knights — step forward.”
One by one, the armored riders advanced.
“Lift your veils.”
They obeyed.
Gasps broke from Sharkan’s ranks.
They were all women.
Warrior maidens of Byzantium.
Sharkan: By God… Byzantine maidens in the house are ladies — but in the field, they are lions!
Ibriza raised her hand.
“Return now to your homeland. You have done your duty.”
The maidens saluted and withdrew.
Sharkan looked at her.
Sharkan: And you?
Ibriza: I shall go with you. Your fate shall be mine. I will stand before King Al-Nu’man and ask his protection.
Sharkan placed his hand over his heart.
Sharkan: You have my word. You shall live among us honored and cherished. Without you, we would never have returned alive.
He turned to Dandan.
Sharkan: Come. Let us go to my father.
And they rode toward the court of King Al-Nu’man.
And thus they entered the palace of King Al-Nu’man.
The king received his son with warmth and drew him near.
King Al-Nu’man: Come, Sharkan, sit beside me, my son. I did not tell you—
Sharkan: Tell me what, my father?
King Al-Nu’man: I visited the queen yesterday.
Sharkan: The queen? Which queen?
King Al-Nu’man: Queen Ibriza, daughter of King Hardoub.
A faint smile touched Sharkan’s face.
Sharkan: And did you find her as I described?
The king waved his hand.
King Al-Nu’man: Describe her? You did not begin to describe her! Her eyes, her bearing—no, I do not speak of beauty alone. I speak of her sacrifice. Of her courage. Of what she did for us when God delivered us from ruin.
Sharkan bowed his head.
Sharkan: It is true.
The king continued:
“And stranger still — the slave-girl Atrashan has been revealed as the daughter of King Kanaan! He sought revenge. Had it not been for Ibriza, our army would have perished.”
He paused.
“And as for the tale of the treasure and the three beads — pure invention, a snare to lure us into destruction.”
Then he added lightly:
“I have taken the three beads from her. One I have kept for you. The other two I have given to your siblings.”
Sharkan blinked.
Sharkan: My siblings? I have but one sister — the daughter of Atrashan.
The king smiled.
“She bore a son as well.”
Sharkan: A son? When?
King Al-Nu’man: The very day she gave birth to Nuzhat Al-Zaman, it was discovered she carried twins. She bore also Daw’ Al-Makan.
Sharkan stood silent, absorbing the revelation.
Sharkan: I did not know I had a brother to share in the three beads.
The king laughed softly.
“Do you envy them, my son? The crown is written for you after me.”
Sharkan bowed.
“As you command, my father.”
The king’s voice softened.
“Your sister Nuzhat Al-Zaman and your brother Daw’ Al-Makan are in your care, Sharkan.”
Sharkan: By your command, O King of the Age.
“Guard them well. Let not the Devil overcome you. God alone is our refuge.”
Later, the king went to visit Ibriza in her chambers.
She rose with courtesy.
King Al-Nu’man: How do you fare, Ibriza?
Ibriza: Praise be to God.
King Al-Nu’man: Do you lack for anything? Is aught denied you?
Ibriza: Your kindness is enough, my lord. That you come yourself to visit me is honor beyond measure.
The king smiled.
“You do not know how dear you are to me.”
She lowered her gaze.
“May God prolong your happiness.”
A pause lingered between them.
“Ibriza…”
“My lord.”
“There is something I would say.”
“Speak.”
He hesitated.
“You do not encourage me.”
She looked at him gently.
“My lord?”
Then, as though breaking through restraint, he spoke:
“I love you, Ibriza.”
She answered calmly:
“And I love you.”
The king’s face brightened.
“Say it again.”
She met his eyes.
“Who have I but you? You are my benefactor.”
“Then you love me?”
She smiled softly.
“Of course I love you. You are as my father — and I am as your daughter.”
The words struck like a blade.
Silence fell.
“Listen, Ibriza,” he said slowly. “What if you were queen of this land?”
“The true king is he who masters himself,” she replied.
His voice trembled.
“You do not understand how deeply I love you.”
“And I honor you, my lord.”
“Do not twist the words. Passion has consumed me.”
Her expression changed — firm now.
“If I had desired a husband, I would have chosen your son, Prince Sharkan.”
The king stiffened.
“Sharkan?”
“But I desire no man. My heart is dead.”
He stepped back, wounded pride hardening into suspicion.
“Now I see why you refuse me. You love him.”
“Is there one who does not admire Sharkan?”
“You love him!”
“Love is not mine to command. My heart is no longer my own.”
The king’s face darkened.
“A curious matter indeed — father and son rivals for a foreign maiden!”
Her eyes flashed.
“A maiden? Is that what I am to you?”
He raised his hand sharply.
“If Sharkan stands between me and my will, I shall remove him!”
She stepped forward.
“What fault has the prince?”
But jealousy had seized him.
“I shall discipline him. I shall show him!”
He turned and called in fury:
“Dandan! Dandan!”
The king withdrew with his vizier. Dandan listened, pondered long, and devised his counsel.
At last he raised his head and spoke:
“O King of the Age—”
And before the counsel was revealed, the dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent until another night.
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