The Elixir of Long Life
by
Allen Page
A short story
Long ago, in the days when the caliphs ruled Spain and all peoples lived in peace, there was a certain wise and honest carver of wood by the name of Ibn Saud who lived in the city of Sevilla. He lived there with his wife, Nagia, and their two children, Farouk and Laila.
Nagia was a rotund, jolly woman, devoted to her family and respected in the city as the wife of one of its ablest craftsmen. She was renowned for her love of the stranger and her generosity to those less fortunate than herself.
Farouk, at sixteen, had already been helping his father in the woodshop for some years. He was lithe and slim and possessed a keen eye for beauty and a sharp mind to learn the trade. He was a quiet lad, treating his parents with all due respect and reverence.
Laila, like an unexpected comet in the night sky, had been born to Ibn Saud and Nagia many years after Farouk. She was only three years old and was the delight of her father's heart, with her auburn hair and olive skin.
Often when Ibn Saud was plying his trade in the workshop, Laila would quietly enter and watch her father for an hour. Then, when he was on his knees, carving the bottom edge of some cabinet, or bending to retrieve a dropped chisel, she would put her chubby little arms about his neck and kiss him on the forehead.
The first floor of Ibn Saud's house was the workshop; upstairs was his home. The house was situated in the heart of Sevilla where the skills of the craftsman were constantly in demand.
Because of Ibn Saud's wisdom and talent his name was known far and wide. Not only did people seek out his crafts, but they also sought his counsel in matters both public and private. Life for Ibn Saud and his family was secure and comfortable-so much so that the man thought in his heart, "If only such a life could go on forever!"
One day, however, as he bent-under the eye of his daughter-to brush wood shavings from around the workbench, Laila spoke words that troubled his heart. Instead of kissing him, she took his head in her hands and examined his hair intently.
"Baba," she said. "You have three white hairs growing here...and here...and there."
The man was disquieted. Long after the little girl had run outside to play in the garden behind the house, his mind mulled over her words.
"I am getting old," he murmured to himself. "If only life could go on forever. But no, soon enough I will be bent with age and infirmity. My son will lead me around by the hand and I will go to my grave in short order. The people of the city will forget my wisdom and the generosity of my family, and my name will pass out of history as though I had never existed."
Such were the thoughts of the man.
At first the meanderings of his mind only made Ibn Saud uneasy. But as he meditated he became, day-by-day, more solemn and morose.
"Why so sad, my husband?" asked Nagia one day. "Life is full of promise for you. Who knows, you may one day sit at the city gates, judging disputes and blessing the little children."
"Ah, good wife," he replied. "You know not whereof you speak. Soon enough life will pass. I will grow old and die and be utterly forgotten. See," he added, pointing to his head. "The process has already begun-I am turning gray."
Thinking that he jested, Nagia laughed and said, "Ibn Saud, sometimes your wisdom borders on the realm of nonsense. You are yet young with a long life ahead of you, insha'Allah. But already you think of death?"
