The Departure and the Betrayal
Once, in a flourishing city of trade, lived a wealthy merchant who cherished his two children: a son of noble character and a daughter named Wijdan, whose beauty was whispered to be as radiant as the morning sun and whose wisdom surpassed her years. When their mother passed away, the merchant poured all his love into raising them with the highest virtues.
The time came for the merchant to perform the sacred pilgrimage to Mecca. Concerned for his daughter’s safety, he secured their home, leaving a high ladder at a secluded window for emergencies. He summoned the local Muezzin—a man widely respected for his apparent piety—and entrusted him with a pouch of gold dinars. "Provide my daughter with the finest meat and vegetables daily," the merchant requested. "I trust you as a brother." The Muezzin bowed his head, his face a mask of holiness. "Fear not, Haji. She is as my own daughter."
However, beneath the Muezzin’s cloak lay a heart of stone. Each day, as he brought the supplies, he became intoxicated by Wijdan’s grace. His "fatherly" care soon turned into dark obsession. He confessed his illicit love, but Wijdan, a pillar of integrity, recoiled in disgust. "You are a man of God! Shame on you," she cried. "If you do not cease, I shall tell my father the moment he returns."
Spurned and humiliated, the Muezzin’s love curdled into a lethal vendetta. "You will starve then!" he hissed. "I bring you the best of the market, but from now on, you shall have nothing." Wijdan remained unshaken. "I would rather starve than look at your face. I shall ask my neighbor to bring me what I need via the ladder. Begone!"
The Poisoned Letter
As the merchant and his son neared home, a messenger arrived with a letter from the Muezzin. It was a masterpiece of deceit: “O Haji, your daughter has strayed. She tried to seduce me, a man of prayer, and when I refused, she mocked your name. The whole village speaks of her shame. Do not return until you have purged this stain from your house.”
Blind with rage and blinded by the Muezzin’s false reputation, the merchant did not seek the truth. He called his son and handed him a dagger. "Take her to the deep desert," he commanded, his voice trembling with fury. "Kill her, and bring me her tongue as proof that the voice of sin has been silenced."
The son, heart heavy, went to Wijdan. Joyful at his return, she opened the door, only to be led away into the scorching dunes. On the path, the brother’s conscience wavered. "Did the neighbor truly serve you?" he asked.
Wijdan wept as she explained the Muezzin’s treachery. "He sought to ruin me because I defended my honor." The brother, seeing the truth in her eyes, could not strike. "Our father has been blinded by a devil in a scholar’s robe," he whispered. At that moment, a wild deer crossed their path. The brother shot the animal, took its tongue, and stained Wijdan’s garment with its blood.
"Take this deer skin to wrap yourself," he said, handing her a waterskin. "Hide in the wilderness. May God protect you, for I cannot disobey my father, but I cannot murder my innocent sister."
The Queen of the Wilderness
Wijdan, now a nomad of the sands, survived on dried meat and prayer. When her water failed and her strength ebbed, she collapsed under a burning sun. She awoke not to the sting of death, but to the soft, wet tongue of a fawn licking her cheek. A great herd of deer surrounded her.
In the company of animals, she found a purity humans lacked. "Animals do not know greed," she mused. "They do not bear false witness." Over the months, Wijdan transformed. She fashioned clothes from skins, used found tools to build fires, and grew strong and fierce. Her hair grew long and wild, and her eyes held the sharpness of a hawk. She became the Princess of Deer, leading the herd to hidden springs and protecting them from predators.
One day, Prince Mohammed, son of the neighboring Sultan, was out hunting. He spotted the herd and raised his bow. Suddenly, a figure of breathtaking beauty and terrifying authority stepped from the brush.
"If you wish to return to your palace alive, lower your weapon," Wijdan commanded. The Prince’s companion laughed. "A mere girl commands the Prince?" "I am the Sovereign of this herd," she replied. "They have no king but me."
Prince Mohammed was struck not just by her beauty, but by her spirit. He returned to his palace, but his heart remained in the wild. He began leaving offerings of food—couscous and spiced meats—for the mysterious maiden. Slowly, trust was built. Beneath the stars, the Prince and the Deer Princess shared meals and stories. He saw her nobility; she saw his kindness.
The Sultan’s Court and the Shadow of Envy
The Prince brought Wijdan to his father’s palace to marry her. The Sultan was skeptical. "A girl from the woods? What of her lineage?" But when Wijdan entered the throne room, she carried herself with such majesty that the Sultan bowed his head. "She is more a queen than any born in a palace," he whispered.
However, her arrival sparked the jealousy of a neighboring King, a man of dark desires who had long sought to possess her. When his bribes were rejected by Wijdan, he resorted to a cowardly plot. He poisoned a chalice of wine intended for the Prince.
By a twist of fate, the Prince fell ill with a headache before drinking and ordered the wine be given to the servants. They fell dead instantly. In the chaos, the King’s spies pointed the finger at Wijdan. "She prepared the drink!" they cried.
Knowing the weight of a false accusation, and seeing that even in a palace, a woman's word is often doubted, Wijdan did not wait for a trial. She left a note for her husband: "I go to find my own justice. Guard our son. I will prove my innocence once and for all."
The Masterpiece of Revenge
Wijdan disguised herself as a humble cook. She traveled to the capital of the Great Sultanate and opened a small shop. Her skills were legendary; the aroma of her spices could draw a man from miles away. Eventually, the Sultan himself hired her as his Chief Chef.
She waited for the perfect moment. "Great Sultan," she said one day. "I wish to prepare a feast for the most notable men: the Muezzin of the northern village, the Merchant Hassan, and the King of the neighboring tribe."
The feast was set. As the guests ate, Wijdan slipped a "truth-herb" into the portions of the Muezzin and the jealous King. As the herb took hold, their inhibitions crumbled.
"Tell us," Wijdan asked, her face veiled. "What is the greatest feat of your lives?" The Muezzin, laughing hysterically, bragged, "I convinced a Merchant to kill his own daughter just because she wouldn't sleep with me! The fool believed every word!" The Merchant Hassan froze, his face turning ghostly white.
The neighboring King then chimed in, "That is nothing! I poisoned a Prince’s court and framed his own wife just because she refused to be my concubine!"
The hall fell into a deadly silence. Wijdan cast off her veil. "Behold the 'dead' daughter and the 'traitorous' wife!"
Justice and Legacy
The Merchant Hassan fell to his knees, weeping for his daughter’s forgiveness. The Great Sultan, disgusted, stripped the jealous King of his crown and cast him into the streets as a beggar. The Muezzin, attempting to flee in terror, slipped and fell, paralyzing himself—a prisoner in his own body for the rest of his miserable days.
Wijdan returned to Prince Mohammed’s side, not as a refugee, but as a hero. The people lined the streets with olive branches, chanting her name. She had defeated the lions in their dens and the wolves in their masks.
She lived a long life, teaching her daughter that true royalty is found in honor, not gold. And for generations, the grandmothers of the desert told the tale of Wijdan, the woman who spoke for the silent deer and silenced the lying tongues of men.
Keywords
Wijdan, Princess of Deer, Arabic Folklore, Revenge Story, Honor and Justice, Desert Adventure, Prince Mohammed, Betrayal and Redemption, Historical Fiction, Strong Female Protagonist.
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