“Tell me worm,” asked old Tamerlane, “you who fall at all times on your feet like a cat, how do you manage to always find the right story or the sharp answer to save your skin?”
Nasrudin stroked his beard, an excessive number of times, as a sign of deep pondering. Then he answered:
“Ruler of the World, second to no King, this reminds me of a story:
Once when I was young, there were on my fence, near my gate – well in sight for everyone to see - seven targets, each with an arrow shot right into the bull’s eye. That was telling enough for the passer-by so that thieves avoided my house. Once, the Sultan came that way. He leaned from his white horse to ask who was this marvellous marksman whom he would like to take in service for his guard. I was brought forth. He asked me how I did to shoot like this. As I had no wish to be taken to military service, I told him the very truth:
“Majesty, “I said, I did the following: first I took my father’s old recurved bow and a quiverfull of tough birch shafts, fletched with long, low turkey feathers. Then I released, leisurely, seven arrows into my fence, boldly, with no concern for where they headed. I even shot again one of them that fell on the ground. When I saw that all seven were firmly sunk into the fence, I took my brush and colours and painted a bull’s eye around each arrow, careful to place the pinhole right around the arrowhead. The rest of the rings were easy to paint up to the last white circle. I am proud to say, O, Sultan, that in this way I never failed.””
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