Page 73 - Arabiab Studies (IV)
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A St. George of Dhofar                                  63
       version of the story given by me above, makes him a rather
       impersonal, even distant, hero. Certainly he is not anxious to get
       into the limelight. He assigns watches to his companions. This,
       incidentally, is the way that co-operative work is done in Dhofar: a
       leader assigns tasks, but it seems he must have the agreement of
       those on whose co-operation he is relying. Abu Zayd does
       somewhat casually administer the coup de gr&ce to the great snake
       but only when his companions have tested their nerve in previous
       encounters with it.
         The great size of the snake is indicated by the fact that they
       have to retire hastily to avoid being washed away by its blood. This
       again is a conventional image, found in the early European heroic
       literature in the saga of the Volsungs, for example, when Sigurd
       kills the dragon.18 Sigurd digs pits to drain off Fafnir’s blood but he
       is still immersed up to his armpits in blood when he strikes his
       blow.
         Abu Zayd again shuns the limelight when he turns up in ragged
       clothes at the leaping contest to redeem the severed head. He
       allows himself to be persuaded to leap but modestly refuses all
       reward.
         The companion who takes the first watch of the night is hardly
       delineated at all. We are not told his name and, because of the
       ambiguous use of the name Bayt Abu Zayd al-Hilall, it is not even
       certain that he is a Hilall. All we know is that he has the gall to
       persuade the great snake that the stakes with which he props open
       its jaws are its supper, and to keep up this pretence for a third of
       the night.
         The second watchman is more interesting, in that he is the one
       of the three whose qualities arc most clearly supernatural. Like
       many heroes he is eminent for his beauty,19 and a light shines from
       his face as the ceaseless fire burned over the head of the mighty
       Achilles.20 The moonlight of his face he must keep veiled unless he
       wishes to affect the wits of the spectator. The sweetness of his song
       and the lifting of one veil are enough to keep the poor serpent
       bemused during the second watch of the night.
         The folk-tale as it is presented here is full of conventional
       elements, the test, the quest, the dragon and the dragon’s blood,
       Abu Zayd, the poltroon, the miraculous companion, another
       companion, bringing the number of the company to three, the
       great leap, and so on.
         It does not preserve as much detail as the cycles recited by the
       professional tale-tellers which are fairly easily available in uncriti­
       cal editions. This could hardly be expected. What is interesting
       rather is that so much survives, even when there is no especial need
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