He was mounted on a white charger, who had a bit and shoes of gold, his housing was of blue satin embroidered with pearls; the hilt of his scimitar was of one single diamond, and the scabbard of sandal-wood, adorned with emeralds and rubies, and on his shoulder he carried his bow and quiver.  In this equipage, which greatly set off his handsome person, he arrived at the city of Harran, and soon found means to offer his service to the sultan; who being charmed with his beauty and promising appearance, and perhaps indeed by natural sympathy, gave him a favourable reception, and asked his name and quality.  “Sir,” answered Codadad, “I am son to an emir of Grand Cairo; an inclination to travel has made me quit my country, and understanding, in my passage through your dominions, that you were engaged in war, I am come to your court to offer your majesty my service.”  The sultan shewed him extraordinary kindness, and gave him a command in his army.

The young prince soon signalized his bravery.  He gained the esteem of the officers, and was admired by the soldiers.  Having no less wit than courage, he so far advanced himself in the sultan’s esteem, as to become his favourite.  All the ministers and other courtiers daily resorted to Codadad, and were so eager to purchase his friendship, that they neglected the sultan’s sons.  The princes could not but resent this conduct, and imputing it to the stranger, all conceived an implacable hatred against him; but the sultan’s affection daily increasing, he was never weary of giving him fresh testimonies of his regard.  He always would have him near his person; admired his conversation, ever full of wit and discretion; and to shew his high opinion of his wisdom and prudence, committed to his care the other princes, though he was of the same age as they; so that Codadad was made governor of his brothers.

This only served to heighten their hatred.  “Is it come to this,” said they, “that the sultan, not satisfied with loving a stranger more than us, will have him to be our governor, and not allow us to act without his leave? this is not to be endured.  We must rid ourselves of this foreigner.”  “Let us go together,” said one of them, “and dispatch him.”  “No, no,” answered another; “we had better be cautious how we sacrifice ourselves.  His death would render us odious to the sultan, who in return would declare us all unworthy to reign.  Let us destroy him by some stratagem.  We will ask his permission to hunt, and when at a distance from the palace, proceed to some other city, and stay there some time.  The sultan will wonder at our absence, and perceiving we do not return, perhaps put the stranger to death, or at least will banish him from court, for suffering us to leave the palace.”