The Saffron Gate (34 page)

^{Suddenly my skirt was yanked, almost violently, and I gasped. Three small children — no older than four or five — stood around me, pointing small, dirty fingers into their open mouths, screeching
Manger! Manger, madame!}

^{I opened my purse to give them a few small coins, and at that gesture the smallest of the children leapt as if to take it. I held my purse against my chest, and the child cried, piteously,
Bonbon, madame, bonbon!}

^{'Wait, wait,' I said. 'I have no candy.' I dropped a few sous on to the ground, because the children made it impossible to put them into their hands, clinging to my skirt and jumping up and down. As they stooped to gather the coins, I pulled free and hurried away, but suddenly there were more children running after me, again grabbing at my skirt. I tried to ignore them, because I had only two sous left in my bag — I hadn't thought to bring much money with me.}

^{'Non,
non
,' I said, trying to free myself from their hands, and suddenly, as I reached the end of the alley, I was back in D'jemma el Fna. But the children persisted, and as I pushed their little hands from my skirt, there was a flurry near my ear, and a weight on my shoulder. Shocked, I turned my head and stared into a tiny scowling face next to mine. I shrieked involuntarily, and the little thing also screeched in response, so loudly that I was momentarily deafened. It was a monkey, I told myself, only a monkey}

^{And yet the children still beseeched, still clustered around me jerking my skirt. The monkey was pulling at my hair. I couldn't catch my breath, couldn't call out.}

^{A voice shouted in Arabic, and the children scattered. I stood, trembling, my face wet with perspiration, the monkey still perched on my shoulder.}

^{'Madame, oh madame, this is truly good luck,' said the man who had run off the children. He held a long chain, and the chain led to a leather band around the monkey's neck. 'I am Mohammed, and my monkey, Hasi, has chosen you,' he told me. 'If you give a sou, only one sou, madame, your luck will be threefold. Oh, it is a blessed day that Hasi has chosen you. He has chosen you because he knows you are the possessor of a good soul. This Hasi knows. He goes only to the good.'}

^{I knew the monkey would jump on anyone Mohammed directed him to. Hasi now slid down my arm, looking up at me. I saw how the band bit into his little neck, the fur worn away there and the skin raw. He bared his pointed teeth in a smiling grimace, putting his tiny hand out, palm up.}

^{'Madame,' Mohammed entreated. His eyes were small and oily. 'You must wish for this good luck. Only a fool would turn down such an opportunity. Tell the good lady, Hasi, tell her she must not let this opportunity pass.'}

^{Hasi made a sad chuckling in his throat, his fingers — no bigger than wooden matchsticks — now plucking at my sleeve.}

^{I reached into my bag and put a sou into that minute, almost human hand, and was rewarded with an ear-splitting screech. Hasi clambered back up my arm and on to my shoulder, jumping in one long leap on to Mohammed's' chest. One of his toenails scratched my neck. In a practised routine, he tucked the coin into the pocket of the vest Mohammed wore over his robe. Then he pressed his teeth against Mohammed's ear, grimacing again and making his chuckling sound. Mohammed nodded seriously.}

^{'Madame, Hasi has informed me that a change will now take place in your life. An important change. You will find it here, in Morocco.'}

^{I knew it was nonsense. And yet I couldn't help myself. My neck stung from Hasi's toenail. 'What kind of change?'}

^{Mohammed rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. 'Hasi needs another sou to divulge what he knows,' he said, and I dug in my bag, handing over my last coin to those tiny black fingers. Quick as a flash it was deposited in Mohammed's pocket, and again the chattering into Mohammed's ear.}

^{'Ah. This is a story I have not heard from Hasi before, madame. A significant tale. You have come to Marrakesh to find something. You have lost something, something of importance. Am I not right? I see from your face that you know Hasi speaks the truth.'}

^{I didn't respond for a moment, then shook my head, sure that Mohammed told every foreigner this story, and not wanting him to know that, with me, he had actually hit upon a truth.}

^{'Vraiment?
Truly, madame? You deny this? Because Hasi tells me that you are sad, but this will soon change. Very soon. Under the Southern Cross you will understand that what you look for may take a different shape. You may not recognise it.'}

^{'The Southern Cross?'}

^{Mohammed squinted at the sky. 'The constellation, madame. Here, in Africa. The Southern Cross. You look for it in the night sky. And under it you will find what you search for. But remember, madame, remember, here are the Others, the
djinns.
They masquerade in human form. Be careful. Be very careful you do not choose unwisely.'}

^{Hasi screamed, jumping up and down.}

^{The sound pierced my ears. I closed my eyes, images coming unbidden: Hasi's cheerless little grimace, his open mouth and tiny pointed teeth, then the open mouths of the beggar children. The pulled teeth and the grinning tooth-puller with his pliers.}

^{I opened my eyes and saw a row of skinned heads; for one horrible instant I thought of the decapitated heads Mr. Russell had mentioned. My stomach cramped as though I might be sick, and I instinctively crossed myself. In the next instant I saw they were not human, but goat heads, blue arid buzzing with flies, their eyeballs still intact and protruding. They sat in a row on a low table. A man in a torn djellaba motioned me towards them, nodding.}

^{Shakily I walked away. I couldn't faint here, fall to the filthy ground. What would happen to me if I did?}

^{'Come back, madame,' Mohammed called after me.' For only one more sou, Hasi will tell you more; he will tell you something of the utmost importance, something you need to protect yourself from the Others. Only one sou, madame.'}

^{I kept walking, stumbling now and then. I touched the smarting slash on my neck and stared at the smear of blood on my fingers. When I saw the tall minaret of the mosque of La Koutoubia, I kept my eyes fixed on it, knowing it would lead me to the gates and out of the medina. I walked as quickly as I could, my bag clutched against my chest, my hair falling from its pins, the back of my dress wet from the heat and my own sudden and unexplained fear. I dragged my uncooperative foot; if it had been possible, I would have run.}

^NINETEEN

^{I
spent the evening telling
myself that I would return to the medina, and not be driven out by unfriendly stares or unwelcome touches or sights and sounds that shocked me. I was strong, I told myself.}

^{And besides, I had no choice.}

^{The next morning I once again set out for the gates that led into the medina. I looked up at La Koutoubia, and then, taking a deep breath, walked under the portals for the second time.}

^{This time I didn't stop, ignoring the cries of the begging children and the clanging bells of the water-carriers, with their high domed hats and their brass cups and goatskins of water. I walked past the tooth-puller, and pushed through a crowd of young men gathered around a snake-charmer with his flute and baskets of writhing, rising snakes, jerking away when I felt a hand stroke my upper arm, not looking back to see who had touched me.}

^{I hurried from the square and into the souks, moving from stall to stall, saying
Duverger, Duverger, do you know the Duvergers?
Finally one man unfolded his arms and picked up a pair of bright orange
babouches,
studying me. 'These shoes will fit you, madame,' he said in French. 'Good shoes; I sell only the best shoes in Marrakesh. I know French, and Spanish, and English,' he said. 'I have travelled many places. Where are you from? England?'}

^{'America,' I said, and he nodded.}

^{'Ah, America. I once had a beautiful American bride. She was my third wife. But she returned to her home.'}

^{I nodded, although I didn't know if I believed his story. The whites of his eyes were yellow, and he smelled strongly of garlic. 'Good, good,' I said. 'But the Duvergers. . . do you know of them?'}

^{'I knew Monsieur le Docteur,' he said.}

^{'Yes? You knew him? Dr Etienne Duverger?' I said it calmly. Instinctively, I didn't want this man to know the importance of his words.}

^{'What about the
babouches,
madame? You will buy them?'}

^{I took the orange slippers from his hands. 'Yes, yes, I'll buy them. But please, what do you know of Dr Duverger?'}

^{He shrugged. 'First we must discuss what price you will offer. We will have tea, and discuss,' he said, waving his hand in the air. I shook my head, but a boy of about ten appeared beside me. The man spoke in Arabic, and the boy ran off. 'He will bring tea. Sit, sit, madame,' he said, lifting a pile of brightly dyed
babouches
off a low bench. 'Here. Sit, and we will drink tea and discuss the price.'}

^{All I wanted was for him to answer my questions, but I realised I must play the game first. I sat down. The shop was only about ten feet long and three feet wide; the smell of the dyed leather was strong. 'Please, monsieur. About Dr Duverger.'}

^{'I knew Monsieur le Docteur Duverger,' he repeated. 'He came to the souks to buy
kif
and leather goods. He came to my stall because I speak French. Of course, that was before. Afterwards . . .' he threw up his hands, 'nobody saw him.'}

^{'What do you mean, afterwards?'}

^{'His illness. He did not leave his house.'}

^{'What illness?'}

^{'Madame, that is all I know. You asked if I knew the Duvergers. I told you yes, I knew the old man Duverger, who had the sickness.'}

^{Disappointment rose in my throat, sour as the garlic on the man's breath.}

^{'The old man?' I said. 'Not the son? Not Etienne?'}

^{'I found for him the
kif
he
wanted, when he could still walk in the souks. We drank tea. Now you and I will drink tea. Soon my nephew will return with it. Maybe you will buy two pairs of
babouches.
One for your husband. Maybe three pairs. For three pairs I make you a good price. Best
babouches
in Marrakesh; best prices. And my cousin sells kaftans, best kaftans in Marrakesh. You wish to buy kaftan? Silk? Velvet? What kaftan you like? I call my cousin after tea; he show you beautiful kaftan.You buy from him; he has the best. Don't listen to other men. Their kaftans are not like my cousin's.'}