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Authors: Mika Waltari

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BOOK: The Wanderer
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But Selim ben-Hafs turned a deaf ear and yawned, “Send him to my palace tomorrow. Allah will surely recompense and reward you with his favors.”

The attendants hastened to raise the Sultan from his throne, and we were conducted through the archway into the forecourt. There an old woman approached me, held out a dirty bundle and whispered rapidly, “My name is Fatima. The eunuchs know me, if you inquire for me and give them a trifle. Open this bundle in private and read the letter in it to the one to whom it’s addressed.”

I hid the bundle under my cloak and we returned to Abu el-Kasim’s house, in the street of the spice dealers, where a crowd of wrestlers and others were waiting to acclaim us. They gave presents to Andy and invoked many blessings upon him; but when, with a bad grace, Abu el-Kasim had served them food, he sent them all away and locked the doors. We then attended Andy’s hurts. I feared most for his eye, which was badly swollen, but found that its sight was uninjured.

Remembering the bundle I had been given, I opened it and stared in amazement. Hidden in the dirty rag was a beautiful purse embroidered with silver thread, containing six gold pieces and a scrap of paper. I unfolded this and read a poem in Arabic, written in a graceful hand and, so far as I could understand, having as its theme Andy’s bodily attractions. Abu took it from me and having read it, said, “This was written by a woman, who’s no very eminent poet. But her meaning’s clear. I won’t trouble about the first verses, for they’d only make a simpleton like Andy vainer than he is. But she goes on, ‘Do not repulse a woman sick for love of you, who can but bewail, in her anguish, her inability to conceal the passion that tears her heart. As a token of her good will she sends you these six gold pieces. You have only to consult your guide secretly to learn the time and place for bringing her your answer.’ “

This was by no means the first time that Andy had received a delicate hint of some woman’s favor. The poem aroused pleasant hopes in him and he seemed not altogether sad when next day Abu el-Kasim took him to the palace and handed him over to the Sultan’s attendants.

I saw nothing more of him for a week, and then one day he kicked open our door and swaggered in singing. I thought he had forgotten his good resolutions and was drunk. He was wearing baggy trousers and a kaftan of the very finest cloth. On his head was the tall felt cap of a soldier and at his belt hung a scimitar in a silver scabbard. At first he pretended not to recognize us, and demanded, “What is this hovel, and who are you miserable wretches, slaving here in the sweat of your brow? Do you not see that I’m a man of rank?”

He smelled of musk and looked so unfamiliar in his splendor that even my dog sniffed nervously at his red leather shoes. Abu el-Kasim raised his hands to heaven, crying, “Praise be to Allah! Surely you have brought me presents from Selim ben-Hafs to whom I gave you.”

Andy forgot his play-acting and answered, “Don’t speak to me of that nauseous beast. His memory is shorter than a hen’s; for years he has neglected even his wives, and the poor women complain bitterly, and await the Deliverer’s coming. He sends you no gifts, Abu el- Kasim, having long since forgotten you. He eats so much opium that at times he hardly knows whether he’s awake or dreaming. But I share liberally with my friends, so take this purse as a present from me, Abu el-Kasim.”

He threw into Abu’s arms a purse so heavy that the poor man’s knees sagged beneath it. Then Andy embraced me, and took my dog into his arms; I was horrified to notice that his breath smelled of wine.

“Andy, Andy!” I said. “Have you forgotten all your good resolutions and broken the Prophet’s law?”

He regarded me with shining eyes and replied, “The Prophet’s law is not binding on me so long as I wear the felt cap on my head and the warrior’s sword at my belt. It’s written plainly in the Koran that no one may join in prayer among the faithful when drunk, and may the devil devour me if anyone can get drunk without drinking. This was explained to me by a shrewd and cultured woman, whom I fully rely upon. It was she who persuaded me to drink wine and so overcome my natural bashfulness in her presence. So let’s have no more nonsense, my boy. And Abu el-Kasim! Open a jar of your best, and don’t imagine I don’t know what you have in all those vessels.”

He paid not the smallest attention to my remonstrances. Success had so gone to his head that he forgot his own unhappy experiences of the mischief caused by wine drinking. I was obliged to take a cup myself for consolation. And at last when Abu el-Kasim noted how the wine was disappearing he went and locked the door, after which he too filled a goblet, saying, “Since fate has decreed that my valuable wine be wasted, let me at least mitigate the loss by enjoying some of it myself. And since we’re alone within these four walls where none can see us, it can hardly be accounted to us for sin, for we give no scandal.”

The strong wine soon dispelled his regret for its loss, and when I urged Andy to tell us what had happened to him, he began thus: “When Abu el-Kasim had left me at the mercy of the servants, I sat alone for a long time, bewailing my fate like a young raven fallen from its nest. No one asked my name or gave me anything to eat. Only the shameless boys blinked their painted eyelids at me, and pointed and put out their tongues, and pinched me each in turn. Then an old woman called Fatima came in; she comforted me and assured me that all would turn out for the best if I would only have patience and wait. The Court of Bliss must of course remain closed to me, but she told me to walk up and down before the gate and gaze at the latticed windows, and assured me that benevolent glances would follow me from behind the reed blinds. At dusk she returned and led me to an iron door, which opened silently, and we stepped into a sweet-smelling room where she left me. The walls and floor were covered with valuable rugs, and strange to say when the woman had gone I couldn’t find the door, search as I would.

“As nothing further happened I grew hungry and tired; I stretched myself out on a bed that was there and fell asleep. When I awoke, the room was lit by many perfumed lamps and beside me sat a veiled woman who held my fist in her plump hands, and sighed. She addressed me in a language I didn’t know. I answered by reciting a poem with great difficulty, which Abu here had taught me. After that we exchanged a few words in the Frankish talk they use in the city—which must be the oldest in the world, since it evidently dates from the great confusion of Babel. For something to do, I pulled the veil from her face. She tried to prevent me—but not very hard. I must admit that she was beautiful and quite to my taste, though not exactly a chicken. Presently Fatima entered and set before us a number of delectable dishes—which reminds me that I’m hungry, and long for a good solid meal after all those delicacies.”

I brought him food, and at the sight of the familiar cooking pot Andy uttered joyful exclamations, and then continued, “When we had eaten I took this understanding lady’s hand, to show my good will. She sighed deeply, and so did I, for I saw that such was the custom. At this Fatima took pity on us and brought a jug of wine and a cup, after which the lady read to me from the Koran and expounded it more competently than many a scholar, so that I soon overcame my misgivings and distaste, and drank cautiously. Besides, I was confused at finding myself in such company, and hoped that the wine would help me to vanquish my bashfulness. I can’t speak of all that happened, but this I can say: we soon found that we had much in common. We were obliged to rise and wash ourselves, in compliance with the Koran, and refresh ourselves with reviving perfumes. This happened many times, until the obliging Fatima became impatient. She had never a wink of sleep and was constantly running up and down the steep stairs with buckets of water. She urged us in the name of Allah to make an end of our incautious behavior, as the cocks were crowing and the hour of the morning prayer was near. She was sent to fetch these clothes for me, for my own rags had long ago been flung into a corner.”

Andy lowered his eyes modestly, and having fished up a piece of mutton from the pot he went on, “Fatima took my hand, opened the iron door, and led me out, calling down the blessing of Allah upon me. And the blessings bore fruit, for in my new clothes I found a purse, into which my delicate-minded lady had slipped a gold coin each time I washed myself. I felt I could well spare two out of the seventeen gold pieces for the faithful Fatima who had so zealously served us. I wandered about the courtyard for a time, but felt just the least bit tired—and perhaps also a little muzzy, not having tasted wine for a good half-year. As I now wore a sword, and supposed that the men in the barracks would pay little attention to a slight deviation from the true path, I went and found an empty bed in the barracks. No one was surprised to see me; on the contrary they made me welcome with deep salaams, and the other inmates hastened to clear their belongings out of my way. There’s no more to tell.”

Abu el-Kasim passed the wine jar round again. Lifting the purse in his hands he said doubtfully, “Allah is great. You spoke of seventeen gold pieces, but if I’m not mistaken this purse contains at least a hundred.”

Andy turned very red and avoided my eye. Then he said somewhat hesitantly, “Well, that first evening in barracks I’d hardly risen from the prayer mat when Fatima appeared again, pulled at my sleeve, and with many tender expressions summoned me to the same agreeable occupation. At daybreak I was much richer than I had been on the previous evening. But Fatima is a frail old thing, and being wearied by the continual water carrying she invited me to come that evening straight to the Sultan’s bathroom. With a bundle of firewood on my back I passed straight through the Gateway of Bliss, and the eunuchs readily showed me the way. I spent an agreeable night in that warm place, and lacked neither food nor drink. When day dawned, the understanding lady raised her hands to heaven and said, ‘Allah is great. I have a good and trustworthy woman friend who won’t believe what I say of you. Allow me, therefore, my dear Antar—’ these were her very words—’allow me therefore to bring this skeptical woman with me to the bath.’ “

“Andy!” I exclaimed, much shaken. “You shock me unspeakably. To comfort one lonely and open-handed woman is one thing, but to lure another into your shamelessness is another. You go too far.”

“Exactly what I said,” agreed Andy hastily. “But this devout woman recited so many verses from the Koran and expounded them so fully that my head was in a whirl; moreover she was a woman of education, and I could hardly set myself up to know more than she did.”

“Great Allah!” exclaimed Abu el-Kasim. But Andy continued, the back of his neck growing ever redder, “The lady appeared that evening with her friend; and I didn’t regret it, for this woman was if possible even more luscious than Amina. And I think that neither of them was dissatisfied with me. The other lady also, with equal delicacy, put a gold piece in my purse each time I washed. But—” and here Andy groaned—”how could I guess on the following night no fewer than three woman would preen themselves before me, each lovelier and more blooming than the other! It was hard not to offend any of them, and favor one at the expense of the rest. But when on the night after that, four came, I was annoyed, and told them that there was a limit to everything.”

“And you were quite right,” assented Abu el-Kasim in alarm. “The pitcher can go once too often to the well, and I feel really anxious on your account.”

Andy swallowed another cupful of wine and continued, “In the morning Amina said, ‘You have four devoted wives, Antar, and you’ve neglected none of them, but have observed the injunctions of the Koran concerning behavior to a woman. But my moon is waning, and I wish no one to have pleasure of you in my absence. I shall love you to my last hour. Eat and drink diligently that you may be at the height of your powers when next I summon you.’“

I was struck dumb by his story and could not utter a word. Abu el-Kasim finished counting the money and locked it up carefully in his strongbox. At last I stammered in the greatest agitation, “Is this the thanks I get for having tried to set you a good example all these years? Never could I have believed that the poetic art could cause so much harm, for all this began with a scrap of verse that according to Abu was not even good. Now I understand why the Prophet, blessed be his name, laid his curse upon poets.”

I was so angry with Andy that I could have struck him—most of all because he had won the favor of four distinguished ladies and, as a reward for his sin, a bag of gold—while I knew not a single friendly disposed woman who desired my company, even for nothing. But Andy was unmoved. He rose and left us, his baggy trousers flapping in the spring breeze. Abu el-Kasim gazed after him and said with a shake of his monkey head, “His foolishness and audacity may be very useful to us, but I daren’t whisper any of our plans to him, for those women would have it out of him in no time. Michael el-Hakim, the time is nearly ripe, the spring winds are blowing, and the Deliverer comes from the sea. So let’s leave ointments and eye black and think of graver matters. We will capture the city of Algiers with our bare hands as we promised Sinan the Jew.”

Next day Abu el-Kasim summoned some of the wealthiest merchants, entertained them on a princely scale, and let Giulia gaze into the sand for them. When they had heard her these respectable men tore their beards and said, “If it were true! If the holy banner of the Prophet should really rise from the sea to free us from the greed of

Selim ben-Hafs! But his soldiers have keen swords, and his executioners stout ropes at their disposal.”

Abu el-Kasim tore his own beard and said, “I’m a merchant like yourselves and make many journeys. At such times I hear much that remains unknown to the rich and mighty. Last autumn it was already said that the great Khaireddin was fitting out his fleet to recapture Algiers for the High Porte before the figs were ripe. I’m anxious on your account, as you’re wealthier than myself, and have more to lose. For if the great Khaireddin should meet with opposition, the last state will be worse than the first. Personally I fail to understand why anyone should risk his business and his property for these infernal Hafsids.”

BOOK: The Wanderer
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