The Wanderer (12 page)

Again he nodded, and asked, “How do you perform the purification when preparing yourself for prayer?”

“I have been taught that there are six requirements for the partial ablution: announcement of intention, the washing of the face, hands, and arms to the elbows; the drying of the head and the washing of the feet to the ankle bones, all in the proper order. But the following ten actions are meritorious—to wash the hands before dipping them in the bowl; to rinse the mouth; to rinse the nose by sniffing up water; to wash the whole head and cleanse the ears inside and out; to comb the beard with the fingers; to spread out fingers and toes when washing them; to wash the right hand and right foot before the left hand and left foot and to repeat all this thrice in succession.”

The Faqih sucked dates, his eyes half closed.

“What do you repeat after the ablution?”

“After the ablution I say, ‘I bear witness that there is no God but Allah. He is one and indivisible and Mohammed is his servant and Prophet. O Lord, grant me to be among the penitent, grant me to be of the company of the pure. Praise be to Allah! To his glory I declare that there is no other God than he. Before his face I plead for mercy and repent of my evil deeds.’ According to the sacred tradition, the Prophet with his own mouth has proclaimed, ‘For him who pronounces these words after every ablution the eight gates of Paradise stand open, and he may enter through which one he pleases.’“

So I ended, feeling well satisfied with myself for having been able to recite these important prayers. But the Faqih suddenly opened his eyes, spat out a date stone and said angrily, “You speak the holy words like a parrot, and prate of Paradise when you’re not even circumcised.”

I choked. Many renegades submitted to circumcision after only an hour or two of instruction, to be done with it, but I had hesitated to undergo this unpleasing ordeal, and hoped I might succeed in evading it altogether.

Having thus thoroughly frightened me, the Faqih went on in triumph, “If you’d been speaking from the heart instead of from the hps you would long since have become united to Islam through the outward token of circumcision. Islam does not ask after a man’s nation, nor after the color of his skin, for all races and colors are united by that sign. But you’re only a slave, and perhaps your master is to blame for the omission. I hear that he’s a wealthy dealer in drugs, named Abu el-Kasim, and that he owns a Christian woman. Her eyes are said to be of different colors, and therefore she is able to see coming events in a bowl of sand. And I am told that the women of the harem run to the public bathhouse to meet her, and reward her richly for foretelling the future for them. Is this true?”

“Venerable and learned Faqih,” I exclaimed, “may Allah of his grace preserve me from spying in the bathhouse during women’s bathing hours!”

“Don’t prevaricate! I’ve heard that it is so. But whether the gift is from Allah or the devil, or whether she’s a charlatan, your master must have a
fatwa
for her, or else lock her up.”
 

I was shocked at his greed, and losing all veneration for him I looked up and said, “My master may have forgotten, but he’ll no doubt offer you a gift proportionate to his means, on receiving from you the necessary
fatwa.
But the taxgatherer has squeezed him dry, and not even by force could you extort from him more than a couple of gold pieces.”
 

Tears of indignation rose to my eyes as I reflected what vile cheats there were in the world. But the Faqih raised his head and said, “Before issuing this
fatu/a
I must see the slave woman, but she must not give scandal by coming here. After the evening prayer on Friday I will visit Abu el-Kasim’s house and he is not to receive me with the honor befitting my rank. I shall come secretly, with my face hidden. Take this message to Abu el-Kasim. Perhaps I will be content with fifty pieces of gold, for Allah is merciful and gracious.”
 

I wondered what was really in his mind, for I had grown accustomed to the habit common to the people of Islam of never speaking out. But Abu el-Kasim was delighted at the message, and said, “Things are going better than I could have hoped, and Sinan the Jew was indeed wise to provide me with such good bait for my hooks. For this day’s work I’ll give you a new turban and a white robe, and so acquire merit.”

I asked in surprise, “How can you rejoice that this greedy Faqih comes to rob you?”

Abu el-Kasim answered, “Of course he wants money. He’s no more than human. But his curiosity is as strong as his greed. He must surely have heard the nature of the visions that our Delilah sees in the sand, and now wishes to observe for himself which way the wind blows, so as to gather all safely in before the storm.”

When Friday came, Abu el-Kasim bade Giulia roast some ptarmigan, and not stint pepper, cloves, or nutmeg. I bought sugar cakes from the pastry cook and filled a bowl with fruit and sweetmeats, sprinkling over these a white powder that gave them a fiery taste and induced thirst. Abu chilled the drinking water and flavored it with stimulating spices. Then—most important preparation of all—he told Giulia what to say, warning her against giving herself into the power of evil spirits and seeing profitless visions.

After the evening prayer the Faqih arrived, his face hidden by a corner of his cloak, and knocked on the door with his staff. On entering he sniffed the good smells with pleasure, and drawing forth his beard which he had tucked under his belt he stroked it and said reproachfully, “Prayer is better than savory food, and I would be loath to cause you any trouble, Abu el-Kasim. A fig or two and a bowl of water are enough for me.”

Nevertheless, after much voluble protest he allowed us to set the dishes before him, and ate slowly and purposefully until they were empty. Abu el-Kasim served him and poured water over his hands. Then he proffered a beautifully embroidered silken bag, saying, “This purse contains twenty pieces of gold which I hope you’ll accept as a present. Believe me, they’re all I possess, but I won’t forget to make you further free-will offerings when I have more. Now I have a slave woman about whom I would ask your advice, to ensure against any infringement of the law. Her eyes are of different colors and she can see strange things in sand.”

The Faqih nodded, weighed the bag in his hand, and tucked it thoughtfully under his girdle. Abu el-Kasim led in Giulia by the hand, drew aside her veil and held up a lamp that the Faqih might see better.

“Allah is great!” said the Faqih in wonder. “Never have I seen anything of the kind. But with God all things are possible—and indeed it would amount to a Persian heresy to say that evil spirits were more powerful than Allah, and could bring about such a miracle against the divine will.”

Careless of cost, Abu el-Kasim threw a pinch of genuine ambergris onto the brazier; then he poured fine sand into a large copper dish and ordered Giulia to stir it with her finger. And as she gazed down into the dish she fell into a trance and began to speak in an altered voice. But I was now used to this, and neither believed nor feared.

“I see turbulent waters—out of the sea rises the banner of the Prophet. Indeed, the banner of the Prophet rises from the waves, and the Deliverer comes from the sea.”

“Do you speak to me, heathen woman?” demanded the Faqih in astonishment. “I don’t understand you, for the banner of the Prophet is kept in the Seraglio of the Great Sultan.”

Ignoring this, Giulia went on quickly and earnestly, “Out of the sea come ten asses with silver bits and silver bells. Ten camels follow—the camels have golden saddles and are laden with gifts for you, O Faqih. I see the waters full of ships. They are laden with plunder and sail into the harbor, and from their plunder generous alms are brought to you in the mosque; the hunters of the sea offer liberally of their booty and build splendid mosques and fountains. The king of the sea founds schools and hospitals and endows them richly, and the teacher shall not suffer want under his rule. But Faqih, Faqih! Before all this comes to pass, there is blood.”

The Faqih had been eagerly listening, but now he fingered his beard uneasily and said, “Blood? Foolish woman, do you indeed see blood? If so I suspect that an evil spirit speaks through your lips.”

“I see blood,” she went on. “A little pool of black, evil blood that doesn’t even soil the hem of your cloak—it sticks to your shoes. And so you change your shoes—you throw the old ones away and put on new ones—new shoes of red, scented leather. They’re adorned with precious stones—after that day there is no richer Faqih than yourself. Your name flies over the seas and the banner of the Prophet shields you from the wrath of the unbelievers. All this I see in the sand, old man, but no more—unless it be a cedarwood coffin with a turban upon it, to which pilgrims, remembering the great Faqih, come and pray from far distant lands and so acquire merit.”

Giulia covered her eyes with both hands and moaned as if she had had a bad dream. But the Faqih was in no way dismayed by the talk of a coffin; on the contrary the prophecy flattered him, and he said, “These predictions are remarkable, but I hardly think we need put much faith in them. They may have more to do with you, Abu el- Kasim, than with me, and I hardly know what to think; for a poor drug merchant would hardly pay twenty gold pieces just for advice. Let’s have no more beating about the bush; dismiss your slaves that we may talk alone together with none but Allah to hear us.”

Abu el-Kasim sent us away at once and locked the door, setting Andy to guard the outer gate. The learned Faqih remained until late that night, and when at last he departed as secretly as he had come, Abu el-Kasim sent Giulia to bed and summoned me.

“The plans are taking shape,” he said. “Have no fear, Michael el- Hakim; whatever happens the Faqih won’t betray us. True, he won’t risk burning his fingers by making out a
fatwa
for Delilah, but neither will he interfere, and she may continue plying her trade in the bathhouse.”
 

Thus Abu el-Kasim drew cautiously at first one thread and then another, knotting them together in a net in whose meshes Selim ben- Hafs would one day be entangled.

But the Faqih’s threats concerning circumcision had filled me with dread and I asked Abu el-Kasim whether Andy and I must indeed submit to so unpleasant an operation. He looked at us scornfully, and having rehearsed the many advantages to be gained by it he ended, “Why oppose it, when by such a trifle you may win the respect of all true believers? On that joyful day you may ride round the city on a white donkey and all devout believers will bring you presents and rejoice at your conversion.”

I replied crossly that I had not the least wish to ride round the city on a white donkey, to be made a public laughingstock, and reminded him that Andy’s progress as a wrestler would be seriously hindered if at this stage he were compelled to lie up with a slow-healing wound in his tenderest part. And I would never consider undergoing it without him, for we were brothers; we hoped to enter Paradise side by side and together enjoy the shade of its fruit trees.

Abu el-Kasim was not deceived by my pious words, and said, “Well! There’s a time for everything, and I shall eagerly await the day when, in accordance with the will of Allah, your brother justifies the high hopes I have of him.”

Nor did he have to wait long. Some days later he climbed on Andy’s shoulders and rode to the market place, and hardly had the wrestlers gathered in a ring with their arms about each other’s shoulders to determine the order of the bouts when a big black fellow appeared, attended by a party of soldiers. He threw out his chest and thumped it with his fists as he challenged, “Iskender, Iskender! Come here and have your ears torn off! After that I’ll attend to Antar, of whom I’ve heard so much.”

The wrestlers muttered uneasily among themselves, and warned Andy, saying, “That is Selim ben-Hafs’s master wrestler. Don’t anger him; let him win and take the money, for then perhaps he’ll leave us in peace and not hurt us. But if you win you’ll be summoned to wrestle before the Sultan, and although at first you may get the better of all his wrestlers, the day will come when you find yourself lying in the sand with a broken neck.”

Andy answered warmly, “Your faith seems weak; you forget that Allah has preordained all things. Go, Iskender, and let him beat you! Then I will tackle him and you shall behold such a match as you’ve never seen before. If it be the will of Allah, this shall be my last bout in the market place; after that I shall appear only before the Sultan and his court.”

At this, great excitement arose among the wrestlers’ patrons, and silver and gold pieces showered onto the cloth. The soldiers formed a circle and thrust back the onlookers, while the Sultan’s master wrestler, ugly and gleaming with oil, jumped up and down in the middle and roared his challenge. Iskender, adjuring him in the name of Allah to observe the rules of “good” wrestling, ran in at him, but it was not long before he was tossed into the air, and fell with a crash. He lay moaning for some time, feeling his arms and legs, but I think he was little harmed by the fall, and behaved thus to flatter his ferocious opponent. Two other men stepped forward and the master wrestler threw them without difficulty. But when he noticed that he was beginning to sweat and pant, he became suspicious and cried, “Where’s that Antar skulking? He’s the man I came for, and I shan’t stay all day for him. My bath awaits me.”

Ignoring the warnings of the rest Andy at once stepped forward. It was clear that the black man held him in great respect, for he circled watchfully about him for some time before suddenly charging in like a bull with his head lowered, meaning to butt Andy in the stomach and wind him. But Andy stepped nimbly aside and getting a mighty grip of the other’s waist flung him high in the air. Like the adept he was, however, he landed on his feet, but at once Andy struck them from under him and he came headlong to the ground with Andy uppermost. Andy took firm hold of the back of his neck and pressing his face to the ground, he cried, “Which of us is biting the dust?”