The Abyssinian Proof

43

The guard at the Imperial Museum put down his rifle and unlocked the front door. He looked up at the Arabic inscription over the lintel. He couldn’t read it, but assumed it was a verse from the Quran, so he said a silent prayer before stepping across the threshold. Inside, the other guard was asleep in his chair. He nudged him and went into the kitchen to prepare the morning’s tea. It took him several minutes to light the brazier, set the water to boil in the bottom of the double-boiler teapot, and pour a cup of black tea leaves into the top. He stared out of the window, looking at nothing particular, but letting the golds and russets of autumn fill his eyes. When the water was hot, he poured enough over the tea leaves to cover them, put the teapot back on the boiler, and set it on the coals to brew for another twenty minutes. He glanced at the lay of the light to judge the time, then went back into the main room. He wanted to ask the other guard’s advice about finding an apprenticeship for his son. It was time he learned a trade.

The other man was still asleep, head on his chest, arms loose in his lap. When the guard pushed his shoulder, he slumped further, then slid from the chair onto the floor.

Kamil held his head in his hands. Standing before him was Hamdi Bey, his usually impeccable cravat askew and his vest buttons wrongly done up.

“It’s gone,” Hamdi Bey repeated.

Kamil stood and walked around his desk, his headache flaring with each step. He offered Hamdi Bey a seat and some refreshment, but the old man wagged his gray beard and refused to be coddled.

“What happened?” Kamil asked, bracing himself against a table and wishing Hamdi Bey would sit so that he could.

“Someone drugged the guard.”

“With food?”

“I don’t know,” Hamdi Bey cried out in bewilderment. “There was no food anywhere. Just dregs of tea. We tested them and they’re just tea. The man has always been completely reliable.”

“How is he?” Kamil asked.

“He’s delirious. He’s babbling about having been visited by an angel who showed him the gardens of paradise.” Hamdi Bey peeled off his thin leather gloves. “I think the strain of watching the Proof of God must have been too much for him.”

Kamil was surprised. “Does he know what it is?”

“We never told the guards what it was, but in the absence of real information, rumors are passed around.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other guard told me that they thought they were guarding a prophecy revealed to the Prophet Muhammad by an angel.”

“But that’s the Quran.”

“I know. They think this is a newly revealed sura.” He put on his pince-nez as if that would clarify matters, then took them off again and massaged between his eyes.

“They’re simple men,” he decided finally. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Now I have to go tell Ismail Hodja.”

Kamil stood at the window watching Hamdi Bey get into his carriage. When the horses moved off into the traffic, Kamil slammed his fist into the sill.