The mystic rose

CHAPTER SEVEN

'Sharifah!' cried Abu Sharma, his voice loud in the courtyard. 'Come quickly!'

Cait awakened at the sound. The chamber door was open to the courtyard outside. 'Thea!' she muttered.

Rising, she pulled on her shoes and hurried out to find the courtyard filled with the horses, camels, and baggage of a caravan of Arab merchants newly arrived in the city. The travellers, dressed in dark robes and pale yellow turbans, were standing in the yard overseeing the unloading of their pack animals while the innkeeper passed among them with cups of lemon water and tiny honey cakes. The sun was hovering above the rooftops, and the heat of the day slowly fading.

'Here, sharifah,' Abu called again. 'Come and see what I have done for you!'

The young physician and the old pilot stood holding a small wooden casket between them. Otti loomed behind in an attitude of hovering protection. Haemur was grinning like a child with a naughty secret, and Abu was puffed up and strutting like a cockerel. Alethea stood nearby, gawking at the Arab travellers in their opulent, richly patterned robes. The younger men among the merchants were, in turn, ogling Alethea who, owing to the heat, had put off her mantle and come out wearing only her undershirt; her long smooth arms were exposed and her legs bare from her shapely calves to her slender ankles.

'Thea! Get inside,' Cait ordered. To Abu and Haemur she said, 'Bring it in. There may still be a few people in Damascus who have yet to learn our business. Perhaps we might keep it that way.'

The two men lugged the chest into Cait's room, and lay it at her feet. The others crowded around as Abu pulled the hook from the hasp and swung the lid back on its hinges. 'Behold!' he cried. 'Silver and gold for her majesty!'

Indeed, the casket was filled with silver dirhams and a scattering of gold dinars. 'How much is here?' asked Alethea excitedly, her eyes wide at the sight of so much money.

'Thirty-three thousand dirhams,' replied Haemur with unaccustomed enthusiasm. 'It was all Abu's doing. You should have seen him, my lady; he bargained like a champion -'

'That is me: Abu Sharma, Champion of the Bazaar!'

Otti laughed out loud. 'He is crazy, this one.'

'That may well be,' agreed Cait, removing a handful of coins from the chest.

'But this is wonderful, Cait,' said Alethea. 'Do you not think so?'

'I am delighted.' She counted out coins amounting to eight thousand dirhams, put them in a leather bag which she tied, and returned the rest to the box. To Abu and Haemur she said, 'I might have been more delighted if you had accomplished the task in good time.' Taking up a shawl to wrap around her shoulders, she said, 'Close the box and bring it.'

Abu's face fell slightly. 'You do not wish to hear how the Mighty Abu wrestled the demons of avarice, greed, and desire in the marketplace?'

7 do,' said Alethea.

'Later,' Cait said, moving to the door. 'I wish to secure the release of the captives before they close the palace gates.'

Motioning Otti to help him, the young Syrian took up the casket. 'I know,' he said, brightening once more, 'I will tell you on the way. It will pleasantly pass the time.'

'Excellent,' said Thea happily.

Cait turned and handed her the bag of coins. 'You are staying here.'

'Ohhh,' Thea whined in frustration. 'Cait, please, I want to go.'

'And keep the door closed until I get back.'

Thea frowned.

'I mean it, Thea. I will not have you wandering around outside alone.'

'Otti could come with me,' she suggested hopefully.

'I need Otti with me.'

At Caitriona's command, Abu hired a small carriage from among those waiting outside the inn. She and Haemur rode in the carriage guarding the box, while Otti and Abu walked alongside. Abu, eager to aggrandize himself in the eyes of his patroness, embellished his story shamelessly. However, the tale that emerged bore at least a passing resemblance to what had actually taken place.

As directed, the three men had taken the precious objects Cait had given them from among the items in her father's store, and they had gone to the marketplace, where, in the street of goldsmiths, they sought out the expert valuation of one of the more highly respected craftsmen there. The fellow had examined the items, expressed interest and, when he asked the reason for the sale, had been told the simple truth: to raise funds for the ransom of prisoners. 'Fifteen thousand,' offered the goldsmith, upon receiving this information. Abu duly pointed out that the objects were far more valuable than that, but the fellow refused to barter. The offer remained firm. 'The walls of Damascus would be easier to move than that pinchfist,' Abu declared.

Undeterred, they took their business to another goldsmith across the street, who welcomed them with small glasses of spiced wine, sat them down, and proceeded to spend a considerable time examining the items they had for sale. They were fine pieces, exceptional pieces, he told them. The finest materials and craftsmanship, beyond the shadow of a doubt. 'Why are you parting with them?' he asked, and was told, as before, that the money was needed to ransom captives of war. 'Fourteen thousand,' replied the gold dealer. 'Each?' asked Abu Sharma. 'For both,' sniffed the dealer. 'And I am doing you a favour at that.'

Nor would he improve the offer. 'A rock in the sea would have more compassion,' Haemur asserted with a sorry shake of his head.

The next goldsmith they visited offered a slightly improved sixteen thousand – but only when told they had already received an offer of fifteen from a nearby competitor. This is when Abu grew angry. They went out and walked along the street for a while to give Abu time to consider the situation. Haemur was all for going back and letting Cait decide what should be done, but the young Syrian had the bit between his teeth now, and he was determined not to be bested.

They walked to the end of the street, and then down another street, and yet another, coming to the less respectable dealers of gold, gems, and precious objects-places where formerly wealthy people often found buyers for treasures acquired in more prosperous times. Abu chose one of the most disreputable-looking of these, and told Otti to stand across the street and stare very hard at the shabby little shack and not to move. Next he instructed Haemur to accompany him, but to stand by the door and say nothing. It was agreed. Abu drew a deep breath and held it until Haemur feared he would burst, and then, gathering up the box, he darted across the street and into the dealer's dwelling.

'This fellow looks up to see Abu rushing in all red-faced and out of breath,' said the young Syrian, 'and it is "Allah help you, my friend, what has happened?"' So, Abu explained that he had something to sell, but was concerned that nothing should be known of his visit-not to anyone, not ever. The dealer said that he himself could not imagine any reason why anyone should learn of any transactions they might undertake. He took special pains to point out that his customers often required sympathy and understanding. Ask anyone, he said, they would tell you that Faraq Irbil is the soul of discretion and silent as the tomb.

Apparently satisfied, Abu opened the sack and agreed to allow the dealer to examine the goods-but first would he mind going to the door and looking outside, please? 'This he does,' said Abu, 'and as the fellow peers out he sees Otti standing across the street glaring at the door of his hovel. "Oh, no!" I cry. "We must vanish at once!" I close the sack and jump up to leave.

'The dealer is not content to allow his opportunity to disappear so abruptly. "Wait a moment," pleaded Faraq, "there is nothing to fear. Let me see what you have. Maybe I can help." "But no," I said, "It is too late! Too late! I am sorry. I had hoped to raise a little money, but now… Allah help us, it is too late! Forgive me for troubling you."'

Abu chuckled at his own shrewdness. 'I close up the sack and rush to the door. "Please do not leave," the dealer cries, clutching at my sleeve. He has glimpsed the golden bowl with the gem-edged rim, and is loath to let it vanish as quickly as it has appeared. "I can see you are troubled," Faraq says to me. "Perhaps events have overtaken you, eh? Yes, I thought so. But there is nothing to fear. You are safe here. Come, sit down. You say you wish to raise money. You have come to the right place. I am a dealer in fine gold, jewellery, and precious stones. Let me see what you have brought."

'"Very well," says Abu, "I may as well show you-but remember: no one must ever know I was here. A woman's honour is involved. She is a wealthy woman, you see? The fault is not hers. Forgive me, I wish I could say more." So, Abu brings out the sapphire-and-ruby rimmed bowl, and says, "It is worth sixty thousand. You know it. I know it. Alas, the time for bartering is past. I will take forty."

'"Forty!" Faraq pretends to be shocked. "If only that was possible. Alas, my purse is not so capacious as those in the upper street. I am a man of more slender means. Twenty is the best I can offer. You think it over while I go and see if that belligerent fellow is still waiting for you across the street. Oh, yes, he is still there. It seems you must choose between us now."

'But, Abu Sharma, slayer of demons, is not finished yet. He brings out the crystal dagger, withdraws it from its sheath of gilded leather, and lays the pearl-studded hilt beside the golden bowl. "I see that sacrifices must be made," says Abu. "But it is forty thousand I must have. So: twenty for the bowl, and twenty for the knife."

'The dealer's eyes grow round. This is a most auspicious day, he is thinking. "Truly, my friend, these are exquisite pieces. Therefore, against my better judgement, I will give you fifteen apiece. More I cannot do."

'"O, woe, woe! Doom and woe! Why did I ever stray from the paths of righteousness? Alas, I am undone! Cursed was the day of my birth. I must have been fathered by a scorpion!"

'Abu wails and moans, he throws himself about the room, tearing his hair and gnashing his teeth. He scoops up the precious objects and throws them into the bag once more and points accusingly at the silent Haemur. "You see? You see? You see how I am destroyed? Now we must make haste and flee the city! Our last hope must be in flight."

'The dealer, deeply impressed and alarmed by these words, puts up his hands and says, "Wait! Wait! I have a brother who might be willing to help us. From him I can get three thousand more. I will add that to the sum already offered, yes? Let us agree and put your troubles to flight, my friend."

'Under the gold dealer's ministrations, Abu allows himself to be calmed. Thirty-three thousand dirhams it is. The dealer goes out and returns but a few moments later with the gold and silver in a chest. Together he and Abu count out coins amounting to thirty-three thousand dirhams and, with much praising and blessing Haemur and Abu depart, carrying the chest between them.' The young Syrian smiled broadly. 'And the rest, sharifah, you have seen.'

'It is a remarkable tale, Abu,' Cait declared. 'If even half of it is true, you have earned your reward. I will pay you as soon as we have redeemed the captives and returned to the inn.'

At the palace, however, they found the courtyard deserted and the wazir's secretary less than pleased at having been kept waiting half the day to complete the arrangements he had begun for the release of the war captives. 'Thirty-five thousand dirhams,' he informed Cait when she and the others had been brought into the hall where Wazir Muqharik received his visitors.

'I beg your pardon, katib,' answered Cait, speaking through Abu, 'but twenty-five thousand was the amount we agreed upon.'

' That was before you kept the prince's chief official waiting,' he replied imperiously. 'Thirty-five thousand. Pay it, or go.'

Caitriona motioned for Otti and Abu to bring the chest forward and place it on the table. This they did, and Cait threw open the lid and upended the box, spilling the coins in a glimmering rush over the table. 'Twenty-five thousand,' Cait declared. 'That, along with my most sincere and profound apologies for the inconvenience you have suffered, should be more than sufficient. I pray you will accept both.'

Having made his point, the katib accepted the money and the apology. 'The captives have been washed, and clothed. They also have been waiting,' he said, speaking through Abu. 'If you would please proceed to the gate, they will be brought out to you.'

Cait thanked the katib and returned to the palace gate where, a few moments later, the five knights were escorted from the guardhouse by a company of spear-bearing Saracens led by the jailer. They were delivered without ceremony in simple Arabic garb of long, belted tunics and sandals-cast-off clothing and well worn, but clean. They were still unshaven, but they had been scrubbed to a glowing lustre, and had made a gallant, if only partially successful, attempt to comb the tangles from their long hair and beards. They hobbled from the courtyard and out through the palace gates without looking back.

Their long imprisonment made walking difficult-to a man they moved with an odd lolloping gait as if their legs were made of wood, ill-fashioned and poorly hinged. Their muscles were unequal to the exertion and after only a few hundred paces they had to rest to catch their breath. Cait sent Abu ahead to a nearby market square to hire two carriages; when he returned, the knights eagerly, if painfully, clambered aboard. When the carriages began to roll, leaving the palace walls behind, the former captives overcame their infirmities sufficiently to revel in their freedom by giving vent to enthusiastic whoops and battle cries. Their exuberance drew stares from the people in the streets, many of whom muttered imprecations against ill-mannered foreigners, and fools who could not hold their wine.

Blissfully ignorant of the disapproval swirling around them, the jubilant company drove like conquering heroes through a city they had never thought to see again.