Syria, Somewhere near Damascus
One day, a little before noon, Asim and Ibad had reached the inn, about five leagues away from Jerusalem. They had stopped and stayed at this inn for a night on their way to Damascus a few weeks earlier. For his age, Asim was in that sweet spot - one of those healthy and strong lads who are mistaken for young adults when among children and for juvenile when amidst adults.
However, his handsome features seemed familiar with those storms that made a young man serious before his time. From his clothes, he seemed to be of noble Arab lineage, and his dark and bright eyes, reflected in addition to humor, pride and intelligence, the courage and self-confidence that comes after spending part of life on strange and dangerous roads. He was mounted on a beautiful Arab Kumeet[1] horse, equipped with a quiver and bow at his back and a sword strapped at his waist, in such a way that even if there were rows of armed enemies on his right and left, his self confidence would not have changed.
Or if he had been dressed as a Roman soldier instead of an Arab and behind were an army of horsemen instead of a slave, his bold gaze would have been considered a guarantee of victory for that army. However, if this young man had appeared on a sidewalk with a few carefree boys jumping and laughing, the onlookers would have preferred to see his smiles and hear his laughter rather than his soldierly demeanor.
Ibad, his tall and heavy-set slave, seemed to be ten or twelve years older than him. He was riding on a camel and on another camel, the saddle of which was tied to tail of Ibad's camel carried the goods.
The four walls of the inn looked like the walls of a fortress from the outside. Ibad and Asim disembarked in front of the gate and entered with their horses and camels. The two-story building of the inn was not very large, but the courtyard was very spacious. In front of the veranda, under a roof of palm trunks and leaves on wooden pillars, there were mats for ordinary travelers on one side and a few rotten tables and boards on the other. The rest of the courtyard was dotted with fig and olive groves.
Along the left-hand Wall, a long shed served as a stable, inside which a few horses and outside a few camels were tied, and nearby a few travelers were resting in the shade of the trees.
Four Jews were playing cards around a table. A little distance away, a strong stately Syrian, who looked like a Rais[2] of a tribe with his expensive robe and turban, was drinking wine, and an Abbysynian slave stood near him, bowing his head, respectfully. The Syrian was armed with a sword and dagger, and the harshness of his face was changing to animal ferocity under the influence of wine.
At the third table, two Christians from Cyprus, who had come to visit the monastery, were eating, and the innkeeper, a cheerful and gentle-natured Egyptian named Firmus, was talking to them. As Asim and Ibad were tying their horses and camels to trees, Firmus turned towards them and quickly stepped forward and said, "If you want to stay here, then instead of tying these camels here, let them roam outside. I can send a servant to protect them."
Asim replied, "No, they are loaded with goods and we will leave from here soon. We want to join a caravan of Arab traders. These people belong to the Ghatfan and Kalb tribes. For many waypoints, my route and theirs will be the same. They left four days before me. Perhaps you know something about them…"
Firmus replied, "They passed through here yesterday and will definitely stay in Jerusalem for a week or two."
Asim said, "No, they will not stay more than a day. The days of peace in Arabia are about to end, and like me, it is necessary for them to reach home without delay. I want to reach Jerusalem by this evening. You should arrange food for us. And if your servant who shoe'd my horse last time is free, then call him. I want to have new shoes put on and I cannot find such a craftsman anywhere else.
"This will be done soon. First, tell me how was your trip?".
Asim replied,"My horses were sold at a very good price in Damascus. But due to the war, the price of swords was also very high there. Therefore, I have only bought a few swords and have bought silk cloth with the rest of the capital. I hope that I will make a good profit from the cloth trade and then if more swords are needed, we will be able to order them from Mutah at a cheap price".
Firmus said seriously, "l pray that when you reach your homeland you will hear that the war is over and you do not need to buy any more swords."
Asim replied, "We are really tired of the war and most of the families of both tribes want peace. But my family is not one of them. There can be no greater news for me than that the war between Ous and Khazraj has ended forever and I cannot avenge the blood of my father and brothers.
My uncle sent me to buy swords only because the rich people of our tribe who have swords have turned their backs on the fight and the poor whose honor and pride is still alive —They cannot pay the exorbitant prices of the Jewish merchants for the swords. But I am certain that after getting these swords, when a few men come out to the field, no man of the tribe will be able to sit at home—"
"You have brought back your best horse," said Fermis, feeling the need to change the subject of conversation. "If you can still change your mind, I am ready to buy it."
Asim replied,"If I had intended to sell it, I would not have refused last time. Like you, many buyers in Damascus were ready to pay the asking price for it, but this is my best friend.
"Very well, if this horse is so dear to you, then I will not insist. Come, I will arrange for your food."
Asim walked with the furniture. But after walking a few steps, he turned and looked at his companion and said, "Let's go, Ibad!"
Ibad was very frank with his young master, but he did not like to overstep the bounds of a slave in the presence of others. He said, "No, sir, please send my food here."
Firmus asked, "Where did you get this slave?"
Asim replied, "When he was seven or eight years old, my father bought him from a Jewish merchant in Yemen, before I was even born."
Firmus ordered one of his servants to shoe the horse and another to bring food, and sat down with Asim under the shed.
Asim said, "Do you remember, I came here once before?"
"When.."
"About four years ago I stayed here with my father for three days, after which we went with a caravan to Damascus. After spending about six months there, we stayed here for a day on our way back. Firmus said, "I don't remember, but after hearing you speak in Syriac last time, I guessed that you had visited these areas before."
Asim said, "I am very quick in understanding foreign languages — so after spending six months in Damascus associating with some Romans, I had developed a good grasp of their language as well."
One of the Jews gambling at the other table stood up and approached Asim.
"You, young man, won't you try your luck with us?"
"No, I swore when I left home that I would not gamble or touch alcohol until I had fulfilled my promise".
"Then you can't be an Arab".
Asim said, "If you insist, I can prove that I am an Arab without playing a game with you." The Jew did not feel the need to interfere with Asim and walked towards his companions without saying anything.
Suddenly, the Syrian Rais, who had emptied his wine jug, got up from his seat, approached the Jews, and said, "I am willing to try my luck with you."
The Jews looked at the giant man in confusion and fear. Finally, one of them, somewhat daring, said, "No, sir! We poor Jews cannot dare to play with a respectable Syrian—"
The Syrian threw him off the chair by the scruff of his neck and said in a roaring voice, "If you are a Jew, how dare you sit next to us?"
The other Jew said, "Sir, this is an inn and you should not abuse us here."
"I will skin you alive", saying this, the Syrian slapped him on the face and he too fell off the chair like his companion. The other two ran and stood a few steps away and the drunkard started swearing obscenely in his drunken state.
"Who is this?" Asim asked Firmus in a low voice.
"He is a Rais of a Syrian tribe, it was my misfortune that I had him stay in my inn. He has emptied two jugs of wine since morning. And the travelers who are sitting far from the awning have heard his abuse many times. If he had not been from a bloodthirsty tribe nearby, these travelers would have torn him limb from limb. I have sent one of my men to Jerusalem. There is a Roman officer there who is my friend, if he sends a soldier, all his intoxication will go away in moments".
After giving the fallen Jew a few more kicks, the Syrian nobleman returned and picked up the empty jug, poured it into the cup, and then turned to Firmus, shouting, "What are you looking at? This jug is empty."
"Sir, you've drunk too much," said Firmus in a frightened voice.
The Syrian man roared, "What are you barking?"
"Sir... I have said that the alcohol has run out"
"You are lying. I want to search your inn and your house". The Syrian moved towards the veranda. Four of Firmus's servants ran to block his way, but he suddenly drew his sword and they stepped aside in dismay.
Firmus, acting with some courage, stepped forward and said, "Please, sir, you are abusing me too much. I will not let you in?"
Suddenly, the Syrian drew his sword and Firmus, in a state of panic, stepped back and fell against the pillar of the veranda. The Syrian, whose sword was on his chest, was laughing. Firmus's servants were screaming in helplessness. The Syrian and his Abyssinian slave— who had drawn his sword and reached out to help his master— were trying to intimidate them and keep them a few steps away.
"For God's sake, have mercy on me, I am a poor Egyptian," said Firmus. "I have not insulted you. I only wanted to say that it would not be right for you to travel while you are very drunk. But if you order, I am ready to serve you a full flagon of wine."
The Syrian placed the tip of his sword on his neck and said, "Disgraceful man, shut your mouth, or else..." Firmus fell silent, feeling the pressure of the Syrian's sword on his veins more than his words. Now the Syrian would sometimes withdraw his hand, and sometimes he would bring the tip of his sword closer to his stomach, chest, neck or face.
The spectators, who had previously thought that Firmus's last moment had come, were now feeling that this formidable man was only showing off his vigor. Suddenly, a young girl appeared from the veranda and, screaming, tried to reach out and grab the Syrian's hand, but the giant man shook his hand and she fell to the side.
"Antonia! Antonia! For God's sake, run away from here", Firmus cried out.
The girl tried to get up quickly, but the Syrian suddenly grabbed her hair with his left hand. A woman who seemed to be the girl's mother rushed forward and started calling for help from the people gathered around. The Syrian again placed his sword on Firmus's neck and shouted," If this woman does not shut her mouth, I will hack your neck off".
The woman fell silent. Suddenly, Asim, for whom this game had become unbearable, drew his sword and approached the Syrian, "I have never seen such a cowardly man."
The Syrian turned and looked at Asim and said, "If he were not a coward, I would have cut off his neck with the first blow."
Asim said, "He's not a coward, you are.."
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[1] Type of Arabian horse
Rais : Nobleman
Kos: Leagues
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Author's Note:
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