every direction. A group of foes with torches was wandering in the underbrush; there was even a watch on the perimeters. There was no way to escape. David stood under a tree and started to wonder why his life had been spared. He wasn’t particularly concerned about it. He had tasted all the joys and sorrows of this world. If he had one desire, it was only to see how this war would end. Would his compatriots lose courage, or would they stand firm with undiminished bravery on the battlefield?

When most of the night had passed, and it seemed that his enemies’ deadly efforts were not diminishing at all, David spoke God’s name and emerged from the bushes, and on tiptoe, under the cover of the trees, avoiding being seen by the men, set off in one direction. He wanted to get out of the bushes and get to a settled area. Desolate areas make poor cover; a village populace provides its own camouflage.

For some distance no obstacle was encountered in David’s way. The trees sheltered him, but when he emerged from the uneven land into a more level area, he was sighted by an Arab. He raised the challenge. David ran. ‘The murderer is getting away!’ This cry echoed but once in the air and in a moment Arabs from all sides were again hot in pursuit. For a long distance ahead there was no trace of human habitation. Far off, a faint lamp was glimmering. Let me just reach it somehow, David thought. He was running towards the light with such speed it was as if as soon as he got to it he would have nothing to fear. Hope made him fly. The Arab mob was left behind; the light of the torches faded away. Only the starry heavens ran along with him. Finally he arrived before that hopeful lamp. There was a little thatched house. An old Arab was sitting on the ground, reading the Koran on a bookstand by the dim light of the lamp. David could go no further. His courage had failed him. He fell there, exhausted. The weariness of the journey becomes known only upon reaching the house.

The Arab got up and said, ‘Who are you?’

‘A poor Christian. I’m in trouble. If you give me shelter now, my life will be saved.’

‘God will help you. What trouble has befallen you?’

‘I’m afraid that if I tell you, you too will thirst for my blood.’

‘Now you have come under my protection; you shouldn’t have any doubts about me. We are Muslims: once we have taken someone into our protection, we keep him safe all his life.’

David said, ‘I have killed a Muslim youth.’

The elderly Arab’s face turned red with anger, and he said, ‘His name?’

‘His name was Jamal.’

The Arab clutched his head and sat down. His eyes became red, the sinews in his neck tightened; his face was flushed, his nostrils flared. It appeared as if a furious battle was raging in his mind and that he was suppressing his emotions with all his might. For several minutes he sat staring at the ground in this fraught condition. Finally, with his throat constricted, he said, ‘No, no, I will have to keep the vow of protection. Aah! What cruelty! Do you know who I am? I am the unfortunate father of that youth, whom you murdered today so mercilessly. Do you know what a terrible thing you have done to me? You’ve wiped out the last trace of my family! You’ve extinguished my lamp! Ah, Jamal was my only son. All my dreams were dependent on him. He was the light of my eyes, the guide in my blindness, the base of my life, the life of my feeble body. I’ve just come from laying him in the lap of the grave. Ah, my tiger, tonight you’re sleeping beneath the dust. There is not another youth among my people so brave, so devout, so handsome. Cruel man, you didn’t have even a little mercy when you raised your sword against him? Your stony heart didn’t have a trace of sympathy? Do you know how angry I am at you right now? My heart wants to grab your neck with both hands and squeeze it until your tongue protrudes from your mouth and your eyes pop out like cowrie shells. But no, you have taken my protection; duty binds my hands; because our Holy Prophet taught us not to raise our hand against someone who is under our protection. I don’t want to break the command of the Prophet and ruin my life in both this world and the next. You’ve destroyed my life here; shall I ruin my faith with my own hands? No. It is difficult to bear but I will bear it so that I don’t have to lower my eyes when I face my prophet. Come, come into the house. Your pursuers are running this way. If they see you then all my pleading won’t save your life. You know that Arabs never forgive a murder.’

The old Arab grabbed David’s hand and took him inside and hid him in a room. No sooner had he gone back out than a group of Arabs came up to the door.

One man asked, ‘Well, Shaikh Hasan, have you seen anyone come this way?’

‘Yes, I saw someone.’

‘Why didn’t you catch him? That was Jamal’s killer.’

‘I let him go despite knowing that.’

‘What? God save us! What have you done? When Jamal accosts us on Judgment Day, what answer will we give him?’

‘Say that his father has forgiven his killer.’

‘No Arab has ever forgiven a killer.’

‘That’s your responsibility. Why should I take it on my head?’

The Arabs didn’t argue long with Shaikh Hasan; they ran off in search of the murderer. Shaikh Hasan sat back down on his mat and resumed reading the Koran but he couldn’t concentrate. The custom of taking revenge from an enemy was foremost in the customs of the Arabs. Blood for blood.

Вы читаете The Complete Short Stories
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