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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Upon arriving at the inn, Cait discovered that the rooms she had bespoken for her enlarged retinue were now occupied by the merchants who had arrived earlier in the day. The innkeeper was vaguely apologetic, but unwilling to turn his guests out; moreover, the special meal Cait had arranged was now being prepared for the merchants. 'I begged to be excused, but they insisted,' he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of abject helplessness. 'They paid in gold dinars. What could I do?'
'I suppose honouring your promise to me never occurred to you?' enquired Cait tartly.
'Exalted lady, you must try to be reasonable,' protested the innkeeper in his rough, marketplace Latin. 'These are very important men from the East. It is said that one is the supplier of pepper and saffron to the Sultan of Rhum, and the others are the owners of caravans that carry silk and spices from Kush to Samarkand. They are celebrating a royal commission to provide the court at Baghdad with damasc cloth and cinnamon.'
'Spare me your mealy mouthed excuses,' snapped Cait. 'These merchants who cannot be denied-where are they?'
'Cait, no,' murmured Alethea; she had been watching for her sister's return and hurried out to meet the knights, who, having eased themselves from the carriages, stood gazing at the evening sky with the transparent delight of children.
'The merchants, my lady? But -' He looked to Alethea for help.
'Cait, please…' Thea tugged anxiously on her sleeve.
Ignoring her sister, Cait demanded, 'Where are they?'
'Why, they are resting in the inner court. But -' began the innkeeper.
'As it is our meal they propose to eat, they will not mind if we share the celebration.' Turning to Abu, Cait
