Mika Waltari - The Wanderer

Once more he made a violent rush, the dust swirling about his feet. But the Negro handled him seemingly without effort, and at length grasping him by wrist and leg he began whirling him madly round and round. Then he let go, so that Andy thudded to the ground and rolled some distance in a cloud of dust. When I reached him I saw that his shoulders had been cut by the stones and that blood was pouring from his nose.

“Easy, Michael, easy,” he panted, with a face like thunder. “I tackled him carelessly, and he got the better of me by some trick.”

He would have charged in again, but the Italian renegade came soothingly toward him and said, “Let that be enough, now, and pray harbor no ill feelings. Mussuf has none. You needn’t be ashamed to acknowledge him the victor, for he’s a renowned guresh, or wrestler. He has thrown you three times running. Come, then, admit yourself fairly beaten. He owns that you’re the most powerful man he’s ever met.”

Andy was unappeased. His eyes were bloodshot as he thrust the renegade aside, and he was on the point of hurling himself yet again at the Negro when Captain Torgut appeared at the entrance to the palace and ordered us sharply to make an end of our sport. Andy was compelled to choke back his rage, wipe the blood from his face, and cover his flayed back, while the Negro threw out his chest like a fighting cock and strolled over to the group of renegades to receive their praise.

I was crestfallen on Andy’s account, and strove to comfort myself with the thought that the sea voyage had not suited him and that he had been weakened by poor food. But I had little time to brood over our disgrace, for Captain Torgut ordered us abruptly to enter the palace and present ourselves before his lord, Sinan the Jew. We were led through the building into an inner courtyard bounded on all sides by a cool colonnade and made beautiful by many varied fruit trees. Beneath a roof supported by pillars sat Sinan the Jew. He had one eye, a thin nose, and a sparse beard, and wore a plume in his turban. He was not long past middle age and his lean face was that of a warrior, though for the moment he was content to sit cross legged on a cushion.

He began by surveying the four poor seamen, but found little to interest him there, and he dismissed them with a disdainful jerk of his thumb. Then fixing his eye on Andy and me he said in Italian, “So you have taken the turban, in the name of Allah the Compassionate. You have well chosen, and if you prove diligent in the faith it will be accounted to you for merit and you will be admitted to Paradise with its rippling water brooks. But,” he went on with a malicious smile, “here on earth you are slaves, and don’t imagine that the Law of the

Prophet will ameliorate your lot in any way. If you try to escape, your bodies will be cut in pieces limb by limb and hung upon hooks on either side of the gate. Now tell me, you, what can you do, if anything, that would be of use to your owner?”

I answered quickly, “By your favor, Prince and Lord of Jerba, I am a physician. When I have learned Arabic and acquired knowledge of the remedies used in this country, I will gladly practice healing to the profit of my lord. And I may add without boasting that I’m familiar with many medicines and methods that will certainly be unknown here.”

At this Sinan the Jew stroked his beard, and his eye flashed as he asked, “Is it really true, then, that you won’t try to escape, but will submit yourself as a Moslem?”

I answered, “Try me, Prince. It is needless to threaten me with quartering, for having taken the turban I should suffer a still more hideous death at the hands of Christians. This is your best guarantee for my sincerity.”

He turned thoughtfully to Andy and ordered him to take off his cloak. At the sight of the fearful bruises that had begun to appear on Andy’s body he asked who had treated him so roughly. Andy answered, “No one has ill treated me, great lord. Mussuf and I had a little innocent sport together in the outer court. We matched our strength in a friendly bout of wrestling.”

“ Bismillah-irrahman-irrahim,” exclaimed Sinan piously. “An excellent idea. If he has a good instructor and is not too thick witted he can earn great sums for his master as a wrestler. Tell me, what is necessary to man?”

“Good and abundant food,” answered Andy readily. “May the gracious God send me a master who is liberal with that, and I will serve and obey him faithfully.”

Sinan the Jew sighed, scratched his head and said, “This man is certainly very simple. He doesn’t even know that prayer and profession of faith are the most important things. Tell me, what are seven and seven?”

“Twenty-five,” answered Andy, with a candid look.

Sinan the Jew tore his beard, called upon Allah, and demanded of Captain Torgut, “Are you making game of me, that you bring me such a fellow? He will eat his master out of house and home and bring disaster upon him through his stupidity. Best to trade him for

a bunch of onions, if anyone is fool enough to make so bad a bargain.”

Nevertheless he was amused, and asked Andy another question.

“How far is it from earth to heaven?”

Andy brightened, and said, “I thank you, sir, for contenting yourself with easier problems. It takes no longer to travel from earth to heaven than it takes a man to crook his finger.”

“Do you dare to trifle with me, miserable clod?”

Andy regarded him with docility, and said, “How could I dare to trifle with you, Lord and Prince? You have only to crook your finger and in a flash the head is off my shoulders. Therefore I say that it takes no longer to get to heaven than to crook one’s finger. But I was thinking of myself, not of you, for you have certainly farther to go to reach heaven. Aye, infinitely farther, one might say.”

His words brought a smile to Sinan’s lips. He ceased his attack.

“And the dog?”

When Rael felt Sinan’s gaze upon him, he wagged his tail and stood gaily on his hind legs, so that Sinan was astonished.

“To Allah be the praise! Take the dog to my harem. If my wives like it I will give it to them.”

But Rael growled and showed his teeth when a wizened little eunuch came forward to take him, and only at my order would the dog follow, lured by a juicy mutton bone. But he gave me a last reproachful glance, and I could not restrain my tears.

My distress dulled the agony of seeing Giulia led forward and bidden to remove her veil. Captain Torgut, alarmed, said hastily, “Why begin with her face? Keep the best till the last, and examine first her other charms. You will see that I spoke the truth about her. She is as fair as the moon, her breasts are roses, her belly a silver cushion, and her knees seem carved from ivory.”

To explain how it was I so well understood their conversation, I should mention that these African pirates were one in religion only, and came from every country, with every country’s speech upon their lips. Sinan was by birth a Jew from Smyrna, and Captain Torgut was the son of poor Turks in Anatolia, while their men were for the most part Italians, Sardinians, and men of Provence, Moorish fugitives from Spain, and renegades from Portugal. They conversed together in a queer jargon made up of every sort of language, and known as lingua franca. (They called Christians Franks.) I had learned to understand this mongrel tongue while aboard ship, and as I have always had great facility for languages it gave me no trouble.

Sinan the Jew looked suspiciously at Captain Torgut and said, “Why save her face to the last if she is truly as fair as the moon? I see by your look that there’s something fishy here, and I must get to the bottom of it.”

He stroked his beard with his slender fingers and ordered Giulia to undress. After modest hesitation she obeyed and uncovered all but her face. Sinan told her to turn, and surveyed her both from the front and from the back. At length he said reluctantly, “She’s too thin. She might set a boy on fire, but a mature man needs a broader, deeper cushion than does a youth whose limbs are still firm and wiry, and who can therefore be at ease even on a narrow plank.”