915 A.H.
21 April 1509 — 9 April 1510
Fatima bore me a daughter in the last days of the summer; I called her Sarwat, Fortune, for that year saw the beginning of my prosperity. If the latter was short-lived, I could not complain, as it was taken away from me just as it had been given to me, by the sovereign will of the Most High; my only contributions were my ignorance, my arrogance and my passion for adventure.
Before committing myself to a career in business I paid a visit to Master Thomasso de Marino, the old Genoese whom I had got to know on the way to Timbuktu, and who, of all the foreign merchants living in Fez, was the most respected for his wisdom and straightforwardness. I wanted to ask his advice, and perhaps work with him for a while, or go with him on some journey. Although bedridden, he received me with great friendliness, recalling with me the memory of my uncle as well as more agreeable recollections of our caravan.
The reason for my visit sunk him into deep thought. His eyes seemed to be sizing me up, moving from my green felt hat to my carefully trimmed beard, and then to my embroidered jacket, with its wide and imposing sleeves; his white eyebrows seemed like scales, weighing for and against. Then, after having apparently put aside his hesitations, he made me an unexpected offer:
‘Heaven has sent you to me, my noble friend, because I have just received from Italy and Spain two large orders for black burnouses, one of a thousand items and the other of eight hundred, for delivery at the beginning of autumn. As you know, the most appreciated burnouses in Europe come from Tafza, where I would go to look for them myself if I were in better health.’
He explained the transaction to me: I would receive two thousand dinars, one thousand eight hundred to buy the stock, at one dinar per burnous at the wholesale price, the remainder for my expenses and my trouble. If I managed to get a better price from the suppliers, my share would be greater; if I had to buy more dearly, I would be obliged to pay out of my own pocket.
Without really knowing whether I had made a good bargain or a bad one, I accepted eagerly. He gave me the money in gold pieces, lent me a horse, two servants and nine mules for the journey and counselled speediness and prudence.
In order not to leave with the pack animals empty, I had collected all the money that I could lay my hands on, my own savings, those of my mother, and a part of Khali’s bequest to Fatima, which amounted to a total of four hundred dinars. With this I bought four hundred of the most ordinary sabres, of exactly the same sort as the Fassis were wont to sell to the inhabitants of Tafza. However, when I proudly told my father of my bulky acquisition on my return from the suq, he almost tore his robes from consternation and despair:
‘You will need at least a year to get rid of so many sabres in a little town! And when people know that you are in a hurry to return, they will buy them off you at the lowest possible price.’
His words made sense, but it was too late to withdraw, since I had gone round all the artisans to collect my consignment together, which I had paid for in cash in full. I had to resign myself to coming back the loser from my first business journey, telling myself that no one could learn a profession without bruising either his hands or his purse.
The evening of my departure my mother, panic-stricken, came to tell me the rumours she had heard in the hammam. Serious incidents were taking place at Tafza; there was talk of an expedition led by the army of Fez to re-establish order there. But instead of discouraging me, her words kindled my curiosity, so much so that I left the next day before sunrise, without even having tried to find out about it. Ten days later I arrived at my destination without incident, only to find the place seething with unrest.
I had not yet entered the town gate when the people congregated around me, some shouting at me aggressively, others questioning me insistently. I tried to keep calm; no, I had not seen the troops from Fez coming in this direction; yes, I had heard rumours, but I had not paid any attention to them. While I was vainly endeavouring to force my way through the crowd, a tall man appeared, dressed like a prince. The crowd parted in silence to let him through. He greeted me with an elegant movement of his head and introduced himself as the elected chief of the town. He explained to me that Tafza had existed hitherto as a republic, governed by a council of notables, not under the protection of any sultan, nor any nomadic tribe, paying neither taxes nor ransoms, maintaining its prosperity by the sale of woollen burnouses, which were valued the world over. But ever since a bloody conflict had broken out between two rival clans, a succession of deadly fights and gang battles had taken place, to such an extent that in order to stop the slaughter the council had decided to ban the members of the clan which had started the fighting from the town. In order to take vengeance, those who had been expelled appealed to the sovereign of Fez, promising that they would hand over the town to him. Hence the townspeople feared an imminent attack. I thanked this man for his explanation, stated my name and the reason for my visit, repeated to him the little that I had already heard about the incidents of Tafza, adding that I did not intend to linger there, only long enough to sell my sabres, purchase my burnouses and go back again.
The notable asked me to forgive his countrymen’s apprehension and ordered the crowd to let me through, explaining in Berber that I was neither a spy nor a messenger from Fez, but a simple Andalusian merchant working on behalf of the Genoese. I was then able to enter the city and make for the hostelry. However, before I could get there, I saw two richly dressed men in my way, talking loudly to each other while watching me closely. When I drew level with them, they were both talking at once; each begged me to do them the honour of staying in his house, promising also to take charge of my servants and my animals. As I did not wish to offend either of them, I refused both invitations, thanking them for their hospitality, and went to the hostelry, which was fairly uncomfortable in comparison with those of Fez, but I did not complain, since I had known no other roof than the starry vault for several nights.
I had barely settled in when the biggest fortunes in the town began to parade through my room. A rich businessman suggested I should barter my four hundred sabres for eight hundred burnouses. I was going to accept, when another merchant bounced up to my ear and quietly suggested a thousand. Having no experience, it took me some time to understand the reason for all this concern: at the approach of the hostile army the inhabitants thought only of getting rid of all their stock, to protect it from the pillage which would certainly follow the capture of the town. In addition, the arms which I was carrying could not have arrived at a more opportune moment, since the whole population was preparing to face the attackers. So I could dictate my own conditions; in exchange for my sabres I therefore required one thousand eight hundred burnouses, not one less; after some discussion, one of the merchants, a Jew, eventually accepted. So, the very day of my arrival I already had all the stock requested by Master de Marino in my possession without having spent any of the money which he had entrusted to me.
Having no more to sell, I made ready to leave the next day. But, like a lover in the middle of the night, fortune had made up her mind not to let go of me. Once more the great merchants of Tafza came to seek me out, some suggesting indigo or musk, others slaves, leather or cordovan, everything sold at a tenth of its proper price. I had to find forty mules to carry everything. The figures skipped about in my head; from my very first deal I was rich.
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