Naguib Mahfouz - Palace Walk

She performed her prayers and then went back to the window, driven by her curiosity. She peered out. Rays from the rising sun were beginning to adorn the gown of night. The light of morning was streaming off the peaks of the minarets and the domes. She was able to see the road much more clearly. Her eyes examined the shapes that had alarmed her when it was dark. She could see what they really were. A moan of terror escaped her, and she stepped back to rush to Fahmy’s room. She woke him without any hesitation.

The young man shuddered and sat up in bed. He asked in alarm, "What’s wrong, Mother?"

Trying to catch her breath, she replied, "The English are filling the street below our house".

The young man jumped out of bed to run to the window. Looking down, he saw a small encampment on Palace Walk under the cistern building at a vantage point for the streets that branched off there. It consisted of a number of tents, three trucks, and several groups of soldiers. Adjacent to the tents, rifles had been stacked up in groups of four. In each bunch the muzzles leaned in against each other and the butts were separated, forming a pyramid. The sentries stood like statues in front of the tents. The other soldiers were scattered about, speaking to each other in a foreign language and laughing. The young man looked toward al-Nahhasin and saw a second encampment at the intersection of al-Nahhasin with the Goldsmiths Bazaar. There was a third encampment in the other direction at the corner of Palace Walk and al-Khurunfush.

His first impulse was to think that these soldiers had come to arrest him, but he soon decided that was silly. He attributed the idea to his rude awakening, from which he had not quite recovered, and to his sense of being followed that had not left him since the revolution had broken out. Then the truth gradually became clear to him. The district that had frustrated the occupying forces with its continual demonstrations had been occupied by troops. He went on looking through the blind, examining the soldiers, tents, and wagons while his heart pounded with terror, sorrow, and anger. When he turned away from the window he was pale and muttered to his mother, "It’s the English, just as you said. They've come to intimidate people and to stop the demonstrations at their source".

He began to pace the room back and forth, while he commented to himself resentfully, "Incredible… preposterous".

Then he heard his mother say, "I'll wake your father to tell him about it". The woman made that statement as though it were the only alternative left. She implied that al-Sayyid Ahmad, who solved all the problems of her life, was equally capable of finding a solution for this one and of guiding them to safety.

Her son told her sadly, "Leave him alone until he wakes up at the normal time".

Terrified, the woman asked, "What are we going to do, son, with them stationed outside the entrance of our house?"

Fahmy shook his head anxiously and repeated her question: "What are we going to do?" Then in a more confident tone he continued: "There’s no reason to be afraid. They're only trying to frighten the demonstrators".

Swallowing because her mouth felt dry, she remarked, "I'm afraid they'll attack peaceful citizens in their homes".

He thought for a little while about what she had said. Then he murmured, "Of course not… If their goal had been to attack the houses, they wouldn't have waited there quietly this long". He was not totally sure about his statement but thought it was the best thing to say.

His mother came back with yet another question: "How long will they stay here with us?"

He replied with a blank stare, "Who knows?… They've pitched tents, so they're not leaving soon".

He noticed that she was addressing questions to him as though he were a military commander. He looked at her affectionately and did not let her see the ironic smile that had formed on his pale lips. He thought for a moment about teasing her, but the situation was distressing enough to deter him. He became serious once more. Similarly, when Yasin recounted one of their father’s exploits to him, the very nature of the anecdote would make him want to laugh, but the anxiety that afflicted him whenever he learned something about the hidden side of his father’s character would restrain him.

They heard footsteps hurrying toward them. Then Yasin, followed immediately by Zaynab, stormed into the room. His eyes looked swollen and his hair was disheveled. He shouted, "Have you seen the English?"

Zaynab cried out, "I'm the one who heard them. So I looked out the window and saw them. Then I woke up Mr. Yasin".

Yasin continued: "I knocked on Father’s door until he woke up, so I could tell him. When he saw them himself he ordered that no one should leave the house and that the bolt on the door should not be opened. But what are they doing?… What can we do?… Isn't there a government in this country to protect us?"

Fahmy told him, "I don't think they'll interfere with anyone except the demonstrators".

"But how long are we going to remain captives in our houses?… These houses are full of women and children. How can they set up encampments here?"

Fahmy muttered uneasily, "Nothing’s happening to us that isn't happening to everyone else. Let’s be patient and wait".

Zaynab protested nervously, "All we hear or see anymore is something frightening or sad. God damn the bastards".

At that point, Kamal opened his eyes. He looked with astonishment at all the people unexpectedly assembled in his room. He sat up in bed and looked inquisitively at his mother, who went to him and patted his large head with her cold hand. Then in a whisper she recited the opening prayer of the Qur'an, while her thoughts wandered off.

The boy asked, "Why are you all here?"

His mother wanted to break the news to him in the nicest way, and so she said gently, "You won't be going to school today".

He asked with delight, "Because of the demonstrations?"

Fahmy replied a bit sharply, "The English are blocking the road".

Kamal felt he had discovered the secret that had brought them all together. He looked at their faces with dismay. Then he ran to the window and looked for a long time through the blind. When he returned, he remarked uneasily, "The rifles are in groups of four". He looked at Fahmy as though pleading for help. He stammered fearfully, "Will they kill us?"

"They won't kill anyone. They've come to pursue the demonstrators".

There was a short period of silence. Then the boy commented, as though to himself, "What handsome faces they have!"

Fahmy asked him sarcastically, "Do you really like their looks?"

Kamal replied innocently, "A lot. I imagined they'd look like devils".

Fahmy said bitterly, "Who knows?… perhaps if you saw some devils you'd think they were handsome".

The bolt on the door was not pulled back that day. None of the windows overlooking the street was opened, not even to freshen the air or let in sunlight. For the first time ever, al-Sayyid Ahmad conducted a conversation at the breakfast table. He said, in a voice that implied he knew what he was talking about, that the English were going to take strong measures to stop the demonstrations and that it was for this reason they had occupied the areas where most of the demonstrations had taken place. He said he had decided they would stay home all day until matters became clearer.

Al-Sayyid Ahmad was able to speak with confidence and preserve his customary awesome appearance. Thus he prevented anyone from discerning the anxiety that had afflicted him since he had hopped out of bed in response to Yasin’s knocks.

It was also the first time that Fahmy had dared question one of his father’s ideas. He remarked politely, "But, Father, the school may think I'm one of the strikers if I stay home".