always the merchants had heavy purses tied at their belts, which the beggar attempted to lighten in two complementary ways. His roars and pleas and pitiful exhortations, together with the proud display of his withered stump, always awoke sufficient revulsion to earn some shekels from the crowd. Meanwhile his imp, loitering amongst the bystanders, picked as many pockets as it could. The sun was hot and the business good, and the beggar was just thinking of departing to the wine shop when he was approached by a thin man wearing a long pale robe. The newcomer scuffled to a halt, staring at his feet.
‘I’ve found a mark,’ he said.
The beggar scowled. ‘Toss a coin first, then tell. Got to keep up appearances, haven’t we?’ He waited till the newcomer obliged. ‘So, spit it out,’ he said. ‘What is he?’
‘Not a “he”; a “she”,’ replied the thin man sourly. ‘Girl came in from the south this morning. Travelling alone. Wants to go to Jerusalem. She’s off haggling with the camel traders now.’
‘Got much, you think?’ the beggar said, squinting up from the corner where he sat. He waved his stick angrily. ‘Move away from the sun, curse you! I’m lame, not blind.’
‘Not so lame either, from what I hear,’ the thin man said, stepping a few paces to the side. ‘Her clothes are nice enough, and she’s got a sack with her that warrants a look too. But she’d fetch a good price herself , if you get my meaning.’
‘And she’s on her own?’ The beggar stared off along the street; he scratched the stubble of his chin. ‘Well, the caravans don’t leave until tomorrow, that’s a given, so she’ll stay in town tonight whether she wants to or not. There’s no hurry, is there? Go and find Intef. If he’s drunk, knock some sense into him. I’ll go to the square, keep watch, see what’s going on.’ The beggar rocked back and forwards twice and, by leaning on his stick, stood up with sudden swift agility. ‘Well, get off,’ he said savagely. ‘You’ll find me in the square. Or, if she moves, wherever you hear my call.’
He swung his stick and, with a series of limping jerks, set off along the road. Long after he was out of sight, his cries for alms could still be heard.
‘I could sell you a camel, girl,’ the merchant said, ‘but it would be unusual practice. Send your father or your brother; I will drink tea with them and chew khat and make such arrangements as are meant to be made between men. And I will berate them politely for allowing you out alone. The streets here are not kind to girls, as they ought to know.’
It was late afternoon, and the peach-and-orange light refracting through the fabric of the tent struck lazily upon the carpet and the cushions, and upon the merchant who sat amongst them. A pile of clay tablets, some old and hard, others still soft and only partially covered by the merchant’s marks, rested at his side. Laid out carefully in front of him was a stylus, a tablet, a cup and a jug of wine. A dangling djinn-guard hung from the roof above his head, twirling gently to the movements of the air.
Asmira looked back at the closed flap of the tent. Business in the square was ebbing. One or two shadows moved swiftly past. None of them was familiar to her: none dawdled, head down, staring at its feet … Still, evening was coming; it would not do to be out alone much longer. Far off she heard a beggar’s whining call.
She said: ‘You will make the arrangements with me.’
The merchant’s broad face did not alter. He looked down at his tablet, and his hand strayed to the stylus. ‘I’m busy, girl. Send your father.’
Asmira gathered herself, forced her fury down. This was the third such meeting she had had that afternoon and the shadows were growing long. She had twelve days before the attack on Marib, and the camel ride to Jerusalem would take ten. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I have ample payment. You need only speak your price.’
The merchant compressed
‘I’ve found a mark,’ he said.
The beggar scowled. ‘Toss a coin first, then tell. Got to keep up appearances, haven’t we?’ He waited till the newcomer obliged. ‘So, spit it out,’ he said. ‘What is he?’
‘Not a “he”; a “she”,’ replied the thin man sourly. ‘Girl came in from the south this morning. Travelling alone. Wants to go to Jerusalem. She’s off haggling with the camel traders now.’
‘Got much, you think?’ the beggar said, squinting up from the corner where he sat. He waved his stick angrily. ‘Move away from the sun, curse you! I’m lame, not blind.’
‘Not so lame either, from what I hear,’ the thin man said, stepping a few paces to the side. ‘Her clothes are nice enough, and she’s got a sack with her that warrants a look too. But she’d fetch a good price herself , if you get my meaning.’
‘And she’s on her own?’ The beggar stared off along the street; he scratched the stubble of his chin. ‘Well, the caravans don’t leave until tomorrow, that’s a given, so she’ll stay in town tonight whether she wants to or not. There’s no hurry, is there? Go and find Intef. If he’s drunk, knock some sense into him. I’ll go to the square, keep watch, see what’s going on.’ The beggar rocked back and forwards twice and, by leaning on his stick, stood up with sudden swift agility. ‘Well, get off,’ he said savagely. ‘You’ll find me in the square. Or, if she moves, wherever you hear my call.’
He swung his stick and, with a series of limping jerks, set off along the road. Long after he was out of sight, his cries for alms could still be heard.
‘I could sell you a camel, girl,’ the merchant said, ‘but it would be unusual practice. Send your father or your brother; I will drink tea with them and chew khat and make such arrangements as are meant to be made between men. And I will berate them politely for allowing you out alone. The streets here are not kind to girls, as they ought to know.’
It was late afternoon, and the peach-and-orange light refracting through the fabric of the tent struck lazily upon the carpet and the cushions, and upon the merchant who sat amongst them. A pile of clay tablets, some old and hard, others still soft and only partially covered by the merchant’s marks, rested at his side. Laid out carefully in front of him was a stylus, a tablet, a cup and a jug of wine. A dangling djinn-guard hung from the roof above his head, twirling gently to the movements of the air.
Asmira looked back at the closed flap of the tent. Business in the square was ebbing. One or two shadows moved swiftly past. None of them was familiar to her: none dawdled, head down, staring at its feet … Still, evening was coming; it would not do to be out alone much longer. Far off she heard a beggar’s whining call.
She said: ‘You will make the arrangements with me.’
The merchant’s broad face did not alter. He looked down at his tablet, and his hand strayed to the stylus. ‘I’m busy, girl. Send your father.’
Asmira gathered herself, forced her fury down. This was the third such meeting she had had that afternoon and the shadows were growing long. She had twelve days before the attack on Marib, and the camel ride to Jerusalem would take ten. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I have ample payment. You need only speak your price.’
The merchant compressed
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