Summer was now reaching its zenith. The days were long, dusty and hot. It was in the afternoon when I was at the front desk with Hussen, going over the accounts. His pencil scratched busily on the paper as I read out the pitiful amounts. The recent visit of the sub-Vizier has enriched my pockets, but other than that, business had been poor. The hotel was currently unoccupied and would probably stay that way for the next few weeks. At this rate, I would have to close up in only a few months. There just wasn't enough business to keep me solvent. The price of food was now higher than ever since everything but livestock was dependent on trade. Only a handful of caravans had made it through, leaving the city practically starving. No one knew what happened to the missing wagons, making it all more mysterious.
These dire thoughts were cut short by the opening of the front door. In walked a swarthy man dressed in a dusty tunic, grimy pants, and black leather boots that had seen better days. The travel-worn turban wrapped around his head was partially undone, the loose cloth knotted across his face to protect against the ever-present dust and scorching sun.. The gray eyes stared keenly at me.
“You have a room available?” he asked with a quiet, dignified voice.
“I think I might just be able to fit you in,” I lied with the manners of a practiced hotelkeeper. I would have been happier if he could rent out an entire floor.
Hussen was staring dumbly at the stranger. I'm normally not a cruel man, but Hussen's attitude had a way of bringing out the worst in me. The fool finally moved when I kicked him squarely in the rear.
“Get the guest’s bags!” I shouted at him.
Hussen scuttled outside, giving me a malignant glare as he left.
The visitor just smiled at this scene of modern employee management. He said calmly, “I would like a room with northern exposure and one that lies on the ground floor. Do you have such a room available?”
“Yes, that can be arranged. A wise choice, if I do say so myself. That side of the hotel is much cooler this time of year. Now if you would please, could you sign the register?”
He studied the register book for a moment before untying the cloth over his face, exposing a short-cropped beard and narrow cheeks. “I would prefer not to sign. Is it really necessary?”
I looked at the guest closer, wondering why he balked at signing. Perhaps he did not have enough money to stay here. “It is the law,” I replied firmly, hoping to scare away any potential dodging of payment.
He smiled, the fine lines around his mouth growing in prominence. “Let’s just say that I have a private disposition. I would be willing to pay to keep my privacy.”
I shook my head. “It’s the law – everyone must sign the ledger or else I would be fined.”
Reaching into his tunic, the guest reluctantly retrieved a leather purse. He opened it, pulling out a stack of gold dinars which he placed on the desk. “That will be more than enough to pay for your silence,” he said. “But do not abuse my trust.”
In these lean times, no man could refuse the sight of gold. Nodding, I grabbed the stack of coins and pulled them towards me. At that moment, Hussen returned with two leather cases hanging from his arms. His eyes followed the money as it disappeared into my pocket. He then looked suspiciously back and forth between the stranger and me.
“Take our guest to room twelve,” I commanded.
“Yes, sir.” Hussen replied sourly. He then shuffled off with our new guest in tow.
I called after the stranger, “Sir, dinner is served promptly at six o’clock. Tonight it will be chicken and rice. If you do not come, then you will be left to your own devices.”
My mysterious guest did not respond, but instead disappeared down the hall. I was left wondering why he was trying to remain concealed. It would have been easy enough to write a false name since I wouldn’t have bothered to examine his traveling papers. Anyways, the local Sharif never came around to check my register. It was a mystery, but not one that I was going to concern myself with. I really had no reason to pry in this man’s affairs.
But I suddenly remembered the words of the sub-Vizier. He would have been most interested to hear of a man trying to travel the roads without leaving a trace behind. But how could I contact Rasid? Did he expect me to go through the Sharif? He gave me no instructions for such a situation. He merely asked for the rumors and stories that passed my way, not to point out potential troublemakers to the police. That thought salved my conscience somewhat. There was probably nothing to report here since some traders liked to remain anonymous in fear of being robbed.
I pushed those thoughts aside and returned to my book-keeping. I was happy for the small stack of gold I had just received since it would allow me to stay open for a little longer than planned. Perhaps, once the heat reduced in the autumn, more travelers would take to the roads. It was a faint hope, but it was the only one I had. It was too bad that there wasn’t anyone left in Ewark who could afford to buy my business. I really did not want to travel to the cooler north and leave everything behind since this was the only home I had ever known.
Later in the day, after I had finished my other chores, I was in the kitchen, helping my maid Molli prepare dinner. I could see that the rice was bubbling nicely on the stove and from the oven came the delicious smell of chicken. I stole a glance at Molli, who was looking as lovely as ever.
She has been with my family for almost twenty years now, having started with us at the age of nine. That made her only a little older than me. She still retained much of her beauty, but the ever-present sun had turned her once-fair skin nut brown. When I was a younger man, I had fallen under her spell. Back then, she taught me much about the mysteries of woman, but our love was not meant to be. After a brief blaze of lust, we had drifted apart, falling into an amiable friendship. Even though she had been courted by several prominent men of the town, she loyally stayed with the hotel. It was her home now.
She caught me looking at her. With a faint, knowing smile that just showed the edges of her white teeth, she returned her attention to stirring the rice.
I asked with a slight trace of embarrassment, “Molli, have you seen our only guest?”
“No, I haven’t. When I brought him a basin of water, he told me through the door to leave it outside.”
“Well, he had better come down for dinner. I’m not going to send you up there just because he can’t be on time.”
She nodded absentmindedly and returned to her cooking duties. From the pump inside the kitchen, I filled a pitcher of water. I brought it outside to the dining room. It was an area near the lobby with five circular tables – just enough room to feed all of my customers if I was completely booked up. Salii, the town storyteller, was there at the cold fireplace, hoping to make a few shekels telling tales to travelers. His wizened face looked disappointed by the small audience. The only guest was already sitting at one of the tables, his chair leaning against the back of the wall. He was watching me with guarded eyes. I brought the water over to his table and poured it into his waiting glass.
“Good evening, landlord,” he said politely. “I would expect more customers to be here for dinner.”
“Business hasn’t been very good. I hope your room is satisfactory," I said as I put the pitcher down on the table.
“It will do. Now will you have a seat? There are a few words of a private nature that I wish to have with you.”
I complied, even though I did not know why he would want to speak with me.
After I had seated myself, he poured me a glass of while talking in a most amiable fashion. He said in a low voice so we would not be overheard by Salii. “I’ve been told that you are a man who can be trusted. How would you like to make some more money?”
I bowed my head in recognition. “I don’t know who you talked to, but as long as it is not illegal, I would gladly endeavor to help you. But I do not know what you would possibly want from a simple hotel owner like myself.”
r /> He laughed. “And I see that you are also a man of high morals. I’ve already paid for your silence concerning my stay here. For a few more dinars, would you be willing to look the other way when I leave the premises tonight?”
I hesitated before answering. “I’m not normally in the habit of keeping track of my guest’s whereabouts. It’s of no concern of mine where you go or what you do. I merely provide a roof over your head and a place to eat.”
“That is very broad-minded of you, but I’m more concerned about the Mujadeen. If they should come and ask questions about me, I would prefer that you do not mention that I left your hotel in the middle of the night.” He saw my look of disbelief and quickly added, “I can assure you that I am really doing nothing illegal. I’m not going to rob or kill anyone.”
I blinked a few times as I digested this information. “I’m not sure if I can agree to that,” I finally said. “I don’t know who you are or why you are here. I do not want to put my life or my business at risk for just a few coins.”
My words were interrupted by opening of the kitchen door. It was Molli. She was carrying a tray loaded with food. She promptly put the chicken and rice before us, shooting me an inquisitive glance. I nodded politely at her and waited until she had returned to the kitchen.
Before I could continue, my guest said, “You can call me Tai. I’m a friend of Kalam.”
I looked at him suspiciously, wondering how this stranger could know Kalam. I said, “You do? Then you must have tried his wine before.”
He shook his head. “Wine? Don’t play me the fool. Kalam only makes beer unless he has changed his ways after all these years.”
I sighed in relief. “Well, you are correct. I’m sorry. Tai, any friend of Kalam is a friend of mine. Tell me, how do you know him?”
“He has been a friend of mine for a very long time,” he replied evasively. "Granted, it has been a long time since I've seen him, but I always make a point to visit him when I stop here in Ewark."
I shrugged my shoulders. “If he is a friend of yours, then you can count on my silence. I give you my word.”
He politely bowed his head. “Now let’s waste no more breath on mere words. We have this good supper before us. Let’s eat.”
As we supped, Salam began to tell the story – one that I was quite familiar with since I had heard it countless times. Of course everyone had since it was part of our history, the sort of tale passed from father to son and mother to daughter.
With his loud and commanding voice, Salii said, “Countless years ago, back before the oldest grandfather was even a child, there was an age where mankind lived in sin. The people of the Earth were creatures beholden to outlandish fashions, strange addictions, and a life without the guidance of Mohammed and Allah. It was because of these immoralities that the Great War came. This was the war that ravaged the globe, destroying life and cleansing the land with flame and famine. In the battle soldiers fought, cities were burned, green pastures turned to desert, and the people of many lands were hunted and destroyed.”
Even though he was playing to just myself and Tai, Salii stood up, his ancient frame wavering. He raised his hands, his voice rising in volume. “From the ashes rose the Mujadeen, who were free of sin. With their might and with their sword, they took what was left. The Mujadeen turned chaos into order and reshaped the world into a better place. We are blessed that they threw out the sinners, and made a place that is safe, free of our worst natures. We are now under the guidance of the one and only god.”
Chapter 4