Arafa left the overseer’s house at dawn. He had drugged himself into a magical world of cloudy sights and sounds, and his feet could hardly carry him. He moved toward his house in the sleeping alley that gleamed with moonlight. Halfway between the overseer’s house and his own—in front of the mansion gate—a human figure appeared. He did not know where it had come from.
“Good morning, Arafa, sir!” it said in a near-whisper.
He was surprised by fear, perhaps triggered by the surprise, but his two bodyguards jumped on the figure and subdued it. He looked at it closely, and his unbelieving eyes told him that it was the figure of a black woman dressed in black from her neck to her feet. He ordered the servants to let her go, and they did.
“What is it, my lady?”
“I want to talk to you alone,” she said in a voice that confirmed that she was black.
“Why?”
“A sad woman wants to tell you her troubles.”
“God comfort you,” he muttered irritably. This was said to beggars instead of giving them money. He was about to go.
“By your ancestor’s dear life,” she implored touchingly. “Please.”
He stared at her angrily, but could not take his eyes from her. He wondered where and when he had seen that face before. Then his heart pounded so hard that it knocked the drunkenness out of his head. This was the face he had seen at the threshold of Gabalawi’s room when he was hiding behind the chair on that doomed night! This was Gabalawi’s servant, who shared his room! He was overcome with fear. His joints weakened as he stared at her in terror.
“Shall we chase her away?” one of his servants asked.
“Go to the gate of the house and wait there,” he told them.
He waited until they had left, and they had the space in front of the mansion to themselves. He looked at her thin black face, high, narrow forehead and pointed chin, and the wrinkles that crowded her mouth and forehead. He said, to reassure himself, that she had not seen him that night, but where had she been since Gabalawi’s death, and why was she here?
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I have no complaint,” she said calmly. “But I wanted to tell you everything, to keep a promise.”
“A promise?”
She moved her head close to his. “I was Gabalawi’s servant. He died in my arms!”
“You!”
“Yes, me. Believe me.”
He needed no proof. “How did our ancestor die?” he asked uneasily.
“He was terribly shaken after the discovery of a servant’s corpse, and all of a sudden he died. I hurried to him to support his back. It was trembling! That giant, whom the desert itself obeyed!”
Arafa’s sigh was so hot that it disturbed the night’s silence, and he bowed his head sadly, as if to hide it from the moonlight.
The woman resumed her story. “I came to you to carry out his will.”
He lifted his head to her, shaking. “What is it? Tell me.”
Her voice was as calm as the moonlight. “He told me, before he passed away, ‘Go to Arafa the magician, and tell him for me that his ancestor died pleased with him.’ ”
Arafa jumped as if he had been stung. “You liar! What are you trying to do?”
“What is wrong?”
“Tell me what kind of a game you’re playing.”
“Only what I said. God is my witness.”
“What do you know about the killer?” he asked her suspiciously.
“I don’t know anything, sir,” she said innocently. “Since my master passed away, I’ve been bedridden. When I got better, the first thing I did was go to you.”
“What did he tell you?”
“ ‘Go to Arafa the magician, and tell him for me that his ancestor died pleased with him.’ ”
“Liar!” said Arafa menacingly. “You think you’re pretty smart. You know that I—” He changed his tone of voice. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I asked for you as soon as I came, and they told me that you were at the overseer’s, so I waited.”
“They didn’t tell you that I killed Gabalawi?”
“No one killed Gabalawi!” She was very alarmed. “No one would have been able to kill him!”
“Whoever killed his servant killed him.”
“That’s a lie! The man died in my arms!” she shouted angrily.
Arafa wanted to cry, but could not produce one tear. He looked sideways at the woman.
“I will leave you, sir,” she said simply.
“Do you swear you were telling the truth?” he asked her in a very hoarse and gruff voice, as if it were his tortured conscience speaking.
“I swear by the Lord, who is my witness,” she said clearly.
She left as the hues of dawn were dyeing the horizon. He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared. In his bedroom, he fell in a faint. He came to a few minutes later, feeling exhausted to death, and fell asleep. His sleep lasted only two hours before he was awakened by inner anguish. He called Hanash, and the man came to him. He told him the woman’s story.
Hanash stared at him in confusion, and laughed when the story was over. “What were you smoking last night?”
“I did not imagine what I saw last night. It was real, I’m sure of that.”
“Sleep,” said Hanash earnestly. “You need a good deep sleep.”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course not. And if you sleep like I’m telling you to, and wake up later, you won’t believe it either.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
Hanash laughed. “I was at the window as you left the overseer’s house. I saw you coming through the alley toward your house. You stood for a little while in front of the mansion, then kept going, with your servants behind you!”
Arafa jumped to his feet. “Get the servants!” he said triumphantly.
“No,” said Hanash, cautioning him with a finger. “They’ll only wonder about your sanity.”
“I’ll ask them to say what they saw, in front of you.”
“The servants respect us little enough as it is. Don’t throw that away.”
A mad gleam came into Arafa’s eye, and he spoke stuporously. “I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine it! Gabalawi died pleased with me.”
“Maybe,” said Hanash sympathetically. “But don’t call any of the servants.”
“If there’s going to be trouble, it will land on you first.”
“God forbid,” said Hanash gently. “Let’s let the woman speak for herself. Where did she go?”
Arafa frowned, trying to remember, then said worriedly, “I forgot to ask her where she lives.”
“If what you saw was real, why did you let her go?”
“It was real!” Arafa insisted. “I’m not crazy. Gabalawi died pleased with me.”
“Don’t get excited,” said Hanash patiently. “You need to rest.”
He came close to him, ruffled his hair and gently pushed him toward the bed, staying there until he lay down. Arafa closed his eyes wearily, and fell into a deep sleep.