Hamdan’s people expected imminent catastrophe. Only Tamar Henna marred the unanimity, saying that because Gabal was leading the Al Hamdan this time, the lady would not allow them to be exterminated. But Gabal himself did not share Tamar Henna’s view; he said that if the estate were threatened by any newcomer, neither he nor any other person, not even those closest to Effendi, could do anything. Gabal reminded them that it was their ancestor’s will that they be strong and endure their misfortunes bravely. Daabis said that Gabal had enjoyed privilege and that he had spurned it of his own choice out of respect for them, so it was not right for any of them to abandon him; resorting to force might fail, but it could not make their lives any worse than they were now. The truth is that the Al Hamdan were fearful and their nerves were tense, but they found in despair a certain strength and resolve, and repeated the saying “We may win, and cannot lose.” Only Ridwan the poet kept sighing, “If the lord of the estate wished, he could establish justice, acquit us honestly and save us from certain disaster.” Gabal got angry when he heard this. He went to see him, impassioned and glowering, shook him by the shoulders until Ridwan nearly fell off of his chair. “Is this what poets have come to, Ridwan?” he shouted. “You tell tales of heroes and sing to the rebec, but when things turn serious you slither back into your holes and spread indecision and defeat. God’s curse on cowards!” He turned to the others. “Gabalawi has honored no other people of this alley as he has honored you. If he did not consider you his own family, he would not have sought me out and talked to me, but he has lit our path and promised his support. By God, I am going to fight them, even if I am alone.” But he did not look alone. Every man supported him, and every woman, and they all awaited the ordeal as if unmindful of the consequences. Gabal took over the leadership position in the neighborhood spontaneously, as events dictated, without any design or planning on his part, nor with any opposition from Hamdan, who was happy to abandon a position that would become the target of hostility for an unknowable period. Gabal did not confine himself to the house: he went out—against Hamdan’s advice—to go for his accustomed walks. He expected trouble at every step, but no gangster showed him the slightest trace of it, much to his great surprise. The only explanation he could think of was that Effendi must have kept the news of their meeting a secret in the hope that Gabal too would keep quiet about his demands, so that the matter would end as if it had never been. He saw in this policy the lady’s sorrowful face and her faithful motherhood. He was afraid that her love would be harder on him than her husband’s rudeness, and he thought for a long time over what he must do to shake the ashes from the coals.
Strange things came to pass in the alley. One day a woman’s screams for help were heard from a basement; it seemed that a snake had glided between her feet and slithered out into the street. Men volunteered to search out the snake, and went into her house with their sticks. They searched for the snake until they found it, and pounded it until it was dead, then threw it out into the dirt of the street, where boys seized it and played with it excitedly. There would have been nothing strange about this incident in the alley, but barely had an hour passed before another scream was heard from a house at the head of the alley, near Gamaliya. And before night fell there was an outcry in Hamdan’s neighborhood: some people had seen a snake which had vanished before anyone could chase it, and all their efforts to find it were in vain. At this point Gabal himself volunteered to find it, using the craft he had gained from Balqiti. The people of Hamdan talk of how Gabal stood naked in the courtyard, and of the secret language he used to address the snake until it came out to him willingly. These events might have been forgotten by the following morning had they not happened all over again in the homes of prominent people. It was reported, and believed, that a snake had bitten Hammouda the gangster as he was crossing the hallway of his house, and the man screamed in spite of himself until his friends heard him and came to the rescue; and then the gossip started. People would talk about the snakes, and then talk about them again; in the meantime, the snakes’ strange activity continued. Some of the customers in Barakat’s hashish den saw a snake among the ceiling posts; it emerged for about half a minute and then disappeared, and they jumped up, terrified, and ran away. News of the snakes drowned out the poets’ tales in the coffeehouses, and it seemed that their activity went beyond all decent bounds when a huge snake appeared in his excellency the overseer’s house. Although the house’s many servants dispersed into every corner to search out the hiding snake, they found no trace of it. The overseer and the lady were so obsessed with fear that they gave serious thought to leaving the house until they could be assured it was free of snakes. While that house was turned upside down, screams and commotion were heard from the house of Zaqlut, protector of the alley. The gatekeeper went to see what was happening, and came back to inform his master that a snake had bitten one of Zaqlut’s sons, then vanished. Everyone was frantic with fear. Cries of help from people seeing snakes were heard from every house, and the lady decided to leave the alley. Old Hassanain, the gatekeeper, said that Gabal was a snake charmer, and that snake charmers knew how to hunt down snakes; he swore that he had drawn a snake out of one of the Al Hamdan people’s houses. The color drained from Effendi’s face and he said nothing, but the lady ordered the gatekeeper to summon Gabal. The gatekeeper looked at his master, waiting for permission to go, and Effendi mumbled a few exasperated, indistinct words. The lady asked him whether it was better to send for Gabal or to abandon their house, and then he gave the old man permission to go, trembling with bitterness and rage. Crowds of people gathered between the overseer’s house and Zaqlut’s, as prominent people had been deputized to go to the overseer, led by gangsters: Zaqlut, Hammouda, Barakat, al-Laithy and Abu Sari. All the people talked of nothing but the snakes.
“Something has happened on the mountain to drive the snakes down here into our houses,” said Abu Sari.
“All our life the mountain has been our neighbor and nothing has ever happened,” shouted Zaqlut, who seemed to be fighting with himself, since he could find no one else to fight.
Zaqlut was agitated over what had happened to his son, and Hammouda was still limping from the wound on his leg; fear had seized all of them. They said that their houses were no longer safe to live in, and that all the people had come out into the alley.
Gabal came with his bag and greeted them all, then stood politely and confidently before the overseer and the lady.
The overseer was unable to look at him, but the lady spoke to him. “We have been told, Gabal, that you can get the snakes out of our homes.”
“I have learned that among other things, ma’am,” said Gabal evenly.
“I have summoned you to cleanse our house of snakes.”
“Does his excellency the overseer give me leave?” asked Gabal, looking at Effendi.
Hiding his rage and misery, the overseer muttered, “Yes.”
Here al-Laithy stepped up at the secret suggestion of Zaqlut and asked, “And our houses, and everyone’s house?”
“My craft is at the command of all,” said Gabal.
There was a chorus of thanks, and Gabal’s large eyes scanned their faces for several moments before he spoke. “Perhaps there is no need for me to tell you that everything has its price—this is the way it goes in our alley.”
The gangsters looked at him in surprise.
“Why are you shocked?” he asked. “You protect these neighborhoods and are paid collection money, and his excellency the overseer runs the estate in exchange for having the revenues at his disposal!”
It was clear that the difficulty of the situation did not permit their eyes to express what was in their hearts. Zaqlut spoke up again. “What do you want in return for your work?”
“I will not ask for money,” said Gabal calmly. “But I am asking for your word of honor that you will respect the Al Hamdan’s honor and their rights to the estate.”
Silence fell, and the air seethed with repressed hatred. The lady’s unease mounted and the overseer stared at the ground.
“Don’t think that I’m threatening you with what truth and justice require you to do for your oppressed brothers. The fear that has driven you out of your houses is only a brief taste of what your brothers swallow every day of their miserable lives.”
Their eyes shone with rage, as fleetingly as lightning flashes in a cloud, and was smothered instantly.
“I can bring you a Rifai Sufi to charm out the snakes,” shouted Abu Sari, “if we can stay out of our houses for two or three days until he comes from his village.”
“How can everyone in the alley stay out of their homes for two or three days?” asked the lady.
Effendi was thinking with all his strength and trying to control the feelings of rage and resentment that blazed in his heart. He finally addressed Gabal. “I give you the promise you ask. Begin your work.”
The gangsters looked startled, and while circumstances did not permit them to say what they were thinking, their hearts were seized with murderous purpose. Gabal ordered everyone to move back to the end of the garden, leaving the open space and house to him. He took off his clothes, now as naked as the day the lady rescued him from the ditch filled with rainwater. He moved from place to place, from room to room, at times whistling softly or murmuring indistinctly.
Zaqlut came near the overseer and spoke to him. “He’s the one who sent the snakes to our houses.”
The overseer motioned him to be quiet and muttered, “Let him get rid of his snakes.’
A snake that had been hiding in the light shaft now obeyed Gabal, and he drew another out of the room used for estate business. He draped the snakes around his arms and he appeared with them in the hall, then put them in his bag. He put on his clothes and stood waiting until all the people came forward.
“Let’s go to your houses and cleanse them,” he said to them. He turned to the lady and said gently, “If it weren’t for my people’s misery, I would never have laid down a single condition to help you.”
He went to the overseer and saluted him. “A free man’s promise must be kept,” he said boldly, and then walked out; and all the people followed him in silence.