That night the uneasiness spread to Shafi’i’s house. Although Abda heard the story composedly and knew only that Rifaa heard his ancestor’s voice speaking to him and that after that he had decided to visit the poor to cleanse them of demons, she was racked with unease and kept dwelling on the consequences. Rifaa was outside. At the farthest end of the alley—far from the Al Gabal neighborhood—there was a wedding loud with the sounds of drums, pipes and women’s joyful trilling. Wanting to face the truth, the woman said sadly, “Rifaa does not lie.”
“But he might have been deceived by delusions,” said Shafi’i. “It could happen to any of us.”
“What do you see in what he heard?”
“How should I know!”
“There’s nothing impossible about it—after all, our ancestor is alive.”
“We’re finished if the word gets around.”
“Let’s keep it a secret,” she said hopefully, “and thank God that it’s people rather than the estate that concern him. As long as he doesn’t harm anyone no one will harm him.”
“How many people in our alley are harmed and they hurt no one!” said Shafi’i tonelessly.
The wedding melodies were drowned out by a clamor that broke out in the passageway. They looked down from the window and saw crowds of men in the passage, and by the light of a lantern one man held they made out the faces of Higazi, Burhoum, Farhat, Hanura and others, and all of them were talking or shouting, and their voices intermingled as the noise level rose. Then a voice bellowed, “The honor of the Al Gabal is at stake! We will allow no one to stain it.”
“Our son’s secret is discovered!” Abda whispered tremulously into her husband’s ear.
Shafi’i drew back from the window and moaned, “My instincts have never been wrong.” He walked out of the house unmindful of danger, and his wife followed right behind him. He cut through the throng, calling out, “Rifaa! Where are you, Rifaa?” The man did not see his son in the space lit by the lantern, nor did he hear his voice, but Higazi came up to him and spoke loudly, to be heard above the din. “Is your son lost again?”
“Come listen to what’s going on—how evil people are playing with the Al Gabal again!” shouted Farhat.
“Say ‘There is no god but God,’ ” cried Abda anguishedly. “Be tolerant!”
There was a crescendo of angry voices, some of them shouting, “This woman is crazy!” Others yelled, “She doesn’t know the meaning of honor!”
Terror gripped Shafi’i’s heart. “Where is the boy?” he implored Higazi.
Higazi struggled through the crowd to the gate and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Rifaa! Come here, boy, and talk to Shafi’i.”
Now Shafi’i was confused. He had been under the impression that his son was being held in the corner of the passage, but here was Rifaa, appearing in the beam of light. His father grabbed his arm and pulled him back to where Abda stood. In no time a lamp appeared, in Shaldum’s hand, as Shaldum came in with Khunfis behind him—Khunfis, whose face was contracted in a scowl of hostility. Everyone looked at the gangster. Silence fell.
“What do you want?” asked Khunfis in a voice brimming with rage.
“Yasmina has disgraced us!”
“Let a witness speak!” said Khunfis.
A donkey cart driver names Zaituna stepped forward until he stood opposite Khunfis. “A little while ago, I saw her coming out of the back door of Bayoumi’s house,” he said. “I followed her here and asked her what she had been doing in the gangster’s house. I saw that she was drunk—the smell of liquor on her breath filled the passageway. She broke loose from me and locked the door after her. Now, ask yourselves what a drunken woman was doing in a gangster’s house.”
Shafi’i and Abda’s nerves relaxed, and Khunfis’ tensed; this man knew that his prestige was faced with a severe test. If he failed to punish Yasmina he would lose his standing with the Al Gabal, and if he let these angry people attack her, he would be forced into a confrontation with Bayoumi, the protector of the whole alley. What could he do? The men of Al Gabal were streaming from their houses and crowding into the courtyard and the alley in front of the House of Triumph, making Khunfis’ position even more difficult.
“Kick her out of Al Gabal!” angry voices shouted.
“She should be lashed before we kick her out!”
“Kill her!”
There was a shriek from Yasmina, who was secretly listening in the darkness beyond her window. All eyes turned on Khunfis, as Rifaa was heard to ask his father, “Wouldn’t it be more fitting for them to vent their rage on Bayoumi, who violated her?”
This infuriated most of them, including Zaituna, who answered him. “She’s the one who went to his house!”
“If you don’t have any sense of honor, then just shut up,” someone else shouted.
His father rebuked him with a glare, but Rifaa persisted. “Bayoumi didn’t do anything the rest of you don’t do.”
“She is from the Al Gabal,” screamed Zaituna frenziedly at him. “She is not for others!”
“This boy is stupid and has no sense of honor.”
Shafi’i poked Rifaa to silence him.
“Let’s hear Khunfis!” shouted Burhoum.
The fury in Khunfis’ heart boiled up and nearly choked him. Yasmina was screaming for help. Anger was spreading, and dark, invasive stares were fixed on the girl’s house. Yasmina screamed until Rifaa’s heart broke and he could not stand it anymore. He broke away from his father’s arm and made his way to Yasmina’s house. “Mercy!” he cried urgently. “Have mercy on her weakness and fright!”
“You weakling! You woman!” shouted Zaituna.
Shafi’i too shouted to him passionately, but Rifaa ignored him to answer Zaituna. “God forgive you!” He turned to the throng. “Do whatever you want to me, but have mercy on her! Don’t her cries for help hurt your hearts?”
“Don’t pay any attention to this clown!” Zaituna turned to Khunfis. “We want to hear from you, sir.”
“Do you want me to marry her?” asked Rifaa.
The shouts of rage were interrupted by hoots of mockery.
“All we care about is that she gets her punishment,” said Zaituna.
“I will take care of her punishment,” said Rifaa desperately.
“We’ll all take care of it.”
Khunfis saw deliverance from his predicament in Rifaa’s suggestion. While he was not convinced by it in his heart, it was the best chance he had. He scowled fiercely to hide his weakness. “The boy has bound himself to marry her, in front of us all. He has his wish.”
Zaituna’s eyes rolled, blinding him with rage. “This cowardice destroys our honor!”
Suddenly Khunfis’ fist smashed his nose, and Zaituna fell back, wailing as the blood spouted from his nostrils. Everyone saw that Khunfis would protect his weak position by terrorizing anyone who stood against him. His eyes moved among the faces whose fear was plain in the lantern light. There was no sign of sympathy for the man whose nose had been shattered; Farhat even scolded him, saying, “Your problem is that you talk too much.” Burhoum told Khunfis, “Without you we would never have found a solution!” Hanura told him, “Your anger saved us, sir.” They began to disperse, leaving only Khunfis, Shaldum, Shafi’i, Abda and Rifaa. Shafi’i went over to Khunfis to greet him, and put out his hand, but the other, overcome with rage, struck it away with the back of his hand and Shafi’i stepped back, gasping. His son and wife hurried to his side as Khunfis left the passage, cursing the men and women, the Al Gabal and Gabal himself Shafi’i soaked his hand in warm water, and Abda massaged it.
“You see? Zakia must have been turning her husband against us!”
“The coward forgot that our idiot son saved him from Bayoumi’s club,” lamented Shafi’i.