The air of the room was heavy with tension and anxiety. Zachary was frowning and thoughtful, while Uwais stroked his mustache, and Hassan seemed to be talking to himself. Sadeq’s eyes were locked on the face of his friend Qassem; Qamar sat alone in a corner of the reception room, praying God to guide them all to reason and righteousness. Two flies hovered around their empty coffee cups. Qamar called for Sakina to clear away the tray, and the slave came and took it, and reclosed the door behind her.
Uwais took a breath and said, “This secret is going to wreck our nerves!”
A dog yelped in the alley, as if he had been hit with a stone or a stick, a peddler’s voice rose, in a singsong pitch for dates, and an old woman cried miserably, “O Lord, enough of this life.”
Zachary turned to Uwais. “Uwais, you’re the biggest and most eminent of any of us—you tell us what you think!”
The man shifted his gaze between Zachary and Qassem. “The truth is that Qassem is a fine man, but his story has made me dizzy!”
“He is a truthful man,” said Sadeq, who had been eager to speak the whole time. “I challenge any person to think of one lie he has ever told. I believe him—I swear it to you on my mother’s grave!”
“Me too,” said Hassan enthusiastically. “He’ll always find me right beside him.”
For the first time, Qassem smiled gratefully, and looked at his cousin’s strong body admiringly, but Zachary gave his nephew a look of disapproval. “This is not a game. Think of our life and our safety.”
Uwais nodded vigorously to show his agreement. “That is the truth. No one has ever before heard what we’ve heard today.”
“Gabal and Rifaa heard things like this, and more!”
Uwais stared at him in surprised revulsion. “Do you think you’re like Gabal and Rifaa?”
Pained, Qassem lowered his eyes, and Qamar looked at him affectionately. “Uncle!” she said. “Who knows how these things happen?”
He resumed stroking his mustache, and Zachary spoke. “What good is there in thinking he’s like Gabal or Rifaa? Rifaa died a terrible death, and Gabal would have been killed if his people hadn’t joined forces with him. Who’s with you, Qassem? Have you forgotten that they call our neighborhood the Desert Rat territory? Or that most of the people are either beggars or other poor unfortunates?”
“Don’t forget that Gabalawi chose him above everyone else, even above the gangsters,” said Sadeq vigorously. “I don’t think he’ll abandon him if things get hard.”
“That’s what they said about Rifaa in his time, and he was murdered an arm’s length from Gabalawi’s house!” said Zachary hotly.
“Don’t raise your voice,” Qamar cautioned.
Uwais glanced furtively at Qassem, thinking, What strange things to have heard and said. This shepherd my niece has made into a gentleman! I believe he’s truthful and trustworthy, but is that enough to make him a Gabal or Rifaa? Do great men come this simple? What if these dreams come true?
“It looks like Qassem isn’t moved by our warnings. So what does the lad want? Is he troubled that our community should be the only one with no share in the estate? Qassem—do you want to be a gangster and overseer here?”
“That is not what I was told,” said Qassem, agitation rising in his face. “He said that all the people of the alley are his grandchildren, that the estate belongs to all on the basis of equality and that the gangsters are evil!”
Excitement flashed in Sadeq’s and Hassan’s eyes, and Uwais was shocked.
“Do you know what that means?” Zachary asked.
“Tell him!” said Uwais angrily.
“You are challenging the power of the overseer and the clubs of Lahita, Galta, Hagag and Sawaris!”
Qamar’s face turned pale, but Qassem said calmly, almost sadly, “That’s right.”
Uwais emitted a laugh which echoed in indignant looks from Qassem, Sadeq and Hassan, but Zachary paid no attention.
“We will all be destroyed. We’ll be crushed like ants. No one will believe you. They didn’t believe the ones that met Gabalawi, or heard his voice, or talked with him—how will they believe someone who was sent one of his servants?”
“Never mind those stories,” said Uwais in a new tone of voice. “No one saw the meeting between Gabalawi and Gabal, or Gabalawi and Rifaa—the stories are told that way, but no one saw them. Even so, it was good for the people. Gabal got its exalted status, and Rifaa too; our neighborhood deserves to be like them, doesn’t it? All of us come from the loins of that man hiding in his mansion. But we have to approach this very wisely and be careful. Qassem, remember your community—forget about ‘grandchildren’ and ‘equality’ and what’s good and what’s evil. It will be easy to get Sawaris to join us; he’s your relative, and we can work with him to get us a share of the estate revenues.”
Qassem glowered angrily. “Uwais, you want one thing and we want something else. I don’t want to haggle, or share in the revenues. I have firmly decided to do the will of our ancestor, as I was told.”
“God help us,” Zachary groaned.
Qassem’s scowl did not dissolve. He remembered his anxieties, his solitary times and his conversations with his teacher Yahya; how release had come to him from the hand of a servant he had never known before; how new adventures beckoned on the horizon; how Zachary thought only of safety, Uwais only of income; how life would be good only when they faced the adventure-crowded horizon.
“Uncle,” he said with a sigh, “I had to begin by asking your advice, but I won’t ask you for anything.”
“I’m with you,” said Sadeq, pressing his hand.
Hassan made a fist. “And I’m with you, with you through good and bad.”
“Don’t be misled by childish talk!” said Zachary irritably. “When the clubs are raised, people like all of you will be hiding. And who will you be risking death for? There are just animals and vermin in our alley. You have a guaranteed carefree, easy life. Come to your senses; enjoy your life.”
Qassem asked himself what this man was saying. It was as if he were listening to some of the voices within himself, which said, Your daughter—your wife—your house—yourself But you made the same choice as Gabal and Rifaa; let your answer be the same as theirs.
“I’ve thought about it a long time, uncle, and I’ve chosen my way,” he said.
Uwais smacked his hands together resignedly. “ ‘There is no power and no strength save in God!’ The strong will kill you and the weak will just jeer at you!”
Qamar looked helplessly back and forth between her uncle and her husband’s uncle, sorry for her husband’s disappointment and at the same time fearful of the consequences of his standing by his opinion.
“Uncle,” she said, “you are the leader of all the prominent people. You could help him through your influence.”
“What is it you want, Qamar?” Uwais asked disapprovingly. “You have money, a daughter and a husband. What does it matter to you whether the estate is divided among everyone or the gangsters take it? We regard as mad anyone who wants to be a gangster—what do you think of someone who wants to be overseer of the whole alley?”
Qassem sprang to his feet, deeply wounded. “I don’t want anything like that. I want the good things our ancestor wants for us.”
Uwais tried to conciliate him with a forced smile. “Where is our ancestor? Let him come out into the alley, even if his servants have to carry him on their shoulders. Let him execute the terms of his estate any way he wants. If he were to speak, do you think anyone in the alley, no matter how powerful he is, could lift a finger toward him, or even an eye?”
“And if the gangsters jump on us to murder us, would he make one move, or even care if we die?” Zachary concluded.
“I won’t ask anyone to believe me or help me,” said Qassem very despondently.
Zachary got up and went to him, putting his hand warmly on his shoulder. “Qassem, it was the evil eye. I know all about this kind of mischief. People have been talking so much about your intelligence and good fortune that the evil eye lit on you. Seek protection in God from the devil, and know that today you are one of the finest people in our community. You can, if you want, go into business with some of your wife’s money. Enjoy your wealth. Forget all of this in your head, and be happy with the good things God has given you.”
Qassem bowed his head sadly, then raised it to face his uncle and spoke with wondrous determination. “I won’t forget anything in my head, even if the whole estate were mine alone.”