Frightening, I say. Perversity itself and just crying out for reform at the top.
Cairo smiled. Munk laughed. As they slouched in their chairs, too weary to rouse themselves to leave, an eerie baying sound, soft and distant, suddenly swelled and filled the room.
What was that? asked Munk.
Of course it was the wind outside, said Joe quickly, sitting up and whistling. Hear it? Just the wind outside but with the twists and turns of the alleys throwing it off-center.
It didn't seem to come from outside, said Munk. I swear it sounded as if it were in here.
From the corner, added Cairo.
Yes I thought so too, said Munk. The corner where the safe is.
The safe? asked Cairo.
I swear it.
Inside the safe, Munk?
It sounded that way to me.
Here here, said Joe. I do believe we're all so exhausted we're hearing noises in our heads. Next thing that giant stone scarab is going to start talking to us from the other corner. Could it be so? Let's tip an ear in that direction.
Joe cupped his hand over his mouth and a rasping voice rose from the corner where the huge squat scarab watched them with a sly smile carved on its face.
Ah ha, doomed mortals. Did you really believe you could learn the scarab's secret? Never, I say.
It's locked here in my black heart for all time, still as stone in the smiling scarab of eternity.
The voice trailed off in cackling laughter. Munk and Cairo groaned. Joe nodded thoughtfully.
Well what do you make of that? Quite plainly we're all in need of some rest after a long thing night at the gaming table. Now I was the one who kept you here so it's only right I do the cleaning up while you both go home to the comfy rest you're deserving. No that's fine, no objections, I know my duty when I see it.
Here we go, my Munk. Give us a hand there, Cairo lad. My God but the two of you are dreadfully heavy when not in motion.
Joe got them both to their feet and pushed them out into the alley. He stood there smiling and waving as they walked away, but the moment they turned the corner he slipped back inside and closed the door.
He dropped into a chair and put his feet up on the table, muttering to himself.
By Christ, that was too close by far. Another minute and the great skin would have surfaced and we'd have been for it, the secret of the caverns done and finished and no return.
He sat up. The handle on the tall antique Turkish safe was turning. Hinges creaked. The door opened and Haj Harun stepped out into the room carrying a pile of neatly folded laundry, his ram's horn under his arm.
Oh hello, Prester John. I thought you'd be home in bed by now.
Thought so too but I got carried away last night, divinely intervening with a merciful hand and so forth.
Is something the matter? You look upset.
Just with meself I am. We nearly had a disaster here.
What happened?
There were early morning rumors that the Crusaders were coming back.
What? Again? And we're just sitting here? Quick, we must sound the alarm and go to our posts.
Hold on there, it was a rumor merely and it turned out not to be so. Isn't that lovely?
Haj Harun sighed and his helmet went awry, releasing a shower of rust into his eyes.
It certainly is. What a relief.
Precisely my feelings.
Well tell me about it
About what?
The rumor.
Oh yes. Well it seems the sightings were real enough. The Crusaders had set out all right, over their heads in clanking armor and monstrous horses and lumbering siege machines, swords banging and clubs swinging and studded maces and heavy lances all clanging together, the full regalia it was.
Tears had come to Haj Harun's eyes.
Please, he whispered. I know what they look like.
Hey I'm sorry, of course you do. Well what happened was that these noble Christian knights got as far as Constantinople and decided to take a break there and maybe give that good Christian city a good Christian sack, and the sack turned out to be so much fun and the killing and burning so satisfactory, dividing all that Christian loot so enjoyable, such a good game all around up there, that they just called it a day and never left to push on down to Jerusalem.
That was the Fourth Crusade, said Haj Harun, wiping the tears out of his eyes, smiling now and fully recovered.
Exactly. It was.
And the Fifth through the Ninth Crusades will amount to very little.
I'm glad to hear that. It means you and I will have some time to ease up around here and get some rest.
Well I see you're carrying your reliable ram's horn. Some blast that was, the number you gave us a few minutes back.
I was at the end of the tunnel approaching the ladder.
I see. Were you just treating yourself to a toot or was there deadly intent behind the signal?
I thought I saw someone lurking behind a rock.
Ah.
But it was only my imagination.
Only that, you say?
Yes, it was a shadow cast by my torch.
They do that, I know it. And how was it down there? Anything special to report?
No. I was just doing my laundry down on the Persian level.
Why that era precisely?
Their mountain water is very fresh and sparkling.
I see.
And then I was waiting for it to dry. I like to hang my laundry out overnight.
Do you now. And why might that be?
It gets much whiter.
So it does. But why?
The moon.
Of course, I forgot.
Laundry gets much whiter in moonlight, you see.
I do now although I didn't before. Fresh facts have a way of just popping up.
Look here, Prester John. Have you ever seen dishcloths as white as these?
Surely never. Remarkably white they are.
Thank you. Would you like to go for a walk?
Fine, very fine. I do sense the need for fresh air, to clear the mind after a smoky night at the table. A walk, yes, that's the job wanted.
They locked the ram's horn in the safe and left, Haj Harun taking his dishcloths with him and proudly holding them up to show to the people they passed on the street.
That's it, thought Joe, the evidence is continuing to mount in the cause of lunacy. Just no holding it back as time goes on and comes around. Striking, it is. Impressive, it is. More so every day I live.
— 7-
Haj Harun
It wasn't my physical condition that caused me trouble during the Persian occupation. It was the fact that as a result of those sexual experiences, I was incoherent for the next hundred years.
Haj Harun and O'Sullivan Beare were strolling through the Moslem Quarter in a generally easterly direction.
Just ahead, said Haj Harun, is a famous Crusader church. Do you know it?
St Ann's, you mean. I do.
And have you visited the grotto?
Birthplace of the mother of our Blessed Virgin. I have.
Haj Harun nodded pensively.
Then perhaps you can tell me why so many important events in the Gospels took place in grottoes. Why was that so? Why did everything happen in caves? Was it more comforting?
Caves, muttered Joe. It started out as an underground religion, like most I suppose. But listen, why is it you talk so little when Cairo and Munk are around? Don't you like them?
Oh yes I do, said Haj Harun shyly. In fact I like them very much. They're kind and gentle and I admire their determination. They're good men.