No openers, said Cairo. Not this time. I have no intention of wasting time tonight trying to inch the stakes up. I'll start at the top and the two of you can play or not, as you choose. Now I think you'll both agree that through my various illicit enterprises, I control the Moslem Quarter in this city.
The mummy dust king is about to strike, muttered Joe.
Well do I or don't I?
You do. Agreed.
Correct. Now then, that's my bet. Control of the Moslem Quarter. I'm putting the Moslem Quarter on the table. If either of you wins, which you won't, it belongs to you. Joe whistled softly.
That's arrogance and then some. You mean the whole Moslem Quarter?
That's right. Down to the last sun-baked brick.
People? asked Munk, shaking himself out of his trance.
Down to the last unborn babe asleep in its mum's belly, not knowing what it's in for when it has to wake up.
Fair enough, said Munk, gesturing extravagantly. If that's the way it is I'm betting the Jewish Quarter.
Jaysus all right, shouted O'Sullivan Beare, all right I say. If that's what you're up to I'll put down the Christian Quarter. And it goes without saying the Armenian Quarter automatically goes to the reckless devil here who owns the best cards. In other words it's finally a case of winner take all in the eternal city, is that it? Jerusalem is on the table and one of us is going to pick it up in the next few minutes? Is that what we're doing?
Munk smiled, he nodded. Cairo nodded and frowned.
Well then it's time, said Joe. By God if the moment hasn't sneaked right up on us, just sneaked in out of the night when no one was looking on this last day of the year. Now I hate to disappoint you both but you shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have gone so far by half. Here. Just look at this lineup I'm holding.
Joe turned over his cards. Four jacks and a queen. He touched each one of them lightly with his forefinger.
Like it? Isn't that something? Heaven laboring once again for a beleaguered Irishman? Yes I do believe it, just look at that regal party. The crown prince has come to inherit the kingdom for sure and the queen is along to ease the transition, to let all of us know all affairs are ongoing and cordial in the royal palace now that the heir apparent is to receive the land and the jewels. Not bad I say, just as it should be, and I'm ready for the succession and the ascent. So Cairo lad, do I take you or no?
One at a time, Cairo slowly turned over his cards.
A king. A queen. A king and a king and a king.
He looked up and smiled at Joe, who sighed.
Well my God I do not take you, do not even begin to. It seems the crown prince can't succeed to the throne after all, because it's still occupied by the incumbent. Bloody outrage, that's what. Regicide would have been in order but it's too late for that now. And I've only myself to blame. I should have suspected just such a scheme on your part, considering how you've been hawking pharaohs for years by the pinch and the snort. Undone, as simple as that. The king keeps his kingdom and the crown prince will have to go begging for a realm. The king also keeps his queen and will allow no ascent on that score either. So then, Munk, it's to you now. Time. Reverse and relate.
Munk stared at the two of them for almost a minute. Finally he turned over his cards and spread them out on the table.
Joe whistled very softly.
Do you tell us that now. It seems, Cairo, there may be higher powers at work in Jerusalem. It seems our Munk has called on them to intervene and they've done just that. It seems even royalty is powerless in the presence of a higher cause such as Munk's. Four aces, would you believe it. Aces, some kind of unit above the human plane. Yet even so Munk puts a queen with them for reproductive purposes, so his aces can take the form of a swan or a bull or a zephyr or God knows what in the Eastern Mediterranean manner, and impregnate the queen with the heroes of future generations. It's just beyond our scope and ability, Cairo, and there we are with our legacies gone, our ambitions dashed, twelve years of honest labor and dishonest endeavor simply finished. It's back to the bazaars for us. Munk takes Jerusalem and we're forced by events to make our way elsewhere.
Cairo nodded pensively. Joe scratched his beard.
Hey Munk, he said, could you take out your special watch for a moment?
Why?
Oh you know, in case we have to find out in a hurry whether time is slow or fast or nonexistent tonight.
Nothing really, that's all.
Munk took out his watch.
Now then, said Joe, shouldn't we hear it officially from the top of the safe? The final judgment on this table where three men have striven mightily in their purposes? Hello up there, Haj Harun?
Yes?
Fate is upon us and must be spoken, and the best cause wins. That was the last hand the three of us will ever play. And so after twelve busy years, if you would, the ultimate pronouncement.
Haj Harun straightened his helmet.
From the top of the safe, he said, I see that the man holding the watch with three levels is the winner.
Just like that, murmured Cairo.
Game of chance, added Joe. Sometimes it comes and sometimes it goes and it seems it's come for our partner here, our own very own Munk. Seems he's just up and taken it all. Ah well, somebody has to win in the end. Isn't it so, Cairo?
Yes.
Munk pushed back his chair. He began walking around the room.
What's this about it being our last hand? The two of you aren't serious, are you?
By God we are, of course we are. Was anybody ever more serious than Cairo and me?
But what's going on? I don't think I see it.
What's to see? Game of chance and you won it.
That's right, Munk. That's all there is.
All the same, said Joe, it's frightening to drop over a million pounds like that. I'll never see that kind of money again but of course it all started with a fraud, fishes in the shape of what? Perfectly dreadful thing to be doing in the Holy City and I don't deny it. The baking priest went along with me out of the kindness of his heart, casting a blessing here and another there, saying there was no harm to it, but I wasn't really representing the early Christians.
Haj Harun stirred and looked down at Joe.
What's this? asked the old man. You're not doubting yourself, are you? Questioning what you've done here?
To be frank, I am.
But you've helped defend Jerusalem.
Joe moved uneasily in his chair.
Don't know that I have. Can't say I've done that particularly.
But it's true, I know you have. You've believed in the miracle of Jerusalem. You've had faith.
Well you're more forgiving than most. But listen, what would you say if I told you I were going on a trip.
And not coming back?
Yes.
The old man shook his head sadly on top of the safe, his spindly legs dangling. His helmet went awry and a shower of rust fell into his eyes. He began to weep quietly.
I'd miss you, Prester John. But I've always known you'd have to leave someday, to return to your lost kingdom in the east.
Ah yes, my lost kingdom, I almost forgot. But if I were to leave, and Cairo here too, wouldn't you still have someone to talk to?
Haj Harun looked down at Munk. He smiled.
Of course, there'd still be Bar Cocheba. He'd understand.
Yes, said Joe, I'm sure he would. So will you do that for us, Munk? Will you?
Munk, stopped circling the table. He stood still, gazing at the two men at the table.
So that's it, that's what you meant. You were serious, this was the last hand. You're both leaving Jerusalem?
Yes we're off, Cairo and me. I've been here long enough. After all I only came by accident because a freighter in Cork happened to be carrying some nuns to the Holy Land on a pilgrimage, and I just happened to be a nun at the time.