Chapter XLII
It took a long time to tell Guy all my adventures, for Trudy kept interrupting to ask me questions or to exclaim over the things that I had seen or done. I felt increasingly embarrassed by this for it is not proper for a woman to speak so openly to a man who is not of her family, yet on these occasions Sid Guy would look at his daughter with an amused smile on his lips. Truly these Franks are beyond understanding.
Guy was disappointed that the men from Wadi Musa were not with me, but when I told him that they would surely come within one week he was content and dismissed me with honour. Hilmi, Babrak and Hamed were waiting for me in our room with Charles also and we five talked until it was time to eat. After the meal we lingered in the refectory and told of our adventures and listened to those of Philippe and the others. We had so much to say that we even kept on talking after the lamps went out and so were late to waken in the morning and had to hurry our prayers, which is never a good thing.
"Hurry, hurry," Hilmi exhorted us as we made ready for breakfast and then to me he explained, "While you have been away enjoying yourself in Arabia, es-Sid has bought twenty donkeys which he hires out to pilgrims, so now instead of being guards for the caravan, we are mere donkey drivers."
"It's not as bad as that," Hamed laughed, seeing the dismay on my face. "There are boys to drive the donkeys, but nonetheless it is our responsibility to see that they care for the animals before we set off and after we return - no saddle sores, proper food and water, and so on."
As soon as we were ready we trooped off to the refectory and while we were eating Fatima, es-Sitt's slavegirl, came and touched me on the arm.
"Es-Sitt Trudy wishes to speak to you when you have finished eating," she told me.
I made haste to finish my meal and follow her. The others, even the Franks, seemed to find this amusing, though I could not imagine why. Up in es-Sid's chamber Guy and his daughter were waiting for me. Guy himself greeted me.
"Did you sleep well, Fuad?" he asked.
"Al-hamdu-lillah," I bowed.
"Al-hamdu-lillah," Guy returned. "My daughter desires to take you to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre . . ."
"Long ago, when you were talking to Brother Hildebrandt, I promised I would take you there," es-Sitt interrupted.
Sid Guy smiled. "I must warn you, Fuad, that my daughter particularly wants to take you there to talk to you about our religion. As I have told you before, in matters of religion there is no compulsion in this house. If you are willing to go with her, she will be glad and so will I, but if you are not willing the matter is closed."
I glanced across at es-Sitt, who was sitting smiling eagerly at me. The morning sun came through the window behind her and lit up her red hair so that it looked as if her head was on fire. It struck me that she was a very beautiful girl and any uneasiness I might have felt vanished as I thought of being taken anywhere by her. I bowed.
"I am willing to go, Guy."
At once es-Sitt rose and came to me, sliding her arm through mine so that her hand lay in the crook of my elbow. I gasped, expecting her father to rebuke her or at least to frown, but instead he grinned and waved us on our way.
"Look after her, Fuad," he called as es-Sitt tugged me out of the room.
"Sitt," I said as we descended the steps, "Will I get your horse?"
"Call me Trudy," she snapped. "No, we'll walk. Go and get your cloak, it's cold."
"And your cloak, Trudy?" I asked.
Trudy waved me away. "Don't you worry about me," she said.
I hurried to fetch my cloak, expecting to see Fatima holding Trudy's cloak when I returned, but greatly to my astonishment there was no sign of her and in a moment Trudy and I were walking alone along the street with Trudy holding firmly onto my arm under the cloak and so close that I could smell the scent of her hair. She chattered happily, telling of what everyone had been doing while I was away but her closeness disturbed my mind and I could think of nothing to say in reply.
After what seemed like only a few minutes she turned left and led me down a short lane at the end of which she pointed to a narrow gate.
"That goes down to the Mosque of Omar," she said. "Do you know the story of that place?"
I considered. "Is that where the Caliph Omar, may God reward him, prayed when he came to Jerusalem?" I asked.
"That's right," Trudy said. "You know the story?"
"Your father told it to me the first day we met," I replied.
Trudy laughed. "Indeed. My father has great respect for Caliph Omar and whenever some new pilgrim comes and wants to slaughter all you Muslims, he tells him that story to rebuke him. I've been hearing it ever since I was a baby."
I would have liked to go down and see the mosque, for it seemed deserted and there were weeds growing in the small courtyard, but Trudy turned to the left and led me down another set of stairs to a much larger courtyard, on the other side of which there was a grand doorway. The courtyard was crowded with people: priests and monks, pilgrims, beggars, hawkers and guides. The noise was deafening.
Trudy tugged on my arm and when I looked down at her she nodded towards a couple, a young man and young woman, who were sharing a cloak. Their breath steamed in the cold air and they laughed together happily as they walked.
"They look warm," Trudy commented. She stood staring after them for a moment and then set off briskly, dragging me after her. "Come on, let's go in."
Still holding my arm she led me through the crowds of pilgrims and in through the doorway, making the sign of the Cross on her face as we entered the building.
Here the crowds were even thicker, with Nasrani priests and monks of all sorts moving among the pilgrims. The huge building was filled with a great humming like bees as hundreds of people murmured their prayers, and somewhere far off men were singing, their voices echoing eerily.
"This way," Trudy said, pulling on my arm so that I had to turn to the left.
She pushed her way confidently between the pilgrims but I hung back slightly. Even though I was wearing Frankish clothes and my skin and hair were no darker than that of many others in the church, I still felt that everyone must be staring at me. At any moment I expected that someone would raise the cry that there was a Musselman in the Nasrani holy place, but in fact nothing happened.
After a few steps we entered a huge space beneath a high dome, in the middle of which there was a small building of the size of a peasant's hut but much grander, being made of many-coloured stones. In front of it there was a long line of people standing quietly. Trudy led me up to them and joined the end of the line. I looked about me nervously. There were two black-robed priests guarding the doorway into the small building and a continual coming and going as pilgrims pressed in through the door or fought their way out again.
"What is this place?" I whispered to Trudy.
"This is the tomb of Jesus," she replied in her normal voice, though I noticed that she was speaking to me in Arabic.
"What are these people doing?" I asked in the same tongue.
"They are going in to pray in the place where Jesus was buried," she said, smiling at me.
"But you said that the prophet Jesus, on whom be peace, is not there any more," I protested.
"Of course not, silly." She squeezed my arm and laughed. "That is why I have brought you here, so that you can see that the tomb is empty."
"You want me to pray there?" I demanded.
Trudy shook her head. "You do what you like. Not everyone prays; some just enter and stand quietly for a moment. If you do pray I should think that you will be the first Muslim ever to pray in the tomb." She laughed. "And don't ask me where the qiblah is. I've no idea which way Mecca lies from here."
The line slowly shuffled forward with many halts and delays. Some pilgrims went into the tomb and came out again almost immediately; others were in there for a long time. As no one took any notice of me my fear gradually died away and, indeed, I slowly became conscious of a great feeling of peace and joy that seemed to fill the air about us. I was surprised to find this feeling here in a Nasrani building crowded with idolators crossing themselves and praying to three Gods at once.
