The Prodigal Page #3

a golden-haired high priestess.

Yes, Bosra,

you'll find that the people

will grow hungrier,

much, much hungrier.

Thief! Thief! Thief!

Alms! Alms! I beg of you! Alms!

For pity's sake.

Alms! Please! Alms!

So these are the citizens

of proud Damascus!

Here.

Master, what do you seek?

A roof for your head?

Food for your belly?

The exquisite pleasures of Damascus?

Carmish knows the best.

Let Carmish serve you.

You're a stranger in Damascus.

I can tell by your beard.

And what each stranger hungers

to see first is the Tinted Wall.

Only a stone's throw, the Tinted Wall.

Let Carmish take you.

For, as Carmish is known to say,

"Grab hold of the day,

who knows if the night will ever come!"

- Lead the way, Carmish.

- And a merry way it will be.

Master, Carmish sees all, knows all,

withholds nothing.

The mute, rid yourself of him.

He's a troublemaker.

- Troublemaker?

- Yes, an evil one.

He belonged to the High Priest,

but not long ago in Joppa, some...

- Master, you are not...

- From Joppa.

- Why?

- Nothing. Very interesting seaport, Joppa.

Yes, but here, the Tinted Wall,

covered with offers.

You can buy anything.

Satisfy any need, any desire.

Write your offer in gold or as low

as 10 pieces of silver.

Master, do you wish a housekeeper,

a cook, a dancing companion?

Do you like women tall, short,

fat, slim, shy, talkative?

Speak, and trust my judgment,

for though my ribs are sharp

and my tongue is parched for wine,

I am a man of learning.

I can even do your writing for you.

Would you consider Aida,

who cooks so beautifully

you forget she looks like a crow?

Or Murdeh, who can stitch anything,

including your heart?

Or Kafah, with lips as soft as her song?

For me, only one name

shall ever be written on the Tinted Wall.

- Which name, Master?

- Samarra.

He's new in Damascus.

He does not know our custom,

our faith. Alms!

Alms from the noble-hearted stranger.

Master, the Tinted Wall is not

for the name of Samarra,

High Priestess of Astarte.

That would be sacrilege!

You've a quick head, Carmish.

Speak so of Samarra,

you won't have any head at all.

You're an infidel, but I like you.

I like you too much to see you thrown

into the pits as feed for the vultures.

Forget Samarra.

Whatever she may seem to you,

to her people she's Astarte in the flesh,

and a golden Astarte at that.

She lives within the temple walls,

guarded by 1,000 damask blades.

No infidel is ever permitted

into her sacred presence,

or for that matter,

into the temple gardens.

I've heard of the gardens.

- And of the havens in the gardens.

- Where dwell the attendant priestesses,

the most voluptuous maidens

east of Alexandria.

To stroll through the temple gardens

is a sensation no mortal man

can ever forget.

And to linger there...

But, Master,

even outside the temple walls,

Damascus has pleasures,

diversions, wine shops unsurpassed.

Let me find you an intriguing way

to forget Samarra.

No, Carmish,

I've come too far to take less.

I will enter the temple,

and I will see Samarra.

If ever you need Carmish, you'll find me

at the wall opposite the baker's shop.

Master!

The riffraff, getting rid of them

cost me at least 18 pieces of silver.

Twice eighteen pieces of silver.

Master, I will not even

have to use a razor.

Your beard will melt off.

I have my own mixture.

I use rosin, pitch, ivy gum, she-goats'

gall, bats' blood and powdered viper.

Just trim it.

But, master,

beards are for outlanders, infidels.

No citizen of Damascus wears a beard.

I do and shall!

It is the custom of my people!

Every maiden in the city will see only you.

- But if I may suggest...

- The beard remains!

The price is high.

My funds are not unlimited.

Oh, believe me,

land is the best investment.

Most foreigners are fools.

They throw their gold away.

But buy this villa,

and your fortunes will multiply every year

with every harvest.

That is the richest soil that...

That face. I knew I knew it.

- Why, my friend?

- Oh, nothing, nothing at all.

You find in me a man

of discretion and tolerance.

Besides, I'm sure you weren't responsible

for what befell our High Priest at Joppa.

May the very name of Joppa be accursed.

But I was responsible.

A truly noble attitude.

I... l respect you for it,

but... It's courageous,

but take care, Micah.

This Asham is a born troublemaker.

Why, even when he was a free man,

he was always stirring up the slaves,

persuading them that

they worked too hard and ate too little.

Bosra, I've decided to buy the villa.

- You shall have your price.

- In gold?

In gold from Joppa, which I am certain

will never be accursed in Damascus.

A ready wit. I like you, young man.

- But if I may give you a word of advice...

- I know, the beard!

Now about the contract for the villa,

it's inside, already drawn.

Prepared for sign and seal. Wait here.

So everyone knows you

as a troublemaker.

Sometimes, Asham,

a man must make a little trouble.

- Do you come to serve Baal and Astarte?

- To serve and to sacrifice.

Enter, then, and purify yourself.

The wrath of Baal and Astarte

be upon you!

This holy place is not

for a bearded infidel!

You infidel!

Here!

Who else would exchange

a piece of silver for a broken head?

Word of this

should reach the temple soon.

Micah of Joppa?

What word do you bring

from the High Priestess?

You are to come to the temple.

I was told no infidel

was ever allowed into that temple.

No infidel ever wrote the name

of the High Priestess on the Tinted Wall.

Such boldness cannot go unrewarded.

We mustn't keep her waiting, Asham.

Asham!

Wait here, Asham!

May the gods of love forgive one

who has never given herself to love.

- An infidel climbing those steps!

- Patience, Rhakim.

Micah.

I am told that in Joppa you said,

"Everything has its price.' '".

Your High Priest said that.

I said I meant to have you,

one way or another.

Very interesting.

The way may be difficult

but not impossible.

It depends.

It depends upon what?

- On the price that is paid.

- Of course.

And what is the price?

It varies with the man,

with his wealth, with his wants.

The price paid to Astarte

by a Prince of Phoenicia

was that lamp of 100 lights.

It came from Kashmir.

And that jeweled cat of jade came

from a warrior of Cathay.

The bravest!

Have you ever seen

a prouder golden cockerel?

It was Astarte's price,

paid by the Grand Caliph of Baghdad.

A small man, but very strong.

It must comfort you to

have all these gifts.

Or rather, it must comfort Astarte

that she has all these gifts.

So it should. Everything is for my goddess.

The richest man in Damascus sent this.

And on the scroll he sent with it

were four words, grateful words.

But you, Micah,

should be the most grateful of all.

For your gift will be the most precious

and perfect of pearis.

The pearl King Solomon gave to Sheba.

Astarte shall wear this at her throat.

But your gift, she will wear in her crown.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes