The Prodigal Page #6

Let me take you to the temple,

and I will show you.

And now, Micah, you will see.

Who is there?

Asham!

Your Micah expected you days ago.

He was fearful something

had happened to his gold.

I was fearful something

had happened to you.

All are asleep but Micah.

He's away with Samarra.

Asham...

He's not worth your devotion.

Forgive me!

Asham, let me say all the things

that your heart has said to me

with 1,000 tongues.

And let me say the things

my heart wants to answer.

But no.

What are words

between Asham and his Elissa?

The gold is in a pair of leather

saddlebags. And be quick with it!

The infidel, Micah,

is on his way back to his villa.

He will return any moment.

- We've done this before.

- Wait! Do not kill the mute!

The High Priest has other plans for him.

Away!

Away! Away!

Asham!

Asham!

It's all there. In the small writing.

"The loan to be repaid

with gold or with body.' '

"Read it," I said to Micah, "Read it.' '

But he was so impatient.

And how could he know

that his gold would be stolen?

His villa burned, worthless?

This ring, it's all he had left.

Who would've dreamed

that he'd have to be sold as a slave?

Sad. Sad.

You will sell him for shipment

to Carthage?

No.

To a Phoenician slave galley?

- I will buy Micah.

- No!

No, Samarra?

Why not?

Because I know

what you do to your slaves.

Why this concern for an infidel?

How you must hate him!

I wonder, is it only because

of this God he worships?

Remember, Nahreeb,

you may be the High Priest,

but I am the High Priestess.

You remember that.

We must teach this Micah that

the only true gods are Baal and Astarte.

A touch of paint, Samarra. You're pale!

Why did you sell him to Nahreeb?

Because I am too old

for many things, Samarra,

but I am too young to die.

Are you?

- This is unhurt.

- This one has a broken leg.

Take him to the pits.

How long will it take a vulture

to pick his bones clean?

I say to the count of 20. A wager?

Another wager. Out of the way.

These people of Damascus. Look at them.

Like oxen!

Why don't they speak out?

Rise up against Nahreeb?

Because they've forgotten

what it is to be free.

Always before

I have come to thee to serve.

Now I come to thee to seek.

Hear me, O Astarte.

It was he who brought

unto you your pearl.

- Help him, for the sake of thy servant...

- Samarra.

Were you praying for...

They said I should never

say his name, ever.

- Yes. I was praying for Micah.

- That's sacrilege.

The last time it happened

to a high priestess, they buried her alive.

She screamed most the whole night.

And all the people came

and listened and looked.

She screamed and screamed.

And then there wasn't a sound.

I know of the punishment.

But nothing like that

ever happened in Alexandria.

It did in Damascus.

To my mother.

Yes, I know.

But have no fear.

It will never happen again.

I hope not.

Samarra, you seem faint.

I'll go to my quarters and rest.

Why not walk out into the city?

The damask roses are in bloom

near the granaries.

The air is rich and heavy with scent.

And while you are there,

you might see Micah.

And if you should see him,

you might offer him his freedom.

If he will stand before my people

on the north steps and renounce his God.

Even if I were to go to Micah,

he would never renounce his God.

He is a stiff-necked infidel.

Have you ever seen Rhakim

whip a stiff-necked infidel?

For the marketplace in Joppa!

For Samarra!

For you and Samarra!

And now for the final test. Poor man.

I'm sure he's dead.

Let me.

Well?

Dead as an Egyptian mummy.

I'll call the jailers.

He's ready for the vultures.

Ready as he'll ever be.

No! Not yet.

Another moment.

Did he die young or old?

Out all of you! All but the infidel!

Quick with it!

Don't touch him!

Micah.

Elissa told me how much he meant to you.

Almost as much as you mean to me.

Nahreeb spoke to me.

He said he would set you free.

He sent me to say that to you.

He promised to set me free

in exchange for what?

What does he want?

What does he want?

That you stand before the people

and renounce your God.

A matter of words, Micah.

You say your God is false,

you need not mean it!

I proclaim to the people of Damascus

that my God is a false god,

- and I would be free?

- Yes.

Free of filth and chains and here

and all that goes with here.

Would you renounce your gods, Samarra?

I could never renounce Baal and Astarte.

They would have to renounce me.

But they could renounce you?

Yes.

You believe this with your whole being?

I do.

Well, I believe with my whole being, too.

I believe that my God could no more

renounce me than I could renounce Him

because something of my God

is in everyone who breathes.

Perhaps, perhaps not.

But if you could pretend to renounce,

it would be the two of us.

Micah and Samarra. It could be.

It could never be.

It's been beaten into me,

the hate I have for your Baal and Astarte.

I hate what they've done to your people

and to you.

I knew you would never do

as Nahreeb wished.

I knew it in my heart.

The usual punishment for loving

an infidel is to be buried alive.

Astarte picked

a crueler punishment for me.

"Hear, O lsrael. The Lord is our God.

The Lord is one."

"Blessed be his name, whose glorious

kingdom is for ever and ever."

"And thou shalt love the Lord thy God

with all thy heart and with all thy soul

"and with all thy might.

"And these words,

which I command thee this day,

"shall be upon thine heart,

"and thou shalt teach them diligently

unto thy children,"

"and shalt talk of them

when thou sittest in thine house,"

"and when thou walkest by the way,

and when thou liest down,"

"and when thou risest up.' '."

Thou shalt remind them of this.

Let him have my portion, too.

Your God has spared his life, Micah.

But for what?

- We will make our way out of here.

- I said that, too, long years ago.

What were you willing to do

to make your way out?

Anything.

What did you do?

Nothing.

You, Micah. What will you do?

Anything.

Yes, I will do anything.

And everything.

The people will forgive a tyrant anything

but the pangs of hunger.

This time Nahreeb has gone too far.

This is the right moment, Ramadi.

- But am I the right man?

- Yes.

There. Now you can pass unnoticed

on the streets of Damascus.

And very handsomely done,

if I say so myself.

This time it's for something worthwhile.

- It's time now for the drug.

- Magic. Pure magic.

You... You won't feel a thing in

your finger. Well, it'll be numb.

But the rest of you,

well, you'll be able to feel all over.

The names, places I gave you, Micah.

You remember them all?

Zubeir, the potter, Nisbin, the carpenter,

the anvil shop at the end of the street

called Straight,

- Salkhad, the fieldworker.

- This'll hurt.

A deep breath helps the bravest.

Abu, the stonemason,

Lirhan, the snow-man,

Dura, the perfumer,

Chaim, the water carrier...

Which of you killed the infidel?

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