Chapter 7
Arlemay in Damascus ~ continued from Chapter 6 | The Crescent City
Little Nuri, as the Roma called Arlemay, walked off the northwest corner of the Citadel and headed toward the marketplace for Bab Sharqi Street in the hot noonday sun. He stopped at the coppersmith souq where the smiths were beating pots and pitchers of copper into all shapes and sizes. The noise was too great so he covered his ears and carried on toward the shops.
He found himself in a rug souq where handwoven rugs in all shapes and colors with the local motifs were magnificently displayed. The market spread before him with its labyrinth of arcades and shops. He looked across at the Shoraj market but then disappeared into an aromatic wave of coffee, tea, spices and soaps.
The great bazaar that stood along the Barada River was overflowing with people escaping the heat of midday. The ceiling was high with thatched work around it and open wood beams. On each side of the bazaar were walkways and paths that started from eight rectangular open doorways supported with two white Ionic pillars.
Wooden tables and chairs littered the open tile floor before the market entrance. Inside was bedlam: barkers stood at each stall yelling and pointing to their wares that ran row after row.
“Come,” yelled the shopkeepers, each trying to outdo the other.
Little Nuri walked by himself along the winding, narrow paths, happy to escape his past and find pleasure in his new life in the east. He no longer dreamt of the mountain ranges or the cold streams that used to plague his nightmares. He was free. The long, lightweight tunics he wore and his fez made him disappear into a totally new world far from Greythorn.
He walked on quickly and decided to have a strong coffee at the open café next to the marketplace. Two men came from another alleyway and followed Nuri to the café.
One man hid a knife in his tunic while the other tried to push past the crowds that stood in their way. The taller man looked up and beyond the crowd and pointed.
“There.” He looked back at the other man. “It is him.”
The two pushed past men and women who protested but soon went back to what they were doing.
“Come.”
They hurried down tile steps that glistened in the sun and turned the corner in order to follow the slight man with a light step.
The man they followed now seemed to be going off course. He turned back and smiled briefly but continued past the open-air café and disappeared down warrens and alleyways at much greater speed. The two men now had to jog to keep up with him.
They turned to each other in puzzlement as Nuri kept walking. Suddenly he was gone but they turned around to see him following them. They froze as he disappeared once more.
“There he is,” one man cried out.
The two men slowed as dusk took hold of the alleyways. The stores were closed and even the wild dogs that usually roamed the streets were nowhere to be seen. In the distance they saw him running down another alley. They followed him into a cul de sac and were trapped. The man with a knife held onto it tightly as they looked around.
Nuri stood with his back to them, his slight figure bent in anticipation. A figure rose above them and looked down upon the two helpless men:
“You know not what you do.”
Continue reading… Chapter 7 | A Comedy of Love
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