The Last Watchman of Old Cairo by Michael David Lukas

Author:Michael David Lukas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-03-13T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

That following afternoon when Ali stopped by Ephraim ibn Shemarya’s fabric shop, hoping to continue the conversation with al-Zikri, the men were consumed with a discussion about one of the synagogue’s ritual slaughterers, a man named Yakob, who had suddenly taken ill. Doctor Mevorakh said he had never seen such an illness. First came the chills and bloating, then the patient was covered with festering sores that seemed to sap the very life from him. All week, the mood outside the fabric shop was tense. No one talked much, except when Doctor Mevorakh stopped by with an update. Then one morning, less than a week later, Ali was awakened by the sound of wailing. He ran outside and al-Zikri told him the news. Yakob had died.

“There is no power or strength but in God,” Ali said and al-Zikri agreed.

“Life is a fickle guest. One never knows when it will depart.”

Yakob was a simple man, without money for musicians or professional mourners, but he was well loved. And that night, when the funeral procession passed by the front gates of the synagogue, the dead man’s bier was followed by what seemed to be the entire community, all bearing torches and lanterns. Watching the procession stream past, Ali bowed his head, but not so deeply that he would miss his beloved if she walked by. He knew this was a horrible thing to think, but at that point, his longing was beyond his own control.

After the procession had passed, Ali returned to his post and took up his lantern for a second round. Nothing seemed amiss in the courtyard or the prayer hall, but when he climbed down into the attic, he saw that the piles of paper had been scattered, as if by a hungry animal. The compartment that housed the Ezra Scroll had been thrown open, but thankfully the scroll was still there, glowing slightly in its nest of pale blue silk. Raising his lantern, Ali picked his way to the back of the attic, looking for some indication of who or what had caused the mess. When the slant of the roof prevented him from going any farther, he turned. And there, hiding in a dim niche at the front of the room, was Hasdi il-Sephardi, a sack slung over his shoulder and white hair glinting in the yellow lantern light. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only movement in the room was the trembling of Ali’s hands.

“You do not see me,” Hasdi said.

Ali closed his eyes, wanting very much to believe that this was nothing more than a hallucination, but when he opened them again, Hasdi was still there.

Ali took a small step forward and Hasdi raised his hand.

“You will not tell anyone you saw me.”

He put a finger to his own temple and Ali felt his head throb in that very spot.

“If you tell anyone you saw me, I will expose you. I will tell them you forced me to cast a spell on her.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.