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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781452521268 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Balboa Press |
| Publication date: | 10/14/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 148 |
| File size: | 221 KB |
Read an Excerpt
Tahrihim
The Cloth of the Dead
By Dale Warrick
Balboa Press
Copyright © 2014 Dale WarrickAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-2128-2
CHAPTER 1
The Discovery
Date 1341 A.D.
Location: a tiny house on the edge of a small town near Constantinople in Anatolia.
The walls of the small Turkish home are painted a muted rose by the morning sun. The rays stream in the open window. The dust stirred by the room's single occupant rises through the beams of light in gentle puffs creating an ever shifting canvas for the sun's rays to tint. The brilliant display is totally wasted on Nebi bin Ibrahim, the home's owner. He is too busy preparing for another day to notice the simple beauty created just for him.
Nebi arises early every morning and eats a modest breakfast before he leaves his home to prepare his stand at the market. For Nebi, today is just another boring day in a succession of boring days. He does not suspect for an instant that the chain of events about to happen could possibly change the lives of millions of people. How could he know, how could anyone have suspected, the events of this day and where they would lead. Nebi is a modest shop keeper at least that is what he calls himself, even though he really does not own a shop, but a small stand in the middle of the market where he sells fruits and trinkets. He has no children, or any other family to speak of. His entire life is his small stand in the market. Although he is a lonely man, he likes serving the people from his stand.
The sounds of the market buzz in Nebi's ears as his hands busily arrange the fresh fruit in the woven thatch baskets in front of his stand. As he finishes, he is particularly pleased with his stand this day. "My fruits are the best in the city," Nebi says to himself. "My fruits are the best in the city," he announces to the merchants around him. "Look! Look at this basket of pomegranates. And these mangos, or my figs and quinces. Have you ever seen such baskets of large and beautiful fruit?" Nebi exclaims, while crossing his arms and puffing his chest out with great pride. Most of the surrounding venders did not pay any attention to the old fruit peddler's boasting. They were too busy preparing their own stands for the day's customers. Besides, they have heard it all before. Nebi brags about his beautiful wares every morning.
Kemal, the owner of the stand next to Nebi, stops for a moment to complement his friend on the size and the variety of the fruits and vegetables he has to sell. As Kemal's eyes scan the fruits and their arrangement in front of Nebi's stand, he notices a small hand reaching between two of the baskets to take a couple of pomegranates. "Nebi!" Kemal shouts.
"What?" Nebi replies.
Silently Kemal points his boney finger at the small hand containing two of Nebi's best pomegranates as it disappears into the mound of baskets.
"No you don't, you little thief," Nebi shouts, as he grabs the wrist of the adolescent robber. In one swift motion, he pulls a young boy from the midst of his fruit, scattering the well-arranged baskets and their contents all over the market.
"No you don't." He shouts again, "I've got you, and you are not going to get away this time. I have suspected you and your brother are stealing my fruit for some time. Now I've caught you." The old merchant stops and looks around for a moment. "Where is your brother?" he asks.
"Over here," yells the older brother, taunting the old man with a pair of his finest mangos. The boy holds the fruit out, twisting them in the air to secure the merchant's attention. "Catch me if you dare," exclaims the boy.
Nebi turns his head to look over his shoulder in the direction of the older boy. He tightens his grip on his small captive, and then wheels them both around to have a better view of his tormentor.
The older of the two boys taunts the fruit merchant again, chanting in a sing-song manner, "Come on ancient one, and catch me if you want your fruit."
Before the old Turk can think of a response, the older boy throws the mango in his right hand as hard as he can, right at the old man's head. A second later the fruit strikes Nebi squarely between the eyes with an incredible splat. The ripe mango explodes all over his face, dislodging his tattered headdress. The crowd that had gathered to watch the unfolding melodrama roars with laughter as the syrupy remains of the mango runs down Nebi's face. His young captive simultaneously bites his hand, and kicks him in the shin as hard as he can. The elderly merchant, screaming in pain, drops to his knees as the two brothers make good their escape. They streak through the crowd with lightning speed.
The two adolescent thieves dart through the crowd, trying to avoid the grasp of the vender, clutching the two small mangos as they run. They turn the corner and run down the narrow space between the buildings. The two boys are too fast for the street merchant and soon they have out-distanced him. The older of the two steals a quick glance over his shoulder to see his pursuer panting like his father's horse after a hard ride. The fruit merchant does not want to stop chasing the two boys. They would regularly take fruit from his stand without paying, and he is determined to teach them a lesson, but they are too fast and he is too old. The old street vendor burns with the thoughts of what he will do to these little rag-a-muffins if ever he can catch them.
The boys streak from town, laughing as they devour the fruits of their latest caper. They joke with each other as they cross through the village's garbage dump on the way to their home, quite unaware that in the next moment they will discover an item that will capture the attention of the Christian world for centuries to come. They are about to unearth something that has been buried for so long it's very existence has long since been forgotten.
As they leave town, the brothers run across an open field and into a small grove of trees as fast as they can. This is their own personal shortcut to their home. Whenever they are in trouble, which is quite often, they run into this small stand of trees and hide in a rotten trunk stretching out over an embankment. This hiding place has never failed them. The boys run out of breath as they reach the small stream that twists lazily through the grove of trees. They stop to catch their breath and to listen for sounds of anyone pursuing them. Hearing none, they move on. They cross the stream and start up the sharp embankment, the smaller boy going first. His brother pushes him up the steep slope while the loose dirt shifts beneath his feet.
Yusuf, the older boy, plants his feet firmly in the soil and prepares to give his brother one final push. Suddenly the earth beneath his left foot gives way with a loud crack. The boy's left leg sinks into the ground up to his hip. He shakes his head, wondering what is happening. Before he can remove his leg from the newly formed hole, his brother falls from the embankment. Istani's small body lands squarely on his brother's shoulder. With an even louder crash, both boys fall into a centuries old, hidden cave.
Both Yusuf and his brother Istani lay motionless on the cold and damp cave floor. The little air in the old cave smells like a musty sulfur mix. Istani slowly begins to move, propping himself up with his right arm. He opens his eyes wide, trying to see, wondering just exactly where they are. He and his brother had climbed the hill hundreds of times and did not know this cave existed. If he was not so frightened, he would enjoy exploring this new wonder. As he sits motionless, he can hear water dripping in a far-off corner of the cave. Istani looks up at the freshly created hole he and his brother have fallen through. It seems so very high. Istani is sure he cannot reach it. He notices a small song bird on a limb that extends over the opening. The boy thinks to himself how completely unaware this creature is of the predicament Yusuf and he are in.
Still trying to gain the courage to move around the dark cave, Istani hears his brother moan. It is not a serious moan, but more like the noise a person makes when they don't know what else to say.
"Yusuf," shouts Istani, "You're not dead."
"Not yet, how about you," Yusuf replies, trying to catch his breath.
The younger brother's response, "I'm all right." He pauses for a moment to rub the wrist of his left hand. "Except for my hand. It does not move very well." Yusuf follows his brother's voice and scoots his body next to him.
The younger of the two boys begins sobbing. The thought of not being able to escape the grip of this unknown cave is too much for the young boy. "Don't worry. It will be all right," his older brother says in an unconcerned tone, hoping to calm his sibling. The truth is, he is not quite sure himself how they will ever get out of the cave. The opening they fell through is too high, even if Istani were to stand on his shoulders. And the walls are too smooth and moss covered to climb.
"Istani, look around the cave and see if you can find any rocks to pile up so we might climb out," Yusuf orders. Both boys start searching frantically for anything they can stand on to reach the opening at the top of the cave. After a few moments of groping the floor for anything, Istani screams with a loud whoop, "Yusuf, I found a jar. I think." The young boy had indeed found a jar partially buried in the far corner of the cave.
Yusuf slides close to his brother to investigate the find for himself. The light is still quite dim in the cave, so Yusuf coaxes his brother to slide the jar under the opening in the top of the cave. The inquisitive boys unearth it, and then clean the centuries of dirt from the jar, forgetting for the moment that they are trapped. The earthen jar is ancient, with a stone lid sealed with a cord tightly wrapped and coated with a waxy black substance. The jar is rough and very cold to the touch. It stands about eighteen inches tall, slightly cone shaped, with no distinguishable marks. The boys stare at the earthen container, wondering how it got placed in the cave.
"I say it is full of jewels. Rubies, I wager" Istani states with certainty.
"Rubies. How did a jar full of rubies get in this cave?" Yusuf asks his brother.
"Maybe a sultan was traveling through here and he was robbed. Yes, that's it. The criminals ran from the sultan's guard. Then they couldn't run any more. So, so they found this cave and they buried the jewels in this cave so they could come back later and get them. But the guards caught them and killed them." Istani pauses to take a deep breath then calmly states, "And that is why the jewels are here."
"Istani, you're stupid. You don't even know if the jar has jewels in it," Yusuf reproofs his younger brother.
Istani responds by saying, "You don't know there's not."
Before the two brothers can enter into a really good argument, Yusuf hears someone rustling in the brush near the opening in the top of the cave. The boys begin shouting, "Help, we are down here. Help! We are trapped in this hole!"
Suddenly a familiar face appears in the opening. It is Nebi, the fruit peddler, out of breath and with a few strands of mango pulp still clinging to his forehead. "Well, what have we here? Two little rats trapped in a hole." The old fruit merchant taunts the helpless brothers. "Shall I leave you here for a time to teach you a lesson?" Nebi's teasing is more in jest than anger. He has forgotten how angry he is with the brothers as soon as he sees them lying in the hole, all bruised and muddy. He decides then that the two have been punished enough. He is right, and both boys are more than willing to trade their petty thievery for freedom.
Nebi calls to the brothers again in an understanding tone. "Do you wish to stay in this hole forever or shall I help you out?"
"Please sir, please help us," Istani, the younger brother responds. "We promise to pay for the fruit we took if you will help us out of here."
"What about you?" Nebi directs his attention to Yusuf. "Will you make the same promise? Will you both promise to leave my stand alone?"
Yusuf stares at the old man with a look of contempt. He does not answer Nebi's request. He is angry at his brother for giving in so easily, and he is angry at the old fruit peddler for being the one who found them. And most of all, he is angry with himself for falling into the hole. "Well, what will it be boy, do you promise, or shall I leave you here to rot?"
"We promise," Yusuf shouts angrily. "Your cursed fruit is full of bugs anyway."
"Bah, I should leave you down there to teach you to have proper respect." Nebi says, as he disappears from the opening of the cave.
Istani begins to weep as he shouts for the old man to come back. The more he shouts, the harder he cries. The events for the day are too much for the young boy. After a few moments his shouts have become an unintelligible wail. Nebi's face appears once again in the opening as he calls out to Istani, "Stop your bellowing. I am not leaving. I just need to find something to pull you out with. Now, shut up. I will be back in a moment."
After a few minutes, Nebi finds a rather large limb that has fallen from a nearby tree. He picks it up and balances it in his hands. He gives an approving nod, indicating that this limb would do nicely. He then rests the crooked piece of timber on a large root and stands on it to make sure it is sturdy enough to use as a ladder. After he is convinced it will hold the weight of the two boys, he carries the tree limb back to the hole and lowers it into the cave opening. Even though they are bruised and sore, the two brothers scurry up the make-shift ladder like a pair of frightened monkeys, Istani still carrying the mud-encrusted jar.
Nebi, always the shrewd business man, spots the old jar in the boy's hands and recognizes it for what it is, an opportunity. If there is one thing the old man knows better than choosing good fruit, it is knowing what to do when a golden opportunity like this old jar presents itself. "Hold on boy," he shouts. "What do you have there?" Nebi continues, as he grabs Istani's shoulder.
Trying to break free of his grip, the younger brother shouts, "It's mine. I found it and I'm keeping it, so just leave me alone you smelly, old, donkey."
"No boy. You are going to give me that antique jar in payment for all the fruit you have taken from me," the fruit vender declares in a very low, stern voice that sends a shiver up the boy's spine.
Istani tries to kick Nebi in the leg, but this time the old Turk is prepared for the boy's attack. He swings the young boy violently off his feet. Swinging him around like a rag doll, the old merchant wraps his arm around the boy's neck and shoulder. Nebi begins to squeeze the breath from the boy's chest. Yusuf lunges fiercely toward the old man and is met abruptly by the back of Nebi's hand. The older brother falls to the ground in total amazement. The fruit vender is suddenly a tiger. He is sure the old jar will bring a small fortune from one of the infidels that visit his market, and he is not going to let these two bratty children stand in the way of his fortune.
Nebi knows he has to work quickly before the stunned Yusuf attacks him again. He shouts at the older brother, "Get up, and bring that jar to me before I break your brother's scrawny neck." Yusuf shuffles to his feet and goes immediately to the mud-covered jar. He stops and looks at it for a moment. He does not want to give in to the old man's threats, but he loves his brother too much to risk his life in any way.
"Hurry! I grow impatient," Nebi screams, hoping his young adversary does not realize just how much he is bluffing. Yusuf picks up the jar and carries it to Nebi.
Holding the jar in front of him, he shouts at the old peddler to drop his brother. "Let him go you cursed old man or I will drop this jar and smash it into dust." Yusuf screams.
Before his dreams of wealth slip through Yusuf's hands, Nebi releases his captive, throwing him roughly to the ground. In the blink of an eye he grabs the jar and cradles it in his arms. The merchant caresses the ancient piece of pottery like a mother holds her baby. He begins to talk to it. "I have been waiting for you all my life. Finally, something to sell that has real value. I will clean you, and polish you, and will sell you," Nebi coos.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Tahrihim by Dale Warrick. Copyright © 2014 Dale Warrick. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
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