The King’s Scribe and the Lamp Maker
The Third Adventure
Winter with its cold rains came and passed. The land grew warm again, as the sun slowed its journey through the sky and the time for growing began. But the winter had been long for Rafi al Kateb abd al-Malik, the King’s Scribe. Long had he pondered on the matter of Boutros Yasir’s lamp. It seemed there was no answer to the mystery. What was more, the King had summonsed Rafi to the great central city, for he had need of Rafi there. This duty had kept Rafi from spending much time with his friend Amin al Siraj. And how Amin had prospered! He was not wealthy, no, but he was working very hard and life had become better. So the spring came and with it new surprises.
One day, when Rafi was in the great city, he heard a knock on the door of his house. He went to the door, but no one was there. On the ground he found a leather case and when he opened it he found a rolled scroll inside. He unrolled the scroll and Lo! The scroll contained the design of the lamp Boutros had put in the window of the inn. It was the very same design only the colors were different. And with the scroll came a letter, saying that it was the design of a very old lamp, which was replaced by the one in the window of the inn. Now Rafi wanted answers more than ever, for a King’s Scribe is not one to suffer a mystery too long. He straightaway sent a message to Amin and told him that about the scroll and the letter. Then he went on a journey to find the wisest man he could in the kingdom, and he was sure he knew where that man lived.
Deep in a far off valley Rafi found the one he was looking for. The man was known as Noor al Allah. He was older than Rafi with a great beard and very thin brows. Noor was dressed in blue garments, with a white turban, and he sat on an old wooden bench in front of his house, smoking a pipe in the shade of a flowering tree. Rafi rode up on his good horse and dismounted. He bowed to Noor, who nodded back.
“A word with you if I might,” said Rafi. “For I have heard of your wisdom and I have need of it.”
“I will share whatever wisdom is mine to give,” said Noor, and he motioned Rafi to sit beside him on the bench. Rafi was happy to sit, for it had been a long ride on a very sunny and warm day. The shade of the flowering tree was a welcome relief. Looking out on the valley, Rafi could see the air shimmer in the heat. It was a prosperous valley, with many vineyards, olive groves, and small farms. Rafi heard the sound of a woman humming inside the house. He looked at Noor who smiled.
“My wife,” said Noor. Then he called to her, “Wife, we have a guest. Bring tea and sweet cakes for us.” Then he looked at Rafi and asked, “What is this matter that requires my help?”
So Rafi told Noor all that occurred from the very beginning. While he did so, Noor’s wife came outside with a small table. She was a round, pleasant looking woman with bright eyes and an easy smile. She was dressed in blue too, with a soft veil that floated about as she moved. Quickly the table was set with the tea and cakes. Then she brought a chair outside for herself and listened as Rafi talked.
Noor shook his head at the end. “I don’t know what to tell you friend, “ he said. “Perhaps Boutros was truly offended and did not want the lamp.” At this, Noor’s wife snorted loudly and both men looked at her in surprise.
“Men!” she snapped with some irritation. “Always looking beyond what is in front of them! Boutros never wanted the lamp. You said yourself he was close kin to Wasim Yasir. Wasim’s friends used Boutros to make your friend look foolish.” And she looked at them both with an air of satisfaction.
“Now wife, “ Noor began, but she cut him off.
“You think this is just silly women’s gossip don’t you?” she asked. Noor puffed on his pipe and looked away, while Rafi remained silent.
“Well,” she went on, “have you looked lately at the works and words of Wasim Yasir? Have you looked at his marketplace? Why just last month I went to visit family who live nearby it, and they said so much about it I had to go and see for myself.” She stopped, waiting expectantly.
Finally Rafi spoke, “and what did you see good woman?” for now he was beginning to wonder what he was missing while serving the King elsewhere.
“Wasim Yasir was disrespectful to the committee for poor widows and orphans, saying publicly they failed to recognize his importance. One wonders at the true reason for his famous feast. And he has said many hard things about his former partners, and some have responded in kind.” Noor’s wife paused to gather her thoughts as Rafi waited on the edge of the bench.
“Wasim has done very little besides hide in the houses of friends and speak of many plans. All the while, his marketplace has become a haven for those who wish to bring down the King. Wasim has been seen in the company of those speaking dark things and he has said himself that he has been in their houses and will help them.” With this Noor’s wife sat back in her chair, quite pleased with herself.
“Woman,” said Rafi, concerned with what she had just said, “how do you know this, and what does Wasim’s sojourns with rabble rousers have to do with this matter?” For he knew whom she spoke of, an old man who dazzled the young with soft words for them, and cold words for the King. He was a noisemaker perhaps, but not dangerous. “And,” Rafi continued, “Wasim is said to be so wealthy that he no longer fears hunger or cold. So it matters not what plans he makes.”
The wife of Noor rolled her eyes in exasperation and then said sternly, “Whose unseen hand guided the attack on your friend? And whom do you think inspired Boutros to agree to a lamp, which he then threw away? And why is it the ‘rabble rousers’ congregate openly at Wasim’s marketplace?”
“Because Wasim is a tolerant man,” said Rafi, although he did not believe his own words.
“Then he is a bigger fool than he already seems, for these are a most intolerant people,” said Noor’s wife, who then described the many arguments she had seen and the way others avoided the marketplace. “They wish to claim Wasim as one of their own, but lack the courage to say it openly.”
“Perhaps Wasim is not really with them,” responded Rafi, “for he is surely known for speaking his mind.”
“Perhaps,” she relented. “Yet his glory has faded and if this suits him, so be it. But mark my words Scribe, the day is fast coming when Wasim Yasir must speak openly of that which is whispered behind his back. Not in riddles or puzzles, but plainly, like the air we breathe.” Then they all turned to the tea and cakes, and spoke of more pleasant things. As evening came, Rafi took his leave of them.
“I am sorry friend if my wisdom was too little for such a difficult matter,” said Noor.
“Oh I have heard wisdom here,” said Rafi. “Although not the way I expected to.” And he was off to the city. For he had matters to attend to before he continued the search for truth.
Not long after, he journeyed to the village and came to the home of Amin. They spent a long night in deep discussion. Rafi learned of many strange visitors to Amin’s workshop, strangers who spoke his name as if they knew him and were his friend. It was most unusual, but Amin was not inclined to worry. But he was discouraged about the scroll. “I did not know of this one,” he said. “I truly believed Boutros made a mistake.”
“It is possible Boutros did,” said Rafi, but he was not thinking about the matter of the lamp itself, as he recalled the conversation at the home of Noor al Allah.
Rafi spent a few days in the village, making discreet inquiries. Then he heard something about Wasim Yasir that caused him to ride south to the city of the Lamp Maker’s Guild. Yet it was not the Lamp Makers he went to see. For Rafi had heard that there would be a gathering of certain people with Wasim and he wanted to see this for himself. A few days later, he was at the home at the appointed day and hour. And Lo! There was Wasim, in the company of the young followers of the rabble rouser, seeming most content in their worship. Listening to their words, Rafi knew these were not strangers to Wasim, indeed they had met many times.
Rafi left quietly, unseen, bowing his head and pulling on his beard. “So, Noor’s wife spoke the truth,” he thought. “Wasim has joined himself to a failed opponent of the King, and to what purpose? And this opponent has showered him with praise and the adulation of the young. Has Wasim truly lost his way?” He could barely believe what he had just seen; yet his very own eyes had seen it. If the wife of Noor were right about this, would she be right about what must yet happen?
Rafi returned to the village, and spoke with the King’s Guard about his friend Amin. He did not want anything to happen to Amin at the hands of the misguided, however well intentioned they might be. “We will keep careful watch,” said the Captain of the Guard. “for we have long wondered if those silly people would come forward yet again. If they do, we will be ready.” Rafi then rode back to the King’s city, certain his friend would be safe. He was sad that Wasim Yasir, and probably his cousin Boutros, had fallen in with people whose words could charm and dazzle like a magician’s. He did not understand how they could do so.
Yes, Boutros had made a mistake. He agreed to have a lamp made, then rejected it so quickly that it aroused questions. And those questions had led Rafi to answers he had not expected. He stopped under the stars, for it was nightfall, and spoke to the Unseen One who sees all.
“I asked for your help,” he said. “And this is what I get! What else do you have in store for me?” And then he urged his horse into a trot and went on down the road.