Ahmed, a young merchant from Tunisia, was idly gazing at the silver ring with a green stone on his pinky. The evening had turned out dismally dull; his friends had all bailed on going to the club - everyone had something other to do.
"If only I could get some adventure right now," he murmured, lazily spinning the ring on his finger.
The stool beneath him gave a sudden jerk… and vanished. As did the bedroom it had been standing in. Now, beneath his feet, thick grass sprouted, reaching almost to the knee, ferns stuck out here and there, and mighty palms rose overhead.
"What in the name of shaytan…" Ahmed muttered and moved forward at random. After walking a couple dozen meters, the guy parted the fern and stared at the tail.
The tail was green, thick, scaly, and stretched a few meters in front of him. It was attached to a body of matching size, topped by a toothy head the size of a cupboard. And it was already turning toward Ahmed with interest.
The young man let out a howl and tore back into the undergrowth, barely watching where he was going.
Something saber-toothed clanked its jaws unfriendly near his ear.
Ahmed’s hand flew to his pinky - thankfully, the ring was still there.
"I want to go ho-o-ome!" he yelled. His shout echoed against familiar concrete walls. Ahmed glanced around and, with a sigh, ripped the ring off his finger and flung it under his bed.
Then he pondered a little, bent down, and carefully felt around where that cursed artifact should have fallen. Handling the devilish trinket with caution, he laid it on the table. "I’ll sell it," he thought. "Tomorrow, for sure."
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***
Anzhelika woke up and stared at the whitewashed, low ceiling. The dream she’d had, as though viewing some guy’s adventures in the depths of prehistoric jungles - why did he look vaguely familiar? - faded from her memory, displaced by reality. And reality was harsh: she was still stuck in the Middle Ages. Anzhelika sighed. Well, at least the company here was pleasant. She’d never truly been alone in her life - and she hoped she never would be.
Stretching and lazily sliding off the soft bed, the girl listened. From the courtyard came a man’s voice, speaking clearly and confidently. Anzhelika threw open the shutters and leaned out the window, which faced an inner courtyard.
A rush of hot air flooded into the room along with the chirping of birds. Below her, in the courtyard bathed in midday sun - judging by the position of the light, it must be around noon - the men of the household had gathered to pray. The master of the house stood at the front, reciting something in Arabic - likely verses from the Quran - focused intently in reading and trying to pronounce each letter and each word correctly.
Not wanting to idly observe something so personal, Anzhelika quietly closed the shutters. Approaching the table, she pulled out one of the small wooden fibred sticks - miswak - from the glass that stood there. She’d once tried one of these on a trip to the Middle East, but only as a quick novelty - just to see what it was like. Anzhelika picked up a small sharp knife that lay nearby to clean the tip of the stick. "Good company, clean teeth, soap for washing - life could be worse," she thought.
After freshening up and checking her teeth, Anzhelika dug through a pile of clean clothes that had been left for her. The clothes looked better than what the serving women wore, and for a moment she wondered where it had come from. Tahir had no wife and no daughters, as far as she knew... Probably left over from one of the deceased relatives. Pulling on her good old jeans and choosing a loose cream silk shirt that reached to her mid-thigh, Anzhelika tied it with a belt. The girl loved to emphasize her thin waist, as well as everything else that nature and fitness gave her. Then she left the room and went down to the utility room on the first floor to check on the moonshine she had left there to steep the day before.
In the utility room, Anzhelika suddenly met Mustafa, one of the young caravanners. He was curiously examining the container with the moonshine and tried to move the lid.
"The elixir is infusing," Mustafa commented in a busily manner, noticing her and quickly overcoming with some embarrassment. "By the way, what are its effects?"
"Minus one hundred to agility", Anzhelika wanted to say but didn't. Instead, she briefly explained:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAZUOuxeP5b
"Disinfection. And yes, you shouldn't drink it, you'll need to treat the wound with it."
Mustafa nodded, though Anzhelika eyed him with lingering doubt. However, she did not have time to watch if he followed the recommendations - she needed to go in search of additional medicinal herbs. She found Zukhra and Salima in the kitchen, busy cleaning, and addressed them:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6uOa39LHjw
"Good morning. Might you..."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT0XbwmSMKH
"Morning?" Salima interrupted in surprise. Zukhra tugged at her sleeve with a stern look. Anzhelika snorted:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuIKZFEYDLH
"Back at my home we say: good morning comes when you get up... By the way, might you have anything for breakfast?"20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlO2duYOUiv
"We’ll set the table, Lady," Salima said with a smile and a nod rummaging through the cupboard.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOywP8prdBT
"Oh, come on, give me something to chew on and that’s enough," Anzhelika waved her hand. "And I’ll head out around the area to pick sagebrush and chamomile."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDcYW5zFlgW
"We will help, Lady," Zukhra was energetically rattling something in the stove.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR8Kqg7ItTI
"Oh, for God's sake, no need, thank you. I see you have enough to do. I can handle it," Anzhelika took a sip of milk from the mug and bit into the flatbread Salima had handed her. The flatbread was soft and juicy - apparently the women had already managed to bake fresh bread that morning. "To drink also some coffee would be perfect," the girl thought. But Christopher Columbus wasn’t planning to go get some coffee until about three hundred years later, so she had to do without it.
Anzhelika stepped out of the cool house straight into the embrace of the Palestinian summer heat and was glad that she had changed her tight black T-shirt for a looser, lighter tunic. The girl adored the color black - and it looked great on her - but in such weather conditions, she thought, being in black she could only lie down and die beautifully.
Stepping through the gate, Anzhelika walked along the village streets. Absolutely everyone outside, on the street and in the courtyards, looked at her with surprise and curiosity: delighted (mostly men between the ages of sixteen and sixty), disapproving (Anzhelika's tight pants may have seemed like hellish depravity to someone), or just idle. But unlike Russian villages, where the girl came to visit relatives or friends, no one spoke to her, nor asked who she had come to visit, and no one tried to get to know her. She had to abandon plans to have fun by chatting with someone along the way, and concentrated all her attention on searching for medicinal herbs.
Having reached the end of the village, Anzhelika had already managed to think that if she fell right now from the southern hell into the notorious inferno, she would not notice the difference. In Middle Eastern countries, the girl was used to moving from one air conditioner to another at midday. But her efforts were rewarded with a small forest, in which the sought-after sagebrush and chamomile were quickly found under low trees. Anzelika picked a decent-sized bunch and, fanning herself with it, wandered back home.
As she approached the house, the girl heard some noise, as if several people were loudly arguing about something. Quickening her pace, Anzhelika entered the house - the noise was coming from near the utility room. Seeing the whole company standing there with dissatisfied faces, the girl immediately guessed what was going on.
And indeed, Mustafa was sitting on the floor, clutching his head in his hands and looking at the floor with a dazed gaze. The cup from which the spirit had spilled lay at his feet.
"How could you touch wine, you, a true Muslim!" Jasem scolded him sternly, but Mustafa obviously didn’t even hear him.
Anzhelika put aside the bunch of collected herbs and said confidently:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZnyFtvvzuh
"Guys, let me pass," and, when the company respectfully made way, she squatted down in front of the hapless drunkard. She looked into his cloudy eyes - the guy moved his gaze from the floor to her as if this action was difficult for him. The girl snapped her fingers at his temple - there was a reaction, although weak.
“He will survive,” Anzhelika delivered her verdict, rising to her feet and looking around the container of spirit. The spirit, thank God, remained intact - the losses amounted, apparently, to only one cup. The girl sighed, looking at Mustafa, and began: "We should..."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9YWnFk7Jyo
"...Dip him in a tub, and that's it," someone chuckled.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrR9AwEJIHw
"Oh no, no tubs,” Anzhelika was horrified, “we’ll drown him. He needs to be cooled off with water, and let him drink cold water more, and he'll be fine."
Two guys grabbed Mustafa by the arms and dragged him into the yard, where a barrel of water stood in the shade under a canopy. The company, some with jokes, some with indignation, followed. The boys bent the poor fellow over, and the other two generously but carefully poured water over him.
"And into my hands, please," Anzhelika held out her hands, the guys splashed cold water into her palms and the girl washed her face with pleasure. "How one could want to get drunk in such heat... Okay, guys, I'm off to prepare the medicine."
She took the sagebrush and chamomile and headed back to the kitchen. Salima and Zukhra volunteered to help her, saying that they wanted to learn herbalism because it's useful, and Anzhelika was happy to share her knowledge. The three of them gutted a fragrant bunch of herbs, put on gloves, and, covering their faces with a cloth to protect them from the fumes, brewed a healing decoction.
When the preparations were finished, Anzhelika went to the living room, where the men were seated. Among them the more or less sobered Mustafa was greedily gulping cold water from a glass. The girl approached the sufferer and checked his temperature by placing her hand on his forehead. Satisfied with his condition, Anzhelika told the guy to let her know if things got worse. Then she called Kamal to follow her - it was time to examine his wound and treat it. Kamal went out and, reaching the kitchen, asked the girl with curiosity:
"Anzhelika, tell me how you make a master key from a hairpin?"20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIYuDM5o8LR
Anzhelika took the hairpin out of her hair and explained, asking why he needed it.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCorZbgSd8q
"For the future," Kamal replied. "Who knows, maybe next time I'll have to get out alone". He rubbed his beard and added thoughtfully: "Instead of a hairpin, I can, for example, wear a cheap, bendable bracelet... Because enemies will take away the expensive one."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNM2FpnouxH
"And you haven't had enough work in intelligence after yesterday?" Anzhelika chuckled.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ02WglzVa4o
"The crusaders killed my brother," Kamal said seriously. "And as long as the war continues, I remain under the banner of Salah ad-Din."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7bQiuYaky2
Anzhelika blinked, paused for a moment, and quietly answered:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUYig0ZkDfO
"Then I wish you good luck."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX4EYBtWjaJ
"Inshallah, Anzhelika", Kamal responded.
Kamal’s hand was relatively fine - there didn’t seem to be any sign of infection. The girl cheered the guy up with this, and then wiped the wound with spirit, poured a decoction of sagebrush and chamomile over it, and bandaged it with a clean cloth. Having spirit on her hands greatly reduced Anzhelika's anxiety about the wound. It was somehow easier with it - almost like home.
When everything was done, two friends returned to the living room. The company, sitting on the sofas, sipping sherbet, inquired about the progress of the treatment and congratulated Anzhelika. The girl, sitting down next to Fazel, thanked them and looked with interest at the low table in front of them, on which stood a pile of various coins - gold, silver, copper. Jasem cleared his throat and said:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsOBdhkZxw3
"Now that everyone is here, let's divide up yesterday's loot. Let's share with the kind owner, under whose roof we found shelter so timely."
Several people began to count the loot and then divide it into equal shares. The coins shone slightly in their hands and jingled pleasantly - just as pleasantly as the banknotes had rustled once, in Anzhelika's previous life...
"Look at how much these shaytans stole from our brothers," Fazel muttered.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxGcYkiFvc8
"Yes, indeed," said Anzhelika, who was sitting with one hand leaning on a pillow and holding a goblet of sherbet in the other, "these devils also behave worse than ever with our Orthodox brothers."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGYtXm1GhTr
"And also with the Jews, as I heard," added Najib, the guy who was a guard in the caravan.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmH7wmGDO4y
"They say that even their fellow believers, the Catholics, in the recently captured Acre are already dissatisfied with the order of the crusaders, their greed and lawlessness," said Tahir.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVtTSRpJTsf
"To tell the truth, if I were the ruler Salah ad-Din, I would hang these dogs more often," Najib said. "Surely a greatest winner as he is can afford it."
A few voices chimed in agreement. Anzhelika froze for a moment, then sat up straight on the couch, exhaling and putting the cup down.
"Well, basically," she began softly, "mercy and diplomacy play as big a role in warfare as actual victories on the battlefield."
Everyone's gaze - interested, surprised, serious - was focused on her. Gathering her thoughts, Anzhelika went on:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡih6Es4OCD3
"If you don't forget to show mercy, some of your enemies will want to stand down. I’ve heard Salah ad-Din allows any crusaders who wish to worship at the holy sites in Jerusalem to do so..."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuoiWk1C4J5
"It’s true," Kamal added, looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMJByfiQfyl
"...And some of them," the girl continued, "having completed the pilgrimage, go back to their homes. And that means fewer enemies for Salah ad-Din to fight - and fewer casualties for his own army."
A deep hush fell on the room as everyone listened attentively.
"At various times, my country was attacked by people who had practically no knowledge of diplomacy. The biggest examples might be Napoleon or Hitler - both commanded armies effectively and built huge empires. But they were bad at forging alliances - and as a result they lost everything they had conquered and lost control over the remnants of their countries. This is how people end up if they make enemies wherever they can and arouse hatred in everyone... Salah ad-Din, on the other hand, is doing things the right way," Anzhelika concluded.
"True words, sister," Fazel supported her.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWsMpcQveCu
Najib rubbed the back of his head and added thoughtfully:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVuitQv6I6F
"Yes, I agree too."
Anzhelika caught Kamal's thoughtful gaze as the men one by one expressed their approval. At that moment, Zukhra entered the living room, carrying a large silver platter of flatbreads, and Salima followed with a tray of roast beef. It was time for lunch.
After they’d eaten, the master of the house and his guests dispersed to their rooms to take a little nap. Anzhelika returned to the second floor and saw Salima at her door. Salima, with a conspiratorial look, beckoned her over:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8GVrLWq3SO
"Lady Anzhelika!"20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJM0uxWQtf7
"Hm?" Anzhelika replied.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiFwhsSF04P
"The cook from the house of the elder just stopped by and asked where you were from, and if you planned to stay long. Young master Raef was awfully curious about you."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbysnqTRUWq
"Why such bypass maneuvers?" Anzhelika said with a grin. "He can always ask me himself."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKHYmmSRy5P
Salima’s dark eyes went round. Anzhelika continued carelessly:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNj7vTD8ujQ
"If you want, you can send my regards to him and tell that I'm here for a short time, and if he wants to get acquainted, he better handle his business directly next time, without the cook. Because in such ways one can be late everywhere in life..."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtavb3DIfF5
"I... I will", Salima stammered, glancing at Anzhelika in shock.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgqCCD6dUZ5
"By the way, Salima," Anzhelika said thoughtfully, "do you know if I can have a silk dress made by someone here - and do I have enough money?" She poured her honestly won earnings from palm to palm.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw9zCVaAFHM
"Oh, of course, Lady Anzhelika, there’s much more than necessary," Salima responded. "Zulfiya sews for us here, and she sews quickly, she will sew whatever you want!"20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ68NTvYmlbf
"Please make arrangements with her, preferably for this evening," Anzhelika asked, and Salima readily agreed.
Anzhelika went into her room, stretched out on the bed wearily, and sank into a doze.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEioXsdwwNr
