mingled with pirates, soldiers, slave dealers, and scholars. Long had Cadiz been famous for shipping and trade. My old tutor, of Greek-Arab family, told me of a manuscript, left by Eudoxus, which described finding the prow of a ship from Cadiz floating in the sea off the coast of East Africa, and that long before Christ.
A beggar tugged at my sleeve. "Alms! Alms! For the love of Allah!"
It was a lean hawk's face into which I gazed, piercing eyes and a beak of a nose, a face ancient with evil and shadowed by cunning, yet there was something more, a touch of wicked humor, was it?
"Oh, Father of Lice," I said, "what claim have you for alms? You look to be a thief and a son of thieves!"
His shrewd old eyes held a gleam of satanic amusement. "A thousand pardons, Noble One! Pity, for my poverty and weakness! Alms, for the love of Allah!"
The face, the manner ... now if he were clean?
"Conveyor of Vermin," I said, "I give no alms, but if you would have a gold piece, then we shall talk. A gold piece," I added, "or an edge of steel if you betray me."
"A gold piece?" His eyes gleamed maliciously. "For a gold piece I would smuggle you into the finest harem in all of Spain! For a gold piece I might-ah, I know just the wench! A devil she is, a fiend out of Hell, but wise in the ways of pleasure, and she has a-"
"I said nothing of women. Follow me."
Outside a public bath we paused. A muscular Negro with huge gold rings in his ears stood there. Gesturing to the beggar, I said, "Take this bag of fleas and dip it, scour it, clip it, and comb it. I would have it resemble a gentleman!"
"By Allah." The slave spat into the dust. "Am I a djinn, to perform miracles?"
The beggar leered at him. "O Master! With so many baths in Cadiz why bring me to this, which houses this stench in the nostrils of humanity? Why must I, in my old years, be forced to listen to this Shadow of Ignorance?"
"Enough!" I spoke harshly, for we Kerbouchards know the way of command. "Get him inside. Burn that hive of corruption he wears for clothing. I shall return in less than the hour with fresh clothing!"
When at last he stood before me-his beard trimmed, his hair clipped and combed, dressed as befitted a man of dignity and means-he looked a noble if a crafty man, and such a one as I wanted.
His name, and I have no doubt the rascal lied, was Shir Ali, from Damascus, a merchant in his time and later a dervish, who had fallen on evil days.
"You are a merchant again," I told him, "freshly arrived from Aleppo to dispose of a cargo and galley with all possible speed. The cargo is of spices and silk in bales. Dispose of it well, Shir Ali, dispose of it this afternoon, and you shall be amply rewarded.
"If there is a false move or I am betrayed in any way, I shall"-I put my hand upon the knife-"empty your guts into the dust!"
Selim leaned toward him. "And I will slice you to ribbons and feed you to the dogs!"
At a small shop we drank wine together, and I showed him the cargo manifest and measured the ship with words. He glanced at the manifest and nodded. "Excellent! In a week's time-"
"You have four hours," I said. "I am your impatient nephew from Palermo, whose inheritance this is, and I must leave at once for Toledo. You abhor haste, but with such an impatient youth, what can one do? Besides, there is a girl-"
He raved, he protested it could not be done. We would lose money! We would be cheated! It might be done in two days but.
"It is a pirate ship," I told him coolly. "The crew is in town getting drunk. You will sell it now ... today."
His glance was unbelieving, then he shrugged. "You have courage," he said, "or you are a fool."
"My blade cuts both ways, so be quick." Merchant he undoubtedly had been; thief he had probably been, but he had a way with him, did Shir Ali. At every step I feared to come face to face with Walther or one of the crew, yet the old beggar would not hasten. "You have chosen well," he said, "for a beggar sees much that others do
A beggar tugged at my sleeve. "Alms! Alms! For the love of Allah!"
It was a lean hawk's face into which I gazed, piercing eyes and a beak of a nose, a face ancient with evil and shadowed by cunning, yet there was something more, a touch of wicked humor, was it?
"Oh, Father of Lice," I said, "what claim have you for alms? You look to be a thief and a son of thieves!"
His shrewd old eyes held a gleam of satanic amusement. "A thousand pardons, Noble One! Pity, for my poverty and weakness! Alms, for the love of Allah!"
The face, the manner ... now if he were clean?
"Conveyor of Vermin," I said, "I give no alms, but if you would have a gold piece, then we shall talk. A gold piece," I added, "or an edge of steel if you betray me."
"A gold piece?" His eyes gleamed maliciously. "For a gold piece I would smuggle you into the finest harem in all of Spain! For a gold piece I might-ah, I know just the wench! A devil she is, a fiend out of Hell, but wise in the ways of pleasure, and she has a-"
"I said nothing of women. Follow me."
Outside a public bath we paused. A muscular Negro with huge gold rings in his ears stood there. Gesturing to the beggar, I said, "Take this bag of fleas and dip it, scour it, clip it, and comb it. I would have it resemble a gentleman!"
"By Allah." The slave spat into the dust. "Am I a djinn, to perform miracles?"
The beggar leered at him. "O Master! With so many baths in Cadiz why bring me to this, which houses this stench in the nostrils of humanity? Why must I, in my old years, be forced to listen to this Shadow of Ignorance?"
"Enough!" I spoke harshly, for we Kerbouchards know the way of command. "Get him inside. Burn that hive of corruption he wears for clothing. I shall return in less than the hour with fresh clothing!"
When at last he stood before me-his beard trimmed, his hair clipped and combed, dressed as befitted a man of dignity and means-he looked a noble if a crafty man, and such a one as I wanted.
His name, and I have no doubt the rascal lied, was Shir Ali, from Damascus, a merchant in his time and later a dervish, who had fallen on evil days.
"You are a merchant again," I told him, "freshly arrived from Aleppo to dispose of a cargo and galley with all possible speed. The cargo is of spices and silk in bales. Dispose of it well, Shir Ali, dispose of it this afternoon, and you shall be amply rewarded.
"If there is a false move or I am betrayed in any way, I shall"-I put my hand upon the knife-"empty your guts into the dust!"
Selim leaned toward him. "And I will slice you to ribbons and feed you to the dogs!"
At a small shop we drank wine together, and I showed him the cargo manifest and measured the ship with words. He glanced at the manifest and nodded. "Excellent! In a week's time-"
"You have four hours," I said. "I am your impatient nephew from Palermo, whose inheritance this is, and I must leave at once for Toledo. You abhor haste, but with such an impatient youth, what can one do? Besides, there is a girl-"
He raved, he protested it could not be done. We would lose money! We would be cheated! It might be done in two days but.
"It is a pirate ship," I told him coolly. "The crew is in town getting drunk. You will sell it now ... today."
His glance was unbelieving, then he shrugged. "You have courage," he said, "or you are a fool."
"My blade cuts both ways, so be quick." Merchant he undoubtedly had been; thief he had probably been, but he had a way with him, did Shir Ali. At every step I feared to come face to face with Walther or one of the crew, yet the old beggar would not hasten. "You have chosen well," he said, "for a beggar sees much that others do
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