An Appointment In Samara (Middle Eastern Tale)

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The Sighting

It was a cold morning in Baghdad. The air was heavy, laden by the morning dew. Brooding clouds hovered, warding off the sun’s light in every direction. Despite the cold, there was much activity in the market. Stray dogs rummaged hoping to get their morning fill. Birds chipped happily in their cages. Traders and buyer haggled, each one trying to outdo the other. It was into this market that Marinara, the gold merchant ventured in.

Marinara pulled his robe together as he passed the beggars. They heard the jiggling of the coins in his pouch and their wails grew louder. Marinara had no regard for their wails, he was concerned about his new robe. It had cost him five gold pieces. The beggars would worship him forever if he threw a silver coin in their direction but he wasn’t interested in worship. He was out for profit and the beggars were no use for him in that regard. As he left them, their curses filtered into one of his ears and fluttered out through the other.

He crossed over to the butcher’s section and heard someone wish him death. He was sure he knew who that was. It was most likely Abdul. Abdul had asked for a loan to treat his ailing wife. Marinara had turned down his request for two reasons. In his opinion, Abdul’s wife’s health had deteriorated so much that there was little chances of her surviving. Besides, there was no way Abdul would be able to repay the loan and the 40 percent interest in the stipulated time. Abdul had tried to Marinara’s human compassion. That was a futile move; Marinara was never one to mix emotion with business.

Marinara was almost at his stall when he suddenly lost control of his legs. The wrangling, haggling and bustling of the market were lost to him. A passer-by brushed his shoulder in disgust but he did nothing. A customer shout his name from across his stall, urging him to resume business but he did not even register the call. While all of these happened, Marinara stood as if his feet were buried in the ground, his gaze fixated on a single being. His face was as white as paper, his blood was rushing as a waterfall gushing through a rock. When Marinara regained conciousness, he ran as if he was being chased by tigers.

The Escape

“Ahmed, get my fastest horse ready.” Marinara barked as he ran into the large courtyard. Ahmed wondered what would make his master return to the house without his prized robe. He had heard tales of how madness began. Was this a telling sign? Ahmed wondered to himself as he walked to the stable.

Marinara knocked over his favourite urn as he entered his sitting room. He entered his room and made way for his safe. Inside, he retrieve a large bag. He had no time to count but it felt like a thousand gold coins were in it. Marinara never underestimated the power of money. With the right amount, one could get what he wanted and change what he didn’t.

“Ahmed! Ahmed!” Marinara called out as he headed for the door leading outside. In his haste, he ran over pieces of the broken urn and winced at the pain. It was then he remembered he had also left his slippers at the market. There was no time to get another. He would buy a new pair when he arrived at his destination, he told himself.

The horse was waiting outside for him. It was a racing horse that belonged to Marinara after he made the previous owner an offer he could not refuse. Well, it was time to see if the horse was worth 50 gold pieces. He mounted the horse and directed it towards the east. He had a long ride ahead of him, a journey on which his life depended on.

The Destination

Marinara arrived at Belgrade just as the sun was growing weary of staying in the sky. He spent only an hour in that city. He sold his tired horse for ten gold pieces and bought a fresh one. He also visited an inn where he refreshed himself and changed into new clothes. He needed to arrive at Samara before he got too late to travel. However, he was almost a thousand miles from Baghdad so he had little cause to worry.

He mounted his new horse and rode at a fairly pace, each gallop forcing a calm over his previously restless soul. He breathe in the cool air and thought it felt of freedom. He replied greetings from other travellers and even waved to some. When he arrived at Samara, he threw a gold coin at the beggars at the gate.

He rode into the market exhausted but yet happy. The market was coming to close. He only needed to find someone who would direct him to an inn. He unmounted and approached a woman in a veil. He greeted her and waited for her to turn. His heart almost stopped beating when he saw her face. It was the same face of death he had see in the market at Baghdad that same morning.

“Fine, you win. I am yours. But I wonder, why did you look surprised when you first saw me in Baghdad this morning?” He asked, his confused face begging for an answer.

“Because,” Death began in a voice that would have entranced Marinara if he was not facing an imminent end, “I had an appointment with you today in Samara”