And were the people content with unjust prices?
Some were, master, as men have to be in all countries. The others went into the mountains and robbed the merchants.
But now, master, a man robs a merchant and he is cast into prison. Now a man is slain in the market and his son, his own son, master, may not follow after the aggressor and slay him and burn his house. They are ill-content, master. No man robs the merchants, no man slays them, and the merchants’ hearts are hardened and they oppress all men.
I see. They don’t like good government?
They sigh for the old times, master.
I see; I see. In spite of all I have done for them, they want their old bad government back again.
It is the old way, master.
Yes, yes. And so they would rebel. Well, we must watch. You have warned me once again, Daoud, and I am grateful. But you are wrong, Daoud, about the gracious lady. You are mistaken. It is impossible. You are mistaken, Daoud. I know it could not be.
I am mistaken, master. Indeed, I am mistaken. Yet, watch. Watch, master.
Well, I will watch.
And, master, if ever I come to you bearing oars, then watch no longer, master, but follow me through the banquet chamber and through the room beyond it. Move as the wild deer move when there is danger, without pausing, without wondering, without turning round; for in that hour, master, in that hour . . . .
Through the room beyond the banquet chamber, Daoud?
Aye, master, following me.
But there is no door beyond, Daoud.
Master, I have prepared a door.
A door, Daoud?
A door none wots of, master.
Whither does it lead?