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The Will of Allah 2
He had served prison sentences in all the
major towns in the country. Prison had become for him a home
from home. Like his companion in crime, he feared no man;
but unlike him, he had no religion other than self-
preservation. 'You and your religion,' he said in derision. 'A
lot of good it has done you.' Sule did not reply. Dogo knew
from experience that Sule was touchy about his religion, and
the first intimation he would get that Sule had lost his temper
would be a blow on the head. The two men never pretended
that their partnership had anything to do with love or
friendship or any other luxurious idea: they operated together
when their prison sentences allowed because they found it
convenient. In a partnership that each believed was for his
own special benefit, there could be no fancy code of conduct.
'Did you see the woman tonight?' Dogo asked, changing the
subject, not because he was afraid of Sule's displeasure but
because his grasshopper mind had switched to something
else. 'Uh-huh,' granted Sule. 'Well?' said Dogo when he did
not go on. 'Bastard!' said Sule, without any passion. 'Who?
Me?' said Dogo thinly. 'We were talking about the woman,'
replied Sule.
They got to a small stream. Sule stopped, washed his arms
and legs, his clean-shaven head. Dogo squatted on the bank,
sharpening his sheath-knife on a stone. 'Where do you think
you are going?' 'To yonder village,' said Sule, rinsing out his
mouth. 'Didn't know you had a sweetheart there,' said Dogo.
'I'm not going to any woman,' said Sule. 'I am going to collect
stray odds and ends -- if it is the will of Allah.'
'To steal, you mean?' suggested Dogo.
'Yes,' conceded Sule. He straightened himself, pointed a
brawny arm at Dogo: 'You are a burglar, too ... and a bastard
besides.'
Dogo, calmly testing the edge of the knife on his arm,
nodded. 'Is that part of your religion, washing in midnight
streams?' Sule didn't reply until he had climbed on to the
farther bank, 'Wash when you find a stream; for when you
cross another is entirely in the hands of Allah.' He limped off,
Dogo following him. 'Why did you call her a bastard?' Dogo asked. 'Because she is one.' 'Why?' 'She told me she sold the
coat and the black bag for only fifteen shillings.' He glanced
down and sideways at his companion. 'I suppose you got on to
her before I did and told her what to say?' 'I've not laid eyes on
her for a week,' protested Dogo. 'The coat is fairly old. Fifteen
shillings sounds all right to me. I think she has done very well
indeed.' 'No doubt,' said Sule. He didn't believe Dogo. 'I'd
think the same way if I'd already shared part of the proceeds
with her . . .
Dogo said nothing. Sule was always suspicious of him, and
he returned the compliment willingly. Sometimes their suspicion of each other was groundless, other times not. Dogo
shrugged. 'I don't know what you are talking about.' 'No. I
don't suppose you would,' said Sule drily. 'All I'm interested
in is my share,' went on Dogo. 'Your second share, you mean,'
said Sule. 'You'll both get your share -- you cheating son
without a father, as well as that howling devil of a woman.' He
paused before he added, 'She stabbed me in the thigh -- the
bitch.' Dogo chuckled softly to himself. 'I've been wondering
about that limp of yours. Put a knife in your thigh, did she?
Odd, isn't it?' Sule glanced at him sharply. 'What's odd about
it?' 'You getting stabbed just for asking her to hand over the
money.' 'Ask her? I didn't ask her. No earthly use asking
anything of characters like that.' 'Oh?' said Dogo. 'I'd always
thought all you had to do was ask. True, the coat wasn't yours.
But you asked her to sell it. She's an old "fence" and ought to
know that you are entitled to the money.' 'Only a fool would
be content with fifteen shillings for a coat and a bag,' said Sule.
'And you are not a fool, eh?' chuckled Dogo. 'What did you do
about it?' 'Beat the living daylight out of her,' rasped Sule.
'And quite right, too,' commented Dogo. 'Only snag is you
seem to have got more than you gave her.' He chuckled again.
'A throbbing wound is no joke,' said Sule testily. 'And who's
joking? I've been stabbed in my time, too. You can't go around
at night wearing a knife and not expect to get stabbed once in a
while. We should regard such things as an occupational
hazard.' 'Sure,' grunted Sule. 'But that can't cure a wound.'
'No, but the hospital can,' said Dogo. 'I know. But in the
hospital they ask questions before they cure you.'
They were entering the village. In front of them the broad path diverged into a series of tracks that twined away between
the houses. Sule paused, briefly, took one of the paths. They
walked along on silent feet, just having a look around. Not a
light showed in any of the crowded mud houses. Every little
hole of a window was shut or plugged, presumably against the
threatening storm. A peal of languid thunder rumbled over
from the east. Except for a group of goats and sheep, which
rose startled at their approach, the two had the village paths to
themselves. Every once in a while Sule would stop by a likely
house; the two would take a careful look around; he'd look
inquiringly down at his companion, who would shake his
head, and they would move on.
To be continued |
