Alone in the stable, Othman thanked God for His glorious gift. Equestrian equipment, more valuable than anything he had stolen before, hung from hooks on the wall; beautiful, intricately stitched leather saddles lay in order on a wooden bar. What would he take first? He filled his coat pockets with golden bridles and silver bits. He found a large sack, in which he placed two saddles and five silver reins. He mounted his horse and rode out of the stable.
“Where are you going?” asked Baybars, leaning against the side of the stable.
“I am going to wash the equipment,” Othman replied. “It is the groom’s job. I do not yet trust the servants here. I shall hire people I have used before.”
“But I cannot have you spending your own money on my equipment,” Baybars said. “I will give you ten dinars, and you can pay your cleaners with that.”
Greed forced Othman off his horse, and Baybars hit his new groom with the hilt of his sword. He dragged the rascal back into the barn by the hair. “You will learn your lesson, you lying ingrate.” Baybars tied Othman up and hung him from a pole. He noticed that the thief’s belt was a whip. “You wear this to inflict pain,” Baybars said. “Now, then, you will be pained by my righteous anger.” And Baybars whipped Othman until the groom fainted.
Othman awoke to find a multitude of eyes upon him. “Help me down, brothers,” he said, “for I suffer.” The other grooms did not move. “You,” Othman called to the youngest groom. “Come help me down. Let me rest for the night, and in the morning you can hang me up again.” The groom untied Othman and helped him down. Othman hit the boy, tied him up, and hung him in his place. All the other grooms hid. “Fools.” He climbed back on his horse and escaped.
In the morning, Baybars found the young groom hanging instead of Othman. He untied the boy and saddled al-Awwar. He called the grooms and asked if any knew where Othman lived. One said, “He lives in the Rumaillah quarter, in the Sharbeel neighborhood, next to the long well. I do not know the house. He has threatened to kill anyone who says where it is.”
Baybars rode out, and the African warriors emerged behind him. When he reached the neighborhood, Baybars asked a passerby if he knew Othman’s house, and the man ran in the other direction. A second man shouted, “Beware the evil eye,” and he, too, scurried away. A third refused to answer, and a fourth wet his pants and fainted. Baybars walked into the neighborhood bakery. He yelled at the baker, “My master Othman claims you cheated him out of a dozen loaves of bread, and unless you clear this up, he will burn your store down.”
“That is not possible,” the baker replied. “It was only yesterday that I sent a dozen loaves with the boy here.”
“You had better explain it to my master, then, because he is furious.”
The baker told the boy to go to Othman’s house and find out what happened. The boy said to Baybars, “You can ride ahead. I will walk there. It is a shame to make your horse trot at my pace.” But Baybars said, “I have a better idea. Since you like my horse so much, ride him, and we will follow you.” The baker boy could not believe his good fortune. Al-Awwar allowed him to ride, and the boy led the men to Othman’s house. He was about to knock on Othman’s door when Baybars stopped him. The boy realized he had been tricked into revealing the house, and his mind flew in panic. “I will not tell,” Baybars whispered. “Go now.” The boy raced back to the shop. Othman’s mother opened the door and asked Baybars what he wanted. He said he wanted Othman. “And who is looking for him?” she asked, and Baybars replied, “His master. He works for me. I intend to make an honest man of him, to lead him onto a path of righteousness.”
Othman’s mother glared at Baybars and said, “It is about time. I have been waiting so long. My son is in one of the caves of the imam. He is with his men, planning their revenge upon your family, I presume. Find him, and inspire him to virtue.”
“Where do I find these caves?”
“They are near the tomb of the imam, of course. Ask someone. I cannot do everything for you.”
No one would tell Baybars and his companions where the caves of the imam were. From a vendor, he bought ten watermelons and asked that they be delivered to the tomb of the imam. The vendor called an old porter with a donkey. The porter put the watermelons on the donkey’s back and began to march toward the tomb. “Where exactly is your house, sire?” the porter asked.
“I need to go to the caves. I shall pay you double if you lead me there.”
The porter trembled and shook. The donkey, his companion of many years, stopped and moved closer to his master to comfort him. “I cannot take you there,” the porter said. “My soul would be forfeit. Only thugs and murderers roam the caves.”
“If you do not take me to the caves,” Baybars said, “I will claim your life myself.”
The old man took a couple of steps and then whispered into his donkey’s ear, “My penis is bigger than yours, friend.” And the donkey laughed so hard that his knees buckled under him. His stomach reached the ground, and his braying reached the sky. “Look, master,” the porter exclaimed. “My poor donkey is in pain. He cannot go any farther. Please, I must unload him and let him rest here.” He pointed east and added, “The caves are there. You will not miss them. Let my miserable donkey rest.”
Baybars and his companions moved on, leaving the porter and his donkey behind. “He has gone, has he not?” asked Baybars, and one of his warriors, looking back, replied, “Yes, he is riding his donkey toward the city as swiftly as he can.”
There were numerous caves in the hill, and Baybars did not want to search every one of them. One of his warriors unbridled a threatening cry. “Othman, groom of Baybars the bold,” the warrior yelled, “your master demands your presence.”
Othman appeared at the mouth of a cave with eighty men backing him up. “Why did you follow me here?” he asked.
“You are my groom,” Baybars said, “and I am your master. You will either serve me or die.”
“Begone,” Othman shouted. “Leave, or I will have my men tear you into tiny pieces and cook you in unclean water over a slow-burning fire.” The warriors trotted slowly toward the brigands, and, just as slowly, the brigands began to disperse. “Stay here and fight,” Othman commanded. “We outnumber them twenty to one. They only look frightening.” And Othman unsheathed his sword and yelled, “Follow me,” and ran unfollowed toward his nemesis. “May I?” asked one of the warriors. He jumped off his horse, did not take out his sword. He waited for the running Othman and unleashed a slap like fire upon the groom’s face, knocking him to the ground. The warrior tied Othman’s hands and threw him onto the back of the stallion.
When they reached the gates of Cairo, Othman began to whimper. “Please,” he begged, “do not take me into the city with my hands tied and my head uncovered. It is not becoming.”
“You are afraid of being mocked,” Baybars said, “and I am afraid you will run away and break your promise of service.”
Othman vowed to serve his master. The African warrior untied him and offered him a headdress. They reached Cairo, and Othman said, “Please, wait. I pray at the Lady Zainab’s Shrine for good luck each time I enter the city.” And Baybars allowed him.
Othman entered the shrine, knelt on the ground, and prayed, “Dear Lady, mother of us all. I place myself in your protection. Save me from this man.” Othman felt Baybars’s hand on his shoulder. “Smite him, mother of faith. Clobber him now.”
Othman heard Baybars kneel beside him. “You followed me,” Othman whined.
“I will follow you wherever you go,” Baybars said. “My soul will leave me before I leave you.”