Chapter 6.
The Riad Al Mansour
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“I have complete confidence in him, m'lord,” responded Balderthump evenly, and prodded his horse gently to begin following the boy.
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“Hmmph,” snorted Lord Wrinklebottom again, but said no more and urged his own steed to follow Balderthump.
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They made a strange sight riding through the ancient streets of old Marrakech. Balderthump dressed in rather crumpled morning suit and bowler hat, sitting upright in the saddle, reigns held carefully in his white gloved hands; Lord Wrinklebottom somewhat slouched in his saddle, top hat almost white with the dust of the desert and coat tails flapping over the back of his saddle. The boy led them into a smaller side street, then another, then another. Each street was smaller than the last and the buildings closed in tight on each side.
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“I say, Balderthump, this is far enough!” protested Lord Wrinklebottom. “There can be nothing of any worth down a street like this. I refuse to stay in a hovel the like of these, when far more comfortable lodgings are but a short journey away.”
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“If m'lord would maintain his humour for a few more moments I'm sure we will procure adequate lodgings in the vicinity,” soothed Balderthump.
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“Hmmph!” snorted Lord Wrinklebottom again. “How can there be anything acceptable in a place like this? But if you must learn the difficult way, Balderthump, you must. When one has travelled as much as I have, one begins to develop a certain skill in these matters. With more experience, I'm sure you could develop the same skill.”
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“I'm certain I could, m'lord,” responded Balderthump calmly, but continued to follow the young boy down the narrow, dirty alleyway.
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They stopped before a non-descript brown wooden door set low into a high, roughly rendered mud wall. The boy pointed at the door and held out the other hand. Balderthump obliged with a few coins and he scampered away in delight.
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Balderthump dismounted and knocked at the door. Lord Wrinklebottom stayed mounted on his horse. “Robbers and thieves, most likely,” he muttered.
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After a short wait, the door opened, and a tall middle-aged man greeted them. He was dressed from head to toe in a vibrant blue traditional robe and headdress. A neatly trimmed slightly greying beard gave an air of refinement.
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“You must be Lord Wrinklebottom and Balderthump,” he stated quite matter-of-factly in excellent English. “You may call me Izem. Please, do come in, I have been expecting you.”
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“Thank you,” replied Balderthump.
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Izem assisted Lord Wrinklebottom to dismount from his horse and gestured for them to go inside. “I shall see to your horses and luggage.”
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Lord Wrinklebottom stooped to make his way cautiously through the door. He found himself in a narrow passageway with a short flight of steps leading down and then turning to the left. Balderthump had gone ahead. Lord Wrinklebottom followed without enthusiasm.
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“Please,” encouraged Izem from behind.
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Lord Wrinklebottom descended the steps and turned the corner.
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“I say, Balderthump!” he said as he emerged from the passageway into the courtyard beyond and surveyed his new surroundings. “This should do nicely for a few days.”
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“I'm sure it will be most comfortable, m’lord,” agreed Balderthump.
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They looked out onto a magnificent colonnaded courtyard. A fountain murmured contentedly in the centre, the water spilling from the beaks of four stone birds into the pool surrounding it. A delicate green and white tiled path led from the pool’s edge to the fountain where four couches were set beside it on a small tiled island. Exotic palms and creepers lined one edge of the pool. Brightly coloured birds flitted between the palms. Golden fish swam lazily in the crystal-clear waters of the pool.
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Ornately tiled arches surrounded the courtyard on all sides. Several plush couches and low tables were set in the shade of the arches on one side of the courtyard. On the other, a magnificently carved wooden dining table was surrounded by a dozen chairs. Above the table, brass lamps hung from the high ceiling, waiting to be lit for the evening meal. Similar lamps hung above the couches. Incense wafted from burners on stands scattered around the colonnades. Carved wooden doors at the rear of the courtyard hinted at exquisite rooms beyond.
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“I trust you now appreciate, Balderthump,” continued Lord Wrinklebottom gravely, “the wisdom of my decision to persevere in our effort to reach our destination. Think where we might have ended up if I had not urged you to diligently follow our young guide.”
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“Indeed, m’lord,” agreed Balderthump, “the alternative hardly bears thinking about”.
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“It would have been so easy to give up earlier. Persistence pays off, Balderthump! Persistence pays off.”
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“Indeed it does, m’lord. I am most grateful for your leading in this area,” replied Balderthump calmly.
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Izem coughed politely. “Allow me to show you to your rooms.”
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The gentle jangling of small brass bells signalled dinner. In the hour or so since they had arrived, Lord Wrinklebottom had been ensconced in some splendour in a first-floor bedroom with a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
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“Splendid perspective from up there, Izem,” he congratulated. “A most civilised spot for a cup of tea.”
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“I am pleased your lordship has been able to enjoy our humble lodgings,” smiled Izem.
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Balderthump, after making sure Lord Wrinklebottom was well settled with a cup of tea on his balcony, had found lodgings on the flat roof of the riad, some three floors above the courtyard. “I appreciate the coolness of the evening breeze, m’lord, and the company of the stars,” he explained.
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The meal around the large table was a rather quiet affair, with some polite but reserved conversation between the host and his guests.
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“Splendid meal Izem, splendid!” enthused Lord Wrinklebottom. “I am enjoying the food on our journey so far.”
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“We have a long tradition of looking after guests well, my lord,” replied Izem. “It is very important in our culture that guests be treated with respect and hospitality.”
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“Well, certainly no complaints so far, old boy.”
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“No indeed, excellent food,” agreed Balderthump. “I suspect our next course will be equally memorable.”
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And memorable it was. Two servants carried a very large silver platter between them and placed it at the centre of the table.
“I see now why the table needs to be so big,” laughed Lord Wrinklebottom.
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“Yes, it helps to have a little room to accommodate a good meal,” agreed Izem, and lifted the lid from the silver platter.
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On the platter lay a large mound of fragrantly spiced rice peppered with sultanas and pistachio nuts. On the bed of rice lay two very large goats' heads, skinned, but with tongues and eyes still in place and the meat tenderly cooked and falling off the bones. One faced directly towards Lord Wrinklebottom, the other towards Balderthump.
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“I say old chap, this is something special!” commented Lord Wrinklebottom with unusual relish.
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“One of my own specialities,” replied Izem humbly. “My guests invariably find it most agreeable.”
“I'm sure we shall be no different,” murmured Balderthump.
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“Of course, as honoured guests,” continued Izem, “the eyes and tongue are reserved for you. Please,” he gestured towards the goats.
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“Of course, old man, of course!” A hovering servant delicately removed the eyes and a tongue from one of the goats and placed them on Lord Wrinklebottom’s plate.
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“Some of the cheek meat too if you don't mind, old boy.”
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Izem instructed the servant who nodded and peeled a generous amount of meat from the head to fill the plate.
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“Mmmm, delicious!” complimented Lord Wrinklebottom after sampling the first of the goat meat. “So tenderly prepared.” He placed the first of the eyes in his mouth. “Quite superb, quite, quite superb!” he murmured as he chewed intently.
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“Indeed, m'lord,” agreed Balderthump. “Eye of goat is one of the more delectable delicacies I have experienced.”
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“So glad you enjoyed the meal,” said Izem after the last of the plates had been removed from the table They sat with their chairs pushed back just a little. “Let us remove ourselves to the couches for some tea.”
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“Excellent idea, old fellow. Splendid!”
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Thence followed a most engaging and interesting ceremony. A large brass teapot and silver tray were placed carefully on a low table between two couches. A small carved wooden box with brass hinges and latch was placed beside the teapot. Izem took a silver spoon, opened the wooden box and spooned out tea into the teapot. After carefully closing and latching the box, he waved his hand and the box was quickly replaced with a large silver decanter of boiling water and another empty porcelain jug. He carefully filled the teapot with hot water and sat back on his couch.
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“The timing is essential,” he explained. He pulled a small hourglass timer from a drawer in the table and placed it beside the teapot.
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“Indeed, timing is everything,” murmured Lord Wrinklebottom, fascinated.
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Once the timer had run through, Izem poured the tea from the teapot into the porcelain jug, then refilled the teapot and reset the timer. He stirred the teapot gently as it steeped. When the timer had run down once more, he rose and emptied the teapot out at the base of a small lemon tree growing next to the couch.
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“Such tea is good for plants, but not fit for a man,” he explained again.
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“Oh?” replied Lord Wrinklebottom with raised eyebrows, somewhat reticent to accept that a pot of hot tea had been wasted.
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“The second steep is considered too bitter for refined tastes, m’lord,” assured Balderthump.
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While Izem had been emptying the teapot, a servant had placed a large bunch of fresh mint on to the silver tray. Izem proceeded to stuff the teapot almost impossibly full of the mint. The heady aroma of the crushed leaves filled the air. This time the teapot was re-filled from the tea in the porcelain jug and again allowed to steep while the sand in the timer trickled through.
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“Ah, I see now,” replied Lord Wrinklebottom somewhat more satisfied.
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When the timer was finished, Izem placed three tall glasses on the silver tray. Taking the teapot filled with mint and tea, he began to pour tea into the glasses. As he poured, he lifted the teapot higher and higher creating froth in the glasses as the tea poured from quite a height.
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“Jolly good, I'm famished after all that,” said Lord Wrinklebottom reaching for the glass closest to him.
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“One moment, your lordship,” requested Izem, raising his hand. Taking the glasses, he poured them back into the teapot one by one, and then re-poured each glass, again from a great height, with wonderful skill.
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“I say, Balderthump,” observed Lord Wrinklebottom. “I'd never realised it was so complicated.”
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“Indeed, m'lord,” replied Balderthump. “Like all good tea, it takes time, but the making of Moroccan mint tea is one of the more fascinating ceremonies I have observed.”
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“Most interesting, most interesting,” agreed Lord Wrinklebottom.
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“Please, enjoy,” invited Izem gesturing towards the glasses on the table.
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“Ah, thank you my good man. A most delightful way to end a wonderful meal.”
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They sipped their tea in silence for some time before Izem observed, “It is somewhat unusual for Englishmen to come here on a mission such as yours, my lord.”
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“Oh, really?” enquired Lord Wrinklebottom quite innocently.
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“Most are content to source their labour somewhat closer to their plantations.”
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“Ah, I see what you mean,” nodded Lord Wrinklebottom.
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“M'lord has very particular requirements for those he, er, employs,” added Balderthump quickly.
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“Indeed,” replied Izem, “most commendable.” There was another silence as Izem sipped more tea from his glass.
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“Could I suggest,” he went on after some time and in a most thoughtful manner, “your lordship exercise extreme caution in your dealings in this city.”
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“Why of course, old boy, of course we will.”
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“I mean extreme caution,” repeated Izem looking directly at Lord Wrinklebottom for some time. “The life of a foreigner is not held of high value amongst some sections of our community.”
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“Oh,” mused Lord Wrinklebottom not quite sure what else to say.
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“I shall leave you to enjoy the evening,” went on Izem. “I have some urgent matters I need to attend to, but will dine with you again in the morning. I do trust you have a refreshing rest and will reflect on my advice.”
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“Thank you old boy, thank you,” replied Lord Wrinklebottom, “of course we shall.”
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