ABSTRACT
THE amir Muhammad, governor of Cairo, tells this tale in his book of chronicles:
During my journey in High Egypt I lodged one night in the house of a fallah, who was headman of his district. He was old and very brown, with a greying beard; but I noticed that his little children were very white with rosy cheeks, light hair, and blue eyes. When our host came to talk with us, after serving us with good cheer, I said to him: ‘How is it that you, who are so dark, have fair children, with rose and white skins, with light hair and eyes?’ The fallah drew one of his brats towards him and began to caress the boy’s hair as he answered: ‘Their mother was a Frank; I bought her as a prisoner of war in the time of Salah al-Din the Victorious, after the battle of Hittin, which freed us for ever from the Christian invaders who would have usurped the royalty of Jerusalem. That was long, long ago, in the days of my youth.’ ‘I pray you tell us the story, O sheikh,’ I said; and he replied: ‘Certainly, I will do so; for the tale of my adventure with the Christian maid is very strange.’ This is what he told us:
You must know that I am a cultivator of flax; my father and my grandfather sowed flax before me; also, by birth and stock, I am a fallah of this land. One year I was lucky enough to have a harvest of flax in such perfect condition that it was worth at least five hundred dinars. When I offered it in the market and could not find my profit, the buyers said to me: ‘Take your flax to Acre in Syria, for you can sell it there to very great advantage.’ Acting on their advice, I took all my year’s yield to the city of Acre, which at that time was occupied by the Franks, and began at once to do good business. I relinquished half of my flax to the brokers on a six months’ credit, and began to sell the rest retail with immense profit.
