Exodus - Leon Uris [134]
“You are new here,” he said after the meeting.
“Yes.”
“I am Jossi Rabinsky.”
“Everyone knows of you.”
Jossi remained at Rosh Pinna for a week. He was certain that Suleiman would make a call but he knew the Bedouin was crafty enough not to be reckless. Jossi was in no hurry for the Arab to come, because he was greatly taken by Sarah. But in her presence he became tonguetied and shy, for he had had little or no experience with Jewish girls in his adult life. The more Sarah teased and prodded, the more he turned into a shell. Everyone in Rosh Pinna, except Jossi, knew that he was a marked man.
On the ninth day a dozen Arabs slipped into Rosh Pinna in the middle of the night and made off with several hundred pounds of grain. Jossi was standing guard and saw them coming and observed every move they made. He could easily have caught them red-handed, but it was no crime to catch a Bedouin stealing. Jossi had a different strategy in mind.
The next morning Jossi rode off once more for Suleiman’s camp. This time he was armed—with his ten-foot bull whip. He galloped into the camp at full speed and made directly for Suleiman’s tent and dismounted. The Sudanese slave came out and smiled sweetly and welcomed Jossi and invited him to enter. Jossi hit the slave with the back of his hand as though he were flicking a fly from his arm and sent him sprawling to the ground.
“Suleiman!” his big voice boomed out for the whole camp to hear. “Step outside!”
A dozen kinsmen appeared from nowhere with rifles in their hands and surprise on their faces.
“Outside!” Jossi roared again.
The old brigand took a long time to make his appearance. He stepped from the tent and put his hands on his hips and smiled menacingly. Ten feet of ground separated the two.
“Who is it who howls outside my tent like a sick goat?” Suleiman asked. The tribesmen were seized by a fit of laughter. Jossi did not take his eyes off the Arab for a second.
“It is Jossi Rabinsky who howls like a sick goat,” he said, “and says that Suleiman is a thief and a liar!”
The smile on Suleiman’s lips turned into an ugly scowl. The Bedouins tensed and waited for the signal to pounce on the Jew and devour him.
“Go on,” Jossi challenged softly, “call all your nephews. Your honor is no greater than a pig’s and I hear you have no more courage than a woman.”
No more courage than a woman! This was the deadliest insult he could hear. Jossi had issued him a personal challenge.
Suleiman raised his fist and shook it. “Your mother is the biggest whore in the world.”
“Go on, woman ... keep talking,” Jossi answered.
Suleiman’s very honor was at stake. He drew one of his silver daggers and with a bloodcurdling shriek charged at the red-bearded giant.
Jossi’s bull whip whistled out!
It wrapped around the Arab’s feet, picked him up, and sent him smashing to the earth. Jossi was at him like a cat. He brought the whip down on Suleiman’s back with such terrifying speed and strength that the snap echoed through all the hills.
“We are brothers! We are brothers!” Suleiman cried for mercy at the end of five lashes.
Jossi pointed at his frantic foe. “Suleiman, you gave me your hand in a bargain of honor and you lied. If you or your kinsmen ever again set foot in our fields I will cut your body apart with this whip and feed the pieces to the jackals.”
Jossi turned and his eyes pierced the astonished Bedouins. They were all too stunned to move. Never had they seen a man so powerful and fearless and angry. Showing utter disdain for their rifles, Jossi turned his back on them, walked to his horse, mounted, and rode off.
Suleiman never touched a Jewish field again.
The next morning when Jossi mounted up to rejoin his company at Mount Canaan, Sarah asked when he would be back. He mumbled something about getting to Rosh Pinna each month or so. As he swung onto his horse, saluted, and galloped off, Sarah thought her heart would burst apart. There was never a man like Jossi Rabinsky—Jew, Arab, Cossack, or king! She