The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 28: Gregorios

UMAR

  
The mountains were as strange as the desert, perhaps even more. Umar – and possibly the other soldiers as well – thought so because of a peculiar person. The man was a Christian, but no one seemed to know if he was a priest or a monk, or anything. He was just there, wandering, looking at the soldiers sometimes, but most of the time, he secluded himself and tended to just spend his time in prayers, reciting hymns in a language that Umar did not know of.
  
When the man had first appeared, Walid was the one to confront him. They had talked, and had been in conversation for about half an hour. The entire talk was Walid asking questions and the man answering them. Walid informed the rest that his name was Gregorios and that he was a wandering mystic. Umar could have sworn he saw Ali’s face light up when Walid said such.
  
It was a bit bold of Gregorios to simply just observe the Muslim soldiers, but they didn’t seem to mind. He was there, doing no harm to anyone. He was watchful though, and many were keen to suspect that he would be a spy for the Mongols. Walid had refuted that claim by saying that the Mongols do not do a good job at pretending to be Christians. He doubted that they had even met one.
  
It had been three days since Gregorios had come, and people had just accepted him as a recurring part of their daily lives. It was just as normal as sparring. You would wake up, spar, ride horses, feed Gregorios some food, do some more training, and then sleep.
  
The only time the mystic would come to them was when he would be needing food, which they gave to him.
  
‘I don’t know what madness brought him here,’ Abbas had said. ‘In a valley between huge mountains, next to a military camp. What kind of stone hit his head?’
  
‘Ah, he might be simply seeking wisdom.’ Ali replied thoughtfully.
  
‘I agree,’ Ismael chimed in. ‘I have had my fair share of experience with mystics, and this man is one. That I can say with certainty.’
  
‘He could also just be trying to sell us something.’ Umar said.
  
‘Or he could be a madman.’ Abbas repeated.
  
‘Best if we leave him alone.’ Ilyas said coldly.
  
His voice was strange to hear, most probably because Umar had gone days without hearing it. Was it becoming hoarser?
  
‘I think I might agree with Ilyas,’ Hamza said tiredly, as if he had been carrying the weight of a sheep. ‘It is none of our business what he is doing.’
  
Throughout the days, Umar had seen Ali and Ilyas coming to the mystic, though never together. He would occasionally try to listen to their conversation from a fair distance, but would eventually give up trying to do so.
  
‘Why do I care anyways?’ he said to himself.
  
But whenever he saw Ali smiling and nodding at Gregoris’s words or Ilyas talking in a hushed voice with him, he was always tempted to come to them and join in on the conversation.
  
‘Do not tell me that you want to meet him.’ Abbas said to him.
  
‘I want to know what they converse about.’ Umar replied.
  
‘Nothing too special I want to suppose. Really, I do not think you are missing out on anything.’
  
‘I want to believe that, but if someone like Ali is taking interest in his words, then one must wonder what kind of person that Christian is.’
  
‘I know Ali. Whenever he speaks, it is as if he is uttering words of a language that are spoken in the west. Gibberish, if I wish to be bold.’
  
Umar nodded at Abbas’s words. But the habit of staring at the man when he would talk to two of his comrades, or even just soldiers who had nothing better to do did not cease. He would keep on staring and staring, trying to decipher the words coming out of his mouth by looking at his lips. It was of no use.
  
At the end, he just sighed and told himself that there would, hopefully, be a time when he could get the chance to succumb to his strange desires.