The noise was getting louder and louder. Masses of people, running through the narrow alleys. An atmosphere of fear and horror threw its shadow on everything. Even the land of our village seemed to express its dismay and anger: the wind blew dust, and shook trees, causing a rushing sound which filled the air, intermingling with the other noise. From time to time distinct sounds emerged: children crying, women wailing, dogs barking. The sun's rays struggled, trying to penetrate through clouds of dust. People muttered rebelliously, 'The Italians! The Italians!' An old man who was exhausted from walking leaned on his stick, trying in vain to hold back his incessant coughing, out of breath, looking at the mass of people turned into shadows by a storm of dust. His puzzled mind was mirrored in the wrinkles on his shocked face which seemed to ask,

            'What is going on?'

            A small child was running, screaming, trying to reach his mother who was holding on to her baby, dragging behind her the hem of her shabby dress which was blowing into the baby's face, blocking his spasmodic screams ¬

            'Mother! Mother!'

            A blind old lady was running behind two women crying and wailing,

            'My son Soleiman! My son Soleiman!'

            She nearly collapsed and the two women rushed to her rescue.

            They were followed by a group of men pulling donkeys loaded with all the luggage they could carry, old folks, men and women, and little children. A voice came through, much louder than the prevailing noise, crying,

            'Salima! Salima!' But Salima was speeding up, slapping her own face, crying, 'Mabrouk! Mabrouk!' A man knelt down and rose up with something in his arms which he rushed to the woman. 'Your son, Salima.' She held the baby but soon collapsed with him in her arms. A number of men rushed to carry her. Voices scattered by the blowing wind:

            'Salima, Al Mabrouk fled from the Italians... Al Mabrouk did not die, don't be frightened. This morning I handed arms to AI Mabrouk together with other fighters.'

            From the back a man was running; out of breath he cried,

            'The Italians have entered the farms and the houses.'
            An old man sitting on a donkey exclaimed loudly,
            'Did they find him?'
            'No,' was the answer.
            'Good,' he replied. Faces suffering from sleeplessness and exhaustion began to smile. Another voice was heard expressing joy at the news.

            Another wave of men rushed through from everywhere making more noise.

            'The Italians are coming after us. They are looking f()r their captain. It's over. The captain was kidnapped and killed.' An old man raised his hand shouting,

            'Their captain is not worth the bag of pepper I've lost.'

            From afar another group of men were hailing and shouting,
            'The Italians are in front of you, as well as behind you... stop, everyone!'

            They slowed down while another group of people stopped, but the echo of voices continued. You could distinguish among them the voice of the village chief, Sheikh Abdul Slam, the Quaran ReciteI' Mansour, and Sheikh Abdul Rahman. The masses halted surrounding Sheikh Abdul Salam, who was mounting his donkey in order to be heard.

            'Listen, the Italians are behind you and in front of you. We must all say that we have seen nothing, and have heard nothing.'

            From among the surrounding masses there emerged an unveiled woman carrying her baby. She managed to come nearer to Sheikh Abdul Salam.

            'Sheikh, AI-Mabrouk has not come, Al-Mabrouk might be dead.'

            Sheikh Abdul Salam put his hand on her shoulder to allay her fear.
            'Don't be afraid. He ran away from the Italians.'

            Sheikh Mansour hastily covered her head with part of his robe. Sheikh Abdul Rahman stamped his foot in frustration. A voice came from among the masses:

            'I saw AI-Mabrouk tying up the captain and dragging him behind. '

            The people of the village were certain that AI-Mabrouk was the hero of the day. The past few nights assured them of that. While people spent their night drinking tea, AI-Mabrouk was away. He appeared only in the very late hours, and always h_d someone with him, a sergeant, a soldier, or some trophy from the Italians. He often escaped death miraculously. Sheikh Abdul Salam warned him several times of the danger of these activities. He usually smiled saying:

            'Don't worry, let them go down one by one.'

            This very morning the Italians had found the captain of the occupying troops of the village missing. Al-Mabrouk was among those arrested after being pointed out by Robin. Robin was spying for the Italians. His eyes had been following Al-Mabrouk for days. What puzzled the population of the village was how Al-Mabrouk managed to disappear and join the fighters. His wife Salima did not know that he had escaped when she joined the villagers running away upon hearing of the Italian attack. Only now she was somewhat comforted after hearing what Sheikh Abdul Salam had to say. The dusty wind was hitting people's faces, in angry, loud gusts. The people who crowded to come closer to Abdul Salam added to the noise as they enquired about the dire situation, the killing and looting done by the Italians to the village. They were searching for their relatives. From behind the windy dust a group of Italians came nearer and surrounded them. The villagers retreated before the rumbling bullets. They fell to the ground. The children and women were frozen in fright and remained motionless. The soldiers approached Sheikh Abdul Salam upon a signal from Robin. They caught him. They spoke, addressing Sheikh Abdul Salam,

            'Do you know who has killed the captain?' 'Do you know Al¬   Mabrouk?' The Sheikh replied, trembling,

            'No. I don't know.'

            The Jew translated his words to the Italian in a language Abdul Salam could not understand. The Sheikh was beaten to the ground. The Jew knelt; he whispered softly:

            'Talk... they will give you money.'

            There came no answer, because Abdul Salam was unconscious.
            He was abandoned by the Italians who went searching in the village. Amid the wailing of women and the cries of children a number of men carried Abdul Salam and put him on his donkey. The sunset folded the village in its wings, surrounding it with darkness, silence and gloom only interrupted by bullets, cries of sorrow and fear, and the wind in the trees turned by the night into shadows. Hunger and exhaustion started to take their toll of this great march of the villagers. Children were becoming less tolerant and their cries were heard louder, causing anguish in the mothers' hearts. The old succumbed to weariness and sank down to rest. Hands held out anything available to the crying mouths of the children. Men lit some gas lamps while the wind howled, engulfing the moans of those who had been hit by bullets. A human figure was rushing through carrying something unidentifiable in the darkness. He had seen the light of the lamps from afar and made his way towards it. He came closer to the crowed of exhausted villagers. They were at first frightened to see this shadow coming from the night. Many of them overcame their weakness and stood looking at him. They soon recognised his face and shouted in one voice,

            'Al-Mabrouk'
            The gazing people looked in bewilderment at what he was carrying on his shoulders. A voice cried following him,

            'Has he an Italian with him?'
            'Tonight he has brought us a general.'
            Mabrouk reached the lamplight where Sheikh Abdul Salam and anumber of men stood asking,

            'Is that you, Mabrouk?'
            Mabrouk stood in front of them, out of breath:

            'Yes, it's me, and I've brought your friend, Robin!'
            They were too shocked to speak; Robin, the Italian's agent!
            Necks stretched to stare carefully. They soon shouted,
            'It is Robin'.

            Nobody asked how he could have caught him. They always had afeeling that Mabrouk was stronger than the Italians, stronger than their officers and their armies. Their surprise was interrupted by the voice of a woman carrying her newly born in her arms:

            'Mabrouk! Mabrouk!'
            Al-Mabrouk turned towards her saying, 'I am coming, Salima, I am coming.'

            The darkness turned him into a moving shadow before the eyes that followed his steps. He hurried to her, took the baby in his arms, and soon disappeared completely. Behind him he left the murmuring of the tired crowd as they began to talk about Al-Mabrouk.