BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO MEN WHEN THEY LOOK AT WOMEN

Hearing the plea and seeing the predicament of his boss. Idris commanded his fellow guards to forcefully stop the mob assaulting Ambrose Henri.

They rushed in and transferred all the anger which was meant for Jean Pierre to the mob. Kicking as well as swinging their clubs left and right while yelling at them to go back to their seats if they knew what was good for them.

Most of the men knew Idris and his comrades. Having received a few blows on their bodies, they retreated as far as possible. Leaving Ambrose Henri screaming and bleeding in pain on the floor.

Ambrose Henri's eyelids were swollen, nose and lips were bleeding profusely. His fingers were all bruised, swollen, and shaking. The well-combed brown hair was now disheveled, matted with spots of blood in some areas.

Jean Pierre felt bad to see his fellow countryman and Knight Templar brother reduced to such a state. It broke his heart, and the earlier anger as well as resentment he had reserved to lash at him when this ordeal ended. All faded away at seeing the pitiful state he was in.

Idris told his comrades to pick up Ambrose Henri gently and take him inside the inner tent for treatment of his wounds.

He saw Sayyid in the corner massaging a swollen wrist and beckoned him over. Fearfully, Sayyid rushed over.

"Yes, Idris. What can do for you?" Sayyid meekly asked.

He was quaking in his heart.

'I am the one who cast the first blow on the drunkard European man. Is he going to punish me for causing all this mess?'

'Maybe if I plead my case, he will not be strict with me, but he may not have seen me at all. By the time he and others came from inside, the fighting was already on.'

'Let me first hear what he has to say before I confess." Sayyid concluded.

"Tell everyone that we are closed for the night. Tidy up the place with your men before you leave. Can I count on you to do it?" He asked sternly without even giving him room to reject.

Sayyid knew it was not a question but a command. He meekly replied "yes" and moved away to pass along the communication. Relieved that his participation in the mob fight had not been discovered.

The patrons who were used to the belly dancing and drinking going on until late in the early morning were not happy at all. This night was not worth their money. They wanted to grumble but when they saw Idris gloomily looking at them. They quietly stood up and began moving out.

Some wanted to grumble about their balances. But could not must the courage to turn back and demand it.

The man Idris had failed to protect his boss, if they annoyed him, he could do anything to them in anger. And no one could care.

A few deniers were not worth their lives.

All the while, Jean Pierre had not let go of Darius. His leg was still stomping on the back of his neck while holding the already dislocated hand. Not until Ambrose Henri was deep inside the inner tent, and most people had moved out of the belly dancing tavern. Did he leave him, to get up before they followed Ambrose Henri.

Entering the inner tent, they found Ambrose Henri receiving treatment from one of the earlier female belly dancers. She was cleaning up his wounds and applying some herbs to them. He had stopped shaking and was trying to put on a brave face.

Two guards stood opposite him. They were there to reassure the woman treating him that no harm could come to her, but also to ensure that she did not shrink from her task. Secondly, all the ladies had heard about what had happened to Samira and the drunkard European brute responsible. Who knew what they could do to him when left alone?

The life of their boss was still in the hands of this man's friend. If anything, else happened to him, they maybe end up without a boss or jobs come sunrise.

Jean Pierre commanded Darius to have a seat. He had picked up the prized short curved jambiya knife on the way in. He held it to Darius' neck. Letting everyone know that he was still in charge of the situation. Any foul play on their part could cost them their boss's life.

"Darius, what do you have to say about what has happened tonight?" Jean Pierre asked him.

"Good gentleman, am sorry. This was all a big misunderstanding on our part. Your friend was showing his overwhelming support to queen Samira and my men overreacted." He spoke up.

Darius wanted to be done with this problem once and for all. If it meant painting this man as a saint, he could do it.

He could feel the cold tip of the jambiya pinching in his neck skin. If this man exerted just a little force, it could pierce his neck. And from experience, he knew there was no coming back from it. His earlier fear of having their weapons used against them had come true.

When he heard no response from Jean Pierre. He became nervous.

"My men were at all fault. Rest assured I will have them all adequately punished for this crime on my honored guest." He added to assuage the anger of this stranger.

The woman treating Ambrose Henri briefly grimaced at him when she heard these words from her boss. Inwardly she wanted to bark at him for betraying them, but she knew her place. Anything she said was going to spell trouble for her. The man was always right.

"I don't think that will do. Look at the state my friend is in. He narrowly missed being killed in your business by your men." Jean Pierre exerted a little force on the jambiya. Drawing a tiny drop of blood from his skin.

Darius felt the jambiya prick him, he began panicking and sweating in his robe. The small prick on his neck was not very painful. But the message it sent, made absolute fear envelop his body. He did not know what this man truly wanted.

Was it to save his friend?

Or to punish them for what they had done to his friend.

Can he be bought off?

Can I convince him to let this issue be?

What if he rejects my offers?

All these questions raced through Darius' mind without a concrete answer.

"Good gentleman. I acknowledge that I and my men are at fault. What happened was a big misunderstanding between us. What can I do to earn your forgiveness, no I mean the forgiveness of both of you?" Darius corrected himself.

Hearing this, Ambrose Henri who receiving treatment turned to Jean Pierre. "Am fine with whatever you settle upon Jean. I owe you my life."

At first, he wanted to say that he wanted to see all those who had brought him to this pitiful state punished. But he realized that they were in a foreign place. It was already lucky for them not to be killed based on the odds against them. Jean Pierre had proved himself capable of neutralizing the situation, and he now had faith that he had the wisdom to resolve it.

"It is hard to believe in your sincerity Darius knowing that you are at my mercy now." Jean Pierre said.

These Arabs were known to be, not forgiving and could hold grudges for generations. Right now, he held the stronger position so they could appease him while loathing him in their hearts.

He was sure they resented him, and could not wait for the chance to strike him and his friend down.

"Good gentleman. I mean it, you have to believe me." Darius answered in a panicked voice.

"To show you my, no I mean our sincerity. queen Samira will come over and ask for the forgiveness of your friend. She is responsible for this mess."

"Call Samira here to apologize to these men." He commanded.

This turn of events. Surprised Jean Pierre and Ambrose Henri. Since when did Samira who was doing her job of belly dancing be at fault?

Surprised, Jean Pierre had to ask. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes, good gentlemen, in Allah's name I meant every word I said." Darius nodded his head several times.

"That sounds fair enough to me," Jean Pierre spoke up before adding. "We also have to take into consideration monetary compensation towards the further treatment of my friend."

"We can not leave it out!" Darius accepted even if he did not know the real sum.

"What is taking Samira so long, call her here." He became impatient when he did not see her coming out.

She could not be happy with him. However, he did not care as long as he saved his life. She was expendable despite her overwhelming talent and beauty. With enough money, and his life intact. He was bound to get many desperate families who wanted to uplift themselves out of poverty, trading off a daughter was a small bargain for them.

"Boss, we have called her. She is coming." One of the female belly dancers assured him.

Like the female belly dancer said. It did not take long for queen Samira to appear.

Unlike her earlier appearance on stage. She entered dressing in a long black hijab that covered all her beautiful bodily curves. The face was also veiled, showing only her almond-shaped brown eyes.

She knelt on the floor before Darius and Ambrose Henri. She lowered her eyes to look at the carpeted floor. Avoiding direct eye contact, as that was to be interpreted as disrespect.

Seeing her like this. Ambrose Henri remembered the earlier emotions she aroused in him. He wanted to stand and lift her, to tell her all was well and she was not to blame. But he remembered the beating he received at the hands of the mob and banished the idea altogether. He had caused enough trouble already.

It was not right for Jean Pierre to keep on solving his mess. For he had come to his senses and realized that his earlier actions were undefendable. This day could forever be a stain on his name whether Jean Pierre reminded him or not.

"Boss Darius, misters. I am Samira a belly dancer from Damascus. Am deeply sorry for the type of dance I chose to dance this night. I did not know that it was going to cause such excitement in you to the extent of hugging me. The fault is with me. And am to blame.

Find it in your heart to forgive me, if it was not for me, this could not have happened to you." Samira said in a modest and respectful voice.

"My mother used to tell me that bad things happen to men when they look at women, I despised her for it. Thinking she was old and senile….," she paused in her speech.

"I have now known why women should cover up. Accept my sincere apologies, good mister." Samira concluded her apology. Eyes still cast on the carpeted floor.