For where there's worship, there's more trade, Baghatur added.
The next morning was ather hot day in July, and Bihar went along the road between the fields of wheat. Women were starting to work the fields again.
The children carried sheaves on their heads. Everything had to be done by hand.
In Nablus, life went with work. The food was gone, and t eugh healers yet. So Bihar was welcome to mix his herbs and alchemy because they made miracles. He passed an old farmer wearing a large Greek cross. Keev Halik? In Arabic Bihar asked the man how he was.
Forget me, the farmer waved back.
Your crops are still rotting? Bihar asked as he walked toward Jerusalem.
I had to sell my farm cheap. The farmer laughed tensely.
So did my forefathers in Sarkel, Bihar answered, with a pointed finger.
Are you a Cherkessk Mountaineer?
What difference would it make to you from where I come? Does the left side of the Sea mean more to you than the right side of it? There's eugh fish at both ends to feed the world.
Where are you going? The farmer shielded his eyes from the sun with his hands.
I'm going to Jerusalem.