The Golden Blade

NARRATOR:
It is written that once,

long ago, during Baghdad's golden reign,

a strip of desert lay in dispute

between Baghdad and Basra.

It was across this desert that

a youth from Basra, named Harun,

journeyed to join

his father's caravan,

unaware that Allah,

in his mysterious ways,

had chosen to press upon his

brow the Thumb of Destiny.

Father! Father.

By Allah's will

I depart, my son.

They'll pay for this!

No. No.

Do not give your life

for me alone,

but seek out the true maker

of these crimes on all Basra.

This... Torn from my murderer,

shall one day lead you

to vengeance.

Go now, my son,

and may Allah keep you.

I die of hunger.

I die of thirst.

I am old.

I am sick.

Poor son

of a fortunate father,

give but a little coin,

or I perish.

Oh, may the gates

of felicity open to you.

May your sons

be like lions.

No, Khairuzan, no.

I beg you, Khairuzan, leave!

Trouble follows you

like a faithful dog.

You want me to leave?

Then buy these clothes.

No!

Then I'll stay

until I'm found.

Blossom of spring,

I appeal to your justice.

These clothes are useless to

me. They are not worth one dinar.

Somebody's coming.

Go, hide. Quickly.

Welcome to the humble shop

of Barcus the Greek.

I would like to purchase some

clothing not necessarily new.

Fate has guided you properly.

I have many bargains.

Here is one, imported cloth.

The latest fashion in Baghdad.

And the price?

For you, it's merely a token.

Shall we say 10 dinars?

Something tells me

the price is too high.

Does it not tell you

the garment's value?

Yes. One dinar.

One dinar!

For clothes like these?

You're mad.

Your sign, my Greek friend,

speaks of bargains.

But not of gifts.

You shall have your 10 dinars.

Here, its equal,

20 Basranian aspers,

but for a complete outfit.

Basra coin?

Follow me.

There are some things

that just arrived from Syria.

Find what you like

and I'll make the bargain.

Khairuzan, I implore you.

No!

Approach, citizens!

Gather to hear of your plight,

of the disgrace to Baghdad!

No longer does Baghdad

reflect glory,

nor her sons breathe

defiance to the enemy.

Whilst Basra

steals our land,

the Caliph shrinks

in cowardice, refusing war.

He lies!

Oh, no. Please, don't go.

It is not Basra that attacks

nor steals from Baghdad.

What proof is there

of your tale?

Are not my words

living proof of truth?

Why does this girl

lack all discretion?

She lacks nothing else.

Such spirit must be rewarded.

Yet, whilst the Caliph

cowers in his palace...

The Caliph does not cower,

you horse thief!

It is false that he does

not think of his people.

Let us ignore this daughter

of a horsefly

that she might return

to her smelly kitchen.

Daughter of a horsefly!

Why, you misbegotten

son of a flea-bitten camel!

Dogfaced liar!

After her!

Guards!

Guards, cut the rascal down!

Kill him! Cut him down!

Cut him down!

You fool, cut him down!

Run right in through!

Guards! Guards!

Let go!

Do not be concerned.

This is not your affair.

The girl, who is she?

Forget about her.

She is not for you.

How your mouth tightens

when there's no talk of money.

You are from Basra.

What does one call you?

Well, what is your name?

I am Harun,

son of Munkar.

And your sword?

Is it from Basra, too?

No, I found it in your shop.

What? It's mine then!

It was till I bought it.

Look here, my friend, you don't

expect a sword like this...

You bought only clothes!

You, you, you, you...

It was there by mistake only.

You said to pick what I like.

Now, look here, my friend,

this is... I... Now, look.

You wouldn't go back

on your word, would you?

I? A Greek? Never.

If you insist,

I'll buy it back.

No. I like it.

A bargain's a bargain.

Many more such bargains

will return me to slavery!

Come.

Now, I know you saved my life,

but let's be reasonable.

What's so important

about this sword?

You did not notice?

Let me have it for a moment.

It didn't work now!

Could I have been wrong

about the sword?

You did not expect it

to cut heavy iron?

Here, you try it.

By Zeus! I knew I was right.

I knew it! I...

Where did you find this weapon?

Why, right here.

I see it now.

I don't understand.

The sword works for you.

It does not work for me,

nor did it for him.

It's the magic combination

of you and the sword.

I recall legends

buried in the forgotten past.

It's written somewhere.

I must search.

There's faint writing

on the blade.

Inscriptions.

Pray let me see.

Well, speak.

What do they reveal?

They appear to be

in two languages.

Both dead.

I'll find a way.

I'm the only one who can.

I have ancient records. We

may have found a magic weapon.

What glories can be ours.

What fortunes won.

By Allah!

It would be magic, indeed, that this

sword were mine at such a time as this.

Destiny has guided

us together.

I to interpret,

you to wield the blade.

Alas, good Greek,

I do not seek fortune,

but I'm here upon

a bitter quest.

Can you recognize these?

My destiny

is to seek their meaning.

They are strange to me.

If in this quest the

mysterious sword can aid me...

No, no, no.

You do not understand.

All swords are two-edged.

This one doubly so.

It worked for you,

yet it refused my effort.

Until we learn more, beware.

Doom may be our fate

as easily as success.

I must take that chance.

These legends can wait.

My mission must not,

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