The Greatest Salesman in the World Read online

  Tomorrow, he knew, would be a better day although now he understood why the others always bypassed this unprosperous village. They had said that no sales could be made here and he had recalled their words every time someone had refused to buy his robe. Yet, Pathros had sold hundreds of robes here many years ago. Perhaps times had been different then and, after all, Pathros was a great salesman.

  A flickering light from the cave caused him to hasten his steps for fear that a thief was within. He rushed through the opening in the limestone ready to overcome the criminal and recover his possessions. Instead, the tenseness immediately left his body at the sight that confronted him.

  A small candle, forced between a cleft in the cave wall, shone faintly on a bearded man and a young woman huddled closely together. At their feet, in a hollowed-out stone that usually held cattle fodder, slept an infant. Hafid knew little of such things but he sensed that the baby was newborn from the child’s wrinkled and crimson skin. To protect the sleeping infant from the cold, both the man’s and the woman’s cloaks covered all but the small head.

  The man nodded in Hafid’s direction while the woman moved closer to the child. No one spoke. Then the woman trembled and Hafid saw that her thin garment offered little protection against the dampness of the cave. Hafid looked again at the infant. He watched, fascinated, as the small mouth opened and closed, almost in a smile, and a strange sensation passed through him. For some unknown reason he thought of Lisha. The woman trembled again from the cold and her sudden movement returned Hafid from his daydreaming.

  After painful moments of indecision the would-be seller of goods walked to his animal. He carefully untied the knots, opened his pack, and withdrew the robe. He unrolled it and rubbed his hands over the material. The red dye glowed in the candlelight and he could see the mark of Pathros and the mark of Tola on its underside. The circle in the square and the star. How many times had he held this robe in his tired arms in the past three days? It seemed as if he knew every weave and fiber of it. This was indeed a robe of quality. With care it would last a lifetime.

  Hafid closed his eyes and sighed. Then he walked swiftly toward the small family, knelt on the straw beside the infant, and gently removed first the father’s tattered cloak and then the mother’s from the manger. He handed each back to its owner. Both were too shocked at Hafid’s boldness to react. Then Hafid opened his precious red robe and wrapped it gently around the sleeping child.

  Moisture from the young mother’s kiss was still on Hafid’s cheek as he led his animal out of the cave. Directly above him was the brightest star Hafid had ever seen. He stared up at it until his eyes filled with tears and then he headed his animal through the path that led toward the main road back to Jerusalem and the caravan on the mountain.

  Chapter

  Five

  Hafid rode slowly, his head bowed so that he no longer noticed the star spreading its path of light before him. Why had he committed such a foolish act? He knew not those people in the cave. Why had he not attempted to sell the robe to them? What would he tell Pathros? And the others? They would roll on the ground with laughter when they learned he had given away a robe with which he had been charged. And to a strange baby in a cave. He searched his mind for a tale that would deceive Pathros. Perhaps he could say that the robe had been stolen from his animal while he was in the dining hall. Would Pathros believe such a tale? After all, there were many bandits in the land. And should Pathros believe him would he not then be condemned for carelessness?

  All too soon he reached the path that led through the Garden of Gethsemane. He dismounted and walked wearily ahead of the mule until he arrived at the caravan. The light from above made it seem as daylight and the confrontation he had been dreading was quickly upon him as he saw Pathros, outside his tent, staring into the heavens. Hafid remained motionless but the old man noticed him almost immediately.

  There was awe in the voice of Pathros as he approached the youth and asked, “Have you come directly from Bethlehem?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Are you not alarmed that a star should follow you?”

  “I had not noticed, sire.”

  “Had not noticed? I have been unable to move from this spot since I first saw that star rise over Bethlehem nearly two hours ago. Never have I seen one with more color and brightness. Then as I watched, it began to move in the heavens and approach our caravan. Now that it is directly overhead, you appear, and by the gods, it moves no more.”

  Pathros approached Hafid and studied the youth’s face closely as he asked, “Did you participate in some extraordinary event while in Bethlehem?”

  “No, sire.”

  The old man frowned as if deep in thought. “I have never known a night or an experience such as this.”

  Hafid flinched. “This night I shall never forget either, master.”

  “Oh, ho, then something did indeed happen this evening. How is it that thou returneth at such a late hour?”

  Hafid was silent as the old man turned and prodded at the pack on Hafid’s mule. “It is empty! Success at last. Come into my tent and tell me of your experiences. Since the gods have turned night into day I cannot sleep and perhaps your words will furnish some clue as to why a star should follow a camel boy.”

  Pathros reclined on his cot and listened with closed eyes to Hafid’s long tale of endless refusals, rebuffs, and insults which had been encountered in Bethlehem. Occasionally he would nod as when Hafid described the pottery merchant who had thrown him bodily from his shop and he smiled when told of the Roman soldier who had flung the robe back in Hafid’s face when the young seller had refused to reduce his price.

  Finally Hafid, his voice hoarse and muffled, was describing all the doubts that had beset him in the inn this very evening. Pathros interrupted him, “Hafid, as well as you can recall, relate to me every doubt that passed through your mind as you sat feeling sorry for yourself.”

  When Hafid had named them all to the best of his recollection, the old man asked, “Now, what thought finally entered your mind which drove away the doubts and gave you new courage to decide to try again to sell the robe on the morrow?”

  Hafid considered his reply for a moment and then said, “I thought only of the daughter of Calneh. Even in that foul inn I knew that I could never face her again if I failed.” Then Hafid’s voice broke, “But I failed her, anyway.”

  “You failed? I do not understand. The robe did not return with thee.”

  In a voice so low that Pathros found it necessary to lean forward in order to hear, Hafid related the incident of the cave, the infant, and the robe. As the youth spoke, Pathros glanced again and again at the open tent flap and the brightness beyond which still illuminated the camp grounds. A smile began to form on his puzzled face and he did not notice that the lad had ceased with his story and was now sobbing.

  Soon the sobs subsided and there was only silence in the great tent. Hafid dared not look up at his master. He had failed and proven that he was ill-equipped to be anything more than a camel boy. He fought back the urge to leap up and run from the tent. Then he felt the great salesman’s hand on his shoulder and forced himself to look into the eyes of Pathros.

  “My son, this trip has not been of much profit to you.”

  “No, sire.”

  “But to me it has. The star which followed you has cured me of a blindness that I am reluctant to admit. I will explain this matter to you only after we return to Palmyra. Now I make a request of thee.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Our sellers will begin returning to the caravan before sundown tomorrow and their animals will need your care. Are you willing to return to your duties as camel boy for the present?”

  Hafid rose resignedly and bowed toward his benefactor. “Whatever you ask of me, that I will do … and I am sorry that I have failed you.”

  “Go then, and prepare for the return of our men and we shall meet agai
n when we are in Palmyra.”

  As Hafid stepped through the tent opening, bright light from above momentarily blinded him. He rubbed his eyes and heard Pathros call from inside the tent.

  The youth turned and stepped back inside, waiting for the old man to speak. Pathros pointed toward him and said, “Sleep in peace for you have not failed.”

  The bright star remained above throughout the night.

  Chapter

  Six

  Nearly a fortnight after the caravan had returned to its headquarters in Palmyra, Hafid was awakened from his straw cot in the stable, and summoned to appear before Pathros.

  He hastened to the bed chamber of the master and stood uncertainly before the huge bed which dwarfed its occupant. Pathros opened his eyes and struggled with his coverings until he was sitting upright. His face was gaunt and blood vessels bulged in his hands. It was difficult for Hafid to believe that this was the same man with whom he had spoken only twelve days ago.

  Pathros motioned toward the lower half of the bed and the youth sat carefully on its edge, waiting for the old man to speak. Even Pathros’ voice was different in sound and pitch from their last meeting.

  “My son, ye have had many days to reconsider your ambitions. Is it still within thee to become a great salesman?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  The ancient head nodded. “So be it. I had planned to spend much time with you but as you can see there are other plans for me. Although I consider myself a good salesman I am unable to sell death on departing from my door. He has been waiting for days like a hungry dog at our kitchen door. Like the dog, he knows that eventually the door will be left unguarded.…”

  Coughing interrupted Pathros and Hafid sat motionless as the old man gasped for air. Finally the coughs ceased and Pathros smiled weakly, “Our time together is brief so let us begin. First, remove the small cedar chest which is beneath this bed.”

  Hafid knelt and pulled out a small leatherstrapped box. He placed it below the contour made by Pathros’ legs on the bed. The old man cleared his throat, “Many years ago when I possessed less status than even a camel boy, I was privileged to rescue a traveler from the East who had been set upon by two bandits. He insisted that I had saved his life and wished to reward me although I sought none. Since I had neither a family nor funds he enjoined me to return with him to his home and kin where I was accepted as one of his own.

  “One day, after I had grown accustomed to my new life, he introduced me to this chest. Inside were ten leather scrolls, each one numbered. The first contained the secret of learning. The others contained all the secrets and principles necessary to become a great success in the art of selling. For the next year I was tutored each day on the wise words of the scrolls and with the secret of learning from the first scroll I eventually memorized every word on every scroll until they had become a part of my thinking and my life. They became habit.

  “At last I was presented with the chest containing all ten scrolls, a sealed letter, and a purse containing fifty gold pieces. The sealed letter was not to be opened until my adopted home was out of sight. I bade the family farewell and waited until I had reached the trade route to Palmyra before opening the letter. The contents commanded me to take the gold pieces, apply what I had learned from the scrolls, and begin a new life. The letter further commanded me to always share half of whatever wealth I would acquire with others less fortunate, but the leather scrolls were neither to be given nor shared with anyone until the day when I would be given a special sign that would tell me who was next chosen to receive these scrolls.”

  Hafid shook his head, “I do not understand, sire.”

  “I will explain. I have remained on watch for this person with a sign for many years and while I watched I applied what I learned from the scrolls to amass a great fortune. I had almost come to believe that no such person would ever appear before my death until you returned from your trip to Bethlehem. My first inkling that you were the chosen one to receive the scrolls came upon me when you appeared under the bright star that had followed you from Bethlehem. In my heart I have tried to comprehend the meaning of this event but I am resigned not to challenge the actions of the gods. Then when you told me of giving up the robe, which meant so much to you, something within my heart spoke and told me that my long search was ended. I had finally found he who was ordained to next receive the chest. Strangely, as soon as I knew I had found the right one, my life’s energy began to slowly drain away. Now I am near the end but my long search is over and I can depart from this world in peace.”

  The old man’s voice grew faint but he clenched his bony fists and leaned closer to Hafid. “Listen closely, my son, for I will have no strength to repeat these words.”

  Hafid’s eyes were moist as he moved nearer to his master. Their hands touched and the great salesman inhaled with effort. “I now pass on this chest and its valuable contents to thee but first there are certain conditions to which you must agree. In the chest is a purse with one hundred gold talents. This will enable you to live and purchase a small supply of rugs with which you can enter the business world. I could bestow on you great wealth but this would do you a terrible disservice. Far better is it that you become the world’s wealthiest and greatest salesman on your own. You see, I have not forgotten your goal.

  “Depart from this city immediately and go to Damascus. There you will find unlimited opportunities to apply what the scrolls will teach. After you have secured lodging you will open only the scroll marked One. You are to read this over and over until you understand fully the secret method which it relates and which you will use in learning the principles of selling success contained on all the other scrolls. As you learn from each scroll you can begin to sell the rugs you have purchased, and if you combine what you learn with the experience you acquire, and continue to study each scroll as instructed, your sales will grow in number each day. My first condition then is that you must swear under oath that you will follow the instructions contained in the scroll marked One. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Good, good … and when you apply the principles of the scrolls you will become far wealthier than you have ever dreamed. My second condition is that you must constantly dispose of half your earnings to those less fortunate than you. There must be no deviation from this condition. Will you agree?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “And now the most important condition of all. You are forbidden to share the scrolls or the wisdom they contain with anyone. One day there will appear a person who will transmit to you a sign just as the star and your unselfish actions were the sign I sought. When this happens you will recognize this sign even though the person transmitting it may be ignorant that he is the chosen person. When your heart assures you that you are correct you will pass over to him, or her, the chest and its contents and when this is done there need be no conditions imposed on the receiver such as were imposed on me and which I now impose on you. The letter which I received so long ago commanded that the third to receive the scrolls could share their message with the world if he so desires. Will you promise to carry out this third condition?”

  “I will.”

  Pathros sighed in relief as if a heavy weight had been removed from his body. He smiled weakly and cupped Hafid’s face in his bony hands. “Take the chest and depart. I will see thee no more. Go with my love and with my wishes for success and may your Lisha eventually share all the happiness your future will bring you.”

  Tears unashamedly rolled down Hafid’s cheeks as he took the chest and carried it through the open bedroom door. He paused outside, placed the chest on the floor, and turned back toward his master, “Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough?”

  The old man smiled faintly and nodded. He raised his hand in farewell.

  Chapter

  Seven

  Hafid, with his animal, entered the walled city of Damascus thro
ugh the East gate. He rode along the street called Straight with doubts and trepidations and the noise and shoutings from hundreds of bazaars did little to ease his fear. It was one thing to arrive in a large city with a powerful trade caravan such as that of Pathros; it was another to be unprotected and alone. Street merchants rushed at him from all sides holding up merchandise, each screaming louder than the next. He passed cell-like shops and bazaars displaying craftsmanship of coppersmiths, silversmiths, saddlers, weavers, carpenters; and each step of his mule brought him face to face with another vender, hands outstretched, wailing words of self-pity.

  Directly ahead of him, beyond the western wall of the city, rose Mt. Hermon. Although the season was summer, its top was still capped with white and it seemed to look down on the cacophony of the market place with tolerance and forbearance. Eventually Hafid turned off the famous street and inquired about lodging which he had no difficulty finding in an inn called Moscha. His room was clean and he paid his rent for a month in advance which immediately established his standing with Antonine, the owner. Then he stabled his animal behind the inn, bathed himself in the waters of the Barada and returned to his room.

  He placed the small cedar chest at the foot of his cot and proceeded to unroll the leather strappings. The cover opened easily and he gazed down at the leather scrolls. Finally he reached inside and touched the leather. It gave under his fingers as if it were alive and he hurriedly withdrew his hand. He arose and stepped toward the latticed window through which sounds poured from the noisy market place nearly half a mile distant. Fear and doubt returned again as he looked in the direction of the muffled voices and he felt his confidence waning. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall, and cried aloud, “How foolish I am to dream that I, a mere camel boy, will one day be acclaimed as the greatest salesman in the world when I have not even the courage to ride through the stalls of the hawkers in the street. Today mine eyes have witnessed hundreds of salesmen, all far better equipped for their profession than I. All had boldness, enthusiasm, and persistence. All seemed equipped to survive in the jungle of the market. How stupid and presumptuous to think I can compete with and surpass them. Pathros, my Pathros, I fear that I will fail you again.”