Rashid wept. He bought flour, baked until his arms ached, and fed the Sultan’s men. The Sultan rewarded him with a lifetime contract to supply the palace kitchens. Within a month, his shop overflowed with bread, and his children laughed again.
At dawn, a royal messenger banged on his door. “The Sultan’s caravan was robbed last night. Twenty guards are wounded, hungry, and hiding in the hills. The Vizier knows you bake the most honest bread in the quarter. Can you feed them by noon?” al mughni
But as he turned back inside, he knocked the clay jar off the shelf. It shattered. Water spilled across the floor—and beneath it, where the jar had stood for years, was a loose stone. He pried it open. Rashid wept