Alamut (5 page)

And, clearing her throat, she truly did.

“So you and I could fly to heaven above.”

Her words were met with an outburst of laughter. Red with anger and shame, she got up to run to the door, but Miriam blocked her way.

Then they were all at pains to comfort and encourage her. Gradually she calmed down and wiped her tears away. Adi explained that the art of making poetry was a blossom that could only be attained with prolonged effort and that she shouldn’t despair if she failed the first time. Then he called on the girls to continue, but most of them had already run out of rhymes. On their own, Fatima and Zainab took up a kind of dialogue.

“Enough, my doves,” Adi interrupted them. “You’ve flaunted your lovely rhymes and learned maxims, you’ve disputed, gone on the attack, vied with each other and wrestled in spirit, made beautiful music with daggers flying. Now forget your quarrel and make peace. Enough learned elegance and spoken grace. Now off to the dining room with all of you.”

He bowed good-naturedly and left the classroom. The girls poured out after him and found their places for dinner.

Breakfast was waiting for them, having been laid out on the table, and this meal was served to them by three eunuchs: Hamza, Telha and Sohal. It was at this point that Halima learned that they had the services of seven eunuchs. Apart from the two teachers whom she already knew, and in addition to the three serving them at table, there were also two garden keepers, Moad and Mustafa. The kitchen was run essentially by Apama. Hamza, Telha and Sohal were simply her assistants.

These three tended the housekeeping. They cleaned, straightened, washed and maintained order throughout the house. All of the eunuchs, however, lived together with Apama in some garden separated from theirs by moats. The eunuchs had their own building there. Apama lived in a separate house.

All of these details served only to kindle Halima’s curiosity. She didn’t dare ask questions in Miriam’s presence. She could barely wait until she and Sara were alone again.

The meal struck Halima as a regular feast. A succulent wild fowl roast in an aromatic broth, a variety of vegetables, crepes and omelets, cheese, breads, and honeyed pastries with fruit inside. And to wash it all down a glass of some drink that strangely made Halima’s thoughts spin.

“That’s wine,” Sara whispered to her. “Sayyiduna allows us to have it.”

After the meal the two of them went to their bedchamber. They were alone and Halima asked, “Can Sayyiduna really permit wine if the Prophet forbids it?”

“He can. I told you he’s the first after Allah. He’s the new prophet.”

“And you say that no one but Miriam and Apama has seen Sayyiduna?”

“No one else except Adi, who is his confidant. But Adi and Apama can’t stand each other. Apama can’t stand anyone, for that matter. She was very beautiful when she was young, and now that that’s all lost she’s bitter.”

“Who is she, actually?”

“Shhh. She’s a horrible woman. She knows all the secrets of love, and Sayyiduna brought her here for us to learn from. You’ll hear about that this afternoon. They say when she was young she had lots of lovers.”

“Why on earth do we have to learn so many things?”

“That I don’t really know, but I think it’s so we can be ready for Sayyiduna.”

“Are we supposed to be in his harem?”

“Maybe. But now you tell me if you think you like me yet.”

At this Halima scowled. It made her angry that Sara asked her such nonsense when she needed to find out so many important things. She lay back on her bed, clasped her hands behind her head, and stared at the ceiling.

Sara sat down next to her and gazed fixedly at her. Suddenly she bent down over her and began kissing her passionately.

At first Halima ignored her. But eventually the kissing became bothersome and she had to push Sara away.

“I’d like to know what Sayyiduna plans to do with us,” she said.

Sara caught her breath and arranged her hair.

“So would I,” she replied. “But nobody talks about it and we’re forbidden to ask.”

“Do you think it would be possible to escape from here?”

“Are you out of your mind, asking things like that when you’ve only just arrived? If Apama could hear you! Didn’t you see the fortress at the top of the cliff? The only way out is through that. Help yourself, if you dare.”

“Whose castle is it?”

“Whose?! Everything you see around you here, including us, belongs to Sayyiduna.”

“Does Sayyiduna live in that castle?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And I don’t suppose you know what this country we’re in is called?”

“I don’t know. You ask too many questions. I doubt even Apama and Adi know. Miriam might.”

“Why just Miriam?”

“I told you that they’re close.”

“What does that mean, that they’re close?”

“That they’re like husband and wife.”

“Who told you that?”

“Shhh. We girls figured it out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t, you’ve never been in a harem.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I have, sweet thing. If you only knew. My master was sheikh Moawiya. In the beginning I was his slave. He bought me when I was twelve. Then I became his favorite, his lover. He used to sit on the edge of my bed and gaze at me, just like I’m sitting here now. He’d call me his sweet black cat. He fell in love with me. If only I could tell you what it was like. He was a magnificent man. All of his wives were jealous of me. But they couldn’t do anything about it, because he loved me best of all. Their envy and anger alone made them grow older and uglier by the day. He would take me with him on his expeditions. Then once we were attacked by an enemy tribe. Before our men could set up a defense, their bandits seized me and took me away. They sold me at the market in Basra to a buyer for Our Master. I was miserable.”

She started to cry. Thick, heavy drops fell on Halima’s cheeks and breast.

“Don’t be sad, Sara. Things are good for you here with us.”

“If I knew that you liked me even just a little, I’d feel better. My Moawiya was so handsome and loved me so much.”

“I like you, Sara,” Halima said, letting herself be kissed.

Then she started back in on the questions.

“Was Miriam in a harem too?”

“Yes, but it was different for her. She was like a queen. Two men were killed because of her.”

“Why did she come here, then?”

“Her husband’s relatives sold her to avenge her unfaithfulness to him. She had brought terrible shame on the entire family.”

“Why was she unfaithful to him?”

“You wouldn’t understand that yet, Halima. He wasn’t the right one for her.”

“He must not have loved her.”

“Oh he loved her all right. He loved her so much that it killed him.”

“How can you know that?”

“She told us about it herself when she first came here.”

“Wasn’t she here before you?”

“No. Fatima, Jada, Safiya and I were the first. Miriam came after us. At that point we were all still equals, and only Apama gave us orders.”

“So how did Miriam get to meet Sayyiduna after that?”

“That I really couldn’t say. He’s a prophet, so maybe he sees and knows everything. One day he sent for her. She didn’t tell us that, but we could sense it. Since then we stopped being equals. She started giving us orders, even opposing Apama. Her power grew and grew, and now even Apama has to obey her, and she hates her for it.”

“All of this is very strange.”

Zainab came in and sat down at her dressing table to adjust her hair and put on makeup.

“Time to go, Halima,” she said. “Apama is our next teacher, and you’d better not cross her. Be careful you don’t come running into the classroom at the last minute. Here’s some blush and black dye for your cheeks and eyebrows. And rosehip oil for perfume. Miriam gave it to me for you. Come on, get up!”

She and Sara helped get her ready. Then the three of them left for the classroom.

Apama entered, and it was all Halima could do to keep from laughing. But the look in the old woman’s eyes and the ominous silence that descended at her appearance were her warning to be careful. The girls stood up and bowed deeply.

The old woman was strangely decked out. Baggy trousers made of black silk flapped around her bony legs. Her halter was red bordered with gold and silver stitching. A small yellow turban with a long heron’s feather covered her head, and giant gold hoops encrusted with gems hung from her ears. She wore a necklace of large pearls that had been draped several times around her neck. Her wrists and ankles were adorned with artfully crafted and precious bracelets and anklets. All of this finery only served to highlight her ugliness and decrepitude. On top of it all, she had painted her lips and cheeks a flaming red and shadowed her eyes with black dye so that she truly looked like a living scarecrow. With a wave of her hand she had the girls sit down. Her eyes sought out Halima. Inaudibly she sneered, and then she began to speak in a shrill voice.

“You’ve done a good job of getting the little one dressed up. Now if we can just get her to stop staring bug-eyed at people, like some young calf that’s never seen a bull and has no idea what’s coming at her. So listen close and learn something useful. And don’t think for a minute that your companions just dropped out of the sky with what they know. Some of them rutted around harems before coming to my school, but it wasn’t until they came here that they got an inkling of how challenging an art the service of love is. In India, my homeland, instruction begins at the tenderest age. For it’s wisely said that life is short and learning deep. Do you have any idea, poor thing, what a man is? Do you know why that black abomination that brought you to our gardens yesterday isn’t a real man? Speak!”

Halima’s whole body was shaking. In desperation, her eyes sought out help from those nearby, but the other girls were all staring at the floor.

“I think your tongue has gotten caught in your throat, you hayseed,” the old woman drove at her. “All right, I’ll explain it to you.”

With a kind of wicked pleasure she began to explain the subject of men and women.

Halima was mortified and didn’t know where to look.

“Do you understand now, little one?” she asked her at last.

Halima timidly nodded, even though she hadn’t heard half of it and the half she had was still unclear.

“Almighty Allah himself has commanded me to beat this exalted wisdom into the heads of these silly geese,” she exclaimed. “Can these crickets even imagine how much skill, how much innate instinct is required if you want to fully satisfy your master and lover? Practice, practice, and more practice! Only that will bring you to your goal. Thankfully, providence has robbed you of the opportunity to shame the high art of love with your coltish lust. A man is like a sensitive harp on which a woman must play hundreds and hundreds of different melodies. If she’s clumsy and stupid, then oh, what pitiful sounds will come from it. But if she’s gifted and has learned something, then with her deft hands she’ll be able to produce harmonies on the instrument that have never been heard before. Uncultured monkeys! Your desire should be to make the instrument given to you produce more sounds than anyone ever thought were in it. And may the good spirits never punish me by making me hear some talentless strumming, squeaking and squealing.”

She proceeded to explain in detail what she referred to as her high art and learning, and Halima’s neck, ears and face flushed red with shame. Yet she couldn’t help but listen. A spine-tingling curiosity coursed through her. If it were only she and Sara, or if only it weren’t for Miriam, who was her greatest source of embarrassment, then she might have even found Apama’s descriptions entertaining. As it was, she kept her eyes cast down, for some strange reason feeling guilty and complicit.

Finally Apama finished. She left the classroom with great dignity and without saying or bowing goodbye. The girls rushed outside and went walking through the gardens in groups. Sara clung to Halima, who didn’t dare to approach Miriam.

But Miriam called her of her own accord. She put an arm around Halima’s waist and drew her down a path alongside her. Sara followed them like a shadow.

“Are you starting to get used to our way of life?” Miriam asked.

“Everything seems strange and new to me,” Halima replied.

“I hope it’s not unpleasant.”

“No, not at all. I really like it. There are just so many things I don’t understand.”

“Be patient, dear. That will come with time.”

Halima leaned her head against Miriam’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of Sara, and she had to smile. Sara’s face had a look of tormented jealousy.

People like me
, she thought, and her heart leapt.

The path led through some bushy plantings to the edge of the thunderous torrent that dashed through the rocks far below. Halima observed that the gardens must have been built on top of a cliff.

On one of the riverside rocks lizards were sunning themselves. Their backs shone like emeralds.

“Look how pretty they are,” Miriam said.

“Ugh, I can’t stand them. They’re vicious.”

“Why?”

“They attack girls.”