Immediately after the evening prayers we all went our own ways, hoping that everything would turn out as we had planned. However, the death of Fayha" s aunt early on Friday morning prevented that from happening. The funeral and burial took up a lot of time, but beyond all that the flood of people expressing their condolences, both during the ceremonies and after, kept us preoccupied for the whole day. The task of looking after all the visitors fell to Hamada and Bilal, ably assisted by our neighbors. My wife was extremely upset, but was surrounded by clusters of women offering her their condolences. For my part, I and her uncle, Hajj Hamza al-Sarraj, welcomed mourners singly and in groups. Among them were my quartet of students, many other students, and a group of grandees from Sabta, led by their governor, Ibn Khalas, who only stayed for a short while.
Before the governor left, he leaned over in my direction. "Saint of God," he said affectionately, "you have been depriving me of your company. I only have the very highest regard and affection for you. Next Friday afternoon, can I send someone to bring you to my residence?" I told him that I would come and wished him farewell.
Once the crowd of people had finally departed, I spoke to my wife for a while, then hurried to my closet. I moved the bed to the center of the room and turned it over to check things. Out crawled a vicious cat; it may well have been responsible for there being no traces of any poisonous insects. I did one or two usual chores, then looked forward to a bit of peace and quiet, but no sooner had night descended than I heard intermittent sounds of a woman moaning that made it impossible for me to get to sleep. I summoned `Abla and Hamada to ask them what the problem was, and they both told me that it was Hafsa, who was upset because Fayha" s aunt had died. However, `Abla surprised me by suggesting another cause.
"Ever since Hafsa heard that I was getting married," she told me, "she's gone crazy. She stays in bed all the time. She doesn't eat or drink anything and spends all her time weeping and moaning. Like you, Sir, my mistress, Fayha', thinks that she is mourning her aunt's illness and death, but the truth of the matter is what I have just told you."
I rubbed my hands together in despair and sought refuge in God Almighty.
"You, Sir, are the only one who can deal with her," said Hamada, his soft voice conveying considerable distress. "You know the things that can possess people's hearts and how to handle them."
I told 'Abla and Hamada not to talk about the matter until I had been able to look into things for myself and reach a decision. With that I allowed them both to leave.
Next morning after a very poor night's sleep I called my wife in and asked for her advice about Hafsa. From her response I gathered that she had been unable to stop Hafsa from weeping over the death of her aunt; in her opinion, the only cure lay in patience and endurance. I found it difficult to confront her with the truth of the matter, so I decided to let things go their own way while I waited for some God-inspired solution.
Later that day I and my companions accompanied our bridegroom, Khalid, to the neighborhood baths so we could make sure he was cleansed and prepared for the wedding night. Everything went according to plan in the stimulating, hot atmosphere, it being a place that had yet to be spoiled by too many bathers. Even so, the masseur who rubbed my feet had some nasty things to tell me about Sufi philosopher-types coming over from Spain and even mentioned me by name as one of their leaders and operators in Sabta. He proceeded to tell us how dangerous such people were and to be on the alert for them. Khalid rounded on him: "The person you've just referred to, you bumbling imbecile," he yelled, "is the one whose feet you're washing at this very moment. He is indeed our teacher and leader." With that the man leapt to his feet in amazement and hurried for the exit. My companions wanted to chase after him and teach him a good lesson, but I stopped them and told them not to even think of it.
On Monday night Abla made her way to the newly married couple's house, accompanied by her belongings and a set of gifts that my wife wanted to be both precious and light. It was very hard to see the bride leave, and even harder the following day when we all said our farewells to 'Abla and her husband, including the trio of his companions and the group of other students. There were powerful emotions, red eyes, and tears, along with promises to meet again whenever God permitted. While Khalid was preparing a mule and putting his new wife on it, he surprised me by saying that he had sent a copy of my letter to the king of the Christians with someone he trusted to the Marinid* amir `Abd al-Haqq and asked him to be in touch with me about it. At the time I paid no attention to the matter, or rather I had no opportunity to look into it because the young man had already mounted his horse. He was holding on to the mule's rein and seemed eager to catch up with the caravan in the eastern part of Sabta. As he and his wife left, they took with them our fond farewells and best wishes.
When I got back to the house just before noon, I found Fayha' clearly distressed. She told me that Hafsa's health was very bad and went on to suggest that the real cause had nothing to do with her aunt's death. I comforted her by saying that things would soon return to normal. She told me that she had hired two middle-aged women to help run the house, and I told her to go and take care of her guests.
I remained in my closet, wondering how I could solve this problem of Hafsa so that the situation would improve. My hope was that she would get over her distress and return to a state of normalcy. I looked in my bed and various parts of the room for scorpions or poisonous insects, but was relieved not to find any traces of them. I now performed some menial tasks before praying and then eating lunch. Following that, I took a nap in the hope of recovering some of my peace of mind and clearing my brain, but to no avail.
Only a few moments passed before once again I heard the woman moaning and crying, loud enough that it sounded like screams. I made my way stealthily to her room and closed the door behind me. The combination of closed space and sunshine made the atmosphere damp and fetid. The woman paid no attention to the fact that I had come in; she may not even have noticed. Her lanky body was laid out on the bed, and she looked very frail and emaciated. Her face was pallid and sickly, and her eyes were glazed as they stared vacantly at the ceiling. She kept sighing, but even so she seemed in a permanent stupor. I sat down on the bed beside her and touched her left hand with a view to feeling her pulse. With that she opened her eyes with a start, and let out a piercing screech. I seized the opportunity to beseech her to take some pity on herself and give herself back to God with a humble and willing heart. For my part I promised that I would apply all my knowledge of medicine and law to restore her to health and common sense. Instead she turned toward me and fixed me with a vicious stare.
"You claim to be able to cure me," she said, "when you are the cause of my disease?"
I asked her to explain.
"You've been digging my grave ever since you arrived at this house," she told me. "You've completely ruined my relationship with my mistress, and you've turned `Abla away from me. As you have come to realize, `Abla is my entire life and spirit. Here you are, wanting to make me better, when you're the one who's brought this calamity on me!"