‘The resemblance to Bulbula had alarmed me, but it was already dark when I first saw Zainab. I thought I might have been mistaken. I could not sleep properly last night. The wildest conjectures passed through my mind. Today when I saw her with her family, I was no longer confused. There was no room left for doubt. She looks exactly like her sister, except for the colour of her hair. Bulbula’s mother was a Greek and she inherited her hair, the colour of gold it was… remember?’
Halima nodded and kissed his hands.
‘Her father, may Allah forgive him, never recovered from her death. It was guilt that created the bad humours inside him. That’s what killed him. He left me all his money. I distributed it to the poor. Did he know about Zainab?’
‘No. Nobody knew till now.’
‘You should have told him. He would have been as pleased as I was to see her. It might have kept him alive. You and Zainab would have inherited a beautiful house in Noto and a small fortune.’
‘My husband would have killed me. Zainab was our only child — or so he thought — and he was so happy when she was born, even though he had prayed for a son. If only the merchant, who was not an unkind man, had allowed Bulbula to marry you, who knows what would have happened.’
‘If she had lived I would not be the man you see before you. She would have kept me close to her. I would be sitting in a library most of the day, reading, thinking, writing, but nothing more. In the life I chose I feel I have achieved something. In this village we have created an example that could spread. For a people to prosper, they must take their destiny in their own hands.’
Zainab had been waiting patiently till the Trusted One had finished speaking.
‘Umma, what happened?’
Her mother told her.
FOURTEEN
A dual pregnancy and Idrisi discovers an unusual cure for coughs and colds.
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, NEWS of the events that had taken place in a village so small that it did not yet have a name reached Palermo. The merchants who carried the information described what had taken place in great detail, as if their own eyes had witnessed the Bishop being thrown into the flames and the Trusted One standing up to declare it as revenge for Philip. Then they would talk of how the Lombards had been hung naked from the trees, their legs and uncircumcised columns swaying in the wind and how, once the skin had been eaten by large birds, their skeletons had become bleached by the sun and polished by the rain. But they had been left in place as a mute warning to all infidels.
When Idrisi inquired whether they had seen the dangling skeletons with their own eyes, the merchant would admit it had been told him by a friend who had been told by another and before long the genealogy of the storytellers was so firmly established as to overpower the facts.
It has always been thus in our world, thought Idrisi, wondering if anything had taken place at all. Most legends contain a kernel of truth so it was clear that something must have happened. The problem was that news of the Trusted One’s exploits was feeding the delirium that had gripped the city since the public burning of Philip. One of the justiciaries who had thrown Philip’s body into the pit of fire had disappeared without trace. Fifteen days ago, a judge at the trial had died a natural death, but it was claimed in the qasr that he had been poisoned. What was undeniably true was that when his coffin was being carried to the cemetery, it had been attacked by a swarm of bees that emerged from nowhere. When the pallbearers were stung, they dropped the coffin in the street and ran away screaming in search of water. Even after the bees — may Allah bless them — had disappeared, the coffin had lain unattended for some time and young boys had dared each other to go and piss on it. They took it in turns to keep guard, with the result that over a hundred boys under ten years of age had drenched the wood with their rain. When the funeral procession was resumed the discomfort of the pallbearers was evident. Their wrinkled noses made the boys who were watching from their hiding places giggle with delight. In this febrile atmosphere the Trusted One and his military campaigns were discussed endlessly in the old city, each shop-keeper vying with his competitors to retell the most bloodcurdling stories.
Idrisi was preoccupied with more intimate problems — unsurprising since he lived with them each day. Mayya and Balkis were seven and six months pregnant, their distended stomachs competing for his attention. He spent more time with Balkis than with Mayya and for a simple reason: Balkis was locked inside him. When questioned by Elinore about the apparent discrepancy in his affections, he assumed the air of a physician. ‘Your mother has had you and knows what is involved. For Balkis it is her first child and the circumstances are difficult. She needs more care.’
Elinore raised her eyes and glared at him, but no words were exchanged.
Balkis had written to her husband Aziz and informed him of her state. A special messenger had arrived within three days to deliver a letter in return. He was delighted and would leave Siracusa in a few weeks to fetch her. He pleaded with her not to exert herself too much or do anything that could threaten the child. The news came as a relief to Mayya, but cast a thick cloud of gloom around the guest chambers occupied by her sister. For most of the time the sisters displayed a stoicism that greatly impressed Idrisi. What he did not realise was that what usually brought them close to each other was his absences from the house. If he had decided on a long sea journey the sisters would have become inseparable. These days he would not leave the island.
A week or two in Shakka or Djirdjent was the farthest he travelled to meet old friends and also to continue his research on herbal cures for the medical formulary he was composing. Nor were the two women exempted from his experiments. He inspected them closely and noted how their bodies reacted to the presence of the unborn child. Mayya could no longer eat meat and her body rejected all sweet delicacies except pastries that contained only honey. Balkis became allergic to garlic and onions, but developed a huge appetite for a long, thin pastry filled with almond paste. Neither of them could bear to taste the Arabian coffee which had been a household favourite.
Once, when Idrisi had developed a cough which persisted, he tried his own cure of honey, ginger and wild thyme boiled in water and, despite the unpleasant taste, he took it thrice a day. It had always worked before, but this time the cough refused to go away. In order to avoid infecting the two women he had stayed away from them, concentrating on writing and playing chess with Elinore.
One afternoon Balkis, who missed his presence more than her sister, entered his chamber and cradled his head on her breasts. The cloth covering her was moist with her milk. He licked it and liked the taste, then lifted her dress, eager for more. That same night his cough disappeared. It could have been pure coincidence, but Idrisi linked it to the milk. Was this real or a hallucination? He decided it was real. Was it the combination of honey, herbs and human milk that had worked the cure, or the milk alone? And if it was the milk alone, could he include the prescription in his formulary? He dreaded the thought of cough-ridden Sultans, Emirs and Barons scouring their palaces and estates for women in late pregnancy. It would add another burden on the poor. On the other hand, if he did not record the cure he would be in breach of the ancient oath. He arrived at a compromise with himself. Both women were likely to be breast-feeding the infants for a year or possibly two. It was just as likely that he would develop a cough over this period. When there was a conjunction between the two events he would just drink the milk. If the cough disappeared he would have to mention the fact in the formulary, regardless of the consequences. If it did not work, then he could regard what had happened with Balkis’s milk as a chance occurrence. But clearly Balkis had other concerns on her mind. From the look on her face he knew this was to do with her husband. She stood there, arms on hips and gave him one of her fierce looks.