“And all that happened to you?” Halima gasped. “Lucky, lucky Miriam!”
“Oh, don’t say that, Halima. It breaks my heart when I think of what happened after that. We rode all night. The moon rose from behind the hills and shone on us. I felt horrible and wonderful all at the same time, like when you listen to a fairy tale. For a long time I didn’t dare look in the face of the horseman who had me in his embrace. I only gradually relaxed and turned my eyes toward him. His gaze, like an eagle’s, was fixed on the road ahead of us. But when he turned to look at me, it became soft and warm like a deer’s. I fell in love with him so hard that I would have died for him on the spot. He was a magnificent man, my sheik Mohammed. He had a black mustache and a short, thick beard. And red lips. Oh, Halima! While we were on the road I became his wife… They chased us for three days. My stepbrothers, my husband’s son and a whole pack of armed townsmen. Later I found out that, as soon as they discovered I’d escaped, they interrogated all the servants. They discovered Mohammed’s letter, and my husband Moses had a stroke, the pain and humiliation were so great. Both families immediately took up arms, mounted their horses, and set out in pursuit. We had gotten quite a ways out into the desert when we caught sight of the band of riders on the horizon. Mohammed only had seven men with him. They called out for him to drop me so that his horse could gallop faster. But he just brushed them off. We changed horses, but even so our pursuers kept getting closer and closer. Then Mohammed called on his friends to turn their horses around and charge at our pursuers. He set me down on the ground and, saber in hand, led the seven in their charge. The groups of horsemen collided, and superior numbers prevailed. One of my half brothers was killed, but so was Mohammed. When I saw that I howled in agony and started to run. They caught me right away and bound me to the saddle, and they tied Mohammed’s dead body to the horse’s tail.”
“Horrible, horrible,” Halima moaned, covering her face in her hands.
“I can’t tell you what I felt then. My heart became hard as stone and stayed open to one passion alone—the passion for revenge. I still had no inkling of the humiliation and shame that awaited me. When we arrived back in Aleppo I found my husband dying. Still, when he saw me, his eyes came to life. At that moment he seemed like a demon to me. His son tied me to the deathbed and lashed me with a whip. I gritted my teeth and kept silent. When Moses died I felt relieved. It was as though the first part of the revenge had been fulfilled.
“I’ll only briefly describe what they did with me then. When they felt they’d tortured me enough, they took me to Basra and sold me there as a slave. That’s how I became the property of Our Master. And he promised to take revenge for me on the Jews and the Christians.”
Halima was silent a long time. In her eyes Miriam had grown to the stature of a demigod, and she felt that through their friendship she had also gained immeasurably.
Finally she asked, “Is it true that Christians and Jews eat little children?”
Miriam, still lost in her terrible memories, suddenly shook loose from them and laughed aloud.
“It’s not out of the question,” she said. “They’re heartless enough.”
“How lucky that we’re among true believers! Miriam, tell me, are you still a Christian?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Maybe a Jew then?”
“No, I’m not a Jew either.”
“Then you’re a true believer, like me!”
“Whatever you say, sweet child.”
“Does Sayyiduna like you very much?”
“I told you not to ask me questions,” she frowned at her in mock displeasure. “But since I’ve told you so much already, I’ll tell you this. It’s possible that he likes me, but what’s certain is that he needs me.”
“How does he need you? I don’t understand.”
“He’s alone and he doesn’t have anyone he can open up to.”
“Do you like him?”
“You wouldn’t understand. He’s not sheik Mohammed, but he’s definitely not Moses either. He’s a great prophet and I admire him a lot.”
“He must be very handsome.”
“Silly kitten! Are you trying to make yourself jealous by asking me these things?”
“Oh, in spite of everything, you’re so lucky, Miriam,” Halima said, the thought coming from the bottom of her heart.
“Be quiet, cricket. It’s late and you’ve got to sleep. Now go back to bed.”
She kissed her, and Halima quietly slipped into her own bed. But she was unable to fall asleep for a long, long time. In her mind she went over everything she had heard from Miriam. And she imagined the abduction and horse ride in Mohammed’s embrace so vividly that she could feel his breath and the touch of his mustache on her cheek.
She shuddered from some strange sweetness, and she was glad it was dark and no one could see her. But when, in her imagination, she saw the dead body of Mohammed tied to the horse’s tail and being dragged along, she buried her little face in her pillow and sobbed. And, crying, she fell asleep.
Once, not long after that, she came upon a scene that filled her with a strange revulsion. She was roving around the gardens and exploring the underbrush as usual, when she suddenly heard some odd whispering coming from behind a bush. Quietly she approached the place. Sara and the eunuch Mustafa were lying in the grass, doing things that Apama usually talked about in her lessons. She shuddered. She wanted to flee, but some invisible power bound her to the spot. It took her breath away, and she was unable to look away from the pair. She stayed put until they rose to leave.
She wondered if she should tell Miriam what she had seen, to avoid having to keep another secret from her. But hadn’t she already betrayed Sara once before? No, she couldn’t accuse her again. Instead she’d pretend she hadn’t seen anything. It was just an accident that she’d discovered this anyway.
And when, subsequently, she actually managed to keep quiet, she felt relieved. She was able to look Sara in the eye again. It was as though she were settling an old debt to her with her silence.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the castle, meanwhile, ibn Tahir was undergoing the greatest transformation of his life. For several days after his arrival everything kept spinning and going hazy before his eyes, as though someone had struck him on the head with a heavy club. But he quickly adapted to the new order. After a fortnight had passed, not only was he one of the best novices, but he had also become a passionate and fervent adherent of Ismaili teachings. His face also underwent a striking change. The softness and roundness of his cheeks disappeared. They collapsed, and the expression of his face became harsh and determined. He appeared to be a full ten years older than when he had arrived.
During this time he had gotten to know his companions, their superiors, and the school’s overall curriculum thoroughly.