"I see."
"If I were to find myself in the position-for example," he mused pointedly, "of wishing to marry a woman of the amir's tribe, it would be to the amir I must address my request. Whether my appeal was granted would be entirely the amir's decision."
I had suspected that this might be the way of it. Similar customs were not unknown in the royal houses of Eire, where, it was held, certain queens in ancient times had kept more than one husband.
"You see," Mahmoud continued, "each marriage forms a bond not only between husband and wife, but between the families, and between tribes, too. The bond thus created is exceedingly strong, surviving even death, and can be broken only by the most extreme acts of violence or repudiation. The law of Islam recognizes this bond and considers it both sacred and holy."
He paused, regarding me curiously. "Touching that, I have naturally assumed both husband and wife are to share a single faith in Islam."
"Naturally," I agreed.
"Otherwise," he added delicately, "the union would not be possible. By Allah, it is strictly forbidden to marry outside the faith-and, of course, to renounce Islam is unthinkable."
"I understand," I replied, and spent the rest of the day pondering how I might gain the amir's approval. I was still deep in contemplation when Kazimain brought me my evening meal. She brought me far more than that.
"You are unhappy, beloved," she said. Putting down the tray, she knelt beside it.
"I have been thinking," I replied, leaning forward to caress her cheek with my hand. She allowed me to stroke her cheek for a moment and then kissed my palm before bending to her work.
"It is said: too much thinking," she replied, pouring my drink into a silver cup, "can bring a man to distraction, and distraction to ruin."
"I truly hope not," I said, "for I have been thinking about our marriage."
"And this has made you unhappy?" She began breaking bread.
"But I am not unhappy," I insisted. "I have been speaking to Mahmoud, who tells me that I must obtain Lord Sadiq's approval to marry you."
"This is so," she affirmed, her chin jutting in agreement. "You must go to the amir and beg on your knees if you wish to marry me."
"I will crawl over burning coals for you, Kazimain," I replied, "if it will secure the amir's approval."
"He will surely give it," she said, smiling.
"I wish I could be certain."
"Has not Lord Sadiq said that you are a guest in his house?" she said. "Hospitality decrees that the requests of a guest cannot be refused. Anything you ask will be granted."
"Anything?" I wondered. Could the claims of hospitality be made to stretch so far?
"Anyway," she continued, "it is not as if I were a woman of no account who must depend upon my kinsman for a bride gift. My father was a wealthy man-"
"So you have said."
"-a wealthy and far-thinking man who provided handsomely for his daughter. I own lands and riches in my own right, and they are mine to do with as I will." She smiled with sweet defiance. "The man who marries me will gain far more than a wife."
"Kazimain, marry me," I said, seizing her hand and kissing her palm.
"I have already said that Allah wills it." Her tone was primly impassive.
"I have nothing to give you," I warned lightly.
"Give me but yourself," she said, "and I will be satisfied." She made to rise. "And now I must go."
"So soon? But-"
"Hush," she whispered, placing her fingertips to my lips. "We must not be found out now. If anyone were to suspect, they might hinder us." She rose and hastened to the door, glanced out into the corridor, and then looked back at me. "I will come to you tonight…" She paused teasingly then added, "in your dreams." She kissed her fingertips and raised her hand to me, then disappeared into the corridor.
I ate my meal alone and watched the evening sky deepen to dusk, listening to the muezzin's chanting call to evening prayer. This day, I thought, had gone very well. I had risen early with the firm intention of ending our proposed union, and now I sought it more ardently than ever.
I did love Kazimain, I swear it. But it was not love for her that wakened or nurtured my desire. Christ have mercy, even as she stood offering me the gift of herself, I saw but a way to fulfill the promise I had made to my friends. Revenge was all that mattered to me. Poor Kazimain was merely a convenient means by which this vengeance might be achieved. This, and no kindly regard for that beautiful, trusting soul, is what kindled my passion. I do freely confess this so that all may know what manner of man I had become.
Of my priestly vows, I had no qualm whatsoever. God had forsaken me, and I him. That part of my life was over; insofar as I was concerned, it was God, not me, who had died in Byzantium. So be it.
The next day I prepared for the amir's return, practising what I would say to him. Kazimain and I saw each other only once, and that briefly. She said that to avoid suspicion, she had arranged for another to bring my evening meal. We parted then, and I spent a restless night turning the matter over and over in my mind.
Lord Sadiq returned as expected at midday, and his arrival threw the entire household into a flurry of excitement. I kept myself out of sight, watching the activity from the roof garden, which had become my haunt as no one else seemed ever to go there. The horses of his bodyguard clattered into the street, clearing the way. Two of the rafiq dismounted and went inside to announce their lord's arrival, while the others ranged themselves outside. Meanwhile, servants, slaves, wives, and children hastened out into the street to bid him welcome. They shouted greetings and waved squares of coloured cloth as he rode into view.
Even from my rooftop roost I could tell that the amir was in no gentle mood. Without a word he threw himself from the saddle, bowed stiffly to his wives, and then strode rapidly into the house. This, I thought, boded ill for my plans. True, I did not know what was on his mind to upset him so, but in all likelihood my request would not be greeted with delight.
Still, I did not see any other course open to me. I could wait until the amir was in a better mood, but depending on what was troubling him, I might wait in vain. In the meantime, my position as a guest in his house could change at any moment. Regardless of the outcome, my best chance was to act now.
I prepared myself for the encounter. When I heard footsteps rushing up the stairs to the roof, I knew that the moment had come.
"Lord Sadiq demands your presence," said the servant who had been sent to fetch me. "You are to come at once."
I inclined my head in submission to the request. "I am ready," I told him. "You may lead me to him."
The servant bridled at this. Was I not a slave, like him? But I had schooled my manner well. No more would I behave as a slave. Mine would be the imperious demeanour of the amir himself.
Nevertheless, as the doors were flung open to his reception room and I glimpsed the amir sitting on his great chair, his face contorted by a vicious scowl, my new-found resolve deserted me. Faysal stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest, the frown on his face matching that of his lord's. I gulped down a deep breath, gritted my teeth and forced my feet to shuffle ahead. The servant saw my dismay and smiled in derision. This angered me, and I plucked up my flagging courage and strode into the glaring amir's receiving room as if I were the Holy Roman Emperor himself.