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‘Salaam, Gumushtagin. What brings you to the harem?’

‘One of the few advantages of being a eunuch: I have free access to Nur ad-Din’s apartments.’ Gumushtagin gave Yusuf a hard look. ‘But you are not a eunuch.’

‘I am here to visit Asimat.’

‘You spend a great deal of time with Nur ad-Din’s wife.’

‘At his bidding.’

Gumushtagin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, of course. Ma’a as-salaama, Yusuf.’ Gumushtagin gave a small bow and stepped past him.

‘Allah yasalmak,’ Yusuf replied to the retreating figure, then turned and waited while one of the eunuch guards entered Asimat’s chamber and announced him.

‘You may enter,’ the guard told Yusuf.

Yusuf stepped into the room to find Asimat seated in one of the windows, half a melon in one hand and a spoon in the other. She was wearing a simple, white cotton caftan. One of her maidservants sat on a cushion at her feet, reading from a book. The servant stopped reading when Yusuf entered.

‘My lady,’ Yusuf said and bowed.

Asimat whispered something to the servant and then rose. ‘Salaam, Yusuf,’ she said. ‘Come, sit.’ She gestured towards the centre of the room, where silk cushions sat on the thick carpet. Yusuf waited for her to sit and then sat across from her. The maidservant closed the book and went to the loom.

‘Would you like some refreshment?’ Asimat asked, holding up the melon in her hand. Yusuf nodded. ‘Kaniz!’ Asimat called, and a moment later a female servant appeared carrying half a melon. She handed it and a spoon to Yusuf. The pulp of the melon had been mashed and mixed with crushed ice. Yusuf spooned out some of the mixture, which trailed wisps of cold air.

‘Ice in the summer; how is it possible?’ he asked.

‘In winter it is brought from the mountains near Baalbek and stored under straw in a cellar beneath the palace. It is a rare luxury.’

Yusuf swallowed the spoonful of chilled melon and closed his eyes to savour the cool sweetness. ‘Delicious.’

‘I am glad you enjoy it, and I am glad that you have returned to Aleppo alive, if only so that I could see you again.’

The woman at the loom stopped her work and looked over. Yusuf paled. ‘Careful what you say, Khatun.’ There was an awkward moment of silence, during which Yusuf fingered his golden belt. ‘You have been well since I last saw you?’ he finally asked.

‘Better. You were right: tears will not help me. If I wish to have a son, I must take my future in my own hands.’ She met Yusuf’s eyes and did not look away.

Yusuf cleared his throat and glanced towards the loom. ‘I am sure that Nur ad-Din will be happy to hear that you are eager to try again.’

Asimat frowned. ‘He has taken yet another favourite, who he hopes will give him an heir. I fear I will never have a son by him.’

‘But you said-’

‘It is best not to speak of it,’ Asimat said, cutting him off.

‘What shall we talk of, then?’

‘I hear that you fought bravely at the battle at Jacob’s Ford. Tell me about it.’

‘It was glorious,’ Yusuf said with a grin. He went on to describe the battle in detail, gesturing with his hands to indicate the position of the two armies. Asimat followed him closely, nodding with interest. ‘We crushed them,’ Yusuf concluded. ‘Hundreds of Franks were killed and thousands more taken prisoner. Their king was lucky to escape.’

Asimat’s forehead creased. ‘And after all that, you let them go? You did not pursue them?’

‘We could not. The Roman Emperor was leading an army from the north. We had to make peace.’

‘I see. And did it strike you as strange that Nur ad-Din did not learn that the emperor was on the march until just after he defeated the Franks?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘An army as large as the emperor’s would be hard to conceal.’ Asimat lowered her voice. ‘Sometimes I think that Nur ad-Din does not wish to conquer the Christians.’

‘That is mad!’ Yusuf spluttered. ‘He speaks of nothing but driving them from our lands.’

‘Yes, and the emirs and sheikhs follow him because of this. The people gladly pay their taxes to support his wars. But with the Franks gone, there will be nothing left to unite our people. I think Nur ad-Din fears that if he defeats the Franks, then he will lose his kingdom.’

Yusuf’s forehead creased. He had never even considered such things. ‘Nur ad-Din will crush the Franks,’ he insisted. ‘Usama is making peace with the Roman Emperor now. We will have no more to fear from him. Then, once King Baldwin is dead, we will strike again.’

‘Perhaps you are right. But if Nur ad-Din does not move against them?’

‘Then someone will.’

‘You?’

Yusuf shook his head. ‘I am only the Emir of Tell Bashir.’

‘Yes, but your ambition burns bright, Yusuf.’ He opened his mouth to speak, but Asimat held up a hand, stopping him. ‘Do not deny it. I have seen the same flame burning in Nur ad-Din. But if you want to be great, then you must seize your destiny.’

‘Be careful what you say, Khatun,’ Yusuf said stiffly. ‘I am a man of honour, and Nur ad-Din is my lord.’

‘Nur ad-Din had a lord once, too.’ Asimat glanced towards her maidservants and then continued in a whisper. ‘His father, Zengi, was found murdered in his own bed.’ Again, her dark eyes found his. ‘Sometimes you must seize what you want, Yusuf.’

Yusuf forced himself to look away. ‘Why are you telling me this? Do you think me a traitor?’

Asimat smiled. ‘No, of course not. But not all of Nur ad-Din’s subjects are so loyal. If you do not act, then someone will. Gumushtagin, for instance.’

‘Is that what he was here for? To plot against Nur ad-Din?’

‘Gumushtagin is far too clever to discuss his plans with me, and I would never support him. But you…’ Asimat met his eyes and lowered her voice still further. ‘I will help you, if you help me, Yusuf. We can take both our destinies in hand.’

Yusuf’s eyebrows rose. ‘Surely you do not mean-?’

Asimat held his gaze for a moment longer, then looked away. ‘No,’ she said brusquely. ‘Forget I spoke. You should go.’

‘But-’

‘Go!’ Asimat said with finality.

His brow knit, Yusuf rose and left the room, the unspoken words churning in his head.

Yusuf returned to his chambers to find Faridah lounging on his bed in a satin robe. ‘You look very handsome, my lord,’ she said.

Yusuf looked away, embarrassed. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked gruffly.

Faridah smiled. ‘You have no secrets from me, Yusuf.’ She crossed the room to him. ‘You have been to see Asimat. You would never take such care for me.’ She untied the belt of his caftan. ‘Be careful of her, my lord. Nur ad-Din favours you. Do not throw away his generosity.’

‘I have Nur ad-Din’s permission to visit Asimat.’

‘All the more reason to be careful.’

Yusuf turned away from her. He shrugged off his caftan and dropped it on the floor. ‘Do not lecture me, woman. I know what I am doing.’

Faridah moved close behind him and put her arms around his waist. ‘Does Nur ad-Din ask you to dress in your finest clothes when you meet his wife?’ she murmured in his ear. ‘I cannot stop you from wanting her, Yusuf, but I will stop you from acting the fool. If I can see that you are infatuated with her, then others will, too.’

‘There is nothing to see,’ Yusuf lied.

‘Then you will not go to her again?’

Asimat’s words flashed through Yusuf’s mind: ‘I will help you, if you help me.’ Did she want him to give her a son? And what would she give in return? Yusuf rubbed his forehead, trying to bring order to his thoughts. This was madness. Nur ad-Din was his lord. And yet… An image of Asimat’s dark eyes flashed through his mind.

‘I do not wish to speak of it,’ he said at last. He pulled away and went to his trunk to retrieve a plain white caftan.

‘If you do not speak to me, then I cannot help you. Tell me, my lord. What did she say to you?’

Yusuf sighed and turned to face her. ‘She wants me to give her a son.’