‘No. That is the one place where I do not wish to live. I will naturally discuss all this with Lady Hind, but the Maghrebian town which pleases me the most is Fes. It is not unlike Gharnata, but without the presence of Archbishop Cisneros. Moreover Ibn Khaldun, if my grandmother is to be believed, commended it highly and wished to make it his permanent home.’
Whereas a few weeks ago the sight of Hind making eyes at Ibn Daud had only served to kindle Umar’s irritation with the Qahirene, he now began to feel a kind of admiration for this young man. He no longer found him irksome and too clever for his own good, and had begun to share his confidence that he could survive materially simply on the basis of his intellect. As they reached the inner courtyard Umar felt that he was one of the few men with whom Hind could be happy. He embraced Ibn Daud.
‘Peace be upon you and sleep well.’
‘Peace be upon you,’ responded the scholar from al-Qahira, his voice choked with emotions he was trying so hard to conceal.
When Umar entered his wife’s bed-chamber he found Hind massaging her mother’s legs and feet. Zubayda sat up the minute her husband entered the room.
‘Well?’
‘Who won at chess, Hind?’ was Umar’s only response, designed deliberately to provoke his wife.
‘Umar!’ demanded Zubayda. ‘What happened?’
Umar, looking as resigned and calm as he could, stared at her with a smile. ‘It was as I thought,’ he replied. ‘The boy truly loves our daughter. Of that I have not the slightest doubt. I gave him my permission. It is now up to Hind.’
‘My fears?’ pressed Zubayda. ‘Were they totally false?’
Umar shrugged his shoulders. ‘They were irrelevant.’
Zubayda smiled in satisfaction. ‘It is your choice and yours alone, my daughter. We are happy.’
Hind’s face had acquired a flush as she heard this conversation. Her heart had begun to beat faster. ‘I will think carefully about it tonight,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘and tomorrow you shall all have my answer.’
She then kissed her parents in turn and, putting on her most dignified look, walked slowly out of the chamber.
Once she was in the safety of her own room, she began to laugh, first silently and then aloud. The laughter reflected her triumph, her joy, and there was also an element of hysteria. ‘I wish you were not dead, Great-Aunt Zahra.’ Hind was looking at a mirror and inspecting her own face, whose natural softness was enhanced by the light of the lamp. ‘I need to talk to you. I think I will marry him, but first I must convince myself that his love is genuine, and there is only one way to find out. You told me so yourself.’
Having convinced herself of the righteousness of what she was about to do, Hind extinguished the lamp in her room and tiptoed out into the courtyard. It was pitch-black. The clouds had returned and covered the stars. She waited till her eyes had adjusted to the dark and walked nervously to the guest chambers.
Outside Ibn Daud’s room she paused till she had stopped trembling. She looked around carefully. Everything was still. His light was still burning. She knocked gently on the door. Inside the room Ibn Daud was puzzled. He wrapped a sheet around him, got out of bed and unlatched the door.
‘Hind!’ His surprise was so great that he could barely hear his own voice. ‘Please come in.’
Hind marched into the room, trying hard not to laugh at the sight of this very proper young man trying to keep the sheet around him in place. She sat down on the bed.
‘My father says that he has given you permission to marry me.’
‘Only if you agree. Is that all your father said?’
‘Yes. What else did you say to him?’
‘Something I should have said to you many days ago. I was a fool, Hind. I think I must have been frightened of losing you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Ibn Daud recounted the whole story of his love for the dead Mansur, including the details most likely to cause pain to her. He described how they had shared a room at the al-Azhar university, how they had found each other’s company the most stimulating and how, one night, their intellectual affinity had brought them together physically. He talked of their discovery of each other and then the death of Mansur.
‘You were the person who brought me back to life.’
‘I am glad of that. You have probably realized that I am one of those who prefer a heart pierced with anguish to a placid happiness, which is usually based on self-deception or deceit. The food of most marriages is a cold emptiness. Most of my cousins are married to brutes with the sensitivity of a log. Marriage for its own sake is something I could never accept. Can I ask you something?’
‘Whatever you wish.’ Ibn Daud’s voice sounded eager and relieved.
‘We could become great friends, write poetry together, join the hunt, discuss astronomy, but are you sure that when the sun sets you will desire a woman’s body in your arms?’
‘I have been yearning for you since the afternoon. I was confused and unsure, but the flow of your hands across my limbs was an experience I would happily repeat when the sun rises, never mind at night.’
As he stroked her face she felt moved again and embraced him, feeling his naked body underneath the sheet of pure cotton. When she felt his palm-tree stir she pulled the sheet off him and held him tight. Then she stepped back and shed her gown.
‘The noise of your heartbeats will wake up the whole household,’ she teased as she put out the lamp and fell with him on the bed.
‘Are you sure, Hind? Are you sure?’ he asked, incapable of further self-control.
She nodded. Gently he planted his tree in her garden. She felt the pain, which was transformed within seconds into pain-pleasure, and then she relaxed and joined him as their bodies began to heave in unison, reaching a climax together. All her cousins and the maid-servants had told Hind that the first time was the least pleasurable. She lay back and enjoyed the after-glow.
‘Now are you sure,’ he asked her, sitting up in bed and giving her a quizzical look.
‘Yes, my lover, now I am sure. Are you?’
‘What do you mean, you devil?’
‘I mean was it as nice as it used to be with Mansur?’
‘It is very different with you, my princess, and so it shall remain. A pomegranate can give as much pleasure as an oyster even though the taste of each is so completely different from the other. To compare them is to spoil both.’
‘I am warning you, Ibn Daud. Even before we are married. If you desert me for a pretty young boy selling figs, my revenge will be public and brutal.’
‘What will you do?’
In response she clasped his palm-tree.
‘I will remove these dates and have them pickled.’
This made both of them laugh. The flame mounted again. They made love many times that night. He fell asleep before she did. For a long time she watched his sleeping body and relived what she had just experienced. She stroked his hair, hoping that it might awaken him, but he did not stir. Her palate wanted to taste him again, but sleep, tired of waiting any longer, overpowered her desire.
Just before sunrise, Zubayda entered the room, knowing what she would find. She put her hand on her daughter’s mouth to prevent any startled screams which might embarrass her lover, then shook her vigorously till she opened her eyes. On seeing Zubayda she sat bolt-upright in the bed. Zubayda signalled that they should leave the room quietly.
‘I love him. I will marry him,’ whispered Hind drowsily as they crossed back into the inner courtyard.
‘I am truly glad to hear the news,’ replied her mother, ‘but I think you should marry him later this afternoon!’
Chapter 11