I leaned against the side of the dhow and watched her in silence. How long we both stood there like this I do not know. My eyes traveled over her high cheekbones, her burnished skin, her raven hair floating in the breeze that now blew off the water, bringing the chill of sea foam. She stood there before me, her eyes assessing my form as well. Then the breeze lifted her hair again and swept her body. The skin on her arms pebbled with the cold and she shivered -- an infinitesimal quiver, that she instantly suppressed -- but I saw it. That tiny shiver. I was undone.
"I will tell you what I can," I said, and removing my cloak, I drew it around her so quickly that she could not refuse me. Her eyes widened but her hands pulled the cloak firmly against her side.
"May the blessings of Allah be upon you always," she said, inclining her head. "Now, what can you tell me?"
She had so many questions! She wanted to know everything about my life at the temple and I was happy to tell her all I could. You must understand that there were many rules governing our life in the temple and I could not divulge everything we did there. Still, I found enough to tell her so that she would continue to sit with me at the side of the dhow, the breeze sending her hair across her high brow. Once I leaned forward toward her and the wind blew between us; her hair touched my face ever so gently, intoxicating me.
"Tell me of the catamites," she demanded. "I want to know everything about the sacred men and women who mate with the gods."
"I would not know about them," I told her. "I have never mated with a god." This was true enough, but I knew what she meant and could not stop the blush from staining my cheeks. I knew very well what the temple catamites did, as all dedicated to Isis must serve their time in this way, loving both men and women in the sacred rituals that draw the fertile energy to the land. I made no apologies for this to myself, but I did not want her to know, did not want to see her recoil if she did not understand. Noting my discomfiture, she turned to look out over the waves. She was silent for the rest of that day.
Then it was my turn. "Where is the valley your family inhabits? How did they come to be there? My father told me Iranzu said you could speak with your mind! How can you do this?"
She held up her hands and her teeth gleamed as her lips parted in a smile. "One question at a time, please. Our valley is in the north between Navarre and Béarn. My family came there many, many years ago, after our home across the western sea was destroyed." She looked out across the water and her brow wrinkled. "All the Jakintzas have some ability to speak with their minds. I was born knowing how to send my thoughts to others, how to sense certain things, and my father has trained me to bring these abilities under the control of my will." Her forehead smoothed and she leaned against the railing. "But I have not yet ascended to our sacred cave to commune with the Guardian."
I had to ask her. "Does your Guardian look like Isis?" I held up a picture I had traced from a tomb painting of Isis, her wings spreading out from her shoulders.
She did not even look at the picture. "Some call Her Jainkosa, the Goddess," she murmured. "Her face is the face of all women, just as the God's face is the face of all men." Leaning forward, she took my hands. "They fulfill themselves through us. As we seek to become better and better, to know ourselves and to grow in wisdom and devotion, the gods become manifest."
I was trembling, and she noticed. She dropped my hands and looked down into her lap. The sun had traveled its full course and was now a huge orange and red circle sitting at the edge of the sea. A gentle warmth embraced me where its light touched my arms, but the wind was rising again. I ached to touch her, yet I could not bring myself to lift my hand. She spoke again, her eyes still lowered. "Over the years my family has forgotten our original home. Our traditions have been blurred by the world, but still, most generations have had a woman ascend to the cave and commune with the Guardian through the sacred stone." She turned toward the deck, away from me.
"What is this stone?" I was glad she had moved. I was having difficulty masking my feelings.
"No one knows for sure, but our legends say it fell from the sky." Her eyes grew distant. "There is a song we sing about the first ones, the first of our family to come to our valley." She hummed a melancholy tune, then softly sang words to the melody, "Who are we here in this fair place, these mountains, this small valley? What happened to the others we left behind?" She closed her eyes and her voice soared up to battle with the noise of the steady wind that filled our sails. "We are the shining ones, we are the people of the morning star. Our home is no more, our home is no more." The tune she sang haunted me, and when she sang I could almost hear the echo of other voices singing with her.
She fell silent and a tear slipped down her cheek, a tear she swiftly dashed away with the back of her hand, but I had seen it. Now my arms ached to hold her, to take her into my embrace and kiss the tear away. She had given me no sign that she would welcome my touch so I remained where I was. I tried to keep a proper distance from her, especially at night.
In fact, I spent a lot of time pacing the decks at night, from fore to aft, around and around. Thérèse curled up next to her father at the front of the dhow every evening. When I walked past them, I could see the dark brush of her lashes fanned out against her cheek, her tumble of ebony hair. So strong, I thought, she tries to be so strong. But that little shiver, that single tear! I bedded down with the crew at the back, but even though we were separated by the length of the dhow I found her presence more and more disturbing. The ache had spread now to my chest, my belly.
I must tell you here that I consider my appetites normal. I had enjoyed warm and fulfilling liaisons with many women, and men, too, when I served as catamite in the temple. I had never lacked physical love, and I had never worried about it. But now I found myself close to a woman I wanted more than any other I had ever known and I could do nothing but grit my teeth and pace the deck to tire myself so that I could ignore the ache of wanting and fall asleep.
Even so, I visited her in my dreams and awoke many times with a cry, feeling my seed spilling into my robe. The crew found this all very amusing, especially when they watched me washing my robe out in the mornings after these passionate dreams. I told Iranzu that the washing of the robe was part of temple practice. His mouth twitched, but he did not say anything. What Thérèse thought I did not know.
All journeys must end, and ours did soon, when the Al'Bediah entered the harbor at Constantinople. Byzantium! I leaned on the railing at the side of the dhow and squinted at the wharf. Where Alexandria was all shades of brown, Constantinople shone in white and blue. A cluster of buildings hugged the curve of the harbor, their white walls washed with palest blue, the water answering their cool shadows with fathomless indigo. When our vessel approached the mooring, I could see the blue wash was really a layer of grime that settled on everything, walls, doors, roofs. But where are the spires? I thought. Where is the graceful blue curve of the Sophia? All I could see was a wharf like any other, teeming with folk buying and selling, unloading and loading. I searched the quay for the banner of the Khaldun family and ordered the street urchins to back away while I helped Iranzu and Thérèse off the deck of the dhow and onto the pier.
"There it is!" I waved my arms to signal the Khaldun wagon. The driver urged his horses to pull the wooden cart over to where we waited. I had the crew load Iranzu and Thérèse's chests onto the back, and tossed rosewater sweets I had brought from home into the crowd of children that blocked our path. While they scurried to catch what I had thrown we rode off into the city.
Although he was a Christian, my cousin's home was built in the Moorish fashion, with tall stone walls in blinding white facing the street and the living area inside surrounding a central courtyard. Lush fig and pomegranate trees graced the court, placed in huge clay tubs on the mosaic tiles that formed the floor. A graceful fountain spilled clear water into a large pool at the center of the court.
An entire wing of the house was sectioned off for my cousin's sisters. He had four
unmarried sisters he supported, two were older than he and the other two were younger. The eldest acted much as the chatelaine of the household, making sure that the essential function of running her brother's home was carried out to perfection. I watched as she and Thérèse appraised each other and held my breath until my cousin's eldest sister nodded her head, as if to say "You'll do," and the two women embraced. The rest of the sisters spent most of their time in their quarters. They had eyed me with interest until Justin informed them that I was their cousin. Then their eyes had shifted to Iranzu, who played the gallant but elusive stranger for several days until they gave up trying to snare him.
The minute I had completed my duty to my father, seeing Iranzu and Thérèse settled into the home of my cousin, I made my way back to the harbor and wandered around, breathing in the atmosphere and observing the people. Perhaps here I could find the answers I was seeking! But first I sought and found women to serve my need. I returned to my cousin's home drained, but not satisfied, and the minute I saw Thérèse again the ache of wanting her filled my body. It was hopeless.
Iranzu and Thérèse came to me the next morning. "There is a group of dervishes we wish to see," Iranzu said, his hands deftly pouring boiling tea out of the slender neck of Justin's metal jug. "They dance and howl and God answers their questions. You will take us there?" His voice lifted in question.
I folded my arms across my chest. I knew where these dervishes resided, the eastern section of the harbor where thieves and bandits reined. "I will take you." I turned my face away from Thérèse's glare. "But women cannot go there. It is too dangerous," I added as she scowled at me.
Iranzu leaned back on the divan and cradled his steaming cup in his hands. "I see," was all he said and I marched off to my chamber to make ready for our journey. When I returned to the courtyard, it was empty.
They had gone without me.
I waited all day for them to come back, pacing the tiles of the courtyard, dropping to the seat surrounding the fountain, making my hands into knots and gritting my teeth. I would have followed them, but they had taken the cart and horses. It was too far to walk. They would be back before I reached them.
At sunset they marched into the courtyard. Justin's sisters had prepared a fine meal of ground chicken and pine nuts wrapped in a thin dough, spiced with nutmeg. I sat at the table when Iranzu and Thérèse entered the courtyard. "We did not find the dervishes," Iranzu said. Then nobody spoke, the entire meal passed in silence and the sisters eyed us with alarm when they came in to clear away our dishes. I had eaten everything on my plate, but tasted nothing.
Finally, I slammed my cup on the table. "Very well," I stated, "I will take you both." I could see the gleam of Thérèse's eyes though mine were turned on Iranzu. "But your daughter must go in disguise." It was I who demanded that she darken her skin, cover her hair and bind her breasts, dressing like a boy so that we could travel more easily into the dark corners of the city. Ah, had I only known then the trouble this would cause!
THE WHEEL of the year turned to the time of the wolf moon; Thérèse called this time "Txirringa Erreketa," the fire-wheel. It was during the circle of the lion, and high summer had given way to cooler nights, yet the days were still hot. Most evenings Thérèse and I played chess in the center of the courtyard while Iranzu dozed nearby.
I had grown used to the ache within me, the melancholy despair of loving a woman who treated me only as a friend. I turned to the songs of the troubadours for my solace. Iranzu was teaching me songs of the traveling minstrels so I could learn the langue d'oc. I humored him at first, then eagerly learned all I could when I found these songs reflected the anguish I felt. I sang a chanson of Raimbaut D'Orange one evening, watching the golden light from the torches play across Thérèse's cheekbones and glint off the ebony sheen of her hair. The end of the song I write for you here:
"Lady, my heart is your slave, sweeten my torment. Help me, God! What can I do?"
She applauded and smiled. "Ibrahim, your voice is astounding! But how did you learn the songs so fast?"
My face grew warm. I had memorized the songs to give voice to my longing, but conversing in the language still eluded me. I was about to tell her this when Iranzu snored himself awake and abruptly signaled for us to be still. I could hear a quick inhalation from Thérèse. Then I saw her close her eyes and listen, her body motionless.
I could hear nothing but the murmuring of the doves and the tinkling of the fountain. The moon had ridden high enough to shine into the courtyard, and late evening stars hung in the deep blue arc above us. Justin had told us that the citizens of Constantinople still had problems with stragglers from the crusades in the center of the city. Some of these knights had come to free the holy land and then had developed a taste for life in the east. From time to time they would become drunk and would forget that Constantinople was a Christian city. They would invade stores and houses looking for Saracens. But none had ever come this far before. My cousin had left that morning to receive a shipment of grain and had not yet returned. The sisters were in their quarters. I was in charge.
Thérèse's eyes were open and locked with her father's now. I always found their silent communication unnerving, so I stood and stretched, the bones of my spine cracking. Iranzu's hand reached for his staff, yet his eyes were still fixed upon his daughter. All was still, but the air trembled. "What is wrong?" I asked.
That very moment a crash from outside and the screams of the Khaldun sisters sliced the air. I looked around for my cousin's guards and could find no one. Iranzu was already arming himself with his staff. I ran after him as he made his way to the sisters' rooms. Weapons were no good in my hands. I had taken the oath never to bring harm to another. Still, I followed him.
Christian knights! I could smell them -- a mixture of sour wine and unwashed bodies -- even before I reached the room. Stopping at the entrance, I gazed in horror at three knights dressed in breeches and stained leather shirts. The eldest Khaldun sister was pummeling one while the other two knights were weaving around, brandishing their swords and shouting at the sisters. I turned to Iranzu, who was collapsing with mirth.
"What are they saying?" I asked him.
He could barely talk, but managed to sputter, "They think this is a harem." He wiped his eyes. "They say they are here to rescue the women."
Then Iranzu straightened and his voice boomed out into the room. I could not understand what he was saying at the time, but he later told me that he was informing the unfortunate knights that this was a Christian household and these women were sisters. The faces of the knights sagged. One, at least, had the grace to try to apologize. Iranzu glanced over at me and translated as the knight bowed and spoke.
"He says he is Bernart de Bazas. They were told there was a harem here by some wretch down at the harbor, would we please forgive them?"
The third knight slid down beside him and Bernart looked helplessly at us.
"Very well," I said. "I will help you carry him out to the fountain." I matched my words with action, since Bernart clearly could not understand me, grabbing one arm while he took the other and we dragged the collapsed knight out into the courtyard.
"Iranzu! This one I am carrying is a giraffe! Look at those long legs," I remarked as Iranzu followed us with the other knight he had rescued from the eldest sister. Iranzu's knight stumbled forward toward me as I handed the knight I was dragging into the courtyard over to Thérèse.
"My name is Raoul," he told me in my own language. Then he loomed over the knight I had helped drag out to the fountain. "Damn, I'm sorry, Louis-Philippe!" he said to him in his own tongue. I was so pleased that I could actually understand Raoul that I dropped the arm of the knight Louis-Philippe and watched it hit the tiles. "That guide lied to me," Raoul was saying. He looked over at me as Thérèse dunked the head of the one he called Louis-Philippe into the water of the pool. "It is his birthday," Raoul told me in Arabic again, then he also collapsed, his head making a hollow sound on the tiles. I wi
nced.
"Iranzu!" I took Raoul under the arms to pull him over to one of the four divans around the perimeter. Iranzu was already occupied with Bernart, who had also fainted. I managed to slide Raoul next to Bernart and shove a pillow beneath his head. Then I turned back to see how Thérèse was faring with Louis-Philippe, the giraffe.
My heart stopped.
She was sitting at the edge of the fountain cradling the head of this Louis-Philippe in her lap. His uncommonly long legs were sprawled, one resting on the ledge of the fountain, the other on the tile floor of the courtyard. He stank of wine and garlic. Yet Thérèse was brushing his long wet chestnut hair away from his face and studying his countenance with wonder. "Who are you?" she whispered, over and over. "Who are you?"
I STAYED in the courtyard all night with the three drunken knights. Iranzu had discovered Justin's guards outside. It seems that the knights had overpowered them and tied them up. I found this hard to believe, and made a mental note to tell Justin I suspected bribery.
While the knights slept, I studied the profile of Louis-Philippe. I had to admit that he was very handsome, but then so am I! I vowed to win Thérèse's heart for myself. As dawn was breaking and the sky was turning a delicate gray, Louis-Philippe groaned. I filled a skin with water and poured it over his head.
He sputtered and lunged forward, then he clapped his hands to his forehead and groaned even louder. "What happened?" he asked.
Even I could understand that, but I could not answer him in his own language, so I spoke in my own. "Infidel!" I cried, "you have invaded the home of a fine citizen of this city." I folded my arms and frowned down upon him. "A thousand curses on you and your family!" My curses are not something to be taken lightly, as my training in the temple lends power to my words. Again, how I have lived to regret what I have said and done!
Door in the Sky Page 8
