“No caggge!” he hissed. “Nott pettt.”
“But you can’t be loose. People come and go all the time in here. Someone will see you,” Ara tried.
“Nnoo cagge!” Suleiman insisted, thrashing when she went to pick him up.
“Suleiman, it’s only for a little while. We’re trying to undo the magic, really we are. We have over a week to find horizontal symmetries. Please get in the basket. Layla will come soon and take you out, but you need to stay here a little longer. Please, Suleiman!”
She carried the angry snake across the room and stuffed him into the basket, closing the lid just as Su’ah came in. “Did I hear you call Suleiman’s name?” the woman asked. “Is he back from his errand? All the work that needs to be done around here, and he’s gallivanting around. I don’t know why the sultan let him go.” She pressed her lips together in disapproval. “Of course, it’s not for me to say.”
“Uh, no. I was just thinking aloud that I missed him.” Ara held the lid firmly closed. “I have to go to meet Rabab now. Would you tell Layla that I have her basket, please?”
“Of course, child. Here is the sewing you did yesterday. Seems to me a lost cause, but maybe Rabab can succeed where I couldn’t. How Zoriah and Rabab hope to train you to be a proper woman, I’d like to know,” she said, looking at the stitching with a reproachful eye.
Ara grabbed Layla’s basket and hurriedly stuffed her own sewing in a bundle before scooting out of the room. Outside, the sun was warm and a gentle wind blew. Four giggling children ran past her chasing a butterfly. The spring air smelled of jasmine and orange blossoms.
Despite the beauty, it did not solve her mounting problems. Since his transformation from a lizard into a snake, Suleiman had become less docile. Perhaps that was because he was a snake, or perhaps it was because he was Suleiman—Ara didn’t know. The cause did not matter. She still had to keep him hidden and safe. For the hundredth time, she wished Tahirah back at the palace. Rabab’s voice carried as she neared the little garden.
“They are dangerous, I tell you. You heard about the French and their Crusades. They took Jerusalem for their own a couple of hundred years ago. Can you imagine our holy city in the hands of Infidels? Why, most of them can’t even read, and I heard they don’t bathe. They even eat snails!”
Ara covered her mouth and giggled, imagining people actually eating the snails that oozed through their gardens.
“But the other countries north of here, Aragon, Castile and Navarre, are worse,” Rabab continued. “How could Allah let such ruffians loose in the world? The Toledo library north of here was burned to the ground by those oafs. Centuries of learning burned to ashes in one large bonfire. What kind of people would do that?” Not waiting for a response, she added. “And they’re coming here. Allah protect us. I’m hiding the silver and the books.”
Rounding the corner, Ara saw Rabab and Fatima sitting with their heads together discussing the upcoming meeting.
“Well, as senior member of the harem, I was surprised that the sultan chose Zoriah to organize this event, young as she is. He didn’t ask me to attend, not that I would have, you understand. I myself will pray to Allah the whole two days that we aren’t murdered in our sleep while they are here,” Fatima said.
Rabab vigorously nodded her head in agreement. “There you are, child,” she said when Ara entered the garden. Catching her foot on a tree root, Ara pitched forward onto the ground. Rabab shook her head in disbelief. “The dance lessons didn’t help, did they?”
Ara peeked under the basket lid, and heaved a sigh of relief that Suleiman was not harmed.
Fatima glowered at the fallen girl clutching her basket and stood up to leave. “Well, I can’t dally anymore. Zoriah has taken on a heavy load. She needs me, the daughter of my daughter, whether she will admit it or not. I’m not one to shirk my duty, you know.
“Don’t you go embarrassing us,” she said, turning to Ara, who was picking herself up. “And just because you can speak Castilian and French, don’t go getting above yourself, young lady. Arabic was good enough for Mohammad, blessed be his name, and it’s good enough for me.” She pursed her lips as if she tasted something foul. “Allah loves a humble heart. Now brush the dirt off your knees, you’re a mess.”
“Yes, Fatima. Allah be with you,” Ara replied, bowing.
Chapter 17
Ara hadn’t been invited to attend the procession. It was just as well, she thought. She needed some time alone to think. The activity in the palace was almost frenzied. Everyone was busy, rushing about to prepare for the visitors. She and Layla had finally finished scrubbing the Lion Fountain two days past. No more traces of red dye and the floor was as clean as two girls, twelve servants and a lot of lemon juice could make it. Ara had checked her lion once again, laying her hand on his mane and speaking her fears in his ear. There was no response, just a girl’s hopeful imagination.
The previous night, right after she and Layla finished a board game with three of the concubines’ sons, the girls made a quick trip to the Hall of the Two Sisters. After searching three walls, they found a horizontal symmetry in gold and red and blue. But it was perfect, not marred by the wazir’s magic.
Even so, Suleiman seemed pleased in his snakelike way. He wriggled and complained less that night and all the next morning. Ara looked longingly out of the window one last time before leaving to begin the final preparations. Everything that could be polished, waxed, shined or bathed had been, and thoroughly. Su’ah had sewn a new outfit for her, muttering that no child in her care would look less than regal.
“Ara, there you are. What are you doing up here?” Su’ah said, breathing heavily as she climbed the staircase. “There’s work to do. You need to get ready. I have your clothes all laid out.”
“Sorry, Su’ah. I wanted a glimpse of the procession.” Ara turned from the window.
“Guess who is asking for you?” Su’ah said as she crossed the room. “The wazir.”
Ara felt her heart race.
“He was worried about you. I mentioned to one of the guards how upset you were the day Suleiman left. Abd al-Rahmid was there. I had him all wrong. I always thought him a selfish, arrogant man, but he seemed truly interested. I told him I would find you so he could speak with you himself.
“It’s good that your father has someone that he can trust. These are hard times, and the wazir is a hard man. He was so, even as a boy, but clever and never forgets a detail.” Su’ah looked out the window before continuing.
“He, too, is concerned about Suleiman’s whereabouts. Actually, I’m worried myself, exasperating as he is. What errand could be taking this long? Ara, are you listening to me or are you daydreaming again?”
Ara jerked herself out of her panic. “Yes, I’m listening. Is Tahirah back yet? Do you know?”
“I heard she is expected back today. Don’t know if that’s true or not. The house slaves were preparing her rooms this morning. But you know how it is. Sufis move at no one’s will but Allah’s.” She shook her head. “Eager to get out of your sewing lessons, are you? Seems to me time spent learning to wield a needle is of better use than any algebra or geometry or whatever,” she rambled on. “Well, hurry up. It isn’t polite to keep people waiting. The wazir’s a very busy man. He is meeting us in the Court of the Lions. Zoriah and Maryam went to collect Layla.”
Ara spun around. “He’s going to talk with Layla!”
“Stop dawdling, child, there is much to do. The wazir only wants to ask if either of you’ve heard from Suleiman. It’s nothing for you to be troubled about.”
Ara felt butterflies the size of birds in her stomach. A whole flight of them. All the way to the Court of the Lions she reminded herself that the wazir couldn’t possibly know she had been in the mirrored room. He didn’t know Suleiman wasn’t a lizard anymore. Why, oh why wasn’t Tahirah back?
Zoriah and Maryam stood in the courtyard looking puzzled. Layla’s smile was uneasy, but she seemed calmer than Ara felt.
> Ara walked into the lion court with Su’ah, her gaze flickering nervously about. The wazir was nowhere in sight. Maryam, dressed in a sand-colored hijab, was speaking to Zoriah. “He couldn’t wait a short while? After insisting he needed to speak with my daughter and Ara, he just walked out? We dropped everything and rushed here to accommodate his wishes.”
“This does seem odd,” Zoriah agreed. “He suddenly looked distracted and pale. One moment he was pacing the courtyard asking when you would arrive, not long after he stared at the ground and abruptly rushed out.”
“I’ve got to get back to review tonight’s preparation with the servants,” Maryam said, moving toward the door. “Layla, you need to finish getting ready also.”
“Just a few moments, Mother. I need to speak to Ara.”
“What happened?” Ara asked when the women were well out of the room.
“I’m not really sure. I got here just before he left. He was pacing, just as Zoriah said, but he stopped and seemed glued in place. Then he turned and left, completely ignoring me,” Layla said with a shrug.
“Did he see something or remember he had to do something, do you think?” Ara asked, thankful she didn’t have to face the evil wazir.
“He stopped when he was standing about four paces from the lion fountain, where the bushes are.” She walked over to the spot.
“I don’t see anything unusual, do you?” Ara asked.
“Not really, just dirt and pebbles and bushes,” she said, looking at the ground. “Wait, what is this?” She pointed to a track pushed into the soft ground. Both girls stared at a paw print, edged in red, from what looked like a very large cat.
Ara waved her hand. “This is an enclosed courtyard. Nothing gets in here. Besides, cats with paws the size of my hand don’t exist. Except” —Ara turned slowly toward the stone lions, her mouth open in wonder— “for them.”
Layla shuddered. “We must tell Tahirah. She’ll know what it means. Maybe the lions want to help. I wanted to be brave, but I was so frightened.”
“Me too,” Ara agreed, thinking of her flight of butterflies. “But you looked unafraid. I think that’s all we have to do.”
“What, we just have to look brave?”
Ara considered. “We just have to look, well…not interested, sort of bored. The wazir doesn’t know we’re tangled in this unless we tell him. Suleiman is always suspicious when I look the least bit jumpy.”
Su’ah called from the arched doorway, “Ara and Layla! The People of the Book are coming up the road right now. You both need to bathe and dress. Ara, you know you have to help with translating for the women. Come, hurry along!”
“Yes, Su’ah,” they replied as one.
Chapter 18
The evening started well enough. The wazir must have busied himself with the sultan’s work and did not seek out the two daughters of the harem.
Five of the strangers’ women and three of their children joined them for the evening meal. One lad, a bit younger than Ara with round cheeks, ginger curls and a surly expression, sat arguing with his mother. The two younger boys, dressed in velvet and silk, had the most amazing golden hair that curled at their shoulders. Ara kept stealing looks at their hair, unable to believe it was real, until Zoriah quietly pinched her and whispered, “Stop staring.”
Ara looked elsewhere, glad for the reminder. Layla leaned toward her, “A horizontal symmetry.” And there it was, low to the ground near the floor, a flower pattern that almost crawled across the wall.
Ara hugged her cousin and said so only Layla could hear, “We’ll find the broken one soon. We have to.”
Ara’s father had introduced the foreign women to his wives and female relatives and offered Ara as interpreter before he left to join the men. They had strange names that were hard to keep straight—Lady Anna, Lady Theresa, Lady Catalina, Sister Mary and Sister Helena. The first three were married to lords who were off discussing the trade treaty with the sultan. The other two, wearing hijabs similar to Islamic women, said—or Ara thought they said—they were sisters married to Christ. It seemed unlikely, as he had been dead for some time. To make their point, they showed Ara gifts of jewelry from Him. Rosaries, they said, adorning their necks. The necklaces were made of rose petals rolled into tight balls and strung like beads.
Ara had seen a similar necklace on Tahirah, only it was called a tasbih. The Sisters seemed to take great pleasure in theirs as they touched them often during dinner.
The meal was served in the Mirador de Lindaraja, a rectangular room off the Hall of the Two Sisters. It was an elegant room with low, arched windows that looked out over the countryside. Above was a stained glass ceiling that seemed to twinkle as the light penetrated it.
The Christian women had difficulty attempting to sit down to eat. Their garments, Lady Anna explained as she tugged impatiently at her clothes, were unsuited to sitting on the floor. After some contortions and rearranging of cushions, everyone was seated and the meal was brought in.
Course after course arrived: figs and olives to start, then doves in pomegranate sauce, chicken with salted lemons, goat roasted with spices, eggplant sautéed and dotted with sesame seeds, fava beans with olive oil drizzled on top, carrots cooked with mint and cinnamon, and roasted almonds.
The ewers of water caused some confusion. One of the women poured herself what she believed was watered wine. Ara hastily translated for Zoriah that the water was to wash their hands.
Although the guests seemed hesitant about some of the dishes, the banquet was going well. They admired the decorated ceramic plates on which food was served. Sister Mary explained, delicately touching the plates, that normally they used wooden trenchers and that the beauty of these surpassed any she had seen. Ara promptly passed the compliment to Zoriah, who smiled with pleasure.
Rabab was delighted with the gift of a cage full of brightly colored birds—parakeets, they were called. Lady Anna leaned over, pointing to one of the birds. It could talk, she said, but not understand. The Arab women, in return, gifted the Christians with a beautiful metal box inlaid with gold and silver designs and two large ceramic serving bowls with an opaque white glaze decorated in green and blue designs.
The ginger-haired boy, who had been complaining steadily to his mother, spit out a piece of food. Ara quickly glanced away.
All eyes drifted over to him, and all became aware that he ate with his left hand. Maryam’s eyes widened. Zoriah, after a double take, looked determinedly at her plate. Ara looked anywhere but at him. Three or four servants stopped in their tracks but caught themselves after a sharp glance from Zoriah. Layla wrinkled her nose and carefully studied her food. As the smallest child knew, the left hand was for cleaning after bodily functions, never for eating. Ara thanked Allah she wasn’t sharing her plate with him.
Rabab was filling her plate with an eggplant dish until she too noticed the child scooping up food with his left hand. Her mouth flew open and she blurted, “That’s disgusting.” The foreign woman seated next to Ara smiled uncertainly and asked, “What did she say?”
Ara struggled. “She, um, she said…”
“Ara, what did she ask you?” Zoriah interrupted.
“She wants to know what Rabab said,” Ara replied with a pleading look.
“Of course,” Zoriah answered, nodding and smiling pleasantly at the woman. “Tell her that Rabab had an attack of indigestion, to which she is subject.” Still smiling, she turned to Rabab. “You will not make another outburst.”
Ara dutifully repeated Zoriah’s words to Lady Anna, who smiled back but seemed unconvinced.
“What was just said?” she wanted to know.
“She was expressing concern for Rabab’s health,” Ara said with a straight face. Translating was more complex than she had imagined.
“Would you repeat their names for me once more?”
“The one who just spoke is Zoriah. She is Father’s head wife. Next to her is Maryam, Layla’s mother and my aunt. Rabab is, um, the one with digesti
on problems. She is my mother’s mother’s sister. I think you would say great aunt. Layla, my cousin and best friend, is sitting next to me, and my name is Ara.”
“Thank you,” Lady Anna said. “You’re a very sweet child.”
The ginger-haired boy raised his voice, making it hard to ignore him. “Mama, I can’t eat this. I want beef, not food for dogs.” He pushed his legs out to the side. “Why must we sit on the floor? I bet Father and the other men are not eating on the floor like paupers.”
“Enrique, try not to fuss, dear. I know this isn’t how we normally eat, but try to be pleasant. Your father has his reasons. This fall he’ll make you a page. Then you’ll be with the men.” His mother patted him on the cheek.
Lady Anna, sitting next to Ara, sat rigid and turned slightly pink.
“Ara,” Zoriah asked. “Is there a problem?”
Lady Anna spoke, “Ara, what did she ask?”
“She wants to know what’s wrong,” Ara answered uncomfortably.
“Tell her the child has a stomach ache from traveling,” Lady Anna said, looking directly into her eyes.
“The boy is in poor health and misses his father,” Ara translated.
“Can we get anything for him? Mint tea or a purgative?” Zoriah asked suspiciously.
Ara translated again.
“No. Thank her for her concern,” Lady Anna responded before muttering under her breath. “He and I are going to have a talk. We’ll be right back.” She turned to Lady Theresa as she wrestled the boy out of the hall. “I’ll not have your child behave this badly when we’re on a delicate mission. Either you control your son or I will.” As she left, her voice carried, “Enrique, mind your manners right now or your father will be told of your dreadful behavior.”
“What is going on?” Zoriah said, looking from one to the other.
“She asked him if he wants mint tea. He thought a walk might help,” Ara ad-libbed.
Zoriah, Maryam and Rabab looked at Ara, their eyebrows were drawn down in disbelief.
The Stone Lions Page 8
