The Moon of Masarrah

by Farah Zaman

  “Maymun, can we help you do some chores today?” Layla said. “You look very tired.”

  Maymun smiled wanly. “I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. Don’t you worry.”

  “Please believe that we didn’t put that poster in the cellar,” Adam said. “It’s a mystery to us how it got there.”

  “Let’s forget about that,” Maymun said briskly as she placed a carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice on the island. “It was just a silly picture after all.”

  She probably thinks one of us did it, Zaid thought. Who can blame her?

  While they were eating, Mr. Horani walked into the dining room, he too looking tired and haggard. After greeting them, he said without preamble, “I told Maymun to take the rest of the day off and rest. You will be spending the day at the Ahmeds. Mrs. Ahmed said that Basim will be delighted to have your company.”

  The teenagers digested this piece of news in silence. Under different circumstances, they would have looked forward to the visit but right now it felt too much like they were being sent away in disgrace.

  As if sensing what was on their minds, Mr. Horani said, “I do not want last night’s incident to spoil your vacation, so I am going to chalk it down to a badly misjudged prank and it will not be mentioned again. Now, Mrs. Ahmed is sending their chauffeur for you at eleven. That gives you about an hour to get ready. They have a nice pool, so you might want to take your swimming clothes.”

  By the time they left the dining room to prepare for their impending visit to the Ahmeds, Zaid had perked up a bit at the prospect of using the pool. After packing his swimming gear into his backpack, he could not help reflecting how uncomfortable it felt to be under a cloud of suspicion. I guess we’ll continue to be until the culprit is caught, he thought glumly.

  At promptly eleven o’clock, the doorbell rang. Zaid and Adam were waiting in the great hall with Mr. Horani while the girls and twins were in the living room. Mr. Horani hurried to the door and opened it. A tall man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform and hat stood outside. He was in his early thirties and had a long face with a closely cut beard, deep-set dark eyes and a somewhat stiff countenance. Behind him was parked a gleaming black limousine.

  “I am Nassif, the Ahmeds’ chauffeur,” he introduced himself after greetings were exchanged. “Are the children ready?”

  “Yes, they are,” Mr. Horani replied. “They’ll be out in a minute.”

  As Nassif headed back to the limousine, the girls and twins were summoned and Mr. Horani hustled them out the door. “You all have a good time.”

  As they walked out to the limousine, Zaid remarked, “The Ahmeds must be very rich to own a limousine with a chauffeur.”

  Adam nodded. “Oh, yes. Grandpa says that they are one of the richest families in Bayan Bay. Of course, the richest by far is the Ambreens. They’re into everything. Oil, shipping, textiles, you name it.”

  “Didn’t some of the Ambreens come to Jumu’ah in that white limousine?” Zahra asked.

  “Yes, they did,” Adam replied. “Two men and a boy.”

  “We saw the boy in the library afterwards,” Zaid said, remembering the rude boy.

  “Yeah,” Adam recalled. “He was a nasty piece of work.”

  The ride to Ma’ab Manor took ten minutes. When they arrived at the house, the chauffeur came out and opened the door of the limousine. He waited politely as they climbed out before driving off.

  Ma’ab Manor nestled amid smooth green lawns fringed by date palms. A water fountain cascaded in the middle of the courtyard, its water glinting silver in the sunlight. The house itself was a graceful, white two-story villa with a wraparound balcony on the upper floor. Judging from the cries of the seabirds flying overhead, it was also close to the bay.

  “It’s a beautiful house,” Layla said in admiration. “It looks so new and sleek.”

  Basim came hurrying from the columned entryway and greetings were exchanged.

  “Welcome to Ma’ab Manor,” he beamed at them. “I’m so glad you came. Come on, let’s go inside.”

  As they entered a large living area with cathedral ceilings and long, high windows that let in lots of natural light, Mrs. Ahmed came to greet them. “It’s wonderful to have you all here,” she said warmly. “Basim will show you around and keep you entertained. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Lunch is at twelve-thirty, so I’ll see you then.”

  Basim promptly took them on a tour of the house and grounds, ending at the freeform swimming pool, which had several lounging chairs around it. A strategic grove of cedar trees provided a thick screen of privacy all around. Basim promised that they would use the pool later when the sweltering heat had abated a little. After the tour, he took them to a cool, airy den at the back of the house. A set of floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a green tract of land that sloped gently downwards, giving them a stunning view of the bay.

  Before long, a shy-looking maid came to announce that lunch was ready.

  “Thank you, Yasmin,” Basim said.

  They followed Basim to the elaborate dining room where Mrs. Ahmed was already seated. An ornate chandelier hung above a gleaming mahogany dining table and its twelve matching chairs. Zaid looked with pleasurable anticipation at the eggplant, meatballs and pasta, and the golden-red pieces of tandoori chicken served with jasmine rice. On the table were also several jugs of cold lemonade and a chocolate cake for dessert. As they seated themselves and began to eat, Mr. Ahmed walked in. Basim had told them that his father was at work but was expected home for lunch.

  “Assalaam Alaikum, everyone,” he said jovially as he sat down and began to heap food onto his plate. “So glad you could visit. Are you having a good time?”

  “Yes, Basim has been showing us around,” Adam replied. “I love the tennis court and swimming pool.”

  “You should take a dip in the pool,” Mr. Ahmed told them as he forked up pasta and began to eat. “Basim would lose some of that weight if he would only cut back on ice cream and use the pool more often.”

  Zaid almost choked on a meatball at Mr. Ahmed’s tactless remark. He thought it was rather unkind of him to embarrass Basim. The poor boy looked red in the face as he told his father, “We’ll be swimming later.”

  “Good, good,” Mr. Ahmed nodded approvingly.

  After lunch and the midday prayer, they went back to the den.

  “Have you been to the Mariners’ Museum yet?” Basim asked, as he dug out a couple of coloring books and crayons from a storage drawer and handed them to the twins.

  “No,” Layla shook her head. “I think Grandpa did mention it.”

  “It’s got a miniature model of your great-grandfather’s ship on display. In fact, there are all sorts of memorabilia that they’ve collected from the crew of the Yuhanza. My Great-Grandfather Qasim donated a few things. He was one of the crewmen, you know.”

  “He was?” Adam said with interest. “We didn’t know.”

  “He died a few years ago. I used to love listening to his stories about his voyages. He was sad that the Captain had been killed and the Yuhanza burned by the rebels. He used to say that the Captain and his ship went down the same night.”

  “They did, didn’t they?” Layla mused. “That’s very symbolic.”

  “By the way,” Basim said as he rummaged again in one of the drawers. “I heard that some rich shaykh came to visit your grandfather the other day.”

  Adam shared a look of surprise with the others. “How did you know?”

  “I heard Mrs. Basri tell my mom. Her niece is a maid at the hotel where this shaykh stayed and overheard him and his bodyguard talking about visiting Bayan House. So, what did he want?” Basim asked curiously as he pulled out a game of Scrabble.

  “Oh, he needed Grandpa’s help with something,” Adam replied guardedly.

  “My dad said that he was a very, very rich shay
kh,” Basim said. “It must have been something really important.”

  “Grandpa wasn’t able to help him,” Adam said dismissively. “He didn’t stay very long.”

  Looking disappointed that there was no news forthcoming, Basim next removed the games Battleship and Pictionary from the drawer. As he placed the games onto the carpeted floor, he said, “You know, you should visit Pasha’s Playland. You’ll have a lot of fun there.”

  “Is it a toy store or something?” Layla asked.

  “No, it’s an amusement park. It’s the only one in Midan.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Zaid said. “We always wanted to see what it’s like but we never found the time to come this far. Maybe we can check it out before we leave.”

  “They have some really nice rides and games,” Basim said. “And I love their ice cream.”

  “Yeah, your dad made sure we knew how much you love ice cream,” Adam grinned and Basim chuckled good-naturedly. After playing several noisy games of Scrabble, Pictionary and Battleship, Basim led them upstairs to change into their swimming clothes. They descended to the swimming pool, the boys dressed in capri pants and T-shirts while the girls wore water resistant tunics and pants with their scarves. The next hour was filled with fun as they played a few games in the water and laughed at the antics of Hassan and Hakeem who swam like fishes.

  “They learned to swim when they were really young,” Layla said proudly. “They took to the water like…well…like fish to water,” she chuckled.

  The maid, Yasmin, appeared later with refreshments. The teeenagers and twins came out of the water and sat in the comfortable lounge chairs as they sipped cold lemonade and ate chicken samosas and slices of chocolate cake left over from lunch. The youths then went to the adjacent tennis court for a game while the twins played hide and seek among the trees. The girls remained supine on the lounge chairs as they conversed.

  “Grandpa won’t be too happy when he hears that Mrs. Basri knows about the Shaykh’s visit,” Layla remarked. “I heard Maymun say that Mrs. Basri is one of the worst gossips in the city. She’ll probably tell a whole lot of people about it. And then they will ask Grandpa about it.”

  “Well, at least they won’t know why the Shaykh came,” Zahra said. But her assumption would be proven wrong as they were to find out shortly.

  Later that evening, they took their leave of the Ahmeds. It turned out to be a pretty fun day after all, Zaid thought as they piled into the limousine. The unpleasant incident of last night had receded to the back of his mind during their visit but as they headed for home, Zaid felt a little of his melancholia return. Nassif drove in silence, the limousine eating up the dark stretches of road until it entered the gates of Bayan House and drew up to the courtyard. Adam thanked Nassif, who nodded slightly and drove off. Mr. Horani opened the door for them, his face bearing a perturbed expression.

  Zaid grew uneasy when he sent the twins upstairs and asked the teenagers to come to his study. They looked at one another in silent alarm as they followed him. What had happened now? In the study, Mr. Horani picked up an envelope from his desk and said in a strained voice, “I want to apologize to you. I was wrong to suspect you of putting up that poster in the cellar.”

  They stared at him in surprise until Adam said, “Do you know who did it then?”

  Mr. Horani shook his head. “No, but take a look at this.” He pulled out a thick, folded paper from the envelope and held it out.

  Adam took the paper from his grandfather and with the others gathered around him, opened it slowly. Zaid’s breath hissed out in surprise as he stared at the paper in Adam’s hand. It was a poster of skull and crossbones, similar to the ones found in the turret. At the bottom, printed in large handwritten letters, it warned, Do not look for the Moon of Masarrah or its curse will come upon you.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Layla exclaimed. “Where did this come from?”

  “It came with the mail. Someone must have found out why the Shaykh was here and decided to play a practical joke. They must have gotten into the cellar by the door Abbas uses and now they have sent this,” Mr. Horani gestured to the paper.

  “But how could they have gotten hold of the poster from the turret?” Adam asked.

  “Oh, those posters are on sale at many of the curio shops by the waterfront. They’re a dirham a dozen.”

  “Whoever put it there must have heard about the Shaykh’s visit from Mrs. Basri,” Layla said, going on to tell her grandfather what Basim had told them.

  Mr. Horani sighed. “I don’t know what they mean by this since I’m not searching for the diamond anymore. And even if I was, I wouldn’t be deterred by some superstitious nonsense.”

  Chapter Eight:

  A Picnic and a Journal

  At breakfast the next morning, a remorseful Mr. Horani suggested that they use the rented bikes to go on a picnic in Bayan Meadow that afternoon. He went on to tell them that Maymun had been relieved that they had been exonerated of blame for the poster in the cellar, and that she would be happy to prepare a nice picnic basket for them.

  “That’s great, Grandpa,” Layla said enthusiastically. “It looks like a lovely day for a picnic.” They all expressed their delight at the idea and Mr. Horani left the dining room with a pleased expression, which was a change from the grim look he had worn since the poster had been discovered in the cellar.

  Later that morning, they met in Moss Haven to discuss the implications of the warning that Mr. Horani had received. As soon as she entered the shack, Layla burst out, “Guess what? Just before I came here, I went up to the turret to check the skull and crossbones posters. There had been five of them total but when I counted them just now,” she paused dramatically, “there were only four!”

  “What?” Zahra exclaimed. “How could that be?”

  “Well,” Adam said slowly, “it could be that the poster in the cellar didn’t come from a curio shop but from the turret. And it was put there by someone who has access to the house.”

  “Someone who knows that we’re searching for the Moon and is trying to scare us off, so they can look for it themselves,” Zaid said.

  “But the only people who have access to the house are Luqman and Maymun,” Zahra said in bewilderment.

  “They’re not the only ones,” Layla said. “Abbas has a key, which means that both him and Mir have access too. One of them could have done it.”

  “But how could they have known about the Moon?” Zahra asked in bafflement.

  “That’s easy,” Adam said. “Abbas was in the courtyard parking his Land Rover when I answered the doorbell and let the Shaykh in that day. He could have eavesdropped by the open window at the side of the house. And he could have told Mir, who must have eavesdropped on us at the library when we were reading up on the Moon.”

  “I noticed that one of the books Mir dropped was titled How to find the Hidden,” Zaid said. “That’s very suspicious, if you ask me.”

  “Golly, I never thought we’d have competition in looking for the Moon,” Layla said. “I think it’s Mir. It’s hard to believe that Abbas could do such a low-down thing.”

  “Good men do bad things sometimes,” Zaid said. “Especially when a lot of money is at stake.”

  “Are we going to continue the search?” Zahra asked.

  “Absolutely,” Adam said firmly. “No one’s going to scare us away. After we come back from the picnic to Bayan Meadow, we’ll continue searching in the turret.”

  Zahra said softly, “Maybe Abbas or Mir could have overheard us talking here at Moss Haven about looking for the Moon.”

  “Yikes,” Layla said in dismay. “You’re right. We haven’t been very smart at all.”

  Adam scrambled over to the door, opened it and peered around outside. “No one there now,” he said. “From now on, we’re going to leave the door open to make sure no one comes creeping up.”

 
That afternoon, under clear blue skies and the warm embrace of a golden sun, the teenagers mounted their bikes and set off for Bayan Meadow, laden with bags of goodies that Maymun had prepared for them. Out of the gates they pedaled and onto the roadway, Hassan and Hakeem comfortably ensconced in their carrier seats with their legs tucked under them. The little boys had been beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of a bike ride. They wore rapt looks on their faces as they chattered nineteen to the dozen and searched the air for Gul.

  With a flapping of wings, the bird swooped down in front of them, hovering in the wind as it stared at them out of bright, beady eyes.

  “Gul’s coming to the picnic with us,” Hakeem cried joyfully.

  “Goodbye, food,” Layla said with mock dismay. “That bird will take us for all we’ve got.”

  “I’m sure he’ll find some juicy worms and tasty bugs to nibble on,” Adam grinned.

  “Yuck, that’s gross,” Layla made a face. “Don’t spoil my appetite.”

  They rode at a leisurely pace, past verdant fields and orchards abundant with trees, and roadsides adorned with colorful patches of wildflowers which relieved the monotony of the gray and green landscape around them. Gul flapped along beside them, letting out a companionable squawk now and then as if to remind them of its presence and occasionally riding an updraft of wind to soar above their heads.

  Bayan Meadow turned out to be a cosy green dell overlooking the bay. The grass was short and well kept, with clumps of aromatic white jasmine scattered here and there. The bay was tranquil that afternoon, with gentle-cresting waves rippling across its smooth blue surface. In the distance, a few sailboats undulated on the troughs, their massive sails billowing in the wind. Overhead, the gulls and curlews were acting out their own drama, shrieking wildly as they dipped and glided in constant motion. In contrast, colorful gossamer-winged butterflies flitted quietly around the meadow, alighting every now and then on a delicate flower. Zaid noticed a conical ant hill in one corner, with an army of ants moving around like cars on a busy street. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths of air, which bore the scent of jasmine, flavored with salt from the bay.