by Lee Arthur
By me, I say, that no way may
The grind of grief remove
But still decay, both night and say:
Lo! what ft is to love.
Love is a fervent fire,
Kindled without desire
Short pleasure, long displeasure,
Repentance is the hire; payment
And pure treasure without measure
Love is a fervent fire.
To love and to be wise,
To rage with good advice,
Now thus, now that, so goes the game
Uncertain is the dice.
There is no man, I say, that can
Both love and, too, be wise.
Free always from the snare;
Learn from me to beware:
It is all pain and double share
Of endless woe and care;
For to refrain that danger plain
Flee always from the snare.
Lo! What it is to love!
Lo! What it is to love!
The snapping of towels against bare bottoms by the intrepid few who, waterlogged, had splashed and soaked their fill, brought the song to a close before it was fully launched on a second singing.
As the last of the slaves left the room, fresh shaved, hair cropped, clean domed, Ali ben Zaid did not accompany them. Instead, he paused at the side of a silent one who had been standing off to one side during the whole of the water-works.
"Satisfied?"
The head barely moved forward. "Still the blond one?"
For'a long moment, the head was motionless, then it nodded firmly. As Ali had known, when the Amira made up her mind, she did not easily change it.
CHAPTER 33
After leaving the slaves' crude bathing quarters, Aisha and Ali made their way out of the arena and toward the sybarite baths where Ramlah awaited her daughter for that night's ritual. Aisha, before leaving Ali at the entrance, gave her commands for the morrow. Then added, "About the slaves..."
"Yes?"
"Shave their bodies."
"Their bodies?"
"Yes."
"All?"
"All."
"Tonight?"
"No. It can wait. They wear loincloths the rest of the games. But I do not wish to see all that body hair again. It is offensive to me." Without waiting for Ali's "As you command," she swept into the baths. As swiftly as the baths permitted, she moved through the hot baths and into the tepid one that closes the pores and finally into the restroom where Ramlah whiled away her time with the nargileh and where Zainab was ready with the sweet melon slices, the dish of sherbet, the cup of mint tea. Aisha's body fairly shone from its scrubbings and oiling as she rested in the chair carved out of white marble, traced with gold and green veins. Compareu co her glowing, alive skin, the marble looked pale and dull.
The room was silent except for the sounds of water cascading in fountains and the occasional gurgle of the waterpipe as Ramlah puffed away. Then, the silence was broken by the voice of the hafiz. Aisha's lips tightened in annoyance, and she struck out pettishly at the nearest object. "Clumsy girl, you pull my hair," she said, slapping the young slave sharply. "Get out of my sight before I give you to the silent ones for their amusement. The rest of you. What do you gape at? Get back about your tasks. Zainab, you will finish my hair!",
Zairiab's own lips tightened. To work Aisha's hair into hundreds of braids took hours and exhausted hands, eyes, and back. But in the Amira's mood, Zainab knew better than to protest.
As she took the place of the slave, the hafiz, who had stopped reading when he'd heard Aisha's voice, cleared his throat and began anew. "Oh, you woman who would enter into marriage. Know you that like him who prays, you must be in a state of ritual purity from hadath; that you, your clothes, the bedding of your marriage couch, all must be free of uncleanness. So say the Ajwiba."
Aisha, of course, knew well her Islamic catechism, having first heard and studied portions of it as a young student in the Prince's School in Tunis. But tonight for the first time, she was to hear those teachings reserved for the bride-to-be. Determinedly, she ignored what she heard, instead rehearsing in her mind the route she planned to take four days hence; south to Sfax, home of the sponge-divers, and the opposite direction from that gorge near Redeyef and its sweet memories of what might have been. Thence to Gabes and the ancient chariot road leading into the Saharan nomad country, especially Matmata, those Berber tribes who had given up their perpetually wandering ways and settled underground. From there, she meant to travel to Medenine, region of the granaries of the ghorfas. And ' after that— Try as she might, the insidious voice of the hafiz intruded upon her concentration:
"Know you, woman, that there are two kinds of uncleanliness, a lesser hadath and a greater one. Know you, too, woman, that women are more susceptible to some hadath, men to others. But both to the causes of the lesser hadath which include: first, anything coming out of the rectum, and anything but semen from the genitals. Second, sleep, except that possible while sitting upright. Third, unconsciousness caused by anything, drunkenness, sickness, madness or faint. Fourth, touching the human pudenda with the inner palm or the fingers, but the back of the hand is lawful. Fifth, the coming together of the epidermi of man and woman who have reached the age of lustful desire. For any one of these, purification is necessary. And until purified, it is unlawful for you, woman, to pray, to listen to the Friday sermon, to touch the Holy Book, to carry the book or, if in Mecca, to circumambulate the sacred shrine. Remember this, woman, the morning after your wedding night. These five things are forbidden to you. But there is more.
Know you, too, that, in marrying, you are, as woman, subject more than men, to even greater hadath. Of these, there are six. The first is emission of semen, which may be recognized either by its actual ejaculation or by the presence of its smell, which when it is moist is like the smell of dough and when it is dry like the smell of white of egg.
The second is intercourse by the insertion of the penis into the vulva or anus, whether of human or animal, and occurs even if no semen descendeth. ' The third is childbirth.
The fourth menstruation, namely blood which comes from the vagina of any female who has known nine years or more and whose shortest course is a flow of a night and a day and whose longest is fifteen days. Rest assured, Allah who created female knows that usually it lasts six or seven days, but he knoweth, too, that women have their irregularities.
The fifth is also bloody. Afterbirth. Namely the blood which comes as a result of giving birth to a child, the shortest flow being of but a moment and the longest sixty days, though usually as Allah well knows, it lasts forty days. Know you, woman, that you who experience it and he who knows you during those days, both have experienced the greater hadath and need purifying. If you would save your man from uncleanliness, remind him that his tilth is resting and needs no plowing. So save you he from hadath.
The last, the sixth, comes to all and is death.
And for each of these, greater purification is necessary before, for the first three, eight things may be done: prayer, hearing the Holy Day sermon, touching or carrying the book, circling the sacred shrine, reading the Koran, tarrying in a mosque, even frequenting one. Menstruation and afterbirth render twelve things unlawful: the eight already mentioned and four more: fasting, divorce proceedings, marital intercourse and fondling between the navel and the knees. Know you all this for your sake and that of your husband."
The hafiz paused, having completed the first part of his exposition. Ramlah signaled for an attentive slave girl to bring him a fruit drink. She drank deep of her own goblet as did Aisha from the cup handed her by Zainab. The sharp taste that greeted her tongue told the princess that Zainab had personally mixed the beverage and had happened to include a generous portion of a heady wine. Aisha smiled fondly on her handmaiden and then on Ramlah who was, through her daughter, living through the pre-wedding ritual she had been denied as bride of the Moulay.
The hafiz, refreshed,
again took up his reading:
Know you, woman, that once known by man, you must perform the lesser purification or the greater depending upon your hadath. For the lesser, wudu is necessary: cleansing the teeth with the tooth stick, washing the palms of the hands, and the arms up to the elbow, the rinsing of the mouth, snuffling water up the nostrils, wiping the whole of the head, washing ears and face, wiping ears and face and the whole of the head, all with fresh water. If one is a man, one must finger comb the thick hair of beard and cheeks, if woman, the hair on her head and facial hair, if she has any, as well.
One should while performing the purification, say the creed: I bear witness that there is no God save Allah, the One who has no partner, and I bear witness that our Master, Mohammed, is servant and his apostle. Allahumma, make me one of those who repent, make me one of those who are purified. Glory be to Thee, Allahumma! so did our Master Mohammed teach us to praise Him."
Aisha gave a start as a sharp nail-cleaning stick penetrated too deeply under her cuticle. With a flip of her wrist, she punished the guilty one, cuffing the girl lightly and matter-of-factly, as would a lioness with an errant cub. Animal-like, the girl swiftly dipped forehead to floor, and uttered a low moan. The cuff had no more than momentarily stung; it was fear of banishment from the presence of the much-adored mistress that frightened the girl so. Absentmindedly, Aisha dismissed the child, meaning to summon her back later, but the princess forgot. Having abandoned her mental exercises about the trip, Aisha was too busy reviewing in her mind the day's events and the unusual spectacle she had planned for the morrow. As near as she could tell, all of her favorites had survived the tame, but potentially risky, camel contests. The crowd, however, had not found the relatively passive contests to its liking, having been spoiled by the bloody gladiator matches of the day before. Tomorrow, Aisha thought to herself, the crowd would experience the biggest surprise of the games. As would, she chuckled to herself, the hapless contestants.
Behind the screen, the hafiz drank. And again Ramlah directed her handmaid to light her waterpipe. Coughing, clearing his throat, humming and hawing, the hafiz began reading again:
For the greater purification, bathing the body with pure water is required. However, when water is unavailable, one must perform the tayammum, which is the use of sand on the face and hands and body to take the place of water. Know you that Allah in his mercy accepts that when water is needed for satisfying the thirst of a venerated animal, or when there is fear of harm arising from its use in case of sickness or wounds, sand makes a satisfactory substitute.
Know you, woman, that if you be desirous of being cleansed, your man must be also. For Allah although recognizing each to his own responsibility lays special stress on the wife and mother. Know you that if he who comes to your bed keeps not himself clean, you are neither. So must you practice istinja, and insist your man do the same. Thus the, cleaning of the anus or the genitals after every voiding of excrement, but not in the case of semen. For this, keep you water and stones nearby for the combination of the two is best. However, water is preferable if one must confine oneself to either. For if the istinja has been by means of stone, purification be conditional on five things. First, that the excrement not be allowed to dry or be transferred from the place where it came to rest, this includes staining of loin clothes. Second, that there be no foreign matter added thereto, so woman, I charge you, inspect your husband's piles for parasites and other grossness. Third, that the rub by the stone does not proceed beyond the orifice in question. It is not lawful to receive illicit pleasure from purification. Fourth, that it be a triple wiping, each one of which goes over the place with three clean stones or with three applications of one clean stone. And know you that if the cleansing is not accomplished by three applications, then as many more must be applied as will effect it. It is no matter that some trace be left which can only be removed by water or small pebbles for that is pardonable and you are charged with inspecting same and so seeing to it."
Aisha gagged at the thought of having to check a man's asshole for cleanliness, and each time he squatted, to inspect his dump for worms. With a thump the hafiz closed the book. The reading was over for the night, he wished his pay. Aisha could only pray that the games come to an end soon, and she escape this oppressive atmosphere for the clean air of southern Tunisia.
Ramlah had listened carefully to the hafiz readings and wondered if it were the uncleanliness and pollution of their wedding night that had affected the Moulay's mind. She sighed deeply. If only she, too, had had the benefit of these readings as had Aisha. However, such regrets fled her mind as eager hands dabbed and rubbed towels lightly over her body. Then other hands dressed her in delicately scented undergarments, a magnificent robe, and tiny sandals.
The same had been done for Aisha. So pleased was the daughter to be released from the hafiz's spell that she almost invited her mother to come and see the preparations for her wedding trip. Then, Aisha checked herself. The more who knew of it, the less long it would remain secretive. Not even Zainab had been admitted to the small pavilion where the scribes worked making lists and writing invitations and proclamations under Ali's direction. Regretfully, Aisha stifled the impulse as side by side, mother and daughter walked from the room, down the long tiled hall and out the front entrance of the magnificent Roman bath into the serenity of the night. As the two women approached the waiting litter in a glow of goodwill to the world, the stillness was shattered by an inhuman scream. The two women froze. Neither said a word. They didn't need to. Each knew what was in the other's mind: the Moulay was at play. To wish each other a good-night would have been facetious and factitious. Each knew the other would sleep only when the last of the Moulay's thirty-two playthings had uttered his final scream.
Of all the city of tents, only the slaves within their stone walls slept quietly unaware of the fate of the losers. All except de Wynter, who was the victim of his own nightmarish dreams. Gilliver, on the pallet nearby, stirred but kept silent when a low, familiar voice pleaded, "Drummond, don't go. Wait for me. I, too, am coming home."
CHAPTER 34
The next morning when ever fewer survivors came out from the now-dwindling tent-city of the contestants, they saw for themselves the source of last night's screams. The Moulay had decorated the entrance to the amphitheater with his handiwork: two red-raw bodies, skinned alive; a dozen corpses scorched and charred and blackened by fire; headless, armless, legless, sexless bodies propped in second tier archways spilling their guts down the now red-streaked pinkish stone walls. Neatly stacked to the left of the gateway were the missing arms, the legs piled to the right. Some of the heads had joined the now-picked-clean skulls of the deserters atop the classically beautiful Corinthian columns. Others were simply impaled on spikes. All stared, wide-eyed, straight ahead.
Trying not to look anywhere but at their feet, the contestants charged through the gate of the colosseum, their sandals clattering noisily on the stone floor of the ramp as they ran down to the dressing room below. Those in front had scarcely reached the room when they pulled up short and tried not to enter. But the mass behind prevented that. Those in the second and third rows, peering over the shoulders of the men ahead, saw that the room was not empty. Two of the contestants had preceded them and now sat silently on a bench on the other side of the room. Despite the noise, the commotion, those figures didn't move. They couldn't—pieces of straw protruded from eyes and mouth and nostrils and ears. There before them sat the ultimate example of the Moulay's perverted sense of humor two human skins stuffed with straw. Once word was passed, there was a wild melee as men fought to get out of the room and into the arena floor, to be joined shortly by the slaves.
What Aisha's purpose was in dreaming up today's outlandish contest, Ali ben Zaid feared to imagine. When he ventured to ask her, she only laughed. There was a hint in her laughter that reminded Ali uncomfortably of the Moulay. But then, so did the contest itself. Yesterday's events had made sense. Any man fit to wed the Amira
should be able to handle camels. But today's would prove little or nothing about these men who had already survived so much. Except perhaps that they could take a tremendous kick in the stomach. Poor devils, Ali thought, if they don't hate her now, they will before this day is through.
Trumpets, cymbals, and ram's horns called for silence. "Today," the Moulay's wazier announced, adjusting his white turban so that it perched on his head just so. "Today is ostrich day! With permission of our great and gracious Moulay Hassan, let the order of events be announced. The blessings of Allah be on him who competes."
Al wazier Yahiba, of Marrakesh, stepped forward, leaning on a walking stick. A magnificent white and pistachio green burnoose covered him from his hooded head to the tips of his yellow babouche-shod feet. The folds of his hood concealed his features from most. Only those directly in front of him made out the sharp nose, cruel mouth, and small black eyes.
His voice was harsh, his accent guttural, his words startling: "First, there will be a fight between two of the giant beasts who have been pestered, starved, and not watered for three days. Following this, an exhibition of lassoing the big birds from horseback, and of hunting them by an expert archer. All of this to give you contestants a foretaste of your fate later in the morning.
"Your first event of the day will be to lasso or otherwise bring under control any one ostrich from the wild ones unloosed in the arena. You will then break your bird for riding. Later there will be ostrich races in heats, with the heat winners meeting in the final race of the day to determine the champion.
"The fate of those who cannot catch an ostrich nor take one away from another contestant will be decided, as usual, by the rafi as’ sa'n, the Moulay Hassan. Let the blessings of Allah be on him who competes!"
The spectators sensed that this was going to be an exciting day. Most of them knew of the cantankerous nature of the great birds, of their fierce kick, which could knock a man over or break his bones. And there were stories, true or not, of their pecking the eyes out of a man's head. The audience chuckled and snickered—there would be many a bruised, scratched, and battered contestant before this day was over.