Baqir looked as if he would refuse, then unexpectedly he said, ‘Why not? Saddle your mare.’
Jahani’s wooden side-saddle was still at Lake Saiful Maluk, but Baqir didn’t comment on her riding Chandi astride. They trotted along the river with Yazan following some distance behind and reined their horses at a flower field similar to the one Azhar had taken Jahani to visit. ‘It is so beautiful here,’ she whispered. A flock of sheep grazed peacefully and children ran around, playing with goats. She giggled at a tiny child in a felt hat learning to walk. In the distance, a young man and his dog watched over them all. They must be nomads, she thought, like the group they passed on the way to Naran.
Baqir clenched and unclenched his fingers as he surveyed the scene. ‘So this is how it began and now how it ends.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing, just the ramblings of an old man.’ Then he said, ‘I know you think the wedding is too soon. Your mother told me.’
She wondered how Hafeezah knew, then she realised he meant Zarah. ‘I meant no disrespect.’
‘You were right.’
Jahani looked at Baqir keenly.
‘But there is nothing I can do to change it. Muzahid has an army and he has promised protection for this valley which, in turn, will help the whole Kingdom of Kaghan.
‘Protection from whom?’
‘Dagar Khan. He wants to take the northern kingdoms. Kaghan included. He says it will be good for trade to be under his rule – but I think it will only be good for Dagar Khan. He wants to be the undisputed mir of the north and have access to the Silk Route, but his methods do not serve the people.’
Jahani’s heart beat faster at the mention of Dagar Khan. ‘But why is he doing this?’
‘Power, I suppose. He is truly a Demon King as people say. All landowners now have to keep their own forces or we risk losing our lands.’
So, she should be safe with Muzahid, but there was something else she needed to know. Before she could stop herself, she asked, ‘But Bapa, why does Muzahid want me?’
Baqir regarded her. ‘Any man would. But Muzahid was quite honest. He said he heard you were beautiful with red hair and blue eyes. This combination is rare. He even asked about your age. He wanted a young bride. You are everything he was looking for.’
‘But how did he find out about me?’
Baqir frowned. ‘I do not know. A servant spoke in the bazaar perhaps.’
‘And he will protect Naran – that’s his bride price?’
‘Ji. And, even more importantly, he will protect you.’
She flicked her slipping dupatta over her head. ‘Which is why you accepted.’
Baqir tilted his head.
‘I still don’t understand why I should be targeted, and I don’t want protection either. I can protect myself.’
Baqir smiled, but it was so condescending she had to bite down a retort. ‘Every woman needs protecting, especially ones who look like you.’ He reached across and laid his hand on hers. ‘If I have acted hastily, forgive me. I hadn’t seen you when I made the arrangement. Now, I also would like more time with you.’ He looked away over the field. ‘Your mother didn’t want the match. She has sorely missed you and expected a few summers with you, at least, but no one else could help us with Dagar Khan. He is ruthlessly moving through these kingdoms. If not checked, he will take us all. Our kingdoms are too small to withstand an army with a cavalry like his and we are also too small to attract the notice of the emperor. Dagar Khan divides loyalties, burns villages and creates havoc, so mirs will surrender to save their people.’
‘Why don’t all the kingdoms band together against him?’
‘Why indeed. I wonder how it could be done. But our kingdoms are all so solitary and isolated here in the mountains.’
‘Will Muzahid love me since he asked for me in particular?’
Baqir frowned, but he didn’t berate her forwardness. ‘I think you will have a good life, beti. He is wealthy – you will want for nothing. There is no one more suitable in Kaghan.’ His words were said without enthusiasm.
Jahani bowed her head. ‘Thank you for telling me, Bapa. I will try to be a good daughter and a good wife.’
Baqir regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You have turned out better than I thought you would.’
A dog barked and more sheep poured onto the field.
‘Ao, I am hungry. Let’s return for breakfast.’ Baqir wheeled his mount toward the stables and galloped up the rise, Jahani and Chandi close behind with Yazan bounding ahead of them.
It helped a little to know why the marriage was arranged. Indeed, princesses from larger kingdoms had to marry princes from other kingdoms or even the Mughal emperor himself to keep peace in the land. Even Sameela’s marriage would have joined two ancient families and two districts together. She was doing nothing less. So, am I the one to save Naran?
Late that evening, when Jahani stepped barefoot into the courtyard to fetch a candle, she heard Zarah and Baqir talking in the divan room. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Zarah’s voice was raised and it was impossible not to hear that something was amiss.
‘How could you be so thoughtless in accepting the marriage proposal? We’ve only just got her back.’ Zarah sounded close to tears. ‘Don’t you remember what it’s been like, worrying about who wants her dead and why?’
‘She will be safe now. You needn’t worry anymore.’
‘Safety isn’t a good enough reason for marriage.’ Zarah’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘You’ve never cared. You sent her away, wouldn’t let me visit, made sure she thought Hafeezah was her mother and tried to make me forget. But I will never forget her.’
‘It would have been unsettling for her. I never thought we’d be able to bring her back.’
‘She’s unsettled now. She doesn’t know where she fits and only cares for Hafeezah, following her customs, not ours.’ Her tone became placatory. ‘You must withdraw your assent. I wouldn’t normally ask, but Muzahid Baig? What were you thinking sentencing her to a life with him? He’s a barbaric war lord, and an especially cruel one at that.’
Jahani stifled a gasp.
‘Zarah, do you think I had a choice? I cannot stop the wedding any more than stop the monsoon. Muzahid’s retaliation would be swift indeed.’
‘So, she’s to be the sacrificial goat. Baqir, she’s our daughter!’
‘Is she?’ Baqir’s voice lowered and Jahani held her breath to hear. ‘Zarah, is she our daughter?’
‘How dare you say that? After all we’ve been through. All these summers of protecting her and not being able to see her.’
‘Zarah, why don’t you tell her?’ There was a short silence. ‘Isn’t it why Azhar brought her here?’
Azhar?
Jahani couldn’t help herself; she pushed through the curtain and saw them standing in the middle of the room. They stared at her, mouths agape. She walked in and stood before them, pulling her shawl tightly around her. ‘Tell me what?’ Jahani demanded.
Zarah hissed at Baqir, ‘See what you have done?’
Baqir groaned. ‘I am sorry.’ He took a step toward Jahani. ‘I didn’t want you to find out like this.’ He reached toward her but she ignored him. She felt frozen inside.
Jahani clamped her gaze on Zarah. ‘Tell me what?’ she repeated.
Zarah began to weep. ‘Forgive me, beti.’
Jahani didn’t ask what there was to forgive. Nothing mattered now except the truth. ‘What did Bapa mean when he asked if I was your daughter?’
Zarah shook her head and dabbed at her face with her dupatta. ‘I loved you as a mother, please understand.’ She lifted her face to Jahani’s. ‘You were barely four, just old enough to talk.’ She gulped on a sob. ‘Such a beautiful child.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Jahani, more confused than ever. ‘What are you talking about?’
Baqir put a warning hand on Zarah’s shoulder. ‘Don’t say another word!’
‘So beautiful. I wanted
you for my daughter. But we are not your parents.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jahani exclaimed.
Zarah gave a shuddering sigh.
‘Tell me the truth,’ Jahani pleaded. ‘Who are my parents?’
Suddenly Zarah’s sob went silent. ‘The … the nomads,’ she whispered.
Jahani glanced at Baqir shaking his head. ‘This doesn’t make sense. Nomads? I’m a gypsy? How did this happen?’ Even as she said it she saw the little dress that Hafeezah had shown her just after Sameela had died, with the blue and silver threads and the embroidered peacock feather. And she knew it came not from Zarah but from the nomads.
‘How—’ Jahani couldn’t even voice the question.
Zarah made a sound like a baby animal. ‘They came here to feed their sheep when it was too hot in the plains. I saw you with them. You had that red hair and fair skin that some of them have, but on you it looked special, even in your ragged clothes.’ She gazed at Jahani through her tears. ‘They were being bullied by a … a war lord.’ She narrowed her eyes at Baqir. ‘He wanted protection money they didn’t have, but they knew I wanted you.’
‘They sold me?’ Jahani’s resolve broke and she slid to the floor.
Zarah sank down next to her. ‘You have to understand,’ she pleaded. ‘It wasn’t like that. It was a matter of life and death to them – one child to save a whole community. The war lord would not have accepted Baqir paying him off on their behalf. He held the nomad chieftain’s son to ransom. He could have easily killed him, so they sold us their land, received the money to rescue the chief’s son and I got you – the biggest prize of all.’
Zarah took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘We could raise you, don’t you see? We could educate you, give you things you would never have had.’ She stopped. ‘At least that’s what I thought at the time. I thought I was giving you a chance in life.’ Tears dribbled down her face. ‘It was only later that I felt an overwhelming guilt,’ her voice squeaked on the word, ‘that I shouldn’t have taken you from the nomads. Perhaps you would have been safer with them.’
Jahani sat staring at the floor. Zarah’s words and images from her dreams whirled in her mind but she could make no sense of them. ‘Did Hafeezah know this, too?’
Zarah shook her head. ‘Nay, she came to work for me later.’
‘When would you have told me? Don’t you think it is important to know who we really are?’ Jahani’s voice rose.
Baqir gave her a sharp look. ‘I regret that you are finding out the truth like this, Jahani,’ he finally said, ‘but I am sure we would have told you soon.’ He frowned at Zarah.
Jahani wasn’t in a mood to accept apologies. A nomad? Despite all of her dreams, she would never have imagined that. The nomads were looked down upon, moving from place to place. Zarah had tried to give her a normal life, tried to be her mother, but was this why Jahani recalled so little about life as her daughter?
Zarah gave Jahani a tentative smile, but Jahani couldn’t return it. All her senses seemed to have fled as she stood, numbness creeping up her legs. She needed to lie down before she fell. ‘Thank you for looking after me, Zarah jan.’ She looked at Baqir. How good it had felt at first to have a father, even though she’d come to realise he cared little for her. Whispers of abandonment swept into her mind and, before she wept, she ran from the room.
19
Naran Kingdom of Kaghan
The boy rode his horse through the mist and did not see her sitting by the roadside. She ran after him, but he couldn’t hear her. The leopard walked beside his horse. It couldn’t hear her either. Was she really there? Then a man threw knives at her. Wherever she went, he was there with a fistful of them: she could never escape. If she climbed a mountain, he was on a ridge; if she swam in a lake, he was in the water; if she walked through a forest, he was climbing the trees. Waiting for her. He followed her like the winter wind, his knives icicles in her back. She hid in a field of midnight wildflowers, watching the way she’d come, crying for her mother.
This was the image that stayed with Jahani as she woke. She ran into Hafeezah’s room and knelt by her charpai. Hafeezah was still sleeping so Jahani watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Hafeezah’s hand was cupped under her face as she always slept. Her lashes quivered, and Hafeezah opened her eyes to find Jahani staring at her.
‘You looked so peaceful,’ Jahani said.
‘Why are you here so early? Did you have a dream?’
Jahani inclined her head.
‘Come here.’
Wrapped in Hafeezah’s arms, Jahani told her all that Baqir and Zarah had said. ‘It is too much. Now I know why I feel so little for Zarah and Baqir. I’m sure I could feel more if given time, but I’m not sure I want to anymore.’ She tightened her arm around Hafeezah. ‘You are my only mother and yet now I find I am a nomad. I feel I am stranded in an unknown place and I’ll never find my way or know who I am. Why isn’t anyone telling me the truth?’
Hafeezah didn’t answer that. ‘With this marriage, you can start afresh, make your own family. Make new traditions.’
Her evasive words only made Jahani more frustrated. Didn’t Hafeezah hear Jahani relate Zarah’s misgivings about Muzahid? She pulled out of Hafeezah’s embrace. ‘I only want your traditions, Ammi. What if Muzahid denies me that?’ Then in her mind she saw an image of a young man with dark hair on a horse, watching her. She remembered yearning to ride with the nomads when she saw them on the road to Naran. ‘What if my true family is still in the nomad camp?’
Hafeezah’s hand tightened around Jahani’s shoulder. ‘You will become the mother of your own children. I look forward to seeing them.’
‘But I will always wonder who I am and who my real mother and father are. Shouldn’t I go to the nomads and find out?’
Hafeezah kissed her on the forehead. ‘Muzahid wouldn’t want you visiting their camp.’
Jahani barely hid her annoyance. Already Muzahid was controlling her life and they weren’t even married.
‘Zarah and Baqir are still your legal parents. They adopted you.’
‘But I don’t know them.’ Jahani stood and paced around the charpai. ‘I feel uneasy in the same room with both of them together. They’re like a pair of dogs circling a bone with an eye on each other.’ She bit her lip and sat again. ‘There’s more that I haven’t told you. Remember the bazaar dog when I was small and we met Sameela?’
Hafeezah gave a small nod.
‘I think the same thing has happened with Chandi. And Yazan. I know what Chandi and Yazan want – even what they are thinking.’
Hafeezah lowered her voice. ‘Do not tell anyone else of this. Only a few people can do such things and others will not understand. They may think you are someone you might not want to be.’
‘But who? Who is this someone? I feel there is a task I must do, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe if I find that person I will know.’
‘You are young and many girls feel restless and fearful before their weddings. It is the shutting of one door and the opening of another.’
‘Ammi, I don’t believe you. Another door won’t open. One will shut and I will be in the dark, crying for you.’ Jahani burst into tears.
‘Chup,’ soothed Hafeezah. She rocked Jahani gently, crooning her name until her tears fell no more.
Later Jahani took Yazan to walk alone in the fields, and it wasn’t long before they came across the nomads performing their daily chores again. Jahani and Yazan sat in the shade where they wouldn’t be noticed. She stroked Yazan while watching the shepherds minding goats and sheep, young lads talking together and women collecting wood and chopping vegetables in colourful clothes. The girls’ embroidered dresses looked just like her little dress and would have been beautiful when new. They wore silver jewellery in their noses and ears and their dupattas hung loosely down their backs, revealing their faces and hundreds of plaits in their hair. Jahani looked at the animals and noticed the sheep had red streaks on their backs; they remin
ded her of the flock they’d seen when first setting out on their journey. That day had been the beginning of an adventure where she would find out about her family, yet still she knew little. Would she want to travel for the rest of her life as the nomads did? What would it be like living in tents for moons at a time?
So this is how it began and now how it ends. Baqir’s words from yesterday morning echoed in her mind. At least now she understood what he meant: she had come with them; now they were here again and she would be married and leave.
A white dog bounded over, sniffing as if saying hello. Yazan gave a low warning growl, but the dog didn’t retreat. It sat a short distance away, its tongue lolling as though it was happy to see Jahani. Suddenly a young man whistled and Jahani caught her breath – it was the very same man she saw when they started their journey almost two moons ago.
As the dog sidled up to him, Jahani watched the man. He was striking with his dark hair and moustache. But was it only his looks that drew her to him?
When she arrived back at the house, a storm was brewing. Dark clouds banked up, speeding toward them from the mountains.
Zarah rushed to Jahani in a flurry. ‘Where were you? We couldn’t find you.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I went for a walk.’
‘Where did you go? Was Yazan with you?’
‘Ji, we went to the fields and watched the nomads.’
Zarah took her hand. ‘Please understand. You were too young for us to be able to explain it to you when you left. And most people never tell their children if they are adopted.’
‘You may not have told me?’
‘I didn’t think it was necessary. You have a better life now. And it’s going to get much better. This week you will stay in the house for the wedding festivities. You will sit in old clothes, as a symbol of your old life ending, while Hafeezah and I pamper you with beauty treatments. It will be a happy time for you. No one except us and other ladies will be able to see you.’ She put a tentative hand on Jahani’s shoulder. ‘Do you forgive me?’
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