by Farah Zaman
She observed the comings and goings of the castle’s servants. How like busy bees they are, flitting about their hive. She watched with interest as Qais, Shaykh Sulaiman’s nurse, strolled out and seated himself under an olive tree on the opposite side of the courtyard. He must have come out for some fresh air and sunlight. The only times they ever saw him was in Shaykh Sulaiman’s suite or in the gym. They had also ran into Dr. Hakam, the Shaykh’s doctor, twice in the Shaykh’s suite.
Ten minutes later, Qais stood up and headed back into the castle. For such a hefty man, he was surprisingly quiet on his feet. As she stared at his retreating back, Layla could not help thinking what a misfit he seemed as a nurse with his wide shoulders and massive hands. His size was useful for helping Shaykh Sulaiman with therapy, but Qais still seemed like an unknown quantity. Was he just a simple nurse, or was there more to him than met the eye?
She was still pondering that question when Jumana came striding out into the courtyard. The older woman was wearing a midnight-blue dress with a light-blue scarf, and a pair of sensible shoes. There was no trace of the limp from yesterday. Her face bore a reflective expression, as if her mind was preoccupied with some grave matter. She did not notice Layla under the olive tree. She was walking towards the orchard.
Should I follow her? Maybe I could pump her for information about her argument with Rashid. Now is the perfect time to tackle her. As Jumana neared the orchard, Layla got to her feet and strode towards the green wall of trees. Once she was among the trees, Layla trod quietly. It was much cooler under the shady branches and she listened with pleasure to the chirping of birds as she strolled along. She saw a flash of blue ahead and knew she was on the right track.
Jumana walked all the way to the Garden of Dreams and sat on one of the white stone benches under the cypresses. Concealed behind a fragrant clump of blooming white jasmine, Layla had a clear view of her. She watched as Jumana took out a letter from her pocket and began to read. It must have been a short letter for only moments later she tucked it back into her pocket. Then she covered her face with the palms of her hands and bowed over as if in pain.
It took Layla a few moments to realize that Jumana was crying, her body shaking with silent sobs. Layla stared in dismay at the weeping woman. She knew it was an invasion of privacy to watch Jumana. She just could not bring herself to leave. There was some mystery here and she meant to find out what it was.
When Jumana finally sat up and dabbed at her eyes with the tail of her scarf, Layla walked towards her. “Hello, Jumana.”
Jumana looked startled. “Oh Layla, it’s you.”
“Feeling better?”
Jumana looked embarrassed. “I guess you saw me wallowing in self-pity.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just needed to get some things out of my system.”
“And have you gotten them out?”
Jumana stared unseeingly at the beautiful roses. “I don’t know. Only time will tell.”
“You were crying about Rashid, weren’t you?”
Jumana stared now at the engagement ring on her finger. “Yes.”
“You loved him very much, didn’t you?”
“I thought we were soulmates. I felt I was the most blessed woman on earth when we got engaged. But then it all started to go wrong.”
“How did it go wrong?”
Jumana sighed. “It’s a long story. And you’re too young to hear my troubles.”
“Try me,” said Layla. “I’ve been told I’m very mature for my age. People think I’m older than I am.”
Jumana gave a watery smile. “What, they think you’re thirteen when you’re twelve?”
“I’m fourteen.” Layla’s voice was indignant. “But I could pass for sixteen.”
“Still too young. Besides, it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I read a lot and have a good head for language,” said Layla. “If I can understand Shakespeare, methinks perchance I wilt understand thou.”
Jumana gave a reluctant chuckle. “You’re a very persuasive young lady. Maybe it will help if I talk to you. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my family. Neither could I confide in anyone here. If I tell you my story, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
Layla concealed her smile of triumph. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“Come, sit here.” Jumana patted the space next to her. After Layla sat down, Jumana said, “The nightmare began with the theft of my bracelet and the suicide of Tariq’s tutor.”
“Yes, Tariq told us about that.”
“It was a horrid shock, as you can imagine. Especially Lamis’s claim that Rashid had broken his promise to marry her. I knew it wasn’t true, but as the weeks passed by, I began to notice a change in Rashid. He seemed ill at ease when I came to the castle. As our wedding came nearer, he was so distant and distracted that I was ensnared by the evil whisperer. I started to think that maybe Lamis had told the truth in that letter. Maybe Rashid had wanted to marry her and Uncle Sulaiman didn’t approve.”
“Tariq told us Rashid had eyes for only you,” said Layla.
“Believe me, I was ashamed of those thoughts and tried my best to chase them away. But on my last visit here, a few days before Rashid died and five weeks before our wedding, he asked me to meet him in the courtyard. When I came, he told me he wished to delay the wedding. After I got over the shock, I asked him why. He said he needed more time. That was the last straw. I told him it was obvious he no longer wanted to marry me and to consider our engagement broken.”
Jumana’s eyes filled with tears again and she dabbed at them with her scarf.
“That’s the argument you had in the courtyard?”
“Yes, the servants are too observant.”
“What happened after you told Rashid you were breaking the engagement?”
“He told me not to make any hasty decisions, that all he wanted was more time. I told him I would give him ten days. After that time, he would either agree to the appointed wedding date or tell me the real reason why he wanted to delay it. If he did neither, then I would announce our engagement was broken.”
“What did he say to that?”
“From his face, I could see the struggle going on inside him. In the end he agreed, and we left the courtyard. I didn’t see any point in remaining at the castle. I went back home the next day. Within a few days, we got news of his death. The strain was too much for me. I took to my bed, unable to come and console Uncle Sulaiman and the family. I feel a little better now. But I’m still in the dark why Rashid wanted to postpone our wedding. It’s been bothering me ever since.”
“You have no idea what it could be?”
“None at all. We would have been married by now had everything gone according to plan. But our faith teaches us not to speculate on what might or might not have been. I must face reality and move on. Come, we should go back now. It’s becoming quite hot.”
“Is your leg better now? I noticed you limping yesterday.”
“I fell from my horse and banged my knee several years ago. I get little twinges now and then.”
After she and Jumana parted ways, Layla went straight up to the cool comfort of her room. Grabbing a bottle of mango juice from the fridge, she flopped down on the sofa and contemplated what she had heard in the Garden of Dreams. Had Jumana spoken the truth? If so, why had Rashid wanted to delay the wedding? Was that what he had been telling Tariq that night? If it was, why hadn’t he told Jumana?
Layla suddenly remembered the letter she had seen Jumana reading. The distraught woman had not made mention of it and Layla had quite forgotten about it during their conversation. Who had the letter been from? Had it been responsible for Jumana’s storm of tears? Layla’s instinct told her Jumana had been truthful. And genuinely heartbroken over Rashid’s death. She could not
have been involved.
Perhaps it had been a condolence letter? It’s a pity I couldn’t tell her about Tariq’s suspicion that Rashid was murdered. But we’ve promised him not to tell anyone. Now I’m bound by my promise not to reveal Jumana’s secret. If Jumana and Tariq could only confide in each other, perhaps we’d get some answers.
When they met in Zaid’s suite before lunch, he was the only one who had something of interest to report.
“When I was returning from the stables, I decided to take a walk by the lookout tower. To my surprise, I saw our maid, Nura, coming up the pathway. I wondered if she had been up to the tower. After she was out of sight, I went up. There were fresh incense stick ashes in the fireplace. She has to be the one lighting them.”
“She seems to have a fixation with the tower,” said Adam.
“Maybe she is the Woman in White,” said Zahra.
Layla felt guilty she was privy to information she could not share with the others. Throughout the afternoon, she tried to think of a way to get Tariq and Jumana to confide in each other, but to no avail. Little did she know her dilemma would be resolved that very evening and in the most unexpected way imaginable.
Chapter Twenty:
The Hooded Horseman
The teenagers were playing a board game in Layla’s suite that night when Tariq came by. The curly-haired youth was dressed in black and blue plaid pajamas. Layla felt a momentary twinge of fear. Had Tariq found another scorpion on his bed? But no, he seemed more thoughtful than terrified.
“You have something to tell us?” asked Adam.
“Yes. I remembered a bit more of what Uncle Rashid told me that night.”
“You did?” said Zahra. “Go on, tell us. I can’t bear the suspense.”
“He told me someone had been sending him anonymous letters.”
“Anonymous letters,” Layla exclaimed. “About what?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he told me. Or if he did, I don’t remember that part.”
“What made you remember it was anonymous letters?” asked Zaid.
“I was reading a book when all of a sudden it came to me.”
“Maybe someone was blackmailing him and he found out who it was,” said Adam. “And that’s why he was murdered. The blackmailer could have hired Al-Aqrab to commit the murder.”
“I can’t think why anyone would blackmail Uncle Rashid,” said Tariq. “He lived a quiet and useful life.”
“Hopefully something will come to light soon,” said Layla. “We’ll be on the lookout.”
After Tariq left, the teenagers continued their game. Fifteen minutes later, he was back, a frown of worry on his face.
“What’s wrong?” asked Layla.
“Jumana seems to be missing.”
“Missing?” said Adam. “How can that be?”
“When I went back to my suite, our butler Dhul Fikar, was talking to Aunt Ghazzy in the hallway. When I asked what happened, he said that at a quarter to nine, he saw Jum-Jum heading to the domed hall. She was wearing a shawl around her shoulders and it looked as if she was going outside. When she saw him, she told him to have the kitchen prepare a hot chocolate and send it up to her room at nine-thirty. At nine-thirty, Ramla, the maid who takes care of Jum-Jum’s suite, took the hot chocolate up. When she came back down, she said Jum-Jum wasn’t in her room, so she left the hot chocolate there. Dhul Fikar got worried, that’s why he went to Aunt Ghazzy. I told them Jum-Jum’s got to be around somewhere and we’ll look for her.”
“If she was going outside, maybe she went out with her car,” said Zaid.
“Let’s go look,” said Adam.
When they got to the forecourt, Jumana’s car was still there.
“If she didn’t go with her car, where could she have gone?” asked Zahra.
“Let’s go outside the gate and look around,” said Layla
Minutes later, they were outside the gate. Layla’s foot touched something soft. Stooping, she picked it up. “Look, it’s a shawl. It must have been the one Jumana was wearing. She must have dropped it.”
“Where could she be?” said Tariq in an anxious voice.
“Let’s spread out and see if we can find her,” said Zaid. “There’s enough moonlight for us to see by.”
They had just started off when Zahra gave a cry. “There she is. There’s Jumana.”
A feminine figure in long skirts came through the moonlight towards them. Layla recognized Jumana’s short, graceful strides.
Tariq rushed to her. “Jum-Jum, what are you doing out here? We were so worried.”
“I’m sorry.” Jumana’s voice was a thin thread. “I was very foolish to come outside.”
“What happened?” asked Zahra.
“I was kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?!” they all cried out.
“Yes. Fortunately, I was rescued.”
“Rescued? By whom?” asked Adam.
“By him,” she said in a bemused voice as she turned around and pointed to a limestone hill. The teenagers stared with wide eyes and open mouths. Beneath the lambent light of a gibbous moon, a hooded man sat on a horse. He looked down at them for a long moment before he turned and vanished from sight.
“The Hooded Horseman,” Tariq exclaimed. “You must tell us everything. I can’t believe you were in such danger.”
“What made you come look for me?”
“You were not in your room when Ramla took up the hot chocolate,” said Tariq. “Dhul Fikar got worried and went to tell Aunt Ghazzy. I told them we’ll find you.”
“Ah, the hot chocolate,” said Jumana. “Thank Allah for observant servants.”
“You must tell us what happened,” said Tariq.
“Alright, come to my room,” said Jumana.
When they returned to the castle, Dhul Fikar looked relieved when he saw Jumana.
“Tell Ghazzy I’m fine, Dhul Fikar,” said Jumana. “I just went out for a little while.”
They followed her back to her suite to listen to her story. As she sipped on what had to be lukewarm chocolate, she told them she had received a letter from an unknown person that morning.
“It said: ‘Come alone outside the gate at nine tonight. Have very important information about Rashid’s death. Don’t tell anyone or you’ll learn nothing.’ At the bottom it was signed, ‘From a Well-Wisher.’”
The letter she was reading in the garden.
“When I got there,” Jumana went on, “two men came out of the darkness and grabbed me. They put a gag over my mouth, tied my hands behind my back and blindfolded me. One of them picked me up and slung me up in front of him on a horse. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I prayed to be saved from an evil fate. We had ridden for some time when I heard cries of surprise from the men. The one whose horse I rode on dismounted, and the sounds of a fight came to my ears. I felt frightened and helpless and hoped the horse wouldn’t bolt. The fighting went on for about twenty minutes before everything went silent. Then someone came and untied my hands before removing my gag and blindfold.”
“What did you see?” asked Zahra.
“In the darkness, I saw a man wearing a hood, with only his eyes showing. There was no sign of the two men who had tried to kidnap me. I guess they must have run away. The hooded man had fought them in order to rescue me. I didn’t know how or why he came when he did but I thanked Allah. Then I thanked the hooded man.”
“What happened after that?” said Layla.
“I turned the horse around and started to ride back to the castle. He followed behind. When I came to that hill, I dismounted from the horse and left it there. The Hooded Man rode atop the hill so he could watch me walk back to safety. And here I am.”
“The stories about him rescuing people are true,” said Tariq. “We must let the police know about this kidnapping attempt. Those m
en must be caught.”
“Oh, no,” said Jumana. “I don’t want anyone to know of my foolishness. It’s absolutely mortifying.”
Though he argued with her, Tariq could not shake her resolve.
“Did you see what those two men looked like?” asked Adam.
“No, it was too dark to make out their features. They spoke in Domari, so I knew they were gypsy. The only words I understood were Dukhan Hills. I guess they were planning to hide me in the caves there.”
The young people stared at one another as the pieces fell into place.
“It’s the message from the cipher,” Zaid exclaimed. “Jumana was the bird to be caught, the gypsy men must be the catchers and the cage the Dukhan Hills.”
“It’s Al-Aqrab’s work,” Tariq burst out.
“What message are you talking about and what does a scorpion have to do with it?” said Jumana.
“It’s a long story,” said Tariq.
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Jumana. “Let me hear it.”
Layla gave a small smile of satisfaction. Her wish had been granted sooner than she had expected. Tariq and Jumana were going to confide in each other.
Tariq told his tale with the help of his new friends. Jumana listened, asking a question here and there for clarification. By the time Tariq finished, she was looking stunned.
“Rashid murdered? I can hardly believe it. I wanted answers, that’s why I went outside the gate tonight. I thought I might finally learn why he wanted to delay the wedding. But murder? How is that possible?”
“Uncle Rashid wanted to delay the wedding?” asked Tariq.
“Yes, that was the argument we had in the courtyard.”