The Jealous

by Laury Silvers

  The guard looked at Mustafa oddly, the way some people did when they heard him using his mother’s nasab, ‘son of Zaytuna’, and left it out when he introduced him, “Ghazi Ammar, Imam Mustafa al-Jarrari is here to see you.”

  Tein looked up at hearing his name, stood and came forward quickly. “Is anything wrong? Why are you here?”

  Mustafa stepped forward past the guard, nodding to him in thanks, then addressed Tein, “No. Nothing! Alhamdulillah. I have information for you.”

  Tein nodded with relief and said to Ammar, “This is Mustafa.”

  “How have we never met?” Ammar stepped forward. “I heard stories about you late at night when we were camped along the frontier.”

  Tein went to the far side of the room and indicated to Mustafa to sit on the main couch where he had been sitting a few moments earlier.

  “Information?” Tein prompted.

  Mustafa nodded, and brought himself to the task at hand. “The girl you are holding for the death of Imam Hashim. Do you know what her life was like with him?”

  “Yes,” Tein said. “She told us. She was his slave and he used her…”

  Mustafa interrupted, somewhat harshly, “It was more than you suspect.”

  Tein leaned forward.

  “I know she was his slave and should expect,” Mustafa stammered, “expect him to have intercourse with her as he liked. But this was different. She’s a pious girl. She prayed for hours on end. Even when he had called her to bed, she would not go but remained in prayer. Any decent man would respect her piety and leave her alone.” Mustafa’s face began to turn red. “Walla, he should have been grateful for the blessings such a slave would bring to his household!” He stopped to collect himself before going on. “My apologies, I find this man so abhorrent. He is a stain on the scholarly community.”

  Ammar himself sat forward. “What happened?”

  “The Imam took her from the prayer rug. He took her while she was in prostration.” Mustafa looked at Ammar, who he could see wondered how he had this information. “He admitted all this in court.”

  “Wait, this went to religious court?”

  “Yes.” Mustafa continued, “His treatment of her was so bestial that one day when she was in the marketplace she stopped a legal scholar and complained to him about it, begging him to bring a complaint to court on her behalf. The man, may God reward him for his good character, is Abu Mubarak Sherwan Ibn as-Salah al-Kurdi. He filed a complaint claiming physical harm and prevention from worship.”

  Tein drew in a sharp breath. Mustafa turned to him, saw the worry on his face, and said, “You see why I had to come.”

  Tein nodded.

  “What else?” Ammar asked.

  “Imam Hashim admitted it all as his right established in law. Ibn Salah countered that the harm was not permitted. He also argued that due to her great piety and the harm already done to her, that Imam Hashim should release her.”

  “And the judgment?”

  “The judge was not sympathetic. He was a friend of Imam Hashim.”

  “Was this in the district of Karkh?”

  “Yes.”

  Ammar stood up. “So Qadi Abu Burhan’s court.” He turned to Tein, “You haven’t had to deal with him yet. He’s the religious court judge for the district of Karkh. If there’s a case involving family disputes or contracts, Ibn Marwan sends the people involved to handle that part of the case there. You know exactly how he’s going to rule every time.” He turned to Mustafa, “Didn’t Ibn Salah know about him? Why would be bring the case before him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mustafa,” Tein asked, “what happened in court?”

  “Abu Burhan agreed that it was Imam Hashim’s right. His opinion was that while injunctions to release pious slaves were well-meaning,” Mustafa paused, looking out the open door, his eyes unfocused on what was beyond it. “Well-meaning. He described God’s call for us to release slaves about whom we know any good well-meaning.” He shook his head and turned back to Ammar, “He ruled that these ‘pious injunctions’ are not legally binding. In other words, Imam Hashim did not have to sell the girl.”

  “Was this case held in public?” Tein interjected.

  “Oh yes.” Mustafa said, “I understand, there was a great deal of criticism leveled at both Imam Hashim and Qadi Abu Burhan.”

  Tein turned to Ammar, “There must be people who wanted to see him punished. And what about his wife? Have we even considered that she would want him dead for humiliating her in public? Or frame Mu’mina for the humiliation?”

  Ammar ignored him. “What about the harm to the girl?”

  “Oh there!” Mustafa exclaimed. “He instructed her to pray her obligatory prayers on time, and to ask Imam Hashim’s permission before praying supplemental prayers, so he could use her for his needs without interrupting her in the future,” he explained bitterly.

  Ammar looked pained. “She certainly had just cause to kill him.”

  “So did others!” Tein interrupted.

  Mustafa replied to Ammar, “I understand that religious scholars are divided on whether or not a slave is to be executed for murder, but the Police Chief should know that she killed him in self-defence. That should only be the blood price.”

  “You don’t understand.” Ammar leaned in. “The Police Chief is under no obligation to take anything you religious scholars say about the law into account. So he’ll decide what he wants to do with her. And what you think of as ‘self-defence’ will only read to him as motive. What you’ve said makes it more likely that the Police Chief will accept her confession as intentional murder and she’d be executed.”

  “Oh.” Mustafa’s head sank.

  “Right now, the case is going to him as an unclear confession of intentional murder or a confession of unintentional murder. The Chief will decide which. I’ve seen people go free. I’ve seen the blood price ordered. But he could also execute, even on unintentional murder. I wasn’t here when this happened, but…”

  Tein interrupted, “Even on an unintentional killing?”

  “Listen.” Ammar said, “A man was guiding another man who was blind and not watching where he was going. The blind man stepped on a sleeping beggar, wounding him and the wound ultimately killed him. The Police Chief was going to let them both off with a blood-price, but someone who wanted the blind man dead whispered in his ear. He let the guide off and not only convicted, but executed the blind man for murder.”

  “Someone whispered in his ear!”

  Ammar took a harsh tone, “Tein, you don’t like Ibn Marwan, but this is why he only sends clear-cut cases to the Chief. Every ruling is the Chief’s discretion.” Ammar turned back to Mustafa, “I have to ask you, why do you care?”

  “Because of what was done to her.” Mustafa looked to Tein, afraid he would disapprove, but said it anyway, “Because of who did it to her. How can the people trust the scholars of this community if we do not hold a beast in our midst to account? Everything depends on the righteousness of our character.” He paused. “Abu Burhan’s son, Burhan, threatened to destroy my reputation if I stood up on matters such as this. These animals must not be the bearers of our faith.”

  “I agree with you there,” said Ammar.

  Tein asked Mustafa, “If it comes out that you helped Mu’mina? What then?”

  He answered with a confidence he did not feel, “It is in God’s hands. I must do what is right.” Then the resolution came to him. It was the only way to help her and to bring Abu Burhan to account, he said, “Her case must be adjudicated in a religious court!”

  “The crime happened in Karkh,” Ammar scoffed. “That’s Abu Burhan’s jurisdiction. I would imagine he’d look forward to seeing the girl punished if your account of the trial is correct.”

  “I mean another court,” Mustafa shook his head. “Abu Burhan’s treatment of her in the first place must be exposed as well!”

  Tein sat up.

  Ammar said, “I’d not be sorry to see
one of you elite pieces of shit brought low in one of their own courts.”

  Mustafa’s face burned at the insult.

  “He doesn’t mean the likes of you, Mustafa.” Tein pleaded with Ammar, “Come on, this man is my brother.”

  Ammar did not reply.

  Mustafa put a hand to his face, embarrassed that his offence showed so easily, but felt he must defend himself. “I assure you…”

  “Mustafa.” Tein stopped him.

  He nodded, taking the correction. “Please, Ghazi Ammar. Please send the case to a different religious court. It is the only way to see these scholars punished.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Ammar laughed at him. “We don’t transfer cases to the religious courts. The police only arrest the political cases of heresy and deliver the defendant to the Chief Judge’s office at the Mazalim High Court. Like I said before, if a case has non-criminal elements, we advise people to seek arbitration or petition the lesser religious courts themselves on those matters. We don’t bring cases to them. It’ll have to be petitioned by an outsider.”

  Mustafa felt embarrassed again; he should have known.

  “And if you can get the case to religious court, be prepared. You think they won’t use all their connections against you?” Ammar looked Mustafa up and down. “I’m not sure you have the stomach for that.”

  At this further insult, Mustafa stood, crossed the room to Ammar, and looked down on him with his hands tight at his side. “I will go speak to Ibn Salah today on this matter.”

  Tein stood and put his arm around him. Mustafa acknowledged it and gratefully took a step back.

  “If it gets moved to a religious court,” Tein said to Ammar, “that would at least give us time to prove she’s innocent. We can start by stopping at the hospital to speak to the doctor about poisons on our way to Baratha today. You told them we’d be coming for it. It won’t take much time.”

  Ammar put his hands on his knees and stood, saying to Mustafa, “Fine, see if you can get the case moved.” Then to Tein, “Since it’s on the way to my parents, I’ll do this one thing for you. If that corpse washer friend of your sister’s is there, I can ask her a few questions. You’ll see how this adds up against the girl, Tein. The rest is on your head.” Ammar pointed his finger at Tein, making sure he understood. “I’m doing this for your sake, on the honour of our friendship. The girl is guilty enough to be prosecuted one way or another and I’ll prove it to you.”

  Mustafa stood suddenly in his relief and turned to Tein who looked angry at Ammar, but grasped Mustafa’s arm, nodding all the same. Tein said, “We have what we need to keep investigating.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The hospital guard was no better than a boy with a decent scrap of turban on his head and a beard just filling in. He stood wide-legged and eyes sharp as if he were waiting for a riot to come over the Hospital Bridge. Ammar gestured to Tein as they walked up. “Look at this one. Ready for anything.” The guard caught sight of them and looked afraid. Ammar was in his leather cuirass, that any one could see had been well-used in battle and that he had placed his hand with intent on the hilt of his sword. Tein rolled his eyes at Ammar’s posturing and tried to look friendly as they approached; but he saw the boy had begun to shake visibly, his face draining of colour.

  Ammar said loudly enough for the boy to hear, “I wonder what this one has been up to?”

  Assuring him as they approached, Tein followed up, “Don’t worry, we’re not here for you. We’re here to see Doctor Judah ibn Isa, please get someone to tell him that the police from the Grave Crimes Section are here.”

  The boy ran off inside the hospital, leaving the door unguarded.

  “What was that?” Tein asked as they entered, heading for the courtyard.

  “What was what? Look Tein, let’s make this fast. I don’t want us to be late to take my mother to the mosque and you don’t want to miss your best meal of the week.”

  The breeze picked up speed in the arched vestibule, sending cold air through the central courtyard. Tein shivered and crossed his arms. The doctor didn’t come immediately, so Tein settled himself against the wall in the sun, looking down the long courtyard, wondering if Saliha was there.

  The guard didn’t return. Instead, a young Jewish doctor dressed in a blue robe, matching turban, and zunnar belt returned. “Doctor Judah is with a patient and cannot meet with you immediately. He’s asked me to get the pharmacist to come and speak with you.”

  He gestured to them to sit on one of the benches surrounding the fountain and the lemon and bitter orange trees. Tein remained standing in the sun, but Ammar sat on the bench in the shade. He looked at Tein like he was a fool. “You’ll catch a chill going in and out of the sun like that.”

  Tein ignored him and kept an eye on the back of the hospital. An older black man came out of the back, walking directly to them. Was this the pharmacist? The man was tall and slim, with a red turban matching his red patterned, quilted robe over deep brown wool qamis and sirwal. He wore expensive boots and his belt was made of finely tooled matching brown leather. As he approached, he rolled down the narrow sleeves of his robe. Tein admired how he walked slowly and with purpose and unconsciously tugged at his own robe.

  “Assalamu alaykum, I am Firdaws ibn Ali ibn Sahl at-Tabari, the pharmacist.”

  “Waalaykum as-salam, Ammar at-Tabbani, and this is my colleague Tein ibn al-Ashiqa as-Sawda.”

  The man nodded in Tein’s direction, smiling. “The famed ecstatic was your mother?”

  “Yes.” Tein’s heart skipped that a man such as this knew her.

  “I was a young man when I saw her preach. I have never forgotten.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Tein. “I remember now, there was a boy circling the crowd, watching out. I was impressed with the focus of his observation. That was you. Fitting that you came to be police given your experience in observation and inclination to protect. I walked by that graveyard many times, hoping to see her again, but I never did. How is she? I would be honoured to visit her if she would permit it.”

  Tein lowered his eyes. “May God have mercy on her soul. She died many years ago.”

  “May God protect her secret.”

  Ammar added, looking between the two of them, “Amin.”

  Ibn Ali nodded. “Doctor Judah explained the situation to me. I wish I’d had a chance to see the body before he was taken out. The doctor’s account was sufficiently detailed to give an opinion, but no more. You would like to know if the man could have died from poisoning or as the side effect of some substance he may have been exposed to?”

  “Yes.” Ammar answered.

  “Several substances could have produced such symptoms, including greater sensitivity to bruising. I am inclined to believe the man was beaten, given the eye injury, and exclude that as a symptom from my assessment. Doctor Judah tells me that there was no burning around his mouth or excess salivation, although,” he closed his eyes in obvious frustration, “he neglected to check the anus for burning as a suppository might have been used. I understand neither was there vomiting.” He said firmly, “Given the facts to hand, I would suggest belladonna as the primary agent, although other substances may have been involved. It is readily available from a pharmacist or herbalist in the marketplace or could be found growing wild for that matter.”

  Tein stood straight, his shoulder back, and his legs apart, and tipped his head with respect to Ibn Ali as he asked, “How easy would it be to give him belladonna without him knowing? Or could he have been given it in error?”

  “A simple matter. Ten to twenty of the dried or fresh berries, or two to three of the leaves, ground into spiced food would pass unnoticed.”

  Ammar asked, “And how quickly would it work.”

  “Immediately. I would suggest that your culprit was with him right before he died.”

  Tein looked at Ammar. That would mean it came from his home. It could have been Mu’mina, but it also could have been anyone.

&nb
sp; “Is it used for anything else?” Ammar asked, “Is there any reason they would have had it at home, and he took it in error?”

  “In very small doses it is used for nausea, vomiting, and other digestive ailments, as well as some respiratory difficulties. A poultice can be used on the skin to relieve localized pain. It is also employed with other herbs for seizures, sometimes for sleep, although there are other, better choices. If anyone in his home suffered from one of these ailments, they might have had it readily available. His wife may have used it in drop form to dilate her pupils, although why she would do that rather than using kohl for the same seductive effect, I would not know.”

  Tein said to Ibn Ali, as a way of saying to Ammar, “Then anyone in his home that morning could have given him the poison. It is only for us to look for motives.”

  “I understand that the accused enslaved girl used a talisman from a Turkmen cursewriter. Belladonna is used in some ritual ceremonies meant to induce visions. I am not familiar with the use among Turkmen shamans. It is possible that the cursewriter gave the enslaved girl the poison herself.”

  Tein gritted his teeth, wishing he had not said anything.

  Ammar turned to Tein, “See, it still falls back to her.”

  An objection was nearly out of Tein’s mouth when Judah came out of a nearby ward, wiping his hands dry on a cloth. He snuck a quick look at Tein and addressed Ammar, “Good morning. Has Ibn Ali explained everything?”

  Ammar nodded. “Yes, thank you, we have…”

  “I brought Ibn Ali up to speed,” Judah interrupted. “He agrees with me that barring the involvement of an ifrit, we suspect he was most likely exposed to a poison that caused hallucinations, difficulty breathing, chest pain, and sensitivity to bruising.”

  Tein glanced at Ibn Ali, but the man’s face was passive as if his rank had not just been belittled and his findings mischaracterized.

  “Of course, it is up to you to find out if it was accidental or purposeful and, if purposeful, who would have given it to him.”