Part 2 (1/2)
”What are friends for if not to support a poor widowed sister in time of need?” another guest said sympathetically, to be interrupted by an impish and rather breathless laugh.
”Has he brought home another one yet, Samira?”
The group pa.s.sed through the garden wall and from my sight.
Which returned me to my original dilemma of escaping the cat. Except that the cat was no longer on my clothing. From behind me a languid voice said laughingly, ”If you plan to stay in there until we're the same color, you'll be there a long time, my friend. I'd forget it, if I were you. Aman Akbar likes variety in his love life.”
I swirled around in the water, stubbing my toe against the metal animal, and the same ebony hand I had seen the night before reached down to a.s.sist me.
Even to those accustomed to the sight of black women-which I was not-Amollia is striking in both beauty and bearing. She is tall and straight as one of the pillars supporting the palace and black as a shadow on a starry night. She and her cat carry their heads with similarly proud and half-amused bearing. Her eyes seem to say she has seen everything, has been neither impressed nor disappointed by it, and is looking forward to seeing more. That day she was wrapped with a cloth the color of curry, heavily embroidered with gold and wore her own weight in jewelry on her neck, arms, ankles and ears. Her hair was short and curled like the fleece of a black lamb.
Ignoring her hand, I stood, s.n.a.t.c.hed up my clothing, pulled my robe over my head and stepped across the edge of the pool. The cat made no move to stop me.
”Who are you?” I demanded. ”What are you doing in my husband's house?”
”I might ask you the same thing,” she said, the tips of her teeth showing dazzlingly white against the dark plum color of her lips. ”But that would only complicate matters unnecessarily. I am Amollia Melee, daughter of the Great Elephant of the Swazee, wife to Aman Akbar. I take it that you are my co-wife. Welcome, sister.”
And she opened her arms to embrace me. I failed to understand her att.i.tude. I didn't feel in the least like embracing her.
My lack of enthusiasm did not deter her. ”Have you eaten?” she asked. ”Wait-let me guess. Leftover k.u.mquats and cold rice, right? I've made do with the same fare on the nights he spends with you. It's possible he just forgets about everything but what he's doing at the time, or it may be his strange idea of economy. He's frugal in his way, is Aman. Must get it from his mother, I suppose. She She, however-” she stopped and gave a brief, dainty lick combined with a sidelong look at me. ”I suppose you are are interested in something fresh, hot, and tasty to eat, are you not?” interested in something fresh, hot, and tasty to eat, are you not?”
I nodded.
”Aman says you are a warrior. Are you very brave?” A demon probably not too distant a relative from the djinn played in her eyes.
I shrugged and watched her warily.
”Very well. Come along. We'll tackle the lioness unarmed. She has a mean mouth but she feeds it well. Perhaps she can be shamed into feeding ours too.”
Curiosity warred with pride and won out. ”How came you to know so much about this household?” I asked.
”About the old one and about you? Is that what you mean? Why, Aman told me, of course.” And did not tell me. That stung like the bite of an enemy's arrow. ”He introduced me to the old woman and-ah-that's why he didn't introduce you you to her. She was not what you would call ready to welcome me into the bosom of the family. As for you, Aman discussed the matter with me before deciding to bring you here.” to her. She was not what you would call ready to welcome me into the bosom of the family. As for you, Aman discussed the matter with me before deciding to bring you here.”
”He did?”
”a.s.suredly. I told him I didn't want to have to put up with that cranky old woman and this great big house all by myself. Besides, what would people think, a man of his stature having just one wife? What if he wishes to entertain somewhere outside the palace? With no slaves or servants in our employ, who would help me with the work? And anyway-” she sighed and looked at me with a pleased and even fond expression ”-I am the one hundred and thirty-fifth daughter of the Great Elephant and used to having all of my sisters and all of my mothers around me. With Aman gone during the day and no one but my leopard Kalimba for company, that old woman drives me mad with her silence. I am most glad to have you here. I would have sought you out sooner, but Aman said he felt it would be best for you two to get to know one another first, and for you to grow accustomed to your new surroundings before you met me... particularly before you met his mother. But I think he would have prolonged the time of dealing with us separately as long as possible.”
”Why?” I asked, feeling distinctly disoriented all over again.
”Because men don't like for the women to compare stories, of course. One at a time, they stand a chance of cajoling or browbeating us into letting them have their way in all things, but when we join together, there's very little in which they dare oppose us. Still, Aman is a good man, a kind husband. And he has that that mother to contend with, so we must be extra loving and patient with him. If we do not handle her properly, she will be the scourge of our lives. So, if you're quite ready?” And she linked her arm with my reluctant one and together we crossed my garden and hers, through another gate into yet a third garden where the women were a.s.sembled by a charcoal brazier from which emanated succulent smells. mother to contend with, so we must be extra loving and patient with him. If we do not handle her properly, she will be the scourge of our lives. So, if you're quite ready?” And she linked her arm with my reluctant one and together we crossed my garden and hers, through another gate into yet a third garden where the women were a.s.sembled by a charcoal brazier from which emanated succulent smells.
I knew open warfare already from my life among my own people. From Amollia I learned subterfuge. A common foe makes allies of the most unlikely persons.
As we neared the group, Amollia's n.o.ble stride shortened to a demure shuffle and her proud chin bent into her neck, so that she gazed humbly at the ground. I followed her example and together we stood with seeming timidity on the outskirts of the group.
One of the women t.i.ttered behind her hand and Um Aman glared in our direction. A benefit of casting one's eyes downward is that one thus deflects the full impact of such a glare.
Perhaps Um Aman realized this, for she said, ”These strange-looking creatures are the very harlots my son has brought as concubines into the home he built for my old age.”
”I understand from my Faisal that Aman claims to have two foreign wives wives, Samira,” said the eldest among them-the one our revered mother-in-law had addressed as Khadija.
”Have you been invited to the wedding, you who are my oldest friend?” Um Aman replied bitterly.
A number of children clung to the skirts of the behind-the-hand t.i.tterer, an understandably weary-looking young woman. A girl of perhaps four years with a great quant.i.ty of the contents of her nose smeared across her cheek said, ”Mama, why are those ladies so ugly ugly?”
”Hush, child, or they'll put the evil eye on you,” her mother whispered, enveloping the child in her tattered and dirty skirts, effectively cleaning the face and shutting it up at the same time.
”It's true though,” another of the younger women observed critically. ”They are ugly. Um Aman, I'm surprised that a man like Aman Akbar has no better taste than to marry a woman so dark and one with a nose like that!”
Um Aman immediately turned on her. ”And where did you learn so much of taste? My Aman has most splendid taste-look at this palace! I've heard the former King's favorite wife was very dark, and if you ask me, the nose on that washed-out strumpet is her best feature. Aman says they're both princesses too. Better born than any of us.” Though she said this with rather perverse pride, she stabbed us with another glare. ”They'd better not give themselves airs around me, though. I won't have it.”
”They don't say much, do they?” the third of the younger women, a plump-cheeked and saucy sort, remarked. ”Do they talk at all?”
At this a rather plain woman whose long braided hair was liberally streaked with gray looked up from her embroidery. High in one cheek a dimple winked encouragingly as she smiled directly at us. ”Would you talk, Miriam, with everyone making such rude comments about you? Is this how we repay Samira's hospitality, insulting her son's new wives? Poor things, so far from their homes. Their mothers must miss them terribly.” She turned to Um Aman and said gravely, ”It doesn't seem to me that they're giving themselves airs, Samira. Quite the contrary. They seem very modest and shy and quite cowed. People who don't know you often fail to realize what a kind heart you have, my dear.” She smiled at us again and Amollia modestly, shyly, and in a cowed manner licked her lips and allowed the most delicate droplet of drool to form at the corner of her mouth. ”They're hungry too,” our defender told Um Aman.
Um Aman's gaze, formerly fierce, dropped abruptly and she leaned across to the platter containing the couscous. With a sharp straightening of her elbow, she proffered it without looking at us.
Thus we partook of hot food rather than leftovers and met those women with whom Um Aman shared her problems. The only other interesting fact about the encounter was that Um Aman kept referring to us throughout as Aman Akbar's concubines and insisted that he had no wives until he had taken his cousin to wife.
The party ended just before mid-afternoon prayers. By that time everyone had had an opportunity to discuss other ungrateful children with whom they were acquainted, and Um Aman seemed to feel much better. Amollia rose to her feet and with a soft jingle of jeweled limbs headed for the gate leading back to her garden. I followed quickly. Aman Akbar could be coming home any time now. And tonight if he followed his previous pattern he would be looking to stay with me.
Amollia walked straight through her own garden and trailed the departing visitors into mine.
”Pardon my intrusion, sister-wife,” she said pleasantly. ”But I thought I would at least greet our husband with you this evening. He should know now that we two are acquainted. I think we should also speak to him about having the magic feasts shared between us so that one of us need not make do with leftovers when he lies with the other.” She smiled. ”This is one advantage of having co-wives. Together we may perhaps exert more influence over our husband than either of us might do individually.”
Aman Akbar, however, had his own ideas about his family banding together. Amollia and I posed companionably, sitting side by side on the edge of the fountain, pretending not to notice when the metal beast started spouting as our husband entered the garden. The cat spread across Amollia's feet, kneading its claws in and out while she told me some of the jokes the minstrels from neighboring kingdoms told of her father, the Great Elephant. Her former home sounded merry and exciting compared to mine and I found I laughed more often than I wanted to and began to wonder why Aman Akbar had summoned me to wife when he already had such an amusing creature on the premises.
Aman entered the garden and greeted us, taking one of each of our hands in each of his and kissing them in turn before seating himself on Amollia's far side. He twinkled uncertainly at us. ”So,” he said. ”So.”
”Even so, husband,” Amollia smiled. ”Rasa and I have been discussing our household and thought we would greet you together this night. How has your day gone?”
”Well, thanks be to G.o.d,” he said, taking refuge in the formula. ”And yours?”
”Well, indeed. We joined your honored mother and her friends in her garden this afternoon and profited much from her wisdom.”
”You did?” He tried to sound pleased and incredulous at once but the incredulity had a decided edge over the pleasure.
”Indeed,” I said. ”She is a very fine cook, your mother.” I thought I was being pleasant too by failing to mention that she was also a very disagreeable woman, but the twinkle in our husband's eyes was extinguished in two rapid blinks.
”Good,” he said. ”Good. I'm glad you're all getting on so well.”
”As a matter of fact, husband, Rasa and I were thinking that perhaps if it would not tax the magic of your bottle too much, we would like to be able to share our dinners with you so that-”
He blinked once more and smiled his most dazzlingly tender smile. ”What a wonderful idea, my clever darling. We shall all eat together. Shall we sup here in the garden? Afterward, I think the djinn shall entertain us with a new surprise I've been considering.”