Rabih Alameddine - The Hakawati

The high judge’s next letter said only, “My sister?”

Othman’s wedding lasted three days, with King Saleh and his entire court attending. Baybars set up a feast to end all feasts for his friend, and even the Africans and Uzbeks celebrated and congratulated their companion. Finally, when the wedding night arrived, the couple retired to their room, leaving behind a heckling party.

“Reveal yourself to me.” Othman knelt before his wife on one knee. “Show your beauty, my life.” Layla took off her marriage veil, and a dazzled Othman wept. “If I prayed to Lady Zainab every second of my life, I would not be able to show how grateful I am. If I offered my life in gratitude, it would not suffice. You are the most lovely being ever to have graced my miserable life. I am humbled by your charms.”

“And you, my husband, are most eloquent,” Layla said. “Come.”

She pulled him to her and kissed him with a passion that surprised him. She undressed him while he fumbled with her knots. She laid him on the bed, his head on the pillow, and continued kissing him. He tried to remove her robe. “Relax,” she whispered from above. Soon she descended upon him. He unleashed a cry of ecstasy that mingled with the laughter in the halls outside their room. “You are my husband,” she said. “Mine.” And she poked and pinched places he did not know existed. His next cry was of joy mixed with pain.

“Wait,” he shouted, but she did not.

“No,” he said, but he did not mean it.

“But,” Othman said, “you are not a virgin.”

Her face registered surprise. “I never claimed to be.”

“No,” he said. “No. That cannot be. Lady Zainab picked you for me.”

“So?”

“Only the devout pray at the shrine.”

“Do not be foolish,” she said. “I have been praying all my life. What has virginity got to do with it? Do you not remember me?” She pulled up her left sleeve and showed him the brand. “I thought that was why you married me.”

“Oh, no,” he moaned. “What kind of dove were you?”

“Luscious,” she said, affronted. “Please.”

“My life is over. I will be the mockery of every man in Egypt.”

“You will be the envy of every man in Egypt.”

“I was supposed to marry a virgin.”

“And you were not supposed to be one.”

“Do not whisper of it to anyone,” he pleaded.

“You are my husband,” she said. “Your shame is my shame, and mine is yours. I will never betray you, and you will never betray me. We share honor.”

Othman covered his eyes. “I am being punished for all the wrongs I have committed.”

“Punished?” Layla asked, aghast. “You think marrying me is punishment? Keep thinking that and I will show you what actual punishment is. If you ever consider that I am not your ideal partner, even if the thought only crosses your mind, I will turn your life into a nightmare. You will think you are in the seventh circle of hell, married to Afreet-Jehanam. Punishment, bah. I am Layla, your ideal wife, your perfect love. Practice saying it every moment of your life. Lady Zainab offered you to me. She is never wrong. You are the perfect man for me.”

“But you are not what I asked for,” Othman objected.

“What you asked for? Has it occurred to you that the Lady was answering my prayers, not yours? I did not ask for a husband. I prayed for a companion, a partner, someone to share my joy. I had given up my profession, and I was bored. I asked Lady Zainab to point out a friend who could make me laugh, who could tell me stories, who could take me on an adventure. And she appeared before me. ‘Listen to me, my daughter,’ she said. ‘You have served me well and brought me joy. I will reward you with your ideal husband. He is God’s servant, and was one long before his vows to me. He is a trickster and serves to bring a smile to His face. If your future husband can polish the dust off God’s heart, surely yours will glimmer for eternity.’ ”

“She said that?”

“And your mother approached me as the Lady ended her speech. You are the answer to my prayers. I do not know whether I am the answer to yours, but you had better believe that I am, for my prayers require that you love me and make me happy, and it shall be so.”

Othman’s smile appeared slowly, and then the frown returned.

“How can I face the morning with a clean sheet?” he asked.

She closed her cinnamon eyes and shook her head. “You are childish and have much to learn.” She took his left hand. She kissed it, drew her dagger, and held it before him. “They want to witness the blood of a virgin. We can give it to them.” He nodded, gave her permission. She made a shallow cut in his wrist. She kissed him. “Bleed for me, my husband.” She kissed him again. “I mark you as you have marked me.”

The emir’s wife threw a tantrum. She threw every glass item in the chamber at the wall. The emir tried to mollify her. Whiz went a perfume bottle flying across the room.

“Calm down, my dear,” the emir said. “You are not being rational.”

Splash, as another perfume bottle shattered against the scented wall. “Rational?” his wife shrieked. “You expect me to be rational when my son is involved?”

“Well, break something besides perfume bottles. It is suffocating in here. You are overreacting, my dear.”

“He called that woman mama. His first words, and he directed them not to me but to her. My son thinks the servant is his mother. I will not have it.”

“Trouble yourself not, my dear. It is only temporary. Do you think our boy — or anyone, for that matter — could believe that he, a divine creature, sprang forth from a slave? She spends more time with him. Do you want to be the one changing his diaper? Be patient. It will not be long before he begins to understand the way of the world and a servant’s place in it.”

“Even his sisters cannot play with him. He howls whenever one of them approaches. He prefers to play with those infernal parrots. I am going to pluck each one of those birds feather by feather — pluck, pluck, pluck, pluck, pluck.”

“Not yet, darling. You tried to keep them apart for a while, and what happened?”

“He crawled right back to that woman and her baby, shrieking his lungs out until he reached them.”

“And no one could hold the little devil back,” the emir said. “My son takes after me, so strong and powerful.”

“I am going to poison that ungrateful wench and watch her die. A lingering, deliberate poison I shall use, until suffering seeps out of her pores.”

“No, my dear. Wait another year, until Shams is more independent, and then poison her.”

“Pluck me?” screeched Job. “I will pluck her eyes out.”

Shams crawled behind Layl on the carpet, his head almost attached to his twin’s behind.

“Pluck,” said Jacob. “Pluck, pluck. That is what she said.”

Fatima rested. She lounged on the divan, her head settled on three fluffy pillows of ostrich feathers.

“Listen, listen,” said Ishmael. “That was not the best part of the tantrum.”

“She means to poison Fatima,” said Isaac.

Fatima laughed into her pillows. All eight parrots cackled, Job so hard he fell off the backrest onto the floor, his two feet sticking up in the air and his feathers shaking in mirth. The cacophony of merriment surprised and amused the twin boys. They looked around them and joined the laughter.

“I will get rid of her,” said Ezra. “I will transport her to another domain.”

“No need,” said Adam. “An asp will pay her fornicating whoriness a visit tonight. She boasts about poison, and it will be delivered.”