Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

Shekib watched but her ears tuned out the talking. She saw nervous glances, hot whispers, tongues clucking. There was pacing, head shaking and hot tea. Children walked in and were sent back out. Benafsha’s green eyes blurred behind tears. She pitied herself. She hated Sakina.

Shekib noticed something the others had not. A single red rose petal on the floor, trampled under the many slippers of the king’s concubines.

Shekib knew exactly whom Benafsha had welcomed into her bed.

Fatima’s condition improved. Benafsha’s worsened.

The harem was tense. Periodic updates were sent to the men outside. Nothing had been said yet about Benafsha, but it was just a matter of time. A matter of hours. Some of the more sensitive women had regressed into their own chambers, knowing the palace, the king, would not take Benafsha’s transgressions lightly. She had made a fatal mistake and they could do nothing for her.

No one wanted to break the news to the palace, fearing they would strike broadly at anyone remotely involved.

“Have mercy, please. Have mercy,” Benafsha whimpered in the corner. She was on her knees, her head touching the ground in supplication.

The guards and a few of the concubines had gathered outside her room. Fatima had been returned to her own chambers, Dr. Behrowen still at her side.

“It should be one of the guards,” Sakina decided. “You are the ones responsible for the happenings of the harem. It is your duty to report back to the palace what happens here.”

“What if we say nothing?” Nabila suggested meekly. “I am sure she will put an end to this sinful behavior after tonight. She looks as if she’s suffered enough now.”

“You would dare hide this from the king? And what if he comes to find out some other way? We will all be blamed!” Sakina said. “I can’t take that chance with my life.”

A few others nodded, agreeing with Sakina’s reasoning. What if the men outside had actually heard everything? What if they were going to report everything to the king? The harem had to be forthcoming if they were to save their own hides.

“Khanum Sakina, maybe it would go easier on the king’s ears if he were to hear it from someone he fancies. And since you were the one who made the discovery, I am sure he will reward you for sharing this with him and putting an end to such a shame,” Ghafoor said.

She is impressive, thought Shekib. She could have Bobo Shahgul’s blood in her veins.

“You are talking as if it is your first day in the palace. You know very well that you are the ones who report to the king’s people. We, women of the harem, are not to be involved in this discussion. I will not hide anything from my dear Habibullah but it is not my place to march up to his chambers and make such an announcement.”

Ghafoor chewed her lip and looked at Karim. She shook her head, having nothing to add to the argument. Ghafoor grew more nervous, knowing that, as leader of the guards, she was responsible for direct communications with the palace. The onus sat heavily on her shoulders. She could be rewarded for her service or she could be struck down for bearing such devastating news. She motioned with a subtle tilt of her head for the other guards to follow her into the foyer. A quick peek outside confirmed that the two men were idling by the far end of the courtyard, their backs to the harem.

“Karim, why don’t you and Qasim go and ask those men for a chance to speak with the king directly. It may be worse for this message to go through too many ears before reaching his.”

“With all due respect, Ghafoor- jan, ” Karim said facetiously, “since you have always been in charge of our troupe, this does not seem to be something you can delegate out like a night shift. Neither one of us would dare infringe on your responsibilities.”

“Nor us,” Tariq said, glancing at Shekib. She, too, felt the need to pair up with someone.

Ghafoor huffed. “Fine. Fine! Cowards. I’ll go and speak to them myself.” Her eyes betrayed her confidence. She paced the foyer for ten minutes before putting her hand on the doorknob.

Karim had her ear to the door, trying to listen in, but the voices in the courtyard were hushed. The guards looked at each other, paced and sighed frequently. Eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and conflict. When Karim cracked the door open ten minutes later, the courtyard was empty. They had taken Ghafoor to the palace.

An hour passed, painfully, before Ghafoor reappeared. Qasim and Karim had fallen asleep leaning against the foyer wall. Tariq sat near the door as if ready to make a quick escape. She tapped her foot nervously. Her eyelids were heavy and dark. Shekib sat against the wall opposite the sisters, her stomach uneasy. A house under stress had never boded well for her. She had no reason to believe she would emerge from this unscathed.

Ghafoor looked about nervously and took stock of the situation.

“How is Fatima?” she asked quietly, her eyes shifting around the room, hesitant to land on anyone in particular.

“She’s a little better. She’s had some tea with sugar and was talking for a bit. Now she’s fallen asleep. Dr. Behrowen left a few minutes ago. You probably passed her on the way here,” Tariq said, her voice as exhausted as her eyes.

“Good.”

“Aren’t you going to tell us what happened?” Karim asked impatiently.

“I spoke with the men outside and they took me back to Agha Ferooz, our king’s most trusted adviser. They did not want to disturb the king himself. I explained the situation and they are, of course, very upset. They notified the king.”

“And? What will happen now?” Qasim asked.

“He is angry. He wishes to speak with Shekib.”

Shekib was not in the least surprised.

“What is that they want to speak to me about?” Her tone was measured, even. It made Ghafoor nervous. She looked at the others while Shekib saw through her act.

She’s done something.

“How should I know?” she said defiantly. “They asked me who was on night duty tonight and I gave them an answer. I had better check on Khanum Fatima. There’s a soldier waiting outside, Shekib. He’ll escort you to the palace. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”

Shekib was sure that it was.

But she said nothing, staring at the back of Ghafoor’s bobbing head as she scampered down the hall, putting distance between them as quickly as she could.

The others watched her leave and then turned to Shekib. She said nothing but rose and walked to the door. As Ghafoor had promised, outside stood a soldier. A baby’s face in a man’s uniform. He looked nervous in the brisk dawn air. He motioned for her to follow, turning back once to steal a glance at her face.

He walked her to the palace’s heavy front doors, intricately carved and oddly inviting even at this moment. He opened the door and led her in, down one long hallway with ornate patterns on the walls, gilded pedestal tables and richly embroidered chairs. Shekib noticed her surroundings with vague interest.

“In this room,” he announced, and cracked the door open enough for her to enter. He stayed back and looked thankful that his duties ended there.

Shekib entered, remembering to keep her back straight and her eyes focused. Weariness was blurring her judgment as well as her vision.

In the room, King Habibullah paced behind a handsome wood-carved desk, his fingers pulling at the fringes of his beard. Two men sat anxiously in armchairs to his left, opposites of each other. One was heavyset and short, the other tall and lanky. Had Shekib been less nervous, she might have noticed how ridiculous they looked as a pair. They looked up at Shekib, their lips tightening.