Leila Aboulela - The Kindness of Enemies

When he put him down, gently in case he was dizzy, Shamil took out of his pocket a few pieces of dried fruit and gave them to Alexander. He turned to her and said, his Russian words carefully chosen, his accent familiar to her, ‘Would Anna Elinichna, Princess of Georgia, like some figs?’

She warmed to the way he addressed her. It had a meaning these days, in this place; it was necessary that who she was should be acknowledged. She liked figs too, but pride made her say, ‘No, thank you.’

Alexander wandered off with his mouth full. The fog thinned; he spotted the sentry and walked towards him.

‘Alexander and I have become friends,’ Shamil said.

‘Yes you have. In Georgia he used to hear that you eat Russian children.’

‘Raw or cooked?’

She smiled. ‘I am sure this particular rumour is untrue.’

‘What else have you heard about me?’

‘That you miraculously escaped more than once.’ She started to walk and he fell in step with her.

‘They are cumbersome and slow these Russians. Heavy-handed bombing, brute strength — that’s what they’re good at. But you are right. I escaped by the will of Allah Almighty; my abilities are not enough.’

‘Did you really jump over a line of soldiers who surrounded you, slashed two with your sword …’

‘Three,’ he corrected her.

‘… and then over a five-foot wall.’

‘Seven.’

‘With one leap?’

‘I was young then. What else?’

She flushed, sensing that she had been praising him and he was enjoying it. ‘That’s all. Do you keep your word?’

‘I do. And if my demands are met I will set you free.’

A coolness settled over her. He was reminding her of something she would rather have forgotten. But she was the one who had asked the question.

‘Does Anna, Princess of Georgia not believe me?’

She turned to look at him, beard, turban, worn-out coat; no weapons. ‘Yes, I believe you.’

‘Nothing has caused me so much pain as treachery. If the Russians would fight me honourably, I would not mind living the rest of my life in a state of war. But they tricked me; in Akhulgo they treated me like a criminal, not a warrior, and they sent my son far away to St Petersburg.’

She could imagine how he must have felt. It was not difficult. ‘My grandfather, George the twelfth, did not want to go to war. He did not want his children to live in a state of war. This is why he bequeathed Georgia to the tsar.’

‘Is that what you’ve been told? He had first wanted protection from the tsar but instead Georgia was annexed.’

‘For the sake of prosperity.’

‘Are you sure?’

As a child her instinct had been repelled by the loss of the Georgian throne; Georgia distinctive, whole, should not be swallowed up. Her questions were at first received with indulgent sighs and then disapproval — it was unbecoming for a young princess to express dissatisfaction with the king’s will. And so now she repeated to Shamil the answers she had received over the years. ‘My grandfather believed in progress. Progress meant following Russia. It meant education in the European manner. It meant change for the better.’

‘You do not sound convinced.’

‘My husband is more European than me. He often remarks that I am too Georgian, too traditional.’ She regretted the confidence immediately. It felt as if she had tripped.

He caught her in time. ‘Here in Dargo, you are more modern than any of us.’

She stopped walking. ‘I should not have said that about my husband. It was not my intention to sound disloyal.’

‘You are not disloyal.’

She nodded and moved briskly away, stumbled in the mist, scraped her shoulders against the wall, until she found the stairs.

In the evening Ameena tiptoed into her room. Her ankle bracelets jingled, the kohl rimmed around her eyes made them wider. ‘I will hide with you, Anna,’ she said. She had a gleeful smile on her face. It made her look like a child set on a prank. She drew the door behind her but left a crack open, flounced down on the floor and peered out. Anna joined her. She could see the entrance to Ameena’s room across the gallery. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Shush,’ giggled Ameena. ‘Wait and see.’

Anna saw Shamil approach Ameena’s room and knock on the door. Ameena shifted on her knees, breath held. Shamil stood in his long white coat, head bowed; he knocked again. Finding no response, he stood waiting at the door.

Anna whispered, ‘Why doesn’t he just walk in?’ The key was visible in the lock.

Ameena breathed in to supress a laugh. ‘He’s waiting for me to let him in.’

Time passed and yet there was no expression of impatience on Shamil’s face. He did not knock again on the door, he did not fidget or stamp his feet. Yet it must be cold to stand so still. Anna drew her shawl closer around her. She watch the breath come out of him like smoke.

‘I’m going to keep him waiting and waiting.’ Ameena’s voice was a pitch higher. Would he hear her, would he sense her? If so, Anna would rather she was not with Ameena, giving the false impression that she was her accomplice. She moved away from the door and went back to where she had been sitting on a cushion on the floor. Chairs were one of the things she missed but it no longer hurt her thighs to sit on the floor. Not like when she had first arrived — the pins and needles, the stiffness in standing up again.

Ameena turned and beckoned. Anna quickly took up her position behind the door again. She saw Shamil turn the key of the room but instead of unlocking it and walking in, he locked it, put the key in his pocket and walked in the opposite direction.

Ameena groaned. She was now locked out of her own room.

The following morning Alexander insisted that she accompany him to the goodbye gathering in the courtyard. Shamil was riding out to battle or so Anna assumed. He could be going to inspect troops or visit other aouls but she did not want to ask. Ameena was indiscreet and often let slip the kind of military information Anna should not know about, but the others were tight-lipped, Chuanat out of fear for his safety, and the snippets Zeidat dropped were deliberately guaranteed to lower Anna’s morale. ‘We must stand in line to see him ride out,’ Alexander insisted but Madame Drancy refused to budge and it was Anna now, shivering in the cold, who was crammed with the whole household, children, servants and an added group of eager beggars. The weather was brighter today and she could see all the way down to the successive stone walls that circled the aoul, each with its wide low entrance. The mountains beyond and all around were covered in snow, the sky a bluish grey in contrast.

Anna had woken up to a busy household. From the window, she watched Zeidat, with full concentration, saddling Shamil’s horse as if she wanted to ride out herself, before walking off shouting at the servants for their tardy packing. In the meantime Shamil was indoors, spending a long time visiting the elderly Bahou in her room. When she shuffled with him to the door, Anna saw him kiss her hand one last time and ask for her blessings. Then he sat with his crippled daughter, Najdat, who was unwell, crooning to her and feeding her breakfast. Now in his long sheepskin coat, his scimitar held by a leather halter, a tall Circassian hat on top of his white turban, he carried his newborn baby and walked slowly in the windy courtyard bidding everyone goodbye and asking them to pray for his safety.

‘I should not be here,’ Anna thought but the delight on Alexander’s face made her stay. Tugging at her hand, he was caught up in the thrill of the moment. Shamil’s white Arabian stallion, now led from the stables, had a red bridle and a bright crimson blanket under the saddle. More horsemen gathered outside the gate. The canter and snorts of their horses filled the air. They carried banners and a few began to chant. The whole aoul, it seemed, was out and Anna felt nervous of the fervour that was building up. The repetition of La ilaha illa Allah rose up around her and even Alexander joined in. Later, when he kept on singing it, Madame Drancy, ever sensitive to religious differences, would scold him and in vain teach him Cadet Roussel as a substitute. But now Anna looked at his animated face and could not bring herself to censure him. To see him enjoying himself was enough and when they went home, she deliberately reassured herself, all this would become a childish memory.