Meanwhile Apama had sent for Hasan. Adi waited for him and ferried him down the canal to a concealed location.
“Why did you call for me?” he asked irritably.
“Don’t be angry, master. Everything is going fine, except in this garden. Either Miriam doesn’t know, or doesn’t want to know, how to overwhelm an unfledged boy.”
She relayed what she had heard and observed.
“It appears to me Miriam has chosen the right approach. Ibn Tahir is quite different from the other youths. Is that all you called me here for?”
“Chosen the right approach? You say that to me, when you know that there wasn’t a man who could resist me? So I’m a bungler, and Miriam is the artist?”
Hasan suppressed a smile.
“Why bicker? Miriam just has different views about these things.”
“She has views? Merciful heavens! And where would she have gotten them? From her old Jew, maybe? Or from that desert wild man?”
“What if she has them from me?”
“You’re trying to humiliate me. Just remember, I have a sense she’s going to betray you to the boy. She’s fallen in love with him.”
Due to the darkness she didn’t notice the flush that suffused Hasan’s face. But she did sense that she had touched a sore spot.
“They’re kissing and cooing like doves. He’s a poet, you know, and that never fails to have an effect on a woman’s heart. From now on she’s going to worry about him. She intentionally sent the girls out of the room so she could be alone with him. She’s going to warn him to be careful.”
The ground crunched under footsteps. Adi had brought Rikana. She shuddered when she saw Hasan next to Apama.
“Don’t be afraid. What are the two of them doing now?”
“It looks like ibn Tahir has fallen in love.”
“And Miriam?”
Rikana lowered her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“I’d like to speak with her,” Hasan said.
Rikana looked at Apama, perplexed.
“What are you shilly-shallying about?” he asked.
“How am I supposed to tell her? And what if ibn Tahir goes with her?”
“She has to come. She’ll find an excuse.”
She bowed and dashed off. When she came in, Miriam quietly confronted her.
“Did you see Apama?”
“Yes. And Sayyiduna is down by the water. He’s waiting for you. Think up an excuse to tell ibn Tahir and go see him.”
Miriam went back to ibn Tahir.
“Do you really love me?”
“You doubt it?”
“Prove it. Write me a poem.”
Ibn Tahir panicked.
“How is a wretch like me supposed to compose something worthy of you? Miriam, don’t put me to shame.”
“If you love me, write a poem.”
“How could I? With you around …?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t get in your way. I’m going out to the gardens to pick you some flowers. In the meantime, you write a poem about your love.”
She turned to face the girls.
“You stay here with him and play him some music.”
As she left, she whispered to Rikana.
“Don’t let him out of the hall. You’re all responsible.”
With her coat on, she hurried into the gardens.
Near the boats she caught sight of Hasan. He took firm hold of her hand.
“Does he believe he’s in paradise?”
“He’s in love, so he believes he’s in paradise.”
“That’s not an answer. You look different to me somehow. You know there will be no mercy if the boy doesn’t prove himself.”
“I guarantee he will. Now tell Apama to stop lurking around like a ghost and interfering with my work.”
“It would be better if you’d kept cool. Be careful you don’t lose control of the reins.”
Had she heard right? Hasan felt hurt? So he did care about her, after all.
“Don’t worry, ibn Sabbah. I have the reins firmly in hand.”
“I expected no less. How did you excuse yourself when you left?”
“I gave him an assignment. I told him to write me a poem.”
He took her by the arm and led her a few paces away from the shore.
“Do you think he’s fallen very much in love?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you?”
“Does that matter to you?”
“Probably not. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Ibn Tahir is a gifted youth. But he has a long way to go before he’s a man.”
“Go back now and put him to sleep as soon as possible.”
She couldn’t help giggling slightly.
He kissed her on the forehead and rejoined Apama.
“It looks like the master is jealous.”
“Maybe. In any case, less jealous than Apama is.”
He waved to her as they parted and then ordered Adi to ferry him back to the castle.
“When I’m back in the tower, I’ll give a sign to the trumpeters. There’s been enough excitement for tonight.”
Something was weighing down on his heart. He remembered Omar Khayyam, lying amidst his pillows in Nishapur and drinking wine, a beautiful girl serving him while he writes poems and laughs at the whole world. He was free to contemplate and perceive. To enjoy perfect tranquility. At this instant he envied him.
“Yes, he drew the best lot of the three of us.”
The girls noticed that Miriam had returned smiling. She brought in a whole armful of flowers and strewed them around ibn Tahir, who was leaning over a tablet covered with writing. They immediately felt relieved.
“Did you write the poem?”
“I tried, at least.”
“He already read us some of it,” Sit said. “Your head will spin.”
“I’m dying of curiosity.”
She picked up a pellet and held it firmly in her fist. She dropped to her knees beside ibn Tahir. She leaned up against him, looking over his shoulder at the tablet. She imperceptibly dropped the pellet into his cup.
He read:
Tears glistened in Miriam’s eyes. To hide them, she quickly kissed him. It hurt so much, she could have died.
Poor boy, she thought. So sincere, so good and so young. There’s no place in his heart for lies and deception. And I’m the one who has to get him ready to be Hasan’s sacrifice.