‘You think it a mistake?’ Zimat turned away. ‘Then go. You do not love me.’
John touched her shoulder. ‘You know I do.’
‘Then choose: you betray Yusuf, or you betray our love.’ Zimat turned and put her head against his chest. ‘You left me once, John. Do not leave me again.’
John hesitated, then put his arms around her. They stood silently for a moment while he stroked her hair, and then she began to untie his cloak. John took her hands, stopping her. ‘But if we are discovered?’
‘Then we will die together. It is a chance that I am willing to take. Are you?’
An image of Nadhira’s broken body rose in John’s mind, but he shook his head, dispelling the thought. How many nights had he dreamed of holding Zimat? She was right: it was a chance worth taking. He stepped forward and took her in his arms, kissing her soft lips. ‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Yes.’
Chapter 14
AUGUST 1156: ALEPPO
Yusuf stood before a bronze mirror in his palace chamber and examined his reflection. He had been to the baths, where a barber had trimmed his beard short and smoothed back his hair with sweet-smelling oil. Upon his return, he had dressed in a red satin caftan decorated with swirling patterns in silver thread. Yusuf straightened his collar, then leaned closer to the mirror and frowned at the patchiness of his beard. He went to a trunk and took out a small wooden box. He opened it, scooped out a handful of kohl — a mixture of ash and ghee — and rubbed it into his beard. He went back to the mirror and nodded in satisfaction.
‘Are you ready yet?’ John grumbled as he entered the room.
Yusuf quickly turned away from the mirror. ‘Yes. Let’s not keep her waiting.’
Yusuf led them across the palace to the harem entrance. They were expected, and the tawashi escorted them to Asimat’s room. He knocked, and a moment later one of Asimat’s female servants opened the door. Yusuf and John followed the tawashi into the room.
‘My lady,’ the eunuch declared. ‘Your guests.’ He withdrew, shutting the door behind him. The servant went back to the loom in the corner.
Asimat sat cross-legged, a writing table on her lap and her quill poised above the paper. She looked up and smiled. ‘Yusuf! And who is this you have brought with you?’
‘My friend, John,’ Yusuf said with a small bow. ‘You sent for us.’
‘Ah yes, the civilized Frank who, you say, is immune to the charms of women,’ Asimat teased. John’s cheeks reddened. ‘Come, sit,’ Asimat continued. ‘I am glad you came. I wished to see you before you departed.’
Yusuf frowned as he and John sat across from Asimat. ‘Departed? I have no plans to leave Aleppo.’
‘Nevertheless, you shall leave soon enough.’
‘For where?’
‘Frankish lands. Nur ad-Din will tell you at the council meeting tomorrow.’
‘You are better informed than I, Khatun.’
‘Of course. I am Nur ad-Din’s wife. You see him only during council meetings or hunts. The rest of the time, he is mine,’ Asimat concluded with a wink.
‘Perhaps you could tell me, then, what I will be doing amongst the Franks.’
‘I have told you enough already. You will find out the rest tomorrow.’ Asimat turned her gaze to John. ‘Is it true that you have not yet taken a woman?’
John flinched noticeably. ‘It is true.’
‘Is it because of your religion?’
‘No, Khatun.’
‘You do not like women then?’
‘No — I mean yes,’ John said, flustered. ‘I like them.’
‘I see,’ Asimat mused, her head tilted to the side. ‘And if you did have a woman, what would you do if you found her with another man?’
John looked away. ‘I do not know.’
‘Would you kill her?’
‘No, my lady,’ John said softly.
‘What then? Imagine the woman you love in the arms of another man. What would you do?’
John’s brow knit and he clenched his jaw. ‘I–I do not know.’
‘I see my questioning has made you uncomfortable,’ Asimat said. ‘You may go.’
‘Thank you, Khatun.’
Asimat watched John leave, and then her eyes turned to Yusuf. ‘Usama was wrong. It seems your friend remains a Frank at heart. He does not have our sense of honour.’
‘Perhaps John is right.’
Asimat arched an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You have heard what happened to Emir Khaldun’s wife, Nadhira?’
‘The girl who was stoned.’
‘It was my doing,’ Yusuf said bitterly. ‘There was no honour in that.’
‘You should not blame yourself, Yusuf. It is our law.’
Yusuf’s cheek twitched as an image of Nadhira’s mangled face flashed through his mind. ‘Have you ever seen a woman stoned?’
‘Yes,’ Asimat said quietly. They sat in silence for a moment, then her face brightened. ‘But let us talk of other things. I asked you here to tell you my good news: Allah has blessed me. I am with child.’
Yusuf was surprised to find that he was disappointed, jealous of Nur ad-Din. He lowered his gaze as he struggled to compose his features. ‘Praise be to Allah,’ he murmured, forcing a smile.
Asimat seemed not to notice his lack of enthusiasm. ‘Nur ad-Din is pleased. He will hardly let me out of his sight. He has three doctors attending to me, including a Jew who says he knows you. Ibn Jumay he is called.’
‘I have known him since I was a child. I would trust my life to him before any other.’
‘He tells me I must not drink wine while pregnant,’ Asimat pouted, then smiled. ‘But what of you? Have you found a bride yet?’ Yusuf shook his head. ‘You should be married soon, Yusuf. Shall I find a girl for you?’
Yusuf looked away. ‘That would be most kind, Khatun,’ he forced himself to say.
‘It is settled, then,’ Asimat said brightly. ‘I will speak to Nur ad-Din. By the time you return to Aleppo, I shall have found you a wife.’
‘As-salaamu ‘alaykum,’ Yusuf said, looking over his right shoulder while kneeling on the floor of his room. ‘As-salaamu ‘alaykum,’ he repeated as he looked left. His morning prayers finished, he rolled up his prayer mat and went to the window. The sun was just rising over the horizon. It was time for the council meeting. He left his room, heading for the council chamber, which sat atop the palace’s tallest tower. Nur ad-Din said it was the only place where he could be sure they would not be overheard.
Two mamluks stood at the entrance to the narrow, spiralling staircase that wound up to the council room. They searched Yusuf for weapons, then waved him through. He hurried up the stairs, glancing through the window slits as he passed. The hill on which the citadel sat fell away steeply below the tower, and the buildings of the town appeared tiny at this height. The stairs ended at a thick wooden door, guarded by another mamluk. The guard nodded to Yusuf and pulled the door open.
The council chamber was round and twenty feet across, with arched windows on all sides. Cushions had been placed along the wall, but the half-dozen emirs present were not sitting. Yusuf recognized Usama speaking with the fat-faced eunuch, Gumushtagin. Khaldun stood just apart from them, scowling grimly. There were black rings under his eyes. Yusuf crossed over to him. ‘Salaam, Khaldun. I have not seen you for many days. You have been well?’
‘Well enough.’
‘I am sorry about Nadhira.’
Khaldun’s face twisted into a grimace. ‘Sorry? For what?’
Across the room, the door opened and Nur ad-Din entered, followed by Shirkuh. The emirs fell silent. ‘Welcome, my friends,’ Nur ad-Din said as he crossed the room and took a seat against the wall. ‘Please, be seated.’
The emirs sat in a circle in order of their seniority. Usama and Shirkuh sat to Nur ad-Din’s left and right. Yusuf found himself directly across from the king. ‘I have called you here because I have received important news from the Frankish court,’ Nur ad-Din said and looked to Usama.
‘While last in Jerusalem,’ Usama began, ‘I learned that the Frankish king, Baldwin, is secretly gathering troops in the Kadisha. On my way home, I passed through Tripoli, where I saw many Frankish knights arriving from overseas. And I heard rumours of raids against the Bedouin who live on the borders of the Frankish kingdom.’