Just before sunrise, Naeem crept out of the house quietly. He mounted his master’s horse and rode it to the stream where Maya was waiting. He mounted her on the horse behind him, and they rode off into the distance.
23
It dawned on Hasan as he lay in bed huddled under the covers trying to get warm that his life was much better now. The storm that Maryama raised had calmed down, and their life together had gotten back on course. Her family was released from prison. Her mother was declared innocent of all charges, although her brothers were sentenced to pay a substantial fine that they could not afford. When the Castilians confiscated Abu Ibrahim’s house in lieu of payment, Maryama suggested to Hasan that her mother and brothers come and live with them.
“Your mother is more than welcome to come and live with us,” he replied. “But your brothers will have to find their own place to live. I have my mother and sister in this house, and they are not blood relatives.”
Maryama looked at him suspiciously. “Tell me what’s really on your mind, Hasan. No need to think up excuses. You’ve hosted Omar and Abdel-Kareem before, for several weeks at a time when they were still strangers from Valencia, and not related to you through marriage.”
He looked at her in annoyance and didn’t respond. When she continued to glare at him, he spoke. “You know what the other reason is, so why bother to say it? But since you want to hear it, then listen! Your brothers have just been released from prison, and they’re being watched. I don’t want myself or my family to have anything to do with whatever problems may arise.”
Maryama said nothing. She no longer broached the subject or alluded to it. But throughout the next three months, she was on edge and easily irritated, yelling at the children for one reason or another, or for no reason at all. She spanked Hisham and she cried at the slightest incident. She met all of Hasan’s needs in the way of food and clothing, but she wouldn’t engage him in conversation or let him near her in bed.
But patience prevailed and in the passing of weeks and months, she calmed down. One night in bed, Hasan thought about how pleased God must be with him. The state of his affairs and those of his family were stable at a time when stability was rare. Even Saleema, whose defiance and choice of such a strange life caused him so much anxiety, began to fill their house in Albaicin with prestige and gratitude because she had the power of healing, and her treatments cured both the body and the soul — at least that’s what people were saying. She inherited Abu Jaafar’s high-mindedness and noble heart, and she never refused a request for help, even if there were no means to pay a fee for her services. Maybe that’s the reason, Hasan thought, why God rewarded her, and why people lavished their money on her when they had it, and why they lavished their affection when they had money or didn’t have it. God bestowed on Saleema wisdom, knowledge, the affection of people, and that little angel, Amal, who filled his house with her joy, her radiant laughter, and her enchanting presence. “What will you give me today, Amal?” The little girl opens her arms and gives him a big hug, saying, “I love you more than the sun, the moon, and Mummy.” Hasan beams with pride as the tears well from his eyes. He wished only that Saad would return to complete his peace of mind, that he marry off his remaining daughters, and that Hisham grow up and marry Amal so that he may see their children before he dies.
Hasan spent several hours every day thinking about his welfare and that of his family, or about this thing or that. Even if he went to bed late, he always woke up at the crack of dawn, two or three hours before Maryama, who lay sound asleep next to him, and the other family members. Only Saleema was awake at that time. The only thing he could do was to lie awake in bed with his thoughts, waiting for the others to get up.
Sometimes he found it difficult waking up in the dark. He would light a candle and follow the shadow of its flicker against the wall or the ceiling. Sometimes he would get up and go into Saleema s room, knock on the door and go in. He would feel comfort in her company and in watching Esperanza’s angelic face as she slept.
“What’s keeping you up, Hasan? Why can’t you sleep?” Saleema asked.
“Nothing, really. I just seem to need only a few hours of sleep.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
Her question made him uneasy. He didn’t respond.
She lifted her head from the book she was reading and asked, “Do you remember the day you, Saad, Naeem, and I all went to see the Christopher Columbus parade?”
“The day Naeem suddenly disappeared and we didn’t know where he went?”
Hasan began to recall some of the details of that day, and a half smile cracked on his face. His features expressed something between sadness and joy.
“We were so young then, Saleema, and we had no idea what was in store for us.”
“I sometimes ask myself how our grandchildren will live a hundred years from now.”
Hasan had never given it a thought. “God only knows. I never get further than a day in the future when Saad and Naeem come back, and when we marry off our children and see their children.” He stopped talking for a moment and then decided to tell Saleema what he wanted to tell her for months. “Would you accept Hisham as a husband for Amal?”
Saleema laughed so loud that the little girl stirred in her bed, but then rolled over and went back to sleep. Her laughing made him uncomfortable and he asked her with a slight tone of annoyance, “Why are you laughing?”
“Because my Aysha is only three years old, and Hisham isn’t even nine yet.”
“Before you know it she’ll be a young women of ten, and Hisham a tall and strapping young man.”
“It’s premature to be talking about such things, Hasan. And when the time comes, we’ll have to face the problem of the Castilian edict banning marriage between relatives.”
“They can all go to hell! I’ll never give Amal away to a stranger who’ll take her away from my house.”
Saleema smiled and pretended to go along with Hasan, feeling as if she were participating in an amusing game whose outcome would be in some distant future.
“How will we get the official papers? And when they have children, won’t the Castilian law declare them illegal?”
Hasan fidgeted as though he had to solve the problem then and there.
“I will find a way out. Saad is from Malaga and Amal bears his name. I will deny on paper that I’m her uncle and you are her mother.”
This time Saleema laughed softly so that she wouldn’t wake up the sleeping child. “Why don’t you arrange for the marriage contract now?” she asked with playful sarcasm. “Then all we need to do is wait a few years for the children to come of legal age and announce the wedding.”
Hasan was offended and brushed aside Saleema’s poking fun at him. “What’s gotten into you, Saleema? I swear by the Lord of the Kaaba that I love your daughter more than Hisham and all my daughters, those here and those in Valencia whom I miss with all my heart. Good night!” He left her to crawl into bed as was her habit at that early hour in the morning, and went and woke up Maryama to prepare his breakfast before going off to work.
Hasan enjoyed his work at the inn. The only cloud over his head was Abu Mansour with his short temper and lack of self-control. Hasan really didn’t need his services when he asked him to work there, but the man was without a job and nothing to keep his mind occupied. Instead he stayed home and abused his wife and alcohol. He would sit and take one drink after another until he couldn’t breathe and his face broke out in red blotches. His verbal abuse would turn physical and the sounds rang out throughout the neighborhood.