Afreet-Jehanam held Layl up for all to see, and the crowd gasped in reverence. “Such a beautiful child,” the imps sang. Scorpions descended upon the babies from all around and stung them over and over, and the boys cooed. Snakes followed the scorpions, and then mosquitoes bit into their skin. Finally, Fatima held one boy in each arm, and a hush fell over the denizens of the underworld. Her eight imps beamed.
“I think the boys are hungry,” Fatima said. “We thank you for your gifts.”
As if on cue, Layl pursed his lips. Shams mimicked him. Layl opened his toothless mouth and yawned. Soon his gaping mouth almost hid his face. It opened wider, and a mewl escaped and grew in volume, until it reached an uninterrupted crescendo of a roar no human can reproduce. Shams joined in, same tone, same pitch. Fatima looked about her. Isaac and Ishmael had begun their bellow. Noah, Job, and Adam. Afreet-Jehanam growled more loudly still. All the devils, all the demons howled in one voice, and all stopped at the same time. Silence.
Layl and Shams slept.
“Our master has arrived,” cried the demons. “Now our story begins.”
Harhash approached Baybars and said, “My prince, as you know, I have no family to speak for me. I have dedicated my life to your service and consider you my brother. I wish to marry the high judge’s daughter. She is a beauty and an untouched virgin. I would be honored if you spoke to him and proclaimed my wishes.”
Baybars agreed. He met with the high judge and asked for his daughter’s hand for his companion. The high judge replied, “It would be an honor.” And so it was. The company returned to Cairo, and an exultant Harhash rode with his lovely new wife. Othman was envious. “I, too, want to marry a virgin,” he told Baybars. “I want to be happy as well.” And Baybars said, “I want you to be happy. Have your mother find a wife for you. She is your family.”
Back in Cairo, Othman asked his mother to find him a wife, and she agreed to look for one. She put on her robe and walked to the maqâm of Lady Zainab. She entered the shrine, knelt, and prayed to the great lady for guidance in selecting the perfect bride for her once-prodigal son. She opened her eyes, and there, not far from her, knelt a young woman of exquisite beauty. Othman’s mother rubbed her eyes, for she assumed that the kneeling supplicant was an apparition of Lady Zainab, but it was not so. The girl was praying. Her devotion and supplication rendered her face angelic in appearance. Othman’s mother asked, “What is your name, my daughter?” and the young woman told her it was Layla. “And the night, your namesake, struggles to match your beauty. I pray you, tell me to whose family you belong, for I wish to ask your hand for my son.”
Layla said, “I have no family but my brother, and he is the high judge of Giza.”
Othman ran to Baybars. “My mother has found me a wife. She is none other than the sister of the high judge. Will you please speak for me as you have for Harhash?”
Baybars agreed wholeheartedly and sent a letter to the high judge of Giza, telling him of the happy news and asking for his sister’s hand for Othman. The high judge’s reply said, “My lord. I cannot deny you any wish. I will gladly offer my young sister in marriage to your companion. However, I have not seen or heard from her in years. Are you sure she is worthy of such an honorable man? Would he not prefer to marry a woman more devoted to our faith?”
Baybars read the letter to Othman. “More devoted?” he yelled furiously. “My future wife was praying at Lady Zainab’s Shrine. The Lady chose her for me. My wife is most faithful and committed. Write and tell him.”
The high judge’s next letter said only, “My sister?”
Othman’s wedding lasted three days, with King Saleh and his entire court attending. Baybars set up a feast to end all feasts for his friend, and even the Africans and Uzbeks celebrated and congratulated their companion. Finally, when the wedding night arrived, the couple retired to their room, leaving behind a heckling party.
“Reveal yourself to me.” Othman knelt before his wife on one knee. “Show your beauty, my life.” Layla took off her marriage veil, and a dazzled Othman wept. “If I prayed to Lady Zainab every second of my life, I would not be able to show how grateful I am. If I offered my life in gratitude, it would not suffice. You are the most lovely being ever to have graced my miserable life. I am humbled by your charms.”
“And you, my husband, are most eloquent,” Layla said. “Come.”
She pulled him to her and kissed him with a passion that surprised him. She undressed him while he fumbled with her knots. She laid him on the bed, his head on the pillow, and continued kissing him. He tried to remove her robe. “Relax,” she whispered from above. Soon she descended upon him. He unleashed a cry of ecstasy that mingled with the laughter in the halls outside their room. “You are my husband,” she said. “Mine.” And she poked and pinched places he did not know existed. His next cry was of joy mixed with pain.
“Wait,” he shouted, but she did not.
“No,” he said, but he did not mean it.
“But,” Othman said, “you are not a virgin.”
Her face registered surprise. “I never claimed to be.”
“No,” he said. “No. That cannot be. Lady Zainab picked you for me.”
“So?”
“Only the devout pray at the shrine.”
“Do not be foolish,” she said. “I have been praying all my life. What has virginity got to do with it? Do you not remember me?” She pulled up her left sleeve and showed him the brand. “I thought that was why you married me.”
“Oh, no,” he moaned. “What kind of dove were you?”
“Luscious,” she said, affronted. “Please.”
“My life is over. I will be the mockery of every man in Egypt.”
“You will be the envy of every man in Egypt.”
“I was supposed to marry a virgin.”
“And you were not supposed to be one.”
“Do not whisper of it to anyone,” he pleaded.
“You are my husband,” she said. “Your shame is my shame, and mine is yours. I will never betray you, and you will never betray me. We share honor.”
Othman covered his eyes. “I am being punished for all the wrongs I have committed.”
“Punished?” Layla asked, aghast. “You think marrying me is punishment? Keep thinking that and I will show you what actual punishment is. If you ever consider that I am not your ideal partner, even if the thought only crosses your mind, I will turn your life into a nightmare. You will think you are in the seventh circle of hell, married to Afreet-Jehanam. Punishment, bah. I am Layla, your ideal wife, your perfect love. Practice saying it every moment of your life. Lady Zainab offered you to me. She is never wrong. You are the perfect man for me.”
“But you are not what I asked for,” Othman objected.
“What you asked for? Has it occurred to you that the Lady was answering my prayers, not yours? I did not ask for a husband. I prayed for a companion, a partner, someone to share my joy. I had given up my profession, and I was bored. I asked Lady Zainab to point out a friend who could make me laugh, who could tell me stories, who could take me on an adventure. And she appeared before me. ‘Listen to me, my daughter,’ she said. ‘You have served me well and brought me joy. I will reward you with your ideal husband. He is God’s servant, and was one long before his vows to me. He is a trickster and serves to bring a smile to His face. If your future husband can polish the dust off God’s heart, surely yours will glimmer for eternity.’ ”
“She said that?”
“And your mother approached me as the Lady ended her speech. You are the answer to my prayers. I do not know whether I am the answer to yours, but you had better believe that I am, for my prayers require that you love me and make me happy, and it shall be so.”