Sultana's Legacy (24 page)

“You only care about your selfish interests in Malaka. You know nothing of my losses! How can you?”

His face turned red with fury and his voice exploded out of him. “Do you think you are the only person who has ever suffered? We have all lost, not just you. You lost a father. I lost the man who gave me my greatest gift in you. One who treated me more like a brother than a cousin, more like a true son, than his daughter’s husband. Or is your pain so great that you have no compassion or understanding?”

Her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. Then she turned her back on him. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She refused to shed them. No more tears.

After some time passed, his hands settled on her shoulders. He rubbed her arms through the rough woolen mantle and the brocaded garments beneath it.

“Before your father died, he said to me ‘Tell her she was right.’ What did you know beforehand about your father’s circumstances, Fatima? What were you and the Sultan hiding?”

The moment was lost forever, the last time when she should have unburdened herself to him before his departure to Gharnatah with her father. She could have revealed everything, including how Muhammad had drugged her father.

She shook her head. It would not have made a difference. Faraj’s sentiments were clear. He cared about Malaka and his hold on the governorship. He would not risk it, not even for her. She could not rely on him now.

“Fatima, I need you to listen.”

When she did not move, he turned her to face him and cupped her chin in both of his hands. “Please. Hear what I have to say. The Sultan has made a request of us, of me. He offers a great boon. In truth, it shall be an immense benefit to our son, as well.”

A tingling sensation prickled along her spine. Her expectant gaze roamed over his face. “What are you saying?”

“Your brother has offered Ismail a post in the
Diwan al-Insha
. Our son is to be a
wazir
. It is an excellent opportunity. Ismail shall remain in Gharnatah, but I feel certain we shall see him….Fatima? Why are you looking at me in that way?”

For a moment, she experienced the strangest sensation she had ever known, of being semi-present, watching another woman’s nightmare unfold. Then a chill ran up and down her spine. Her arms tingled with gooseflesh. She stumbled backward as though wounded with an arrow to the chest. Yet, she was not dead, because for the first time in several hours, she experienced pain again.

“Fatima? Merciful God, Fatima, speak to me.”

Grief grew and swelled in her chest, as a canker in her breast that slowly spread. She stared at him, wordless.

He grasped her fingers again. “Please talk to me.”

Her eyes watered and she blinked rapidly, as if she could shut him out forever.

“You gave our…you gave my son over to that monster?”

He released her abruptly. “I knew you would be displeased. For once, think of our son and not your own selfish desire to have him near!”

“I can’t believe you. You didn’t, you couldn’t have done it.”

“Fatima, I am his father….”

“You gave my child over to Muhammad!”

Her fists struck his chest and face. She rained down blows on him. He struggled against her and got hold of her hands. When she could not use them or rake her nails across his face, she kicked at him. He pushed her down on the cold marble and straddled her. He wrenched her hands above her head.

“Stop this now! You’re hysterical.”

She twisted beneath him and spat in his eye. He swung his hand wide twice. Two stinging slaps made her ears ring. He panted and stood, wiping at the blood from a small cut, smeared beneath his right eye.

She stared at him in disbelief. “How could you do it, betray me and our son? You gave him over to the very man who tried to kill him, when he was in my womb!”

Faraj snarled, “You’re mad!”

Fatima flung the truth at him, the brutal past that she had concealed, to her bitterest regret. He staggered and flopped on his backside across from her, his eyes widening with each word.

She stabbed a finger at him. “Now, you have put him in the hands of the man who could have killed him and me. The man who poisoned our father in the same manner that he used to kill an innocent slave girl. Muhammad must have known I would suspect him in the sudden death of our father. He does not claim Ismail for his
wazir
. Our son is his hostage, to compel my silence.”

Faraj gaped. “Why did you never tell me before now?”

She shook her head. “I shall never forgive you. Do you understand me? Never!”

“I didn’t know! You hid the truth from me. How can you accuse me when you have never spoken of this in all our years together?”

She ignored him and struggled to stand. It did not matter how his words damned her. Her father was gone and Muhammad threatened to take her son away from her.

She moved toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Faraj called out.

She halted at the entrance, but did not turn back to him. “To find my son and save him.”

She dashed out into the cold night. The sentries on the walls of
al-Quasaba
sounded the hour.

“
Ummi
!
Ummi
, what has happened?”

Ismail stood beneath a gate, sheltered from the lingering moisture in the air. Khalid and some of Faraj’s men stood at his back. Ismail raced across the open-air courtyard. She stumbled in her haste to reach him. She hit the cobblestone pavement. Pain throbbed through her knees. Her son aided her and she launched herself at him. She held his lean-muscled form in her arms, safe and secure where no one could touch him. She intended to keep it that way.

“You have to leave Gharnatah now! You must go away, far from here, where Muhammad cannot hurt you!”

He drew back in the circle of her embrace. “What do you mean? The Sultan would never harm me.”

She shook her head. “You think he would not, but you must flee this place.”

“Where would I go? Besides, I have no wish to leave, now that the Sultan has made his offer. I am not leaving.”

She whispered, “Muhammad has spoken to you?”

“No. A servant of his summoned me to dine at his side within the hour. He also sent word that I am to be a
wazir
of the
Diwan
.”

She caressed his cheek. “Oh, my precious life, you don’t understand. You think you’re safe here. This place offers no protection. Come with me now. I shall tell you everything on our return home, after we have left this evil place.”

She grabbed his hand. Ismail did not move. His mouth tightened into a stubborn line. “I am not leaving Gharnatah. It would be treason to defy the Sultan’s wishes. Besides, I am a man now. You cannot make me return to Malaka.”

“Why must you choose this moment to assert your will against mine? What you wish is irrelevant! Your safety is all that matters to me. I am your mother. Heed my warning, Ismail.”

“I cannot, though it pains me to say so. I want to stay in Gharnatah. I want to be the Sultan’s
wazir
.”

A low moan escaped her. She sagged against him.

Ismail wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know what’s happened to you since our arrival. Has someone tried to harm you? You are dirty and wet.”

“Her grief has maddened her, son.”

She and Ismail looked up at Faraj’s approach. Their son’s gaze darted between them. Then he scowled.

“Did you and
Ummi
argue, Father? Are you responsible for these marks on her neck? There’s blood on your cheek, too.”

Faraj heaved a weary sigh. “I would never willingly harm your mother. You know I would not.”

Ismail’s scowl deepened. His dark glare stabbed at his father. Faraj did not shrink under his scrutiny.

Fatima touched her son’s shoulder. “Please, listen to me. Your grandfather’s death has left me in agony, but I promise you, it has not altered my mind. Your father does not understand many things about my brother. You have to go from this place. Don’t you see that? I would do anything to protect you!”

Ismail sighed. “What are you protecting me from? No more secrets and half-truths. If you would ensure my safety, then tell me everything.”

He gathered her against him and led her away from Faraj and the men of Malaka. They sat at a distance on a cold stone bench, beneath the fragrant nighttime shade of bougainvillea trees. Purple blossoms floated around them.

Fatima spoke in full candor with her son. She held nothing back of the past several years, including Muhammad’s attempt on her life, her discovery of her father’s addiction to hashish and Muhammad’s role. Then, she spoke of Leila’s marital ceremony, where the Sultan confronted the truth about Muhammad and resolved to punish him. Finally, she revealed Nasr’s accusation of the poison used in her father’s sudden death.

Spent, she leaned against Ismail for comfort. He had said nothing while she spoke. She touched his bearded cheek. His handsome visage in the moonlight made her miss her beloved father more than ever.

“You must not stay here, son. You would be nothing more than Muhammad’s pawn to use against me. I cannot let him hurt you. I would kill him with my bare hands before I allowed it.”

Ismail clutched her shoulders. “You have the spirit of a lioness protecting her cubs. Even she must acknowledge when her offspring are full-grown.”

“You do not know the full measure of your uncle’s depravity!”

“Yes, I do, for you have armed me with the knowledge. I shall use it to protect myself. I shall ensure your safety, too. If my uncle believes you are a threat to him, then it is best for me to remain here, to be your eyes and ears, to witness and anticipate his actions.”

“No! You cannot take such a risk for me.”

“Listen to reason! Where do you think I could go that my uncle would not find me? The Sultan has issued a command that none of us dares disobey. He needs me here to ensure your silence and prevent anyone else from knowing how Grandfather died. He requires Father’s continued loyalty. I am safe, don’t you see? He would never harm me, not while you remain to speak against him. He still needs my father. Trust in me! I shall never draw my uncle’s suspicion. He’ll never move against me.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Please, no.”

Ismail took her hands in his. She looked down at them and saw the familiar strength of her own father’s large olive-skinned hands mirrored in her son’s grasp.

“We must separate for a time. Yet, you remain in my heart,
Ummi
.”

She sobbed and buried her face in his tunic. “You shall always be in mine, my blessed son.”

***

That night, Fatima stayed in Shams ed-Duna’s quarters, while Faraj and his men found rooms at an inn within the
madina
’s confines. Fatima did not sleep. She peered out of the window all night for a sign of Ismail’s return from her brother’s rooms. Finally, Shams pleaded with her to rest because she would not see her son from her vantage point. The Sultan now maintained his quarters in the most prominent tower of
al-Quasaba
, a good distance from the harem.

Fatima muttered, “Muhammad is a monster to force you from this place.”

Shams took her hands in her slim, dark ones. Fatima raised her fingers to her lips and kissed them.

Shams said, “In truth, it would pain me too much if I stayed. The memories of my Sultan and of my son linger. My eldest daughter married a prince of al-Jaza’ir. Before your father died, he promised my two remaining daughters to governors of al-Tunisiyah. Those men may not hold to their bargains now that my children are fatherless. I have asked Faisal to arrange for us to go to my daughter in al-Jaza’ir. If her husband has pity on us, we shall remain with her.”

“You shall write to me often.”

“I shall do so. My heart is heavy. The girls know of their father’s death, but I have concealed the circumstances surrounding their dear brother. When we leave this place, I shall comfort them and they shall do the same for me.”

Fatima hugged her stepmother and buried her face in her neck. How would she bear the loss of her, especially at this time?

Whenever she drifted off throughout the night, the memory of Muhammad’s insolent grin jarred her from sleep. How he had relished his position upon the throne with her at his feet. She had not needed to look at his face to verify it. His throaty intake of breath and the sigh of pleasure that washed over him revealed all.

Morning came too quickly, the dawning of another horrible day since her father’s death. Prayer offered her little solace, but she observed the rituals of
Salat al-Fajr
at Shams’ side with her younger sisters.

In the midst of the morning prayer, a scream echoed.

Shams raised her head and glanced at Fatima. “Nur.”

She admonished her two girls to remain where they were, while she and Fatima crossed the hall in a flutter of blue-black silk.

The door to the
kadin
’s chamber swung on its hinges. The turquoise-colored damask curtains, embroidered at the hems with gold filigree floated on the breeze coming through the windows. Soft sobs came from the room beyond.

Fatima pushed aside another curtain draped over an archway. Nur al-Sabah lay on her pallet with her eyes closed. Nasr stood at the foot of the bed. His mother could have been sleeping. She wore mourning colors with a wispy veil covering her pale gold hair. A necklace of finely cut opals, jade and sapphires gleamed in gold around her neck. Fatima recognized it as the gift her father had given the
kadin
, when they celebrated the feast of Nur’s first child, some thirty years in the past.

Nur’s maidservant Sabela rocked back and forth on the floor. She keened, as she held Nur’s lily-white hand in hers. A pewter cup rested on a table beside the pallet. Fatima took it and sniffed the contents. She did not recognize the sticky, sweet-smelling, yellow liquid at first. Then she dipped her finger into the cup and licked it. The taste of alcohol and bitter fruit juice tinged her tongue. She spat on the ground and rushed to Nur’s side.

Shams buried her face in her hands and sobbed.