The Saffron Gate (41 page)

^{Aszulay looked at me again. Then Badou glanced at him, and he nodded. The little boy scooped up some of the couscous with the fingers of his right hand, kneading it until it was a small ball, and then put it in his mouth. Aszulay tore a thin round of bread in half and, folding it, used it to spoon the couscous into his mouth.}

^{I suspected he had seen that I didn't know how to eat in the Moroccan way, and so was showing me. I was thankful to him for not embarrassing me further, and took a piece of bread and used it as he did. In spite of not believing I could eat, the couscous was delicious, and I realised I had eaten nothing today, and little the day before. Suddenly I was very hungry, and scooped up more of the couscous. When Aszulay picked up a chicken leg with his fingers, I reached into the hot couscous and extracted a thigh. But I dug too far into the steaming mass, and burned my fingers. I dropped the thigh, embarrassed, then picked it up with the tips of my fingers and set it at the edge of the tagine.}

^{'For the Moroccan, the fork is unnecessary,' Aszulay said, and I looked at him, still thankful for his understanding, and saw that Manon was staring at me with open antagonism. She didn't like him paying any attention to me. She was jealous.}

^{'Manon,' Aszulay said, turning to her. 'Come.'Eat. You love
les courgettes.'}

^{Manon looked at the long slices of zucchini, but shook her head weakly. 'I cannot,' she whispered, closing her eyes as she'd done earlier. 'I'm not well today. It's not a good day for me.' She sighed again, an overdone sigh.}

^{'Do you promise to eat later?'}

^{How could he not see her transparency?}

^{'Yes, Aszulay,' she said, demurely, so changed from the forward and volatile woman who had held me in the palm of her hand the day before and the one before that.}

^{I picked up the cooling chicken and bit into it. The skin was crackly and tasted of tumeric. When we were done, we rinsed our fingers in the cool lemon water, and then Badou went back to the fountain and once more walked carefully around its narrow edge, his arms out for balance.}

^{Aszulay looked at my glass, still full, and poured himself another. I drank my tea, no longer hot.}

^{'So,' Manon said, finally looking at me. 'What do you think of my Tuareg?'}

^{I ran my finger around the rim of my glass. Aszulay said nothing.}

^{'You know of the Tuaregs? The Abandoned of God, the Arabs call them, because no one can impose a will on them. They obey no laws in the desert. Aszulay obeys no laws anywhere, do you?' she asked him now.}

^{Again, he didn't answer, nor did his face show any expression.}

^{'His name is a Berber Amazigh name. It means
man with blue eyes.
Quite unusual, aren't they?' she went on, still staring at me.}

^{How was I to respond? There was more silence except for the buzzing of flies and the soft breathing of Falida, who again crouched in the doorway, watching us.}

^{'And unlike so many of this country and those beyond, they honour their women,' she said. 'Don't you, Aszulay? The Tuareg women have respect, and freedom. They go about uncovered, and the men are proud of them. They don't hide their beauty away. Descent — and inheritance — comes through the women. Why don't you tell our guest about your women, Aszulay?'}

^{I didn't understand why she was badgering him. But he ignored her.}

^{'Manon has avoided telling me the reason you've come to Marrakesh,' he said. 'How do you know Manon, mademoiselle?'}

^{I licked my lips, glancing at her, and set my empty glass on the table. 'I've come in search of Manon's brother,' I said.}

^{Aszulay’s face became very still. 'Manon?' he said, and something about the way he said her name filled me with foreboding. He looked back at me. 'You're . . . you are looking for Etienne?'}

^{I stood so quickly the edge of my skirt knocked my glass to the tiles of the courtyard. It shattered. 'You know him?' I asked, moving around the table. He stood; I had to look up to study his face. 'You know Etienne? Is he here? Where is he? Please, where is Etienne?'}

^{'Mademoiselle O'Shea,' he said. 'Are you—'}

^{Now Manon stood as well. 'Leave us, Aszulay,' she said, her voice loud and firm, suddenly changed from the weak, clinging woman she had appeared throughout the meal. 'I want you to go. I will speak to her about it now.'}

^{About it,
she said. Not
him.}

^{'Mademoiselle O'Shea,' Aszulay said again. 'Etienne—'}

^{Again Manon stopped him. 'Aszulay!' she said, her voice harsh. 'This is my home. You will do as I say.'}

^{So. She spoke to him the same way she had spoken to me.}

^{He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it. He grabbed up the long expanse of indigo cloth from the end of the daybed — his turban — and strode across the courtyard, his blue robe flashing behind him as he went through the gate. It closed behind him with a bang.}

^{'Falida. Take the dishes and wash them. Badou, help her,' Manon ordered.}

^{I stayed where I was. When the children had carried away the dishes and glasses, Manon patted the daybed. 'Come. Sit beside me,' she said, suddenly friendly, and that alarmed me more than all of her rude behaviour. I didn't move.}

^{'Come,' she said, again, smiling. 'Sit here with me,' she said, 'so I can tell you where you will find Etienne.'}

^{Swallowing, I did as she asked, and as soon as I was beside her she picked up my hand. 'So small,' she said, stroking the back of it. 'Your hands tell me you have worked, but not so hard, eh, Sidonie?' I noticed her use of my Christian name. She said it with complete familiarity, as if she had a right. And then she gripped my hand with both of hers, squeezing my fingers painfully. I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't release me. I was shocked at her strength, and so wary of her.}

^{'I have always worked,' I said, distractedly thinking of the laundry, the housework, the cooking and gardening.}

^{'You haven't worked like me. Not like the work I have done, to survive,' she said, and in another instance I might have used the word coy to describe her voice.}

^{I thought of what Etienne had told me of his upbringing. 'But . . . when you were young, with your brothers . . . Etienne always said his life was one of privilege.'}

^{When she didn't respond, I said, 'And you have this house. To live like this . . . surely your life can't have been so difficult—'}

^{She made a sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shushing me, and I fell silent. 'I have not always had the luxury of this kind of home,' she said, confusing me. Now she fan her own fingers over the raised bump on my middle finger, and the callus on my palm where my paintbrush had rubbed for so many years. Even though the callus had softened and almost disappeared, she kept stroking the bump.}

^{'What is this from?' she asked.}

^{'A paintbrush,' I said.}

^{She shook her head, still smiling that awful smile. 'It grows ever more interesting.'}

^{'What? What do you mean?'}

^{After another endless moment she said, 'But you saw my paintings.'}

^{It took a moment for her meaning to register. 'In the house? Those . . . you painted those?' My voice rose a halftone.}

^{'You don't believe me?' she said, lazily, the smile never leaving.}

^{'No. I mean yes, of course I believe you. It's just that . . .' My voice trailed off.}

^{Another mystery. Etienne had grown up with a sister who painted, and yet had never mentioned this fact to me when he looked at my paintings, when he spoke about knowing so little about art.}

^{'How did you learn to paint like this? Was it in France? Did you study under someone?'}

^{'In France, Sidonie?' Manon gave a croak that was perhaps meant to be a laugh. 'In France?' she repeated, as though amused. 'You think I have studied in France?'}

^{'But Etienne — his schooling in medicine. And Guillaume . . . Yes, I assumed you had, as well . . .'Again my voice faded as I saw the expression on Manon's face. She was no longer amused, but now angry.}

^{'Of course I didn't study in France.' Her tone implied I was an idiot. And then she suddenly smiled again. I shivered. 'Now tell me about your paintings.'}

^{'Please. Can we not—'}

^{'But I insist. We are having a nice friendly chat. You tell me what I want to know, and then I'll tell you what you want to know.'}

^{I gnawed, for a moment, on the sore on the inside of my cheek, 'I don't paint like you. I use watercolours. I paint plants. Birds.'}

^{Manon stared at me for a moment with a look I couldn't interpret it. 'So Etienne liked his little American
souris
to make pretty pictures?' There was a mocking tone in her voice.}

^{I wanted to shout at her,
I am not a mouse! How dare you?
Instead I said, with as much calmness as possible under the circumstances, 'Yes. Etienne liked my paintings.' I could not anger her further. I knew how quickly she could shut down, and send me away with no answers.}

^{'He told you this? That he
liked
your paintings? You think he liked such tame subjects? What do you think he thought of my work?'}

^{I shook my head. 'I don't know. And I don't know why you're so angry with me. I made your brother happy, madame. Don't you want him to be happy?'}

^{Still holding my hand, still staring into my face with a frightening intensity, Manon opened her lips, bringing her face so close to mine that for one fleeting moment I thought she would kiss me. I instinctively turned my head, to escape her mouth, and Manon put her lips to my ear. 'Etienne is no more,' she whispered. Or perhaps it wasn't a whisper, but I found it difficult to understand her.}

^{I pulled away from her breath on my cheek. 'What? What did you just say? What do you mean?'}

^{Now Manon sat back, her grip on my hand lessening but not releasing, and her voice returned to normal. 'I said that Etienne is no more, Sidonie. He does not live. He is buried in the cemetery behind Eglise des Saints Martyrs.' In spite of the space between us, I smelled something sour and acidic on her breath, something that came from deep within her. It made my stomach sick. I swallowed.}

^{'You can't mean this, Manon.' I used her first name without thinking. My head moved swiftly from side to side, as if by its motion I could erase her words. I violently yanked my hand from hers. 'It's not true. It's not true,' I repeated, shaking her. 'Tell me Etienne isn't dead!'}

^{She nodded, no longer smiling, but staring at me, her eyes, ringed with kohl, huge. I couldn't look away from them. I couldn't catch my breath; it came in great rolling heaves, and Manon's form thinned and wavered. I stared at her, choking now, while she simply sat, nodding, holding me with her eyes.}