Page 15 of None Such as She (The Moroccan Empire #2)

“And fine silks and jewels? What man has ever noticed such things except for a silk merchant or a gold trader? And they look at the cloth and the metal, not the woman underneath it all. Keep still, you useless girl. Now move.”

When her time comes to leave me I am relieved but I am also grateful, and perhaps just a little sorry.

I have grown used to her endless talking, her strictness, even her revolting table manners and snoring have become a comfort to me.

I was not lonely, at least, while she was here.

Now I am alone again. But at last I have new skills with which to draw Yusuf to me.

***

I await his return. When he comes I set aside the golden silks. He smiles at me and there are tears in his eyes as he gently replaces them about his own eyes, about my face.

I do not hold back. Every skill I have learnt is unleashed upon him, all at once.

When he cries out it is Badra’s name on his lips.

***

What now for me? Am I to learn yet more skills?

Is there anything new that I can learn even if it would make a difference?

I sit alone in my rooms and see the future stretch out before me in my mirror, as I play out my part as concubine until my beauty fades.

Perhaps I will mutter to myself as I tend flowers or birds, as old wives sometimes do who have proved childless, or form a great devotion to the days of fasting and praying.

Then another girl will be brought here, shy on her camel, eyeing me up with pity, bringing dancers and whores here to teach her what she believes will draw Yusuf to her.

I move close to the mirror and place my hands on it.

My breath clouds its surface so that my face becomes blurred.

Who knows what the future holds? Perhaps there is another way.

My heart leaps when I think about Yusuf and what might be of greater importance to him than nights of embraces.

He is a chief. A powerful chief, beholden only to the amir of Aghmat.

Might such a man not have greater ambitions?

After all, many men marry to create those alliances and opportunities for advancement which take them from lowly leaders to great amirs.

Yusuf is already married. His heart is Badra’s.

But if he could have a wife who would fan the burning coals of his ambition until they became a fire, sweeping all before it…

might he then to turn to such a wife, a woman who might stand by his side in his future?

I choose my time carefully. I risk embarrassment by asking the servants many questions to ensure Yusuf will be at home.

I make an announcement. I have a wish to know my new country better.

Khalila is pleased with me. She thinks that at last I am emerging from my shell, that I will take part in the day-to-day life here.

I say that I wish to visit the waterfalls that run close by to our valley.

They are supposed to be a place of great importance, of strength and power.

I order my servants to prepare my camel and food.

As well as my own maidservants I take three male servants with me, chosen because they are strong but also ignorant and credulous.

I set out with them, while Yusuf sits in council with his men and Badra sits silent in her rooms.

It takes us until the heat of the day is full upon us to reach the waterfalls, and they are indeed memorable.

In a land that needs water, that cares for it and channels it, holds it and longs for it, this abundance of water, falling in multiple glimmering arcs, spilling on the rocks and earth, is a magnificent sight.

My servants prepare food and I eat. They eat a little way off from me and then I tell them that they may please themselves for a while.

I say that I wish to sit quietly, that I have a headache coming on and my eyes cannot bear the bright light of the day.

They arrange shade for me with blankets from the camels and then they move away from me, some of the men swimming, the women coyly pretending to turn their eyes away, paddling their toes daintily and shrieking when the men splash too close.

I prepare myself. My heart is beating fast. I mutter the words I have planned under my breath.

I loosen my hair fastenings a little, such that they would easily fall out, take water from the water bags and sprinkle it over my brow.

I am ready. I picture Yusuf in my mind, see myself by his side, his only beloved.

In one quick movement, before I can think again, I bite down hard on my lower lip.

The pain makes me cry out, and I do not smother the sound.

As my servants turn I fall back, thrashing on the ground.

My hair falls quickly from its poorly-placed pins and its thick darkness grows pale and dusty on the dry ground beneath my head.

I taste salty blood in my mouth and wetness on my chin as my lip bleeds.

I begin to pant as my servants rush to my side.

They drown out my fast breaths with their panicked shouting at one another.

Here is the new bride of their master, fallen into a fit, droplets of sweat on her brow, her body shaking in a frenzy, blood now spreading across her face as her hands flail.

They are frightened. What if I die? How will they explain their negligence?

Swimming, chattering, flirting, while their mistress, who had told them she felt unwell, falls into this state?

They will be whipped for this, even if I recover.

If I die… They try everything, they hold me down, try to pat my face clean with damp cloths.

I can hear the women praying, hoping for some divine help.

I begin to moan, and this makes them even more scared.

When words begin to escape me they lean in close, relieved that at least I am speaking.

One of the men quiets the others and puts his ear close to my mouth.

He listens, then draws back. I see his face from between my half-closed lashes.

He has become pale. The others want to know what he heard.

I save him the trouble of repeating it and speak again, louder and more clearly this time.

They stare at me. I cry out my words one more time, this time so loudly that they fall back, letting go of my limbs. I arch my back.

“Zaynab!” My voice calls out my own name, echoing on the hills. “Zaynab! Lady to a mighty lord! Oh, happy man who calls Zaynab his bride! He shall be mighty indeed! Ruler of his own tribe, ruler of the Maghreb, ruler of lands beyond his own birth! Mighty is the husband of the lady Zaynab…”

My voice, so strong, fades away, and I fall still. My limbs lie loose and crooked upon the hot dusty ground.

I am quiet during the journey home, pale and lifeless in the litter they have assembled for me. The men carry me, the women urge them on, trot alongside me, applying cool cloths and trickling water between my torn lips whenever we pause.

I lie in my rooms for many days. I moan and clasp my head.

At first I insist on darkness and cry out random words from my vision.

Then, slowly, I begin to recover. Reluctantly I repeat my revelation to those that ask for it to be told to them again and again.

The servants whisper, people of consequence in the tribe seek me out.

I am becoming a person of importance. I am gracious with them.

Soon I will be of importance in the eyes of Yusuf, and this is all that matters to me.

At first Yusuf does not come to me. I hear that he was summoned to the amir of Aghmat soon after my vision was known of, and I can imagine that the amir may want to hear of it for himself.

On the day when Yusuf returns I dress in my finest silks and await his command.

Perhaps he will come to me and tell me of his plans for our future together.

At last I am sent for and I go with joy in my heart.

I am a little sorry for Badra, for she will be swept aside now that Yusuf believes that I am his path to greatness.

But she is already lost to this world. I cannot help the delight that makes my feet light as I walk with as much dignity as I can muster to his rooms, although I long to run to him as fast as I can, to arrive gasping for breath.

I will be first in his heart now, as he is in mine. I will be his only love, his only wife.

When I enter his rooms Yusuf is surrounded by his advisors.

I smile broadly at him, for this is how I dreamt it would be.

I will no longer be a pretty concubine, hidden away amongst my carpets and cushions, incense and sweet juice drinks.

I will be truly a wife, an equal at his side.

Even his most trusted men will acknowledge my part in his future greatness. That is why they are gathered here.

But Yusuf’s face is grave. I am surprised, but then I adjust my expression accordingly.

Of course, he may have some difficult decisions to make now.

He will have to set aside his wife, who has served him well.

Her sons will also be set aside, for he will want to have sons with me: his heirs must come from me.

But I am sure he will treat them with kindness, for he is a good man.

Perhaps they will be minor leaders in the region.

Now that he can see a glorious destiny prophesised for him he may well seek to establish an army of his own and look for opportunities to increase his own lands and powers.

His men will be glad of this. And I will be by his side in all.

“Zaynab,” he says, and his voice is so tender that my eyes fill with tears.

I blink them back and look at him full in the face.

Now is not the time for me to be a foolish girl.

I must show him that I am a grown woman, that I could be his finest ally, his loyal and true wife, supporting him in all his endeavours.