Leila inclined her head curtly in acquiescence, makingno comment asSuhelopened the door and steppedoutside. She lifted the opaque veil attached to her longkufiyyaand tucked a corner into her headband, covering her face below the eyes, thenfollowed the stout white eunuch into the nearly deserted street.
She hated visiting the governor's prison, even if itwas to assist her father. How she wished Jamal Al-Aziz, her betrothed andSinjar'sonly son by his second wife, was here in Damascusso she wouldn't have to go. But he had been summoned to Cairo to cure thecaliph's family of smallpox and wouldn't be home for weeks. As her father'sapprentice, she was the next likeliest choice.
A new case,Sinjar'scrypticmessage had read, delivered to her barely ten minutes ago just as she wasbeginning to relax after a long, wearying day spent caring for patients at theHospital ofNureddine. Something highly unusual. Shewas to make all haste. She had to admit her curiosity was aroused, though shewished she was meeting her father anywhere but in that horrid place.
At least the walk there would be pleasant, Leilathought, much of her apprehension and weariness fading as she hurried to keepup withSuhel, who despite his bulk was maintaining avigorous pace. It was such a beautiful summerevening,she could not help but feel exhilarated.
A balmy breeze swirled around her, lifting the embroiderededges of her veil, and she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs. The air was sweetwith the scent of flowers; jasmine, oleander and her favorite, damask rose. Shewore the barest hint of its fragrance at her wrists and throat, her only trulyfeminine indulgence when she went about her work.
She glanced up at the sky, a deepening turquoise bowlinverted above the walled city. Here and there, stars were beginning totwinkle, and the bright quarter moon was just rising over the rugged summit ofMountKassioun. Multicolored pigeons flew high aboveher in ever-widening circles, searching amid the countless rooftops for a homeperch. They were all familiar sights to her, yet somehow new and hauntinglydifferent each time she beheld them.
"How I love this city," she whispered toherself, listening to the sounds of the night as they headed west along anarrow side street.
A chestnut vendor's cart rumbled past them, the woodenwheels bumping noisily on the uneven paving stones, and a donkey brayed in thedistance. Laughter filtered from the houses, as did the animated drone ofconversation, a baby crying, mongrel dogs barking, and everywhere the lushsound of fountains and cascading water; the stirring cacophony of life.
"This way, mistress,"Suhelsaid over his broad shoulder, his effeminate voice intruding upon her reverie.He gestured with the lantern, the weaving light causing their shadows to boband sway against the stucco walls. "Since I am with you," he statedpointedly, "we shall take the main streets which are faster than the rearalleys allowed to women, yes?"
Leila shot him a withering glance as an answer, but theeunuch only chuckled.
She was still piqued at him for betraying her attemptto leave the house without an escort. As long as there was daylight, she wasallowed to come and go as she pleased, but since it was so near dusk, he hadgone running to tell her mother. Eve,Majida, andSuhelhad caught up with her just as she was about to passthrough the guarded harem doors. Her mother's troubling reprimand was stillfresh in her mind.
"Leila, you know women are not allowed to walkabout unescorted at night," Eve had chided her. "Why must you be sowillful and reckless?"
"It is not yet dark, Mother," she hadobjected somewhat lamely, feeling suddenly foolish and much younger than hernineteen years.
Eve waved her small, delicate hand in a dismissivegesture. "Listen well to me, my daughter. As you say, it is not dark. Butyou cannot expect the trappings and privileges of your profession to protectyou when the hour grows late and the streets become empty. These are dangeroustimes, Leila. You, as a Christian, should know that well. The crusaders swarmover the land again, inciting fierce hatred and a lust for revenge that couldmark any Christian as a potential target. You wear thezunnar—"
"I am not the same as them!" Leila blurtedindignantly. "Any Damascene citizen would recognize that, Mother" —shetugged on the striped sash around her waist— "whether I wear this or not.The crusaders are barbarians. Wild savages who cross the sea in the name of Godand piety, but who truly come to pillage and rape and destroy what they don'tunderstand. We are civilized, Mother. We live here in peace, while those—thoseChristians think only of plunder and conquest."
"You speak of your own blood, Leila. Your heritage. . ." Eve's voice trailed off to a whisper, a faraway look haunting hereyes. "Ah, how can you know? I have told you so little. It is anotherworld, another place."
"Mother," Leila said gently. Disconcerted byEve's pensive, slightly sad expression, she felt her anger quickly fading. "Fatherwill be waiting for me. I must go."
"Yes, you must," Eve said, her gaze findingLeila's once more. "TakeSuhelwith you."
Leila nodded, wanting more than anything at that momentto ease her mother's mind. For weeks Eve had seemed troubled and unusuallyquiet, so unlike herself, often studying Leila with a strangely wistfulexpression.
"I'll take ten slaves with me if it will pleaseyou," she said in an attempt to make Eve smile. She felt a sense of reliefwhen some of the sparkle returned to her mother's lustrous eyes.
"Suhelis enough,"Eve had said, leaning forward and kissing Leila's cheek. "He is stout, buthe is also very strong. Go now, daughter. Your father is patient, but he willwonder what is keeping you."
As she puzzled over what could be distressing hermother, Leila's thoughts were nudged back to the present whenSuhelsuddenly dropped back beside her, his plump handstraying to the long, jeweled dagger hidden beneath his sleeveless coat. Shefollowed his watchful eyes to the three Bedouin merchants approaching them onthe other side of the main street, each leading a lumbering camel.
Leila bowed her head modestly until the men had passed,very much aware that they studied her curiously, their dark eyes glinting inthe golden lamplight. She did not feel threatened, but in that fleeting instantshe was reluctantly grateful forSuhel'scompany.
With the eunuch taking the lead again they walked on,passing the Great Mosque with its three graceful minarets; one of them, theMinaret of the Bride, was the oldest in Islam. At the northwest corner of themosque stood the tomb of Saladin, the most powerful sultan of theAyubitedynasty, who had won back Jerusalem almost a hundredyears ago from the crusaders led by Richard the Lion-Hearted.
"Crusaders," Leila muttered in disgust, againrecalling her mother's anxious voice. "Vile barbarians, every one."
It shamed her to think she was bred from such atreacherous and unscrupulous race. Though Eve had taught her the crusaders'language as a little girl, Leila rarely used it now, preferring to speakArabic. Nor had her mother ever insisted she speak the foreign tongue, evenwhen they were alone.
Eve had told her practically nothing about her truefather or the strange, distant land called England. It was almost as if Eve wasloath to dredge up old, probably painful memories.Which wasfine with Leila.Such knowledge was of no consequence to her. Her homewas here in Damascus.
All she knew of the crusaders was that every time theirships landed upon the shores of the Arab Empire, they brought discord andbrutal destruction to a society of refinement, culture, and unsurpassedlearning. It was enough to make her hate them all.
"We are . . . almost there, mistress,"Suhelsaid raggedly, beginning to wheeze from exertion. Theclimb up the crooked street to the citadel, the fortress overlooking the city,was steep. The governor's prison was just outside the citadel's thick,honey-colored walls.
Leila's stomach knotted as they neared the forbiddingflat-roofed building in anticipation of what she would find inside. Sheremembered the stench. The tortured screaming. The rats.
