is accused – chosen from amongst the phuro and the phuro – dai. The elders.’
‘And this is an important case?’
‘Important? It is life or death for you.’
22
Sabir found himself ushered, with a certain amount of formal politeness, on to a bench set into the earth in front of and below, the Bulibasha. Yola settled on the ground behind him, her legs drawn up beneath her. Sabir assumed that she had been allocated this spot in order to translate the proceedings to him, for she was the only woman in the assembly.
The main body of women and children were congregated behind and to the right of the Bulibasha, in the position Yola always took in relation to him. Sabir noticed, too, that the women were all wearing their best clothes and that the older, married women were sporting headscarves and prodigious amounts of gold jewellery. Unusually, they were made up with heavy kohl around the eyes and their hair, beneath their scarves, no longer hung free, but was instead put up in ringlets and elaborate braids. Some had henna on their hands and a few of the grandmothers were smoking.
The Bulibasha held up a hand for silence, but everybody continued talking. It seemed that the debate about Sabit was already well under way.
Impatiently, the Bulibasha indicated that the man who had stretched Sabir’s testicles for the knife should come forward.
‘That is my cousin. He is going to speak against you.’
‘Oh.’
‘He likes you. It is not personal. But he must do this for the family.’
‘I suppose they’re going to joint me like a pig if this thing goes against me?’ Sabir tried to sound as though he was joking, but his voice cracked halfway through and gave him away.
‘They will kill you, yes.’
‘And the upside?’
‘What is that?’
‘What happens if things go my way?’ Sabir was sweating badly now.
‘Then you will become my brother. You will be responsible for me. For my virginity. For my marriage. You will take my brother’s place in everything. ‘
‘I don’t understand.’
Yola sighed impatiently. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. ‘The only reason you are still alive today is that my brother made you his phral. His blood brother. He also told you to come back here amongst us and ask for a Kriss. You did this. We then had no choice but to honour his dying wish. For what a dying man asks for, he must get. And my brother knew that he would die when he did this thing to you.’
‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘He hated payos – Frenchmen – more even than he detested gadjes . He would never have asked one to be a brother to him except in the most extreme of circumstances.’
‘But I’m not a payo. Okay, my mother’s French, but my father’s American and I was born and brought up in the United States.’
‘But you speak perfect French. My brother would have judged you on that.’
Sabir shook his head in bewilderment.
Yola’s cousin was now addressing the assembly. But even with his fluent command of French, Sabir was having difficulty making out what was being said.
‘What language is that?’
‘Sinto.’
‘Great. Could you please tell me what he is saying?’
‘That you killed my brother. That you have come amongst us to steal something that belongs to our family. That you are an evil man and that God visited this recent illness on you to prove that you are not telling the truth about what happened to Babel. He also says that it is because of you that the police have come amongst us and that you are a disciple of the Devil.’
‘And you say he likes me?’
Yola nodded. ‘Alexi thinks you are telling the truth. He looked into your eyes when you thought that you were about to die and he saw your soul. It seemed white to him, not black.’
‘Then why is he saying all this stuff about me?’
‘You should be pleased. He is exaggerating terribly. Many of us here feel that you did not kill my brother. They will hope that the Bulibasha gets angry with what is being said and pronounces you innocent.’
‘And do you think I killed your brother?’
‘I will only know this when the Bulibasha gives his verdict.’
23
Sabir tried to look away from what was happening in front of him, but couldn’t. Yola’s cousin Alexi was giving a masterclass in applied histrionics. If this was someone secretly on his side, then Sabir decided that he would rather sup with the Devil and have done with it.
Alexi was on his knees in front of the assembled judges, weeping and tearing at his hair. His face and body were covered with dirt and his shirt was torn open, revealing three gold necklaces and a crucifix.
Sabir glanced at the Bulibasha’s face for any signs that he was becoming impatient with Alexi’s dramatics, but, to all intents and purposes, he seemed to be drinking the stuff in. One of the younger children, whom Sabir assumed must be one of the Bulibasha’s daughters, had even crept on to his capacious lap and was bouncing up and down in her excitement.
‘Do I get to say my piece?’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Someone else will talk for you.’
‘Who, for Christ’s sake? Everybody here seems to want me killed.’
‘Me. I will speak for you.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘I have told you. It was my brother’s dying wish.’
Sabir realised that Yola didn’t want to be drawn any further. ‘What’s happening now?’
‘The Bulibasha is asking whether my brother’s family would be happy if you paid them gold for his life.’
‘And what are they saying?’
‘No. They want to cut your throat.’
Sabir allowed his mind to wander briefly into a fantasy of escape. With everybody concentrating on Alexi, he might at least manage a five-yard head start before they brought him down at the edge of the camp. Action, not reaction – wasn’t that how they trained soldiers to respond to an ambush?
Alexi got up off the ground, shook himself and walked past Sabir, grinning. He even winked.
‘He seems to think he put that over rather well.’
‘Do not joke. The Bulibasha is talking to the other judges. Asking their opinion. At this stage it is important how he begins to think.’ She stood up. ‘Now I shall speak for you.’
‘You’re not going to do all that breast-beating stuff?’
‘I don’t know what I shall do. It will come to me.’
Sabir dropped his head on to his knees. Part of him still refused to believe that anyone was taking this seriously. Perhaps it was all some gigantic joke perpetrated on him by a tontine of disgruntled readers?
