A Memory of Love

'I must think on it,' Rashid al Ahmet replied. 'I do long for a daughter as beautiful as she is.'

'Does she wish for a child, my lord?' the chief eunuch asked.

'She has not said so,' the caliph answered.

'Then let well enough alone, my lord,' Baba Haroun pleaded.

The caliph turned to Alia. 'What are your thoughts on this, my honored first wife? You are remarkably silent in this matter.'

'As always, Rashid, I want what will make you happy,' Alia told him. 'Mohammed is fourteen now, and little Omar almost six. If Noor gave you a son, I cannot see any danger to my son. By the time this child was grown Mohammed would have fathered his own sons, and Omar, too. Besides, I do not see that kind of ambition in Noor. And she might indeed give you a daughter, not a son. But if she has expressed no wish for a child, you would be wise not to force the issue for now.'

'I must think on it,' the caliph repeated, but both Alia and Baba Haroun knew that he had already made up his mind. He wanted a child from Noor and would not be satisfied until he had one.

'My lord, of interest to you, perhaps,' Baba Haroun said, 'there is a young poet in the city-the foreigners call him a minstrel. His songs are drawing many to the tavern of Akram Yasir. I have gone myself and heard him. He sings in both our language and the many languages of the world. Perhaps before he goes on his way we should have him to the palace to entertain. He is pleasant to look upon and nicely spoken. I believe the harem ladies and the children would enjoy him, as I am certain would you, my lord.'

'Very well,' the caliph said, 'you may issue my invitation.'

The chief eunuch bowed low and hurried off.

The caliph left his first wife, and Alia sent one of her women to ask the lady Noor if she would come and join her. Rhonwyn came willingly, for she liked Alia and enjoyed her company. When the first wife dismissed all of her women so that they were alone, Rhonwyn knew that something important was about to happen.

'What is it?' she asked Alia.

'Do you love Rashid?' Alia said softly.

'I respect him and I love his passion,' Rhonwyn replied carefully.

'But do you love him?' Alia persisted.

Rhonwyn shook her head. 'No,' she said quietly. 'My memories of Edward de Beaulieu are yet strong in my head. Perhaps one day they will not be, and I will love Rashid. Allah only knows he has been patient and kind. You arouse guilt within me by asking such a question, Alia. Why is it you do so? Surely you do not think I mean Rashid any harm?'

'No, no!' Alia replied. 'I ask because of something he has said. He wants a child from you, Noor. Do you want a child?'

Rhonwyn looked astounded. 'A child? I had not thought of having a child. A child would bind me to Rashid. With Edward…' She paused, and then said, 'You know how it was with Edward, my friend. We were just beginning to explore our love when I was snatched away from him. Thinking on it, I know now that I should have liked to have borne Edward's children. Why does Rashid want a child of my body? He has children to follow him. I am his plaything, his latest passion. I am certainly nothing more to him than that, Alia.'

'He loves you, Noor. Do you not realize it? Rashid is in love with you. That is why he wants a child of your body.' The caliph's first wife looked deeply into the eyes of her beautiful companion. 'Oh, my poor Noor,' she said. 'You have been awakened to passion, but you know nought of love, do you?'

'I love Edward!' Rhonwyn cried.

'I wonder if you really did, my dear. I wonder if he truly loved you. You did not know each other long enough, and your relationship, from what you have told me, was quite adversarial most of the time you were together. You were yet a child, playing at your games of war with your weapons. You were careless and heedless of what would happen to you, else you would not have rushed off to join a battle and be captured. You would have withdrawn to your sick husband's side at the first alarm of trouble, Noor. But you did not. You thought only of yourself, not of Edward de Beau-lieu, didn't you? I say these things not to distress you, my friend, but to waken you.

'You are loved by a good and powerful man. Open yourself to that love. Passion shared between two people who love one another is far more potent than passion merely shared between a man and a woman, my Noor. This I know from my own experience. A child bom of such a love is a most fortunate child,' Alia concluded.

Rhonwyn's hand had gone to her mouth in startled realization as Alia had spoken to her. She had been a child. Selfish and determined to have her own way in everything. What a disservice she had done Edward. And ap Gruffydd as well. But despite Alias words, Rhonwyn knew she could not love Rashid al Ahmet as Alia did. More than ever now she wished she could return to Edward de Beaulieu and tell him of all she had learned. Not just of passion but of herself. She wanted them to begin again, but it was impossible. She would have to go through life bearing the guilt for thoughtlessly abandoning him for her own pleasure. And she had an added guilt in the caliph who loved her.

'You look so stricken,' Alia said. 'I did not mean to make you unhappy, Noor.' She reached out and patted her friend's arm.

'Nay,' Rhonwyn said. 'You have but made me face myself for the first time in my life, Alia. I am not certain I like what I see. I wonder if I understand what love is at all.'

'Let Rashid teach you!' Alia pleaded.

'How can you say that to me when it is obvious that you love him with all your heart? How can you so willingly share him, Alia?'

'Because I love him, and hecause it is our way,' the older woman said. 'It is not possible for one woman to satisfy a man. A man is like a honeybee and needs many flowers to keep him happy.'

Rhonwyn shook her head in despair. 'Four years ago,' she said, 'I lived in a border fortress with my brother and a garrison of rough men who had raised me. I knew nothing of being a woman. I didn't even know God, Alia. My brain aches with all I have learned in these last years.' She sighed.' I will try to love Rashid, I promise you, but why would you encourage me to have a child? What if it is another son? My son could rival your son. Do you want that?'

'Mohammed will follow his father and will be years older than any son you bear our lord,' Alia said assuredly.

'Is it custom that the eldest son follows his father here in Cin-nebar?' Rhonwyn asked Alia.

'No,' Alia answered, 'but everyone knows Mohammed is to follow his father onto the throne of Cinnebar.'

'What if I bear the caliph a son? What if the caliph does not go to his reward in Paradise until that son is twenty years of age? What if he loves my son better than yours because of the love he has for me? And loving my son better, he names him the next caliph? How would you feel about that, Alia?' Rhonwyn asked her friend.

Alias face was a mask of her conflicting emotions, but then she answered honestly, '1 should not like that, Noor.'

'And therein lies the danger,' Rhonwyn replied. 'I would rather have your friendship, Alia, than bear a son to rival yours.'

'But you might have a daughter,' Alia said, 'and he truly desires a daughter from you. He has already fathered two sons and two daughters. You could have a daughter, Noor.'

'His passion is hot and potent for me, Alia. His seed is copious when he releases it into my hidden garden. I could have a son. I know what is clone to prevent conception here in the harem, for Nilak has explained it to me. Please, give me a little more time before you withdraw that special brew from me. I need to think. So do you. He need never know. I care not if he thinks me barren, Alia. He will not stop loving me or gaining pleasure from my body. Perhaps I can even learn to love him a little bit to add to his delight,' Rhonwyn said.

'She speaks more sense than I would have thought,' Baba Haroun said, stepping from behind a wall hanging.