“Jamal, my little girl!”
Rebecca raised her eyes. She stared at the head in the window high above her, and her eyes flew wide in recognition. She looked around her quickly, to make certain that the Dervish guards at the doors had noticed nothing. Then she stood up and crossed the floor slowly, carrying Amber, until she stood directly under the high window. She looked up again, and mouthed a single word: “Mayya! Water!” She lifted Amber’s face and touched her chapped, swollen lips. “Water!” she said again.
Nazeera nodded and climbed down the wall. She pushed her way through the crowds, searching frantically until she found the old woman with the donkey she had noticed earlier. The animal was so heavily laden with waterskins and bags of dhurra bread that its legs splayed outwards. The old woman was doing a thriving business with the hungry and thirsty crowds along the waterfront.
“I wish to buy food and one of your skins, old mother.”
“I still have a little bread and dried meat to sell, and for three pice you may drink your fill, but I will never sell one of my waterskins,” said the woman firmly. She changed her mind when Nazeera showed her a silver dollar.
With the small waters king slung over her shoulder, Nazeera hurried back to the front entrance of the Customs House. There were five guards at the main door. They stood with drawn swords, holding the curious throng at a respectful distance. Nazeera saw at a glance that they were all men of her tribe, the Beja. Then, with a twinge of excitement, she recognized one. He was of the same clan and had been circumcised at the same time as her dead husband. They had ridden beneath the banner of the Emir Osman Atalan, before the rise of the Mahdi when their world had been sane and sensible, not yet maddened by the new fanaticism.
She sidled closer to the doors, but the man she knew made a threatening gesture with his sword, warning her to come no closer.
“AH Wad!” Nazeera called in a low tone. “My husband rode with you on the famous raid to Gondar when you slew fifty-five Christian Abyssinians and captured two hundred and fifty fine camels.”
He lowered the sword and stared at her in astonishment. “What is your husband’s name, woman!” he demanded.
“His name was Taher Sherif, and he was killed by the Jaalin at Tushkit Wells. You were with him the day he died.”
“Then you are the Nazeera who was once reckoned beautiful.” His stern expression relaxed.
Her old feelings of affection for him stirred. “When we were all young together,” she agreed, and lowered the head cloth so he could see her face. “It seems to me, AH Wad, that you have become a man of great power. One who could still light the flame in any woman’s belly.”
He laughed. “Nazeera of the silvery tongue. The years have changed you little. What is it you seek from me now?” She told him and his smile faded. The scowl reappeared. “You ask me to risk my life.”
“As my husband gave his life for you… and as, once, his young widow risked more than her life for your pleasure. Have you forgotten?”
“I have not. AH Wad does not forget his friends. Come with me.”
He led her in through the main door, and the guards within deferred to him respectfully. She followed him, and Rebecca ran to her. They embraced ecstatically and tearfully. Even in her extremity Amber recognized her and whispered to her, “I love you, Nazeera. Do you still love me?”
“With all my heart, Zahra. I have brought water and food.” She led them to a corner of the hall and they huddled close together. Nazeera mixed some of the powder with water in the mug she had brought from the palace. She held it to Amber’s lips. She drank greedily.
While this was going on AH Wad glowered at the other prisoners. “These three women,” he indicated Nazeera and her charges, ‘are under my protection. Interfere with them at your peril, for I am a man of ugly moods. It gives me great pleasure to beat women with this kurbash.” He showed them the wicked hippo-hide whip. “I love to hear them squeal.”
They cringed away from him fearfully. Then he stooped and whispered in Nazeera’s ear. She cast down her eyes and giggled coquettishly. AH Wad stalked back to his post at the door, grinning and stroking his beard.
The water revived Amber miraculously. “What has happened to my sister?” she whispered, “Where is Saffy?”
“She is safe with al-Sakhawi,” Nazeera assured her. “I saw her go on board his steamer before I returned to you.” At this wonderful news Rebecca was too overcome with relief to speak. Instead she threw her arms round Nazeera and hugged her.
“You must stop weeping now, Jamal,” Nazeera told her sternly. “We must all be clever, strong and careful, if we are to survive the difficult days that lie ahead.”
“Now that you are back with us, and I know Saffy is safe, I can face whatever comes. What will the Dervish do with us?”
Nazeera did not answer at once but glanced significantly at Amber. “First you must eat and drink to remain strong. Then we shall talk.”
She gave them a little of the dhurra bread. Amber managed a few mouthfuls, and kept them down. Nazeera nodded with satisfaction, and took her on to her own lap to allow Rebecca a chance to eat and rest. She stroked Amber’s hair and crooned softly to her. The child fell asleep almost at once. “She will be well again within days. Young ones have the most resilience.”
“What will happen to us?” Rebecca repeated her question.
Nazeera pursed her lips as she considered how much she should say. As much of the truth as is good for her, she decided. “You and all these women are part of the spoils of war, as much as horses and camels.” Rebecca glanced at the sorry creatures around her, and felt momentary pity for them, until she remembered that she and Amber were in the same predicament. “The Dervisji will use them as they wish. The old and ugly will become house and kitchen slaves. The young and nubile will be used as concubines. You are young and surpassingly beautiful. Your hair and pale skin will intrigue all men.”
Rebecca shuddered. She had never imagined what it might be like to fall under the power of a man of different race. Now the thought sickened her. “Will they draw lots for us?” She had read in Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire that that was what soldiers did.
“No. The Dervish leaders will select those they want. The Mahdi will choose first, then the others in order of their rank and power. The Mahdi will choose you, there is no doubt of that. And it is good. He is the best for us, far better than any of the others.”
“Tell me why. Explain this to me. How can you know what he is like in his zenanaV
“He already has over three hundred wives and concubines, and his women talk. It is widely known where his tastes lie, what he likes to do with his women.”
Rebecca looked puzzled, “Don’t all men do the same thing, like ’
She broke off, but Nazeera finished the question for her: “You mean the same as Abadan Riji and al-Sakhawi have done to you?”
Rebecca blushed scarlet. “I forbid you to speak to me like that ever again.”
“I shall try to remember,” Nazeera replied, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘but the answer to your question is that some men want different things from their women.”
Rebecca thought about that, then lowered her eyes shyly. “Different things. What is the different thing that the Mahdi wants? What will he do to me?”
Nazeera glanced down at Amber to make sure she was asleep, then leant closer to Rebecca, cupped her hand to her ear and whispered. Rebecca jerked back. “My mouth!” she gasped. “That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard.”
“Nay, silly girl. Think a moment. With a man you do not love, or one you hate, it is quicker, easier and less uncomfortable. You do not lose your precious maidenhead, or if you have already done so, nobody is any the wiser. Even more important, there are no undesired consequences.”
“I can see that with certain men this might be preferable.” Then another thought struck her, and her expression changed again. She looked intrigued. “What is it like … to do that to a man or let him do it to you?”
“First, remember this. With the Mahdi you obey him in all things with every semblance of pleasure and joy. Only one thing is vitally important. With the Mahdi you must never display repugnance. He is divine, but in these matters he is as vain as all other men. Unlike other men, however, he has in his hands the power of life and death,
