‘The word of the king is law and the other carnivores in the valley did not dare disobey him. The camel was given free rein and he was full of gratitude. With time he became plump and his coat glossy. Now, the lion’s closest companions were three – an elderly jaguar, a gossipy black crow and an entertaining hyena. They circled the king and, for their livelihood, they depended on the meat the lion hunted. Their loyalty was unquestionable and when they spoke, the lion tended to listen.
‘One day, whilst out hunting, the lion was badly injured by a bull. He withdrew to tend to his injury and, like other wounded animals, fasted from food. The onus fell on the jaguar to hunt for food for the others. But the jaguar was old and what it managed to bring in was barely enough for its own needs and that of the crow and hyena. The situation actually got worse when the king’s health started to improve. No longer fasting, the biggest share of the meat went to him, while even less was left over for the other three. Taking the jaguar and hyena aside, the crow said to them, ‘‘This cannot go on. We will die without food. The only solution is to eat the camel. He is not one of us. He is a vegetarian and we are carnivores. He is a newcomer while we are citizens of this valley from birth. He is a lowly refugee while our ancestors roamed these lands since time began. In these difficult circumstances that are beyond our control, it is the camel that must be sacrificed. I will petition His Majesty on that matter.’’
‘The lion, however, did not even allow the crow to finish its speech. He was incensed. ‘‘Did I not promise the camel safety?’’ he roared. ‘‘Did I not give him my word of honour? How dare you make such a proposal?’’ He attempted to lunge at the crow, but the pain of his wound flared up and he lay down again.
‘The crow was not deterred. It gathered the jaguar and the hyena and together they hatched a plot against the camel. They went to him and it was the crow who spoke first. ‘‘Dear camel,’’ said the crow. ‘‘The king is slowly starving. As his loyal citizens we cannot sit back and let this happen. Therefore, the jaguar, the hyena and I are going to formally offer him our lives.’’
‘The camel was taken aback. The jaguar was old, the hyena a pack of bones and there was hardly any meat on the crow. ‘‘Will the king actually eat you?’’ the camel asked.
‘ ‘‘Of course not,’’ said the crow. ‘‘It is merely a formality. A show of loyalty and gratitude.’’
‘ ‘‘Then I must join you,’’ said the camel, and the four set off together.
‘One by one, led by the crow, the animals laid their life down before the king. ‘‘The crow is a scrawny thing, there is more meat on me,’’ said the jaguar. ‘‘The jaguar is old and tough,’’ said the hyena. ‘‘Eat me instead.’’
‘Roused by these noble sentiments of sacrifice and altruism, the camel cried out, ‘‘Your Majesty, I am young and healthy. Please eat me. Look at the lustre of my coat and the plump meat that covers my bones. I am the one most worthy of your palate.’’
‘ ‘‘He’s right,’’ said the crow and without further ado the jaguar leapt at the camel’s throat.’
‘Oh no,’ Iman cried out. ‘What did the lion do? Didn’t he stop them?’
‘No,’ said the Hoopoe. ‘The lion looked away.’
Chapter Seven
Salma was talking to Amir. She knew she shouldn’t, but here she was in the cloister of the monastery where the phone signal was strongest, using up her data. He was miles away and she was safe from sin, the disloyalty symbolic not actual, too airy to be incriminating. This gave her courage, or arrogance; she could not be touched and so could not be blamed. This was a virtual game, which she could enter and exit, unscathed, incurring no losses. What was it like hearing his voice? Exactly as she remembered. Nothing had changed. All these years – eighteen, nineteen years – could have been weeks or months.
‘What’s your daughter’s name?’ she asked and immediately forgot his response. Her mind couldn’t retain the new changes, though this was what they talked about at first. Bringing each other up to date, although they had already done that with messages and emails. There was a need to repeat the facts, though the facts continued to remain abstract. He now had a six-year-old daughter. So what? It had nothing to do with their shared memories, the future they had planned but never executed, the places they had sat in and talked about how much they meant to each other.
They spoke about mutual friends. Who was working where, who had married whom, and the ones who had died prematurely. They lingered a little over this last small group – the particulars of their illnesses or fatal accidents, where they last were, how old, but then they quickly moved on, leaving them behind.
