'I pray you swift success,' Cait told him. 'Achieve your aim and you shall win a loyal and loving friend.'
'Praise Allah the Magnificent! I could ask for nothing finer.'
So caught up were they in pledging their fealty to one another, neither saw Rognvald's tight, slightly scornful grimace as he lifted his cup to his mouth. 'Do you have a wife, Lord Hasan?' he asked abruptly.
The prince regarded him with mild surprise. 'I have been married, yes-once, when I was a very young man,' he said.
'Only once? I thought Muhammedans kept wives the same way herders keep cattle.'
Cait, incensed at the knight's bad manners, glared furiously at him in an effort to make him desist. He took no notice.
'Some may take more than one wife. It is permitted,' Hasan forced a thin smile, 'although not advised. As the great Qadi Tukhmin has said, 'A house with many wives is like a ship with many oars, but no rudder.' And you, my friend, have you ever been married?'
'No,' replied Rognvald, returning to his cup. 'One day, perhaps -God willing. But not yet.'
Hasan nodded sympathetically. 'God wills all good things for his children. I am sure you will find the very woman one day, and then qismah – your fate will be well and truly sealed.'
From somewhere outside of the hall, there came the sound of a gong. Instantly, Danji and her handmaidens rose and, bowing to the prince and his guests, they departed. The knights, sorry to see the women go, looked to their host for an explanation. 'It is the Hour of Covering the Fire,' Hasan told them. 'From ancient times, my people have observed this practice. You see, we were once a desert people and each night the signal was given to cover the fire so that all would know when it was time to sleep.' He smiled. 'But, please, you are guests in this house; you must not interrupt your revelry on account of this quaint custom.'
Seeing a chance to establish some small authority of his own in this strange place, Rognvald said, 'We will observe your custom, Lord Hasan. For we, too, must sleep if we are to renew our search in the morning.' He stood. 'I thank you for your kind consideration. Certainly, it was the best meal we have had in a very long time. Now, if you please, we will leave you in peace.' To Cait, he said, 'I bid you good night, my lady.'
The other knights, recognizing the signal, rose-albeit somewhat more reluctantly-and, following the example of their lord, took their leave. They walked from the banqueting room, leaving Cait and the prince alone.
'I cannot remember a more lavish and delightful feast, Prince Hasan,' Cait said. 'Your kindness and generosity have made this a night I will never forget.'
The prince smiled and inclined his head. 'Your praise is more than my small effort deserves.' He paused, regarding Cait with a pensive expression. 'Alas, I do not think your Lord Rognvald approved. He is a cold one, to be sure, but I had hoped the festivity would have warmed him a little.'
'Please, I pray you, do not take a moment's thought for him. He is a frozen Norwegian who cannot accept kindness when it is offered.' Cait spoke with more vehemence than she felt, but did so for Hasan's sake. 'Proud men often disdain the benevolence of others.'
'Ah, you are as wise as you are lovely,' sighed the prince. 'It is rare in my experience to find those two qualities united in one woman. For, as the poet says, 'What can be bought with wisdom's coin, that beauty does not own?' But you, Ketmia, possess both in abundance.'
No one had ever called her beautiful before, and Caitriona did not know how to reply. She tried to think of something to say, growing more and more uncomfortable as the prince, blissfully silent, regarded her with delight akin to rapture, until at last, she said, 'It has been a most enjoyable night, and I thank you – not least for undertaking to help us find my sister.' She rose slowly. 'I must sleep now if I am to be ready to ride in the morning. So, I will bid you God's rest, my lord.'
'To be sure,' said the prince, rising slowly. 'I will have Jubayar escort you to the women's quarter.'
Taking her arm, he led her to the anteroom where a very tall, very fat man was standing beside the large brass gong. He wore a pale blue turban and long, unbelted mantle. His face was beardless, revealing a livid scar running from the point of his chin to his collarbone. He regarded Cait with a sleepy haughtiness, his large, fleshy features impassive as she came before him.
'This,' said the prince, 'is Jubayar. He is one of my most trusted servants. He is a eunuch, and therefore has charge of the women's house. You will be entirely safe in his protection.'
The big man bowed, but said nothing when Cait attempted to greet him.
'Jubayar!' the prince shouted, and then, as an afterthought explained to Cait: 'He is also very deaf. But he can be made to understand if you speak loudly-although he knows no Latin.' Turning once more to the large eunuch, he spoke a rapid burst of Arabic, whereupon the servant bowed and, with a last glance at Cait, began leading the way down the corridor. Cait thanked the prince once more, bade him a good night, and then hurried after her surly escort.
Mahdi and Pila'i were asleep when Cait entered the room; both young women slept on thin pallets at the foot of her bed. They roused themselves as she entered, and helped her undress, folding the numerous items of clothing and carefully stowing them away in the wooden chest. They brought out a loose-fitting silk gown which she put on and, as Pila'i prepared her cushions, Mahdi brushed her hair and then skilfully braided it so that it would not grow tangled in the night.
Leaving her maids to put out the lamps, Cait drifted off to the first truly restful sleep since leaving home. That night she saw Alethea in a dream.
She dreamed that she and her sister were in Caithness. It was a fair summer day, and the two of them were walking along the brow of the high promontory to the south-east of Banvard. The wind was fresh and the sun bright on the water in the bay far below; she could hear the rush and tumble of the waves, and the mewing of the seabirds as they wheeled and circled in the wide, cloudless sky.
Alethea was talking about something which Caitriona could not make out; she listened in a half-hearted way as Thea droned on and on, her voice growing slowly fainter-until Cait could no longer hear her any more. Cait stopped and looked around, but could not see her sister. She called out once and again, but there was no reply.
Fighting down the panic rising in her breast, Cait tried two more times, with no better result; on the third try, she heard Thea answer. The voice came from the direction of the sea, but sounded far away. Realizing what must have happened, Cait rushed to the edge of the promontory and, fearing the worst, looked over. Instead of seeing Thea's mangled body lying on the rocks below, she saw instead a steep and narrow trail leading down to the shingle beach, and Thea herself halfway down along the precipitous track.
'Thea, wait!' she cried. 'Go no further. Wait for me, I am coming to help you.'
At her cry, Alethea looked back over her shoulder to where Cait was starting down the treacherous path. 'Cait, no!' she called. 'Do not follow me. It is for me to go on alone.'
'You will be killed,' Cait shouted. 'Come back.'
Thea shook her head gently. 'No harm will come to me.' She put out her hand and pointed to the bay far below. 'You see,' she said, 'they have come for me. I must go with them.'
Cait looked and saw that a boat had entered the cove, and was making landfall. There were a number of women in the boat, and they were all dressed alike in long hooded robes of grey with a small, curiously short mantle of white covering their shoulders. Two of the women climbed out of the boat and waded to the shore; they came to stand at the water's edge and, looking up, beckoned Thea to them.
'Farewell, darling sister. Do not feel sorry for me. I have never been happier.'
With that, she turned and proceeded down the steep and winding trail. Cait continued to call after her, but she neither looked back, nor gave any other sign that she heard-until, after joining the two figures on the shore, she turned and lifted a hand in farewell. Cait watched as her sister waded out to the waiting boat and climbed aboard; the boat turned and made its way from the cove and out into the empty sea.
Cait stood on the clifftop long after the boat was out of sight. When she at last turned from the wide expanse of water, she saw the sky was dark with angry clouds and rain was beginning to spatter the ground at her feet. She could hear the howl of the wind rising out of the east, and knew there was a storm coming. Still, she refused to leave the place she had last seen dear Alethea.
It was not until the lightning raked the clouds with jagged talons, and thunder trembled the ground beneath her feet, that she finally turned away – only to find that the sky had grown dark and she could no longer see the path. The wind whirled around her, dashing rain in her eyes and tearing at her clothes and hair. She threw a hand before her face and staggered forward, the force of the wind almost knocking her to the ground.
