money on women?’ The boy nodded. Imad turned his penetrating gaze upon Rakin. ‘Tell me about the woman you purchased, Rakin.’
‘She-she was beautiful,’ Rakin stammered.
Imad ad-Din nodded. ‘I am sure. Of what did her beauty consist?’
Rakin stared up to the ceiling, as if he might see a picture of the woman painted there. ‘She had brown eyes-and brown hair-and brown skin. She had very large breasts.’
‘And were they brown as well?’ Rakin’s blush deepened. He nodded. ‘Very well,’ Imad ad-Din said with a frown. ‘You may both sit.’ Imad ad-Din dipped a quill in ink and wrote something, then turned to Turan. ‘Do you have anything to add?’
‘Akhtar, the owner of the tavern, is here,’ Turan said, gesturing towards a thin-faced man seated cross- legged behind him.
The man had thinning black hair, light skin and dark rings under his eyes. His rather gentle features were marred by a cleft lip. ‘He will vouch for my story.’
‘Come forward, Akhtar,’ Imad ad-Din said. The tavern owner unfolded his long limbs and rose.
‘Your Exthellenthe,’ he lisped and bowed to Ayub, who nodded back. Akhtar turned to face Imad ad- Din.
‘Were Turan and his friends at your tavern yesterday?’ Imad ad-Din asked.
‘Yeth.’
‘And what did they do there?’
‘They gambled, thmoked hashish and had women. As usual.’
‘Turan is a regular client?’ Akhtar nodded. ‘And what of this brown girl? The prostitute?’
‘Buthayna,’ Akhtar said. ‘She is from Africa, and she doeth have very large breast-th. You can come to my tavern and examine her, if you like.’
Imad ad-Din grimaced. ‘That will not be necessary. You may sit.’ He turned to Yusuf and waved him forward. Yusuf kept his head up and met his teacher’s gaze. ‘Turan presents a strong case,’ Imad ad-Din said. ‘What do you have to say in your defence, Yusuf?’
‘I was with you, ustadh, all afternoon. Before that, I was in Baalbek with my servant, John, practising swordplay. I could not have done this crime.’
‘John, is this true?’ Imad ad-Din asked, looking to the slave.
John stood. ‘Yes, ustadh. It is as my master says.’
‘He lies!’ Turan spat. ‘The word of a slave means nothing.’
‘That is enough, Turan,’ Imad ad-Din admonished. He turned back to Yusuf. ‘But he is correct. A slave’s word stands for nothing in court. Did anyone else see you practising?’
‘No,’ Yusuf admitted. ‘We practised in the Roman temple. No one saw us.’
‘How convenient,’ Turan snorted.
Imad ad-Din ignored the outburst. ‘And after our lesson, how did you return from the temple?’
‘I rode.’
‘And your servant?’
Yusuf opened his mouth, then froze. The truth was that John had ridden with him because of the rain, but if he spoke true, then it would only condemn him. After all, Waqar had captured one of Ayub’s horses. It would look as if Yusuf and John had raided the camp, then been forced to ride back together.
‘I-I-’ Yusuf stuttered.
‘I saw you and John ride away on the same horse, Yusuf,’ Imad ad-Din said.
‘The case is settled then!’ Waqar burst out. He pointed a stubby finger in Yusuf’s direction. ‘It must have been the young one!’
‘No!’ Yusuf protested. ‘I did not do it.’ He breathed deeply, trying to remain calm. Everything pointed to his guilt: the testimony of Akhtar; Yusuf’s own lack of witnesses; his return with John on a single horse – that was it! ‘I can prove my innocence!’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Turan spluttered.
Imad ad-Din held up a hand to silence Turan. ‘Explain yourself, Yusuf.’
‘Ustadh, you met me at the temple after afternoon prayers,’ Yusuf said.
‘So?’ Turan interjected. ‘This proves nothing. You could have raided the Bedouin camp in the morning.’
‘On the contrary,’ Yusuf countered. ‘Waqar has told us that he was camped in the mountains, several leagues up the Orontes River. Even had I pressed my horse, it would have taken me from sunrise to nearly midday just to reach Waqar’s tents. Then, if I turned and rode straight back, I would have arrived just in time for my lesson.’
‘I do not understand,’ Ayub said. ‘By your own admission, then, you could have done this crime.’
‘No. Imad ad-Din has said that my slave and I returned on one horse. He speaks true. There is no way that we could have ridden from this man’s camp on one horse and arrived so quickly, much less would we have had time to rape his daughter or to roast and eat a goat.’ Yusuf gestured towards Turan, whose face had begun to turn red. ‘By his own admission, Turan left early and was gone all day. He had more than enough time to commit this crime.’
Imad ad-Din stroked his beard. ‘Very clever, Yusuf.’ Yusuf exhaled in relief, but then Imad ad-Din continued. ‘But this proves nothing. I saw you leave the temple on one horse, but that does not mean that you could not have ridden back from the Bedouin camp on two. And besides, I cannot place your reasoning – no matter how clever – above the word of three men. Do you have anything else to add before I pass judgement?’ Yusuf’s mind raced, but he could think of no way to prove his innocence. ‘Very well,’ Imad ad-Din sighed. ‘Turan, come forward. I am prepared to deliver my verdict.’
Turan rose to join Yusuf. ‘Who is the clever one now, little brother?’ he whispered under his breath.
Imad ad-Din cleared his throat. ‘Yusuf, I find that-’
‘Wait!’ Yusuf interrupted. ‘I have something to add.’ He glanced at Turan. ‘My brother spoke true about one thing: he could not have committed this crime.’
‘What do you mean?’ Imad ad-Din asked, his eyes wide.
Yusuf looked to the floor. ‘I-I cannot say.’
‘Speak!’ Ayub told him. ‘I command it.’
‘Very well.’ Yusuf looked to Waqar. ‘The beauty of your daughter is well known. Turan never would have ridden so far to be with her.’
‘And why not?’ Imad ad-Din asked.
Yusuf took a deep breath. ‘I know my brother. He has no feeling for women.’
‘What!’ Turan cried.
‘He might be interested in the goat, ya sidi, but not your daughter.’
Turan raised a fist and took a step towards Yusuf. ‘You lie!’
‘I speak the truth,’ Yusuf shouted over his brother. ‘Turan would never have touched her.’
‘You lying bastard!’ Turan shoved Yusuf, knocking him to the ground and stood over him, his hands clenched into fists. ‘I had the girl! More than once! You are the goat-fucker!’
The room fell silent. All eyes fixed on Turan. His face reddened as he realized what he had said. ‘You bastard,’ he growled at Yusuf. ‘You tricked me!’ He lunged for Yusuf, but Ayub’s man Abaan grabbed him from behind and held him back.
As Yusuf rose from the floor, he looked past Turan to his father, who was shaking his head in disgust. ‘Imad ad-Din, what do you say?’ Ayub asked.
‘Turan has admitted his guilt. Let justice be done.’
‘But Father-’ Turan began.
‘Silence!’ Ayub snapped. He rose and everyone in the hall did likewise. Ayub turned to Waqar. ‘We are brothers now. My oldest son will marry your daughter.’ He placed his hands on the shepherd’s shoulders, and kissed him three times on the lips. Waqar nodded, speechless. There were tears of joy in his eyes.
Ayub turned from Waqar and approached Turan. ‘You disappoint me, my son. Maybe marriage will cool your blood.’ He marched out of the hall, leaving Turan red-faced.
Yusuf leaned close to his brother. ‘Congratulations on your marriage, Brother,’ he whispered, then followed his father from the hall.
