passed through the valley of the Kadisha, where I found myself in the bed of a kind Frankish lady, the wife of a wine merchant.’ He paused as the servants entered with two more dishes – fragrant, roasted lamb with chickpeas and onions, and a dish of oranges and figs.
‘And how did you happen to find yourself in her bed?’ Khaldun asked.
‘It was an arduous journey,’ Usama said with a wink. ‘I was tired, which is what I told her husband when he returned and found us together. “What are you doing with my wife?” he demanded. I told him that I had come in to rest. I found the bed made up, so I lay down to sleep. “And my wife slept with you?” he asked. “The bed is hers,” I replied. “How could I prevent her from getting into her own bed?” The wine merchant, as you might imagine, grew quite upset at this. His face turned red and he shook his fist at me. And do you know what he said?’
‘I’ll kill you here and now?’ Yusuf offered. Usama shook his head.
‘I’ll have your balls for this, you Saracen bastard?’ Nur ad-Din suggested.
‘Not even close.’ Usama grinned as he anticipated the punch line.
‘Did he beat his wife for her infidelity?’ Khaldun asked.
‘No,’ Usama said. ‘He shook his fist and roared, “By God, if you do it again I will take you to court!”’
There was a moment of silence, and then Nur ad-Din began to roar with laughter. One by one, the others joined him, all except Turan and Nadhira. Yusuf examined his brother, who looked away and forced an unconvincing laugh.
‘But surely not all Franks are so permissive,’ Asimat said when the hilarity had subsided. ‘There must be some with a sense of honour.’
Usama nodded. ‘I have a theory regarding this. The longer the Franks remain in our lands, the more they adopt our ways. Eventually, they may even become civilized.’
‘Ridiculous,’ Turan snorted. ‘They will always be savages. It is in their nature.’
‘I am not so sure,’ Yusuf said. ‘I have a Frank amongst my men, a former slave. When I bought him, he was as dirty and savage as the rest of his kind. Now he dresses as we do. He reads and speaks Arabic. He is as civilized as any of us.’
‘You see!’ Usama declared.
Asimat turned her dark eyes upon Yusuf. ‘I should like to meet this Frank of yours.’
‘Of course.’
‘But is he a jealous man?’ Khaldun asked.
‘I do not know,’ Yusuf said. ‘I have never seen him with a woman.’
‘This is no man. He is a saint,’ Nur ad-Din declared. ‘Or a eunuch!’ He chuckled at his own joke.
‘And he proves nothing,’ Asimat added. ‘He may be civilized, but we know nothing of his sense of honour.’ She paused, glancing at Nur ad-Din. ‘Perhaps the Franks are not wrong to give their women more freedom.’
Nur ad-Din’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Freedom for what, Wife?’ he demanded, his voice rising. ‘To be prostitutes and whores? To bear other men’s children? No, women must be protected. Their place is in the home.’ He met Asimat’s eyes. ‘The good wife is the one who bears many sons. You do not need freedom to do that.’
‘Well said,’ Khaldun agreed, slapping the floor for emphasis.
Asimat flushed red. ‘I see,’ she said tersely. ‘I am not feeling well, Husband. Please excuse me.’ Nur ad-Din nodded, and Asimat rose.
‘Makin!’ Nur ad-Din called, and a mamluk stepped into the room. ‘Escort Asimat back to the palace.’ Asimat pulled her veil over her face and followed the mamluk out into the courtyard.
‘May Nadhira and I also be excused, Husband?’ Zimat asked Khaldun. He nodded, and the two women rose. ‘We will leave you men to your talk. Good-night, brothers,’ Zimat said. She gave a small bow, and they left.
‘I fear I will have no peace tonight,’ Nur ad-Din said with a sigh when they had gone. ‘I have made Asimat unhappy.’ He cocked his head as a thought came to him. ‘She seems to like you well enough, Yusuf. Perhaps you can amuse her. You will visit her, tomorrow.’
Yusuf’s eyes went wide. ‘Are you sure, my lord?’
Nur ad-Din smiled. ‘You are an honourable man. I am sure I can trust you. But remember this,’ he added, and his smile faded. ‘I am no Frankish wine merchant. If you touch my wife, I will have your head.’
John shivered in the chill night air as he stepped out into the courtyard, leaving the mamluks behind him in the gatehouse. The men were laughing and joking as they played at dice, but John had no stomach for their good spirits. He walked to the fountain at the centre of the courtyard and stood staring at the main door into the villa, light peaking out around its edges. Zimat was there, just beyond that door. How long had it been since he last saw her? Three years? And now she was married with children. John doubted if she would even remember him. He sighed and looked up at the bright stars above.
The door to the house opened, spilling bright light into the courtyard. A mamluk stepped out, followed by a veiled woman. John’s heart quickened. He examined her closely, and their eyes met as she passed around the far side of the fountain. The woman looked quickly away. She was not Zimat. John watched as she stepped into a litter. As the gate swung open, four burly mamluks emerged from the gatehouse and carried the litter away. The gate was just swinging closed when John heard a creaking sound behind him. He turned to see a veiled woman standing in a shadowy doorway that opened into the courtyard from the side.
‘Zimat?’ John breathed.
‘John,’ the woman whispered. ‘Come quickly.’
John stepped through the door, and the woman closed it behind him. She took his hand and led him down a dimly lit hallway and into a bedroom on the right. She shut the door and removed her veil as she turned to face him. It was Zimat. Her face was thinner and her features sharper than when John had last seen her, but she had the same enchanting, dark eyes. John opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His mouth felt dry and his heart pounded. He had played this moment out a million times in his mind, but now that it had come, he felt awkward and confused.
Zimat stepped close. ‘I thought you would be happy to see me, John. Surely you have not forgotten me.’
‘Of course not.’ He embraced her, and she pressed her head against his chest. Her hair had been oiled and smelled of jasmine, as he remembered. After a moment she began to sob quietly, her shoulders shaking. ‘What is wrong?’ John asked. ‘What has happened?’
‘Do you still love me?’ Zimat asked.
‘You know I do,’ John whispered and kissed her. Her lips were soft, and her mouth, when she opened it to him, tasted of honey. But after a moment she pulled away to once more bury her face in his chest.
‘I never stopped loving you,’ she murmured, ‘even when I was in the arms of my husband.’
‘Your husband-’ John’s brow furrowed, and he gently pushed Zimat away. ‘I should go. Khaldun will be missing you.’
‘No, he is more interested in his new wife, Nadhira. He has not visited my bed in weeks.’
‘Why? Surely he is pleased with you.’
Zimat lowered her head. ‘I have borne him two daughters, but no sons. It is not my fault. None of Khaldun’s concubines has produced a male child.’
‘I see. So now you come to me for comfort,’ John said, his voice hardening. ‘And I was fool enough to believe you loved me.’ He stepped past her and put his hand on the door. ‘I will not be your toy, Zimat. And I will not put both our lives at risk just so you may spite your husband.’
Zimat grabbed his arm. ‘Wait! There is more that I must tell you.’ John lowered his hand. ‘Khaldun’s new wife is not faithful to him. She sleeps with another, hoping he will give her a son.’
‘Why tell me this, not your husband?’
‘Because he would not believe me, and because Yusuf will want to know. The man that Nadhira lays with is Turan.’
John’s eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’
Zimat nodded. ‘I have seen them together.’
‘You were right to tell me,’ John said.
‘You will tell Yusuf?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you.’ Zimat stepped closer to John and placed a hand on his chest. She looked up at him with her
