dark eyes. ‘I have missed you, John. May I see you again?’
John hesitated. He knew he should say ‘no’, but as he looked into her eyes, he felt his resistance crumble. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘but how?’
‘Come to my chambers at night.’
‘I cannot. It will cost both of us our lives if I am seen.’
Zimat flashed a brilliant smile. ‘You won’t be. I will tell you how.’
The next morning Yusuf presented himself at the door to the harem, which occupied its own wing of the palace. He was met by the tawashi – the chief eunuch in the service of Nur ad-Din’s wives. ‘You are expected,’ he said, and led Yusuf to Asimat’s chambers. At the door, he paused and turned to Yusuf. ‘I will be watching,’ he said. Then he knocked and pushed the door open. Sunlight from a row of broad windows on the far wall spilled into the room, illuminating the saffron-yellow carpet, a canopied bed in the corner and a large loom at which two servant girls sat, passing a pair of shuttles back and forth as they wove red and gold threads into a weft of tautly stretched, white wool fibres. The only other furniture was a washbasin. Asimat sat in one of the windows, reading. She looked up from her book and frowned.
‘Forgive me for disturbing you, my lady,’ the tawashi said with a bow. ‘May I present Yusuf ibn Ayub. He has come at the request of lord Nur ad-Din.’ The eunuch bowed again and backed out, closing the door behind him.
The girls at the loom kept working, ignoring Yusuf. Asimat stared at him fixedly. The soft morning light illuminated her from behind, outlining her form underneath a thin caftan of green silk. Yusuf shifted awkwardly and looked away, then looked back. ‘Well?’ Asimat demanded.
‘Nur ad-Din-’
‘My husband has sent you to cheer me,’ Asimat said, cutting him off. ‘I do not need cheering. You may go.’ She returned to her book. Yusuf did not move, and after a moment, Asimat looked up. ‘Why are you still here?’
‘I am sorry, Khatun, but you are misinformed. You husband did indeed send me to cheer you, but that is not why I am here. I have come because I wish to speak with you.’
Asimat’s eyebrows rose. ‘That is unfortunate, because I do not wish to speak with you.’
Yusuf felt himself flush, but he held his ground. ‘In that case, my lady, I will do the talking.’
Asimat sighed in exasperation. ‘Since it seems I cannot get rid of you, what did you wish to discuss?’
‘Damascus. You visited the city when Nur ad-Din took it.’
Asimat stared at him for a moment. ‘Very well,’ she said, rising from her seat in the window. ‘Come, we will speak in the gardens. Kaniz, bring me my veil.’ One of the servants left the room and came back with a white silk veil, which Asimat pulled over her face. She opened the door to find the tawashi waiting just outside. ‘I wish to visit the gardens,’ she told him.
‘Of course, Khatun,’ the eunuch said. He clapped loudly, and a moment later a dozen eunuch guards marched into the hallway. They surrounded Yusuf and Asimat as they left the palace, heading across the broad open space within the citadel towards the gardens on the far side. Asimat walked ahead of Yusuf and did not speak. She did not turn to look as they passed the mamluks training in the middle of the field. Finally they came to the gardens. Asimat took a gravel path that passed through an orange grove and into a large rose garden containing dozens of varieties in shades of red, white, yellow, pink and orange. The eunuch guards waited outside the garden.
Asimat stopped before a rose bush covered in loose, pink blossoms. She picked a flower and smelled it. ‘A damask rose. They were first cultivated in Damascus. They always remind me of my childhood.’
‘I, too, spent much of my childhood in Damascus,’ Yusuf said. ‘My family lived in Baalbek, but we had a home in the city, not far from the great mosque.’
‘I know it well,’ Asimat said. ‘I was rarely allowed outside the palace. Most of what I know of the city, I saw from the windows of my room. It faced the mosque. I used to watch the people in the market square behind the mosque and wonder what it would be like to be one of them.’
‘Surely you do not regret your place in life. You are married to the greatest ruler in all of the East, perhaps in the world.’
Asimat sighed and dropped the rose. ‘No, I do not regret my place,’ she said as she resumed walking. ‘But I remember once visiting the orchards of Damascus to pick mangos. I must have been five or six. As I was carried to the orchards in a litter, I saw two children my age playing in one of the gardens beside the road. They seemed so happy.’
‘I too visited those orchards,’ Yusuf said. ‘They are beautiful, a paradise. But the people there are not so happy. They lead a hard life.’
Asimat nodded. ‘I miss Damascus. Seeing it again after all these years was hard. I had not visited it since my marriage. That was long ago, just before the Christian siege.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Fourteen, barely a woman. Nur ad-Din was more than twice my age. I was terrified of him. I begged my father not to send me away, but it was an important alliance. It could not wait.’ She smiled. ‘I was wrong to be afraid. Nur ad-Din is a kind man.’
‘And yet he says you are unhappy.’
‘I have not given him a son,’ Asimat explained. ‘You heard Nur ad-Din last night. That is my one duty as a wife, and I have failed.’
‘You are young still.’
Asimat shook her head. ‘After eight years, what hope do I have? I have donated to the mosques and prayed to Allah, but my prayers have not been answered. I fear they never will be.’ They walked on in silence, their feet crunching on the gravel, until they reached the end of the path. ‘What of you?’ Asimat asked. ‘Do you have a wife?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You should.’ Asimat turned and began to retrace their path through the garden. ‘A man needs sons to carry on his legacy.’
‘I have no legacy, not yet.’
‘But you are Emir of Tell Bashir and a trusted councillor of Nur ad-Din.’
Yusuf shook his head. ‘I have accomplished nothing. My father and uncle started with no lands and no name. Shirkuh has become atabek of Nur ad-Din’s armies, and my father is wali of Damascus. I shall surpass them both.’
‘I do not doubt it. Nur ad-Din is right to expect great things from you. I see much of him in you.’
Yusuf met her eyes. ‘Do you?’
‘You have the same confidence, the same thirst for greatness. And you will have your chance in the years to come. We will go to war with the Franks. If you survive, you will rise to great heights.’
Yusuf grinned. ‘I do not plan on dying.’
‘I thought not,’ Asimat said, smiling back. They had reached the end of the path leading from the rose garden, and the eunuch guards stood nearby. Asimat stopped and turned to face Yusuf. ‘I must apologize for my rudeness earlier. I have enjoyed our talk, Yusuf. We shall speak again soon, I hope?’
‘If Nur ad-Din wills it, my lady.’
‘Until then.’ Asimat gestured to the guards, and they surrounded her as she headed towards the palace.
Yusuf picked a rose bloom and absent-mindedly plucked its petals as he watched her walk away. She was halfway back to the palace when she glanced back over her shoulder towards him. Yusuf smiled. He held the rose to his nose and inhaled. ‘Asimat,’ he whispered.
Yusuf was still smiling when he returned to his chamber. He found Faridah waiting for him. She stood at the window, looking out towards the grounds of the citadel. She was wearing a thin cotton robe, through which Yusuf could see the curve of her back and buttocks. ‘I saw the two of you from here,’ she said, her back still to him.
Yusuf crossed the room and placed his hands around her waist. He kissed her neck. ‘Surely you are not jealous of Asimat.’
‘Of course not.’ Faridah pulled away and went to sit on the bed. ‘I owe you my life, and I ask for nothing more. I know that there will be other women.’ She met Yusuf’s eyes. ‘But Asimat is the wife of your lord.’
