Yusuf came over and sat beside her. ‘I am not a fool,’ he said.
Faridah touched his shoulder. ‘And I am not blind. I have seen Asimat. She is beautiful, and she is young.’
Yusuf reached beneath Faridah’s robe and ran his hand up her side to caress he breast. ‘You are hardly old.’
‘But I cannot bear children, and soon you will want a son.’ She looked away. ‘You will want someone younger.’
Yusuf touched her cheek and turned her face towards him. There were tears in her eyes. He brushed them away and kissed her. ‘You will always have a place in my household, Faridah.’
‘And in your heart?’ Faridah whispered. Yusuf nodded. ‘Then that is all I ask.’ She kissed him, sliding her arms around his back and pulling him down on top of her. He pulled her robe aside and began to kiss her breast.
There was a loud knock at the door, and Yusuf pulled away. Faridah sat up, pulling her robe back around her. ‘What is it?’ Yusuf demanded.
The door opened, and John entered. ‘Excuse me, Yusuf. I must speak with you.’ He glanced at Faridah. ‘In private.’
‘I have no secrets from Faridah,’ Yusuf replied, rising. ‘What is it?’
‘Your brother, Turan. He has committed adultery with Khaldun’s new wife, Nadhira.’
‘Zimat’s husband,’ Yusuf whispered, his jaw tight. He went to the window and gripped the sill as he looked out. Turan again. Always Turan. The fool would be the ruin of their family. Yusuf wondered if he truly loved Nadhira or if he were using her to get revenge against Khaldun for winning Baalbek. It hardly mattered. Yusuf turned back to John. ‘How do you know this?’
John refused to meet his gaze. ‘I cannot say.’
‘Cannot say? I am your lord!’ Yusuf snapped. ‘You will tell me.’
‘I am a free man,’ John replied quietly. ‘I will not tell you.’
Yusuf’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was it Zimat?’ John said nothing, and Yusuf crossed the room to him. ‘I will say this only once: Zimat is my sister. If you stain her honour, I will kill you myself.’
‘I understand.’
Yusuf nodded, then turned away to pace the room. ‘Send for Turan,’ he told John. ‘I will know the truth of this from him.’
‘He is not in the citadel. I saw him leave for town earlier today.’
Yusuf stopped pacing. ‘Do you think he went to-?’ John nodded. ‘Saddle my horse. I will go to Khaldun’s home.’
‘I will meet you at the stables,’ John said and left.
Faridah rose and went to Yusuf, putting her arms around him from behind. ‘What will you do?’ she asked.
Yusuf picked up his sword belt and pulled it tight around his waist. ‘I do not know.’
‘Open up!’ Yusuf shouted as he pounded on the gate of Khaldun’s villa. John stood behind him, holding the reins of their horses. ‘I am Yusuf ibn Ayub, come to see Khaldun. Open this gate!’
The gate creaked open a few feet to reveal two eunuch guards. ‘Our lord is not here,’ one of them said in a high voice. ‘He left for Baalbek this morning.’
‘Then I will see my sister, Zimat.’ Yusuf tried to push past the guards, but they grabbed his arms, stopping him.
‘You cannot enter,’ the first guard said. ‘Khaldun has told us to admit no guests while he is absent.’
‘Not even my brother, Turan,’ Yusuf growled. The two guards exchanged a nervous glance. ‘Shall I tell Khaldun what you have allowed to take place in his absence?’
The second guard paled. ‘I will take you to your sister. Come.’
Yusuf turned to John. ‘Make sure no one leaves or goes to warn Turan.’ John nodded, and Yusuf followed the eunuch guard inside. They crossed the villa courtyard and entered the carpeted room where Yusuf had feasted the night before. They passed through into a corridor on the right, then turned sharply right again into a long hallway with rooms opening off to either side. The guard knocked at one of the doors.
‘Enter,’ Zimat called from inside, and the guard pushed the door open. Zimat, dressed in a simple white caftan, stood at the centre of the room. ‘Brother!’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank Allah you have come.’ She went to Yusuf and embraced him.
Yusuf gently pushed her away. ‘Is it true?’ Zimat nodded. ‘Why did you tell John and not me?’
‘I wanted to tell you, but I did not know how. Khaldun was there, and he would never believe me.’ Her face twisted into a scowl. ‘That slut Nadhira has blinded him.’
‘You should not have spoken to John,’ Yusuf told her. ‘He is a man and a Frank. You could be whipped for seeing him alone.’
Zimat lowered her head. ‘I did not know what else to do. Someone had to know.’
‘Very well. But you are never to see John again. You must promise me.’
Zimat looked away. ‘I promise.’
‘Now tell me, do you have proof of what you say about Turan?’
‘You will see for yourself.’ Zimat led him down the hallway to another door. ‘This is Nadhira’s room,’ she whispered.
Yusuf tried the handle. The door was locked. He reared back and kicked the door, splintering the wood around the lock. The door swung open to reveal a room dominated by a large bed. Nadhira was on the bed, her legs wrapped around Turan, who lay naked on top of her.
‘I said we were not to be disturbed!’ Turan roared as he turned towards the door. His eyes widened when he saw Yusuf. ‘Brother!’ he gasped.
‘What have you done?’ Yusuf roared, drawing his sword. Turan scrambled from the bed and backed into the far corner, his hands over his crotch. Nadhira screamed and pulled a silk sheet over herself. ‘You have dishonoured our family,’ Yusuf growled.
‘The whore seduced me!’ Turan protested.
‘He lies,’ Nadhira sobbed. ‘He forced himself upon me. He made me.’
Yusuf looked from one to the other. His lips curled back in a snarl as he felt rage build within him. He stepped around the bed towards Turan, who cowered in the corner. Yusuf raised his sword, but then stopped. Shirkuh had told him that he must not allow his passions to rule him. Yusuf closed his eyes and forced himself to breath deeply. When he opened his eyes, his features had calmed, his mouth setting in a hard line. He picked up Turan’s caftan and tossed it to him. ‘Get dressed.’
‘What will you do to me, Brother?’ Turan asked as he pulled on his caftan.
‘Nothing.’ Yusuf turned away.
Zimat grabbed his arm. ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded. ‘He has shamed the family! Father would have him beaten!’
Yusuf pulled away from her. ‘I am not Father.’
‘Then I will not be punished?’ Turan asked.
Yusuf looked back to him. ‘You will come with me to witness Nadhira’s fate. That will be your punishment.’
Nadhira left the bed and approached Yusuf. ‘And what will happen to me?’ she asked, her hands trembling and her eyes wide with fright.
‘I do not know,’ Yusuf replied. ‘That is for your husband to decide.’
Yusuf stood with Turan and John in the central market square of Aleppo on a warm spring morning, the air heavy with the scent of oranges from the trees that ringed the square. The space was crowded as usual, but today the people had not come for the market. Veiled women stood whispering at the edge of the crowd, their children playing around them. At the centre of the square, grim-faced men stood silently in groups of threes and fours, their eyes on the street that led from Khaldun’s home. In their hands, the men held fist-sized rocks.
A murmur of anticipation ran through the crowd as they caught sight of Khaldun approaching on foot, his hand clamped around Nadhira’s arm as he pulled her along beside him. He had returned yesterday after a week in Baalbek, and Yusuf had gone immediately to tell him of Nadhira and Turan. Khaldun had not questioned Yusuf’s
