prayer.
On hot and lonely nights, each of them has longed for intimacy with this handsome Englishman. He is everything the kelauntar is not—kind and gentle, respectful of women, patient, lean and muscular, and so very very desirable. Every one of them, at the right moment, would risk her life for one scorching touch of his broad hand…
Gently stealing up to the side of her bed, the prince saw that she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever beheld. The princess opened her eyes, and seeing before her a handsome man, she remained speechless.
It is too much for the kelauntar’s fourth wife who suddenly swoons, spins, collapses—her fall broken by a large pillow. The other women rush to her side, fan her, gently slap her face and pinch her cheeks. She awakens with a blush of embarrassment.
Under the cover of this distraction, Anisa again glances at Gordon. This time she does not avert her eyes when they meet his. Connected ever so briefly in this way, Gordon is certain he can read her thoughts. I want to be with you so badly. But be careful. We have only a few more hours to wait.
Anisa finally turns away, then takes the hand of the fainted woman and squeezes lovingly. The kelauntar’s wives have grown close in the past few years. In many anderuns, wives grow spiteful and fiercely competitive, jealously plotting against their rivals as they seek power and favored treatment. But here the wives have banded together to survive the oppression of the despised kelauntar. Anisa, the beautiful one, is the usual victim of the kelauntar’s rage, and the others have come to think of her as their savior, the one who suffers for them. They would do anything for her. And tonight they will have the chance.
The faint echo of the mu’a dhdh in takes everyone by surprise. The entertainment of the English lesson had transported the audience into a timeless world, but now time has intruded. With momentary chaos, the assemblage comically scrambles into position for the evening prayer.
As Ali prostrates himself, he senses a subtle shift in the constellation of bodies surrounding him. Something is different. He raises his head and peeks around the room. Everyone is submissively prostrated in the act of prayer—everyone but Gordon Cranston, the Christian, who can be excused; and Anisa, who kneels alongside the missionary but remains upright with open eyes, unmoving lips and insolent face. Ali is confused. What does this mean?
Ali’s questioning stare magnetically draws a glance from Anisa. As their eyes meet, Anisa seems momentarily disturbed. She turns to Gordon, who does not notice, and back to Ali. Then her face becomes serene and radiant. She places her palms together, fingers pointing heavenward. Slowly she closes her eyes and bows her head in the Christian posture of prayer, the pose that Ali has seen Gordon piously adopt many times.
Ali again prostrates himself, but he is not listening to the mu’a dhdh in . A horrifying thought has come to him. He prays for Allah to forgive his mother because the sin of apostasy, of abandoning Islam for another faith, is punishable by death.
Chapter 10
Jalal’s family sits comfortably on the floor of their anderun after dinner. A servant clears the bowls as ‘Abdu’llah explains to his wife, Nadja, the episode at the caravanserai.
Jalal’s younger brothers and sisters listen, bursting with laughter at their father’s descriptions.
“I don’t know why we’re sending him to the madrisih,” Nadja says dryly. “He already knows more about Islam than the mujtahid.” She chuckles at the thought.
“Don’t tease him, Nadja,” ‘Abdu’llah says. “He’s had a rough day defending the entire Shaykhi movement.”
Nadja laughs and bows. It is all in good humor. “I will obey my husband—my lord and master. Even though he cannot write a coherent verse without my help.”
“Not everyone is cut out to be a poet, my dear.”
“And not everyone is cut out to be a master
On hot and lonely nights, each of them has longed for intimacy with this handsome Englishman. He is everything the kelauntar is not—kind and gentle, respectful of women, patient, lean and muscular, and so very very desirable. Every one of them, at the right moment, would risk her life for one scorching touch of his broad hand…
Gently stealing up to the side of her bed, the prince saw that she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever beheld. The princess opened her eyes, and seeing before her a handsome man, she remained speechless.
It is too much for the kelauntar’s fourth wife who suddenly swoons, spins, collapses—her fall broken by a large pillow. The other women rush to her side, fan her, gently slap her face and pinch her cheeks. She awakens with a blush of embarrassment.
Under the cover of this distraction, Anisa again glances at Gordon. This time she does not avert her eyes when they meet his. Connected ever so briefly in this way, Gordon is certain he can read her thoughts. I want to be with you so badly. But be careful. We have only a few more hours to wait.
Anisa finally turns away, then takes the hand of the fainted woman and squeezes lovingly. The kelauntar’s wives have grown close in the past few years. In many anderuns, wives grow spiteful and fiercely competitive, jealously plotting against their rivals as they seek power and favored treatment. But here the wives have banded together to survive the oppression of the despised kelauntar. Anisa, the beautiful one, is the usual victim of the kelauntar’s rage, and the others have come to think of her as their savior, the one who suffers for them. They would do anything for her. And tonight they will have the chance.
The faint echo of the mu’a dhdh in takes everyone by surprise. The entertainment of the English lesson had transported the audience into a timeless world, but now time has intruded. With momentary chaos, the assemblage comically scrambles into position for the evening prayer.
As Ali prostrates himself, he senses a subtle shift in the constellation of bodies surrounding him. Something is different. He raises his head and peeks around the room. Everyone is submissively prostrated in the act of prayer—everyone but Gordon Cranston, the Christian, who can be excused; and Anisa, who kneels alongside the missionary but remains upright with open eyes, unmoving lips and insolent face. Ali is confused. What does this mean?
Ali’s questioning stare magnetically draws a glance from Anisa. As their eyes meet, Anisa seems momentarily disturbed. She turns to Gordon, who does not notice, and back to Ali. Then her face becomes serene and radiant. She places her palms together, fingers pointing heavenward. Slowly she closes her eyes and bows her head in the Christian posture of prayer, the pose that Ali has seen Gordon piously adopt many times.
Ali again prostrates himself, but he is not listening to the mu’a dhdh in . A horrifying thought has come to him. He prays for Allah to forgive his mother because the sin of apostasy, of abandoning Islam for another faith, is punishable by death.
Chapter 10
Jalal’s family sits comfortably on the floor of their anderun after dinner. A servant clears the bowls as ‘Abdu’llah explains to his wife, Nadja, the episode at the caravanserai.
Jalal’s younger brothers and sisters listen, bursting with laughter at their father’s descriptions.
“I don’t know why we’re sending him to the madrisih,” Nadja says dryly. “He already knows more about Islam than the mujtahid.” She chuckles at the thought.
“Don’t tease him, Nadja,” ‘Abdu’llah says. “He’s had a rough day defending the entire Shaykhi movement.”
Nadja laughs and bows. It is all in good humor. “I will obey my husband—my lord and master. Even though he cannot write a coherent verse without my help.”
“Not everyone is cut out to be a poet, my dear.”
“And not everyone is cut out to be a master
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