Outcasts by Martin Lake

Author:Martin Lake [Lake, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2012-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

Veils and swathes of silk and muslin hung from the ceiling, fluttering in the breeze from open windows. To one side of the room was a large bed, heaped up with cushions as plump as Johara, each decorated with bright colours and lavish designs. Lamps smouldered beside it, giving off not light but the heady scent of spices.

Beside the window were a small table and four chairs. The table was overflowing with food. There was a platter of fruit: apricots, figs, plums, dates and grapes. There were soft breads, some plain, some sprinkled with seeds and herbs. A dish in the centre was crammed with grilled meat, one next to it stacked with fish of every shape and size. On the far side of the table were platefuls and platefuls of cakes.

'Is that for us?' Eleanor asked, open-mouthed.

'It is, child,' Johara said.

Eleanor ran to the table and filled her plate to overflowing with a selection of food.

Agnes wished that she was a child and could fill her plate in the same way. Despite her hunger she did not want to look greedy so she selected carefully.

Johara had no such compunction. She filled one plate with meat, fish and bread and a second with fruit and cakes.

'You asked me about the Caliph?' Johara said. 'What do you know of him?'

Agnes shook her head. 'I don't know anything. The first I had even heard of him was when Habib told me that I had been bought for his harem.'

Johara picked up a piece of chicken and bit on it.

'Do you know about any of the great men of Islam?' she asked.

'Only Sultan Saladin.'

Johara smiled. 'That upstart.' She wiped her mouth with a silk handkerchief. 'Saladin is a Kurdish mercenary, a nobody who just happens to be a very good warrior. He has a brother, al-Adil, who is more of a concern to the wise men of Baghdad.' She plucked the bone from a small fish and swallowed the flesh whole.

'The Caliph is different all together.' She sighed. 'Caliph al-Nasir is the descendent of the Prophet's uncle. He is the head of the whole Islamic world. All emirs and sultans are subservient to him.'

Agnes said nothing but wondered why, if this was the case, she had never heard of him.

'What manner of man is he?' she asked.

Johara sighed. 'He is a wise man, a kind man. He is young, only thirty years of age, but he has the wisdom of an older man.'

She turned towards Agnes and gave a wistful smile. 'His wisdom can be understood when I tell you that twelve years ago, while still a very young man, he decided to give his heart to an older woman who would help him learn the mysteries of life and of love.' She fell silent.

Agnes glanced at her. She could not prevent a smile from growing upon her face, a smile of amusement and of sympathy.

'The older woman was you?' she asked.

Johara nodded. 'And he regards me still with special favour,' she said quietly.

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