The Price of Glory by Caroline Warfield

Author:Caroline Warfield [Warfield, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-07-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Word came to Ana in the morning. The wife of the governor and her ladies would submit to the procedure of the hakimas that afternoon in the quarters of the chief wife. Donoma had endured her experience with little problem, not even a slight fever. It was, in fact, she who brought the command, and Ana initially assumed her good health to underlie the decision to move forward.

Gamila returned from the market with other news, however. Her departure under the nose of what appeared to be distracted guards had been a surprise to them all—a welcome one.

“His man said they were forced to witness the procedure?”

“Yes, Ana. Yosef said Mr. Mallet himself also said those words to him.”

“Is that all?”

“Only ‘have a care,’” Gamila replied.

“As if we don’t know that,” Ana huffed. A small part of her felt safer, as if knowing someone outside the palace watched what happened here, as if that might make a difference in a crisis. She shook the ridiculous thought away. “And them off on a quest through the desert.”

Gamila bit her lip and didn’t reply.

“What did you learn in the city?” Ana asked. “Will the women welcome our program, or is it too early to hope for that?”

Gamila shook her head. “Women here have less freedom than Cairo, but you were correct that they gather most freely at the well. They met me with suspicion, but no small amount of curiosity. One launched a poisonous tirade about the desire of evil westerners to harm them all, but she seemed alone in that. I laid some groundwork; we can win them over.”

Head tipped back, Ana breathed deeply. “We must tread carefully. Resentment and fear run deep.” She peered directly at Gamila. “First things first. We must vaccinate Layla and her sister wives.”

Supplies and materials—bandages, scalpels, sterile water, and the vaccine provided by Jean Navarre—loaded down all three women as Maryam, Gamila, and Ana walked toward the other end of the women’s quarters. Yosef followed, eyes wary and watchful. They were directed to a sunny room, large and obviously intended for group activities.

The sight of men sitting at ease at one end, brought Ana to a stop. “Veils, ladies,” she murmured, covering her face. She walked toward the men and Layla-hanim, who sat nearby and slightly lower than the most prominent among them, one Ana had no problem identifying as Abu Hanifa, the governor-general. Her proper obeisance elicited an approving glance from the governor. It also provided her with an opportunity to scan the group.

That Bashkim sat next to the governor did not surprise her; his open leer—something he never would have dared in her father’s house—made her heartbeat hammer in her throat. She breathed in and willed the reaction to stop.

A boy she judged to be about nineteen sat at the governor’s other side. When Layla followed her eyes and raised her proud head, Ana guessed him to be her son and the governor’s heir. He shared his father’s looks and his mother’s proud bearing.

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