The driver came around the side of the car to open the back passenger door. “We will go in for tea and conversation, but no one here will speak English,” Mikael said, adding bluntly, “and they won’t understand you. Or your short skirt.” He leaned from the car, spoke to the driver and the driver nodded, and disappeared.
“I’m getting you a robe,” Mikael said turning back to her. “It won’t help you to go before Sheikh Azizzi dressed like that. I am sure you know this already, but be quiet, polite. Respectful. You are the outsider here. You need to make a good impression.”
“Sheikh Azizzi is here?”
“Yes.”
“I’m meeting him now?”
“Yes.”
Fresh panic washed through her. “I thought we were going in for tea and conversation!”
“We are. This is the judicial process. It’s not in a court with many observers. It’s more intimate...personal. We sit at a table, have tea, and talk. Sheikh Azizzi will either come to a decision during the discussion, or he will leave and make a decision and then return to tell us what he has chosen to do.”
“And it really all rests with him?”
“Yes.”
“Could you not override his decision? You are the king.”
Mikael studied her impassively. “I could, but I doubt I would.”
“Why?”
“He is a tribal judge, and the highest in my tribe. As Bedouin, we honor our tribal elders, and he is the most respected man from my tribe.”
The driver returned with a dark blue folded cotton garment and handed it to Mikael. Mikael shook out the robe and told her to slip it over her head. “This is more conservative, and should make him feel more comfortable.”
She reached up and touched her hair. “Shouldn’t I have a headscarf too?”
“He knows you’re American, knows your father was Daniel Copeland. No need to pretend to be someone you’re not.”
“But I also have no wish to further offend him.”
“Then perhaps braid your hair and tie it with an elastic. But your hair is not going to protect you from judgment. Nothing will. This is fate. Karma.”
Jemma swiftly braided her hair and then stepped from the car, following Mikael. Fate. Karma. The words rang through her head as she walked behind the sheikh toward the house.
Robed men and women lined the small dirt road, bowing deeply. Mikael paused to greet them, speaking briefly and then waving to some children who peeked from windows upstairs before leading her to the arched door of the house. The door opened and they were ushered inside.
Candles and sconces on the wall illuminated the interior. The whitewashed walls were simple and unadorned. Dark beams covered the ceiling in the entry, but the beams had been painted cream and pale gold in the living room.
As Mikael and Jemma were taken to a low table in the living room, Jemma spotted more children peeking from behind a curtain before being drawn away.
“Sit here,” Mikael instructed, pointing to a pillow on the floor in front of the low square table. “To my right. Sheikh Azizzi will sit across from me, and speak to me, but this way he can see you easily.”
Jemma sank onto the pillow, curling her legs under her. “He’s not going to ask me anything?”
“No. Over tea I will give him the facts. He will consider the facts and then make his decision.”
“Is this how you handle all tribal crimes?”
“If it’s not a violent crime, why should the sentencing be chaotic and violent?”
She smoothed the soft thin cotton fabric over her knees. “But your country has a long history of aggression. Tribal warring, kidnapped brides, forced marriages.” She quickly glanced at him. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I ask the question sincerely. How does one balance your ideal of civility in sentencing, with what we Westerners would view as barbaric tribal customs?”
“You mean, kidnapped brides?”
Her eyes widened. “No. I was referring to arranged marriages.”
He said nothing. She stared at him aghast. The seconds ticked by.
Jemma pressed her hands to her stomach, trying to calm the wild butterflies. “Do you really kidnap your brides?”
“If you are a member of one of the royal families, yes.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s how one protects the tribe, by forging new ties through forced marriage with other tribes.”
“It’s barbaric.”
“It settles a score.”
“You sound so cavalier about a very violent act.”
“The marriage might be forced, but the sex is generally consensual.” His dark gaze held hers. “One takes a bride to settle a debt, but the captive bride becomes a royal wife. The marriage must be satisfying for both.”