The Lioness of Morocco(10)

“How have you come to know all this?” Sibylla asked.

Nadira replied that, before she was emancipated in order to serve Christians, she had been a slave in the household of a court official in Marrakesh.

The guards opened a double door and the slave guided them to a large room. She indicated to the guests that they were to wait and disappeared. Sibylla looked around with curiosity. The room seemed no different from the many others they’d passed through. Large windows opened to an interior courtyard. The shutters were open, allowing the fine muslin drapes to flow in the breeze. Somewhere outside, a lonesome peacock cried, but otherwise it was still. Trays covered with rose petals and fragrant herbs sat on low, exquisitely carved tables. A door opened and a group of women entered. Aside from the female slaves, the only local women Sibylla had seen had been completely veiled and scurrying through the narrow passages of the medina. But here in their living quarters, the women did not conceal their faces. They returned Sibylla’s curious smile and looked at her with expressive kohl-rimmed eyes.

They were led by a diminutive old lady leaning on a cane of carved ivory. Though she appeared fragile, her lined face revealed kindness and intelligence. She wore a loose garment of silver-gray silk ending halfway down her calf. Below that Sibylla was able to make out pants of the same fine material and pearl-embroidered slippers. Her arms, neck, and ears were adorned with striking gold jewelry. The other women were far younger. They too were wearing kaftans with pants in all colors of the rainbow, as well as opulent jewelry. Some had covered their shiny, dark hair with translucent scarves, but most wore it loose down to their hips. A dozen chattering children ran about, the smallest among them carried by their nursemaids.

The elderly woman stepped forward to greet Sibylla. Nadira translated for her. “El Sayyida Rusa Umm Hash-Hash, My Lady Rusa, mother of His Excellency Qaid Hash-Hash, welcomes the honorable lady from the land of the Engliz.”

Sibylla bowed respectfully and gave her name. Next, the qaid’s chief wife greeted her.

“Princess Lalla Jasira is a member of the sultan’s family, may God grant him a long life,” Nadira said.

After the first wife, who was most likely Sibylla’s age, there were three other wives, all very young and pretty. The fourth and youngest was in the late stages of pregnancy and had her hands proudly folded on her round belly. The concubines were also introduced to Sibylla.

“They come from Abyssinia, where the women are renowned for their beauty, and are Christian slaves,” Nadira explained.

With their soft brown eyes and delicate limbs, the concubines reminded Sibylla of gazelles.

The greetings concluded, Rusa gave a short speech, while smiling at Sibylla encouragingly.

“El Sayyida and the other ladies have heard that their esteemed guest from the land of the Engliz has hair that resembles the fur of a desert lioness. They respectfully ask their guest to remove her hat so they may see for themselves.” Nadira gave Sibylla an awkward look.

Sibylla was amazed that news of her hair color had reached even here inside the harem.

It was a harmless enough request and it would be impolite to turn it down, she thought as she untied the bow under her chin. Cries rang out from all corners. Some of the women giggled, others covered their mouths with their hands, the children squealed with excitement.

“They are saying that they have never before seen golden hair,” Nadira translated over the din. “They believe that you must be an angel of heaven.”

Sibylla shook her head resolutely. “Tell them that, in my country, many people have hair like mine.”

The incredulous murmurs grew loud. Rusa at last managed to call everyone to order.

“The honorable Sayyida Rusa asks you to undo your hair,” Nadira relayed.

“Very well.” Sibylla pulled the pins out of her hair so that it fell over her shoulders. The women whispered reverently. One asked if the curls were made of spun gold. Another wanted to know if her hair had magic powers over men.

Sibylla laughed. “Tell them that men in northern countries have hair like this as well and that no one has more power than God has given him.” Then she waved for the woman who had asked the question to come closer and touch her hair. The woman approached almost timidly and then proclaimed proudly in Arabic as Nadira translated, “This is human hair, only its color resembles gold.”

“Or the fur of a lioness,” another added.

Little by little, the women calmed down and Sibylla was able to distribute her gifts.

Next, they partook of some refreshments in the garden. To Sibylla, it seemed like paradise, with its floral fragrance, fountains, and birdsong. They all settled on brocaded cushions around a rectangular pool in which ornamental fish swam. Rusa, Lalla Jasira, and the others urged her to try delectable peaches and pieces of melons, raisins, and candied blossoms. One servant held a parasol over Sibylla while another fanned her.

But the party erupted again when they learned that Sibylla was already twenty-four and had not had a baby yet. This was shocking, indeed! Nadira translated rapidly as the conversation surged.

“You ought to make a pilgrimage to the grave of Sidi Magdoul on the outskirts of the city,” Wahida, Hash-Hash’s favorite concubine, advised. “He will help you to have many children, just as he helped the Prophet Ibrahim and his wife, Sara, to become parents many times over even at an advanced age.”

Sibylla laughingly assured Wahida that she did not require Sidi Magdoul’s assistance as she shifted her dress to allow the women a glimpse at her round belly. They rejoiced and showered her with advice for an easy pregnancy and a successful birth. The fourth wife wanted to send her midwife to Sibylla, while the third gave her an amulet, a small silver hand with an engraved eye. “If you wear this over your heart, Fatima’s hand will protect your unborn from the evil eye.”

As the eldest and the qaid’s mother, Rusa was the senior member of the harem and respected as such. Lalla Jasira was second and did justice to her name, which meant “the gentle one.” After her followed the second, third, and fourth wives—and only then the concubines. Wahida was granted a special position and the title Umm Walad, the mother of her children, for already having borne her master two sons.

Rusa had wrapped the shawl Sibylla had given her around her shoulders. She was not seated on the cushions, but on an easy chair to the left of their guest. Lalla Jasira was perched on a thick, round cushion on Sibylla’s right. Nadira stood behind her, ready to translate. Rusa clapped her hands and a slave appeared with a bowl of baked goods, which Rusa broke into small pieces and threw to the fish. Sibylla was impressed by her graceful movements and her soft, manicured hands.

“The qaid’s women are just like these fish,” Rusa told her. “They live together in a beautiful home, lovingly cared for by a benevolent master. They want for nothing.”

“That is true, no doubt,” Sibylla countered. “But does this basin not obscure the fish’s view of the open ocean?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Sibylla wanted to kick herself for offending her delightful hostesses. She wondered if she would ever learn to hold her tongue.

Yet Rusa merely smiled and Lalla Jasira replied, “One need not summit the mountain to look into the distance. If we desire, the world comes to us here in the palace. For example, thanks to you we are learning how women live in faraway England.”

Her dark eyes scanned Sibylla’s light hair, her European-style dress, and came to rest on her thin silk stockings and the flat satin slippers.

“Those babouches you’re wearing,” said Lalla Jasira, “are really very pretty. Do all the ladies in your country wear them?”

Nadira translated and Sibylla nodded with a smile. “With your permission, I will present some to you. Tonight I will write a letter requesting a shipment for you and the other ladies.”

Rusa and Lalla Jasira exchanged meaningful glances and asked to take a closer look at the shoes. They examined the workmanship and spoke to one another for several minutes. Then Rusa returned to her easy chair and addressed Sibylla.

“El Sayyida Rusa and Princess Lalla Jasira would like to make a business proposition to the honorable English lady Mrs. Hopkins,” Nadira translated. “They would like to order five hundred pairs of the English slippers and they are offering to pay thirty gold benduqui.”

“Are these women permitted to engage in trade? Do they even have their own money?” Sibylla could not help her astonishment.

Rusa wanted to know what Sibylla’s question was and once Nadira had translated it, had her reply, “The Prophet, in his infinite wisdom, has granted women the right to manage the wealth that he has put at their disposal. El Sayyida and His Excellency’s four wives have free access to their dowries. In addition, His Excellency pays every one of the ladies in his harem one falus per day.”

The question piqued Lalla Jasira’s interest, prompting her to inquire if the honorable Mrs. Hopkins herself did not have a bride price.

“Oh, I do,” Sibylla mumbled and thought of the trust with her dowry. “But it took some doing for me to have the right to manage it myself.” She turned to the two women. “It would be an honor for me to do business with you. But thirty gold benduqui will make me lose money. One hundred benduqui will just about cover my costs.” She smiled shrewdly. Sibylla did not really know whether that was a fair price, but she had heard that bargaining was considered something of a sport in the Orient.