Akil says that Asad kept slaves there too.’ Yasmina pulled her cushion closer to Celia’s and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Concubines, from the East. They say they knew things which would make a man faint with delight.’
‘What sort of things?’ Celia asked, as much fascinated as shocked.
Yasmina pouted. ‘I don’t know. I asked Akil, but he wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think he knew either, though he wouldn’t admit it. You know how men are—they like to think they know everything. Anyway, when Asad died Ramiz sent all the women home with dowries, and the wives went back to their families. We all assumed it was because Ramiz was going to take a wife, but he shows no sign of doing so. You should be honoured. You are the first woman to be permitted to enter Ramiz’s harem. You will be the envy of every woman in the region.’
‘But it’s not like that. There is no question of me becoming…’
‘His wife? Goodness, no,’ Yasmina said with a shocked gasp. ‘Of course not. A woman like you would not be permitted to marry Ramiz.’ She placed the large tray with the glasses and samovar out of reach and beckoned to her two youngest children, a boy of three and a girl of two. ‘This is my son, Samir, and my daughter, Farida.’
The little girl clung shyly to her mother’s arm, but Samir was bolder, and reached out to touch Celia’s hair. Smiling, she took him onto her lap and allowed him to play with her pearls, at which point Farida overcame her fear of the strange woman in the funny dress and demanded a turn. Laughing, Celia balanced the two children on her lap and taught them to play a clapping game which she’d used to play with her sisters, after which Samir insisted she accompany them on a grand tour of the courtyard to meet the other children. Rejoining Yasmina half an hour later, Celia was rather tousled, and extremely grateful for the cool drink of sherbet which her hostess handed her.
‘You are very good with children,’ Yasmina said, taking a sip of her own drink. ‘I hope you have the opportunity to have some of your own one day.’
‘That’s unlikely now. I doubt I will marry again.’ Celia bit her lip. ‘Yasmina, when you said a woman like me could never marry Ramiz, did you mean because I am from the West?’
‘Well, that is certainly an issue—it is expected he will marry a princess of Arabic blood—but it is not the main problem. It is because you were married.’
‘But my husband is dead.’
Yasmina looked at her in surprise. ‘That is not the point. You are not a virgin. Ramiz is a prince of royal blood. His first wife must be his and only his. His seed must be the only seed planted in her garden.’ Celia blushed, but Yasmina continued, seemingly oblivious of having said anything untoward. ‘His second wife now, or his third, if she were widowed it would not matter so much, but a first wife like me is the most important,’ she said proudly. ‘It is she who bears the heir. Not that I expect Akil to take another wife. Unless he tires of me—but that would be unlikely, for I am most skilled.’
Celia was fascinated and appalled. ‘You mean there are—there are things that women can do to…?’
‘Keep her man?’ Yasmina nodded, smiling coyly. ‘Naturally. One of the advantages of sharing a harem with other women is the sharing of such secrets. Wait here.’
Left alone, Celia cooled her wrists and temples in the fountain. What had possessed her to ask such a thing? To have such an intimate conversation with a woman who was a complete stranger? It was this place—the heat, the exotic strangeness of it all. The way the walls of the harem seemed to tempt curiosity about such sensuous matters out into the open. It was because she wanted to know. Not to experience, just to know. And if she didn’t find out here, then she never would.
Yasmina returned with a small parcel wrapped in silk. ‘Take these. They are charm pamphlets. You won’t be able to read
‘What sort of things?’ Celia asked, as much fascinated as shocked.
Yasmina pouted. ‘I don’t know. I asked Akil, but he wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think he knew either, though he wouldn’t admit it. You know how men are—they like to think they know everything. Anyway, when Asad died Ramiz sent all the women home with dowries, and the wives went back to their families. We all assumed it was because Ramiz was going to take a wife, but he shows no sign of doing so. You should be honoured. You are the first woman to be permitted to enter Ramiz’s harem. You will be the envy of every woman in the region.’
‘But it’s not like that. There is no question of me becoming…’
‘His wife? Goodness, no,’ Yasmina said with a shocked gasp. ‘Of course not. A woman like you would not be permitted to marry Ramiz.’ She placed the large tray with the glasses and samovar out of reach and beckoned to her two youngest children, a boy of three and a girl of two. ‘This is my son, Samir, and my daughter, Farida.’
The little girl clung shyly to her mother’s arm, but Samir was bolder, and reached out to touch Celia’s hair. Smiling, she took him onto her lap and allowed him to play with her pearls, at which point Farida overcame her fear of the strange woman in the funny dress and demanded a turn. Laughing, Celia balanced the two children on her lap and taught them to play a clapping game which she’d used to play with her sisters, after which Samir insisted she accompany them on a grand tour of the courtyard to meet the other children. Rejoining Yasmina half an hour later, Celia was rather tousled, and extremely grateful for the cool drink of sherbet which her hostess handed her.
‘You are very good with children,’ Yasmina said, taking a sip of her own drink. ‘I hope you have the opportunity to have some of your own one day.’
‘That’s unlikely now. I doubt I will marry again.’ Celia bit her lip. ‘Yasmina, when you said a woman like me could never marry Ramiz, did you mean because I am from the West?’
‘Well, that is certainly an issue—it is expected he will marry a princess of Arabic blood—but it is not the main problem. It is because you were married.’
‘But my husband is dead.’
Yasmina looked at her in surprise. ‘That is not the point. You are not a virgin. Ramiz is a prince of royal blood. His first wife must be his and only his. His seed must be the only seed planted in her garden.’ Celia blushed, but Yasmina continued, seemingly oblivious of having said anything untoward. ‘His second wife now, or his third, if she were widowed it would not matter so much, but a first wife like me is the most important,’ she said proudly. ‘It is she who bears the heir. Not that I expect Akil to take another wife. Unless he tires of me—but that would be unlikely, for I am most skilled.’
Celia was fascinated and appalled. ‘You mean there are—there are things that women can do to…?’
‘Keep her man?’ Yasmina nodded, smiling coyly. ‘Naturally. One of the advantages of sharing a harem with other women is the sharing of such secrets. Wait here.’
Left alone, Celia cooled her wrists and temples in the fountain. What had possessed her to ask such a thing? To have such an intimate conversation with a woman who was a complete stranger? It was this place—the heat, the exotic strangeness of it all. The way the walls of the harem seemed to tempt curiosity about such sensuous matters out into the open. It was because she wanted to know. Not to experience, just to know. And if she didn’t find out here, then she never would.
Yasmina returned with a small parcel wrapped in silk. ‘Take these. They are charm pamphlets. You won’t be able to read
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