Forbearance

by Brianna M. Hoyle

Chapter 8

“Hakim Bousaid and his cousin, Sabriyya.”

I was stunned by the layout of the room. Area rugs overlapping more rugs covered the floor, and no two patterns and colors matched. The walls were lined with figurines and statues, each one depicting a person or angelic looking being. Tall brass pedestals held up many candles that gave the room light. Lanterns glowed orange and hung in their corners. In the center of the room was a low table surrounded by people all dressed extravagantly. They sat on cushions as diverse as the amount of rugs in the room. At the very head of the table was yet another table, this one raised up on a dial. Seated here and facing me directly was a person who could only be the Emir. His headdress was even more exquisite than Jalil’s. He was adorned from head to toe in blue, white, and gold. Jewelry hung from around his neck and his fingers. A large red jewel sat on the very front of his golden turban like a third eye that stared at me from across the room.

I shivered, suddenly feeling inadequate to be in his presence. His head was long and his beard was neatly trimmed to a perfect point that jutted out. His eyes were beady and piercing, but once they were on me, they widened considerably. He looked startled, then his eyes narrowed to suspicion, not at all comforting or welcoming. I felt as though he did not want me here. His angular face further enhanced the hard expression he was sending my way and I wanted to cower away from it. Yet at the same time, I felt something flash inside of me and a memory reared its head to the surface of my mind.

I had stepped into an extravagant room like this one some time before this, perhaps years ago, perhaps weeks. I knew not where this remembrance came from or what it was exactly, I simply knew that I had been treated with condescension in the past upon entering a room this grand. It irked me and, without thinking, I squared my shoulders and tilted my head upwards, not quite looking down my nose at the Emir as I was standing straight and making my presence known. I did nothing to hide my height and how I stood at the same height of the guard who stood at the door. I knew not what this strange sensation of a memory meant, but I had no intentions of being looked down upon unless I knew I deserved it. Up to this point, this man, this Emir had no reason to hate or dislike me. He could keep his suspicions to himself until he was justified to put them forth and I would not hide in a corner in fear of his eyes.

“The Emir Faraj, his family, and friends,” the manservant said, motioning towards the table. Those crowded around the table were staring at me with wide eyes, and one man even looked as though he had seen a ghost walk before him. It was true what Aminah said, that never had anyone seen hair like mine that was so thick and curly, tumbling around my face with a wild life of its own, barely kept at bay by the golden flower pins.

I stepped forward into the room and I felt all of those eyes on me, though I kept my gaze trained on the Emir.

“There must be some mistake.”

I turned to the voice who had spoken, a sharpness in my movement, and saw Nadir standing to his feet, looking at me with that crooked smile and dancing eyes. I prepared to speak in my own defense until I realized that he was not saying it because he believed me to be the wrong person.

“Surely this is not the fierce and swift jaguar who rescued me from the jaws of death,” he said, stepping out from around the table and approaching me. “This is an adorned lioness, royal and beautiful.” He gave me a sideways look and raised an eyebrow, his eyes travelling to the coils of my hair that framed my face. “It is nearly impossible that you managed to confine all of this.” His hands motioned to my hair and I watched him for a moment in silence, processing what he said.

The memory that had caused me to behave the way I did upon seeing how the Emir looked at me at last faded and my face turned red at the Amirzade’s words. I knew I must return the compliment he gave on my appearance and I looked him over in search of a source with which to comment. He was dressed much different from what he had worn when I saw him that morning, now wearing a blue high-collared, long sleeved tunic trimmed in silver. His boots were made of soft black leather and wound tightly around his leg up to his knees where they kept the legs of his grey pants in place. His belt was grey as well and tied around his waist, trailing off behind him. Still he wore no headpiece and I wondered if perhaps that was because of his age. His hair was again braided down his back, with silver bands holding it in place instead of gold. Part of his hair on the left side was free from the braid, tucked behind his ear and framing his face that was adorned with a bright smile. I knew not what to say in terms of a compliment and I settled for gratitude. Bowing low, mostly out of respect but also to hide my blushing face, I greeted him as I recalled his title.

“I thank you for inviting us to dine with you, Amirzade Nadir,” I said. Almost immediately, I felt his hands on my shoulders as he gently lifted me to an upright position.

“It is I who should bow to you, Sabriyya,” he said kindly.

“Nadir!”

The voice was deep and we both turned to face the Emir, who did not look pleased at all. “Have a seat and refrain from placing your hands on a woman who is not your betrothed,” he ordered, to which I suddenly felt great embarrassment at putting the Amirzade in such a position. I backed away from him to be closer to Hakim.

Nadir’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Father, you seem to mistake gratitude towards the one who is my reason for being alive with flirtations.” His voice held bitterness and an amount of displeasure. “Were I dying and she was the only one to tend to my wounds, you would be more upset that she had touched my bare skin than grateful that she saved me.” But he turned away from me and moved back to the table, taking his seat between an older woman and a boy younger than himself.

I stood still for a moment then turned to Hakim, fearing I had done something that may have placed the Amirzade in an situation that provoked the stern reprimand of his father. Should I not have greeted him? Should I have said something to the Emir first? Hakim stepped over to me and rested a comforting hand on my arm in reassurance. I came to depend upon his hand, for it had the ability to calm my nerves. “Worry not, Sabriyya,” he whispered as he led me over to the place provided for us to sit. “The Emir is stingy and does not desire anything to come up that would make the Sultan believe his son is unfit for the Princess. You have done nothing wrong.”

I chose to believe Hakim’s words, mostly because my first impression of the Emir was not in a positive light, and I followed after him, taking my seat at the the very end of the long table, to the right of the Emir. Nadir was on the opposite side of the table, several seats away from me. Hakim sat on my left.

“I welcome Hakim into my home,” the Emir said, motioning towards the man. His tone was not as welcoming as the words he used, and they fell flat.

Hakim inclined his head graciously, despite the obvious lack of care for his presence. “It is an honor to be here, your grace. My cousin and I are in wonder and awe at your exquisite home.”

Those around the table all glanced at Hakim, and with their attention on him, I took this chance to look over those gathered there. Most were men of varying ages; there were only two women at the table, excluding myself. One was the older woman who sat on the Emir’s left, who I wondered if she was perhaps his wife. The youngest person at the table was the boy seated on the other side of Nadir. He only had eyes for the food that lined the center of the table, uncaring of who else joined them for dinner. He looked much like Nadir and I assumed him to be a younger brother. I felt eyes on me and looked. One of the men, seated beside the woman who sat across from me, was still staring at me. I desired him to stop and flashed him an expression of annoyance before concealing it and lowering my head, hoping he understood. My hair may be different, but it did not require such rudeness.

Before I could continue to study the others at the table, the Emir spoke.

“You are her cousin, you say,” he said to Hakim.

Hakim nodded. “Indeed, your grace. We have never met before this, having only ever heard of each other’s existence. When traveling near Idris, she chose to come and meet the cousin she has never seen.”

The Emir raised an eyebrow. “How convenient…” he said, sounding as though he did not entirely believe Hakim’s words. But he did not press the matter. He clapped his hands. “Let us feast.”

Several servants filed into the room with even more plates of food. There were fruits and meats, breads and soups, an assortment of each which I could not all identify. It smelled good and once each platter was set on the table, the people gathered began to partake of the food and talk with one another.

But it was an atmosphere of which I did not feel comfortable. I would have much preferred to hear Jalil’s dramatic stories and Animah’s soothing voice encouraging me to talk. The only thing I took comfort in was Hakim’s presence beside me. Those around me did not address me, speaking amongst themselves about matters that were not lively and jovial, as were the topics of conversation in the home of Jalil. I longed to return there and spend time with Animah. I promised myself that upon my return, I would speak to her more. I would let her know I enjoyed her company. The same would be done for Hakim. He had been more kind to me than I could have expected, and being only with him would have been much more pleasant for me than sitting in the home of the Emir and his family.

Nadir often looked in my direction and smiled at me in a way that left me uncomfortable, though I thought that it was perhaps because I knew his father was not happy that he brought me here. The older woman glanced at me only a few times, then looked down at her food. As the men talked around her, I notice that she spoke not a word. The only other woman at the table sat across from me and only had eyes for the man who sat beside her, the man who had seen staring so rudely at me before. She wore a ridiculous amount of bangles on her arms, especially for one of little importance, if people were ranked by their distance from the Emir at the head of the table. She never spared me a glance, making it her goal to be draped across the man beside her as often as possible.

I was uncomfortable. The only thing I felt that kept me seated was Hakim’s hand, which had taken hold of my own. I wanted to leave. On more than one occasion, Nadir spoke and said something that upset his father. The older woman would duck her head, as though she feared the Emir would reach out and strike the boy whenever he mouthed off. The talking would lessen and a tension would fill the room as all eyes went to the Emir, wondering how he would take what his son said. Nadir never seemed to fear his father. He picked up a cluster of grapes, taking one from the vine and lifting it high above his head to drop it in his mouth. When he caught it, he turned to his father and smiled as though he had no idea that his father was upset with him.

I leaned to my left to whisper to Hakim, my lips nearly brushing his ear; I did not desire for anyone else to hear me speak.

“I wish to go home,” I told him.

His hand gave mine a gentle squeeze. “And we shall, Sabriyya. Be patient.”

I wanted to get away from these people who were not like the warm people in Jalil’s house. They were cold and biting, each person attempting to be as subtly rude to another as possible. I wanted to return to Jalil’s and sit with Hakim and Aminah and watch the children play in the fountain. I wanted to go to Darioush, my dear horse and tell him of how I felt being in this room. I wanted to tell him how much I enjoyed being in Jalil’s house. I had referred to that place as home, yet I had only spent a day there. It felt like home to me, somehow, and I would accept the people there as my family. I would be content with being Hakim’s cousin. I would be his daughter if I could.