Chapter LXIX
In the morning word came that the Sultan, God grant him success, had been seen passing in the distance and about mid-morning the whole army began to descend back towards Jericho. As usual the great ones went ahead and once again Guy kept us back with the baggage. We spent several pleasant hours dragging the carts through the ford of the Jordan with much splashing and laughter and by evening of the second day we were back in Jerusalem where Trudy demanded my tale and rewarded me for my hardships with many kisses.
All the talk of the bazaar, however, was of how the king had been unable to accompany the army because of his illness. Guy spent much time at the palace and looked grave when he returned and many great lords stayed in Jerusalem instead of returning to their castles and estates.
With the danger of war with the Sultan, may God defend him, past, pilgrims began to make their journeys again and not long after we returned to al-Quds a party was formed to go to Jericho. I had forgotten all about the matter of Trudy visiting my tents, but she had not forgotten and reminded her father. As a result she joined Charles, Hamed and me as we marshalled the pilgrims for the journey. In the cold grey light of dawn we marched slowly out of the city and up over the Mount of Olives to our first stop at the Tomb of St Lazarus in Bethany.
"Do they always go this slowly?" Trudy asked me in Arabic as we waited for the pilgrims to finish their prayers.
"Sometimes even more slowly, ya Sitt," I told her.
"No wonder you always come back so late," she said. "I used to wonder why it took so long when it is possible to go down to Jericho and return before darkness."
The sun was more than a handsbreadth above the eastern hills when we finally left Bethany and started the long descent to the Inn of the Good Samaritan. While the pilgrims rested there I bade farewell to Charles and Hamed and set out with Trudy for my father's tents, which we found without trouble in the usual place in the wadi.
"Trudy," I said as soon as we were out of hearing of the pilgrims, "when we come to my father's tents you should cover your face."
"Why?" she demanded. "Am I that ugly?"
I grinned at her. "Sitt, you are as beautiful as a houri, but you are a woman and I do not know what strangers may be in the tents. I will explain the customs of the Franks to my father and I am sure there will be no problem, but before strangers it would not be good to show your face lest it be said that the tents of the Bani Ibrim harbour loose women."
Trudy nodded and pulled her scarf down and wound it around her face so that only her eyes were visible, then she unwound it again and laughed at me. She guided her horse close to mine and said, "Am I really as beautiful as a houri, Fuad?"
For a moment I didn't know what to say, but then I thought that boldness might be the best response.
"Of course, Sitt," I said, "only the Prophet, peace be upon him, never warned us that houris had red hair and green eyes."
We both laughed and continued to banter happily until we rounded a bend in the wadi and saw the black tents before us. At once Trudy reached for her scarf and wrapped it around her head.
"Fuad! Fuad has come," my younger brothers shouted, running before us into the tent.
My father and one of my uncles came out and stood waiting as we rode up the small slope from the wadi bed to where the tents were pitched. As soon as we reached them I leaped down from my horse, leaving my father to take its reins and hold it, then ran around to help Trudy down from her horse.
"Ya Abi," I said, embracing my father, "Salaam aleikum."
"Ahlan wa sahlan," my father said and then turned to Trudy. "Who is this?"
"This is es-Sitt, the daughter of Sid Guy, my lord. She asks your hospitality for one day."
"A ferangi woman in our tents?" My father sounded surprised. "A Nasrani woman? What does she want?"
"She wants to see how we live," I explained. "Let her go around with my mother for this day."
"But how can she go around with your mother?" my father asked. "How can they talk to each other?"
"Ya Abu Fuad," Trudy said, "Salaam aleikum. Keef halak?"
My father stared at her in astonishment and then touched his forehead and his breast.
"Al-hamdu-lillah, ya Sitt. Wa keef halik?"
"Al-hamdu-lillah," Trudy replied.
There were several more exchanges and then my father turned to me.
"She speaks our language!" he said.
"Of course," I said. "She speaks our language as well as we do."
"Wallah! Allahu akhbar!"
My father strode into the tent and called to my mother and a moment later came out again with my mother following behind him.
"Ya Sitt, this is the mother of Fuad. Ya wife, this is the daughter of Fuad's lord. She has come to see how we live. Take her and treat her as your daughter."
"I will come for her in the morning," I told my father. "Now I must go to rejoin the Nasrani pilgrims."
I rode as quickly as possible back up the wadi and cut across to the path leading down to Mar Girgis. The pilgrims were already in sight when I reached the top of the steep path so I waited for them to reach me.
"Your father accepted her?" Hamed asked.
"Did she accept your father?" Charles asked.
"Of course," I said. "Why not?"
"Because," Charles explained, "no matter what you say, you must admit that there are differences between the life of the beduin and the life of a city girl. There are more sheep and camels, for one thing."
"And not so many feather beds and sweetmeats for another," Hamed broke in.
I shrugged. "It was not my choice to take her," I pointed out.
For the rest of the day we were busy with the pilgrims and I didn't have time to wonder how Trudy was getting on, but when nightfall came and I ambled along behind the slowest of the pilgrims on the ascent to Bethany I had plenty of time to think and to wonder what stories I would hear when I returned to pick her up.
I went with the others to the house of Sid Guy to exchange my horse for a fresh one and then, without pausing for rest or refreshment, set off back down the road to our tents. It was still mid-morning when I came round the bend in the wadi and my brothers went racing in, screaming the news that I had come.
My father emerged from the tent and stood waiting for me but there was no sign of Trudy.
"Salaam, Fuad," he said as I climbed down from my horse.
"Salaam, abi," I said as I embraced him. "Where is the ferangi woman?"
"By God!" my father groaned. "By very God!"
I felt my heart lurch. "Is everything well?" I demanded.
"What can I say?" My father threw up his hands and turned to lead the way into the tent. He sat down and mechanically reached for the coffee pot and began to make coffee for us. "God has given to our women tongues that are long enough and active enough, but by the beard of the prophet, Frankish women have tongues that are twice as long and three times as active."
"She talked much?" I asked in surprise.
"Talk?" my father exclaimed. "No, she didn't talk. She asked questions. From the time you left until now she has done nothing except ask questions. How are tents made? How do you milk a camel? Why do men wear keffiyeh? Why do women live in the harem? Where do we find water? What is the name for this place and that place? Ya Allah! May God grant us refuge from such women."
I laughed. "I knew that she was eager to discover how we lived," I said. "Did you have answers for all her questions?"
My father shook his head slowly. "She asked questions of me, of your mother, of your uncles, your brothers, your sisters. Only the animals escaped her voice."
"So where is she now?" I asked.
My father shrugged. "She left with your brother to take the sheep to pasture. Inshallah she will return with your brother, if she has not deafened him with her endless questions."
"But I have to take her back to her father today," I protested. "Where has he gone? I will follow him and fetch her."
"Yesterday the flocks grazed by al-Mansur," my father told me. "Today they will go there again and then go on to al-Bayit when the grass is finished. Have you eaten?"
I thought for a moment. "No, not since yesterday."
"Eat, then, in the name of God, lest you faint from hunger when she wearies you with her questions."
Now that food had been mentioned, I realised that I was starving hungry, so with only a token protest I sat down and gratefully received the bread and olives my mother gave me. While I ate she told me of what she and Trudy had done the previous day: they had ground flour and baked bread, woven an arms-length or more of the new panel for the tent, fetched firewood and water and done all the things that a woman does.
"Did she ask many questions?" I asked between mouthfulls.
My mother looked thoughtful. "She asked many questions," she said at last, "but how else shall one who is shut up in a city and not free like us learn about life?"
