We talked of other things then-the heat and dust of desert travel, the remarkable abilities of camels in this regard, and the interminable southern rebellion. At mention of Abu's campaign, Faysal shook his head. "Word is not good, my friend," he said. "The revolt has quickly become a war and the khalifa's forces have not been able to contain it as they hoped. Many have been killed on both sides, but the rebels are growing in strength, while Abu's numbers decline."
Although Faysal did not say it, I reckoned by this that the peace with Byzantium was more important to the Arabs than ever before. The rebellion was taxing the caliphate heavily; the Arabs could not fight two different wars on two such faraway fronts and hope to survive, much less win the conflict. I understood very well the predicament the Arabs faced.
After Faysal had gone, I sat and contemplated the curious opportunity this information had created for me. As I sat thinking, it came into my mind that I was in a rare and privileged position: perhaps only one other person in all Byzantium possessed the knowledge that I possessed. And that person was the traitor Nikos, and perhaps even he did not guess how much the Arabs needed the peace treaty. Certainly, no one in Byzantium knew of both Nikos's treachery and the Arabs' need. This knowledge gave me power. True, I would have to return to Constantinople to realize this power-a detail which imposed its own difficulties.
But that aside, if I were to reach the emperor and inform him that an attack on the Sarazens just now would win back in one campaign all that the empire had lost to the Arab predation over the years, how long would Basil the Macedonian hesitate? To crush an enemy that has for generations bedevilled the empire would be too sweet a victory to resist. The reward would be mine to name. But could I do it? Could I betray the amir and his people-those who had saved my life-just to satisty my bloodlust?
Oh, there was power here; I could feel it. Where power exists, danger lies close at hand. I did not cozen myself with illusions that the Sarazens would leave anyone alive who could, with a word, destroy them. I would have to act quickly to protect myself.
When Mahmoud came for me a little while later, I told him that I did not want to go into the city with him today. "Instead," I said, "I want you to tell me about the customs of marriage observed by the Arabs."
His smile was quick, and his reply suitably oblique. Glancing at my new sandals, he said, "Would this knowledge have for you a practical application, my friend?"
"I am ever curious, Mahmoud, as you know."
"Then I will enlighten you," he said, and made to sit down.
"Not here," I told him quickly. "Come, let us go to the roof garden and enjoy the day before it grows too hot."
Once on the roof, I led the way along the more secluded pathways so that we would not be overheard. As we walked in the shade of small, fan-leafed palms and flowering creepers, Mahmoud began to instruct me in the marriage customs of his race. "It may surprise you," he said, "but there is no single practice which all Arab peoples observe. We are a nation of tribes, you see; each tribe will hold to its own particular rites in such matters."
"Then let us take the amir's tribe-for example."
"Very well," he agreed, "the people of the amir's tribe, for example, come from the southwest where more primitive customs even now prevail. The marriage rite itself is exceedingly simple: a man and woman make vows before their kindred and the woman goes to live with the man in his house. There the marriage is consummated in the usual way, a great celebration ensues, and the two families concerned are ever after united-a unity which is further enhanced by the exchange of gifts."
"What sort of gifts?" I wondered.
"Any sort at all," he answered. "The gifts can vary greatly, depending on the wealth of the respective tribes: horses and camels, for the wealthy, in addition to gold and silver; or, if the young people have no riches they may exchange tokens only." He paused, regarding me critically. "It may serve you to know that to this very day, many of the desert tribes hold to an ancient belief in the chieftain's right to grant or withhold the marriage of his kinswomen. For this reason, the prudent man always seeks to win the tribal leader's approval. Sometimes, he acquires this approval even before asking the young woman. Sometimes, this permission is granted without the bride's consent. The practice remains the same, whether a man has one wife, or many."
"I see."
"If I were to find myself in the position-for example," he mused pointedly, "of wishing to marry a woman of the amir's tribe, it would be to the amir I must address my request. Whether my appeal was granted would be entirely the amir's decision."
I had suspected that this might be the way of it. Similar customs were not unknown in the royal houses of Eire, where, it was held, certain queens in ancient times had kept more than one husband.
