"As you will." The black-turbaned wazir bowed graciously, but I perceived a note of warning in his tone. He turned and led us through the vast, empty reception hall, his dark blue robe billowing behind him like a sail, his soft-slippered feet silent on polished green marble floors.
We walked through one enormous room after another, passing beneath blue-painted domes as big and deep as the heavenly skybowl; some were even pierced by thousands of tiny star-shaped holes to imitate the night sky. Tall pillars upheld these domes, and the grand, shapely arches. The walls of some of the rooms were covered with blue-and-green painted tiles; others were painted red or warm ochre, and decorated with gold-leaf peacock plumes. Along the walls there were chests and boxes-and in several rooms, throne-like seats-of exotic woods inlaid with gold and silver and pearl. And everywhere were rugs and carpets of the most cunningly intricate design and colour. We passed one room where the ceiling was covered with red-striped cloth that hung loosely down from a central timber pillar, so that the room entirely resembled a tent.
The wazir then led us along a wide corridor of onyx columns and out into a walled garden with a fountain in the centre, through this to an iron scroll-work gate and into the arboretum, or tree garden, where dwelt his master, awaiting divine inspiration.
I felt slightly foolish and out of place: my clothes were far more extravagant than anything I had ever worn; the turban made my head feel several times too large and dangerously unsteady; the oil on my moustache kept getting onto my lips, making them feel slippery and strange; the knife hilt dug into my hip bone, and I greatly feared wounding myself by bending over too quickly. In all it was, I suppose, a necessity, but I would have been far more at ease and confident if less had been made of me.
But the amir, having insisted on this course, had departed, leaving me to the expert ministrations of his servants. First, I had been stripped naked and washed with scented water poured from a tall, slender ewer into a huge brass bowl in which I was made to stand. My hair, long now and without a trace of tonsure anymore, was dressed with perfumed oil, and my skin as well. Then, one after another, various coloured tunics were brought and tried until they settled on one to match the red robe and cloak the amir had chosen. Next I had been given a wide black belt which wrapped my waist four times, and a pair of soft black leather boots. A long narrow strip of creamy white cloth became a turban, the end of which was secured with a ruby pin. It was as they were finishing that Faysal had entered carrying the Qadi-knife. Thrusting the blade through a fold in my belt, Faysal pronounced me ready and I was conducted to the courtyard where Sadiq was waiting.
Two milk-white horses stood in the yard and the amir was watching his grooms saddle the wonderful animals. At my approach, he turned and his handsome face brightened with genuine pleasure. "Ah! A very Prince of Persia! Please, do not let Kazimain see you, or she will never allow you out of her sight."
"Do you think me ready to stand before the khalifa?" I asked.
"My friend," intoned Sadiq seriously, "were you going to meet Allah himself, you could not look any finer. Now then, when was the last time you sat a horse?"
"I cannot remember."
Sadiq frowned. "I thought as much…" Turning abruptly, he called to one of the grooms. "Jalal! Take Sharwa away. Bring Yaqin instead." To me he confided, "You will find her more to your liking."
The stableman left the courtyard on the run leading one of the white horses-only to return some moments later, leading a pale grey mare with a black tail, mane, and forelegs. The sunlight on the animal's coat made it look silky. "Ah, yes," sighed the amir appreciatively. "She is a wonder, this Yaqin." He stepped to the horse and patted her smooth neck, and motioned for me to do the same. "Here, Beautiful One, is my friend Aidan," he said, speaking softly into the horse's ear. "He is a good fellow. Do not disgrace him, please."
As if in answer to the amir's request, the mare tossed her head up and down, and nuzzled Sadiq's neck. "Later," the amir said, scolding lightly, "if you behave yourself, you shall have a fig." To me, he said, "She has developed a liking for honeyed dates as well."
We watched the stablemen go about saddling the horses; they accomplished their work deftly and efficiently, handling the horses with polite firmness. "It is a sin," observed Sadiq idly, "to mistreat a horse." He clearly enjoyed his horses, and lavished great affection on them. "A very great sin. One of the worst."
"Mahmoud tells me all men shall ride such horses in paradise," I mentioned.
