"But I-" I began, and then realized I did not know what I could say to her anyway. I returned to the banquet hall and slumped heavily in my seat.
"Take my advice and eat something," urged Faysal. "The journey will be hard and we will not find food like this on the way. Eat! Enjoy yourself."
But I could eat nothing more, and sat watching the surrounding revelry in a misery of agitation and regret. When at last the amir retired to his private quarters, and we were free to stay or go as we would, I left the continuing celebration and went to my room where I spent a restless, wakeful night.
The thin dawn light found me ill-rested and on edge. At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, I rose at once, and realized that I had been listening all night for that sound. But it was not Kazimain who entered my room-an unknown servant appeared and placed the familiar tray on the wooden stand. The servant asked if there was anything else I required, then departed. Ignoring the food, I dressed instead, and then stood staring out the windhole, watching Ja'fariya come to life beneath the sun's watery rays. I thought of going to find Kazimain, and though I would not be allowed to enter the harim, I thought I might at least send a message for her to meet me in the courtyard.
I had just decided on this plan when I once again heard footsteps in the corridor. Thinking that Kazimain had come after all, I turned expectantly. A young serving boy appeared, and my heart fell. "Please, master," said the boy, his bow quick, all but indiscernible, "I am to say the horses are ready."
I thanked the boy and, taking a last look around my little cell of a room, I picked up my parchment scroll and tucked it carefully into an inner fold of my robe. I then proceeded along the corridor, and down the stairs, through the hall, and out into the courtyard where the horses were saddled and waiting.
For the sake of speed, the amir had decided that we should travel with no more than ten of the rafiq; the amir, Faysal, and myself, brought the number to thirteen. The same number as that of the monks who had begun the ill-fated pilgrimage, I thought ruefully, and it seemed an unfortunate coincidence to me. I might have prayed that this pilgrimage met with better success than the last one, but God, I knew, would heed not a word anyway. So, I saved my breath for breathing.
The amir had ordered the handsome grey saddled for me, and I walked to where a groom stood holding the reins, and spoke to the horse as Sadiq had done. Yaqin tossed her head and nuzzled my neck, giving every sign that she remembered me.
"She likes you."
I turned quickly. "Kazimain! I hoped I would see you before we left. I feared-"
"What? That I would let my almost-husband go away without wishing him farewell?" She stepped nearer, and I could see that she had put off her sorrow and was now reconciled to the necessity of my leaving. Indeed, she seemed cheerful and resolute-as if she was determined to make the best of my absence.
"I would give anything to stay with you," I told her.
"I know." She smiled. "I will miss you while we are apart, but it will only make our joy the greater when we meet again."
"And I will miss you, Kazimain." I ached to take her in my arms and kiss her, but such a thing was not done; it would have brought her into disrepute among her people. I was constrained to satisfy myself with merely gazing at her, and engraving her face upon my memory.
She grew uncomfortable beneath my gaze and lowered her eyes to her hands where she held a small silk-wrapped bundle. "A gift for you," she said. I thanked her and asked what it was, preparing to open it. "No," she said, laying a warm hand upon mine. "Do not open it now. Later, when you are far from here-then open it and think of me."
"Very well." I tucked the parcel into my belt. "Kazimain, I-" Now was my chance, but I found I was no better prepared than before; words abandoned me. "I am sorry, Kazimain. I wish it could be otherwise-deeply do I wish it."
"I know," she said.
Just then Lord Sadiq emerged from the palace. Faysal signalled to the rafiq, who mounted their horses and began riding towards the gate; he then called to me: "Be mounted! We go!"
"Farewell, Kazimain," I said awkwardly. "I love you."
She raised a hand to her lips and, kissing her finger-tips, pressed them to my lips. "Go with God, my love," she whispered. "I will pray for us both every day until we are together once more."
Abruptly, she turned and hastened away. Darting between the pillars, she was gone. Faysal called again, and I climbed into the saddle and followed him out. We proceeded through the still-empty streets of Ja'fariya, the air cool where shadows yet lingered. The amir rode at the head of the column with Faysal behind, leading the three pack mules, and myself beside him.
