The Mer- Lion (52 page)

As the courtiers gasped at such a fantastic verdict, the stunned couple flew into each other's arms and wept openly. She wailed, "Why did I complain?" while he could only repeat, "No. No. Never." The two were separated by officials and led from the room.

The buzzing in the courtroom did not die down quickly. Not by a blink of the eye, however, did Aisha show sympathy for the couple; she had none. Both woman and man in her opinion, were weak; the judgment was fitting. It also speeded the cause of justice. Many a

case yet to be heard was quickly settled between litigants who wished to avoid the possibility of a verdict such as this. When the holder of the docket called out the next cases to be heard, only the bitterest and most vitriolic came forth; the rest quickly announced that their differences had been resolved without benefit of the court

At last, as the sun reached its zenith, the Moulay sent a eunuch scuttling off to the kitchen,' Tell the Vizier of the Third Kitchen that I would eat as soon as this next case is heard." Yawning, the Moulay indicated the court should continue. Consulting his list, the crier nasally intoned, "The man Ibrahim versus the Sheikh Hatim."

From the back of the room came two black-turbaned Berber tribesmen, one clutching a scroll containing his charge, the other grasping the scroll of his defense. Surrendering his scroll to an official, the accuser salaamed—kneeling and bumping his head twice on the tile
floor
,
then prostrating himself fully in front of
the
Moulay. He wore a tattered robe, tied at the waist with a bit of rope, and shabby simple desert sandals, while the accused stood by in a snowy white robe with a bejeweled and tasseled belt about his middle.

The accuser rose to his feet and began, "Know ye, O great and gracious
Moulay,
that I, Ibrahim, son of Mahamma, of the tribe of Zeyd, did while at a horse fair in Kaifouan, approach the Sheikh Hatim tcask that he allow his stallion to service my chestnut mare, Sherifa, the love of my life and the pride of my tribe. Know you, Moulay, that this mare has shared my tent since the day she was foaled. No mare has a broader forehead, a finer muzzle, a more intelligent eye. To see the beautiful ears that spring from her well-mailed foretop, to watch them respond instandy to everything she spies, that, O Moulay, is to know
true
beauty."

A sharp jab from the pointed stick hastened his speech. "But know ye, O Moulay, that even though he swelled with pride at my request, the Sheikh Hatim did hold back the services of his stallion in the hopes of my offering to pay for that which should have been mine by right with no ransom. Naturally, I refused. And later that day, I sent my wife to him with a plea that he reconsider."

Like a Greek chorus, the courtiers nodded in unison. Such was the right and proper course to take in such a situation.

"The Sheikh Hatim took my wife into his tent and used her."

The courtiers again nodded. The sheikh was within his rights.

"But then he sent her back with his refusal, claiming my mare was unworthy of his stallion."

The courtiers shook their heads. If the wife were worthy of the sheikh, then the mare was worthy of the stallion.

"I refused to take no for an answer, and when the sheikh and his tribe left the fair, I followed them on my mare. At their first campsite, I again approached the Sheikh Hatim, reminding him that in the desert no man can refuse the services of his male to one who has need of him. Reluctantiy, the sheikh agreed, but demanded a stud fee."

Even Aisha gasped. This was gross discourtesy. To ask pay for such service at a fair was one thing, but on the desert it must be given freely. The Moulay merely yawned again. Not only did animals bore him, but so did tribal law. The only laws he recognized were his own.

"This stud fee I refused to pay, O Moulay," said Ibrahim, "though, in truth, if I had the amount he demanded, I could have bought a foal or even purchased another mare rather than breeding my beloved Sherifa. And so I left his camp. But the stallion, unbeknownst to me, smelted the heat of my mare, broke his tether and followed us into the desert. While I slept in the arras of my wife in my tent, the stallion, more knowledgeable of the courtesies of the desert than his master, did mount my spirited mare."

Aisha nodded approval. The stallion did well.

"The ensuing squealing and snorting awoke me from a deep sleep," Ibrahim continued, "and at this point the men of Sheikh Hatim tracked the stallion to my camp. I protested my innocence; they did not believe me. Instead, they took the amount of the stud fee from my meager possessions: my wife and my trusty cross-wound bow, and also the mare.

"Know ye, O Moulay, that in this I claim the Sheikh Hatim's men were wrong. First, by desert custom he should have given freely of the services of his stallion. Second, he should not have had his pleasure with my wife unless he intended his stud to do the same to my mare. And lastly, his men should not have taken in fee the love of my life. I beseech you, O Moulay, direct Sheikh Hatim to return my mare to me."

So ended the tale of Ibrahim; now Sheikh Hatim rose in his own defense.

"Know ye, O Moulay, the magnificent and the just, that I, Sheikh Hatim, have in my possession a bay stallion with black points, a Kohlanee, descended from one of the five mares of the prophet Mohammed.

"I ask you, O Moulay, should I, the owner of such a horse, allow him to waste his seed on an Atterbi mare, a drudge among horses, but little better than a donkey? She was a small thing, and scrawny, for the man does not have enough wealth to feed his mare well, let alone his family.

"Yet even so, as a Berber, I might have lent the services of my stallion except for one thing. The mare's feet. Three woe dark and one was white. Remember ye, O Moulay, the teachings of our forefathers on the markings of a horse—four white feet are good; a star is very good; two white hind feet and a star are nearly as good. And to have the two near feet white is excellent because one then mounts over the white. Good, too, is the near hind foot when it is white. But beware of the off hind foot alone being white. This is the mark of a bad horse. It can cost you your life. Your enemy will overtake you and slay you. Your son will be an orphan. Know ye, O Moulay, as I stand before you and Allah, the mare's off hind foot was white."

As one, the courtiers rolled their eyes in horror. Well they knew the teachings of the elders on the markings of a bad horse.

Having made a telling point, in his opinion, Sheikh Hatim continued his defense. "Not content with my refusal, the man Ibrahim sent his wife to me. She begged me that I agree, saying that the man had no sons and his mare had no foals. Out of pity, I took the woman into my tent that her husband might indeed have a son, even if not of his own seed. But still I refused to breed the mare. My stallion leaves his mark on his get; everyone seeing the star descending down between the flaring nostrils would know."

Knowing looks confirmed that such was indeed the way of Arab horses.

"After we left the horse fair, we made camp at an oasis many miles to the west. Right on our heels came the man on his mare, with his poor wife on a mule. Again he begged me to service his
wretched mare, demanding, as was his right, that I agree to such an ill-fated mating.

"Courtesy and custom left me no choice, but I decided to test him to see how highly he valued this breeding. I asked of him a nominal, truly paltry stud fee, but only to test him, as Allah be my witness. He refused. Before he left my camp, he swore that one way or another he would have a foal of my stud. Fearing he meant to steal my jewel, that night I tethered Jafar, for that is the stallion's royal name, with an iron chain around his hind fetlock. The chain I passed through the tent cloth and secured with a stake driven well into the ground beneath the felt upon which my wife and I sleep when traveling."

Turbans bobbed up and down applauding his wisdom. . "That night, Ibrahim crept into my tent and insinuated his body between myself and my wife, first pressing gently against her and then against me to make room in the middle. He then slit the felt and freed the stake, crept out of the tent and led Jafar away with the chain draped over his haunches.

Heads nodded in approbation of such true Berber daring, that midnight caper in the bed.

The Sheikh disabused them: "But Ibrahim did not call out his triumph as is the practice of the desert. Neither did he wait for us to waken. Instead, like a jackal, he stoje away with my valuable stallion and made a mating with his mare. Too late my men rode into camp and opened his tent. Inspired by the performance of my virile stallion, he was riding his woman."

"Ibrahim feared for his life, and well he might, for the life of a horse thief in the desert is forfeit. He begged my men to spare him, offering all his possessions if only they would let him live. They rightly took his wife, his bow, and the mare, and left him— miserable excuse for a man that he is—the mule to ride, woman-style. O Moulay, since I and my men acted with good conscience, we ask you to confirm us in the property taken to redeem the life of a common thief."

The Moulay, hungry and bored, wasted no time on deliberation or consultation with court officials, not even Aisha. ''Both have defied custom, neither is worthy to be a horse breeder. Geld the stallion and dispatch his gonads to the Dar al Bey. As to the mare—deliver her
by the sword of her unborn foal and make her barren. If she lives, return her to her owner, otherwise I affirm the Sheikh Hatira in his possession of the Spanish-made arquebus and of the wife. Case closed."

With that the Moulay clapped his hands, and the huge doors of the Court of Justice swung open. Led by the Vizier of the Third Kitchen, dozens of servants staggered in under the weight of mammoth copper trays, and every man in the room—accusers and accused, friends and witnesses, hangers-on and courtiers—hastened to find a place at one of the trays.

Since Aisha could not eat in public without unveiling, she excused herself and, accompanied by her bodyguard, left the room.The Moulay, of course, was served first—but only after a large blackamoor tasted each dish for poison—and washed each bite down with wine, the drink banned from the tongues of law-abiding Moslems.

While the court ate, many speculated on what the Moulay would do with the sizable testicles of the stallion Jafar. Some said they would be spitted and roasted; others held out for boiling, noting that the resulting juices made a potent and invigorating drink. A few kept their thoughts to themselves, greatly aiding the appetite and digestion of their neighbors.

The.meal ended with sherbet, then the giant trays were removed. The Moulay's indigestion—a direct result of overeating and drinking—he blamed on the strain of sitting in judgment. And the next few cases received severe if not vituperative resolution!

The case of the dowry: One of a loving couple was sterile, the marriage voided, now the fathers squabbled over the return of the dowry. The Moulay ruled the dowry would become the property of the palace. Next case.

The case of marital
rights
:
A harem wife complained she was not getting her rightful turn with her much-bedded husband. He countered that she was past her prime and was lazy in bed. The Moulay ruled the man should sleep with no woman for an entire month, and then might return to his harem ways, only if he shared himself equally among all his wives. Next case.

The case of the slaves: A wealthy landowner claimed a merchant had offered two of his slaves freedom, arid then had shipped them to a foreign port and resold them. He asked for two new slaves in
return. The merchant denied all in the name of Allah, and asked the Moulay to take his life if he were lying. The Moulay did. Loud were the thanks of the landowner for the privilege of assigning two of his best servants to duty at the Bardo for life—his punishment for letting the two slaves escape in the first place. Next case.

Consulting his list, the crier found every name crossed off. Audience Day was at an end. He was about to announce this when the doors to the left of the dais swung open and Aisha finally reentered the courtroom. She had been consulting with Ramlah. The two had concluded this was the chance they had waited for to make public and official the competition to which the Moulay had so far only privately agreed.

Behind Aisha came but two of her mute bodyguards, both veiled, and dressed all in white. Ali had disappeared
...
to attend the slave auction. Aisha's eyes never left her hated father's. When but five paces from him, she stopped and prostrated herself. Motionless, she waited an almost interminable length of time until he squeaked permission for her to rise. She remained obsequiously kneeling.

Her voice when she spoke was even more submissive. "O Moulay, I come before you as a humble supplicant. I am six years beyond the age of maturity, yet I have no husband, an injustice to you and our.country."

The Moulay's eyes narrowed. What was she up to? Was she canceling the competition? Or—his heart pounded—was she about
to accuse him of her ravishing? She wouldn't dare, he blustered to himself; knowing full well that this offspring of a barbaric Berber was capable of anything unless he stopped her. She and her mother had made a bargain, and they must live up to it. In desperation, he rose to his feet, and in a voice shrill with fury, he shrieked at her,
"You shall have a husband all right. Chosen by competition in a public contest with you as the prize for the winner. The losers, I shall deal with
..."
His voice faded off while he considered how he had planned to deal with diem
...
with sword and mace, fire and cobra, lions and spears, ropes and water. And more. And more. He slavered in cruel anticipation.                  '