desire to discuss his
affairs. Although he was saying nothing to his elder, his face tightened.
‘I know that what I am saying vexes you, but I shall go on sayingit until I have said it all, and if our too-recent friendship does not give me the right, my age and position do. When you
saw that woman for the first time in the palace you looked upon her with desire. She is young and beautiful and you liked
her poetry and her audaciousness warmed your blood. However you had differing attitudes towards the gold. She stuffed her
mouth with what disgusted you. She behaved like a court poetess and you acted as a sage. Have you spoken to her about it since
then?’
The reply was no, and, even though Omar said nothing, Abu Taher heard it clearly. He continued:
‘Often, at the beginning of an affair, the sensitive questions are avoided. There is a fear of destroying this fragile edifice
which has just been erected with a thousand precautions, but as far as I am concerned what sets you apart from this woman
is both serious and fundamental. You do not look at life the same way.’
‘She is a woman and, what is more, a widow. She is trying to fend for herself without depending on a master, and I can only
admire her courage. And how can one reproach her for taking the gold which her verses are worth?’
‘I understand,’ said the
qadi
, satisfied at having finally dragged his friend into that discussion. ‘But you must admit, at least, that this woman would
be unable to envisage any life other than that of the court.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘You must also admit that, for you, court life is odious and unbearable and that you will not stay a moment longer than necessary.’
An embarrassed silence followed. Abu Taher finished by stating resolutely:
‘I have told you that you should listen to a true friend. Henceforth I will not bring up the matter unless you raise it first
yourself.’
CHAPTER 10
By the time they reached Samarkand, they were exhausted by the cold, the jolting of their mounts and the disquiet which had
arisen amongst them. Omar retired to his pavilion straight away without taking the time to dine. During the trip he had composed
three quatrains which he started to recite aloud, ten times, twenty times, replacing a word and modifying a turn of phrase
before consigning them to the secrecy of his manuscript.
Jahan, who unexpectedly arrived earlier than usual, had slipped in through the half-open door and noiselessly taken off her
woollen shawl. She was walking on tip-toe behind Omar. He was still distracted when she suddenly threw her bare arms around
his neck, pressed his face to hers and let her perfumed hair fall into his eyes.
Omar should have been overjoyed. Could a lover hope for more tender aggression? Once the moment of surprise had passed should
he not in turn have folded his arms around his beloved, held her and impressed on her body all the pain of absence and all
the warmth of reunion? However, Omar was upset by this intrusion. His book still lay open in front of him and he wanted to
get it out of sight. His first impulse was to free himself, and even though he repented immediately and his hesitancy had
only lasted a second, Jahan, who had felt this wavering and aloofness, very quicklyunderstood the reason. She looked at the book with distrust, as if it were a rival.
‘Excuse me! I was so impatient to see you again that I did not think my arrival could unsettle you.’
A heavy silence lay between them. Khayyam hastened to break it.
‘It’s the book, isn’t it? It is true that I had not thought of showing it to you. I have always hidden it when you were here,
but the person who gave it to me made me promise to keep it a secret.’
He held it out to her. She leafed through it for a few moments, pretending to be completely indifferent to the sight of a
few pages of writing scattered amongst dozens of blank pages. She handed it back to him with a decided
affairs. Although he was saying nothing to his elder, his face tightened.
‘I know that what I am saying vexes you, but I shall go on sayingit until I have said it all, and if our too-recent friendship does not give me the right, my age and position do. When you
saw that woman for the first time in the palace you looked upon her with desire. She is young and beautiful and you liked
her poetry and her audaciousness warmed your blood. However you had differing attitudes towards the gold. She stuffed her
mouth with what disgusted you. She behaved like a court poetess and you acted as a sage. Have you spoken to her about it since
then?’
The reply was no, and, even though Omar said nothing, Abu Taher heard it clearly. He continued:
‘Often, at the beginning of an affair, the sensitive questions are avoided. There is a fear of destroying this fragile edifice
which has just been erected with a thousand precautions, but as far as I am concerned what sets you apart from this woman
is both serious and fundamental. You do not look at life the same way.’
‘She is a woman and, what is more, a widow. She is trying to fend for herself without depending on a master, and I can only
admire her courage. And how can one reproach her for taking the gold which her verses are worth?’
‘I understand,’ said the
qadi
, satisfied at having finally dragged his friend into that discussion. ‘But you must admit, at least, that this woman would
be unable to envisage any life other than that of the court.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘You must also admit that, for you, court life is odious and unbearable and that you will not stay a moment longer than necessary.’
An embarrassed silence followed. Abu Taher finished by stating resolutely:
‘I have told you that you should listen to a true friend. Henceforth I will not bring up the matter unless you raise it first
yourself.’
CHAPTER 10
By the time they reached Samarkand, they were exhausted by the cold, the jolting of their mounts and the disquiet which had
arisen amongst them. Omar retired to his pavilion straight away without taking the time to dine. During the trip he had composed
three quatrains which he started to recite aloud, ten times, twenty times, replacing a word and modifying a turn of phrase
before consigning them to the secrecy of his manuscript.
Jahan, who unexpectedly arrived earlier than usual, had slipped in through the half-open door and noiselessly taken off her
woollen shawl. She was walking on tip-toe behind Omar. He was still distracted when she suddenly threw her bare arms around
his neck, pressed his face to hers and let her perfumed hair fall into his eyes.
Omar should have been overjoyed. Could a lover hope for more tender aggression? Once the moment of surprise had passed should
he not in turn have folded his arms around his beloved, held her and impressed on her body all the pain of absence and all
the warmth of reunion? However, Omar was upset by this intrusion. His book still lay open in front of him and he wanted to
get it out of sight. His first impulse was to free himself, and even though he repented immediately and his hesitancy had
only lasted a second, Jahan, who had felt this wavering and aloofness, very quicklyunderstood the reason. She looked at the book with distrust, as if it were a rival.
‘Excuse me! I was so impatient to see you again that I did not think my arrival could unsettle you.’
A heavy silence lay between them. Khayyam hastened to break it.
‘It’s the book, isn’t it? It is true that I had not thought of showing it to you. I have always hidden it when you were here,
but the person who gave it to me made me promise to keep it a secret.’
He held it out to her. She leafed through it for a few moments, pretending to be completely indifferent to the sight of a
few pages of writing scattered amongst dozens of blank pages. She handed it back to him with a decided
Similar Books
