Abida, slave previously kept in the Tafilalt. Thirteen years old. Virgin
.
A name, a date, the briefest of descriptions: such sterile words on a page to represent the enactment of fertility. The couching book is maintained with rigorous care in order to establish the birth and legitimacy of the sultanâs children, to keep a schedule that will settle all arguments, and prevent jealousies and disputes. He is but six years older than me, Ismail, and has been sultan for only the last five, and yet he has already engendered hundreds of infants upon his wives and concubines. The sultan lies with a virgin almost every night, although he has a few favourites to whom he returns from time to time. Unlike King Shahriyar in the Arabian tales, he does not have his conquests strangled the following morning to ensure their fidelity. There is little chance of infidelity in this palace â the harem is fiercely guarded by the eunuchs.
Zidana maintains control over the harem, and over the sultan too. Almost every night, after fifth prayer, once Ismail has eaten and bathed, she will arrange a gathering at which a selection of worthy candidates will promenade in the gardens, or play music for him, or sing beneath the orange trees, or in his private quarters, or just lie on the divans looking seductive. For this opportunity, Zidana is well bribed by those seeking advantage: to sway Ismailâs judgement, and to seduce him away from her rival Fatima, she will lead him to a certain girl and extol her virtues, indicating a delicately turned ankle or beautifully hennaed hands; even baring a breast to show off its curve and weight. The sultan, who is as headstrong as a charging horse in all other things, is surprisingly happy to be led by his Chief Wife in matters of the bedchamber.
You would think there was an incalculable alchemy to the piquing of desire, but either she knows him too well or he is indiscriminate. Certainly, he has a prodigious appetite. Even the most energetic of men would be surfeited within weeks of such boundless plenty, but not Ismail. It is another of the reasons he is so revered: the women adore him to the point of idolatry. They creep up behind him to touch the hem of his robe for good luck; if he touches them they do not wash the hand or cheek for days; they keep talismans they have gleaned from their time with him â a hair from his head or beard, the seed that has dried on their thighs, or that they have kept all night in their mouths â in little phials or amulets that they wear so that its
baraka
, that mysterious force of blessing and luck the sultan exudes, will ward off illness and the evil eye. Those whom he beds will be carried in procession about the harem the following morning. The greatest baraka of all is to bear his child: though after his initial enthusiasm â accompanied by the firing of cannons, the proclamation and trumpets (for the birth of a boy), or the fireworks or strewing of flowers (for a girl) â he soon loses interest. Zidana makes sure of that too, for always she keeps her firstborn â Zidan â to the forefront, and although the child is both a brute and a dunce, Ismail dotes upon him, carries him around the gardens on his shoulders, spoils him most horribly and has named him his heir, for all that his mother was a slave.
Of course, there is a high natural mortality rate and many do not make it past the first few months, but it is worthy of note that there is a marked preponderance of boy children born to mothers for whom the sultan has shown more than a passing interest dying of various colics, gripes and vomiting disorders. Often their mothers follow them to the grave: dead of grief, Iâve heard the empress declare, quite impassively, even as the other women weep and wail and tear their clothes. I say no more.
I put the couching book back in my chest and am visited once more by a shudder of horror. The pattens should be standing in their accustomed place
.
A name, a date, the briefest of descriptions: such sterile words on a page to represent the enactment of fertility. The couching book is maintained with rigorous care in order to establish the birth and legitimacy of the sultanâs children, to keep a schedule that will settle all arguments, and prevent jealousies and disputes. He is but six years older than me, Ismail, and has been sultan for only the last five, and yet he has already engendered hundreds of infants upon his wives and concubines. The sultan lies with a virgin almost every night, although he has a few favourites to whom he returns from time to time. Unlike King Shahriyar in the Arabian tales, he does not have his conquests strangled the following morning to ensure their fidelity. There is little chance of infidelity in this palace â the harem is fiercely guarded by the eunuchs.
Zidana maintains control over the harem, and over the sultan too. Almost every night, after fifth prayer, once Ismail has eaten and bathed, she will arrange a gathering at which a selection of worthy candidates will promenade in the gardens, or play music for him, or sing beneath the orange trees, or in his private quarters, or just lie on the divans looking seductive. For this opportunity, Zidana is well bribed by those seeking advantage: to sway Ismailâs judgement, and to seduce him away from her rival Fatima, she will lead him to a certain girl and extol her virtues, indicating a delicately turned ankle or beautifully hennaed hands; even baring a breast to show off its curve and weight. The sultan, who is as headstrong as a charging horse in all other things, is surprisingly happy to be led by his Chief Wife in matters of the bedchamber.
You would think there was an incalculable alchemy to the piquing of desire, but either she knows him too well or he is indiscriminate. Certainly, he has a prodigious appetite. Even the most energetic of men would be surfeited within weeks of such boundless plenty, but not Ismail. It is another of the reasons he is so revered: the women adore him to the point of idolatry. They creep up behind him to touch the hem of his robe for good luck; if he touches them they do not wash the hand or cheek for days; they keep talismans they have gleaned from their time with him â a hair from his head or beard, the seed that has dried on their thighs, or that they have kept all night in their mouths â in little phials or amulets that they wear so that its
baraka
, that mysterious force of blessing and luck the sultan exudes, will ward off illness and the evil eye. Those whom he beds will be carried in procession about the harem the following morning. The greatest baraka of all is to bear his child: though after his initial enthusiasm â accompanied by the firing of cannons, the proclamation and trumpets (for the birth of a boy), or the fireworks or strewing of flowers (for a girl) â he soon loses interest. Zidana makes sure of that too, for always she keeps her firstborn â Zidan â to the forefront, and although the child is both a brute and a dunce, Ismail dotes upon him, carries him around the gardens on his shoulders, spoils him most horribly and has named him his heir, for all that his mother was a slave.
Of course, there is a high natural mortality rate and many do not make it past the first few months, but it is worthy of note that there is a marked preponderance of boy children born to mothers for whom the sultan has shown more than a passing interest dying of various colics, gripes and vomiting disorders. Often their mothers follow them to the grave: dead of grief, Iâve heard the empress declare, quite impassively, even as the other women weep and wail and tear their clothes. I say no more.
I put the couching book back in my chest and am visited once more by a shudder of horror. The pattens should be standing in their accustomed place
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