Hasan - A Novel Part 7

She picked it up. "This must be something my sister forgot to put away." She glanced at the t.i.tle. "Hasan! This is it!"

"Glory be to Allah, the Omnipotent!" It did not occur to either of them to question this coincidence.

"Listen to this, brother," she said, excited, and began to read. "She who visiteth the pavilion on the roof of the palace with her handmaidens and damsels of the courts is the daughter of the sovereign of the jinn, the most puissant of their kings, who hath dominion over men and jinn and wizards and chiefs and tribes and cities and islands without number. He hath immense wealth in store and kings are his viceroys and va.s.sals and none may avail against him for the mult.i.tude of his troops and the extent of his empire and the muchness of his moneys. He hath a.s.signed his daughters a tract of country a whole year's journey in length, a region gird about with great rivers and oceans, and thereto none may attain, nor man nor jinni, without his cognizance. He hath an army of women, smiters with swords and lungers with lances, five and twenty thousand in number, each of whom, whenas she mounteth steed and donneth battle-gear, eveneth a thousand knights of the bravest."

"I knew she was a princess." Hasan said.

"Moreover he hath seven daughters, who in valor and prowess excel the amazons, and he hath made the eldest Queen over the country aforesaid. She is the wisest of her sisters and in valor and horsemanship and craft and skill and magic excels all the folk of her dominions. There is none more beautiful than she, and. ..."

Hasan nodded agreement as Rose plowed through the description with something less than perfect grace. "She is my love," he said.

"But Hasan-it is death to desire her. Her father would send his jinn to smash this palace and everyone in it, if you even admitted to looking at her. She can't be as desirable as all that."

"I'll die if I don't possess her."

Rose glanced further along in the text. "Hasan ..." she said quietly. "She is not of the True Faith."

"My soul is hers," he said simply.

Chapter 6. Marriage.

"Now this is my plan," Rose explained a few days later. "According to what I have learned, your bird-maiden will be here again before my sisters return from the hunt. You can never catch her as long as she has the plumed skin, the cloak of feathers, because that is the handiwork of the jinn. But we can overcome that if you follow my instructions exactly."

"Yes, O my sister!" Hasan said. His responses were considerably faster now, and he felt stronger.

"You must take your place at dawn and stay well hidden until they come. Don't let them see you, or we will all lose our lives. We're lucky you didn't bring calamity upon us all the last time. Stay close to the pavilion, though. When they take off their feather-suits, make sure you know which one belongs to the damsel you love. Then steal it and hide it, without being caught yourself. She can't return to her country without her suit; when you master it, you master her."

"But suppose they do see me?"

"They'll kill you. Then they'll fly home and tell the King, and he'll destroy us all, and our father's kingdom too."

"Why wouldn't she take one of the other suits?"

Rose squinted thoughtfully. "I don't think the magic works for anyone else. I mean, it has to be tuned to the individual ... I don't know what I mean. We'll just have to try it and see. If I'm right, her companions will take off without her. Only then can you safely approach. By that time she'll know that it isn't just an accident. Don't let her beguile you with sorrowful words, either. She'll say 'O thou who hast robbed me of my raiment, restore it to me, for I am at thy hands and at thy mercy!' If you relent-"

"She speaks a different language," Hasan pointed out.

"I know. With ostrich-down hind-parts . . . Anyway, if you relent and give back her suit, she'll arm herself with its magic and kill you and bring the vengeance of her sire upon us. Better not let her know you have the suit at all; hide it and keep it, and she will be your prisoner. Then carry her down to your chamber, and she will be yours."

Hasan was pleased with her advice. His sorrow left him and he felt up to the most difficult task. He kissed her, ate a hearty supper, and slept well that night.

He woke before dawn, took food and drink, said his prayers, and went to the terrace. He decided immediately against trying to hide inside the pavilion itself; they might approach it from any direction and sniff him out before the transformation. He could not trust the tree nearest it, either, because they landed there. He finally stayed right where he had the first time: under the shelter at the top of the stairs.

Nothing happened. At dusk Rose brought him meat and drink and a change of clothes, and he slept right there on the terrace. It was the same the following day, and the next, but he did not give up hope. On the contrary, his vigil seemed to improve his outlook, and he felt better than he had in a month. He rejoiced when he saw the new moon come, for he remembered that this had been the time of the month when he had spied the maidens before.

And the birds came! Once more they arrowed across the plain from the distant ocean, circled the palace, perceived n.o.body, and alighted in turn and trooped into the pavilion. Hasan hoped the calamitous beating of his own heart would not betray him.

Again they doffed their suits and stood revealed as beautiful girls. The loveliest of all was the princess. Hasan never took his eyes off her until she set aside the feather-suit; then he fixed the place in his mind with exceeding care. If he made a mistake, he would get the wrong girl . . . and the princess, warned by the episode, might never return.

He waited, tense with excitement, as one by one they entered the pool. The last to go was his love. For agonized moments he was afraid she wouldn't swim at all, this time. She finally joined the others.

Hasan clenched his teeth to prevent their chatter in the violence of his emotion, and crawled toward the pavilion. He was in plain sight, now; if one of them happened to look this way, he was done for. But they shrieked and splashed each other merrily, oblivious to everything out- side the pool.

Their noise even covered the involuntary sounds he made crawling through pebbles and brush. Allah was with him-so far.

He reached the wall of the pavilion and hunched beside it, invisible for the moment unless one of them chose to come and look over the edge. But the hardest part of his task was just ahead.

He crawled cautiously to the place where the surround- ing wall dropped down to form the entrance. He would have to go inside, for the suit he was after was beyond his reach from the outside. Why hadn't he thought to attach a hook to a line, and fish for it!

He paused. Would it be better to retreat, and wait for the following month with better preparations? He could lose everything by his precipitous urgency. Then he heard the glad laughter of the princess, and his heart was charged with renewed determination. He had to have her now!

This was the key move. He could not tell whether they were looking his way except by poking out his head. Once he did that, the spear was cast. Either they spied him or they did not; it was the chance he had to take.

He moved, and saw the pool, scarcely twenty feet away. One girl was facing him! He froze, panic-stricken, as she squinted her eyes, brought her hand up. He heard her say something in that strange language. Then another girl came to her and peered into her face.

Relief! She had a speck in her eye. He crawled quickly into the pavilion and hid himself behind the nearest bench. Success was so close, now; he had only to circle a quarter of the way around the pool and grab the feather-suit from behind this protection. If only they stayed in the pool!

The happy squeals continued. The backs of the benches farthest from the entrance were hollow. It seemed that the builder had economized on the expensive stone and brick. Hasan approached the suit, reached up ...

There was a sudden lull.

"What's the matter, Mistress?"

The language was foreign, but that was what the tone said. Had he been spotted?

The noise and laughter resumed in a burst. He had worried for nothing; apparently it had been some momen- tary girlish game, damming up the twitter only to release it all at once. He had to remember that: the words he thought he heard were homunculi, and could not be trusted.

He reached up again, found the suit, took hold of its soft material, and yanked.

It came down with a thud, the feathers rattling against the stone. This time the abrupt silence was no mistake. They had heard!

How could he have been so stupid! He should have brought the cloak down gently, a contour at a time, so that no noise could result. Now- There was a burst of chatter. Hasan lay where he was, translating the sounds with a certainty that went beyond language. "What was that noise?" "Someone is here!" "Kill him!" Should he jump up and run for it now?

No-they could easily catch him, and that would be the end. Even if he made the stairs, and slammed the door and escaped today, all would be undone when they reported to their King. Not only his own life. The lives of all his sisters, and their father too.

What could he do? Their steps were already sounding on the pavement circling the pool. He was trapped.

He could play dead! Perhaps, that way, they would at least spare the palace, thinking that a stranger had died on the roof without the knowledge of the sisters. Of course, they would quickly detect the warmth of his body ... but he was still a little sallow from his illness, and if he pretended unconsciousness, this would be all the more evidence that no one had cared for him. He hoped.

He straightened, lying p.r.o.ne on the tile-and rediscov- ered the s.p.a.ce under the bench. He rolled into the cavity without thinking.

The bricks were solid on the side facing the pool, meeting the polished stone without a c.h.i.n.k. Appearance was everything, fortunately. He was invisible again. He might yet escape, if they didn't search too carefully.

If there weren't any snakes or spiders or leeches lurking in this dust. . .

There was the slap of wet feet against dry brick, and another exclamation. "Princess-your suit is gone!" What else could they be saying?

A soprano hubbub immediately over his head. Bare toes, dainty and beautifully manicured, coming to rest inches from his face. In spite of his predicament, Hasan thrilled to the satin smoothness of that foot, the slender perfection of the ankle. This was the foot of the princess, tantalizingly close. He was strongly tempted to slide for- ward and kiss it, and to Tophet with the consequence!

His nose itched. The smell of the feathers was- He bit his tongue. The pain seemed to stave off the oncoming sneeze, for the time being.

"My cloak-it fell off the bench!" What a delightful voice belonged to that foot! Such a voice, incomprehensi- ble or not, was well fit to die for.

Tapered fingers descended, grasping the cloak. Hasan's breath stopped in his throat as he thought of the nakedness of that hand and that foot and the body connecting them. What might he glimpse if he poked his head out and looked up now? Was death too great a price to pay?

Melodious laughter. "That was all-your suit fell down!" "We were worried over nothing!" The foot withdrew, flicking a last droplet of water onto Hasan's nose, and the crisis-and opportunity-was over. They were returning to the pool.

But he still didn't have the suit. And now, he could not be sure which one was hers.

Hasan sent off a fervent prayer to Allah, reached up once more, casting about blindly upon the bench-and touched the feather-suit. She had not moved it.

He brought it down-carefully-and maneuvered his body to head in the direction of the exit. This was not easy to do without sitting up, and the magic robe enc.u.mbered him. It was light-as light as a feather-but bulky, and although he knew it was his enemy he could not bring himself to damage any part of it. This was an article of her clothing, that had once clung to her marvelous ... but nothing she had touched deserved destruction at his hands.

The return-plunge through the entrance, the anxious hesitation outside the wall-these were things he must have done, but he was never able to remember them. The worst was over. They had not discovered him, and he had the suit. If they continued bathing just a little longer. . . .

They did, and Hasan made it safely to the shelter of the stairs. It was merely a matter of time, now, before he achieved his desire.

But the suit! What was he to do with it? If he kept it here the damsels would see it, and all his exploits would be rendered meaningless. If he took it into the palace, the princess might escape during his absence.

Escape? They could do nothing in his absence that they couldn't do as readily in his presence. He must secure the feather-suit first; then he could do what he liked.

He descended the steps and carried the cloak to his chamber. He emptied the clothing from his largest chest, laid the beautiful feather-dress in the bottom, piled other things on top of it, and closed the lid and locked it.

The girls on the terrace had not missed him. He stood concealed by the stairs and waited for the inevitable.

This time the princess-actually, he supposed she was the Queen, but she seemed so young-took a walk in her delectable green dress, arranging her hair with strokes from a jeweled comb. Hasan had never imagined anything so lovely. Looking upon her n.o.ble serenity, he was sorry that it was to be so short-lived. Not for anything would he hurt this elegant creature ... but he had to capture her and tame her before he could worship her.

Midafternoon, and the group prepared to fly. Now at last the shrieks began in earnest. Hasan stayed hidden, watching as the princess beat her breast and tore her elegant raiment; but her magic plumage was gone, and she was helpless. Her handmaidens wept and searched every cranny of the pavilion and the water and sh.o.r.e and vegeta- tion around it-but as the shadows lengthened, they donned their own suits and departed.

Hasan felt a fierce sympathy for the princess, for this scene brought poignant memories of his own hour of dismay, years ago. He had been a young heir in Ba.s.sorah, and friends had congregated daily at his house to share the feasts. Then, when his carelessly-spent wealth ran out, they had deserted him-as these maidens were deserting their mistress in her hour of need. Had they stood by her, he would have been able to do nothing. They could have ransacked the palace and recovered the feather-suit. But not one of them cared to risk her life by staying the night.

Dusk, and the princess was alone. She sat naked on the wall of the pavilion, silent in her despair. Briefly she raised her head and spoke desolately to the one she must have known was listening, and once more Hasan seemed to understand. "O who has taken my dress and stripped me cruelly, I beseech you to restore it to me and cover my shame, for the night is upon me and I am alone." Then she wept.

What empathy he had with her! He could not treat her thus. He would fetch back the- She heard his motion and spread her arms as if to fly, helplessly. The time had come.

Hasan stepped out from his hiding-place and stood be- fore the damsel. "Do not be afraid of me," he said soothingly. "Daughter of majesty, I love you."

She had been beautiful in serenity and lovely in sorrow; now she was tantalizing in fright. She leapt up and ran around the pavilion, her long tresses sailing out behind. Hasan was afraid that in her desperation she might forget again that she could not fly and fling herself off the palace roof. He had to catch her immediately.

He chased her. She screamed and tried to hide behind a tree; his action was compounding her terror. How had he gotten into this? Wouldn't it have been better to let her fly in beauty, than to kill her through terror? He could still return to his chamber, bring out the suit- She plunged headlong for the edge. He leaped, reached out his hand, and caught her rich black hair. She was snared. He brought her, birdlike, to him, and circled her slim waist with his arm so that she could not escape.

She fluttered and fought, her ruby mouth open in a soundless scream, b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaving in pathetic but alluring panic. But the loss of her feather-suit had robbed her of vitality. Her struggles diminished and ceased.

Never had Hasan felt so much like an unclean swine.

Captive, she walked pa.s.sively beside him as he brought her to the stair. She was beautiful even in pathos. He hooked his hand again in her hair and kept his eyes away from her body as she preceded him down into the palace. He was ashamed, now, to look at her.

Hasan guided her to his chamber, set her on his bed, and threw a striped silken cloak over her. He left her there, weeping and biting her hands in grief. He locked the door and rushed to find Rose for further advice.

Rose met him in the hall. She was carrying his nightly meal, not realizing that this had been the day. "I've got her!" he shouted. "Now what do I do?"

Rose accepted the news with limited enthusiasm. "I was afraid it would work," she said. "Well, I'd better go talk with her. You're not good for much, right now."

She set course for Hasan's room, still bearing the tray. "What about my-" he began, hungry now.

"Go find your own," she told him sharply. "She has to eat too, you know." He retreated to a garden and plucked some fruit, feeling ashamed.

Time pa.s.sed. Night came upon the palace, and still Rose did not emerge from his chamber. Dim light shone under the door, which was locked against him. He had a key, of course, but took the hint. He put his ear to the door and listened.

Rose was talking. "... so he took the feather-suit and burned it, and waited until you were alone so that he could bring you in. He did not mean to harm you, or even to frighten you; he did all this only because he was mad with love for you. You know how these Arabs are. Otherwise he would not have pined away without eating or sleeping, all for your sake, and almost died before we found him."

A m.u.f.fled weeping was the only reply.

"Now I know you can't understand my words any more than I can understand yours, except that we both are women," Rose continued steadily. She employed the tone she would have used to soothe a wild bird. "When my sisters return, we'll see about teaching you our language. It is only the will of Allah that we are able to talk with Hasan, you know, for most of the people we know in Sind speak the dialects of the continent. But that's another story, and you don't want to hear about language and geog- raphy right now, do you. I'm going to leave you here for the night, and you'll see that no one is going to hurt you. And if you can understand anything at all that I'm saying, think about this: woman was not made except to be loved by man. Hasan isn't bright, but he is handsome and he loves you and he will make you a perfect husband. He is naive but very nice, and that is exactly the way a man should be. If you respond to him and treat him decently, he will be your slave for life-and that is more important than all your father's palaces and troops and magic. I would gladly change places with you, but Allah did not grant this thing to me. You are the one he loves, and the sooner you come to terms with this the happier you'll be. You think you're the captive, but the truth is that he is the captive. Have pity on him and give him the chance he deserves. You could have been served with more bitter fruit." Hasan tip-toed away.

The bird-maiden was subdued in the morning, and ap- peared to be resigned to her fate. Rose brought her food and talked to her and dressed her in a clean robe, and moved her into a chamber of her own so that Hasan could recover his room. This relieved his alarm lest the captive discover the feather-suit, so near at hand all night. He stayed well clear of the proceedings, dismayed that his sister should have to promote his suit, but certain that he would botch things horribly by himself.

Two days later Rose summoned him. "She's doing better now," she said, but something in her att.i.tude re- newed Hasan's feeling of guilt. "I think she knows more of our language than she pretends. It's time for you to talk to her."

"Right now?" Hasan asked, immediately bashful.

"You have to meet her sometime, Hasan." Rose took him firmly by the arm and trotted him to his room. "First I'll have to make you presentable, though. No woman would find you attractive if she saw you the way you usually hang around the palace." She covered the catch in her voice by bustling through the collection of robes they had provided him. "Put this on. And comb your hair. And clean off those sandals-here. I'll find you better ones. Go take a bath."

Hasan was changed and groomed w.i.l.l.y-nilly. "Men have no taste in clothing," Rose complained. "They'd never get married at all if it weren't for women." She led him to the bird-maiden's chamber. "Now speak softly to her, Hasan-remember, she has to be tamed. And take her a present-here, I'll get you something suitable."

"Maybe I'd better wait until tomorrow-"

He found himself before the forbidden door of the cap- tive's chamber, an attractive bouquet in his hand and utter confusion in his mind. "I can't," he whispered, shaking.

Rose paid no attention. She opened the door, pushed him inside, and slammed it behind him.

The princess reclined on a divan, so astonishingly lovely he could hardly look at her directly. She wore a light veil which only increased her allurement, and a dress of scarlet satin that set off her coal-black hair in a manner that took Hasan's breath away. Most notable was the robe she graced; it was thrown loosely over her other garments and was decorated in red gold with figures of wild beasts, and birds whose eyes and beaks were gems and whose claws were red rubies and green beryl. Her neck was embraced by a chain of great round jewels, and even her slippers sparkled richly.

Hasan stumbled across the room and held out his bou- quet. She ignored it. He was left awkwardly supporting the flowers in sweaty, trembling hands. "Princess," he be- gan, but could think of nothing more to say.

Dark lashes flickered contemptuously. How could he ever have aspired to such a woman! She was the daughter of a mighty king, while he was nothing but a merchant's son. He could not even speak in her presence without choking over his stupid tongue. He was not worthy to kiss her feet.

Kiss her feet. The vision of her bare ankle beside the pavilion bench came back to him. He had almost been ready to sacrifice his life for the privilege of a single gesture, then. Could he do less now?

Hasan dropped to his knees, put a quaking hand to her outstretched slipper, and took it off. He set the flowers aside and gently ma.s.saged the sole of her foot. Arabian women, he knew, were quickly mellowed by such treat- ment. He kissed it, and suddenly the words were undammed.

"O princess of the fairest, life of the lovely sprites and delight of all who behold you, be easy in your heart, for I come to you only in order to be your bondsman till the Day of Doom. I might have captured one of your hand- maidens, but not one of them compared to yourself in beauty and grace, and indeed there is not in all the world a fairer maiden than you.