Daughter of Nomads (10 page)

15

Naran Kingdom of Kaghan

T
he next morning, Jahani was returning from the leopard enclosure when she noticed Azhar and Zarah in the courtyard. Their faces were flushed as if they were arguing. But, as she walked past them toward the house, they fell quiet. Inside, she found Hafeezah in Jahani's room sorting her new clothes from Zarah. Hafeezah looked up as Jahani slumped onto the charpai.

‘How are you feeling today?' Hafeezah asked. ‘How is your arm?'

Jahani pursed her lips. ‘My arm's fine but Bapa Baqir's news is a shock. I never thought I would marry.' She looked apologetically at Hafeezah. ‘I mean, I didn't think it was possible.'

Hafeezah folded a qameez. ‘It is true I could never have arranged this for you, but it also wasn't my place.'

Jahani regarded her, sad to have upset her. ‘I realise that now. It's just … so soon.' There, she had said it. ‘We haven't been here a week.' She couldn't shake the unwelcome thought that Baqir wanted to be rid of her.

‘Your father wishes to have it formalised quickly.' Hafeezah put the pile of folded clothes in a trunk. ‘The darzi is coming tomorrow with cloth for you to consider for wedding outfits. He will have some ready-made clothes as well.'

‘Tomorrow?' Jahani sat up straighter.

Hafeezah inclined her head. ‘The shoe walla will also come, and the jeweller. Soon the barbers will arrive to discuss a menu with Zarah.'

‘Bapa Baqir didn't say much about the groom. Is he young, is he old, will he be kind?'

Hafeezah didn't make eye contact with her. ‘You'll be able to see for yourself. In a few days the bridegroom and his men will play polo on the field above the stables with your father and his troop … and Azhar.'

‘Azhar?'

Hafeezah shrugged. ‘He is like an honorary brother to you, and there is no one else to help entertain the groom. After polo, the groom will visit the house for chai and you will see him from behind a screen.'

Jahani had never seen a polo match. She knew it involved horses, a stick and a ball, since ‘polo' was the Persian word for ball.

Hafeezah said, ‘In the Kingdom of Chitral they use a goat's head instead of a ball to play polo. Sometimes a whole goat.'

Jahani looked at her in horror. ‘How barbaric.'

Hafeezah inclined her head, but said, ‘It is a custom they are used to there.'

There was so much to take in and consider, but Jahani was stuck on the thought of Azhar as her brother. She had never thought of him in this way.

Later that day, Azhar found Jahani with the leopards. He stood frowning as he watched her playing with Yazan. Jahani had never seen him in such a mood. She longed for the comradeship they had shared on their trek to Naran. She flushed, mortified when she remembered she hadn't appreciated him. But she did now. Though now her life had become complicated.

‘Why are you so upset about the wedding?' she asked.

His frown didn't shift. ‘You weren't asked, and I don't know why Baqir would do this when you have only just arrived. He hadn't even met you again when he made this arrangement.'

Jahani felt a heaviness invade her heart. She had thought her father would be so happy to see her that he would want to spend time with her, maybe even give a party. She'd never envisioned a wedding.

His words made her think disloyal thoughts and, before she could stop herself, she said, ‘It's not your concern, Azhar. I will speak to Ammi about it.'

She was aware of Azhar watching her as she cuddled Yazan. When she finally looked up, Azhar was walking away and she sighed. She had only just found her parents and now she would be leaving them again, before she got to know them properly. Azhar was right, it didn't seem proper.

In the afternoon, Zarah invited Jahani to take chai with her in the divan room. Once they were settled Jahani could not hold back her questions. ‘Zarah jan, do you think the wedding is happening too quickly? Could it be delayed until I get used to the idea? Have you met the groom?' Once she'd started it was difficult to stop.

Zarah frowned as she answered, ‘Beti, your father has decided and that is the way things are done. You have lived so long with no man to tell you what to do – that is why it feels strange.'

‘This Muzahid, is he young or old?' Jahani blurted.

‘Do not worry. Your father would have chosen the best for you.' Her lips tightened and Jahani assumed that Zarah had not met him either. Otherwise, why not talk about him?

Hafeezah passed the room and saw them on the divan together.

‘Join us,' Zarah said.

Hafeezah paused at the door and sniffed as if tears were close. It must be heartbreaking to bring up a child and hand her to another woman.

‘Please sit by me, Ammi.' Then she noticed a sudden pallor on Zarah's face. How could she please these two women who were both important in her life?

Zarah drank her chai, then said, ‘Before the wedding there are many interesting things for you to do – clothes to choose, shoes to try, jewellery. Your father has spared no expense.'

Jahani looked at her sharply. Zarah's tone had sounded quite sarcastic.

The following morning, Hafeezah woke Jahani for the clothes and shoe fittings. The sellers brought everything to the courtyard in trunks. She should have been happy – what girl wouldn't have loved this attention? But she couldn't find any joy within her.

It was Zarah and Hafeezah who chose everything for Jahani. She had never tried on such fine clothes before and couldn't have chosen even if she were asked. Anjuli came to watch and so did the servant girls until Zarah sent them back to the kitchen. The jeweller came while Jahani was trying on a red-and-gold wedding outfit in her room. She walked out into the courtyard for Zarah and Hafeezah to see.

Anjuli gasped. ‘You look like my sister when she was married.'

Hafeezah had tears in her eyes. ‘You look so beautiful.'

Zarah paused, then said, ‘Oh, my beti, so lovely, but I wish we had you longer.' She bit her lip as if she shouldn't have spoken. Hafeezah took her hand and Zarah composed herself. She beckoned to Jahani. ‘Here, try this necklace.'

The jeweller spent an hour happily trying his wares on Jahani. But he was the only one smiling. Zarah and Hafeezah haggled, but Jahani could tell there was no fun in the game for them.

16

Naran Kingdom of Kaghan Two Weeks before Third Moon of Summer

F
inally the day arrived when Jahani would see her groom Muzahid Baig. The polo game would show her what sort of man he was. After this week, she would stay inside for the wedding festivities.

Zarah spoke to her as they ascended the steps to the roof of the fort where they would view the game. ‘Beti, you must keep your face veiled. We do not want the groom to see you too soon.'

Jahani thought he must have very good eyesight to notice her face from the polo ground, but she tilted her head politely.

On the roof was a charpai covered in a quilt for them to sit on and a table laid with a tray of green tea, vegetable pakoras and sweet carrot barfi. Jahani sighed with pleasure as she took in the surrounding mountains. Clouds hung in the distance over the western Hindu Qush; the Hemallehs stood like giants to the east; and to the north were the Qurraqorams – the mountains she yearned for.

Jahani sank onto the charpai. Now that she looked back on it, she'd enjoyed travelling on horseback to Naran. She would love to travel again and see the higher mountains where Hafeezah was born. Would Muzahid travel there and take her with him? She bit her lip. He may leave her at home. She hoped she'd be able to keep Chandi and Yazan, but what if her groom disapproved of ladies riding; or didn't like leopards?

‘Look!' Anjuli pointed to the field.

Baqir's troops and Muzahid's men trotted out from the stables, the flags of Kaghan and Skardu fluttering at the helm. The mounted horsemen broke into two groups and lined both sides of the field. Jahani could make out Baqir riding in front and Azhar riding Chandi slightly behind him. Why wasn't he riding Rakhsh? She stared for a moment in shock to see him on her horse before looking at the horsemen on the opposite side; the man riding in front must be Muzahid.

One thing she now knew about her groom: he was not as old as her father. Muzahid sat on his horse like a younger man, though he was possibly ten summers older than Azhar.

‘A game of kings,' Zarah said with delight, ‘and of power and grace.'

Proceedings commenced with beating drums. The musicians sat on a platform near the sidelines. It made Jahani think of kings and elephants – not that she'd seen either. But it was strange how the music stirred emotions deep inside her, as if she had heard it before. She caught her breath as her heart skipped a beat. She was growing far too fanciful.

‘I suppose you've never seen a polo game in Sherwan, but it has always been played in these northern kingdoms, especially further north in Skardu and Gilit,' Zarah was saying.

‘Is Muzahid's family from the Kingdom of Skardu?' Jahani asked.

‘Perhaps so,' Zarah answered. It was frustrating how little Zarah knew of him.

The game began with a rush: the horses raced, parried, stopped, then turned swiftly as if they had wings.

Anjuli shouted, ‘Azhar! Azhar!', until Hafeezah asked her to shush.

Muzahid swung for the ball, but ended up swinging at Azhar instead. Chandi skipped sideways, missing the blow, just as she had in the forest. Jahani stood to watch, holding her breath. It was as if Azhar and Chandi were one, dipping, sidestepping, stopping suddenly, twisting with ease as they danced between horsemen in pursuit of the ball. Azhar's wound didn't seem to be bothering him.

Suddenly she was yanked down to the charpai. ‘What are you doing?' Zarah hissed. ‘It is not seemly to gawk at the groom.' Then she added, ‘Though he does cut a smart figure on his stallion.'

Guiltily, Jahani realised she had only glanced at the groom because she'd been captivated by Azhar.

She watched the game again being careful not to stare, but an idea was forming in her mind. Chandi was acting as she had in the forest; she was the fastest and nimblest horse on the field. Muzahid's mount was a Marwari like Rakhsh, fit for a prince, but it wasn't as well-trained as Chandi.

Warhorse.

Then she tensed. Azhar was close to the goal posts, ready to hit the ball, but Muzahid was hurtling toward him.

‘Bey ya!' she shouted in Burushaski before she could stop herself.

She earned frowns from the older women, especially Hafeezah. Then they all watched, mesmerised, as Muzahid struck out with his stick – not at the ball – but at Azhar!

Azhar's arm was bent, ready to strike the ball and he didn't see the blow coming. But Chandi did. She reared, then galloped around Muzahid, and Azhar hit the ball between the goal posts. The beating drums rose to a crescendo, and Baqir's men cheered. The game was over but Jahani felt nauseous. Muzahid's actions were more in line with a warrior attacking an enemy, not a groom playing a game to impress his bride.

She wanted to see Azhar, but there was no time to visit the stables, especially when so many men were about. Besides, Zarah took them straight to the divan room where a bamboo screen was set up opposite the divans. She indicated three chairs behind it. ‘You must sit behind this screen like the Mughal ladies do at the court in Delhi. Muzahid will not be able to see you, but you will see him.'

Anjuli giggled. ‘We'll be able to see if he is handsome.'

Jahani looked at Anjuli's sparkling eyes and wished she could feel the same excitement.

Before the men arrived, one of the servants brought in a samovar of chai and placed it with cups and a tray of walnuts, apricots and carrot halva on a low table in front of the divans.

Jahani peered through the screen and contemplated the samovar, the steam rising from the opening at the top. When she was younger, Jahani had thought she would be happy like Sameela if she had the opportunity to wed. But Sameela had seen her betrothed long before they were to be married and they had been allowed to write letters. Sameela had discovered he had a gentle hound; he read the poetry of Rumi and Hafiz and copied verses from them in his letters. Sameela even knew his favourite dishes and was learning to cook them, and her parents knew his parents socially. Did Baqir know Muzahid's father and what he was like?

Then there was the night of the wedding. Sameela had told her what her mother had said to do. Sameela had been looking forward to it, but Jahani wasn't. And she couldn't imagine asking Hafeezah or Zarah for advice.

Just then Baqir and Azhar showed Muzahid into the room and there seemed little space left. Muzahid was as tall and muscular as Azhar. But there the similarities ceased. Muzahid's black beard was trimmed, his dark eyes were piercing and his face had angles that made him look cruel.

‘Drink chai with us,' Baqir said. ‘You played well, beta.' There was a silence after the word ‘beta' and Jahani realised Baqir would have a son after the wedding. She had longed for a father for many summers; maybe her father had longed for a son. Only she could grant him that wish.

Zarah poured tea for the men and took three cups behind the screen for Jahani, Hafeezah and Anjuli. Anjuli's eyes shone. This was obviously an adventure for her.

‘You played well also.' Muzahid's voice was not smooth like Baqir's; he was a man who was a warrior.

‘And you too, Azhar.' Muzahid inclined his head in Azhar's direction in an attempt at politeness.

It didn't fool Jahani. She could tell he would be able to protect her – if it was needed, she reflected with annoyance – but she would have to live the way he wanted.

‘I am impressed with the mare you were riding.' Muzahid raised an eyebrow at Azhar. ‘I will buy her. Name your price.'

Jahani barely managed to stop an audible gasp. He hadn't even asked!

Azhar replied, ‘She is the mount of the missahiba.'

‘Ah.' Muzahid said it as if Chandi was his already. Then he gave Azhar a searching look. ‘And what is your relationship to the bride?'

‘He is as a brother to the bride,' Baqir said quickly. ‘I never had a son, but Azhar and my daughter played together as children. He is older and looked after Jahani well. His father was my master of horse, and friend.' He glanced at Azhar before continuing. ‘But now you will be my true son, Muzahid.'

Muzahid's gaze narrowed before he slurped his chai. ‘I see. But now they are too old to be in each other's company, gallivanting in fields like children. She has too much freedom.'

Azhar made a sudden movement, but Baqir raised his hand slightly.

Jahani stiffened. Muzahid knew about their outing to the flower fields. He must have someone watching her! Unless her father's men had reported it to Muzahid.

Baqir gave a short laugh but it sounded strained. ‘Rest easy. Azhar is her personal guard and brought her safely home. He is trustworthy.'

Jahani saw the colour rise in Azhar's cheeks. She frowned. Was it true she'd had too much freedom? She hadn't thought she was free at all in Sherwan, yet Sameela always had to double think what her father would say before she acted. Hafeezah had kept a tight watch on Jahani but that was to ensure her safety, which was why this marriage was arranged.

‘That you'd risk your only daughter's honour and that of your family's?' continued Muzahid.

‘I trust him with my life and with hers.' There was an edge to Baqir's tone this time and Muzahid dropped the subject.

Azhar glanced at the screen with a frown.

His look confirmed to Jahani that they knew she was there. How unseemly for Muzahid to raise such a delicate subject within her hearing. It was a warning, she realised. Jahani gasped and her cup rattled on the tray as she set it down.

Hafeezah laid a warning hand on Jahani's arm, but Muzahid had heard. He turned his head toward the screen. His lip curled in what was possibly meant as a smile, but to Jahani was a leer. In that moment she knew he wasn't a man who would be thoughtful of her needs or read her poetry like Sameela's betrothed.