The Pearl that Broke Its Shell (39 page)

“With all due respect, Ghafoor-
jan,
” Karim said facetiously, “since you have always been in charge of our troupe, this does not seem to be something you can delegate out like a night shift. Neither one of us would dare infringe on your responsibilities.”

“Nor us,” Tariq said, glancing at Shekib. She, too, felt the need to pair up with someone.

Ghafoor huffed. “Fine. Fine! Cowards. I’ll go and speak to them myself.” Her eyes betrayed her confidence. She paced the foyer for ten minutes before putting her hand on the doorknob.

Karim had her ear to the door, trying to listen in, but the voices in the courtyard were hushed. The guards looked at each other, paced and sighed frequently. Eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and conflict. When Karim cracked the door open ten minutes later, the courtyard was empty. They had taken Ghafoor to the palace.

An hour passed, painfully, before Ghafoor reappeared. Qasim and Karim had fallen asleep leaning against the foyer wall. Tariq sat near the door as if ready to make a quick escape. She tapped her foot nervously. Her eyelids were heavy and dark. Shekib sat against the wall opposite the sisters, her stomach uneasy. A house under stress had never boded well for her. She had no reason to believe she would emerge from this unscathed.

Ghafoor looked about nervously and took stock of the situation.

“How is Fatima?” she asked quietly, her eyes shifting around the room, hesitant to land on anyone in particular.

“She’s a little better. She’s had some tea with sugar and was talking for a bit. Now she’s fallen asleep. Dr. Behrowen left a few minutes ago. You probably passed her on the way here,” Tariq said, her voice as exhausted as her eyes.

“Good.”

“Aren’t you going to tell us what happened?” Karim asked impatiently.

“I spoke with the men outside and they took me back to Agha Ferooz, our king’s most trusted adviser. They did not want to disturb the king himself. I explained the situation and they are, of course, very upset. They notified the king.”

“And? What will happen now?” Qasim asked.

“He is angry. He wishes to speak with Shekib.”

Shekib was not in the least surprised.

“What is that they want to speak to me about?” Her tone was measured, even. It made Ghafoor nervous. She looked at the others while Shekib saw through her act.

She’s done something.

“How should I know?” she said defiantly. “They asked me who was on night duty tonight and I gave them an answer. I had better check on Khanum Fatima. There’s a soldier waiting outside, Shekib. He’ll escort you to the palace. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”

Shekib was sure that it was.

But she said nothing, staring at the back of Ghafoor’s bobbing head as she scampered down the hall, putting distance between them as quickly as she could.

The others watched her leave and then turned to Shekib. She said nothing but rose and walked to the door. As Ghafoor had promised, outside stood a soldier. A baby’s face in a man’s uniform. He looked nervous in the brisk dawn air. He motioned for her to follow, turning back once to steal a glance at her face.

He walked her to the palace’s heavy front doors, intricately carved and oddly inviting even at this moment. He opened the door and led her in, down one long hallway with ornate patterns on the walls, gilded pedestal tables and richly embroidered chairs. Shekib noticed her surroundings with vague interest.

“In this room,” he announced, and cracked the door open enough for her to enter. He stayed back and looked thankful that his duties ended there.

Shekib entered, remembering to keep her back straight and her eyes focused. Weariness was blurring her judgment as well as her vision.

In the room, King Habibullah paced behind a handsome wood-carved desk, his fingers pulling at the fringes of his beard. Two men sat anxiously in armchairs to his left, opposites of each other. One was heavyset and short, the other tall and lanky. Had Shekib been less nervous, she might have noticed how ridiculous they looked as a pair. They looked up at Shekib, their lips tightening.

“You!” King Habibullah called out. He had stopped pacing abruptly, his blue
chappan
flapping as he whirled to a stop.

“
As-salaam-alaikum,
Your Highness,” she said in a hush, keeping her head bowed and her eyes downcast.

“
As-salaam-alaikum,
eh? As if nothing has happened? Do you know the meaning of the words, you idiot?”

“I apologize, esteemed sir. I meant no disrespect—”

“Don’t patronize me, guard! You are here to answer questions, to speak up for your actions—or inaction, as it appears! It was you who was on guard tonight, when a man somehow managed to evade your attention and enter
my
harem!”

A conversation began to take shape in Shekib’s mind. She could imagine Ghafoor standing in this very room, not too long ago, painting a picture of an idle guard, passively allowing a man to violate the king’s sanctuary, to indulge in his private stock of women.

“Dear king, I was on guard tonight but I saw no one enter.”

“You saw no one enter? But someone did enter, didn’t he!” His face was the color of the carpets on the floor. A blue vein pulsed across his forehead like a lightning bolt. He fell into his chair and looked at his two counselors expectantly.

“Guard, did you see someone leave the harem tonight?” The thinner man rose to his feet and spoke up.

Shekib did not have much time to consider her answer. “No, sir.”

“And you saw no one enter?”

“No, sir.”

“Are these the kinds of guards we have for my harem!” The king exploded, his fist rattling the table with a thunderous clap. “We might as well have brought donkeys!”

“Guard, explain to our dear king what happened tonight. Was there a man in the harem?” the lanky man demanded.

Shekib searched for the right answer, her hands trembling at her sides. She was afraid to move. They took turns shouting questions at her.

“Answer!”

“I… I did not see—”

“Don’t tell us what you did not see! Tell us what happened!”

“Tonight we found a hat in one of the chambers.” Shekib was not sure how to phrase such a finding. It was a sensitive matter and the wrong words could be dangerous. They were waiting for her to continue. “There was no one there but the hat… the hat suggested that someone… a person had been there. We asked but—”

“Whose chambers were you in?” the king asked, his eyes slits. He spoke slowly and precisely.

“We were in Khanum… Khanum Benafsha’s chambers,” she answered, her eyes cemented to the marble floor. Benafsha had shamed the palace with her iniquity but Shekib still felt reluctant to expose her. She pictured Benafsha back at the harem, prostrated, her face wet with misery.

Why did you do this? Why did you bring this upon us?

“Benafsha.” Habibullah turned his back and faced the window. Heavy burgundy drapes framed his silhouette. “That vixen.”

“Have you seen anyone before? Coming in and out of the harem?”

What did you tell them, Ghafoor?

“I… I have not.”

“This was the first time you learned of this?”

“Yes, sir.”

Three men brooded. Shekib could hear their measured breaths.

“You. You believe this happened once?”

“I… I… believe so.”

“And who was it guarding the harem tonight?”

“I was, sir.”

“You are a liar. We have heard differently. Ghafoor has already told us that you saw this man before! And you kept it from everyone until tonight!” the short man shouted.

“With respect,
agha-sahib,
I had not seen—”

“Liar!”

Ghafoor, you scoundrel! You fed me to the lions!

It was clear now. Her word against Ghafoor’s, and they were taking Ghafoor’s. Shekib was not a bystander. She was a guilty party.

“Did you know of Benafsha’s activities? Did she ask you to cover up for her?”

“No, sir! I had no—”

“What about the man? Who is he? Did he bribe you?”

“Please, dearest king, I had nothing to do—”

He barely heard anything she said. He was more interested in how this made him look.

“Know this, guard! An offense this grave does not go unpunished. My name has been besmirched. One look at your face and it is obvious you are damned! Have her locked up! And Benafsha too! We’ll make swift examples of them both.”

CHAPTER 42

“W
hy did you have to do such a thing?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

The room was dark and smelled of rotted meat. The stench reminded Shekib of cholera, of mourning and loneliness.

Benafsha’s face had changed. Shekib was struck by the difference. Just eight hours ago, she had been the most striking woman in the harem. How quickly her face had grayed! Her hair was stringy and her green eyes looked defeated and bloodshot.

One of the king’s most prized concubines. A life of luxury by any standards. The choicest foods, clothes. What had driven her to take all these for granted?

An hour passed in silence. Shekib wanted to ask her about Agha Baraan. She was sure it was him. The hat. The rose petal. But why? He was Amanullah’s friend. Why would a man like him commit such an act against his friend’s family, especially when his father was the most powerful man in Afghanistan?

“I am sorry you are here.”

Shekib looked up. “So am I.”

She thought of Amanullah. What would he think when he heard of the night’s events? How disappointed he would be in her! She wasn’t much of a guard, according to the palace. What made her think she could be much of a wife? Benafsha had ruined everything. She looked at the girl with disgust and pity. Then there was Ghafoor, that split-tongued viper. She had set Shekib up, saving herself. No wonder she had run off. Coward.

The dank room was unfamiliar but the rest of the experience was not. Angry fingers had often pointed at Shekiba.

On the king’s orders, Shekib had been led away—through the hallways, through the kitchen and into the small room where the cooks once kept cured meats and vegetables. The room smelled of flesh and earth. Shekib closed her eyes and imagined her father’s house. Her mind floated to those bare walls, her brother’s shirt thrown across a chair as if he would run through the door looking for it. Her sister’s amulet on the table. Her father, sitting in the corner clicking the beads of his
tasbeh
while he stared through the window onto fallow fields, a fallow home.

Shekib stood up and began to pace. The walls were tight but light crept in, framing the door with a yellow glow. The palace had electricity courtesy of a foreign company commissioned by the king. All of Afghanistan twinkled by lanterns but the palace shone, a beacon for the rest of the country.

The king must have his way. How much it must burn him that another man has had his way with his precious Benafsha. She’s pretty, I suppose. If she doesn’t show her teeth when she smiles. All pushed together, her teeth look like chickens climbing over one another in a crowded coop.

Benafsha had her head between her knees. Shekib couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep.

“What do you think they’re going to do with us?” Shekib asked quietly.

Benafsha shoulders lifted and fell with a deep breath.

“How long do you think we’ll have to be in here?”

Benafsha looked up. Her eyes were flat with resignation. “You really don’t know?”

Shekib shook her head.

“When the crime is adultery, the punishment is
sangsaar
. I will be stoned.”

CHAPTER 43

T
he large auditorium, a room larger than any I’d ever seen, held hundreds of parliamentarians. Their chairs were arranged in rows that went from one side of the room to the other, leather chairs behind a row of desks. Each member had a microphone and a bottle of water.

Badriya’s and mine sat in the center of the room, sharing our row with Hamida and Sufia. In the front of the room sat a man with a neatly trimmed mustache and salt-and-pepper hair. He listened, nodding his head from time to time.