Fortune's Stroke

Rukaiya hesitated, groping for words. "I have always known, of course, that someday I would be married and have to leave for another man's house. And there is a part of me that looks forward to that day. But not—" She sighed unhappily. "Not so soon."

Her next words came out in a rush. The girl's face was full of life, now, and her hands gestured with animation.

"I don't know what I would do, in another man's house. I am so afraid of being bored. Especially if my husband was a severe man. Most husbands are very strict with their wives. Since I was ten years old, my father has let me help him with his work. He is one of Mecca's richest merchants, and he has many caravans. I keep track of most of his accounts, and I write almost all his letters, and—"

Antonina's jaw dropped. She didn't think there were more than two dozen women in all of Arabia—and they were invariably middle-aged widows—

"You can read?" she demanded.

Rukaiya's own jaw clamped shut. For an instant, her young face reminded Antonina of a mule. A beautiful mule, true, but just as stubborn and willful.

The expression was fleeting, however. Rukaiya lowered her head. Her quick-moving hands, once again, were demurely clasped in her lap.

"My father taught me," she said softly. "He insists that all women in his family must know how to read. He says that's because they might be widows, someday, and have to manage their husbands' affairs."

Again, the words started coming in a rush. "But I think he just says that to placate my mother. She doesn't like to read. Neither do my sisters. They say it's too hard. But I love to read, and so does my father. We have had so many wonderful evenings, talking about the things we have read in books. My father owns many books. He collects them. My mother complains because it's so expensive, but that's the one subject on which my father lays down the law in our house. Most of our books are Greek, of course, but we even have—"

She stopped talking, then, interrupted by Antonina's laughter. The laughter went on for quite a while. By the time Antonina finally stopped, wiping tears from her eyes, Rukaiya's expression of shock had faded into simple curiosity.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

Antonina shook her head. "The negusa nagast of Ethiopia is one of the world's champion bibliophiles. His father, King Kaleb, amassed the largest library south of Alexandria in his palace at Axum. In all honesty, I don't think Kaleb himself actually read any of those books. But by the time Prince Eon was fifteen, he had read all of them. I remember, when he came to Rome, how many hours he spent with my friend Irene Macrembolitissa—she is the world's greatest bibliophile—"

Antonina fell silent, staring at the girl across from her. Again, tears welled up in her eyes, as she remembered a friend she thought she would never see again.

Oh God, child, how much you remind me of Irene.

Memory made the decision. Memory of another woman—intelligent, quick-witted, active—whose own life had been frustrated, so many times, by the world's expectations.

Fuck it. We have souls, too.

"You will be happy, Rukaiya," predicted Antonina. "And you will never, I promise you, be bored." Again, she wiped away tears; and, again, laughed.

"Not as that man's wife! Oh, no. You'll be keeping track of the King of King's accounts, Rukaiya, and writing his letters. He's building an empire and he's at war with the greatest power in the world. Soon enough, I think, you'll find yourself longing for a bit of tedium."

Finally, finally, the face across from her was nothing but that of a young girl. A virgin, barely sixteen years of age. Shy, anxious, uncertain, apprehensive, eager, curious—and, of course, more than a little avid.

"Is he—? Will he—?" Rukaiya fumbled, and fumbled.

"Yes, he will like you. Yes, he will be kind. And, yes, he will give you great pleasure."

Antonina rose and walked over. She took Rukaiya's face in her hands and fixed the girl's eyes with her own.

"Trust me, child. I know King Eon very well. Put aside all doubts and fears. You will enjoy being a woman."

Rukaiya was beaming happily, now. Just like a bride.

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Framed

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Chapter 21

Garmat did not beam happily, when he first saw Rukaiya.

"She's too skinny," he complained. Standing in his place of honor on the lower steps of the palace entrance, he turned his head and hissed in her ear: "What were you thinking, Antonina?"

Antonina's humor was a bit frayed, because of the heat. Standing under the bare sun of southern Arabia, wearing the heavy robes of imperial formality, was not enjoyable. So, for an instant, the decorum of a Roman official was replaced by the response of a girl raised on the rough streets of Alexandria.

"Piss on you, old fart," she hissed back. Then, remembering her duty, Antonina relented.