“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.
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.
“I checked the family history, Garmat. All the women are slender, but none of them have had problems with it. Rukaiya’s mother—”
There followed a little history lesson. Not so little, rather. Antonina had expected the issue to arise, so she had supplemented Rukaiya’s own account with a more thorough investigation. Happily, the girl had not been sugar-coating the truth. For as many generations as clan memory went—which, typical of Arab tribesmen, was a long way back—only two women in that line had died in childbirth. That was better than average, for the day.
Her history lesson concluded, with all the solemnity of a Roman official, the Alexandria street urchin returned.
“So piss on you from a dizzy height, old fart.”
“Well said,” came Ousanas’ whisper. The former dawazz—he still had no official title—was standing right behind them, on a higher step.
Antonina cocked her head a quarter turn. “You’re not worried?” she whispered over her shoulder. Sourly: “I expected every man within fifty miles to be crabbing at me about it.”
Ousanas’ gleaming grin made a brief appearance. “Such nonsense. It comes from too much exposure to civilization and its decadent ways. My own folk, proper barbarians, never fret over the matter. Women drop babies in the fields, just like elands and lions.”
Garmat, still tight-faced, began to mutter again. He was giving his own lecture, now, on natural history. Explaining, to a bird-brained Roman woman and an ignorant Bantu savage, the difference between passing a large human skull through a narrow pelvic passage and the effortless ease with which mindless animals—