“Thank you.” She reached for a goblet. The wine glowed on her tongue. Drink and food, those were comforts too. They had not lost their savor as she aged, nor had she become fat.
“You should not thank me.” He looked away. “It is my duty to provide for your well-being.”
“You have been a dutiful son.”
“I have tried my best.” In a rush, never meeting her gaze: “You, though, you are unhappy with us. True? I am not blind or deaf so far, not quite. You seldom if ever complain, but I cannot help knowing.”
She commanded her body to be still, her voice to be level: “True. No fault of yours, nor of anyone else.” She must force herself to hurt him. “I daresay you feel you are a young man trapped in flesh growing old. Well, I am an old woman trapped in flesh that stays young. Why this is, only God knows.”
He twined fingers together. “You are—how old? Threescore and ten? Well, some people do carry their years well and reach great ages. If you lived for a hundred years in good health, it would not be unheard of. May God grant you do so.” She marked how he evaded mention of the fact that except for teeth showing wear she bore no trace of the time that had passed.
Let her encourage him to say what he intended to say. “You will understand how my uselessness makes me restless.”
“It need not!” burst from him. He lifted his eyes. She saw sweat on his skin. “Hark. Zabdas, a respectable man, a merchant, has asked for your hand in marriage.”
I knew this, she thought; and aloud: “I know whom you speak of,” She said naught about the cautious inquiries she had contrived to make. “But he and I met just a single time.”
“He has queried people about you, and talked repeatedly with me, and— He is, I say, an honorable man, well off and with excellent prospects for the future, a widower in need of a wife. He realizes that you are older than him, but feels this is no barrier. He has children grown, grandchildren coming, what he wants is a helpmate. Believe me, I have made sure of this.”
“Do you wish the union, Hairan?” Aliyat asked quietly.
She sipped while he stuttered, fumbled with his goblet, looked to and fro, before he said, “I would never compel you, mother. It simply appears to me … it may be in your best interests. I will not deny, he offers certain business agreements that would … help. My enterprise has fallen on hard times.”
“I know.” He showed surprise. Aliyat whetted her tone: “Did you think me blind or deaf? I worked closely with your father, Hairan, as you never let me work with you.”
“I—mother, I did not mean—”
She laughed a little. “Oh, you have been as kindly as you know how. Let us put such things behind us. Tell me more.”
THE WEDDING and the celebration that followed were an occasion small, almost subdued. Finally the bride was escorted to the groom’s bedchamber and left with a maidservant.
The room was not large, its walls merely whitewashed, its furnishings austere. Some garlands had been hung around it. A screen blocked off one comer. A three-branched candelabrum gave light. Laid across the bed were two nightgowns.
Aliyat knew she was expected to change into hers. Mutely, she let the attendant help her. She and Barikai had frolicked naked, with wicks burning bright. Well, times changed, or perhaps it was people who differed. She had been too long cut off from gossip to say.
When she stood briefly unclad, Zabdas’ slave cried: “But my lady is beautiful!”
Aliyat stroked hands down her flanks. The touch tingled. She barely stopped short of her groin. Tonight she would again know the true pleasure that had haunted her for— how many years? She smiled. “Thank you.”
“I, I heard you were old,” the girl stammered.
“I am.” Aliyat’s manner imposed fear and silence.
She had an hour or two by herself in bed. Thoughts tumbled through her head, out of control. Now and then she shivered. At least her days in the house of her son had been predictable. That, though, was what had become the horror of them.