When they set out upon the plateau at dusk, the woman was silent. She had been that way since their rest at the second oasis—over eight hours ago now—and Tahar had the vague notion that he was being punished. He should have known better than to provoke her as he had. She was a woman, after all, with a woman’s sensitivities, and he was quite clearly in control. There had been no need to remind her that soon she would be warming some rich man’s bed.
It occurred to Tahar that the rich man would be a lucky man indeed. Tahar did not know him, and already he envied him.
Tahar led the donkey onward into the twilight.
The sun dipped below the horizon and cast its pink and yellow spell upon the sky. She observed the spectacle of colour with mutiny in her eyes. ‘How long until we reach Abu?’ she asked at last.
‘We’ve yet many days,’ said Tahar.
Soon the stars began to sparkle above them and the heat of the day lifted mercifully. Still the woman seemed restless. She adjusted herself upon the saddle, apparently unable to find a comfortable position.
‘May I lead the horse for a time?’ she asked. ‘I wish to stretch my legs.’
He did not answer her request immediately. ‘Hem,’ he said. ‘Let me think on it.’
Of course he would let her lead the horse. What a welcome request.
Yes, my lovely. Take the horse. Stretch your shapely legs and feel the crunch of dirt beneath your feet. Let me rest and contemplate your gait, the swish of your hips, the long muscles of your legs.
After a long pause, Tahar gave his assent. ‘On one condition,’ he said. ‘You must admit that you do not come from a family of farmers in Abydos.’
‘Fine, I admit it.’
She admitted it? No headstrong resistance? No fiery debate? Tahar felt strangely disheartened. So where do you come from? he wished to ask now. But that had not been part of the bargain.
Obligingly, he helped her off the horse, and soon she was guiding it across the empty plain with him upon its back.
‘Your hair grows,’ he ventured. ‘It is as new shoots in an empty field.’
She said nothing.
‘Your arm heals.’
Nothing.
‘Your gait is strong. There is no memory of the snakebite in it.’
Finally, she spoke. ‘You observe me as if I were a newborn calf or a recently grafted vine.’
‘What more can I do but observe if you will not converse?’
‘I do not converse because I do not have anything to say to one who keeps me as a slave.’
‘If you have not noticed, I feed you and protect you.’
‘Like a fine cow.’
‘I tend to your wounds. I prepare you not for slavery but for marriage.’
‘Marriage, slavery—they are the same.’
‘Isn’t marriage what every woman desires?’ Tahar asked, disbelieving. ‘To bear children? To enjoy the love and protection of a husband? To be provided for?’
The woman turned and continued walking. ‘Not every woman.’
‘Indeed? Then what is it exactly that you desire?’
The woman did not speak. Instead she shook her head and began walking more rapidly.
‘You cannot answer my question?’ Tahar pressed. ‘If you cannot express your desire, then you do not deserve to have it fulfilled.’
The woman stopped in her tracks. She turned to look at Tahar, and even in the low light he could see the magical flicker of her dark eyes.
‘Desire? What do I desire? I don’t have the luxury of desire,’ she said, ‘unless you consider the desire for a belly full of food—enough to get me through the day. You pretend that you are offering me a better life, but you are not. You are using me to obtain a better life for yourself. What do I desire? I desire to be free of you, or anyone who would use me as a possession. I desire freedom. So, handsome trader from beyond the Big Green, will you fulfil my desire? Do I deserve it?’
Before Tahar could respond the woman had turned her back to him and resumed her march across the empty plain. He was left sitting lamely upon the saddle, his head spinning. He had hoped for a trickle of conversation; instead he’d got a flood of words.
If he had been attending to them closely he might have heard how thoroughly she mistrusted men. He might have discerned her desire for food—the kind of desire only felt by one who regularly went without it. If he had been truly observant, as he normally was, he might even have become discouraged, for her longing for freedom was as clear and certain as his own.
But he did not ponder any of that, for all he could think about in that moment was a single word.
Handsome. She thinks that I am handsome.