They rode on the next day and the next. The land began to rise as they neared the mountains, which rose starkly in front of them like a painted theatre backdrop. They passed several small communities based round the oases. The houses were ochre-coloured, built into the rocks to which they clung precariously, like small children to a mother’s side. As the caravan passed, the people threw themselves to their knees. Women abandoned their laundry, men stopped their tilling of the narrow strips of cultivated land, little children rushed excitedly towards the beautiful white camels, only to be pulled back by mortified mothers. Jamil nodded his acknowledgement, but made no move to stop. Looking back over her shoulder, Cassie caught a group of women staring and pointing at her, though they immediately dropped their gaze when they saw they had been spotted.
It was the same in the next village and the next, each one larger than the last, eventually joining up into a string of settlements linked by vibrant irrigated fields, before finally the walls of the city of Daar came into view. The scent of damp soil and ripe vegetation replaced the dry dusty smells of the desert. On the steep approach to the gate where the water from the main oasis had been channelled, the dates were being harvested from the palms that grew along the banks. Huge woven baskets sat under the trees, waiting to be filled and ferried into the city by a train of mules. Cassie watched in astonishment as the pickers shimmied down the trunks of the trees at a terrifying rate, to make obeisance to their returning prince.
She had fallen behind Jamil. With every step that took them closer to the city, he became more remote, almost visibly assuming the mantle of power. Under his head dress, which was no longer pulled over his face, his expression was stern, the little frown lines apparent. His shoulders were set. He was no longer Jamil, but Prince of Daar-el-Abbah. Behind him, Cassie felt lost and a little apprehensive. Their regal entrance into Jamil’s city was quite sufficient to remind her of the true nature of their relationship,
Daar was built on a plateau. The city gates were emblazoned with a golden panther rampant and some Arabic script she assumed would spell Invincible, which Celia had told her was Jamil’s motto. They passed through the large gates into a city which looked very much like Balyrma, with a network of narrow streets running at right angles to the main thoroughfare. Each alley was crowded with tall houses, overhanging more and more as they rose so that at the top they almost seemed to touch. A series of piazzas with a fountain at the centre of each linked the main thoroughfare, which she was surprised to see was cobbled. The air was redolent with a myriad of smells. The sharp, distinctive tang from the tannery mingled with the aroma of spices and roasting meat. The citrus perfume of lemons and oranges vied with the sweet heady scent from a white blossom Cassie did not recognise. A pungent, surprisingly familiar sheep-like smell emanated from a herd of penned goats. As they picked their way through the crowds, she barely had time to track down the source of one aroma before another assailed her senses.
Everywhere was colour: the robes of the women, the blankets that were being strung out to air across the alleys, the blue and red and gold and green tiles which decorated the fountains and the minarets. And everywhere was noise, too, the braying of the animals, the excited cries and laughter of the children, the strange ululating noise that the men made as they bowed. Captivated and overwhelmed, Cassie forgot her fears and surrendered herself to the magic of the East.
Towards the end of the plateau, nearer the palace, the alleys were gradually replaced by grander houses with white-tiled walls and keyhole-shaped doors, tall turrets marking the corners. The royal palace was built on the furthest part of the plateau, surrounded on three of its sides by the city walls, which formed a second layer of protection after the palace’s own. The doors of the gatehouse were of a dark wood, fronted by a heavy portcullis that was being drawn up as they approached. The golden panther was emblazoned on a crest at the apex, and emblazoned, too, on the twin turrets that were built into the corners of the high white walls. An intriguing line of little ornamental towers stretched along the top of the wall, above an intricately tiled border of red and green and gold. Fascinated, Cassie slowed her camel in order to drink in the detail, unwittingly causing a minor traffic jam as the whole caravan halted behind her. Jamil, who had already passed through the doorway, quickly sent his gatekeeper out to lead her camel in.
‘I’m sorry,’ Cassie whispered, once she had finally climbed out of the saddle, ‘your palace is so beautiful I stopped to get a better look.’
Jamil gave no acknowledgement, shaking out his cloak and making his way across the courtyard to where Halim awaited him. Cassie stood alone in the shadow of the gatehouse, wondering what she should do. Glancing around her, at the gatekeeper, the guards who stood with their arms crossed, she was met with blank expressions and downcast eyes. She took a hesitant step into the courtyard, then another, as far as the fountain, which was its centrepiece. Neither Jamil nor Halim gave any sign of noticing her. The water, which sprinkled from a smiling fish, looked lovely and cool. She stripped off her gloves and put back her veil, holding out her hands to let it drip on to them, then dabbed her wrists to her hot forehead. Heavenly! She sat down on the fountain’s rim, and trailed her fingers in the water, smiling to see the little gold and silver fish that swam in the bowl. The sound of someone clearing their throat made her look up. She encountered the impassive gaze of Halim.
‘Lady Cassandra, Prince Jamil has asked me to take you to Linah.’
‘But—is the prince not going to introduce me to his daughter himself?’
‘The prince has more important matters to attend to.’
Cassie got to her feet. ‘Will the prince be visiting Linah later?’
‘I am Prince Jamil’s man of business, Lady Cassandra. He does not make a point of sharing his domestic arrangements with me.’
‘I see,’ Cassie said. Obviously this man was not happy with her presence here. As she followed Halim’s rigidly disapproving back across the courtyard and along a seemingly endless corridor to the back of the palace, Cassie’s confidence ebbed. Jamil hadn’t told her anything of his domestic arrangements. She had no idea what her place was in the palace hierarchy.
Halim stood back to allow her to go through a door flung open by a guard. The door clanged shut behind her. She heard the gradually retreating sound of Halim’s footsteps echo on the tiled floor on the other side of the door.
The room was small, a mere ante-chamber. Two of the walls were covered in mirrored tiles that reflected the beautiful enamelled vase which sat on a gilt table in the centre of the room. She passed through another doorway, lifting aside the lace and silk curtains, and found herself in the most unusual courtyard she had ever seen. It was not square but oval, with a colonnaded terrace curving all the way round, a series of connected rooms leading off it, with a second tier of rooms above. There were two fountains playing in harmony, one with the sun as its centrepiece, the other the moon. The courtyard was decorated with intricate mosaic, which featured a gold border interlaced with blue flowers, inside which was portrayed, to Cassie’s delight, what looked like Scheherazade sitting at King Shahryar’s feet. A spiral staircase set in the furthest end of the oval attracted her attention. Picking up her skirts, she climbed up to the second floor, which had a covered terrace, and upwards again, to the topmost part of the turret, where the stairs ended on a flat viewing platform like a English castle’s battlement. Clutching the sides, for the height was dizzying, Cassie could see that her courtyard and terrace were set into the furthest part of the plateau. Below the white walls of the palace were the ochre ones of the city. Beyond that, the lush, green terraced fields fed by the oasis stretched out, and beyond that lay the desert and the mountains.
She stood there for some time, gazing out over Jamil’s kingdom, oblivious of the baking heat of the sun, until a scuffling sound distracted her. Looking down into the courtyard, she saw a small, exquisitely dressed young girl gazing up inquisitively at her. ‘Hello, Linah,’ Cassie called down, for it could only be she, ‘my name’s Cassie and I’m your new governess.’