Palace Walk

2

The man made his way toward her. She went on ahead of him, holding the lamp aloft. He followed, mumbling, "Good evening, Amina".

She replied in a low voice, both polite and deferential, "Good evening, sir".

When they reached the bedroom, Amina went to put the lamp on the table, while her husband hung his stick on the edge of the bedstead. He took off his fez[2], which he placed on the cushion at the center of the sofa, and then his wife approached to help him remove his clothes. He looked tall and broad-shouldered standing there. He had a massive body with a large, firm belly, covered smartly and comfortably by a cloak and a caftan[3] that showed both his good taste and his wealth. His spread of neatly combed and parted black hair, his ring with its large diamond, and his gold watch only served to emphasize his refinement and affluence. His long face was expressive, with firm skin and clean-cut features. Taken as a whole, it revealed his strong personality and good looks. He had wide, blue eyes and a large, proud nose which, despite its size, was well proportioned for the expanse of his face. His lips were full and the ends of his thick, black mustache were twisted with extraordinary care.

When his wife came near him, he spread his arms out. She removed his cloak and folded it carefully before placing it on the sofa. Turning back to him, she loosened the sash of his caftan, removed it, and folded it up with similar care to lay it on top of the cloak. Her husband took his house shirt and then his white skullcap, putting on each in turn. Yawning, he stretched and sat down on the sofa. He spread out his legs and leaned his head against the wall. After his wife finished arranging his clothes, she sat beside his extended feet and began to remove his shoes and socks. When his right foot was bared, the first defect of this handsome, powerful body was revealed. His little toe had been eaten away by successive scrapings of a razor attacking a chronic corn.

Amina left the room for a few minutes and returned with a basin and pitcher. Placing the basin by her husband’s feet, she stood ready and waiting with the pitcher in her hand. Her husband straightened up and held his hands out to her. She poured the water for him. He washed his face, rubbed his head, and rinsed thoroughly. Then he took the towel from the sofa cushion and set about drying his head, face, and hands, while his wife carried the basin to the bath. This task was the last of the many duties she performed in the big house. For a quarter of a century she had continued to discharge it with an ardor undimmed by ennui[4]. To the contrary, she did it with pleasure and delight and with the same enthusiasm that spurred her on to undertake the other household chores from just before sunrise until sunset. For this reason she was called "the bee" by women in her neighborhood, in recognition of her incessant perseverance and energy.

She returned to the room, closed the door, and pulled a pallet out from under the bed. She placed it in front of the sofa and sat cross-legged on it. In good conscience she did not think she had any right to sit beside him. Time passed without her speaking. She waited until he invited her to speak; then she would. Her husband slumped back against the sofa cushion. After a long evening of partying he looked tired. His eyelids, which were red at the edges from his drinking, drooped. He was breathing heavily as if inebriated. Although he was in the habit of drinking to the point of intoxication every night, he postponed his return home until the effects of the wine had worn off and he had regained control of himself. He wished to protect his dignity and image at home. His wife was the only member of his family allowed to see him after he had been out carousing. The only effect of the drinking she could remark was the smell.

She had never encountered any alarming or perverse conduct from him, except when they were first married, and she had chosen to overlook that. Paradoxically, by keeping him company at this hour, she reaped a chattiness and expansiveness in his conversation she could rarely gain when he was completely sober. She well remembered how distressed she had been when she first noticed he was coming home drunk from his evening escapades. To her mind, wine had always suggested brutality and craziness and, most shocking of all, an offense against religion. She had been disgusted and scared. Whenever he came home, she had suffered unbearable torments. In time, experience had revealed that on his return from his partying he was more gentle than on any other occasion and not so stern. His look was more tender and he was much more talkative. She grew to enjoy his company and stopped worrying, although she never forgot to implore God to pardon his sin and forgive him. She dearly wished he would be that good humored when he was sober and in his right mind. She was thoroughly amazed that this sin made him more amiable. She was torn for a long time between her hatred for it, based on her religious training, and the comfort and peace she gained from it. She buried her thoughts deep inside her, however, and concealed them as though unable even to admit them to herself.

Her husband spared no effort to safeguard his dignity and authority. His moments of tenderness were fleeting and accidental. As he sat there, a broad smile might appear on his lips at a memory that cropped up from his happy evening. At once he would get control of himself and press his lips together while stealing a glance at his wife. He would find her as usual, in front of him, with her eyes lowered. Reassured, he would return to his memories and his heart that cherished them as though from an unquenchable thirst for the pleasures of life. It seemed he could still see the party, composed of a select group of his favorite friends and chums. In the midst of them was one of those moonlike beauties who shone in his life from time to time. He could still hear the jokes, wisecracks, and witty comments for which he had such a talent, stringing one after the other, when he was animated by wine and music. He recalled his clever remarks with a care and attention accented by wonder and self-satisfaction. He remembered their effect on people and the success and delight they occasioned, making him everyone’s best friend.

It was hardly surprising. He often felt the role he played at these parties was so significant that it was practically the ultimate anyone could hope for in life. His career as a whole was a necessary task he performed in order to gain some hours filled with drink, laughter, song, and flirtation to be spent in the chummy company of his pals. Now and then some of the sweet, catchy tunes that were sung at their happy parties ran through his head. He abandoned himself to them and sighed, as they drifted away from him, "God is most great". He loved the singing as much as the drink, laughter, companions, and pretty girls. He would not tolerate a party without song.

It was nothing for him to journey a long way, to the outskirts of Cairo, in order to hear a renowned male vocalist like al-Hamuli, Muhammad Uthman, or al-Manilawi, wherever he resided. Thus their tunes found shelter in his hospitable soul, like nightingales in a leafy tree. He became a music expert and an acknowledged authority on lyrics, tunes, and music appreciation. He loved song with both his soul and his body. Spiritually he was transported and overwhelmed. Physically his senses were strongly aroused, setting him dancing, particularly his head and hands. For this reason, he had unforgettable spiritual and physical associations with lines from songs like: "So why do you torment me and shun me?" or "What will we know tomorrow?… What will we see the following day?" and "Listen, then, and pay attention to what I'm telling you". Any one of these tunes with its associated family of memories would suffice to bring his intoxication to a boil.

Transported by the music, he would nod his head, smile lasciviously, snap his fingers, and sing along when alone. Singing, however, was not an isolated pleasure attracting him for itself. It was a flower in a bouquet, gaining beauty from the setting and contributing to it. How welcome it was in the company of a close friend and loyal comrade when combined with vintage wine and pleasant conversation. "To devote himself to it alone, to listen to it at home played on a phonograph, however fine and agreeable that might be, lacked the appropriate atmosphere, ambiance, and environment. How preposterous to think his heart should be satisfied with that! What he liked was to interpose a witty remark between one tune and the next to set everyone laughing, to take a sip from a full glass before starting the music again, and to observe its effect in the face of a friend or the eye of a chum. Then they would all join in expressing their admiration by saying, "Praise the Lord".

The creation of memories was not the only result of his partying. Another of its other virtues was the tendency it produced in him to be kind to his obedient, submissive wife. It was what she longed for when she was with him. He was companionable and talkative. He would tell her his innermost thoughts, thus making her feel, if only for the moment, that she was not just his servant but also a partner in his life. He proceeded to discuss household matters with her. He told her he had directed a merchant he knew to buy up a reserve of clarified butter, wheat, and cheese for the house. He attacked the rise in prices and the scarcity of necessary commodities caused by this war, which had been giving the world a pounding for the past three years. As always when he mentioned the war, he began cursing the Australian troops who had spread through the city like locusts, destroying the land.

The truth was that he had a special reason for resenting the Australians. Their tyranny separated him from the Ezbekiya Garden entertainment district, which he had abandoned in defeat, except for the few rare opportunities he could snatch. He could not stand to expose himself to soldiers who openly plundered people of their possessions and took pleasure in abusing and insulting them without restraint.

He began to ask after the "children," as he called them, making no distinction between the eldest of them, a clerk in al-Nahhasin School, and the youngest, who was a pupil in Khalil Agha Elementary School. Then he inquired suspiciously, "And Kamal? You better not be covering up his mischief".

The woman thought of her young son, whose innocent pranks she did in fact conceal. Her husband did not recognize that there could be innocent games or amusements. She replied meekly, "He respects his father’s commands".

Her husband was silent for a moment. His thoughts seemed to be wandering. Once more he was harvesting memories from his happy evening. Then his memory slipped back to the events of the day before the party. He remembered all at once that it had been a momentous day. In his condition, he did not feel like keeping from her anything that floated to consciousness. He said as though addressing himself, "What a fine man Prince Kamal al-Din Husayn is! Do you know what he did? He refused to ascend the throne of his late father so long as the British are in charge".

The woman had heard the day before of the death of Sultan Husayn Kamal, but this was the first time she heard the name of his son. She could not find anything to say, but moved by her feelings of veneration for the speaker and afraid not to comment on something he said, she responded, "May God have mercy on the Sultan and bless his son".

Her husband continued his remarks: "Prince Ahmad Fuad, or Sultan Fuad as he will be known from now on, accepted the throne. The celebration came to a climax today with his investiture. Then he went in a procession from Bustan Castle to Abdin Palace. Praise to God, the Everlasting".

Amina listened to him with interest and delight. She was interested in any news of the outside world, about which she knew almost nothing. Her delight was inspired by the affectionate attention she could boast of because her husband had spoken to her of such weighty matters. Moreover, the knowledge represented by the conversation gave her pleasure, because she could repeat it to her children, especially her two daughters, who were as totally ignorant of the outside world as she. She could think of nothing better to repay him for his generous sentiments than to repeat in his hearing the prayer she knew he heartily endorsed. She was also expressing her own sincere emotions when she said, "Our Lord can return our sovereign Abbas to us".

The man shook his head and murmured, "When?… When? Only the Lord knows. All we read about in the papers are British victories. Will they really win or will the Germans and Turks be victorious in the end? Answer our prayer, O God".

The man closed his eyes from fatigue and yawned. He stretched out, saying, "Take the lamp back to the sitting room".

The woman got to her feet and took the lamp from the table. Before she left the room, she heard her husband belch. She stammered, "Health and strength".