The Abyssinian Proof

37

Saba saw Amida stride into the compound. She also caught sight of a turbaned stranger behind him in the lane before he turned and disappeared. She walked stiffly across the courtyard, her bandaged legs rubbing against each other beneath her robe. She followed the oleanders to Amida’s cottage and, finding the door ajar, pushed it open and went in.

“Amida,” she called.

Amida came to the door, unbuttoning his jacket. “Hello, little sister,” he said, regarding her grim face. “Has something happened?”

“Mama is dead.”

“What?” Amida sank against the door frame. “What happened? Did someone…?”

Saba wondered what he suspected. Whatever it was, she was sure, was nowhere near as bizarre as the truth.

“Constantine thinks she was poisoned by something on that monstrance above the divan. It fell and she cut herself on it.”

“Poisoned?” Amida repeated in a disbelieving voice. “But she was strong and healthy.”

“She was ill, Amida. Very ill, even before the poisoning.” She paused. “We just didn’t see it.”

Amida sank shakily onto the sofa. He sat unmoving, head in his hands.

Saba sat beside him and waited.

“I should have known there was something wrong,” Amida admitted finally, lifting his head. “When Kamil Pasha brought the cross back, I thought maybe the shock had done that to her. I wish…” He choked down a sob.

Saba sat closer and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t react, she left it there.

“I wish I had a chance to explain things before she passed away. I can’t bear the thought that she died thinking I was responsible for Malik’s murder.”

Saba said nothing. He was responsible, she thought, but her anger had leached away under the onslaught of sorrow. There was room only for one measure in every cup, she mused, and hers was filled with grief. There would be no room for anger until she had drunk this cup dry.

She went into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and gave it to him. He stared at the glass in his hand, but didn’t drink. His shoulders heaved. She took the glass from him and laid a hand on his arm. There would be time for recriminations later.