Donkey-Vous (24 page)

“There you are,” said Rosa.

“I am very sorry this happened,” Owen said to Rosa, “but, you know, it is easily understandable.”

Rosa stayed silent.

“Georgiades,” said Owen, turning to the Greek, “you should apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yes,” said Owen firmly.

“Very well, then,” said Georgiades. “I apologize.”

“I don’t accept your apology,” said Rosa.

“But what do you want?” asked Owen, bewildered.

“I look to you,” said Rosa, “to see that my honor is protected.”

“Well, yes, I’m only glad to. But…”

“He will have to marry me. He is not a man I would normally have chosen but in the circumstances…”

Owen tried to persuade her that this was not necessary. Rosa, however, was adamant.

“I cannot marry anyone else,” she said, “not now that he has sullied me.”

“I haven’t sullied you!” protested the distraught Georgiades.

“My innocence has gone forever,” declared Rosa.

“Anyway, you can’t marry him,” said Owen. “You are too young.”

“I am fourteen,” said Rosa with dignity.

“That’s right. Too young.”

Rosa’s face darkened with fury.

“I shall speak to your lady,” she said.

And did.

“Fourteen is quite old in Cairo,” said Zeinab. “Most girls marry when they are thirteen. The men prefer it because it makes them more biddable. In Rosa’s case I think that point has already passed.”

“Georgiades is over twice her age,” Owen pointed out.

“That is supposed to lead to proper authority in the household.”

“I’ll talk to her father,” said Owen, “and get him to sort her out.”

Tsakatellis was inclined to share Owen’s view that his daughter was still too young to marry. This was to no avail, however, for his mother, the old Mrs. Tsakatellis, unexpectedly sided with her granddaughter. The other Mrs. Tsakatellis, Rosa’s mother, was not consulted in the matter.

Owen reported the deadlock to Georgiades.

“It’s no good,” said Georgiades. “They’ll get me.”

“What do you mean—‘They’ll get you’?”

“With a knife between the shoulder blades. You don’t know the Greeks.”

“Nonsense! Whatever are you thinking of?”

“Her relatives. It’s a matter of family honor now.”

“What nonsense!”

Georgiades, however, remained gloomy.

One morning he came into the office in a very agitated state. “It’s terrible,” he said. “They’ve sent a matchmaker.”

“You don’t have to agree,” Owen counseled him. “You’re a free man.”

“Not any more,” said Georgiades. “Not any more!”

First came two men carrying mirrors shaped like shields and mounted on long staves; then a band, playing strange Oriental instruments and mounted on camels with white shells on their bridles and shells and mirrors and tinsel on their scarlet caparisons. Then came masked jesters and banner-bearers, and a bagpipe band on foot, paid for by Owen. Last came the bride in a beautiful dark-wood palanquin borrowed for the occasion from one of the donkey-boys’ clients.

The donkey-boys were naturally there in force. Owen caught sight of Daouad’s beaming face among the throng and several of the faces behind the jesters’ masks seemed vaguely familiar. Even the boys from the donkey-vous across the street had been allowed to join in for this special occasion. There was Ali marching proudly beside his new brother-in-law.

The procession passed directly in front of the terrace steps where Owen and Mahmoud were standing. The donkey-boys waved up and there was a splendid jingle of bells.

The snake charmer gave a violent start.

“There it is again!” he cried out in alarm. “Just as it was before!”

“Not quite as it was before,” said Owen. “Or so I hope.”

[scanned anonymously in a galaxy far far away]

[A 3S Release— v1, html]

[April, 2013]