El Ghaliya

The second daughter.

There wasn’t a person in the kingdom of the Moors who did not speak about the three daughters of Sultan Rashad. Rumors spread about how peculiarly different they were. Each one of them was extremely distinct that people whispered and spread all over the country their doubts and speculations about them being born from the same womb. The legend says that they were all the daughters of one of his slaves, a beautiful black Sudanese named Aamira. She was so accomplished, so eloquent in her speech and she emitted such a grace that no favorites remained when she arrived and no favorite dared to approach the Sultan despite the desperate attempts of the jealous wives. Aamira was hidden from the public that no servant has ever laid eyes on her. They only heard her marvelous poetry sang from afar. The verses echoed in the palace, for everyone, including her sworn-enemies, listened carefully and allowed themselves to be entertained with her remarkable talent. All the governesses said that her first daughter inherited all her charming looks, but she possessed a white skin like her father. It was her third daughter that inherited her dark complexion and her kinky hair; while the second daughter was always the topic of debate. She was a plain girl with no charismatic presence and not the slightest features of a princess. She obtained from her mother only the name she had given her: El Ghaliya, meaning the precious one.

El Ghaliya was a very ordinary young girl. She grew up hearing the servants, the teachers, the slaves, the concubines, and every living person in the palace say that she was hard on the eyes. And she, herself, believed it to be so. She had, indeed, a plump face adorned with a thick wavy hair that never settled down on her head and she, despite her desperate efforts, was always chubby. After looking at her reflection for hours every day, she was convinced that she was, as everyone said, plain-featured. Her only escape was the library of her father. No woman was allowed to enter it, but she was an exception. Her deep understanding of the most difficult books and her clever answers won her the favor of Sultan Rashad; to the extent that he bestowed on her a beautifully furnished room that he called “El Ghaliya’s Study Room”. It was in this specific room that her father would announce the most dreadful news.

It was in the afternoon of a very hot summer day. No sound could be heard in the palace, not even the buzzing of a fly. El Ghaliya was hidden as usual in her own safe space, enjoying a foreign book that she acquired with much difficulty. She was thinking that it was worth the trouble and it allowed her to escape all the boring stupid needle work that her sisters forced her to do. She was never good with her hands anyway. It was just natural to let her study, nurture her talents, and grow into the wise person she was supposed to be. She was the scholar of the family! Her father depended upon her mental faculties, her commentaries, and sense of righteousness. And although all of her work passed on and was published as the production of her foolish brothers, it didn’t matter. The acknowledgments of the Sultan and the favorable reviews her works received made her heart flutter. While she was battling with these thoughts, a hurried sound of steps was heard on the corridor and before long, the door was thrown open. The girl jumped from her place and bowed with every atom in her body. She said in the warmest voice and the most respectable manner:

“Father, it is a great honor to have you in my humble abode. Please, accept my seat for it is the best one I have in this room!”

Sultan Rashad was her guest that day and it was an unexpected visit. He was a middle-aged man with a handsome face and a paunch he acquired from eating too much couscous. He was wearing a men’s Caftan of bright green silk, which appeased the eyes. He, then, searched the room with his eyes and said happily:

“I see that you have enlarged your collection! Such a variety of books!”

“It is thanks to your graces, father! I couldn’t dream of having such a room if it wasn’t for your generosity.”

Her words appealed to him. El Ghaliya was his favorite daughter for sure and he couldn’t help but regret that she wasn’t a boy. It was a waste of her sharp senses and oratory capacity. She sure was plain, but her wit and quickness of mind was rare among her equals. For a moment, the time had stopped in the little room. Sultan Rashad was deep in thought, biting his lip from remorse and thinking how to disclose the news; while his daughter was waiting, reading his face and trying to decipher every movement of his lips and twitch in his brows. She knew that it wasn’t a piece of news that would please her. The king looked at her again intently. Her hair was a mess, just a bush of black hair sitting on the top of her round head. Indeed, she was not special and not in the least pretty. A sultan cannot regret that he found such a daughter as this a suitor. He coughed, then proceeded to announce:

“Do you remember the foreigner who visited us a fortnight’s ago? You were the only one who could communicate with him. “

“Yes, I do, father.”

“Well, you see, of all my daughters, he chose you as his future bride and companion. And I agreed because… Not that I need to explain… but, the alliance would be of great benefit to our country. (He perceived that her color has changed and he continued more firmly). Your other sisters are, unfortunately, already engaged for more crucial and important alliances. So, it is you who has to fulfill this mission.”

El Ghaliya grew pale and her lips, tongue and throat dried in an instant. With the fierce and piercing looks she received from her father, she could not help but answer. Her voice cracked:

“As you wish, father.”

He left the room afterwards refusing to admit his grief to his own self while his daughter was bowing to hide the huge tears rolling down her peach-shaped cheeks . Only one idea filled her head: wait for the night to fall.