Haveli by Suzanne Fisher Staples Read Free Book Online Page A

of evil.
    In the family’s quarters, relations between thewives seemed placid on the surface, with the women cooperating, socializing, and even commiserating among themselves. They shopped and gossiped together, laughed over their triumphs, and wept over small injustices. Their communion seemed innocent to Rahim, who surveyed his family with the satisfaction of a shepherd.
    But in the world of the servants, alliances were drawn and plots were hatched openly. Relationships were what they were, without pretense or hypocrisy, and at times the servants’ quarters had the atmosphere of a battlefield.
    But the women’s gentle camaraderie and the laughter that rang out from the family
zenana
in truth covered something else. Behind their veils the women also plotted and schemed, usually one against another, often several against one or two, occasionally all united against one, and that one most frequently was Shabanu.
    In the servants’ quarters much of the scheming was done on behalf of members of Rahim’s family. Some servants plotted also for their own gain.
    But all of the servants, regardless of how well or ill they were treated, derived their own power from the master or mistress they served.
    Zenat was the oldest and weakest among the servants. She had nowhere else to go. When there was trouble she ducked her head, took blows as she had to, then dove for cover. Because she was nearing theend of her days of usefulness, she was assigned to work for Shabanu and Mumtaz.
    Zenat would come scuttling into the room by the stable, looking over her shoulder like a ground squirrel being chased by a fox.
    “What is it?” Shabanu would ask.
    “Nothing,
Begum
,” the old
ayah
would reply. “I’m too old for trouble.”
    And that was how Zenat got along.
    Sometimes the servants favored by Amina tormented Zenat beyond reason, simply because she was Shabanu’s servant.
    One day when Mumtaz was an infant, Khansama, the cook—who was Amina’s creature, body and soul—asked Zenat to fetch some
ghee
from a cupboard in the courtyard. The entire kitchen staff watched from the doorway. Zenat was afraid, but she dared not disobey, for Khansama stood, arms folded over his chest, to see that she did as she was told. An angry buzzing vibrated the cupboard, and Zenat raised a trembling hand to the rusted latch.
    Through the crack, swarms of angry bees darted out into the sunlight and stung her dozens of times on her face and neck. She flailed her gnarled hands, and the little furry creatures flew up on the loose arms of her tunic and stung her there, got inside her bodice and stung her chest.
    Khansama and the kitchen servants laughed until tears of mirth streamed from their eyes; they bent attheir waists and slapped their knees until they were weak. Then one by one they grew bored and drifted back to gossip on the
charpois
on the veranda by the kitchen door.
    Zenat sank to her knees, the bees still swarming about her. Shabanu heard her cries and ran to the old woman, swatting the bees as she helped Zenat to her feet. She tore open Zenat’s tunic and freed the bees trapped inside. Then she half carried, half dragged the servant to her room, where she stayed for three days, with Mumtaz on a cot beside Zenat’s bed.
    Shabanu bathed Zenat’s swollen face and chest with spirits of ammonia and eucalyptus oil and held her head, forcing spoonfuls of ginger tea between her lips. Slowly Zenat began to mend. While her body improved, her spirit seemed to have retreated to a dark place within her, and the old
ayah
was never the same again. But she remained loyal to Shabanu and Mumtaz forever after.
    Later in the morning, after their walk along the canal, and after Zenat had brushed Mumtaz’s hair and taken her out to play, Shabanu covered herself with an old
chadr
and crossed the courtyard to the main house. A guard stood at the corner of the veranda, and when he turned his back Shabanu slipped through a side door. Once inside she turned immediately