which in due course would find its way back to Layla. Many such messages passed between them in this way, allowing them to tear the veil of separation just enough to give them both heart and hope. And others who heard the lovers marvelled at the unity of their voices: so similar were they in tone andexpression that they sounded like a single chant. For theirs were the voices of love, and love is strong enough to break any spell.
Chapter 14
I n the garden, the trees were bedecked with smiling blossoms, while yellow roses and vermillion-red tulips fluttered like flags in the breeze. Violets dipped and swayed on their long, curved stems, as though trying to hide from one another. The rose-bush pointed thorny swords skywards, ready for battle, while the water-lily, taking a moment’s rest from the fray, threw down her shield on the crystal mirror of the lake. The hyacinth opened her eyes, while the box tree combed its tresses. The blossoms on the pomegranate tree yearned for their own fruit, while the narcissus glowered feverishly, like a lover emerging from a nightmare. The Judas tree stood tall and proud, its veins full of sap, quickened by the sun. The wild-rose bathed her leaves in the jasmine’s silver fountain, while the iris raised her lance with pride and determination. And onthe topmost branch of the plane tree, above the cooing turtle doves, sat a nightingale, the Majnun of birds, singing its songs of love.
Layla had come into the garden with her friends to enjoy the birdsong and to play among the flowers like the beautiful maidens who adorn the gardens of paradise. Was it her intention, once their games were over, to seek repose in the shadow of the scarlet roses? Was it her wish to make the green of the grass darker with her own shadow, or raise her cup in the company of the narcissus and the tulip? Or had she come as victor, there to exact tribute from the kingdom of this magnificent garden?
No, she intended none of these things. She intended, once their games had ended, simply to sit and lament, like those whose hearts are torn apart by love. She wanted to converse with the nightingale, to tell that love-sick bird her innermost thoughts and secrets. And maybe the breeze would bring word of the one she loved and mourned …
She was trying to find comfort in the garden, for she saw it as a mirror of her lover’s beauty and nothing more. She even hoped that the mirror might show her the way to the one reflected therein …
Of all this her friends, of course, knew nothing. For a while they played among the roses, but later, when they sat down to rest in a secluded corner of the garden, Layla walked on and sat down under a tree away from them. Only then could she pour out her grief.
‘Dearest heart,’ she sighed, ‘is it not true that we were created for each other? How noble you are, andhow passionate your heart! How it grieves me to think that our hearts were once as one: now the icy dagger of separation has ripped them apart. If only you could walk through this gate and into the garden; then, my love, our hearts would be as one once more! If only you could sit next to me and look into my eyes; then, my love, you would fulfil my deepest desire. But maybe you have already suffered so much because of me that you no longer wish to have my love, or to look upon the beauty of the garden.’
Suddenly, a voice cut through her dreams. Someone was passing by the garden, a haunting refrain on his lips. It was a stranger, of course, but Layla recognised Majnun’s verses immediately. The passer-by sang:
While Layla’s garden blooms in spring,
Majnun lies there, suffering.
How can Layla smile and jest,
While love puts Majnun to the test?
When Layla heard these words she began to cry bitter tears, sobbing so heavily that even the hardest of hearts would have been moved. Although she had no idea that she was being watched, one of her friends, noticing Layla’s absence, had followed her. Hiding behind a rose-bush,
Learning to Kill: Stories