The Bride Box by Michael Pearce Read Free Book Online Page B

the youngest?’
    â€˜Nine.’
    â€˜Nine. That is young to get married.’
    â€˜She was ready for it.’
    â€˜Shame on you, Mustapha!’ said a woman’s voice from the back of the crowd that had gathered.
    â€˜Peace, woman!’ said the basket maker angrily. ‘She wished it. When her sister went, she wanted to go, too.’
    â€˜Ah, but not into marriage,’ said Owen.
    â€˜A man offered for her, and she was willing!’
    â€˜Ah, yes, but what did he offer?’
    â€˜A good home. Well provided.’
    â€˜Better than yours, perhaps? Especially since you took a new wife.’
    â€˜He knows all!’ someone called out.
    â€˜What if he does?’ said the basket maker angrily. ‘There is no law against taking another wife.’
    â€˜There is against selling a child, though,’ said Mahmoud.
    â€˜She went to a good home! She wanted it.’
    â€˜Whose home?’
    â€˜A man’s. I do not know his name.’
    â€˜You sold your daughter to a man and you do not know his name?’
    â€˜I did
not
sell her.’
    â€˜How much did he give you?’
    The basket maker rose to his feet furiously. ‘I shall not listen!’
    â€˜You will,’ said Mahmoud. ‘Sit down!’
    The basket maker hesitated, then sat down. ‘Who are you?’ he whispered.
    â€˜The Parquet,’ said Mahmoud. ‘And this is the Mamur Zapt.’
    Owen was never sure how well the title was known outside Cairo, but there was a little ripple of astonishment in the crowd that had gathered. Owen and Mahmoud didn’t mind the crowd. Sometimes it had its advantages.
    â€˜What do you want from us?’ said Mustapha sullenly.
    â€˜The truth. What is the name of the man you sold her to?’
    â€˜I … I do not know. I have told you!’
    Mustapha shook his head unhappily.
    â€˜You don’t know? Or you won’t tell?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜Your daughter goes to a house and you don’t know where it is?’
    â€˜A long way away,’ muttered the basket maker.
    â€˜Ah, there I believe you,’ said Mahmoud.
    â€˜What is this?’ Mustapha broke out angrily. ‘Why do you question me? She wished to get married; a man made a good offer – what is wrong with that?’
    â€˜And you cannot tell me the name of the man, nor the place of his home? Good offer, indeed! Would her mother have thought so? Her true mother?’
    â€˜When you have five children, you cannot do as well for them as you would like. She knew she would have to marry. In our village all the children know that. She had known that for a long time.’
    â€˜Long enough to make ready a bride box?’
    â€˜The offer came sooner than I had expected.’
    â€˜So she didn’t have a bride box? Unlike her sister?’
    â€˜Her sister had a bride box, certainly. She had more time to prepare one.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Mahmoud. ‘I have seen it.’
    There was a stir of amazement in the crowd.
    A woman pushed through the people. She was poorly dressed and didn’t wear a veil. Her cheeks were cut with tribal marks and her hands were dyed with henna. She was shouting angrily, ‘What is this? What is this? What are you doing with my man?’
    â€˜Asking questions,’ said Mahmoud. ‘Which have to be answered.’
    â€˜What questions?’
    â€˜About your daughters. Your new daughters. The ones who were in your husband’s house when you came but are not there now.’
    â€˜Well, what of it?’ the woman said, more warily. ‘They have gone away, that is all. Who asks these questions?’
    â€˜The police,’ said someone in the crowd.
    â€˜The police? Hah!’ the woman scoffed. ‘What do I care about the police?’
    â€˜The police from Cairo.’
    The woman put her hand over her mouth and stood for a moment looking uncertainly around her. Then she