*
When they arrived at Semele’s apartment, Cabe made a big show of looking around. First he threatened the closet before whipping the door open, shouting, “I’ve got Mace!” Then he addressed the shower curtain and the space under the bed too, trying to lighten the mood.
“All clear.”
“Thank you. That was amazing,” Semele said, teasing him.
“Seriously, you get scared, call me and I’ll come right over. And if you see that guy again—police.” He gave her a pointed look. “You really should tell Bren.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. Bren would demand she stay at his place, and that was the last thing she needed.
After Cabe left she double-checked the lock on the door and pulled down the shades. There was enough coffee on hand and food in the freezer to last her until Monday. She didn’t plan to leave her apartment for the rest of the weekend.
She took a long shower and changed into her favorite old leggings and house sweater. She had just powered up her computer when the phone rang.
She let the answering machine pick up.
“Honey, it’s me.” Her mother’s voice filled the room. “We have to talk. Really. This has gone on long enough.”
Semele bit her lip, debating whether to pick up.
“Your father wouldn’t like this.…”
Semele let out a deep breath. This was the first time her mother had played the “your father” card.
“I really do need to talk to you … and tell you I’m sorry … so sorry. Can you come home for Thanksgiving?” Her mother’s voice trailed off. She was crying.
“Shit.” Semele swore under her breath and grabbed the phone. “Mom?”
But she had already hung up.
Semele almost rang back, her fingers lingering over the keys. She would call her before she left for Beijing. She would be out of the country for Thanksgiving, but maybe she would go home for Christmas. They could talk then. Her mother was right. Her father wouldn’t be happy. But he also wasn’t here anymore.
I tell you Rabka’s story because every tree has a branch that rots.
The stars were in great disharmony at the moment of her birth. The houses of the zodiac declared war, and the astrological signs faced one another in opposition. When you are born at such a discordant moment, you can either overcome your misfortune or become chained to it. Rabka chose to embrace the dissonance and, over the course of her life, to allow her spirit’s light to dim.
Her father, Ahmar, was a prodigy at the Academy of Gundeshapur and came to Baghdad at Caliph Harun’s invitation. Ahmar, a linguist, philosopher, and scientist, could read and write fluently in over six languages. Caliph Harun needed such men to help run his new empire.
Harun’s grandfather, al-Mansur, founded the new capital of the Abbasid Empire: Baghdad, the City of Peace. It was built in a perfect circle to reflect the harmony of Euclidian geometry. Euclid was an ancient scholar from Alexandria whose theorems had created a whole new system of mathematical thought. He had mastered plane geometry and the geometry of the three-dimensional world using intuitive axioms to show the properties of physical reality.
The caliph’s most astute astrologist had studied Euclid. He chose the city’s precise location, and the palace and mosque were constructed at the center of the circle to symbolize this new nexus of power. When the time came for al-Mansur’s grandson, Harun, to rule, Baghdad had become the jewel of the world.
Harun believed educated men ranked after God and angels. So he beckoned them to Baghdad, and Ahmar embraced this opportunity. The Academy of Gundeshapur, like a candle battered by the wind, was waning. Ahmar carried its light to Baghdad, along with his wife and young daughter, Rabka. He brought other graduates with him and three hundred camels to carry their books.
In Baghdad, the ink of a scholar was considered holy. Chinese papermaking had made its way to the capital, creating a flourishing new market for the written word. Scholars made up the new aristocracy, and within this elite Ahmar flourished.
Rabka was raised in luxury within the walls of Caliph Harun’s palace and surrounded by opulent gardens and pavilions that surpassed most people’s dreams of paradise. Crafted by the finest artists of the day, the palace’s vast rooms were filled with entire landscapes built to enchant the senses. Rabka had a gift with words and wrote poems describing the palace’s splendor, its fantastical forests, bridges, and waterfalls. Her poems centered on court life as well, announcing births, weddings, or other social events.
“Very few women have this talent, Rabka. I will not dissuade you from your writing,” her father said.
Very few women were allowed the opportunity to discover their talents, Rabka thought, but she kept that opinion to herself. “One day I will become as exalted as Ulayya,” she boasted. Ulayya, Caliph Harun’s sister, was a celebrated poet and musician, a rare feat for a woman. “One day I will be the same.”
Rabka’s father would only nod and smile, obviously disagreeing, but he did allow her to recite poems to the rawi who worked for him. Rawis memorized poems and performed them for large audiences, since many people could not read or write. A good rawi had over two thousand poems memorized at any given time and could recite them all at once.
When Caliph Harun died, Rabka composed her first madih, a poetic tribute to their new patron, al-Ma’mun, gaining her the attention of the court. Baghdad had undergone a civil war after Harun’s death as his two sons struggled for the caliphate, and al-Ma’mun emerged victorious. The position of Rabka’s family was secure once more, for al-Ma’mun loved learning above all else.
Rabka grew into an alluring young woman and adorned herself with as many jewels as Harun’s most beloved wife, Zubaidah. Zubaidah wore so much jewelry that two servants had to help her stand. She had thirty servants just to care for her pet monkey, and one hundred slave girls to recite the Koran at all hours to prove her piety. She would only eat off plates of precious metal and drink from golden goblets. Witnessing such excess only fueled Rabka’s passion and twisted her desires as the time neared for her to marry.
Soon she would no longer have the protection of her father. Rabka prayed every day and night for a good match, for someone who would allow her to stay in her beloved palace and write poems for the court. Her family had obtained immense wealth through her father’s accomplishments, and Rabka expected even greater glory with her future husband.
*
On the day of al-Ma’mun’s wedding to the vizier’s daughter, Rabka had her first premonition and saw the answer.
“Who is he?” she asked her servant, Aadila. Rabka motioned to the man across the hall in deep conversation with al-Ma’mun.
“Khalid al-Amin. A rising star, that one.”
“Is he a scholar?” Rabka asked, anxious.