Maybe he’s right, Sibylla thought. The harbor in Mogador really was too small for modern ships, especially if steamboats were indeed the future. And fewer and fewer caravans were coming to Mogador. They went directly from Marrakesh to Rabat, Casablanca, and Tangier.
She looked at the harbor entrance, where the waves were breaking and foaming against the rocks. What would become of her if John moved the business to Tangier? Her children were grown and leading their own lives. If she stayed in Mogador, she would not even have her work to keep her busy.
And in Tangier you will be too far away from André, a voice whispered.
Sibylla pushed the thought aside. Yet something strange had happened since her return from Qasr el Bahia. She had dug out the worn edition of One Thousand and One Nights that she had buried under a pile of old files after her falling-out with André. When she was alone in her bed at night, she would furtively leaf through the stories and discover that they evoked the same confusing fantasies now as they had twenty years earlier. Ecstatic images of passion and lovemaking that followed her into her dreams and made her blush in the morning. She resolved to stash the book away, but then she would find herself reading it again, greedily, and with flushed cheeks, like a drunkard needing his spirits.
Sibylla sighed and looked out at the fishing boats moored to the pier. Some fishermen were using this time to mend their nets, while others repaired their hulls. The rest stood together, smoking shisha and complaining about the Almighty having created such weather when honorable fishermen wanted nothing more than to do their job.
“I feel sorry for those people out there,” Emily shouted against the hissing wind and pointed to a few merchant ships dancing on the waves like nutshells and waiting for the wind to die down so that they could enter the harbor.
“When I came to Mogador, there was a storm,” Sibylla reminisced. “And fog. We had to wait for two days before we came on land. The ship we sailed on, the Queen Charlotte, is in the harbor now. When she is fully loaded, she’ll sail directly back to London. You could go along, perhaps with Victoria.” The idea for making her homesick daughter-in-law happy had come to Sibylla when she heard Victoria defend her and Emily.
Emily, however, was not enthused. “You just want to keep me away from Sabri,” she countered suspiciously.
Mother and daughter were standing in front of the warehouse of the Spencer & Son Shipping Company. Sibylla took out the key to the heavy gate, but found it already unlocked. “Strange,” she muttered and peered inside. But the warehouse was quiet and empty; nothing seemed amiss, so far as she could tell in the semidarkness.
“What’s the matter?” Emily asked.
“Oh, nothing. Perhaps Aladdin is here working. Sunday is for him an ordinary day, after all. Wait here, will you? I’ll be right back.”
When the sound of her mother’s footsteps on the wooden stairs had faded away, Emily walked aimlessly through the large hall and looked at the variety of merchandise stored there. In front by the gate were piles of leather from Fez, which were first in line to be shipped. Behind, there were several rows of wooden barrels with palm oil and on the other side of the gate were crates in which smaller orders could be shipped. Emily was reading the labels when she heard Sibylla shriek.
“Robbers! Thieves!”
Without hesitation Emily grabbed an iron rod normally used to prop open the gate and rushed up the stairs. “Mummy! Where are you? Do you need help?”
She found her mother in front of the large oak cabinet in her office. The doors were wide open. One of the two large earthenware jugs Sibylla used to store the saffron lay shattered. She held the other in her hand.
“They stole all of the saffron!” she cried. She turned the jug over and one last dried blossom floated to the floor. “Everything in the jugs and the four sacks from André as well! I wanted to keep his harvest safe for him. And now this! The thief took the cash box too, almost a thousand English pounds plus as many pesetas and ducats! I had planned to give them to Comstock on the Queen Charlotte.” Sibylla’s voice faded. “But the loss of the saffron is much worse. Of course I’m going to—”
“Mummy!” Emily looked around nervously. “Maybe the thieves are still lurking. We should get out of here!”
Thomas was waiting for them in the salon when they arrived home half an hour later. Already overwrought, Sibylla feared another misfortune. “You’re back already? Is Monsieur Rouston worse?”
“Would that be a reason for me to be here, Mother?” Thomas sounded surprised. “No, I can assure you, Monsieur Rouston is on the road to recovery. But his wife . . .” He paused, for he was still haunted by Aynur’s cruel fate. “She has died.”
“My God!” Sibylla sputtered. “Her poor children are all alone.”
“So is Monsieur Rouston,” Thomas replied. “He is grieving for his wife.”
“Of course.” Sibylla wiped her brow with her hand. Her head swam. She longed for André, wanting him to take her in his arms and console her. But André was mourning Aynur, and Sibylla had no one.
Thomas turned to Emily and kissed her on the cheeks. “Hello, little sister.” He held her at arm’s length and looked her over. “You look strange. Has something happened?”
Sibylla had told her that she wanted to be the one to share the news of the theft, so Emily said only, “Is Sabri back in Mogador as well?”
Thomas nodded. “He is with his family. But he instructed me three times to give you his regards. Also, he’s brought along your little patient with the broken arm and his parents. They’re staying at the maristan and we shall be looking after the little one until he is well.”
The door to the salon opened and John stuck in his head. “Can we please eat now? I’m going to get very cross if I don’t get my roast lamb soon!”
Sibylla cleared her throat. “First, I have something to tell all of you. John, please fetch Victoria! Something has happened at the harbor.”
A few minutes later, the family had gathered. John, standing behind Victoria’s chair, grumbled, “I can’t wait to hear what can be so important as to keep me from my Sunday roast!”
Sibylla, fingers interlaced in her lap, looked first at Thomas and then at John before speaking. “Somebody has broken into the cabinet in my office. All of the saffron and the cash box are gone.”
“Merciful heavens!” Victoria covered her mouth. “To think what might have happened had you caught the intruder in the act!”
“She’s absolutely right. From now on, you should never go to the harbor unescorted,” Thomas cautioned her.
Sibylla nodded.
“I’ll go to the qaid and demand that he order an investigation,” John decided. “Perhaps there’s a connection to the attack at Qasr el Bahia. It could be that those thugs were trying again to steal Rouston’s saffron.”
“But how could they know that I had taken the saffron with me?” Sibylla objected.