Chapter 33 #2
“Green,” she said pointing to her eyes. She looked around but found little on the rocky island in the same color. She spied a wide stripe on her young friend’s sash and pointed. “Green.”
The toddler followed her gesture. His little eyes squinted. He looked back at her face. One tiny hand came up to the side of her eye. “Green,” he repeated.
Whispers of the word went around the little circle of women around Lily.
She looked at their eyes, curious and eager.
Of course! These women are as anxious to learn as I am.
They are no different than the intelligent women in the Seraglio or in London.
The more they know, the richer their lives become.
The teacher in Lily emerged from its sleep.
“Let’s begin, then,” she said in English to baffled expressions. “I am Lily.” She put a hand over her heart. “Lily. Zambak.”
When she pointed to the girl, the young woman didn’t disappoint. She put her hand on her heart and said, “Izza.” She pointed to Lily and said, “Zambak.” She giggled then and added, “Lily.”
Introductions passed amid much laughter. Only one refused, the woman with the most heavily decorated headpiece who invaded Lily’s peace the first day. She rose in a huff and retreated to her own home.
“She is Wasila, wife of headman,” Izza explained. Lily decided to ignore the rebuff and forge ahead. She learned as much as she taught when they moved on to exchange simple words: house, sash, tea, tree, boat, man. Man or guard? Hard to tell.
The sun had risen high above before the women began to drift away reluctantly. Lily looked up and saw Richard watching her from the door of their hut.
“How long have you been there?” she asked.
“Long enough. You’re teaching them English.” His expression looked grim.
Lily’s mouth tightened. “Do you find harm in that?” she demanded.
“No.” Still his expression didn’t soften. “English and did I hear Berber?”
“Some Turkish, a word or two of French. We’re exchanging.” Richard stared down at his feet deep in thought.
“They learn quickly. Most people do when given an opportunity,” Lily said into his silence. What bothers the man now?
“Could I?” he asked. Her eyes flew open wide. “Could you teach me Berber—or Turkish at least?” he said at last.
“I don’t know.”
His scowl in response would have frightened children.
“I mean I can try,” she rushed on. “You realize I don’t know much Berber, don’t you? I’ve just been picking it up.”
“You started ‘picking it up’ the moment Hamidou’s men burst into that filthy cell in Constantinople. You absorb it like a sponge. How do you do it?”
“I don’t know. It has always been so. I watch and listen. I observe how people act upon their words and their expressions. I listen to tone and inflection. People, in the end, aren’t all that different from one another.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me.
“Are you saying you can’t teach me?” he snapped.
Heaven help me, the Marble Marquess found something he can’t do easily, and he hates it. Is he resentful or just afraid to fail?
She pulled on his arm and put her hand over it as if they were about to enter a ballroom; she led him toward the rocky rise, this time approaching from the other direction, avoiding Volkov.
“That isn’t what I mean, Richard,” she told him. “I can teach you what little I know, but when you meet with Hamidou, I suspect you will hear words I don’t.”
His scowl softened. “If you stood at my side, the problem would disappear, but I won’t have you around those men if I can help it.”
Lily felt her mouth curve up. He would take my help if he could.
“You have to look past the surface, Richard. You care for your country. Hamidou cares for his people. Are you so very different? Watch how he talks to his men. Watch their expressions. Make educated guesses.”
“If I bring words back, you can help me ferret out the meaning.”
“That might work.” They began to climb. “What words concern you now, in English I mean. What should I watch for?”
He flicked a glance at the boy hunkered at the top of the hill. “Lookout,” he said. The corner of his mouth twitched, and Lily grinned broadly.
“What else?”
“Slave. Dealer.”
Lily’s heart sank. Yes, it might be good to watch for that.
“More.”
“Rescue, navy, ship—” Soon they had a list of a dozen words that worried Richard most. Lily began to consider ways she might introduce ideas with the women that would elicit the vocabulary she needed.
“Now, let me teach you the words I do know. They will help us ask for food if nothing else.”
He grinned finally. “That may prove useful. But let’s carry our lesson back to our hut.”
He stepped down the rocky path in front of her, holding one hand to steady her steps. He dropped his voice so it couldn’t be heard above the wind by anyone but Lily.
“One thing, though. Don’t teach any of the boys.”
She glanced up at the watcher on the hill and nodded.
Partway down, he hesitated again. He turned to her but did not meet her eyes. “Lily,” he began, “You—” He stopped and looked up. “That is, thank you. I can’t do this without you.” He turned on his heel, stepping quickly, and leaving Lily to trip and right herself.
What did that admission cost him? She wondered.
His retreating back looked stiff as a wooden plank.
A bubble of joy rose inside her, carrying one thought: he needs me.
It hummed through her as she strode down the hill after him until at last she stumbled down into the village.
The cluster of mud-brown hovels sobered her quickly.
First things first, Lily. You have to get off this island—and not into the markets in Tunis.