Chapter 15
T hey were barely through the gate before the sights, sounds and smells of Fes overwhelmed their senses. After coming through the gate, the group found themselves in an open marketplace. Omar and his men dismounted from their horses. Fatima, Rat and Melody followed suit.
“The alleyways are far too narrow to ride through,” Omar said. My men will take the horses. I think the boy should come with us.” Omar didn’t explain, but it made sense that they keep Mustafa close, given that he was their only witness to the near attack on Alessandro.
Everyone took their luggage, such as it was, and the men led the horses off while Omar directed everyone to follow him into the Medina proper.
Now that they were really in the Fes Medina, the alleyways were narrow with tall walls that felt rather claustrophobic. Most of the alleyways also had partially covered tops that just added to this feeling. The alleyways were made even more challenging to navigate because of the stalls set up on either side. It seemed that commerce didn’t stop after sunset, and shoppers and vendors haggled over everything under the sun. Melody had thought that the Medina in Casablanca had been a crazy, eclectic mix of offerings, but it was nothing compared to Fes. The smells rivalled the sights and sounds; a mix of exotic spices, freshly baked bread, leather from nearby tanneries, and wood smoke filled the air as well as less pleasant smells of donkey dung and freshly slaughtered meat.
Omar seemed to know where he was going, but Melody was nervous about getting separated from him in the press of people thronging the alleyways. She grabbed Rat’s hand and ensured that they were never more than a step behind Omar.
They had only been walking for a few minutes when Omar stopped beside a large wooden door covered in an intricate pattern of metal studs. Melody noticed something she had seen at Omar and Aksel’s riads: there seemed to be a door within the door.
Melody asked Omar what the second, smaller door was for. He laughed and said, “Ah, so you noticed that. We call the smaller door a khokha. It is primarily for everyday use. Only on special occasions or for the most esteemed guests is the larger, much heavier door opened.” As Omar said this, he rapped the large brass knocker on the khokha. As they waited, Omar explained, “I telegrammed ahead from Casablanca. This is the riad belonging to my friend of many years, Lahcen. He is a good man and is well-connected in Fes. The Pasha is his father’s cousin, in fact.”
As Omar said these words, the smaller door opened, and an aged, wizened servant greeted them. Omar spoke in what sounded like a Berber language, and after just a few words, the servant welcomed them into the riad.
Melody had thought the two riads she had been in so far had been opulent, but this one took her breath away. As with Aksel’s riad, the courtyard was decorated with mosaics and engraved carvings, but these were even more ornate than those had been. There were two additional stories rising above the courtyard, and the balustrade was a highly decorative ironwork. Intricate brass lamps hung from the ceilings of the area surrounding the courtyard, and smaller versions were on its walls.
As they entered the courtyard, Melody saw that the left side, under the overhang of the above storey, was filled with burgundy silk-covered couches set around a low table topped with beautiful mosaics. The entire setting was one of sumptuousness but also comfort. The servant led them over to a couch and then left, Melody assumed to get the requisite mint tea.
Their host, Lahcen, was a slim man with a long, expressive face that was quick to light up in a smile. It seemed that Omar had not seen his friend for many years, which was hardly surprising given the difficulty of the trip from Casablanca to Fes. Lahcen also spoke English fluently and was very welcoming to his guests. He was particularly deferential towards Fatima, which Melody assumed was because of her familial link to the Sultan.
Melody was pleasantly surprised to find that dinner that evening was not a tagine but, instead, something that Omar called a pastilla. Each person was served a round pastry. Melody was intrigued to see that it was topped with what looked like confectioners’ sugar and cinnamon applied in a pretty decoration. Was this dessert? Melody was too shy to ask the question and risk offending their host, so she was surprised when she cut into the pastilla to find that it had a chicken filling. The meat was shredded and mixed with slivered almonds and raisins. It also seemed to be sweetened with sugar and cinnamon. The pastilla was a curious but delicious dish.
As they had in Aksel’s home, Melody and Fatima had bathed, and their clothes had been taken to be laundered and replaced with beautiful silk robes. Melody appreciated that the loose costume was far more comfortable for sitting on low couches and cushions.
They finished their meal with dates, fruit, and mint tea. For most of the meal, Omar and Lahcen had been catching up on each other's news. Melody wondered what Omar had told his friend about why they were in Fes. She caught Rat’s eye, and he shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head; it seemed he was also curious.
It seemed that they would not learn that evening if and how Lahcen might be able to help them in their mission. Melody and Fatima each had a lavish room, and Melody’s sleep was as deep and refreshing as it had been in the previous riad. She luxuriated in the silk sheets, and it would have been tempting to spend the following morning napping if she hadn’t been so cognisant that Alessandro was likely already in Fes and in prison. They had no time to waste.
The breakfast feast was lavish. It included fruit and dates, various types of bread, and an intriguing item that resembled a pancake.
“That is a msemen,” Fatima explained, helping herself to one. Melody thought the msemen must be quite special to tempt Fatima to eat breakfast, given that she didn’t usually eat before noon. Melody also took one and followed Fatima’s lead in slathering it with butter and honey. She took her first bite of the msemen. It was delicious. While it resembled a pancake, it was more like a light, flaky flatbread.
Lahcen had not joined them for breakfast, but as they were finishing up and taking their last bites of the food and sips of mint tea, he entered the courtyard and came and sat on the couch.
“I have had word from the Pasha,” Lahcen said. “It seems that your friend is being held at the palace of the Sultan, may God bless him.”
“The palace?” Rat asked in a surprised tone. “Is that usual?”
Melody wondered the same thing, but she also noted that Lahcen had had time to send and receive such a message that morning. That indicated that Omar had found time to discuss Alessandro with his friend, even if he hadn’t done it over dinner. She wondered again how he had described the situation.
“It is not usual,” Lahcen agreed. “However, given your friend’s status, it is not unprecedented.”
Did this mean that Alessandro was in some dank dungeon under the palace or that his accommodation was more civilised? Melody wondered.
“Are we able to see him?” she asked.
“When I informed the Pasha that Lalla Fatima is one of your party and wishes to speak with the Sultan, may God bless him, he promised to send word from the palace as soon as possible. If you are able to speak with Conte Foscari, it will be at the whim of Al-Sultan, Amir al-Mu'minin.”
Yet again, Melody gave thanks that Fatima had accompanied them. Whatever the truth of the woman’s loyalties, they would not have had even a chance to plead Alessandro’s case to the Sultan without her as part of their group.
Now that they knew that they had to wait for word from the Pasha, there was no reason not to linger over breakfast. More mint tea was drunk, and the conversation meandered through local politics and gossip. Finally, when Melody was unsure how much longer she could wait for an answer, a servant came in and whispered in Lahcen’s ear.
“It seems that you are in luck,” he announced. “The Sultan will see you this afternoon. In deference to Lalla Fatima, you will receive a private audience.”
At his words, Fatima clapped her hands and stood. “In that case, we do not have long to shop.”
“What are we shopping for?” Melody asked.
“Appropriate attire for an audience with the Sultan,” Fatima explained with a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes. “Even if we had anything other than our travel clothes with us, we need to show our respect and deference to His Majesty by our costumes.” Turning to Lahcen, she asked, “Do you have someone who can guide us through the Medina?”
“I do. Her name is Hakima, and she will take you to the best stalls in the souq to buy what you need.” Turning back to the servant, he said something, including the name Hakima. The man nodded and left.
“I have sent word asking her to meet us here within the hour. Hakima acts as the Wakil for my wives. She knows all the best weavers, jewellers, and tanneries.”
“What is a Wakil?” Rat asked.
“A Wakil is an intermediary who procures the finest cloth and other fineries on behalf of women such as my wives. She will also be a superb guide through the souq.”
As promised, within twenty minutes, Hakima the Wakil was at the riad. She was a short, pleasantly plump woman with intelligent eyes and a kind smile. She had a no-nonsense way about her, and Melody did not doubt that they were in good hands. Rat did not have any appropriate clothes with him, and there was little chance of finding him a three-piece suit at such short notice. Hakima was unfazed by this and, with Fatima translating, assured them that they would return with an appropriate djellaba for Sidi Matthew.
Her worries about their meeting with the Sultan aside, Melody was excited about their shopping expedition. Just her brief glimpse at the edge of the Medina the day before had whetted her appetite to explore further. Melody, Fatima, and Hakima set off, accompanied by one of Lahcen’s male servants for protection. Melody had little doubt that Hakima was more than capable of handling whatever situation they encountered. However, it seemed that it was unheard of for young women, even European ones, to traverse the Medina without a male escort.
As they exited the riad, Hakima looked down the street thoughtfully as if plotting their route. She spoke no English, so Fatima translated from Arabic: “She says that we’ll need shoes, robes, headscarves, and jewellery.”
“Jewellery?” Melody questioned. “Is that really necessary?”
“It is vital that we represent our rank and status as highly as possible,” Fatima explained. “At the very least, we will need multiple bangles, rings, a bold necklace, and earrings.” If that was the least, Melody hated to imagine what the most was.
After an exhausting but productive three hours, the women had chosen caftans, wide, ornate belts, the largest, most extravagant necklace and earrings Melody had ever worn, and beautiful silk headdresses with jewellery attached.
Hakima had proven to be a methodical navigator of the Medina and a savvy negotiator. Melody had no idea what the woman had said to all the merchants she haggled with, but there seemed to be a lot of handwringing and pleading, followed by acceptance of the woman’s offer.
Melody was particularly enamoured of the buttery, soft leather slip-on shoes she had chosen. Backless with a distinctive pointed toe, they were dyed a vibrant shade of magenta and embroidered with gold thread onto which little pearls were woven. Even the slippers she had worn to her last ball were not as beautiful or comfortable as these shoes.
The caftan was made from beautiful gold silk and had delicate embroidered flowers on the skirt and sleeves. It was as lavish, if not more so, than the most exquisite Worth gown. The jewellery was all much bolder and more ornate than anything Melody had ever worn. She could only imagine what Granny would have to say about a young, unmarried woman flaunting herself in such showy pieces. Of course, she could only imagine what Granny would have to say about the entire outfit!
By the time Hakima led them back through the labyrinth of the Medina with the servant carrying all the packages, they had barely an hour before it was time to leave for the palace. This was just enough time to eat a light snack, wash off the dirt of the Medina, and put on their new clothes.