Wild Jasmine Read Free Page B

little arms about Mariam Makani’s neck, kissed her cheek.
    “Let me look at you! Let me look at you!” her grandmother said, unwrapping the arms that embraced her. Yasaman pirouetted gracefully. “Ahh, yes,” Mariam Makani noted. “You have grown taller since my last visit, my child. Are you studying hard? Your father is a great believer in education. He has educated not only your brothers, but your older sisters as well.”
    “Yes, Grandmother, I am studying very hard,” Yasaman assured her. “I can do my numbers. I am learning the history of our people. I am also learning French and Portuguese, as well as English, which I am told was Candra Begum’s language.”
    “Who has your sire chosen for your tutor, my child?” Mariam Makani demanded, her black eyes curious.
    “He is a priest, Grandmother. His name is Father Cullen Butler, and he is a great deal of fun; not at all like that sour old Father Xavier and the other priests. Father Cullen laughs at Baba, my monkey, and the naughty things he does. He even brings Baba treats and does not call him the devil’s own spawn, as does Father Xavier,” Yasaman told her earnestly. “Baba ate Father Xavier’s rosary. It made him sick for a day.”
    “I do not like these Christians that my son has allowed into our land,” Mariam Makani said.
    “They hold no more power over my lord Akbar than do the mullahs or the priests of the Buddhists, the Hindus, or the Jains,” Rugaiya Begum reassured her mother-in-law, and taking her by the arm, she led her into the palace. “Come and let us have some refreshment, my gracious lady.”
    “Salim!” the old woman called, and he hurried to her side. “Are you well, my boy? And your wives and children?”
    “All well, Grandmother. I thank you for asking. May I say how happy I am to see you so blooming with health and vigor. You have yet the beauty of a young woman.” He kissed her cheek.
    “Flatterer!” She chuckled, but she was pleased by the flattery. “Are you to take refreshment with us then?”
    “When the lady Rugaiya Begum told me of your visit, I would not go until I had seen you. Yes, I will be pleased to take refreshment with you,” Salim told her.
    They sat by a long reflecting pool that ran almost the entire length of the entry hall. Above them soft light filtered through the latticed jasper set into the bottom of the dome that capped the palace. Great porcelain tubs decorated with blue designs lined the walls of the lovely little hall. Long-leafed cardamom with its sprays of blue and white-lipped yellow-green flowers, as well as yellow, cream, and white ginger lilies, their long-tubed flowers sweetly scenting the air, filled the tubs. A golden chandelier hung down and, in the evenings, lit the entry. So the room had been in the time of Candra, and so it had remained, but for the couches Rugaiya Begum had placed near the water, along with several small, low, brass and ebony tables.
    The servants, soft-footed and discreet in their white robes, brought out platters upon which were set slices of fresh melon, pomelos, and small bananas, as well as little pastries made from chopped nuts, shredded coconut, and honey. Blue and white porcelain cups of Assam tea, made even more fragrant by the addition of cloves, were passed around. There were tiny bowls of pistachio and pine nuts. Yasaman sat curled up within her eldest brother’s embrace. She giggled as he fed her bits of sweetmeats and as he nibbled at her fingers when she, in turn, pressed bits of fruit and pastry upon him.
    “It is good to see the love between the eldest and the youngest,” their grandmother noted with a smile.
    “He spoils her too much,” Rugaiya Begum said, “as does her father when he comes to see her.”
    “When my son is no longer here, Yasaman will have a powerful ally and protector in her brother Salim,” Mariam Makani answered her daughter-in-law wisely.
    “Yasaman will be long married by that day,” Rugaiya Begum replied.