After a night of restless sleep and lurid dreams I sat just within my door where my shame could not be seen, and watched and listened to the furore as the other women prepared to enjoy the great day. The harem was emptying. Even the drunken Hatia, swathed in red linen, her pallid face garishly painted, paced unsteadily in and out of my vision, her body servant behind her, as she waited for the summons to the litters. The occasion seemed to infect the precincts with a kind of hysteria. Children cried, harried servants exchanged sharp words as they rushed to and fro, and the high, shrill voices of the inmates filled the air like the senseless gibberish of a flock of agitated birds. Disenk hovered at my rear, silently passing me water that did not seem to quench my thirst and fruit that stuck in my throat. I was not particularly disappointed at missing the festivities. I would have had to stand under the tenuous shade of my gauze canopy for hours, my feet aching, the sweat gathering under my fine sheath, the metal of my jewellery burning against my skin.
