kingdom of nations

Chapter 143 On the Road to Apollo (8)

When people read history, they often have a misconception; they tend to assume, in a wishful way, that people back then acted, lived, and entertained themselves like puppets, strictly following the laws set by the church and the king.

Of course, that's not the case. They are human beings with flesh and blood, feelings and desires, just like us. And when someone wants to achieve their goals, they will always find all sorts of excuses, or exploit any loopholes they can find.

In Saracen law, kings and scholars have always maintained a cautious and conservative attitude towards the degree of female exposure. This exposure refers not only to the physical but also to the mind and thoughts, which are equally strictly controlled.

Even though the Saracens allowed girls to read and write, they would praise women who were exceptionally talented and learned. But they did not hope that these girls would become warriors or scholars; rather, they hoped that they would become better daughters, wives, and mothers. Their talents were no different from the jewels adorning them or the silks wrapping their beautiful bodies; they were simply used to enhance their intrinsic value.

Like Christians or the women of Isaac, they were not allowed to enter temples, let alone be chosen. Most of them spent their lives confined to their homes or the harem. Even if they were allowed to hold banquets, the guests were noble ladies of equal status.

When they went out—if necessary—they had to wear veils and loose robes, and be "protected" by male relatives or eunuchs. They could not freely contact a man with whom they had no blood relation—otherwise, they would face extremely harsh punishment or even death.

No matter how much the Saracens claim to respect women, these few strict laws alone mean that their respect will always remain superficial. Or rather, even this shallow respect is limited to upper-middle-class Saracen women. For lower-class Saracen women, their lives still have little to offer in terms of sweetness.

Moreover, no matter how strict Saracen law was, its power could not reach pagans and slaves. The Saracen "Qiyan" occupied both identities at the same time. Most of them were pagan women who were captured, and they often had a master, who may be rich or poor - yes, even a farm owner may have five or six female slaves.

These female slaves would serve the Sultan like concubines in a harem. They always said there was love between these female slaves and the Saracens—but we all know that when swords are at your throat, you'd better bow your head.

In large cities like Damascus, keeping female slaves even became a lucrative business.

These women, whom we previously referred to as "Qiyan," were the most promising talents selected from the slave market by discerning Saracen merchants. After buying them at a reasonable price, they could become popular songstresses or poetry slaves with just two or three years of education and training.

As the name suggests, a songstress is a female slave with a melodious voice or graceful dance. A poetry slave is a cut above them; she must not only be able to sing and dance, but also possess a certain level of literary knowledge, be able to comment on the poems recited by guests, and even be able to compose poems herself.

Of course, their poems often lack depth, basically revolving around love and desire; they are less literary works and more a means to pique the interest of their guests.
After all, the Saracens people have a deep love for poetry, a habit shared by many tribal peoples—before they had their own written language, all their history and culture needed to be expressed and passed down through poetry. Even now, with a large number of translated texts and their own unique collections, they remain quite enthusiastic about writing poetry.

A general could write poetry, a minister could write poetry, a craftsman could write poetry, or a farmer could write poetry. They used poetry to express their heroism, to dedicate their piety, or to strengthen their will, or perhaps to mock their enemies—poetry, like the bread and karak tea of ​​the Saracens, was indispensable to them every day.

At this time, the most famous female poet in Damascus was the "beautiful" Leila, who was being madly infatuated with Lazis.

Laila is certainly not her real name. This name appears more often in Saracen legends—a love story in which a young girl named Laila falls in love with a boy she has known since childhood. However, Laila's father believes that their love violates religious doctrine. Although the two are of equal social standing and are deeply in love, he insists on marrying Laila off to another person.

The young man was devastated and from then on, he either practiced asceticism in the desert or recited his poems until his death. Although this story may have been a nightmare for Layla, people generally agree that to win a man's unwavering love for decades, Layla must have been an exceptionally beautiful woman.

Therefore, many "beautiful women" in Damascus used the name Leila, but none of them were more admired and pursued by scholars than Leila. She once wrote a poem for a former guest who died on the battlefield.

"I swear, since his death..."
I will no longer weep for the heroes who died in battle.
If a young person is born without fault,

Therefore, death was by no means a disgrace to him.

Everything new and young will perish.
Everyone will one day return to God.

Although the poem still cannot escape the clichés of love, it must be said that the emotions and meanings it contains are enough to touch the hearts of men. They compete to give her gifts, from gold to silk, hoping to meet her. But Leila will not grant everyone's request, even if they just want to have a cup of tea with her, meet her, listen to her play the oud, or recite a poem.

In her words, meeting another man once was tantamount to betraying her master once. Even for her master's sake, her heart still ached as if it were being burned on a fire.

This is, of course, a common tactic used by "glamorous" women to enhance their own value and stimulate men's competitive spirit, and it is indeed effective. When César and Joël Froy arrived at Leila's house wanting to see her, they were politely refused by the gatekeeper.

They said that today Leila had accepted the scholar Lazis's request to enjoy the moonlight, taste honey water, and appreciate poetry with him. Indeed, the faint sounds of the oud, the naïve, and the daff could be heard emanating from the house; the firelight flickered, and shadows danced—the feast had begun. At this time, the arrival of an uninvited guest would surely spoil the mood for everyone present.

But Cesar and Geoffroy didn't have much time; they had to depart tomorrow. If they couldn't find Lazis tonight and ask to borrow and copy the medical books on leprosy, they would have to wait until their return. And on their return journey, Damascus might not be so welcoming and accommodating. After all, they were guests of Camar for now—Geoffroy hissed beside them. He was a veteran of the brothels; before joining the Knights Templar, he had frequented brothels of all sizes throughout the city, and he knew the temperaments and preferences of the "beautiful women" inside and out.

Although they did have to consider that if they disturbed Laila and Lazis's appointment, it would backfire—Lazis was also a scholar, and his great-grandfather was Ibn Sina, the most famous healer among the Saracens. He can be said to have laid the foundation of medicine in the Saracen world by himself. His works, such as the Canon of Medicine, Treatise on Healing, and Treatise on Epistemology, are even preserved by the Christian Church, but are not known to most people.

As a descendant of this renowned scholar, Lazis did not inherit his ancestor's medical talent, but he could still earn respect through Ibn Sina's legacy and his love and protection of medical texts. Out of consideration for Kamal, he might overlook their impudence, but don't expect a disgruntled fellow to open his treasure trove and let them choose as they pleased.

Frois, however, was confident. He knew, of course, that for a “glamorous” woman, gold, jewels, and silk were the key to success, but there was something else that could also pique their interest, turn their anger into joy, and even generously grant them various favors.

He turned slightly to the side and pushed Cesar, who was standing in the shadows, forward, exposing him to the torchlight. The gatekeeper's pupils widened instantly, just like everyone who saw Cesar for the first time; he was so shocked that he was speechless.

“We don’t expect you to let us in immediately,” Geoffroy said politely. “But if your hostess finds out you’ve refused such a guest, a sharp little thorn might grow in her heart, and it might prick you at any time.”

I said, "Why don't you report this to her and let her decide what to do?"

These words were indeed reasonable. After recovering from his shock, the gatekeeper pondered the matter carefully, then spoke to his companion before turning back into the house to report to his master.

Soon, perhaps only a quarter of the time it takes for a candle to burn out, the gatekeeper hurried out of the house and invited them in for a while.

As the city's most famous "beauty," Leila's house was naturally extremely rich, luxurious, and decadent. Although, like most buildings, it had a square courtyard in front of it, there was a gleaming fountain in the center of the courtyard, with a cherry tree growing above it, and plump little birds perched on the tree and by the pool.

As they approached, they discovered that the cherry tree was not real. It had branches made of black iron, with bright red glass cherries hanging from it, each with emerald green silk leaves and gilded stems.

Although the birds were made of clay, they were covered with real bird feathers. These feathers had become somewhat dull after being separated from living bodies, but under the moonlight and candlelight, they still revealed their vibrant colors and unique luster.

The courtyard is not paved with ordinary soil and bricks, but with marble and exquisite mosaics. The patterns resemble octopus tentacles or vine tendrils, extending from the fountain to every corner.

The cloisters that encircle the garden resemble a magnificent ribbon, with brass chandeliers hanging from the multi-leaved archways, some burning pure olive oil and others releasing fragrant spices.

Light, shadows, and smoke transform this place into a magnificent labyrinth, making one feel as if they have entered another world—a world so beautiful that everyone would be captivated by it and find it hard to leave.

Led by the slaves, they arrived at a large room that could hold a hundred people. The room was covered with intricately patterned and brightly colored carpets, layer upon layer, thick and soft. When you walked on them, it was hard to feel the hardness and coldness of the stone underneath. The walls were also decorated with geometric patterns of different colors, as well as wood carvings and text.

This is similar to temples, except that in temples these texts are solemn scriptures or proverbs, while here they are naked and passionate love poems and related stories.

Of course, Lyra wasn't the only "beauty" here. Her maids or other "beauties" who had been invited were lounging on soft, fluffy velvet pillows, chatting and laughing with the male guests around them, playing the oud, beating a small drum, or lazily sharing a pot of hookah with their guests. There were about a dozen male guests here, and it was difficult to tell which one was Lazis at first glance, but Lyra was easy to spot.

She stood in the center of the room, taller than the average woman. Her features were sharp, truly sharp—a description rarely found on other women. She had a high-bridged nose and full, moist lips. Like all "beautiful women," she wore neither a veil nor a robe that would conceal her curves. She also wore no headscarf—her white hair shimmered with a pearly sheen, and her eyes were a terrifying crimson.

She is an albinist.

Leila may not be the most beautiful of these "exquisite" women, but her unique color and demeanor make it clear at first glance that what people say is true, and she is entirely worthy of such fervent infatuation from a scholar.

Leila was quite surprised when she saw Cesar. She had already glanced at the young man from the terrace and thought he was like a portrait painted with precious pigments, so that even after many years, he was still as vibrant as ever.

But we all know that in dim light and at a great distance, some imperfections can be concealed and blurred. Yet now, they were only a hand's breadth apart, close enough to touch, and Lyra still couldn't find any flaws in him.

She remained silent for a long time, then sighed softly, and turned to the man lying in the arms of a female slave with a charming smile, saying, "I once heard that there was a famous courtesan named Flora in ancient Rome who was exonerated because of her beauty, but at that time I did not believe it. How could the beauty of a mortal offset the sin of blasphemy? Now I believe it."

(End of this chapter)