Princess Sultana's Circle

craving
for alcohol that I was now experiencing.
    I shuddered. Fearful of
what my future might hold if my secret was ever exposed, I promised
myself that Kareem must never know that I was consuming alcohol in
the morning hours. I had understood long ago that my strength and
boldness were the arrows that had pierced my husband’s heart and
drawn him to me. Surely, the foundation on which our love was based
would crumble should Kareem discover my weakness.
    Horrified at the turn my
life had taken, I vowed that I would overcome this progressive and
dangerous desire for alcohol. I began to recite the ninety-nine
names of Allah aloud, hoping that, by proving my devoutness, the
God of all Muslims would take pity on me, and give me added
strength to defeat my weakness. My lips moved as I whispered the
words, “The Compassionate, The Merciful, The Sovereign, The Holy,
The Giver of Peace, The Protector, The Mighty One, The Creator, the
Majestic, The Great Forgiver…”
    My sincere devotions were
interrupted by a hysterical Maha. My daughter said that Munira had
just telephoned in tears. The poor girl had confirmed to Maha what
I had already expected, that she had good reason for her silence on
the day her uncles had visited. Munira said that Ali had threatened
to beat both her mother and herself if she dared to open her mouth
in protest about her engagement to Hadi.
    Poor Munira also confided
that her daily prayers now consisted of pleas to God for an early
death before her wedding date.
    It was then that memories
of Sara’s attempted suicide caused me to rise from my bed. In
coalition with Maha, I discarded one risky proposal to rescue the
bride after another. Finally, we concluded that a simple plan was
best. We decided to hide Munira in our home at Jeddah until Hadi
became so mortified by the reluctance of his young bride that he
would nullify their engagement.
    I eagerly telephoned Sara
and told her to come quickly! I was hoping that I could induce my
most intelligent sister to join us in devising further
strategy.
    When Sara arrived, she
bewildered me when she balked at the idea, even warning me that she
felt compelled to alert Kareem of my reckless objective.
    “ Sara!” I admonished, “You
once traveled the same path as poor Munira. Do your own memories of
abuse not compel you to help save this girl?”
    Sara appeared frozen in
place.
    “ Sara?”
    Sara’s brooding face belied
the calm tone of her voice. “Sultana,” she confessed, “every day of
my life is clouded by what happened during that time. Even when I
am most happy with Asad, a sliver of pain always works its way into
my consciousness.” She paused briefly. “If I could save Munira from
such a fate, I would do it. But only God can save Munira, Sultana.
Only God.”
    “ God gave women cunning
minds in order to scheme,” I argued. “How else can we defeat the
evil nature of men?”
    Sara placed a light hand on
my shoulder. “You may have the years of a woman on you, my sister,
but in many ways, you are still a child.”
    I turned away, so
disappointed and angry that I could not speak.
    “ Come, Sultana. Try to
think clearly for one moment, and you will realize that anything
you might do to conceal Munira will only serve to make our brother,
and Hadi, even more determined. If you hide Munira, they will find
her. Then, Hadi will marry her anyway, but by that time his heart
will be filled with anger and bitterness. Her life will only be
worsened by your efforts.”
    Like the caged bird that
finally comes to acceptance of its captivity, the lightness of hope
left my body. I collapsed on the sofa and wrapped my arms around my
body. Sara spoke the truth, so, for now, I put aside all thoughts
of extricating my niece. I knew that excluding a miracle, Munira
would be Hadi’s future wife. And there was nothing any of us could
do about it.
    After Sara departed for her
own home, I returned to my bed and spent the rest of the day
lethargic with hopelessness.
    Nine days passed as
fleetingly as mere moments. The evening of Munira’s wedding
arrived, all too soon.
    Although Ali possessed no
love for his eldest daughter, his position as a high-ranking Prince
ensured that Munira’s wedding would be a grandiose occasion,
indeed. The celebration and wedding were to take place at the King
Faisal Hall, a large building in Riyadh where many Saudi royal
weddings have been staged.
    On the night of the
wedding, a stream of limousines wove their way to the entrance