Princess Sultana's Circle

maintain rapidly vanished when I saw the name of my own father!
I held my hand against my mouth to keep from crying out as I
quickly read over a litany of vile deeds attributed to him. My
heart sank, for I suspected that some of the denunciations could
easily be true. Overcome with sad thoughts of my father, I looked
at the faces of my husband and child. A hundred questions rose in
my mind, but one look at Kareem’s drawn face and my questions died
on my lips.
    However, Amani bravely
burst out, “Father, is this true?” She gripped tightly to the
document she was showing Kareem. “Does our Al Sa’ud family arrest
children?”
    Her query brought me to my
feet. Looking over Amani’s shoulder, I softly read, “Last week Fahd
Al-Mushaiti, age 11 years, and Mansour Al-Buraydi, age 12 years,
were detained in Buraydi and charged with carrying leaflets that
had angered Al Sa’ud. It would seem that the Al Sa’ud’s have
conveniently forgotten that they are repeating the crimes of Saddam
Hussein, against whom they have previously fought. They have also
forgotten that their newspapers, even today, still criticize his
actions.”
    Our defiant daughter
persisted, “Father, answer me, does our family really arrest
children?”
    Kareem withdrew the
document from Amani’s hand. He did not answer.
    A tearful Amani persisted,
“Father?”
    Kareem began stuffing the
papers back into the briefcase. In a flat voice he retorted, “You
know that our enemies lie.”
    “ Much of what I read was
true, Husband.”
    Seething like a pot on a
hot fire, Kareem flashed an angry look in my direction.
    “ But greatly exaggerated,
of course.” I added quickly.
    Kareem then tried to
recover every document, but I hid the ones in my hands behind my
back. “I want to read one particular section again,” I said. “I’ll
return them to you later in the evening.”
    After inhaling several
deep, ragged breaths, Kareem turned his attention back to Amani. “I
won’t ask you to name who provided you with these documents, but
only on the condition that you banish these people from your
life.”
    Amani’s voice was shrill.
“But, Father, she’s my friend!”
    “ This is an order, child! I
will not have my own daughter fraternizing with our
enemies!”
    Amani began to weep, but
Kareem did not soften his stance. “Amani?”
    After some moments, she
gave her word, “I promise, Father.”
    Frightened into submission,
Amani whispered in her father’s ear before receiving a heartfelt
embrace, and left the room.
    Kareem’s penetrating eyes
were now turned on me. He mimicked the sound of my voice, “Much of
what I read was true, Husband!” He glowered, “A wife who upholds
her husband is a great treasure, Sultana!”
    Only recently had I learned
that a cunning warrior knows when to retreat. Unable to rival
Kareem’s intense fury, and fearful of provoking him even further, I
hurried from the room.
    Kareem stormed out of the
palace. When he did not return for our evening meal, I knew that I
would not see him again until late.
    I looked in on the children
and found that an unusually subdued Amani had retired early. Maha
was talking on the telephone.
    I stared at the clock and
waited for my husband. As I waited, I read once more the
vituperative accusations against many prominent members of my
family. I read of allegations of adulterous behavior, theft, acts
of repression, false arrests, and arrogant disregard for the
responsibilities of the elevated station that we Al Sa’uds had been
fortunate to inherit.
    My suspicion that there was
truth in these allegations depressed me. This depressed state of
mind soon led me to imagine that Kareem was at that moment in the
arms of another woman. Many Al Sa’ud princes are guilty of bringing
women of questionable moral character into our country for the
illicit sexual pleasure they offer. Haunted by visions of my
beloved caressing another, I began to wander restlessly around the
room. In an outburst of frustration, I smashed a crystal vase
against the wall. Even this provided no relief, and I began to
cry.
    Sleep escaped me. Just as I
finally closed my eyes, the light shining through the cracks
between the window shades revealed that it was dawn.
    Kareem did not return home
until midmorning.
    I was preparing to
telephone Kareem’s brother, Asad, when my husband walked through
the door. Despite his red-rimmed eyes, Kareem had the expression of
a man who was merely returning from a routine