Princess Sultana's Daughters

Kareem answered, his
voice causing me to doubt his words even as he spoke them.
    I was quiet, waiting for the news I was not
sure I wanted to hear.
    “Sultana, I am coming home. Together, we will
tell Abdullah what has happened.”
    “What happened?” I screamed, thinking that I
could not bear to wait for Kareem to make the twenty-five-minute
drive from his office to our home.
    I heard a click and the line went dead. I
told myself that my husband’s news must be dreadful, for Kareem,
like most Arabs, had a habit of putting aside unpleasant truths
until the last possible moment.
    Fouad had told my husband little, only that
there had been a minor scuffle in Jafer and Fayza’s hotel room, and
that Jafer had been left unconscious but without serious
injury.
    Fayza? Naturally, his daughter had been
traumatized by the incident and was now at their palace under
sedation. Without the influence of Jafer, Fouad believed his
daughter would quickly return to her senses.
    I looked at Kareem and announced with
certainty, “Jafer is dead!”
    “Nonsense. They were in America.”
    Two weeks later we received a telephone call
from Jafer, who had returned to Lebanon, and we finally learned the
truth of the matter.
    Jafer’s words to me were, “All is lost.” He
paused. “Except for my skin, which is safe.”
    “Abdullah!” I called out. “It is Jafer! Come
quickly!”
    Kareem, Maha, and I circled Abdullah as he
spent long moments quietly listening to his dearest friend,
comforting the caller with reassurances. “What could you do? You
had no choice.”
    With a start, I heard my son say, “I am
coming!” stating that he would soon be on his way to Lebanon, that
nothing could keep him from his friend’s side.
    I grabbed Abdullah’s arms and began to shake
my head no, vigorously.
    My feet left the floor as Kareem yanked me
from my son’s face.
    Abdullah put the telephone on hold. With
tears running down his face, my son buried his head in his hands
and began to weep bitter tears. His words were muffled, difficult
to understand.“Jafer is ruined! He is ruined!”
    “What is this about Lebanon?” I inquired, too
agitated at the thought of Abdullah traveling to that country to
consider Jafer’s condition.
    “Hush, Sultana,” Kareem ordered.
    Abdullah finally calmed himself and explained
how Fouad and his sons had taken Fayza from Jafer.
    The telephone call had awakened them in the
night. Fayza’s father and brothers were in the lobby. “Could they
come up, please?” Fouad’s tone was civil; Jafer was encouraged and
felt no fear of physical assault.
    When Jafer opened the door, he felt pleased
and smiled.
    Fouad and his sons took no time to talk.
Provoked by Jafer’s smiling face, which he now feared they had
mistaken for a smirk, Fayza’s brothers set upon him. Caught by
surprise, Jafer was no match for four men.
    Jafer said he was hit on the head with a
heavy object, and blackness overcame him.
    Hours later, when he revived, his new bride
and her male relatives were gone.
    Jafer said he knew all was lost once they had
stolen Fayza away from him. He was well aware that it is illegal in
Saudi Arabia for a Saudi girl to marry a man who is not a Saudi
national. He could receive no legal assistance in claiming Fayza as
his own, despite their married state, for their union was not
recognized in Saudi Arabia. Had Jafer been a Saudi and Fayza a
Palestinian, there would have been no difficulty, for Saudi men can
marry whom they wish.
    In spite of that knowledge, Jafer flew to
London, making a desperate attempt to reenter the kingdom, but was
told that his resident’s visa was no longer valid.
    Jafer, having feared Kareem’s scorn, now
overcame his fear and asked to speak to my husband. He wondered if
Kareem, with his princely status, could help?
    Kareem said he could but would not. Now that
he knew Jafer was alive, he had no intention of placing him in a
position that would ensure his murder. Kareem warned Jafer that
Fouad and his sons would certainly kill him if he returned to the
kingdom.
    Kareem had never said so, but I knew he would
never forgive Jafer for his deception. My husband had suffered
acute embarrassment because a trusted employee had conquered and
stolen the beloved only daughter of his long-time friend and
partner. Only his intense love for Abdullah had kept him
silent.
    Never one to promise more than he could give,
Kareem recommended that Jafer try to find a life for himself in
Lebanon, now that it