KoC: Untitled Laila & Kaif

As evening approached, and began to cast its shadow over the quieting camp, Kaif lit the lamps, so that they would have a little light until the weariness of the day won over their resolve to stay awake. His slave had risen with him, attempting to aid the lighting of the lamps, but the bronze lights were unlike any she had been accustomed to, and it proved a difficult task for her. Kaif smiled, watching her as she apprehensively lifted the lid of one of the lamps. The naked flame inside cast a warm glow to her cheeks, and he appreciated fully, perhaps for the first time, just how beautiful she was.

Once there was sufficient light inside the tent, they reclaimed their previous positions; master seated by the foot of his bed, and slave near the opposite corner. But he thought that this time she positioned herself a little nearer to the centre of the space, tucking her legs beneath her demurely as before. They had spent much of the late afternoon in light conversation, while Kaif washed and dressed. Words did not come so easily now to him, now that they were seated again as before. Kaif had opened his mouth to speak when heard soft footsteps outside the tent, and turned to look towards the entrance, unsure of who it could be. He glanced at Laila in warning, and she withdrew again into her corner, her expression anxious.

“My Lord Kaif, it is I, Shaadiya,” spoke a woman’s voice from outside, and Laila looked relieved.

“You may enter,” said Kaif, feeling irritated at himself for forgetting that the Sultan’s slave often brought him his evening meals. The woman entered, bearing a large silver tray laden with a variety of dishes.

The woman looked at Laila with a kind eye before setting the tray upon the low table in the middle of the tent. “The Sultan hopes you will enjoy your supper,” she said, and backed out of the room quietly.

After a few moments passed, Kaif looked at his slave mildly. “You must be hungry. Come and eat.”

Laila stood fully up and smooth her wrinkly clothing. It was the same clothing she wore the night before and slept in. She smoothed her hair down as much as she could and slowly walked to the table her master sat at. She was not used to eating at the same table with her master and she felt unsure of herself.

She slowly and gingerly sat down across from Kaif. Wondering if she should serve him the strange food or if he was going to serve her. In a normal situation the slave always served the master. But Laila didn’t know the food well here or how to serve it. She frowned as she slowly reached for the bowl of rice that was in front of her and held up a spoon to server her master.

“No,” said Kaif, gently pushing away Laila’s hand. “Serve yourself first. I am capable of eating without your help,” he jested, smiling a little.

Laila ducked her head and blushed slightly at his jest. Then, lifting the spoon into the bowl and lifting the rice out, she dumped a small portion on her plate. Unsure of how to eat it or what to eat it with. She frowned and looked at her master for guidance. When she was with Saladin, Shaadiya always served her ad she was to frightened to watch the older woman in guidance.

Kaif, noting her apprehension about these unfamiliar eating customs, took a smaller spoon and offered it to her. “You eat it with this.” Her cheeks colored slightly as she took the spoon from his hand. The girl’s awkwardness was amusing to Kaif, who had never seen anyone quite so anxious over dining etiquette before. He took some of the rice in his bowl, along with the plain stew of mutton and vegetables, which had been the staple diet for the soldiers. The tray also bore fresh fish from the Red Sea , a rare luxury for those at the siege, as well as flat bread of fine white flour, and a variety of the fruit native to the region. Kaif saw her looking at the fruit inquisitively. No doubt she had never seen anything like it in her homeland.

Laila looked up at Kaif after steadying the fruit and then stared at the stew and at the fresh fish. She closed her eyes as she saw the fish and stew with mutton in it. Even when she was with Tubort she didn’t at meat. She touched the rice slightly with her spoon and then followed in Kaif’s stead and also took the stew of mutton and vegetables as well as fruit and fish onto her tray and a slice of bread.

Then she took her spoon and dipped it into the stew to slowly take a bite, but before it reached her mouth she cringed and put it down. Whipping it off as best she could she went for the rice instead.

“You don’t eat meat,” observed Kaif, his voice edged with curiosity.

Laila dropped her spoon and shook her head no. Her cheeks turning red slightly as she looked at her master hoping that this wasn’t a bad thing and that she wouldn’t have to eat meat. She cringed again at the thought of eating meat.

“ No sir.” She said softly. “ Meat clouds the mind.” She whispered frowning at the dreaded fish.

“Then you need not eat it,” he said, pulling Laila’s bowl away and replacing it with a new one. “You may eat what you like. Perhaps if these foods do not please you, I can ask for others?”

Laila stared at Kaif. Her spoon was at a stand still half way to her mouth with fruit dripping off it. She turned slightly pale for some reason and then her cheeks colored. She couldn’t believe that her new master was willing to make amends for her. He was willing to order food she liked and wanted to eat. She didn’t have to eat meat? Her dark eyes grew wide and then she shook her head. “ No, no. This is fine. I ate fruits and breads and vegitables in…” Laila stopped and stuck the spoon with the fruit on it in her mouth lowering her eyes trying not to think of home.

Kaif watched as she silenced herself once more. She was still afraid...afraid of what he, as her master, thought of her past. He looked down, suddenly losing his appetite. He had once been sure that she was a Hashshashin spy. Now, he was uncertain, and it frightened him to think that he had come so close, on several occassions, to discarding his vigilance. He remained silent, searching for words of comfort, which felt all the more forced now, after such thoughts.

She looked back up at Kaif and swallowed. She wondered what he thought of her. What was she supposed to think of him. She was not used to having so much time on her own to think of her own thoughts. To feel human again instead of an animal. She looked away. “ In Glastonbury .” She finished as she turned her eyes back towards Kaif. “ My father, was a very important man there. A pagan as you can guess. Why else would the crusaders attack us?” She whispered her eyes brimming with tears and she looked down. If he was going to hurt her, he would have, she thought. It was best to tell him right off who and what she was. She lifted her teary eyes back up towards Kaif’s searching them.

Knitting his brows, Kaif avoided her gaze. "Please, do not cry," he said, feeling his words were strained and unnatural. “Whatever was in your past is behind you now.” He stopped, watching as she composed herself a little. For the briefest of moments, he felt sorry that he had such control over her behaviour, that she would obey anything he commanded…but he was, after all, her master.

Laila sat still for a few minutes swallowing the tears and ducking her head down. She slowly laid down her spoon and lost her appetite. She needed to grieve to forgive and forget the past. Yet it seemed as if no one would let her do this. She sighed. No one wanted a teary eyed slave. The next time she looked at Kaif her eyes were clear of tears and her face was expressionless. Once again, she put up that stone wall around her so she would be whatever it was her master wanted. Growing quite, she slowly continued to eat her food. Though she was not hungry.

Disguising the guilt he felt for suppressing her emotions under a frown, Kaif fiddled childishly with the torn end of his tunic. Raising an eye discreetly as a silence descended on the tent, he noticed that she only picked at her food gingerly. It was entirely his fault…it felt as though she had been more relaxed in his company this evening, and his lack of empathy had destroyed that short-lived triumph. But why did it concern him so much whether or not this miserable slave girl was comfortable with him—especially when she was, in all likelihood, unworthy of his trust? But no…even if she was the spy whom he dreaded so anxiously, her unhappiness would not do. If it was aimed at wearing down his resolve, then so be it.

“Perhaps,” began Kaif, looking up with a pleasanter expression on his face, “Perhaps you would like to go outside tomorrow? I hate to think of you as a prisoner inside this tent all day.”

Laila’s dark eyes lit up at the prospect of going outside. When she had been a free person, she had lived outdoors. She had always been tramping all over the hillside of Glastonbury. When she had been captured by Turbert, he had never let her outside.

“I would greatly enjoy that.” She said her eyes full of hope.

Heartened by the brightness of her eyes at his suggestion, Kaif gazed at her warmly, watching as she turned her head towards the far side of the tent. She seemed to be lost in memories...but pleasant ones it seemed. So she could not take happiness from the present...that was not so remarkable. She was, after all, the belonging of a man whom she neither knew nor loved, slave to any whim he might possess. But a part of him wished that it was not so.

“Good. I will take you outside the camp tomorrow, perhaps to the hills to the east. From there, you will see Kerak and all the land around us,” replied Kaif, and she turned her gaze to meet his. When he remembered that scarcely three days ago, she could only look at him when ordered, he felt the momentarily forgotten suspicion flicker once more inside him. If she was the spy, so be it. He no longer cared what end he might meet. He was willing to let himself be charmed by this girl, and in doing so, throw caution, and perhaps his own life, into the wind.