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whispered that his two daughters wished to speak with him before he left the house. Samar and Sakina had heard the news about the trip to the palace from their sons and they assumed their father intended to ease the transfer of lands to the boys. So the brazenfaced women greeted their father cheerfully, showering him with honeyed words and asking his permission to return to their homes in Siracusa. A cold anger gripped him and made him unable to reply. Samar expressed concern. ‘Are you well, Abi? We can speak after your return.’
    ‘Sit down.’
    They did as he asked.
    ‘I have just broken bread with Khalid and Ali. They are intelligent and thoughtful boys and I would like them to stay a bit longer so I can get to know them better. I want to teach them something important. In this house we honour truth. That’s what I wish to teach them.’
    The women smiled appreciatively and nodded in agreement.
    ‘For that reason,’ he continued, ‘I have decided to ignore the lies you have told me about your husbands. Each and every word you spoke was an untruth and you were prepared to testify falsely with your hands on al-Quran. I was aware that Allah had not blessed you with too much intelligence, but your stupidity is truly monumental. And behind this dishonourable attempt an even higher level of stupidity than yours appears to be at work. Was this foolishness your mother’s idea? Answer me.’
    Sakina began to weep tears as false as her earlier smiles.
    Her father rose to dismiss them. ‘I wish you to return to your homes and forget this whole business. Are you not aware that the boys love the men you wish to defame? If I hear another word from you I will make sure you are severely punished.’
    Shaken by this display of anger, Samar and Sakina fell on their knees before him and kissed his feet. Samar spoke in a broken voice. ‘Forgive us, Abi. You are correct. It was our mother’s idea. We will not mention it to another person as long as we live.’
    Then Sakina, desperate to restore herself to her father’s favour, declared, ‘We will never speak untruth again.’
    Idrisi was unbending. ‘You might as well say you’ll never eat again.’
    ‘Abi, a letter arrived from Walid.’
    The shock almost felled him. He sat down again. ‘If this is another falsehood ...’
    ‘It is not, Abi,’ Samar spoke to back up her sister. ‘We saw the letter.’
    ‘When did it arrive?’
    ‘A year ago,’ replied Sakina. ‘It was delivered to us by a merchant who had met Walid.’
    ‘Why was I not informed?’
    The women bowed their heads and did not answer.
    ‘Who was the letter addressed to? Do not fear. Tell me the truth.’
    ‘To us,’ replied Samar, ‘but in it there was a sealed parchment for you. Our mother told us we should conceal it till you agreed to our plan.’
    ‘I assume you have brought it with you?’
    She nodded and rushed to her room, returning with a sealed roll of paper. Taking it from her, Idrisi asked them to leave him alone. He inspected the document closely to ascertain whether it might have been opened and re-sealed but, to his surprise, it had not been tampered with. As he stamped on the seal and watched it crumble, his eyes moistened. Walid was alive. The clumsy calligraphy was reassuring. There could be no doubt that Walid was the author of what lay on the table before him. On another piece of papyrus with the letter Idrisi saw the outlines of a map, but which coast could this be? For a moment the mapmaker took precedence over the father. He clapped his hands. It was the southern coast of India, but drawn with much greater skill than his own.
    ‘Allah be praised,’ he said to himself. ‘The boy is more gifted than his father.’
    Then he devoured the letter.
    Most respected father, I hope this finds you in good health. I honour you and I love you. This is the third letter I am sending you. The first two were despatched through merchants who were on their way to Palermo. I asked them to