“Wallahi, our beloved must not follow in his steps too closely. Allah forbid!” said Umm ed-Dahak solemnly. And forthwith she began to make another forecast, with frequent “Inshallahs” and “Mashallahs,” to rob it of all taint of boastfulness. “He goes up gently, rousing no suspicion in the ruler, winning the people’s voice, as did Muhammad Ali. Then, when the times are ripe, he asks the Sovereign and his courtiers to a banquet and cuts all their throats. Then he ascends the throne and does good deeds, till all men praise the Maker for his rare benevolence. And thou, his mother, wilt reside in splendid state, and when the great ones of the English come with gifts for thee, thou wilt spit upon them and repel them with thy little foot. Inshallah!”

Barakah would be a widow in those days, by Allah’s mercy. A queen, she would of course have many lovers. Did she desire a man⁠—one word, and he was hers as quick as lightning! And Umm ed-Dahak would be ever at her call to spread the net for goodly youths and guard her secret.

“But I shall be too old by then!” laughed Barakah.