After leaving the bathhouse, Layla led Ruqayyah, along with their mothers, toward the dock along the Tigris. The morning air had begun to warm, carrying the fresh scent of the river mingled with the fragrant aroma of agarwood from the garments of passing nobles. Baghdad felt lighter that day, as if the city itself were joining in the celebration of Eid al-Fitr.
The noblemen's boats were already waiting, their polished hulls gleaming, draped with thin ivory curtains to shield the passengers from the sun. Attentive attendants helped them aboard, straightening cushions and ensuring their robes fell gracefully. Ruqayyah settled onto a low cushion, arranging her garment with care. From her seat, the river stretched wide, dotted with other boats drifting lazily along the current.
The Tigris carried a quiet vitality. Families of officials and wealthy merchants navigated their vessels, greeting one another with smiles and laughter. On this festive day, the usual social distance seemed to relax, though it never vanished completely.
Their boat glided slowly over the tranquil water. Sunlight danced upon the surface, reflecting the shadows of buildings and passing vessels. Ruqayyah folded her hands in her lap, observing the life around her with calm attention.
"Look downstream," Layla said, pointing. "Amir Qasim's family is out today as well."
Ruqayyah turned. A large boat with pale green drapery passed by; a few noblewomen spoke casually among themselves, the curtains left half-drawn in a rare display of ease.
"Eid gives people courage to be seen," Ruqayyah murmured.
Layla laughed. "Not courage… more like… they grow weary of pretending."
Salma, seated across from them, added softly, "Holidays are the time to show that we are human, not just names and titles."
Rabiah nodded. "Yet, always remember, there are eyes that watch."
Ruqayyah allowed herself a faint smile. Even on the river during Eid, etiquette followed them like a shadow. Still, the atmosphere felt more relaxed.
Laughter came from the neighboring boat. A noblewoman called out, "Layla! It has been so long." Layla inclined her head politely. "May Eid al-Fitr bring you blessings."
"And to you as well," the woman replied before her boat drifted onward.
Along the riverbank, children ran in fresh clothing, and merchants decorated their stalls with vibrant fabrics. The faint strains of street musicians blended with the lapping of water against wooden hulls. Ruqayyah felt a rare serenity, able to enjoy the scene without the usual vigilance.
Salma spoke quietly with Rabiah about relatives they would visit after the midday prayer. Layla, meanwhile, savored the moment, greeting a noble on a nearby boat with a brief nod—enough for recognition, yet careful to avoid a drawn-out conversation.
Attendants offered cool drinks and small Eid pastries. Ruqayyah took one, nibbling slowly before returning her gaze to the river. Sunlight glimmering on the water's surface made the world feel unusually expansive.
They passed a lively stretch of the riverbank where musicians and dancers performed. Layla pointed toward a group of brightly dressed players. The beat of drums and the pluck of lutes intertwined with the dancers' graceful movements.
The women leaned forward, eyes alight. Salma whispered to Rabiah, "Notice how the dancers follow the rhythm of the musicians."
Ruqayyah watched a young man twirl a tambourine with effortless skill. Other nobles perched along balconies on the riverbank also watched, tossing coins or small gifts to the performers. Layla demonstrated, tossing a few dinars into a musician's tray.
"Here, Aisha," Layla said. "Give them something—so they play even more beautifully for the blessings received."
Ruqayyah did as instructed, watching the gratitude shine in the musician's eyes. Children clapped and danced nearby. The atmosphere was festive, free, and genuine.
Rabiah leaned back, whispering, "Even in the streets, giving brings its own joy."
As their boat glided past, Faris, riding along the riverbank, happened upon them. His eyes fell upon Ruqayyah and her family aboard the boat.
Ruqayyah looked radiant, sunlight enhancing the allure of the vizier's daughter. With her veil only partially covering her face, her pale skin and finely carved features seemed like polished jade.
As their boat paused briefly, Ruqayyah's gaze met his. Faris lifted his hand in greeting.
"Assalamu'alaikum, O daughter of the grand vizier," he called.
"Wa'alaikumussalam, Ya Amir," Ruqayyah replied, lifting her hand in return.
"Blessed Eid al-Fitr to you," Faris added with a courteous smile. He pressed his heels to his horse and rode onward.
"Eid al-Fitr blessings to you as well," Ruqayyah answered calmly and formally, mindful of the respectful distance between them.
Faris inclined his head once more before disappearing from sight. Ruqayyah watched him go, then turned back to the music and the river.
The boat continued on. They enjoyed the dances and melodies, occasionally tossing coins and gifts to children and performers. The Tigris shimmered beneath the sun, city architecture mirrored in its waters, and Ruqayyah breathed deeply, letting the scents, sounds, and sights of Eid fill her senses.
---
Several months had passed since the Eid al-Fitr celebrations. The warm memories of the river, the dances, and the music lingered in Ruqayyah's mind, yet Baghdad had grown increasingly restless with each passing day. By the seventh month, tensions had reached a boiling point. Ruqayyah now stood before the gates of Abu'l-Hasan ibn Malik's house…
At the gate of Abu'l-Hasan's house, a female servant opened the door and guided them into the wide courtyard. There, his wife, Amina binti Halid, an elegant and gracious woman, welcomed them warmly.
"Welcome, wives of Al-Hasan and Al-Fadl," she said with a slight bow. "May your journey find you well and untroubled."
"We give our thanks, Ya Binti Halid," Rabiah replied with a polite inclination of her head, followed by Salma.
The house felt immediately warm and alive; the courtyard was spread with cushions and mats, while silk curtains hung to shield from the sun. Attendants moved swiftly among them, arranging cups of drinks and small dishes with practiced care.
On the low tables lay platters of dates, baklava, almond confections, and bread still warm from the oven. The air was heavy with the fragrance of cinnamon, cardamom, and honey. Ruqayyah drew a slow breath, savoring the richness of the aromas and the promise of each bite.
Children of the household moved quietly through the courtyard, their soft laughter blending with the faint strains of lute and rebab from a corner. Attendants offered cups of sherbat, lightly cooled and sweetened, which Ruqayyah took with a gentle smile.
"Pray, be seated," Amina binti Halid said. "We have prepared a humble repast—dates, nut bread, and roasted meat—to offer comfort upon your arrival."