Part 5: Genius

The Indian who taught in the Golden Palace was tall and old, but he fell nimbly to his knees when His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah, may he live for ever, strode in to the anteroom of the harem in the Golden Palace in Kobekistan. The Emir stopped, a little surprised at the scene before him. Instead of the usual sparsely furnished room with a small dais in the middle of the floor and a few chairs against the wall, he was transported in memory back some twenty years. There were serried ranks of school desks and facing them a larger teacher’s desk and a blackboard.

The Emir sat on one of the desks in the front row and asked, ~You have a problem you wish me to solve?~

The teacher looked worried.

“Ask away. You will not give offence,” he added kindly in English.

~Master, it is the problem of Sharifa, your daughter, ~ the teacher replied.

The Emir asked, “Why? Is she a problem? Does she disrupt your classes?”

“She reaches her twelfth birthday in two days time, Master. That is the problem.”

“Explain.”

“As Your Magnificence, may you live for ever, surely knows, it is the custom here in Kobekistan that a child is a child until their twelfth birthday, and then, arbitrarily, they are considered young adults.”

The Emir nodded. Pedagogues the world over delight in recounting the obvious at great length. Doubtless the problem would appear somewhere along the way.

“The problem is that she wishes to continue with her studies, and custom decrees that I cannot teach her after she ceases to be a child. The difficulty is mathematics and sciences.”

“What level has she reached in her studies?” he asked.

The Sikh’s face brightened, “She has already learned differential and integral calculus, Eminence, Master.”

“Oh,” said the Emir, quite taken aback. Either his daughter was very bright, or very specialised in her knowledge. “Come with me,” he said and strode to the door to the harem proper.

“Your Magnificence, it is death for me to pass that door,” the teacher queried, his voice rising an octave as his fear showed.

“Not if you are with me,” the Emir reassured him, “just don’t rape any of the women.”

The unexpected and unannounced arrival of the Emir caused a stir among the women and the eunuchs rushed about like chickens when a fox approaches.

“Sharifa, “ the Emir bellowed.

The young girl came forward, clearly frightened half out of her wits. The only explanation she could think of, or any of the women could think of, was that she was to be given to the teacher as a present on her twelfth birthday.

“Why do you want to learn more mathematics?”

The child was obviously too frightened to answer. The Emir took a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her.

“Do you know what this means?” he asked.

She nodded, “It means I can answer safely and will not be punished, but that only means me.”

The Emir smiled and said, using Arabic so that all would understand, ~I don’t have enough handkerchiefs in my pocket to give one to everybody here.~ The quip broke the tension in the room and even the girl smiled uncertainly. “Now please tell me, before I die of old age waiting for an answer, why you want to learn more mathematics.”

“It is difficult to explain. It is like an onion, only backwards. You learn a complete body of maths and it looks like everything there is, and then another layer appears which fits round that, and it seems complete again, but then there is another layer, and another, and another. I want to find the last layer, or at least some part of that layer, but I already know enough to know that so far I know almost nothing.”

The Emir nodded. This explanation seemed to mean something to him, though most of the women were at a loss to understand what on earth she meant. The Chief Eunuch was already confused, but the next series of questions to the girl left him totally at a loss.

“For now I have some questions. First, what is the second differential of a formula?”

She was on firmer ground now, “It is essentially the rate of change of the gradient of the graph of the formula, sir.”

“Who was Zeno, and why is he interesting to a mathematician?”

The answer came with confidence, “Zeno was a Greek philosopher and his paradox is an apparent proof that a fast runner will never overtake a slower one, nor even quite catch up.”

“What does that signify?”

“That the sum of an infinite series may be finite,” she replied without the slightest hesitation.

“What is Chebyshev’s Inequality?”

She looked very worried, and finally said in a very small voice, “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” her father answered, “You will have to be accompanied by a eunuch and to wear an abaya,” then turning to the teacher he asked, “How far can you take her?”

“Until she is ready for university, Your Magnificence, may you live for ever,” that worthy replied, and then fell to the floor grovelling in obeisance as he realised the implication of what he had said. It was voicing the unthinkable that a woman from a high status harem in Kobekistan should even consider going to university.

“Get up, you fool. Some of the women here have actually been to university.”

He escorted the old man back to the door, and then turned to the Chief Eunuch.

“We will have to find some educated eunuchs or women to teach her music and physics and chemistry. Find them and have a schoolroom set up. All the girls in this harem are to attend lessons the same as the boys from now on.”

“Master,” the Chief Eunuch managed to splutter in his shock at this amazing concept, but his Master had spoken and therefore it would be done, though where he would find educated eunuchs was going to be a problem.

Then Sharifa piped up, ~Father, what is Chebyshev’s Inequality?~

The Emir stared at her, then smiled broadly and switched to English, “It states that the probability that the outcome of a random variable with standard deviation sigma is no less than ‘a’ times sigma away from its mean, is no more than one over ‘a’ squared. How much of that do you understand?”

“Well, I know what a random variable is, and a standard deviation, but I would have to think about what you said.” She thought for a few moments and then added, “It sounds right.”

“What do you mean, ‘It sounds right’?”

“I can’t explain,” she answered, “It’s just that when something is true it seems to sound right and other things just sound wrong.”

“God in Heaven, an intuitive mathematician,” he said, “We will have to do something about you, young lady.”

The main topic of conversation in the harem, and a major worry for the Chief Eunuch, that evening was what the Emir might have meant by that cryptic comment.

Chapter 40: A Suitable Teacher

The slave dealer was completely flummoxed by the request from the Chief Eunuch of the Golden Palace for a female teacher of scientific subjects, age immaterial, appearance immaterial, virginity unimportant. That was four criteria he had never, ever, been given before, but like the true lover of money that he was he would try his best.

“That will cost money,” he observed, “A lot of money.”

“If she’s old and ugly, she will be almost worthless,” replied the Chief Eunuch, happy that the auctioneer had not laughed, but had started haggling.

“But we will have to find such a one, and then take her, and then bring her here, and then feed and look after her, and train her; the expenses will be endless.”

“Your expenses will not be endless, nor will your profits,” replied the eunuch, “She will need no training, because she will not be used in the harem. She will need no food, because she will come direct to the Palace. The only need is for speed. His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah, may he live for ever, has ordered it, so be grateful that I pay you anything at all.”

After the Chief Eunuch had left, the auctioneer made several ‘phone calls to his agents in Europe. They all reacted in disbelief, but the phrase ~the Emir has decreed~ soon quietened them down.

It was the Italian agent who solved the problem first. He occasionally imported things for the Mafia in his private Lear jet under diplomatic privilege and in return they did him occasional favours. It was to one such friend that he mentioned the problem later that day.

“Let me get this straight,” his friend said, “You want a qualified teacher of science, and age and appearance are unimportant, but she must be a female?”

“Yes.”

“No trouble,” said the Mafia man, “When do you want her?”

“Would yesterday be too soon?” asked the Arab.

“Have your ‘plane ready at six tomorrow morning,” was the surprising answer.

Promptly at six the next morning a crate was loaded on the Lear jet at a small private airstrip near Rome. The customs official would not be on duty until eight, so the manifest was left for him in his office; it did not mention the crate.

When they were safely in the air and well away from Italian airspace, the Arab opened the crate and checked that the woman was breathing freely. Shrugging his shoulders, the Arab closed the crate and wondered why the Emir wanted a school teacher, and what he would say when he found that he had bought a nun. At least she had been married, so she would know the basic facts of life.

Chapter 41: Where Am I?

When Sister Annamaria woke she was totally disoriented. She could remember little of what had happened, and nothing of how she came to be in what was obviously a hospital room.

A nurse appeared at the bedside and asked, “How are you feeling now?” in English.

As she sat up, she realised that she felt quite well and realised that her first thought, that she had been hit by a car, was wrong.

Using the same language, albeit with an accent, she asked, “I feel fine, but what happened? Where am I? Why am I here?”

“You sound well enough,” said the nurse, ignoring her questions, “You can dress if you wish.”

“Where am I, exactly?” she insisted. Getting no reply she insisted, “Tell me now, exactly where I am!”

“Exactly? You are in room 273, in the Golden Palace, in Kobek city, the capital of Kobekistan. You will now dress and go downstairs where someone will explain everything.”

“But, but, but...” the nun spluttered to the disappearing back of the nurse.

She found her clothes in the small wardrobe beside the bed, neatly laundered and ironed. A few moments after she finished dressing she was on her knees praying for guidance when a large man wearing only voluminous trousers came into the room.

“Please come with me,” he said with an odd squeaky voice.

“Where to, and does nobody speak Italian?” she replied, not getting up.

“To see the His Magnificence the Emir, may he live for ever, and I don’t think so,” replied the eunuch, who was under strict, if incomprehensible, orders from the Emir himself not to antagonise or chastise this woman.

Sister Annamaria rose and followed him, thinking that perhaps now she would get some answers. She was led to a large, airy room which was quite empty, except for two gilded chairs near the door, and in the middle a low dais. As she looked around her, disgusted by the mosaics on the walls, all of which seemed to depict sexual acts or physical violence, the eunuch who had accompanied her suddenly threw himself face down on the floor. A man she judged to be in his thirties, with a vaguely Arab cast of countenance walked in.

“Please sit down, Sister,” he said as he took the seat opposite her.

When they were seated she leant forward and started to ask, “Where am I and what... ?” but he interrupted her by raising one hand.

“Please let me explain,” he started, “Questions afterwards.”

She subsided back into her chair and waited.

“First, I must apologise for what happened to you. It was a mistake for which I am truly sorry. What happened was that I said I needed a female teacher of science, and that was interpreted as a wish to buy one in the slave market. My Chief Eunuch ordered one from a slave dealer, so you were kidnapped and brought here. It never occurred to my staff to advertise in the educational press, nor to me that I would have to specify that they were to do that. The first I knew of what had happened was when they said you were here.”

“I demand to be returned to my convent in Italy immediately,” she replied.

“You could fly back to Italy this afternoon, if you wish...” began the Emir.

“Good,” she interrupted.

“But first let me tell you my problem. In this country women live secluded lives in harems. Children stay there also, with their mothers, until they are twelve years old. Then the boys leave the harem and live out in the world, you might say; girls, on the other hand, cease to be allowed outside the harem at all, or at any rate only with a heavy escort and dressed in an abaya.”

“What’s an abaya?” she asked.

“Oh, much the same as a Poor Clare would wear, but with the face hidden also. To continue, I have a number of children in my harem who have been having lessons from a male teacher, in the Palace here, and one of the girls is now twelve and may no longer be taught by a male, but she shows great promise as a mathematician, so I want her to go to university. To do that she needs to be taught many subjects and it would be much simpler all round if she had a female teaching staff. Languages are not a problem, because there are several nationalities in my harem, and one of my wives is an English literature graduate, but we cannot handle physics or chemistry.”

“But how could a nun live in this heathen country?”

“Oh, that isn’t a difficulty. A convent could be built here, and suitable accommodation could be found while that is done. We already have a Roman Catholic Church here, and the Monsignor has agreed to be chaplain to such an establishment. There is complete religious tolerance; I would allow nothing less, being an agnostic myself.”

“But ... but this is preposterous.”

“Your mother house in Naples has also agreed,” he added. He snapped his fingers and a telephone was handed to her by the eunuch. “The code for Italy is zero zero three nine from here.”

After speaking to her Mother Superior, Sister Annamaria returned the telephone and sat back.

“Well?” he asked.

“May I ask who you are?” she said.

“My title is His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah. I am the absolute ruler of this country.”

“I am instructed to take up your offer, but that it had better be real.”

“I assure you that it is wholly real. I think I have a child genius on my hands and I intend to nurture that genius. Would you like to meet her, and your colleagues?”

Chapter 42: Lessons

As they walked into the harem proper, still accompanied by the Chief Eunuch, Sister Annamaria was shocked to see the near nudity of the women, dressed as they were in short satin dressing-gowns, reaching only to the tops of their thighs and without any buttons or belt to hold them closed below a collar button. Other than that she could see that they were completely naked, not even wearing slippers.

Watching her reaction, the Emir thought she took it well. He was amused by the women’s reaction to the nun’s dress, a severely cut dark grey suit with the skirt well below the knee, over a high-necked simple white blouse, and with her hair held in a severe wimple.

Addressing nobody in particular he said, “Sister Annamaria is here to teach the children scientific subjects. Please make her welcome. She will not be staying in the harem, but will soon have her own house.”

A quiet buzz of surprise greeted his last sentence, and those few women who recognised the honorific and the clothing she wore wondered how a nun from a teaching order had strayed as far as Kobekistan.

Sister Annamaria was almost overwhelmed by the friendliness of the Emir’s wives to whom she was formally introduced. It did not surprise her that there was more than one; she had assumed that country, if not the Emir himself, had the Moslem tradition of up to four wives. When two of the wives were English and clearly not oppressed or unhappy, she felt just a little more reassured that this incredible situation was perhaps another of God’s mysteries, and an opportunity rather than a trial.

The children were like children the world over, some were mischievous and forward, some were reserved, and some were downright shy and frightened by her appearance. The one called Sharifa, who was apparently the indirect cause of her kidnapping was a serious, reserved child, on the brink of puberty.

It was the concubines who disturbed her; they did not seem to have any opinions, and she got the impression that they rather resented her. The elder of the two English wives, the Princess Ayda, explained that the locally born concubines had no concept of a woman who worked, or of a woman who devoted her life to God, and that they only viewed her as a potential rival.