Free Princess by Jean P. Sasson Page B

made: Father gave a huge sum of money to the mosque, and Ali had to be present for prayers five times each day to appease the men of God, along with God himself. The mutawas knew that few of the younger royal princes bothered to go to prayer at all, and that such a punishment would be especially irksome to Ali. He was told he would have to show his face to the head mutawa in our mosque at every prayer for the next twelve months. His only excuse would be if he were out of the city. Since Ali generally slept until nine o’clock, he frowned at the mere thought of the sun-up prayer. In addition, he had to write one thousand times on a legal pad: “God is great, and I have displeased him by running after the corrupt and immoral ways of the Godless West.” As a final condition, Ali was told he would have to reveal the name of the person who had supplied him with the slides and magazines. As it was, Ali had slipped in the magazines from trips abroad since a prince is ushered through customs with only a courtesy glance. But a Westerner he had befriended at a party had sold him the slides, and Ali, eager for a foreign villain to take the pressure off him, happily supplied the mutawas with the Westerner’s name and work address. We would later learn that the man had been arrested, flogged, and deported.
    I felt terrible. My stupid prank had disgraced my entire family with a stinging humiliation. I did not think the lesson would harm Ali, but I knew my parents had been affected and other innocent people would be injured. Also, I am ashamed to admit, I was petrified that my guilt would be discovered. I prayed to God that if he would let me escape capture this once, from that day forward I would be a perfect child.
    Omar led the mutawas out of our grounds. Mother and I waited for Father and Ali to return to the family sitting room. Father was breathing loudly and gripped Ali by his upper arm, pushing him toward the stairway. Ali looked my way and our eyes met. A moment, a flash of realization, and I understood that he had concluded I was the guilty party. Sadly, I saw that he looked more hurt than angry.
    I began to sob, for I felt the weight of the terrible deed I had committed. Father looked at me in pity. Then he shoved Ali and screamed that he had upset the entire family, including the innocent children. For the first time in my life, my father came and held me in his arms and told me not to worry. I was now truly miserable. The touch that I had been longing for all my life now felt barren, and the joy I had so often imagined was destroyed in the elusive prize so wrongly taken. My misdeed had accomplished my target, however. No mention was ever made of Ali’s broken toe, or the toilet clogged with Ali’s headdress. One sin had so outweighed the other that they ended up canceling each other out.

Chapter Six: The Trip
     
    Despite the recent family turmoil, the trip to Italy and Egypt was still planned, but my heart was no longer joyful. I organized my suitcase and made my lists as I watched Ali warily trudge by my bedroom door. In the past, Ali had given me little thought. I was scorned as a girl, someone to antagonize or push about occasionally—a person of little worth. He looked at me differently now, for he had made the surprising discovery that I, a lowly female and the youngest member of the family, was a dangerous and worthy opponent.
    On the day of our departure, six limousines were needed to transport us to the airport. Eleven of us were traveling for four weeks: Nura and Ahmed, with three of their five children; two of their Filipino maids; Sara and myself; and Ali and his friend Hadi. Two years older than Ali, Hadi was a student at the Religious Institute, a boys’ school in Riyadh for those young men who aspired to become mutawas. Hadi impressed adults by quoting the Koran and acting very pious in their presence. My father felt confident that Hadi would have a good influence on his children. To those who would