From Amusheh’s house I went with a black slave girl to another house also within the kasr, that of Hamúd’s wife, Beneyeh, a daughter of Metaab. There I saw Urgheyeh, her sister, married to Majid, son of Hamúd; also another wife of Hamúd’s. This last person I found was not considered as an equal, and on asking about her birth and parentage, was told, “She is the daughter of a Shammar.” “Who?” I inquired. “Ahad” (one). “But _who_ is he?” “Ahad,—fulan min Haïl min el belad” (some one, a person of the town). She was hardly considered as belonging to the family. The third and fourth wives, whom I afterwards saw, are, like the first, relations, one a daughter of Tellál, and the other of Suleyman, Hamúd’s uncle on the mother’s side (khal). These four are young; Majid’s mother, whose name I never heard, died, I believe, several years ago. Hamúd, like the Emir, keeps up the number of his wives to the exact figure permitted by the law of the Koran, any one who dies or fails to please being replaced as we replace a servant.
Beneyeh met me at her door, and we went through a little ante-room or vestibule into her kahwah. Here we remained only a few moments till, to my surprise, three arm-chairs were brought and placed in the ante-room. On these I and Beneyeh and the second class wife sat, drinking tea out of tea-cups, with saucers and tea-spoons. The cups were filled to the brim, and the tea in them then filled to overflowing with lumps of sugar. It was, however, good. A pile of sweet limes was then brought; slaves peeled the fruits, and divided them into quarters, which they handed round. After these refreshments Beneyeh wished to show me her room upstairs. It was reached, like Amusheh’s private apartment, by a rugged staircase from the kahwah, and was built in the same style, with two columns supporting the rafters, only it had no outlook, being lighted only by two small openings high up in the wall. It was, however, more interesting than Amusheh’s room, for its walls were decorated with arms. There were eighteen or twenty swords, and several guns and daggers, arranged with some care and taste as ornaments. The guns were all very old-fashioned things, with long barrels, but most of them beautifully inlaid with silver. Two of the daggers we had already seen in the evening, when the Emir sent for them to show us as specimens of the excellence of Haïl goldsmiths’ work. The swords, or sword-hilts, were of various degrees of richness, the blades I did not see. Unfortunately at the moment I did not think of Obeyd and his three wishes, and so forgot to ask Beneyeh whether Obeyd’s sword was among these; it would not have done to inquire about the widow, but there would have been no impropriety in asking about the sword, and I afterwards the more regretted having omitted to do so, because this proved to be my only opportunity. It would have been curious to ascertain whether Obeyd wore a plain unjewelled weapon in keeping with Wahhabi austerity. He would surely have disapproved, could he have foreseen it, of the gold and jewels, not to mention silks and brocaded stuffs now worn by his descendants; for his own children have none of the severe asceticism attributed to him, although they inherit his love of prayer.