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The caravan makes its way through the desert. Shimmering flickering, the outline of the destination becomes apparent in the distance. A city surrounded by high walls, slightly elevated built on a hill. Some towers of the palace tower awe-inspiringly over the protective walls with golden roofs. The city is in the hard-guided hands of the Sultan, a ruler who does not tolerate any breaking of the rules. The X-shaped poles tied up and carved into the ground, with their bodies stretched out, partly lifeless and partly still connected to life, speak volumes of those who have trampled underfoot on its laws. Inside the ruling house, the preparations of the new arrivals have been in full swing for days. Nothing is left to chance. The caravan does not suspect much of the hustle and bustle in the cool walls a few miles out in the desert sand. The Tross consists of dense columns of two. He is led by riders wrapped in black on splendid moulds adorned with tinkling golden jewellery bridles. The rows are interrupted by a camel litter, which is accompanied on both sides by another rider and at the end by a special guard. Immediately behind the palanquin rides Arman, the man who has bought for the ruler in the palace on the slave market three day rides from here, the jewel inside. The arrival of the pirate ship with the noble lady from the west had spread quickly. In the city by the sea, known for its human trafficking, many of the surrounding houses of rank and name have offered their buyers, who were to buy them at auction. As expected, the Sultan let human goods cost him quite a bit and, thanks to his numerous bidders on the day of sale, one of them was awarded the contract as expected.
At a steady pace, the caravan moves further and further towards the city in the distance. The lady inside the camel litter awaits the entrance into the harem of the ruler. She will remain there until his disgrace or her natural death.
Aman, the successful bidder, does not let the sedan chair out of his sight for a second in front of him with the precious good, and when it is lost, the same fate blossoms for him as that of the men tied up outside the city gates, for example, through robbery. While the remaining guards keep an eye on the surroundings, he secures the human cargo. Again and again a scent blows from the inside of the sedan into his face. Behind red and orange stepped and airy, translucent veils weighted down with pearl strings and golden borders, he can recognize the outline of the lady. Every now and then a sparkle of her lavish jewellery flashes in the rhythm of the moving camel behind the curtains. But immediately Aman is distracted again by the scent that blows around him from the sparkle. As an experienced advisor to the ruler in culinary and olfactory matters, he knows about the magic of scents of all kinds of origins and has contributed greatly to the enrichment of the cuisine and the scenting of the harem and the ruling chambers. It is therefore easy for him to classify the components of the scent from the sedan chair. He perceives a full-bodied Damascus rose. It has rustic flower heads, densely lined in rich pink and almost bursting, which exude a heavy, sweet, spicy scent. The rose is carried by a little lemon and a riper raspberry underlining the scent of the rose. The sweetish aspect is loosened by a peppery note, but never emerges from its trail. Again and again Aman blows the seductive combination of flowers and fruits into the face and although the sun is burning, this does not seem to stop the development of the fragrance. The delicious elixir wafts densely from the inside of the sedan chair to caress its face again and again. Under other circumstances, he would almost forget his task, but he must concentrate. The view of the sedan chair and the hearing of the surroundings. While the rose and its fragrant companions continue to waft around him, he also perceives jasmine. It lets the other scent traces shine even more nobly and gives even more depth. What has changed during the ride is that the scent has gained in warmth through amber and woody notes, but also a gentle vanilla touch. The rose, however, dominated the fragrance throughout the journey. Aman questions whether the lady in the sedan might have chosen this scent herself if she had not been deprived of it.
For him in any case a lady from distant western climes, appearing here as an exotic, with such an exquisite scent, who is anxious to do justice to her beauty, would truly be an enrichment...
Who never hunted and never loved,
never sought the scent of flowers
and never trembled at the sound of music,
is not a human being, but a donkey.