The Lost Way To Misrost by Ehab Shawky - HTML preview
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THE LOST WAY
TO MISROST
THE LEGACY
h
EHAB SHAWKY
Copyright © Ehab Shawky, 2018.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. The only exception is for a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Ehab Shawky Abd El-Khalek Ahmed asserts the moral right to be recognised as the author and sole owner for all copyrights of this work.
This book is a fiction medieval novel. All names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is a coincidence.
Contact the author
E-Book Edition: October 2021.
P.O. Box: 11451
El-Manial Island, Cairo, Egypt.
To the sincere youths of the lost generations,
“Every place and every time has its traitors.
In different shapes and figures they come, And there is always a price for resisting them.
No matter how high this price may seem, You must always fight their corrupt regime.
The price of not resisting is much worse, For their presence is a destructive curse.
Unite your forces, heal the broken parts, 25th of January will always be in the hearts.”
Table of Contents
The Return
1
Revealing Secrets
52
The Piercing Ray
92
Night of the Truth
137
The Operations Begin
176
Operation Johan
192
Jar-Shamir
270
The Spark Spreads
345
Standing Fast
367
The legacy lives on
431
PART I
THE RETURN
1
Struggling against endless raging waters, stroke after stroke my arms relentlessly fought. My eyes searched for the shore. Disabled by the ruling night, I strove and strove but to no avail. Suddenly, a fading silver light started to rise on the horizon. Before it filled my eyes, before certitude filled my heart, I woke up.
Looking around, I found myself still sleeping in that abandoned oasis amidst the Misrostian eastern wilderness.
I looked at the stars and pondered over their silence and might, hope had always gleamed in their light. A gentle breeze blew away the heat of the night and renewed my vigour. I got up, looked around bidding the peaceful place farewell, and then I started my journey back to the heart of Misrost.
My name is Qotazio Al-Misrosty. I am the former captain of the famous merchant ship, “Karma.” I am the son of late Mohab Al-Misrosty, one of the former generals of his majesty’s once had been army. Some say that the lineage of our family could be traced back to the descendants of Misroim himself. Personally, I never believed this allegation. I still remember how my grandmother used to tell me the stories of my ancestors, and I remember how I used to mock those stories during my teenage years. My father always resented my attitude regarding this particular issue, but he never tried to discuss the matter with me. There was I… the alleged descendant of Misroim himself, wearing patched dirty clothes, starving, and walking back to my homeland after a long tiring journey that ended up with colossal failure.
Near the border of the oasis, I saw an old man leaning his head on his stick, sitting under a palm tree.
“Peace and blessings be with you old man,” I said.
He raised his head, looked me up and down, and then said suspiciously, “May Alaha’s peace and blessings be with you my son. To where might the traveller be headed?”
“To the heart of Misrost,” I replied.
His eyes grew wider and protested, “Heart of Misrost!
Are you crazy?”
“Why are you saying that?” I asked.
The old man got up, grabbed me by my shoulders, and said hysterically, “The way to Misrost was lost long ago. It was overtaken by beasts that kill its youths. If I were you, I wouldn’t go there. Go and start a new life elsewhere.”
He retreated in quick humpy steps towards the heart of the oasis. I heard him repeat that last sentence continuously until he disappeared amidst the palm trees.
The old man must be mad, I thought to myself. I turned around and continued my journey back home. All I was hoping for at that moment was to return to my family’s farm, settle down, and raise a family of my own. I still had relatives living in Misrost, so I was counting on the help I shall get when I arrive. I was two weeks away from home.
All I had for food was a sack of dates and a waterskin, which I refilled whenever I passed by a water well.
A few miles away from the ancient city, the gigantic ancient monuments were still standing as a warning for invaders. “Beware, intruders. A mighty, capable nation lives behind me. Go back before it’s too late,” that’s what I have always imagined them saying.
On approaching the city gates of Fastotia, the largest Misrostian city, I saw some soldiers searching an entering caravan. They were treating the riders in a very harsh manner. One soldier pushed a young woman throwing her on the muddy grounds and shouted roughly, “Where is the damn message?” The young woman seemed oblivious to what the soldier meant. He pulled her up by one hand and slapped her with the other, and then repeated the same question. Not receiving an answer, he dragged her by her
hair into the officers’ room beside the city gates. Another soldier pushed an old man violently towards a higher-ranking officer and said something about Shamalia. The officer pointed towards a caged wagon and ordered the soldier to throw the man inside it.
I wanted to stay out of trouble, so I decided to mind my own business. I waited for my turn in the line trying not to care too much. Suddenly, a small, firm palm pulled my left hand. I looked, and there was a young child with a dirty face smiling at me. He was champing from an apple in a funny manner.
“Peace be with you, uncle,” he said loudly.
I patted his head in a bit of disgust and responded smiling, “Peace be with you, young man. What are you doing outside the city gates? Where are your folks?”
The boy looked at the gate and said, “My family lives inside Fastotia near the gates. I was playing with the boys in the street when a fruit seller passed by. One of his bags was leaking but he didn’t notice this. I collected what fell from the bag, followed the man, and returned the apples. As a reward, he offered me those few apples. Can you take me with you into the city? I’m afraid the soldiers would confiscate the apples and arrest me thinking I’m a thief?”
What a chatty little person, I thought to myself.
“Why would they think you are a thief?” I asked wondering.
“Apples are very expensive. A poor boy like me cannot buy them,” he answered in a pitiful tone that felt fake.
I looked him in the eyes and asked, “Why don’t you just tell them what happened as you told me?”
“They won’t believe me, uncle. They would confiscate the apples as they always do with poor people. Please uncle, just hold my hand till we pass through the gate. My sisters haven’t eaten anything for two days now. Please uncle, please.”
Unable to deny some admiration that had crept into my heart towards his persistence, I decided to help him. I held his little palm until we reached the checkpoint. The soldier sitting behind the desk said, “Your name and address of residence.”
“My name is Qotazio Al-Misrosty. My family owns a farm by the river bank in Fastotia.”
The soldier raised his head piercing the boy and me with his looks in a strange way.
“Wait here,” said the soldier. He got up and walked over to the officers’ room hurriedly. The strange manner in which the soldier looked at us made me nervous. The moment this boy grabbed my hand, I smelled trouble. I felt he was hiding something. He must have stolen the apples’
bag from the officers’ room, I thought looking at him doubtfully.
“Did you say your name is Qotazio Mohab Al-Misrosty, uncle?”
“Yes,” I responded coldly concentrating on the rapid movement around us.
Suddenly an officer came out from the guards’ room, mounted his horse, and took off towards the city gates shouting, “Make way.”
Then the soldier came out and whispered some orders to his comrades. They immediately started moving towards us. The boy pulled his hand out of mine saying, “I’ll see you later, uncle.” He ran through the gate and disappeared amidst the crowds. Amazingly, the soldiers didn’t care whatsoever about the boy. They surrounded me, and their leader said, “The chief wants to see you. He is waiting for you in his office at the city hall. Walk along now.”
Without giving me a chance to utter a word, they pushed me forward, and we started walking towards the heart of Misrost.
2
Walking amidst the soldiers without having a clue what was happening was frustrating. I noticed the people’s pitiful silent looks. I had been away for years, and no one knew who I was. This helped reduce my embarrassment.
The city was nothing as I remember it. The streets were incredibly filthy and crowded. Hundreds of new buildings were filling the scene; all were hideous and poorly built.
The once before green areas, the water wheels, and the beautiful merging trees, all disappeared. Instead, tens of wheel charts owned by loud merchants have taken their place. Complete disorder seemed to be a common feature in the streets; that was significant in the piles of rubbish present at every corner. Near the road that led to my family’s farm, I saw a woman and two young girls collecting the remnants of food from the rubbish bins.
When I passed by them, they gave me a sympathising look that I didn’t understand back then.
On reaching the city hall, the boy I met earlier was standing twenty feet away from the gate. The little devil was smiling in a manner, which indicated amusement and happiness. I looked at him angrily. He threw the last piece of apple he was holding into his mouth and ran away shouting, “Make way for the piercing ray… make way for the piercing ray.” I heard his voice repeating that same meaningless sentence until the sound faded away. What a loud little idiot, I thought to myself.
We entered the city hall, and walked through a long, faintly lighted, ugly, bad smelling corridor. In a side-space, I noticed some criminals handcuffed and tied together. They were forced to sit on the ground by one of the guards. The ugly corridor led us to an iron door. My accompanying guard knocked on it shouting, “Open up.” A small sight window opened, and the guard behind the door took a quick glance at us.
“Who’s the newcomer?” He asked curiously. The guard leading my escorting troops whispered something in his ear.
The man pierced me with a long disturbing gaze, which continued as we marched forward.
After passing through the iron door, we walked through a cleaner, adequately lighted corridor until we reached a huge, extravagantly decorated, wooden door. The guards stopped, and their leader said, “Wait here.” Again, he whispered a word to the guard standing by the fancy door.
The latter immediately carried the news inside to the important occupant. After a long moment, he came out and said, “The chief will see you shortly.”
We waited and waited; then after that, we waited a bit longer. The guards sat down, some went into another room, but none of them directed a word to me. I asked the guard at the door, “What is going on? We have been waiting here for a very long time, and I haven’t seen anyone entering or leaving this room?”
The guard raised his head and said coldly, “It seems that the chief is busy right now. Don’t worry. You will soon enter.”
Another long while passed before finally, a voice from inside the room shouted, “Guard.” The loyal servant rushed into the room and stayed inside for a moment then he came out and pointed at me arrogantly saying, “You, come.”
When I went in, a man was sitting behind a desk that resembled the door of his huge room. He was reading some scrolls. Everything inside was decorated with golden ornaments and sculptures. The floor was covered with rugs.
The ceiling had a stupidly huge chandelier adorning its centre, but most of its candles were off, and the room’s lighting was dim. The guard stood beside me until the man behind the desk signalled him to get out without raising his head. While he continued reviewing his scrolls, he asked,
“What’s your full name?”
“Qotazio Mohab Al-Misrosty,” I replied nervously.
“What brought you to Misrost, Qotazio?”
“My business abroad got compromised due to the hazards at sea, and I lost my ship, so I decided to return to my homeland here in Fastotia, and take care of my ancestor’s farm.”
“How long have you been away, Qotazio?”
“More than I can remember, sir. I guess it has been ten years. I went away when I was fifteen.”
The man raised his head. He stared at my face, looked deeply into my eyes for a disturbingly long moment, and then said, “Your eyes tell me that you are an honest man, Qotazio. This is a troubled country. Our enemies won’t let us prosper, and they are using native agitators to spread corruption in the lands. Are you a man who respects his word, Qotazio?”
“Yes sir, I am.”
The chief got up from behind his desk. He walked towards me, placed his big palms on my shoulders, and said in a strangely threatening tone, “So as I, so mark my words, Master Qotazio… If you promise me that you won’t cause any trouble, and stick to what you just said, I shall grant you all the help you need until your farm becomes one of the biggest farms in all Misrost. Of that, I promise.”
He then smiled saying, “Agreed?”
I didn’t know what was that all about, so I said, “Sir, I’m just a lonely man who wishes to raise a family and live in peace. What kind of trouble could I possibly cause?”
The chief smiled widely, patted my shoulders harshly, and said, “Agreed then.” He walked back to his seat and said, “Go home, Qotazio. Begin your new life as a good citizen of Misrost. I shall watch your progress and grant you my help whenever you need it.”
“Guard,” he shouted, and immediately the loyal servant came in. “Let this man go. He is a good citizen. We need people like him.”
“Yes sir,” the guard said with a strangely wicked smile.
The guard walked me back to the entrance of the building. “You’re free to go, make sure to retain this status,”
he said that then went back inside.
I didn’t know how to feel regarding all this, but I decided to treat it as if it never happened. Let’s go home, I said to myself as I started walking.
3
Passing through the streets of Fastotia was once before spirit healing. Seeing the condition things have reached in the once before beautiful city, pierced through my heart like a flaming arrow. I reached my uncle’s armoury, but it was closed, and the old man wasn’t there. I walked over to the diner where he used to rest, but the place was a wreck. There weren’t but a couple of empty tables remaining at its entrance. I stopped there staring in disbelief at the once before crowded place, the hub where poets and storytellers used to hold their contests and entertain people. It had turned into a spiritless dusty forsaken place. Only one person was sitting at the inner corner, he was holding a quill, and writing on a sheet of paper with high concentration. I walked over towards him seeking to inquire about my uncle and his whereabouts.
He was raising his hand approaching the inkwell with his quill when he noticed me approaching. He got up smiling and said, “Finally! O thank you Alaha. You have returned.”
He held me by my arms then hugged me tightly. The quill was still in his hand. I felt its tip pricking my shoulder. This sudden welcome from a person I couldn’t recognize was stupefying. He struck my shoulder in a friendly manner saying, “It’s me lad, Salamio.” I was shocked when he said that. I stared at his thin figure, weary face, full beard, and unusual modest clothes. All I was able to recognise were the full of life smile, and the frisky kind eyes.
“O Salamio, I’m hugging the best days of my life in you, old friend.” I said hugging him tightly. “Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Let’s go. I’ll walk you to your uncle’s house. We can talk on the way,” he responded.
I grabbed his arm and said, “I want to know what the hell happened here, Salamio?”
He remained silent for a moment then replied, “I know that look. To tell the truth, I’ve been waiting for it for a long time. A lot has happened, my friend, a lot.” His tone then changed, and he said playfully, “But starting this moment, everything is going to change, don’t worry.”
As we headed towards my uncle’s house, Salamio asked me about my journeys during the past years. We chatted all the way, and he kept on joking whenever he got the opportunity as he always did. The same young boy was still there beneath the changed features. Salamio had always been my most joyful friend, he was never a sad person, nor did he ever like those who were too serious. He was incredibly kind, and the most generous towards the poor and the needy.
“Remember when you stole all the money inside your father’s drawer and gave it to a woman he had forbidden from beggary in front of the diner.”
He laughed and said, “Of course, who would forget the toughest beating his father ever gave him…” He hushed shortly staring at me, and then said, “What! Orabio, later on, told me it was you who told my father that I did it, you stupid jackass.”
I laughed dodging and blocking his pokes and punches.
“There was nothing else I could have done. Your old man went crazy. He was about to accuse the poor woman of stealing his money. ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’
Didn’t you always say that?
“Ten stripes with that lousy thin cane on my butt. I couldn’t sit, or even lie down on my back for a whole week you stinking rat,” he shouted angrily.
I couldn’t help but laugh imagining that. Enraged by this, he grabbed me by my garment and pushed me backward swearing at me in anger. I grabbed his hands trying to stop him, but we both ended up in the watered field by the side of the road.
“Look what you did, you grouchy stupid idiot,” I shouted angrily trying to get up.
He looked at me spitefully and replied, “Oh, I’m the stupid idiot now,” then he grabbed me from behind by my collar and pulled me back into the muddy field.
We struggled for a moment. Then a girlish voice suddenly said, “Boys… Boys, stop this. You’re making fun of yourselves. You’re not fifteen anymore.”
I looked at the female who uttered those words, but the sun was in my eyes. I was unable to recognise her.
“He started this over ten years ago. This is payback time, Fatamia,” Salamio responded.
I wiped my face, and shaded my eyes with my hand.
My heart quivered as I stood staring at the girl, or rather the woman standing in front of me. She was wearing a blue dress with a grey apron. She wrapped her hair and bosom with a dark shawl. It made her shining face look like the moon amidst the night. She was supporting a basket that seemed heavy on her waist and held it tightly.
“Fatamia!”
“How are you, Qotazio? Long time no see,” she replied smiling sardonically at our appearances. I wasn’t embarrassed; she had seen me looking much worse than this. True that this was a very long time ago, but at that moment, it felt like yesterday.
“I’m fine. Well look at you, you have grown into a fine young maid. I still remember the weepy little brat chasing
Orabio and me into the fields screaming, ‘I want to play with you. Wait or I shall tell your fathers what you did.’ ”
She seemed enraged by my comment and said, “And I still remember the young idiot who stole the meat from the pot on our stove to feed his dog.”
“O, Lord! I only did this once. I was still young. Get over it. A man has to feed his dog, you know. Besides, I didn’t only feed my dog, I fed yours as well.”
“A man you say! Well, a man should ask for permission from the food’s owner and not steal it. A man should admit to his crimes when confronted, not accuse someone else of his crime. What was it that you said? Oh yeah, I remember,
‘It’s the little one, she fed it to the dog.’ ”
Salamio stared at me in astonishment and said, “O
Alaha… her too.”
“Hey, just in my defence, I only said this because I knew no one would touch her,” I responded flipping my sight between them both. Then I looked Fatamia in the eyes and said, “It was always Orabio and me who were punished because you couldn’t hold your tongue, little princess. You were like the future queen of the house whom everyone listened to and was eager to please. ‘O Father Rabio and Tazio did this… O uncle Tazio and Rabio did that…’
remember!”
When I imitated her childish lisp when her teeth were developing, her face reddened, and she retorted, “My mother made me write ‘I will never take anything without its owner’s permission’ a hundred times every day for a whole month… you don’t call this punishment.”
I didn’t know that she was punished, so I said, “Well, what about the beatings Orabio and I took because you tattled whenever we did something wrong?”
“That’s it, you were misbehaving. You deserved to be punished, but I didn’t.”
“If you knew how to keep your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have been punished, little girl.”
“Well, if you and my stupid brother took me with you every once and a while when you went out playing, I wouldn’t have stayed back at home tattling about the wrong things you did.”
“You were just a little girl, and little girls play with dolls, while boys play with swords, bows and arrows…”
“Swords you say! Oh, I get it. You mean that twelve inches wooden stick.”
“Hey, back then it looked taller than you did.”
When I said that, she was about to burst in my face. She pushed the basket harshly into my chest and said, “You are still the same stupid young boy I once knew. Bring this home with you.” She turned around and walked away babbling in a funny manner.
“You handled that well, haven’t you?” Salamio said.
I pushed the basket into his chest, picked an apple from the top and champed at it hungrily while I watched Fatamia walk away. To tell the truth, I was unable to lower my gaze.
A faint memory crossed my mind. My father and my uncle holding the hands of a three-year-old little girl, and bringing her home after she lost her parents. Memories overtook me, I saw her a bit older, chasing after Orabio and me screaming, “Wait for me.” I saw her crying every time we outran her and continued to play neglecting her cries.
“Hey, lad… hey…” and a slap on the shoulder brought me back to the present.
“What?” I said without turning or even blinking.
“Wow, where have you gone?” Salamio asked sarcastically.
I pulled him saying, “Let’s go.”
A while later, Salamio and I were walking on the grassy footpath leading to Uncle Nooraddeen’s front door. With every step on that path, I saw myself as a child crossing wooden swords with Orabio and Salamio. They were chasing after me trying to hit me, but I have always been a fast, evasive fighter. None of the boys in the neighbourhood
ever won a duel against me, not even all of them united.
The sound of barking interrupted my thoughts. Two old dogs came running towards us. I let my bag fall to the ground, got down on my knees, and received the old friends with open arms. They jumped on me, and the ticklish licking started.
“Antar… Boden… I missed you so much,” I said hugging the two dogs, the first of which was mine.
“You’re my favourite friends in the whole world.”
Salamio slapped the back of my head in denial, but Antar barked at him in more denial. I laughed saying, “Be careful, if he attacks you, I won’t be able to stop him.”
We were still fifty feet away from the door when we heard it squeak. An old man stood at its step watching us and smoking his pipe. He was wearing a blue garment atop a white shirt, and his turban was as well coiled around his head as always. The white in his beard had increased extensively since the last time I saw him. I got up caressing the dogs’ heads so that they would give me a break. Salamio and I flicked our clothes from the dry mud as we approached the house. We took a quick look at each other’s appearances then nodded silently in acceptance. On seeing my face, my uncle, Nooraddeen Al-Misrosty, took the pipe out of his mouth, his eyes grew wider in surprise, and he said stretching his arms wide open, “Qotazio my boy, welcome home.” He hugged me tightly, shaking with joy and excitement. Afterwards, he welcomed Salamio who said, “Peace be with you, skipper.”
I looked at them and said, “Skipper! Why are you calling my uncle skipper?”
The old man said in a loud voice, “Oh, Qotazio, I’m no longer an armourer. I build ships for the army now. I have my own trades’ vessel and crew as well. We import whatever the Misrostian army needs. I’ll tell you everything later.”
Two young boys suddenly came in chasing after one another. They rushed between us yelling loudly. When they saw me, they went mute. A young woman holding a plate and a spoon came out running after them and shouting,
“Children, come here…” Startled by our presence, she lowered her voice saying, “Sorry father, I didn’t know we have guests.”
My uncle signalled her to approach saying, “Ramla, I want you to meet Qotazio, Orabio’s cousin. Qotazio, this is Ramla, Orabio’s wife, and these young boys are your nephews.”
I was a bit surprised but felt happy for Orabio. I smiled at my new sister and said, “Ma’am, it’s truly a pleasure to meet the woman who succeeded in taming Orabio’s heart.”
She looked at me with her delicate smile, and said in a kind motherly tone, “I’m glad to meet the man after whom my son was named.”
I looked at the two boys in surprise wondering which one of them she meant.
She pulled the boys closer and said, “The one wearing brown is Salamio, and the one wearing green is Qotazio.”
I squatted in front of the boys and hugged them saying,
“I’m your uncle and your father’s best friend.” I wiped their heads and rubbed their little arms gently.
Their mother then said, “Come on boys, your uncle just arrived. Let him get some rest. You should finish your meal.” She walked away with the boys who looked back at me as they followed their mother.
“Where is Fatamia?” my uncle asked. “Fatamia, honey, guess who’s returned,” he cried out excitedly.
A few moments later, Fatamia walked in. She approached us giving me an angry look. I responded with a provocative smile. My uncle seemed surprised by her attitude. He said, “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you greet your cousin?”
“I have already done that father. I met him and Salamio on my way home, and he insisted on carrying the grocery basket for me.”
“Eh… well, that was nothing…” I said faltering.
She interrupted saying, “Oh look, he gave it to Salamio.”
She took the basket from Salamio, pressed it with one hand against her waist, and approached me saying, “He must have been exhausted from the long journey. Poor little thing,” and she patted, or rather, slapped my face with that last sentence.
Salamio almost burst into laughter, but he coughed his way out of it. She smiled at me provocatively and walked away.
I watched her walk towards the kitchen. When I turned around, my uncle was looking at me in a way I hadn’t seen for a long time, a way that usually meant, Now, what have you done?
I hemmed and said, “Where is Orabio, uncle?”
“Outside, cutting some wood,” he replied.
“We’ll go get him,” I said pulling Salamio by his arm.
“You will find him working behind the barn, boys. Go fetch him… and I will go help Fatamia.” He said with a grin, and I understood what the old man meant with it.
When we came out of the house, Salamio laughed and said, “That’s not over yet.”
We turned around the house and continued walking towards the chopping sound. Salamio grabbed my arm whispering, “wait.” He signalled me to flank Orabio and take him by surprise as we used to do when we were children. I shook my head in agreement, beckoned him to go left, and climb the tree under which Orabio was working.
We wrapped our faces with our turbans’ tails and began carrying out the plan. I looked around and saw a linen bag usually used for storing grains. I picked it up and trussed it; then I approached Orabio silently. I waited until Salamio was at the perfect location, then I jumped on Orabio from
behind, covering his head with the bag. He was the strongest amongst us, one foot taller than Salamio and me, and his body was extremely muscular. It didn’t take him long to succeed in freeing his arms from my grip, so I signalled Salamio to jump down and help me, but the dummy stalled for a moment afraid to jump. I gave him an angry, threatening look, and he jumped down screaming like girls. He twisted his ankle and continued to groan in pain. Orabio and I struggled until I was unable to hold him anymore. He outpowered me and freed himself, and then he attacked me. I tried to restrain his hands, but he was the one to restrain mine and pin me down. He pulled the turban’s tail off my face, and of course, he was shocked.
“What the hell? It’s you!”
“Yes lad, it’s me, you can let go now… let go, Orabio…
let go please.”
He got off and pulled me up staring at my face. After a moment, he smiled widely in a freakish way, pulled his arm back, and landed a nasty punch on my stomach. I doubled over coughing in pain.
“This is for staying away for ten years without visiting, not even once,” he said.
“I probably deserved that,” I said coughing. We laughed and hugged each other. The big guy actually had tears in his eyes. He wiped them quickly before any could come out and said teasing, “Who was that girl I heard screaming?”
“Help, I think I broke my ankle,” Salamio said in pain.
Orabio approached him, grabbed his leg, and squeezed his foot saying, “You mean this ankle.”
Salamio screamed hitting Orabio on the shoulder.
Orabio just laughed saying, “It’s just a twist. Nothing is broken, you idiot. Come on, I shall help you to your feet.”
We supported Salamio and returned to the house. Uncle Noor asked what had happened. Of course, we lied saying that he tripped, but neither the old man nor Fatamia bought whatever the three of us said. They didn’t even bother listen
when we hesitated. They knew us well enough. They probably guessed what could’ve happened.
We sat around the table. Fatamia and Ramla started filling our plates with their excellent smelling cooking.
After they sat down, we invoked Alaha to bless our gathering and our sustenance; then we started eating.
Salamio was eating as if he hadn’t seen food for days.
Orabio sat beside his wife, he asked about the children. She told him that she had just put them to bed.
Fatamia commented on that saying, “It’s enough to have one Salamio and one Qotazio at the table, no need for more children.”
“Keep me out of this young lady,” Salamio replied.
“Don’t you dare call me young again,” Fatamia said threateningly staring at Salamio.
He smiled and raised his hands as a sign of surrender.
I wanted to tease her back, so I said, “She has always been a haughty, angry child, hasn’t she?”
Orabio laughed pointing at me and said, “She sure has.”
We were laughing loudly when Uncle Noor hemmed in a sign for the three of us to shut up. Fatamia’s face was like a red tomato. She got up, approached me with the meat salver, and put, or more likely, dumped a big piece in my plate splattering some sauce on my face. Then she moved on to the next family member without uttering a word. As she moved away, I felt my heart wiggle inside my chest.
Uncle Noor sat eating in a handsome manner. I couldn’t help glancing at Fatamia every now and then. I noticed that she saw me, and she responded with her mesmerising angry looks. I felt hypnotised by her face. Happy, sad, or angry, she has grown to become the most beautiful young woman I ever saw. I picked up the piece of meat and took a bite from it glancing at her face once more, and… oh crap…
it was extremely hot. It tasted like it had a ton of red pepper in it. I coughed and was about to spit it out. My uncle asked Fatamia to give me some water. Immediately she got up
and handed me a cup of water. I started drinking so fast, and to my surprise, the cunning girl handed me a cup she had previously prepared. It was filled with salty water.
“Are you all right now, lad?”
I coughed some more saying, “I will be… I will be fine uncle… don’t worry.”
He looked at Fatamia and me suspiciously, so we just continued eating our meal. When we finished, Uncle Noor looked at my plate and asked, “Why didn’t you finish your meal, son?” I apologised saying that I was full, and couldn’t eat anymore. He turned around saying, “Fine, I shall throw the remainder to the dogs.”
Fatamia and I shouted together, “No.”
He turned around holding the plate in his hand and said,
“What’s wrong?”
Fatamia said, “Maybe Qotazio would want to finish his plate later, father. Besides, I have already fed the dogs.”
Uncle Nooraddeen nodded and handed her the plate.
After we washed our hands, we went outside to enjoy the lovely evening breeze. We sat enjoying the beautiful view of the starry night. They asked me about my trips, and the different countries I visited during my journeys. I told them about Shamalia and Eragonia. I described to them the difficult circumstances under which people were living.
The deterioration, which I had noticed in the countries of the region, was saddening.
While we indulged in our conversation, Fatamia offered us some juice. I hesitated to drink first, I just sipped a few drops, and it tasted great, so I drank it all at once. When my head came back down, I noticed that Fatamia was smiling like a child.
After a long while, we were exhausted and getting sleepy. “It’s time to go to bed. You must be tired and in need of rest, Qotazio,” Uncle Noor said.
“Yes uncle, actually I am.”
“Fatamia has already prepared the guest’s room for your stay. Rest until you regain your strength. Usually, I sleep late and wake up before dawn. If you need anything, just come to my room,” the old man said in a fatherly tone.
“Thank you uncle, you have always taken care of me in a handsome manner,” I replied in appreciation.
He smiled silently then walked towards his room lighting his pipe.
“Good, I shall take this idiot back home,” Orabio said.
He supported Salamio who groaned childishly.
Fatamia escorted me to my room. She grabbed a candleholder and led the way. When we were walking alone in the bedrooms’ corridor, I said, “What was that all about… some old childish vengeance?”
“What’s wrong? The young boy can’t digest an extra hot meal?” She replied opening the door.
“Fine, but don’t cry like a little girl when I retaliate.”
She looked directly into my eyes in the candlelight and said, “Don’t worry; I’m no longer a little girl.”
I was mesmerised by the beauty of her eyes and was unable to respond. She placed the candle on the small table amidst the room, and went out closing the door behind her gently. I looked around. It was the same old room we played in hundreds of times when we were young. On the table, beside the candle, I noticed a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I grabbed it and read what it said, You will find a warm plate of food underneath the sheet on the table. Eat. I know that you must be starving by now.
Don’t forget to bath. You stink.
I smelled myself instinctively; to my embarrassment, she was right. I folded the paper, put it in the left pocket of my shirt, and pressed it against my heart. I removed the sheet.
There was a beautifully arranged plate of warm food
waiting. A memory of a smiling little girl offering me the pie she was eating from crossed my mind. She’s still that little girl, I said to myself. I hesitated before eating, but the food turned out to be great.
She still likes me, I whispered happily.
4
I slept too late that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about Fatamia, and remembering our childhood days. It was as if I never left. The ten years I spent at sea were becoming so hazy in my mind. All I was able to remember were my days in Fastotia, and adventures as a young boy. The last thing that came across my mind before I blacked out that night was Fatamia’s beautiful shining face.
When I woke up the next day, it was almost noon.
I bathed, put on the clean clothes, which Fatamia had left beside the little tub. They were Orabio’s clothes as they were at least two sizes bigger. I folded the long sleeves of my outfit and did the same with the trousers. I combed my hair and beard, coiled my turban, threw the few dirhams I had in my pocket, and went out.
As I walked into the dining room, I heard the children playing. “Don’t make noise boys, your uncle is asleep,”
Ramla said.
“Bless you sister. I’m already awake.”
“Aha, good morning. I shall bring your breakfast in a moment.”
“No need bother yourself, sister. I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry, Fatamia has already prepared it. I will just put it on the table,” she said walking towards the kitchen.
I looked at the boys. They were sitting on the ground staring at me quietly with their cute faces and wide eyes.
I guessed they were about four and five years old. Qotazio looked older than Salamio.
“Good morning boys, what are you playing? Do you like playing with swords and shooting arrows like your father?”
I patted their heads, but they were still not accustomed to my presence, so they didn’t react casually as children always do. I tried to break the ice between us, so I picked a coin out of my pocket. I flipped it in the air a couple of times then said, “Tell you what, if you can tell in which hand I shall hide this coin, you can have it.”
I pretended to flip the coin again and grab it in the air with my left hand; while actually, I had dropped it in my right sleeve. I placed both palms closed in front of the boys and asked, “In which palm do you think the coin is?”
They pointed towards my left fist. I opened it, but it was empty. They pointed towards my right, but that too was empty. The boys were confused for a moment, so I said,
“Look,” and I started raising my left hand slowly as if reaching for something hanging from the ceiling.
Instinctively, they both followed my moving hand with their sight. I dropped the coin from my sleeve into my right palm, and pretended to grab something from the air with my left. I told Qotazio to hold my fist tightly, and then wiped behind Salamio’s ear with my right revealing the coin.
The cute child grabbed his ear thinking the coin fell off from behind it. Both kids laughed and giggled happily, and I knew we would be friends with time.
Ramla came in holding a tray. She placed it on the table saying, “You’re good with children. They shall love you quickly. Beware, they are cute little boys, but they are not as angelic as they seem.”
“At their age, they’re probably as naughty as children could be, but they are surely a bliss,” I replied watching the boys try to repeat my trick in the most peculiar ways.
“They sure are,” Ramla said smiling at her kids.
“Do you want to have breakfast with your uncle boys?”
“No Qotazio. Let them play for now, or else, they would torture me to eat their lunch. You sit down and eat; Fatamia has prepared this especially for you.”
“Where is everyone, sister?”
“You can call me Ramla like everyone else does.
No need to be so formal,” she said with a kind smile.
I nodded in appreciation for her courtesy then started eating. “I guess my uncle and Orabio are at work, but where is Fatamia?” I asked curiously.
“Father woke them up before sunrise. He ordered them to open your house and prepare it for your residence.”
I was surprised to hear that. I stopped eating and said,
“They really shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s all right. I’m sure if you were in their place, you would have done the same thing.”
“Thank you, sister. You are really kind, but I have to join them right away,” I said as I got up and left.
“Well, at least finish your breakfast…”
Before she finished her sentence, I was outside walking hurriedly towards my father’s farm. It was quarter a mile away from my uncle’s house. Our family has owned the lands at the far Eastern end of Fastotia for centuries.
When I reached the entrance, I saw Salamio and Orabio carrying some of the old furniture back into the house.
I heard the sound of dusting, and I spotted Fatamia standing at the corner of the garden slamming a duster against the furniture piece by piece. Her face and clothes were all grey.
I hurried and grabbed her wrist saying, “Stop that, Fatamia.
I should be doing this, not you.”
She looked at me in surprise and said, “I don’t mind some dusting. ‘I’m a girl,’ remember? Girls belong inside houses to cook and clean...”
“Hey, I never said that. Stop acting like a brat and give me the duster,” I said interrupting.
“Why should I give it to you, it’s my duster. Go find your own duster and come help if you wish. Till then, let go of
my hand and let me finish what I’ve started so that I may go back home and help Ramla prepare lunch.”
“I said give me the duster,” I responded pulling her hand violently.
The way she looked at me that moment broke my heart.
Tears filled her eyes. I never expected you’d treat me like this, that’s what they silently said. Shocked by my own insolence, I let go of her hand. Before I uttered a word of apology, she let the duster fall to the ground, wiped her face so that her tears wouldn’t show, and walked away.
I knew I had hurt her feelings in an ignoble manner, but that was never my intention. I just felt offended that she was the one taking care of me, while all I wanted was to take care of her. I picked the duster from the ground and started hitting the furniture in frustration. I continued to do this crazily until all furniture was clean, and my arm went numb.
I stopped to catch my breath.
“What was that all about?” Orabio’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned around and looked at him and Salamio without uttering a word. “What’s wrong, lad?
Where is Fatamia?”
Again, he received no answer. Salamio poked his arm saying, “Let’s carry the remaining furniture inside. We still need to mend the roof.”
“Guys, you don’t have to do this,” I said sadly.
They looked at me as they carried a big couch back into the house and said, “Shut up!”
I stood there alone for a moment feeling horrible, then I started carrying the furniture back inside with my friends.
The moment I stepped into the house, the place evoked nostalgic memories of my childhood days. As I walked in, I saw my father receiving guests at the grand entrance of the ground floor. I saw my mother, Aunt Mary—my uncle’s late wife—and other women sitting next to the fireplace and chatting. I looked at the garden from behind the window, and I saw my father, my uncle, and their friends sitting
outside discussing political issues. I saw myself as a child, Orabio, Salamio, and other kids from the neighbourhood playing at the far end of the garden. I saw Fatamia as a little girl standing near the fence watching, and waiting for us to give her a turn in whatever it is which we were playing.
On entering the office room, I saw my father reading and drawing maps of Misrost and the surrounding countries.
I felt him looking at me from behind the old desk with his gentle hazel eyes. I went upstairs, walked through the corridor peeking at the old bedrooms until I reached mine.
I stood at the doorstep. My small library was still there. My books and my old stuff were where I left them. I pictured myself sitting under the window, reading my favourite tales, science books, historical accounts, etc. Tales of the Andalusian knight, Tales of the awesome twins, Alchemy by Geber, Vision and scenery by Al-Hassan, among other great books. I sat quietly on the old bed recalling everything. It took me a while before I got up, and went down stairs to resume fixing the old house with my friends.
As I walked out, I saw them resting under an old tree amidst the garden. I walked over and sat beside them.
“When was the last time any of you came here?” I asked wondering.
“We come here more than you think, my friend. We nearly never leave,” Salamio said in a weird tone.
I looked at him unable to understand what he meant, so he elaborated, “Our hearts and souls never leave the place.”
Orabio threw a straw he was holding at him, and asked me, “Have you visited the family’s graveyard yet?”
I looked towards the fields saying, “I want to, but I’ve been procrastinating in a sense.”
He got off his chair saying, “Why don’t you go visit the graveyard while Salamio and I fix the few broken tiles on the roof.”
“No, I will help you. Salamio’s leg is hurt. He shouldn’t go wimping up there.”
“It’s fine. I feel much better than yesterday. Besides, I won’t ascend the roof, I will just tie whatever tools Orabio needs to the rope, and he will pull it up. No need to worry.
Go and visit your parents and ancestors. It’s about time.”
I looked at them in gratitude, turned around, and started walking towards the graveyard at the southeastern corner of the farm. As I approached, I watched the sign hanging atop the gate, it said, “From Misrostian earth, and back to it.
Be at peace children of Misroim.” The moment I passed through the gate, I felt serene and peaceful. It was like all the worries and stress in the world had faded away when I stepped into the yard’s space. In short, I felt secure, and it was a blissful feeling I haven’t enjoyed for a very long time.
I looked at the tombs and said, “May Alaha’s peace and blessings be with you pure, faithful folks. You preceded us to the eternal abode, and soon we shall follow you with Alaha’s will. May His peace and blessings be with those who return to Him with sound hearts, Amen.”
After this, I started visiting the graves one by one until I reached my parents’ resting place. I stood there for a while remembering their faces and smile, their benevolence and generosity. I recalled my father’s strength and gallantry.
I recalled my mother’s kindness and big heart. It was four years after I sailed with Karma that I received news of their death. They died of a pestilence that had spread all over Misrost killing thousands. Aunt Mary followed my mother one month later, and so did many of my friends and their folks. It was a bliss that I still had many members of my family alive and well. I stood there for a while then paid my respects and went back home.
“How did it feel?” Salamio asked.
“It felt calming and restful,” I replied as I sat next to him.
Orabio came out of the house at that moment and said,
“It’s done. A few more cleaning and some missing stuff to buy, and then you will be able to reopen the old house.”
“This is what I intend to do. Thank you guys for helping me out here, I’m in your debt,” I said in a grateful tone.
“We have been waiting for this moment and hoping for it more than you know, my friend. We lived here more than we did in our own houses,” Salamio said lying down in the shade of the old tree under which we were resting.
Orabio nodded in agreement and stretched his body next to him. I leaned my back against the tree. After a moment of silence, Orabio started crooning in a husky tone. It had been ages since I’d heard the words we wrote together when we were children. Gradually I remembered, and then Salamio and I joined in.
“No matter how far are the sides,
No matter how high are the tides,
We won’t give-up without a fight,
Together we’ll sail day and night.
No matter how dark and gloomy it gets, We shall endure till we see sun’s light.
Depression, we shall tear to pieces,
And our hopes shall breakthrough.
Desperation we shall subdue,
And our youth, we shall renew.
For as long as we shall live,
We shall learn, give, and do.
Till our freedom dream comes true.
Time is a cunning sword,
Strike it before it strikes you.
We won’t give up to life,
We’ll surely tame the shrew.
We’ll row against the stream,
Seeking those who share our dream.
Shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand,
Together we shall make our stand.
In unity, dreams are possible.
Together we’re undefeatable.
Our life won’t pass through,
Till our dreams come true.
These are our hopes,
And we shall never let go.”
That was one of the happiest and most peaceful moments in my life.
5
We returned to my uncle’s house before sunset.
We were able to smell the delicious cooking from outside.
When we entered, the dining table was already set, and the plates held the awaiting hot meals. Uncle Noor was sitting at the table with Ramla. I looked around for Fatamia then asked, “Where is the generous young lady who cooked this wonderful meal?”
“She’s taking a nap. When she returned, she seemed extremely tired and I didn’t want to disturb her,” Ramla replied in a gloomy tone.
“What’s wrong with her, Ramla?” my uncle asked.
“Nothing. Don’t worry father. It seems that some idiot lost control of his horse as he passed by her. She panicked and fell down hurting her wrist. I wrapped it in a piece of cloth soaked with camphor oil. She will be fine by the morning.”
Ramla then gave me a resentful look, which I understood. When she narrated her fake story of what had happened and said that Fatamia wasn’t going to eat with us, I hoped to drop dead out of regret for my terrible attitude earlier. They all ate except me. I kept on flipping the food on my plate without tasting it. When my uncle noticed this, he asked me why I wasn’t eating. I apologised asking him to excuse me for I had a late breakfast. After they finished their meals, Orabio suggested that we repeat the previous
evening’s plan, but I begged their pardon claiming that I was still tired and needed to rest.
“Fatamia arranged the room for you, Qotazio. She knew you wouldn’t be able to reopen your parent’s house so soon,” Ramla said in a dull tone.
I bade them goodnight and walked towards the guest’s room. As I walked through the corridor, I peeked at Fatamia’s room and wondered: if I tried to speak to her from behind the door, would the guys hear me? I was unable to resist walking over to her door, and knock as gently as I could.
“Fatamia, if I ever knew you, then you are still awake.
You never sleep that early. Fatamia, please forgive me. I’m just an ignorant sailor who knows nothing about girls...
hmm… I mean women, this I know for sure; but I’m not the ungrateful ignoble idiot you think I am. After I hurt your hand today, I felt like cutting mine off. Please forgive me or I will never forgive myself... Fatamia, if you ever grant me the chance to ask you for one thing, then to forgive me for what happened today would be it.” I waited for a moment but received no response.
“Tell you what,” I said in a light refreshing tone, “forgive me, and I will do anything you ask me to do for a whole month. If you agree to that, knock on the door from inside once.”
Suddenly the door opened, and there stood young Qotazio with his sleepy face and untidy hair. “This is not Aunt Fatamia’s room,” he said.
I felt like a total idiot. Of course, this could not remain her room ever since she was eight years old. She has grown to become a woman. She probably needed more space.
I looked at the kid in embarrassment and said, “Thanks, kid.
Sorry I woke you up. You can go back to your bed now.”
Before he closed the door, I said, “Kid… no need to tell anyone of what you heard, all right?”
He gave me a sleepy smile and closed the door.
I was about to turn around and go to my room when the next door suddenly opened. Fatamia was standing at its doorstep looking at me angrily. “A whole month you say?”
she asked.
I smiled and said, “Oh, thank you, Lord. You heard me.”
“A whole month?” she repeated with determination.
“Yes, if you forgive me right now and go eat your meal.”
She stretched her arm for a handshake and said smiling,
“Agreed. I forgive you.”
What a sudden change, I thought shaking her hand.
“Thank you,” I said suspiciously.
“No dear, thank you,” she said patting my cheek harshly the way she did the day before, and then walked away with a smile on her face.
I felt like driving her head through the wall when she did that; but instead, I wiped my face with my hand and swallowed my anger happily.
She walked through the corridor and turned towards the kitchen. I went to my room and sat there alone not knowing how to feel about what just happened. I got up, performed ablution and prayed, then went to bed. Many thoughts and ideas crossed my mind as to what Fatamia was going to have me do the next thirty days. The little brat succeeded in making worry creep into my mind. While I drowned in my thoughts about Fatamia, I heard three knocks on the door. I got up and opened. There was no one standing there, only a plate of warm food placed on the floor with a note at its side. I picked it up and read what it said, Eat. Tomorrow you shall need all your strength.
I smiled at her ever-childish attitude, took the plate inside, closed the door, and started eating hungrily.
6
Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…
A horrible ringing noise woke me up. I pressed my hands against my ears and sat in my bed in panic. I could barely open my eyes. The hazy picture gradually became clearer.
Fatamia was holding a bell in her hand, standing in front of my bed, and smiling coldly.
“Rise and shine sleepy boy, the sun will soon be up.” She said that then walked towards the room’s door adding,
“Breakfast shall be served shortly. From now on there shall be no special treatment or private meals.” She opened the door and went out slamming it behind her.
Here we go, I said to myself knowing that this was just the beginning of thirty whole days of childish behaviour.
I got up, washed my face, and performed ablution. I put on my clothes and prayed. Within a few moments, I was sitting with the rest of the family members in the dining room.
Fatamia and Ramla served breakfast, and we all ate. Uncle Noor was the first to get up. He said, “I’m going to the shipyard. See you in the evening, children,” and he left for work. A while later, Orabio got up saying, “It’s harvest time.”
I was about to follow him, but he stopped me and asked,
“Wow, where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to help you of course. Did you think I will stay here with the girls?”
“The girls are coming with me. You should go take care of your own house and farm,” replied Orabio.
Fatamia then said in a bossy tone, “Let him accompany you, Orabio. Soon he will have to learn all about farming; or else, how will he take care of his father’s farm? The house can wait; after all, it’s the farm’s outcome that will help him keep its doors open.”
Orabio hushed for a moment thinking then said,
“That’s true; you know nothing about farming. Even if you
choose to rent the land in exchange for half the yield like your father did, peasants will double-cross you, and steal from your share. How will you take care of your farm if you know nothing about farming?”
“What should I do?” I asked looking at them.
Fatamia gave me a fake smile and said, “Why don’t you help Orabio throughout the harvest season? Accompany him to the market so that you may learn how to negotiate for good prices and reach a good bargain for selling your yield.”
She grabbed a goad and a basket that held other harvesting tools, and pushed them into my arms.
“This harvest season, Ramla and I shall leave matters to you boys. We shall seize the opportunity, and attend to the children’s education. We wouldn’t want them to grow up becoming lazy and stupid, would we?” she said with a grin.
I shook my head in compliance then turned towards Orabio saying, “Let’s go, man. This is a brilliant idea.
I don’t know what we would have done without your little sister’s guidance?”
Orabio seemed a bit surprised, but he grabbed his tools, opened the door, and went outside. I gave Fatamia a quick glance then followed Orabio. We placed our stuff over a cart, and then Orabio headed towards the stable. He brought a fine horse, bridled it, and connected it to the cart. We sat side by side atop the driver’s seat, and started moving towards the farm.
“What’s going on between you and Fatamia?” Orabio asked curiously. “She always seems angry whenever she speaks to you.”
I smiled sarcastically and said, “Don’t worry, my friend.
I can manage some haughtiness from a stubborn little girl.
You know we have always had this kind of bull-heading between us.”
He laughed, and we both started remembering the tricks we performed against her when we were young.
Within a few moments, we reached our starting point.
Uncle Nooraddeen owned twenty acres like my father.
Orabio took care of them. He divided the land into four sections. The first was cultivated with corn, the second with zucchini, the third with tomato and okra, and the fourth with cucumber and green pepper. He told me that we were going to start with the corn.
“You know when to harvest your corn when you see the silk appear and has just turned brown while the husks are still green.” He grabbed an ear, squeezed it gently, and continued, “Feel that.”
I grabbed the ear he was holding and squeezed it.
“It’s a bit spongy, as if it’s filled with water,” I said.
“Exactly,” he replied excitedly, “this means that the corn is in the milk stage, and it’s ready for harvesting.”
He held the ear firmly, bent it downwards, and pulled it with a quick move separating it from the stalk.
“You try it,” he said.
I imitated what he did, but realised it was not as easy as I thought. Like a little idiot, I broke the stalk.
Orabio laughed and said mocking me, “Use both hands sailor boy. Go ahead, try again.”
He made me hold the stalk right above the ear, and then signalled me to repeat what I did the first time, and it worked.
“Hey, what do you think now?”
“You look like a five-year-old boy who has just written his name for the first time,” Orabio responded sarcastically, he then continued, “You have till noon.”
“To do what exactly?”
“To harvest the corn, and pile it in stacks at the end of every line. After that, you shall load them onto the cart bunch by bunch.”
“And what shall your majesty be doing while I carry out the hard labour?”
“I shall be doing the same thing from the other side of the field. If I reach midfield before you, then you will be the one to load the cart and guard the corn, while I go empty the cart in the barn and return.”
“Are you trying to trick me into a lost race? Do you really think that I’m that naïve?”
Orabio gave me a challenging look, and said in a serious tone, “Listen, smart mouth, if you want me to teach you how to become a real farmer, then you better start obeying whatever I order you to do. Otherwise, I suggest you find some softy dupe, who would accept to transfer his expertise to you according to your terms. What say you?”
I hushed for a moment surprised by Orabio’s seriousness and then said, “Fine, it’s a deal. I shall carry out whatever tasks you order me to do and you shall teach me how to become a real farmer,” and I stretched my hand in acceptance. We shook hands and started working.
“Can you see that scarecrow over at midfield?” Orabio asked pointing towards the strange looking straw doll.
“Yes, I can see something jutting upwards amidst the field.”
“Good. When you reach the line corresponding to it, you have completed your task for this morning.” He hit my shoulder with his rough palm and said, “Run along to your work, or you shall spend all afternoon loading the cart while I watch.”
He walked towards the other end of the field, and I heard him saying, “Farmer,” then he laughed in mockery.
Time passed by. Whenever I reached the end of a line, I tried to look how many lines had Orabio finished, but I was unable to tell. When I reached a bit deeper into the field, I realised how hard farming is. I was exhausted, sweaty, and incredibly bored. I finished harvesting the line on which I was working, and then walked towards midfield seeking to check on Orabio’s progress. Amazingly, the cunning man had already finished his half and stacked the corn in piles.
O, Lord! Is he really that fast, or did someone help him?
I wondered. I looked around but was unable spot him anywhere. He might be relieving himself; I thought silently then resumed my work. It was noon when I heard someone approaching. I turned around, and it was Fatamia. She was carrying a covered tray above her head. Apparently, she was bringing us something to eat. I lifted the tray off her head and put it down under the nearest tree then said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
She looked at me coldly and said, “I bring lunch every day to Orabio in the field,” then she started walking away.
“Aha, so you’re still mad at me you little hypocrite,”
I said in a provocative tone.
She stopped, turned around looking at me in anger, and then she approached the spot where I was standing.
“First of all, never call me little again,” she said poking my chest hard. “Second, don’t you ever dare insult me or call me names again,” she said poking me again.
“Well, those two are like the same thing… actually, they are the same point, dummy,” I said mocking her.
The next thing I remember was her red face, and her left fist buried in my stomach. I doubled over in pain unable to believe what she did. She punched me, turned around, and left without uttering another word. I watched her walk away. By all means, I knew that I was completely in love with the last girl on earth I ever imagined falling in love with.
I sat beside the food tray unable to think of anything other than Fatamia. She is the one for me, I thought to myself.
“Haven’t you eaten yet?” Orabio asked interrupting my thoughts.
“I was waiting for a cunning friend. He left me working in his field, and disappeared. Have you seen him?”
I responded.
He sat next to me and uncovered the plates on the lunch tray. His excited, hungry facial expression was hilarious.
“I finished earlier than I expected, so I went to the market, and informed the merchants I deal with that the corn shall be ready within two days. I also distributed part of the harvest alms to the poor and the needy,” he said taking a big bite from the boiled chicken breast he was holding.
“Why didn’t you take me with you?”
“You were working. From what I see, you still have a lot yet to finish.”
“I shall finish after lunch,” I responded pulling the last piece of chicken from his hand before he swallowed it.
We had lunch, and then I continued harvesting my part of the field. Orabio reattached the horse to the cart, and loaded the first stack. He drove over to my location and said, “I shall take this to the barn while you finish.”
I felt embarrassed by my lack of experience. “All right.
By the time you return, you shall find all corn ready for loading,” I said.
“I sure hope so,” he responded sardonically.
I continued to harvest the corn, and succeeded in stacking it as Orabio did, and then I rested awaiting his return. Looking around the field, I saw a young boy standing at the other side staring at me. He was the same young devil I met when I entered Fastotia.
“Hey, kid, get over here,” I shouted at him, but he smiled in a childish manner befitting his age, and ran away disappearing amidst the bushes surrounding the field. I was about to chase after him, but then I stopped wondering how stupid that would be. What a weird young fellow, I thought.
A moment later, I saw Orabio’s cart approaching.
I walked over to where it stopped, grabbed a big basket, and started filling it with corn. Orabio stopped me saying,
“Enough. You must not load the basket with more than what your back can bear to lift.” He grabbed a piece of cloth and tied it to one of the basket’s ears tightly. He passed it
through the other ear and pulled back covering the loaded corn. He grabbed the basket’s ear along with the tip of the covering cloth with one hand, placed the other hand under the basket, and pulled it up supporting it on his knee.
With a quick move, he lifted it upon his shoulder, turned towards the cart, and emptied it.
“Your turn,” he said.
I reloaded the big basket, but with less corn this time, then I did what he showed me. Some ears fell from the basket when I lifted it. That task was harder than I thought.
“Good, but next time, tighten the covering cloth a bit more. Let’s go. We must take all the harvest back to the barn before nightfall.”
I continued loading the cart for Orabio and rested while he went to empty it in the barn. I finished loading the last cart a few moments before sunset, then stood there wiping my sweat in complete exhaustion. Orabio signalled me saying, “Come on lad, we should get back before dark.”
I jumped on while Orabio started moving. He smiled at me sarcastically, and said, “Well done sailor boy. You have proven that you could make a good farmer.”
“Shut up,” I replied trying to bear up with the pain pervading my muscles.
We chatted and joked until we reached the barn.
We emptied the cart’s load, and then went into the house.
The view was most cheerful. The dining table was prepared, the good smelling food well placed amidst it, and our family members sitting there awaiting our arrival. On hearing the door open, the children came running towards their father and me. I was delighted with their warm welcome.
It seemed that I succeeded in making friends with them the other day. Orabio and I carried them up and hugged them, then took our seats amidst our family members.
I was unable to speak or think except of eating, bathing, and sleeping. Fatamia and Ramla served the food.
I ate quickly, and then got up saying, “Excuse me, uncle, I’m a bit tired. I shall go to bed if you don’t mind.”
He gave me a pitiful look and said, “Fine, but don’t sleep before I come to your room.”
I nodded, bade them all good night, and left. I bathed and prayed, then sat waiting for the old man. A while later, his knocks woke me up. I got off the chair, walked towards the door, and opened it.
“Come in, uncle.”
He walked in, and we sat facing one another beside the small table. He looked me in the eyes and said, “You are well educated; if you wish, you can come and work with me in the shipyard. You don’t have to become a farmer, or do labourious work like Orabio. He does this because he likes to work alone, and he loves farming. Besides, his naturally strong built suits the job.”
The old man’s concerned expression was heartfelt.
I always knew he loved me like Fatamia and Orabio.
“I appreciate your offer uncle, but I prefer to continue working with Orabio till I learn how to become a good farmer. I wish to take care of my father’s farm myself.”
“I can bring you farmers whom I trust. They will rent the farm in return for a reasonable sum.”
“No… really uncle… I wish to take care of the farm myself. It’s a challenge I’m willing to face.”
“Are you sure?” he said grabbing my shoulder.
“Yes uncle, I’m sure,” I replied earnestly.
He smiled and patted my shoulder, then went out closing the door behind him without uttering one more word.
7
Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…
Fatamia’s horrible ring woke me up again the next morning. “Get up. It’s dawn.”
I looked at her saying, “Really, are you going to wake me up every morning with that stupid ring.”
She gave me a scornful look without uttering a word and went out.
I lied back unable to get up. I was just about to close my eyes when… Ding-a-ling… Ding-a-ling… Ding-a-ling…
Immediately, I was up on my feet. The little brat anticipated that I would try to sleep again. She gazed at me in the same scornful manner then walked away. I resisted an overwhelming desire to throw something at her. I knew that even if my right hand tried to do that, my left would stop it.
Damn love, I thought to myself. I felt like a slave, but a happy one indeed.
After eating a quick breakfast, Orabio took me to the market. We inspected the prices and the corn quality. We visited many neighbourhoods, and then we went outside the city gates to meet the trades’ caravans of Shamalia and Pharania. Orabio spoke with many people. He asked about prices, desired qualities, quantities, kinds, etc. He watched the people selling and buying, and listened to their arguments about the qualities and prices. Every now and then, he would pick out a small lead pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket, and write down some numbers.
After grasping a fair idea about the market, we headed back to the barn late in the afternoon. My feet could barely carry me. Orabio brought forth a scale, prepared it for weighing the corn.
“All right lad, do you remember how many baskets you loaded yesterday?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” I replied unable to figure-out the reason behind the question.
“From now on, never forget the number of baskets you load. It will save you a lot of time later on. Yesterday you loaded a hundred and fifty baskets. Now, I want you to go load a basket similar to those you loaded yesterday, and bring it forth so that we can weigh it.”
I went into the barn, and after a moment, returned with the big basket filled in an approximate measure to those I loaded the day before. Orabio helped me hang it to the scale’s hook. Then he started increasing the weights on the other side until the scale became balanced.
“Seventy pounds a basket,” Orabio said. He picked out the pencil from his pocket, walked over towards the barn, opened a record placed on the bench beside the door, and started making his calculations:
70 x 150 = 10,500
10,500 / 35 = 300 bushels
300 x 2 = 600
600 x 2/3 = 400 silver coins.
“I want you to pay attention here, Qotazio,” he said turning the record towards me. “What do you understand from these calculations?” he asked.
I looked attentively then said, “In the first step, you calculated the approximate total weight of the corn we harvested yesterday based on the number of baskets you counted, and the weight of one basket. Then you divided that by the number of pounds the usual bushel holds. In the third step, you picked out the paper of information we collected today at the market and pondered over it for a while, and then you chose the number ‘2’ to multiply it by the bushels. I guess you found it a reasonable price for a bushel of your corn. Finally, you calculated the price based upon a one-third discount for the wholesalers, which means that you don’t intend to sell it in the markets yourself.”
He smiled widely and said, “Excellent, lad. What is the most important thing you learned from this process?”
“I guess I must study the markets carefully first before I determine the proper price for selling my yield.”
“Exactly, and this was your second lesson,” Orabio responded.
“Now let’s go home, enough for one day. We have been standing since dawn, and it’s almost sunset now.”
We went home earlier than the day before. The children were playing outside with the dogs. We joined them. They were thrilled and glowed with happiness.
“Come in boys, dinner is ready,” Ramla said standing at the door.
“Where is Salamio? I haven’t seen him for two days,”
I asked wondering.
“He comes and goes as he wills. You know him,” Orabio answered.
We entered the house, greeted Uncle Nooraddeen who asked, “How was your day, lads?”
“The prices are not bad father. We may actually get enough money this season,” Orabio responded.
“Good news always comes along with good people,”
Ramla said smiling at me.
Uncle Nooraddeen nodded agreeing with her, and so did Orabio. Fatamia looked at me coldly without uttering a word. I felt a bit angry at her negligence, but I kept it to myself.
We started eating. Dinner had tomato soup, which I loved so much. It was exceptionally tasty. “Which one of you ladies prepared this delicious tomato soup?” I asked directing my question to the women of the house.
“Fatamia of course, she’s the best one to make all kinds of soups,” Ramla responded smiling gently as usual.
I looked at Fatamia and said, “May Alaha grant you happiness for this, it reminded me of my mother.”
She looked at me with her angry eyes, but this time her anger seemed to soften, and a tender look that can melt an iceberg within a blink of an eye took its place. Our looks merged for a moment, and it felt as if time stood still.
“A bit more of salt wouldn’t have been so bad…”
I glared at Orabio who uttered that stupid sentence at a very wrong moment. He was drinking the soup directly from the plate like a cow drinking from a basin. Ramla passed him the salt saying, “Here you go honey… if there is anything left in the poor plate.”
He laughed saying, “Oh, don’t be embarrassed by Qotazio’s presence, sugar. I have seen him doing the same thing hundreds of times. The only difference is that I don’t spill,” then he laughed out loud.
“Huh huh huh,” I snarled imitating his stupid laugh.
“Boys, boys, eat your dinner quietly,” Uncle Noor said.
We resumed eating our dinner. When I finished, I bade them goodnight and went to my room. I wanted to live the moment again. I tried to remember Fatamia’s eyes and drown in the mysteries of their dark well again. I went to bed, and under the covers, I closed my eyes trying to evoke her beautiful face and tender look.
8
Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…
“Get up. It’s dawn.”
Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…
“Get up!”
Fatamia repeated approaching my bed, she pulled the light cover off my head, but to her astonishment, I wasn’t there.
“I’m right here,” I said sneaking from behind her. She was startled on hearing my voice. She turned around, and there was I smiling at her insanely beautiful face.
She stared at me for a moment, just when she was about to walk away, I grabbed her hand saying, “Wait…”
Her eyes widened, and she stared at me as if saying, how dare you grab my hand like this?
I let her go and said, “Calm down, please. No need to be so angry all the time.”
“No need to…”
“Shush and let me finish what I want to say,”
I interrupted her sentence. “I’m sticking to our deal here.
I do what you want for a month, and you forgive me; remember? I’m honestly doing my best to please you, so why are you always angry at me?”
“You have no idea what could please me, so shut up,”
she said in resentment.
“Hey, why don’t you speak your heart and tell me what is it that makes you angry at me all the time? What have I done to make you hate me so much? I have always treated you with a bit of puerility, I admit to that, but you never seemed to hate me for it…”
“Puerility! You think that your childish attitude is the reason behind my anger. Oh my God! You’re six years old,”
she said in a loathing tone, then walked away.
I stood there incapable of understanding what was going on inside her mind. I followed my daily routine, and without eating a bite, I went outside to catch the early cold breeze.
I wanted to cool off some steam.
Orabio followed me after a while holding two cups.
He stretched his arm with one of them saying, “Drink, it’s fresh warm milk mixed with honey.”
“I don’t want anything…”
“Drink. You’ll need it. The past couple of days were one thing, and today is another,” he said in a serious tone.
We stood there sipping from our cups for a moment.
After we finished our drinks, Orabio took the empty cups into the house, and then returned. “Let’s go,lad,” he said.
We walked over to the barn, opened it, and sat beside the door’s entrance awaiting the merchants’ arrival.
“Pay attention to the manner of bargaining for a fair price,” he stressed.
Three merchants arrived together. After inspecting the yield, and asking about its amount, they expressed their desire to buy it all for three hundred silver coins. Orabio looked at them sarcastically and said, “If I take it to the market, I will get at least double that price.” They raised their offer fifty silver coins, but Orabio said, “If I sell it to the travelling caravans of Shamalia, I will surely get double that offer.” He paused for a moment looking at the men sharply then continued, “If you don’t intend to give me a reasonable price, don’t waste my time or yours.”
This time they walked a few steps away from where we stood, conferred together for a while, and then one of them approached Orabio saying, “Four-hundred, Orabio. This is our final offer.”
Orabio looked away saying, “Fine, maybe next year.”
They looked at him in absolute dislike then started picking out their coin purses. “Next year you owe us a big discount.
These are three-hundred silver coins. We shall pay you the remaining hundred and fifty after we receive the complete amount of corn. Deal?” they said while they handed Orabio three purses, each holding one-hundred silver coins.
Orabio smiled saying, “May Alaha bless our weights and our bushels.”
“Amen,” they responded.
“When shall you send your carts?” Orabio asked.
“Right away,” they answered.
“Fine, we shall await their arrival.”
After they left, I asked Orabio, “How did you know that they would agree to pay four-hundred and fifty silver coins?”
“By experience. When we inspected the markets, I noticed increased demands for corn from the Shamalian merchants. This meant that the Misrostian ones would race for buying the yields available so that they may cover the demand. It also meant that the prices would increase in the coming few weeks.”
I was a bit troubled, so Orabio patted my shoulder saying, “Too many factors affecting one’s decision. Right lad?” I nodded in agreement, so he continued, “Don’t worry, when the time comes, you will be ready. You understood my calculations merely by one glance; remember?”
“Understanding calculations is one thing, and knowing how to bargain, sell, and promote are another,” I replied.
“What you just said is enough evidence that you have grasped a big idea about the main responsibilities of any farmer. Many farmers spend a lifetime without learning how to do those things. Cheer-up, we’re all with you.
You’re not on your own,” Orabio responded.
A few moments later, six carts arrived. Every cart had two teens riding on it. As soon as they stood side by side in one line, the boys jumped off. Orabio called the first team of bearers. He asked them, “Did you bring your own bushel, or do you wish to use ours?”
“No, we trust yours, Orabio. Hand it over, and we shall start filling, weighing, and loading our carts immediately,”
one of them responded.
“You shall find two beside the door. Just look towards your right when you enter the barn. Let’s go, lads. We have a lot of work to do,” Orabio said clapping his hands in encouragement.
The boys immediately went into the barn. Orabio looked at me and said, “You shall be responsible for counting the number of bushels loaded on each cart, and writing it down in this record under the names I shall give you. All right?”
“Don’t worry,” I responded confidently grabbing the record from his hand.
A moment later, the two lads returned carrying their filled bushels. Orabio adjusted one side of the scale at thirty-five pounds, then turned towards one of the two young men, “What’s your name, lad?” he asked.
“Shadeed,” the young man answered.
Orabio signaled me to write down the name, then he said,
“Let’s begin loading your cart Shadeed,” and he helped the lad hang the corn onto the scale’s hook. They watched the scale to make sure it was balanced. Whenever there was a decrease in the corn’s side, they added more corn ears until the corn outweighed the other side. Shadeed and his companion carried the weighed corn and loaded it onto their cart. Meanwhile, I counted the bushels they loaded, and recorded them under the names of the cart riders. I declared the number every time, so that all attendants can follow up with me, and have no later doubts about the quantity loaded.
After we loaded the first cart, Orabio told Shadeed to sign the record, confirming that he received the recorded bushels of corn. Shadeed did just that then drove away.
Orabio told me to change tasks with him. I stood by the scale, while he took the record. We continued loading carts the whole day. Whenever a cart delivered its load, it returned for a reload until the entire amount agreed upon was provided. Finally, there remained about ten bushels of corn.
“What are you going to do with the remainder?” I asked Orabio while we closed the barn doors.
“We shall store it for a few weeks, then grind it, and make corn flour. We store some for our usage, and the rest we distribute among those in need,” Orabio replied.
We walked back home. It was getting dark already.
Uncle Noor was standing in the front yard smoking his pipe.
“Welcome home, lads. How was the selling process today? Did you do well?” he asked in excitement when he saw us approaching.
“We did very well actually, father. Our profits this season are doubled, and there even remained more corn than we need to cover our own usage,” Orabio responded patting my shoulder hinting that I had a hand in this.
I hemmed in embarrassment and said, “Actually, it was all Orabio’s effort, uncle. I haven’t been anything but an extra load upon his shoulders.”
Uncle Noor grabbed my arm, and said in a calm, earnest tone, “Never think of yourself this way again, never. You are not a load, nor could you ever be. If only you knew…”
“Father, dinner is ready,” Fatamia interrupted what Uncle Noor was about to say. She was standing at the doorstep. I never actually noticed her presence except when she uttered those words.
The old man looked deeply into my eyes, shook my arm as if saying never forget what I just said, and then he turned around, walked into the house, and we followed him.
“Hey, welcome back,” Ramla said directing her words to Orabio and me. She caressed her husband’s face gently with her delicate palm.
“Good evening sister,” I responded, while Orabio kissed his wife’s hand saying, “Hello honey.” He looked around and asked, “Where are the kids?”
“They ate then fell asleep awaiting your return. I put them to bed a moment ago.” She looked at me excitedly and said, “Fatamia has prepared a special kind of soup for you today, I hope you like it.”
I nodded in languor saying, “She’s an excellent cook, I testify to this.”
I sensed some silence after my sentence. I looked around, and there was some resentment on everyone’s face.
I was extremely embarrassed and realised how vulgar that sentence was. It sounded like I thought nothing of Fatamia but a cook. That was far away from the meaning I intended.
Worse, it was furthest from how I felt towards her.
“No words can express my gratitude towards what she has done for me ever since I returned. I’m too ignorant to put my feelings in actual words,” I said looking towards Fatamia. She faltered in her walk while carrying the soup bowl. I immediately got off my chair, held her hands and the bowl between my palms, and our eyes met. At that moment, I wanted time to stop. I wanted to keep my palms surrounding her delicate hands like this forever. I wished to fill my eyes with her beautiful face and drown in the mysteries of her stunning eyes.
“The bowl is hot. Let go of my hands,” Fatamia said waking me up from my daydream.
I let go of her hands and grabbed the bowl. I placed it on the table then asked her, “Are you all right?”
She looked at me silently for a moment then said, “Yes, don’t worry. Cooks’ hands are used to carrying hotter stuff than you think.”
When she said that, two opposing feelings struggled inside my soul, the first was extreme anger at that girl’s stubbornness, and the other was warm, overwhelming love.
Part of me wanted to grab her and shout at her beautiful face angrily, and the other part wanted to pull her into my arms and protect her against the least pain in this world, even a thorn’s prick.
“Well, in this case, we better start eating before the soup cools down,” I said replying to her harsh response, and returned to my seat.
I knew that my last sentence must have landed on that stubborn brain of hers like a hammer, especially after the previous moment. I have to admit, although I loved that bullheaded girl with all my heart, I was also addicted to
driving her crazy. In fact, we both had that same addiction towards one another.
Fatamia grabbed the soup ladle in anger, I felt she was going to hit me with it, but she just poured a full scoop on my plate, and moved on to the next family member. We ate quietly; thereafter, one by one, we went to bed.
Later on that night, I sneaked out of my room and walked over to Fatamia’s door. I pushed a letter through the undercut into her chamber and returned to my room. In that letter, I wrote:
Dearest Fatamia,
No matter how hard I try to express my feelings towards you, I will always fail. No words can help me do this. I know that I’m the worst human being to express how I truly feel, but I’m going to tell you now what I’ve always been hiding, and what I’ve always been afraid to say to you face to face.
Fatamia, if there is one absolute truth in our relationship ever since our childhood and until the moment of writing this, then it is that I love you more than I love myself. I always have, and always will. If you believe the sincerity in my words, and you find within your heart the will to accept me as your husband, I shall be the happiest person existing. I shall ask for your precious hand from my uncle when the harvest season is over. If you don’t love me, and can’t find a true desire in your heart to accept me as your most intimate friend, life partner, and lawfully wedded husband, then please don’t disclose what’s written in this letter to a soul, and forget that you ever read it.
I shall wait for your reply for as long as it takes you to determine whether I’m the right one for you, or not.
Qotazio.
I stayed awake for a very long time unable to believe what I had done. I was thrilled to have taken that step and spelled out my feelings to Fatamia. I spent a long time in bed trying to imagine Fatamia’s reaction on reading my letter. I felt it in my heart that she loved me as I loved her, and the feeling was overwhelming to the extent of certitude.
I imagined her entering my room the next morning and throwing herself into my arms telling me that she loved me too. I imagined our wedding and life together in my family’s house. I pictured Fatamia’s beautiful face and tender smile receiving me after a long tiring day at work.
I even imagined our children playing in the front yard as we used to do when we were young. I fancied our romantic moments and every aspect of our life together as a married twain. The best picture I imagined that night was I holding Fatamia between my arms, filling my chest with her sweet scent, and passing my palm tenderly over her hair.
I don’t know for how long I stayed awake that night, but it was past midnight when I heard noise and clamour.
I listened for a moment trying to figure out what was going on. When I identified strange voices, I got up, grabbed my sword from under the bed where I had put it the first night I returned, ran out of the room, and jumped the fence of the few stairs into the house entrance hall. It was full of soldiers, and Uncle Noor was speaking with an officer who seemed to be their leader.
“What’s going on, uncle,” I said in a loud voice.
My uncle looked at me without responding. The officer to whom he was speaking turned and smiled wickedly saying, “Aha, the traveller who has returned. Isn’t this a happy coincidence?”
“What’s going on, and what exactly is your business in this house, officer?” I said harshly.
The officer walked over towards me saying in a strange sarcastic tone, “I’m here to search this house Master Qotazio Mohab Al-Misrosty.”
“For what purpose?” I replied with vehemence.
A sadistic smile appeared on the officer’s face.
He maintained it for a moment then said, “We are here searching for Salamio Hady Al-deen As-Shamaly. I have a warrant for his arrest.”
I was shocked to hear that. “What exactly is he accused of?” I asked.
The officer looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Your friend is accused of high treason.”
THE LEGACY 51
PART II
REVEALING SECRETS
9
I stood beside Uncle Nooraddeen and Orabio watching the soldiers search the house. Fatamia and Ramla sat behind us, each hugging one of the children in her arms following her feminine protective instinct. The soldiers rummaged every room. They opened every drawer, every cupboard, and every chest. They checked every scroll and every piece of papyrus. Obviously, they weren’t searching for a human being, but for something else, something much smaller.
After they finished, the officer in-charge walked over towards Uncle Noor. He stood facing him and said in a pompous manner, “You’ve been pretty cautious until now.
But soon, you will make a mistake, and I’ll be watching.”
“Believe me Captain Hazeem, I’ve never contributed to any activity that would harm my country, nor could I ever do such a thing,” my uncle said calmly.
“We’ll see about that, wouldn’t we?” Hazeem responded. “Let’s go,” he shouted harshly, and his soldiers followed him out of the house.
I didn’t utter a word waiting for Uncle Nooraddeen to speak first. To my surprise, the old man looked at us and said in the same calm mode, “It’s over. Go back to sleep.
We have a lot of work to do in the morning, and only a short while to get some rest.” He then entered his room, and closed the door.
I tried to stop him saying, “But uncle, what about…”
“Not now, Qotazio,” Orabio interrupted my sentence.
He grabbed my arm and continued, “We shall talk tomorrow.”
Clearly, a lot was going on behind my back. If I’ve learned something at sea, it’s that I should never hurry bad news, but I should always be ready for it. I stood there watching them return to their rooms. I peeked at my uncle’s door and saw that his candle was on. Its light was escaping the door’s bottom crack. I hesitated for a moment before
I found it inappropriate to knock on the old man’s door and ask for explanations at that time. I turned around and returned to my room. What a night, I thought to myself.
I sat in my room thinking about Salamio and his whereabouts. Now, what have you done you little idiot?
I said in wonder. Suddenly I heard three faint knocks on my door. I got up immediately and opened. To my surprise, it was Orabio. He came in and closed the door. I looked at him in astonishment. He was wearing dark clothes all over. He attached his sword to his belt. The scabbard was black matching his clothes.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Orabio handed me dark clothes similar to his saying,
“Get dressed, we have no time. I’ll explain later.”
Without hesitation, I put on the clothes he gave me then grabbed my sword and attached it to my belt saying,
“I’m ready.”
Orabio covered his face with the tail of his turban, and I did the same. “Let’s go, lad,” he said.
We sneaked out from a window at the back of the house.
Orabio led the way running fast with small, careful steps, trying to make no sound whatsoever. We ran amidst the bushes bending our backs to stay low out of sight. I had no clue where we were going. Nonetheless, I had no doubt that it was related to Salamio’s rescue. Hence, I didn’t need to ask any questions. I was ready to do whatever it takes to rescue my best friend. I knew by heart that he was innocent from such a false accusation.
We reached the fence of a luxurious house built near the southern borders of the city. Orabio kneeled amidst the grass and signalled me with his hand to get down. I took a knee behind him looking around to make sure that nobody was following us. Orabio pulled out a slingshot from the folds of his shirt, and a folded paper tied to a pebble from one of his pockets. He put it in the slingshot’s leather pad, pulled it back aiming high above the fence, and released it.
“Let’s go,” Orabio said pulling me. We started running towards a new destination. This time we delved into the city until we reached midtown. We sneaked in hiding behind walls, rubbish bins, boxes, barrels, etc. We stopped at different houses. Every time, Orabio pulled out from his pockets one of those small messages and shot it through an open window. It was clear that those windows were left open deliberately awaiting Orabio’s messages. Orabio was moving in the dark from one house to the next in absolute perspicacity. It was clear that he was following a predesigned scheme. We delivered half a dozen or so messages, and then we returned home before dawn. We entered the house the same way we left and locked the window behind us. I looked at Orabio and said, “I hope your father hadn’t discovered our absence.”
Orabio smiled saying, “Don’t worry. Now go to your room before he wakes up.”
He was about to walk away when I grabbed his shoulder saying, “Hey, tomorrow we shall have a long conversation mister.”
He smiled saying, “You mean today. Take a quick bath, and go to bed as if nothing happened. Fatamia must think you were sleeping when she wakes you up.”
O Lord, Fatamia! I thought to myself. I got distracted by the occurrences and forgot about her. I returned to my room, took a bath, put on a clean change of clothes, and sat beside the table waiting for Fatamia. I leaned on the table placing my head between my palms. I was drained of all energy, and I fell asleep.
10
Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…Ding-a-ling…
“Get up; it’s dawn. Hey…”
I felt Fatamia’s hand shaking my body. I opened my eyes and rubbed my face yawning lazily only to receive a hard slap on my shoulder. I looked at her in surprise unable to understand why she did that.
She stared at me in anger and said, “From among all of Alaha’s nights, you chose the night in which soldiers stormed into our house, flipped it top to bottom, and accused your best friend—a person we all consider family—of treason, to write me this letter!”
I got up responding in anger, “First of all, I wrote it before those idiots stormed into the house. Second, don’t you dare claim that you care about Salamio more than I do.
Third, I wrote it yesterday because I felt that if I do not spell out the feelings I hold for you, my heart was going to burst out of my chest. Forth, I…”
I hesitated for a moment looking at her face, so she said,
“You what?”
I hit the table with my fist angrily saying, “I love you, you stubborn brat. Do you think I care whether soldiers storm into the house, Salamio falls in trouble, or hell breaks loose upon our heads?” I grabbed her shoulders and continued, “None of what destiny holds will change how I feel. My love for you is unconditioned.”
She was staring at my face in anger. A moment passed without a word uttered, then Fatamia moved her shoulders saying, “Let me go.”
I let her go hoping to hear her say anything related to her feelings, but she just stood there looking me in the eyes. I was unable to understand her expression. After a moment, she gave me a nasty poke in the chest with tears in her eyes, and walked away.
I was bewildered. I didn’t have a damn clue whether this girl loved me or hated me. With all of what was going on, I wasn’t ready to handle her mind games… that was what I thought of her reaction back then. I stood there watching her walk out, and then followed her to the dining room.
Uncle Nooraddeen wasn’t there. When I asked about him, Orabio told me that he left early. We had a light breakfast and went to work. We reached the cornfield where only the corn stalks remained. Orabio told me that we should pull the stems out, and cut them down into equal lengths. He walked over to the corn stalks, grabbed one, pulled it out, and he cut it with his sickle in a quick move. He threw it at the same spot where we piled the corn three days earlier.
“Are you serious?” I said staring at Orabio’s face in anger.
“Shut up and go to work. This is not the time for your childish questions,” he said in a bossy tone, and walked towards the other end of the field.
I threw down my sickle, followed him with wide steps, and pulled him by his shoulder forcing him to face me.
“Talk to me like I’m talking to you,” I yelled at him.
Orabio threw down his sickle, and pushed me back, knocking me off balance. “What is it that you want to know you, dumb idiot? You were there, and you saw everything,”
he responded in similar anger then walked away.
I was unable to control my anger this time. I got up, and jumped grabbing Orabio in a headlock saying, “Who are you calling dumb idiot you stupid rhinoceros.” I was squeezing his head as I held him. He struggled to break loose, but my grip was strong enough to restrict his trials.
Suddenly he grabbed one of my legs and pulled it throwing me to the ground, then he twisted it hard yelling, “You little weasel, I will beat the living daylights out of you.” He pulled hard on my leg forcing me to shriek in pain. I tried to get rid of his hold, and saw an opening in his defences. I raised my other leg and kicked him in the solar plexus.
He let out a whoosh and released my leg. We got up to face one another once more. Orabio charged me first trying to trip me to the ground. Of course, the big guy had a bigger chance in such a position, but I evaded his attack and pushed him face first onto the ground, then I jumped atop his back grabbing him in a headlock from behind. He tried to break my hold, but I intensified it forcing him to give up.
We sat there catching our breath. Orabio got up first, gave me a strange look, and then said, “Go home, I don’t need your help,” he then walked away.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I said getting up and walking towards my sickle.
“Suit yourself,” he yelled as he continued walking away.
I was about to follow him, but I didn’t. I tried to continue working quietly, but more questions stormed my mind.
I swallowed my anger and poured it out on work. For hours, I kept on pulling out corn stalks, cut them to equal lengths, and stacked them at the end of every line. When I finished, I was surprised to see that Orabio hadn’t finished yet.
I walked over to where he was working and said, “I have finished my side. I shall check on my house and will return before sunset.”
“Fine, run along now,” he responded coldly without even looking at me.
We were both angry at each other, and I knew that this was probably going to take a while until we both cool off.
I walked amidst the bushes trying to rethink of what I had seen since my return. Parts of Salamio’s words to me seemed weird, so did many of Orabio’s reactions. Fatamia’s attitude was driving me crazy. Uncle Nooraddeen seemed a bit secretive. I was trying to organise all pieces of information and all scenes into one complete shape, but there was always something missing. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard some faint noise nearby. I looked around, but there was no one there.
It must be a rabbit or something, I thought and continued walking.
The moment my eyes fell on the house, I felt relaxed. No matter how tough life gets, returning home is always a cure.
When I passed through the front yard, I felt as if the souls of my ancestors were present. I felt they were watching over me and guarding the place. I didn’t have the key, so I approached the entrance, and sat under the large old tree amidst the garden. The silence was blissful. It helped me find some of the peace I returned to Misrost seeking, but never actually found. I was exhausted, so I stretched my body in the shade of the tree trying to rest for a moment, and I fell asleep.
I don’t know for how long I slept. It was a while before sunset when I woke up. I got up, flicked my clothes, and I was about to return to Orabio in the field when I heard some noise inside the house. I listened for a moment but heard nothing. I walked over to the front door and listened more attentively. To my surprise, the door was open. My muscles tensed, and I looked underneath my feet searching for something to hold as a weapon. I untied my turban and wrapped it around a rock I picked up from the ground. I opened the door quietly and sneaked in looking all around.
When I reached my father’s office, I saw blood drops on the floor and noticed some medical tools placed on the desk.
These weren’t here the other day when we reopened the house, I thought silently.
“Calm down,” startled me when someone uttered it from behind. I had already turned before the words were finished.
Salamio stood facing me in horrible shape. His arm was attached to his neck with a dirty piece of cloth, and a bloodstain covered his shoulder and collarbone. I helped him sit on a couch where my father used to rest whenever he felt tired from work.
“Close the entrance door first before you ask any questions,” he said.
I rushed towards the entrance and looked outside to make sure that no one was out there. I closed the door, locked it, and returned to Salamio.
“Where the hell have you been, and what happened to you?” I asked deliriously.
“That’s a very long story, my friend. I guess it’s time for you to hear it,” Salamio responded groaning as he tried to adjust his position.
His wound was obviously bleeding. I stopped him saying, “You will tell me everything, but after I check your wound and fix your bandages.”
I unwrapped the piece of cloth holding his arm and removed the bandage that was soaked with blood. The wound was still open and bleeding profusely.
“That’s a nasty cut, my friend. You need at least ten stitches,” I said calmly trying to ease up the matter.
Salamio asked doubtfully, “Are you sure? Couldn’t you just put a new bandage and tie it tightly?”
“Your wound must be stitched. You don’t want to catch an infection and die a painful slow death, do you?”
I checked the medical care tools on the desk. There was Alcohol, clean cloth, tying ribbons, and some poison antidote.
“I will get a thread and a needle from my mother’s cupboard,” I said walking towards my parents’ room. After a moment I returned with the tools I needed. I grabbed the Alcohol bottle, opened it, and poured some directly on the wound. Of course, Salamio shrieked and cursed. I ordered him to toughen up. I grabbed the needle, threaded it, and started sewing his wound. Fifteen stitches, that was what it took to close that nasty wound, set aside lots of subdued groaning and howling. I poured some Alcohol on a clean piece of cloth, wrapped it around the wound. Then I tied a ribbon around it lightly to maintain a normal blood circulation. Finally, I attached his arm to his neck with an old cotton garment.
“Don’t remove this band when you sleep, and of course, don’t sleep on your wounded side.” I opened the poison antidote’s bottle and continued, “Take a sip. It will help disinfect your blood.” After he complied, I asked curiously,
“From where did you get this stuff?”
“I received some help on my way here,” Salamio responded.
“When was the last time you ate anything?”
“I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning,” he said faintly.
“O Lord,” I said getting up, “rest for a while, I shall go pick something from Orabio’s field…”
“No, wait,” Salamio interrupted waiving his good arm,
“food is on the way, just sit down.”
“Food is what? Who else knows you’re here?” I asked attentively.
“You’ll see, just calm down, and listen to what I want to say,” he replied in exhaustion.
I pulled a chair and sat facing my friend. “What in Alaha’s name is going on, Salamio? I want to know the whole truth,” I said sullenly.
Salamio sighed deeply then started speaking, he said, “It all started before your father sent you away.”
I looked at him in shock, so he continued, “Back then, we were still young, politics wasn’t part of our concerns.
It was five years before you joined Karma crew when a general called Safin An-Nastory planned to overthrow the rightful king. He wanted to declare himself the high protector of Misrost. Of course, he was not alone in this.
Some greedy middle-ranking officers joined him. They were what we call power worshipers. They named their movement ‘The Nastorian eagles’ and took allies in the surrounding countries. They wanted to gain political support when they implement their cunning plan. For five years, the Nastorians recruited native traitors and spies.
Their main target was to seize control of Misrost and subjugate the neighbouring countries. They wanted to instate false leaders owing their allegiance to the Nastorian movement.”
“What are you trying to say? Are you suggesting that Misrost, Shamalia, Magharbia, Pharania, and Afraconia are ruled today by Nastorian agents?” I asked in astonishment.
“Apparently yes, but the truth is worse.” Salamio hushed for a moment thinking, and then he asked, “Do you remember the day your father and uncle brought Fatamia with them?”
“Sure I do.”
“Do you know who her parents were?”
“Yes, her father was a farmer named Aleyuddeen. He worked in my father’s farm. Her mother was a common housewife. She fell sick and died when Fatamia was three years old. A few months later, her father passed away as well. My father and Uncle Noor decided that one of them would adopt her. When Aunt Mary’s eyes fell on Fatamia, she became fond of the cute young girl. She asked to raise Fatamia as her daughter. My father agreed, but still, he always treated her as his own. I believe that he loved her more than me.”
Salamio hushed again staring at nothing, and a sad look covered his face. I asked doubtfully, “Why, what does Fatamia has to do with any of this?”
He hesitated for a moment then said, “Fatamia’s father was not a farmer, nor did he or her mother fall sick and die.
Fatamia’s father was among the officers whom that filth Safin tried to recruit. Safin wanted him to assassinate his general. He knew that this general presented a big threat to his plans. Aleyuddeen tried to refuse first, but Safin threatened to kill his family if he didn’t comply. As any loyal officer would do, Aleyuddeen managed to disclose what he knew about Safin’s plan to his general. That general was your father.”
Salamio observed my facial expression for a moment, and then continued in obvious distress, “Your father advised Aleyuddeen not to speak about this to anyone. He needed time to investigate the matter, inform the king, and prepare a surprise attack on the Nastorians. The next day, Aleyuddeen didn’t attend to his post as usual. Your father felt that something was wrong. He dispatched two soldiers to check on him, but the soldiers returned empty-handed.
They said that they received no answer when they knocked on the door and heard no voices inside the house.
Immediately, your father led a squad of soldiers and broke into Aleyuddeen’s place. They found him, his wife, and son, all tied up and slaughtered. His young daughter was the only one left alive. The assassins locked her up inside one of the rooms while they committed their massacre. Then they pinned a message to the room’s door saying,
‘She’s alive to stand as a reminder of those who dared say NO.’
The soldiers opened the door to find Fatamia lying unconscious on the ground. Your father carried her to your uncle’s armoury. He told him that he must raise her as one of his own, and defend her with his life if he had to. He was careful not to tell your uncle unnecessary information about the Nastorians to protect him and his family. They both agreed to tell the story which you know. Of course, your father couldn’t adopt the little girl himself. He believed that he and his family were next in the Nastorians’ assassination list.”
Hearing what Salamio narrated about Fatamia’s family, made a volcano of anger erupt inside me. Every inch of my body ached. I felt my blood boiling, and my pressure was high enough to make it punch a hole through the ceiling.
I sat there in absolute silence, unable to blink, listening to what Salamio was saying.
“After that, your father disappeared for a few weeks. He left you and your mother under the care of three honest officers he trusted…”
“I remember that my father went to perform pilgrimage at that period,” I said interrupting. Then I hushed realising that nothing was ever what it seemed to be. Salamio gave me a resentful look that I understood. I shut my mouth and let him continue.
“Where your father went, and what he did, no one knows. If there is something I may say, it’s that his mission was successful in delaying the Nastorians’ plan. Your father informed the king of what was going on. He brought forth witnesses and presented all the evidences he was able to collect. He advised the king to order the execution of the traitors. Unfortunately, the king hesitated in taking a quick decision regarding the matter. This gave the Nastorians the chance to take heed, and your father lost the element of surprise. Safin and some of the Nastorian leaders escaped and disappeared. However, your father knew that this wouldn’t end except with the death of those traitors and their officers. Hence, he spent the next few years gathering information. He studied every possibility of what could happen if they were to organise a surprise attack and try to implement their scheme by force. Finally, he came to one inevitable conclusion: the Nastorians would return to fulfil their plans.”
“How could that be possible? Their schemes had already been scandalised, and their identities were known,” I asked.
Salamio shook his head in disagreement, he said, “These matters are never that easy, lad. Your father was a man of great wisdom. He realised that the Nastorians’ success depended on two main elements: people’s educational and economic conditions. He conferred with the king and suggested a plan of action. He advised King Saifuddeen to increase the size of agricultural production and commercial interaction between Misrost and its neighbouring countries.
The king took the advice and ordered the preparation of a new fleet of commercial ships. Among them was Karma, the ship to which you were assigned ten years ago. As for education, your father advised the king to bring closer to his court scholars, writers, poets, and thinkers. He wanted the king to benefit as much as possible from their thoughts and ideas. Meanwhile, he wanted all people to see that those who are knowledgeable are the leaders of the community and the king’s close advisors. Hence, they would all aspire to raise well-educated children themselves.”
Salamio stopped to catch his breath, and then he resumed saying, “Do you remember the poets’ movement that reached its peak a couple of years before you left? It was part of your father’s plan. He wanted to uplift people’s taste, and train them to think logically. He was convinced that poetry is one of the most effective tools in education…”
“Yes, I remember that. He always bought me many books, not only of poetry, but also of various subjects. He sure was fond of knowledge,” I responded affected by Salamio’s description of my father. I missed him so much, but what Salamio was telling me, made me miss him even more.
“In addition, he assigned some of his most talented officers to hold training camps for prominent male children.
He ordered his officers to train the young boys on sword fights, archery, horse riding, and swimming. In short, he was trying to raise a well-educated, capable generation that can defend, maintain, and lead the country.”
“Of course, I remember the first time you, me, and Orabio joined those camps. They were wonderful. I wouldn’t have managed to stitch your wound without the medical training I received in those camps.”
“True. You also wouldn’t have performed magnificently on Karma and become its captain when you were just twenty-four years old,” Salamio said in a sly tone.
“What? How did you know about my performance on Karma?” I asked in surprise trying to find a logical answer.
In fact, I was embarrassed to tell them that Karma sank while I was its captain. No one knew about this. “Hey, what else have you been hiding from me?” I asked angrily.
At that moment, we heard three hard knocks on the door.
We got up hurriedly. Salamio signalled me that he was going to hide while I open the door. I waited a moment to give him a chance to walk towards the end of the corridor.
I pulled a rug over the bloodstain on the floor and hid the medical tools I used in sewing his wound under my father’s desk. Then I rushed towards the door and opened it. There, Orabio stood carrying a huge tray holding covered plates atop of it. I looked at him in total astonishment, so he said,
“Open both shutters, you idiot.” I unlocked the other shutter and opened the door. Orabio entered, walked over to the dining table, and placed the tray on it. He then looked at me and asked, “Where is he?”
I stared at him doubtfully and asked, “How did you…”
He shook his head in denial and walked directly towards the room where Salamio was hiding. I locked the door again still unable to assimilate all of this, and then I followed him.
“It’s me,” Orabio said standing amidst the room.
“Help me out of here,” Salamio responded somewhere from behind a closet Orabio was facing.
Orabio opened the closet’s door, pressed a specific shelf lightly, and pushed it inwards. Surprisingly, the lower part at the back of the closet opened. The big boy got down on his knees and helped Salamio crawl out. I was stunned. This was my house, and I never knew about that secret place.
“Are you going to stand there looking like a total idiot, doing nothing? Help me pull him out,” Orabio said in fatigue.
I got down and helped him pull Salamio out of the tight space. “How did you get in, in the first place?” I asked unable to figure that out.
Salamio pointed downwards and said, “It’s easier to crawl in with one arm, but coming out is not as easy as you think.”
“How did you two know about that place?”
“We discovered it in your father’s diaries,” Salamio answered.
“My father’s diaries! What diaries? And how did it come to you?”
“Calm down, Qotazio. I’m not finished with my story yet,” Salamio said interrupting my burst of anger.
“How much have you told him?” Orabio asked.
“You will know when you listen. Let’s get back to the office room and eat first, and then I shall continue the story.”
“You have to be kidding,” I said in denial, but they just left me standing there, and walked out of the room.
Salamio rested on the office’s couch, while Orabio brought the food tray. I brought a small table and placed it in front of Salamio, then pulled another chair for Orabio to sit beside me. The three of us sat there eating silently.
Orabio and I were barely eating. On the other hand, Salamio was voracious. I didn’t like this tension between Orabio and me. I looked at him and said teasing, “Hey, get over it, it’s the first time for me to kick your ass in a fair fight.”
He looked at me sarcastically and said, “I can’t remember hitting you on your head, did you get a sunstroke?”
Salamio laughed and continued eating like a hungry beast. I looked at Orabio in anger and said, “Of course, mighty Orabio is embarrassed to admit that he lost in a fair fight.”
Salamio continued to laugh pointing at me in a ridiculing manner.
“No, seriously, I forced him to give up…” I hushed for a moment, and then continued in a slower calm tone,
“Unless that was what he wanted me to think.”
I looked at Orabio and said, “You provoked me so that I would lose my tempers. You started that fight and faked everything to make me return home, and consequently, help Salamio.”
“Aha,” Orabio uttered winking at Salamio, “I told you he’s a smart boy.”
“But why didn’t you just tell me to do so, and how did you know Salamio would be here?” I asked hurriedly then realised the stupidity of my question, so I continued, “Never mind that question.”
I looked at them and said, “Whatever it is that you are doing guys, I want to be part of it. Otherwise, I swear I’ll give you in myself.”
Orabio was about to take a bite when I uttered that last sentence. On hearing it, he dropped the bread loaf from his hand and grabbed me in a headlock saying, “You’re going to do what? Say that again because I didn’t hear you well.”
“All right, I’m just kidding,” I shouted in pain, but Orabio intensified his hold saying, “and whose ass did you say you kicked a moment ago?”
“I admit I was an idiot. Let me go please,” I said in pain.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Orabio said letting me go, and he continued eating.
I rubbed my neck in pain saying in spite, “You dumb…”
“Eat your meal, you must be starving,” he interrupted in a bossy tone.
I looked at Salamio who was smiling in amusement.
“What are you smiling at? He can kick your ass too,” I said then I started eating, but this time, with an open appetite.
11
When we finished eating, it was sunset already. Orabio used a fire starter kit to light a rod, and then he lit the candles inside the room. He closed the curtains and joined me listening to Salamio.
“Our generation was the first fruit of your father’s efforts, Qotazio. He was preparing us to defend Misrost and its people against whatever destiny holds. He was preparing us to bear the legacy of our ancestors and protect it against distortion. Whenever a child exceled at something, his mentors raised their recommendations as to the field in which he should serve. The king adopted these recommendations into his plans. He conferred with his close advisers, and together, they decided what’s best for every case. As soon as any child turned fifteen, he received an assignment to a post that suits his capabilities and interests. This was how you received a post on Karma, and how Orabio became a farmer and trader, and so on…”
I interrupted asking, “What about you, Salamio? I would like to know what your assignment was.”
He gazed at me silently for a moment then said, “Ever since my childhood I loved poetry and literature so much. I used to spend hours in writing if you remember.”
I nodded in agreement.
Salamio continued, “When my reputation as an eloquent speaker reached the king. He made me his secret envoy.
Who would doubt a fifteen years old boy to be the king’s envoy! At first, I delivered verbal and written messages to his loyal men inside Misrost. Later on, I became a contact link with our allies in the whole region. No one knows about this except Orabio and your uncle. Everyone else thinks that I’m the lazy boy who inherited the diner from his father, and is running it to the ground.”
“If so, then how did Hazeem discover that you are a spy?” I asked.
“He didn’t discover anything. Hazeem is nothing but a bully. He and his master hate Al-Misrosty family. They always seek any opportunity to harass them and their friends. His men saw me leaving the city a couple of days ago and informed him. He only invented this accusation to intimidate your family, and provoke you in particular.”
I wasn’t convinced, so I asked, “But why now, and why did they try to kill you?”
He smiled and said, “You will know the answer to your question in the right time. For now, let me continue the story. It has become crucial that you know what happened in the past to understand the current situation.”
“Agreed,” I responded leaning back in my chair, giving Salamio the chance to continue without interrupting.
“After what happened, the king instated your father as his high counsellor and chief of staff. The measures they took were extremely effective. Its fruit was not only evident inside Misrost, but also all-over the region. Our neighbouring countries adopted similar courses of action.
Many of their youths came to Misrost to learn in our schools. Meanwhile, some of the Misrostian mentors travelled to the neighbouring countries and transferred their knowledge to our allies. The Nastorians came to realise that if they waited any longer, their failure in taking over Misrost and the region would become absolute. Their predicament was triple fold. First, the righteous king, and his intelligent, loyal counsellors. Second, the highly educated, well prepared, growing generation. Third, the people who were becoming more enlightened than any time before.”
Salamio was glowing with pride as he spoke, but suddenly his eyes and voice reflected deep sadness, and he continued, “Sensing that their plans were about to fail, they decided to carry out a devilish scheme. In response to your father’s idea of raising a strong generation, they took under their wing false religious figures. Their main task was to promote the Nastorians’ political creed, but with a religious tinge. They aimed to create blind fanatics, ready to follow without asking any questions. A special kind of obsessed ignorant maniacs who think that they are following Alaha’s orders, while actually, they are following Safin’s will.
Those figures rose everywhere, inside and outside Misrost.
They preached that the king’s authority was sacrilegious and it should be abolished. They belittled the status of scholars and thinkers claiming that their teachings distracted people from Alaha’s path. Those idiots even condemned acknowledged religious scholars and accused them of hypocrisy. Unfortunately, their plan turned out to be more successful than expected. Within a couple of years, many agitators started rising all over the country, and then the neighbouring countries. A horrible tumult started eating the whole region and tearing it apart. Of course, this was the best chance for the Nastorians to attack. They were supported by greedy army officers who found this move a perfect host for their misguided desires…”
Salamio paused and exchanged a weird look with Orabio. He hesitated for a moment, but Orabio signalled him to continue, so he said, “Your father tried to defend the king’s castle and Fastotia with all the soldiers he had. He succeeded in holding the defences and forced the Nastorians to stop their attacks. Then one night, one of your father’s officers killed him while he was prostrating in his prayers. After that, he succeeded with the help of some religious fanatics in opening the gates of Fastotia before sunrise. Ever since that day, Misrost was lost. Those traitors and their foreign allies have seized control of everything.”
On hearing this, I felt as if a huge rock dropped deep inside my chest. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even frustrated. I felt as if an entirely new entity was growing inside my soul and taking over the person I once knew as
‘me.’
Salamio and Orabio were looking at me worriedly. They were probably waiting for a typical angry reaction, but to their surprise, nothing happened. I just looked at Salamio, and asked, “How did my mother die?”
Sorrow showed on Salamio’s face when he responded,
“After your father’s martyrdom, his body and banner were brought back home by some of his loyal officers.
Your mother said that there wasn’t a more honourable death. She insisted on burying your father without cleaning his body from the blood, or even shrouding him with clean clothes. ‘There is nothing more clean or pure than a martyr’s blood,’ she said. A few months later, she died in grief sleeping in her bed. Aunt Mary cleaned her body with Fatamia’s help. They shrouded her with your father’s banner based on her own will. Orabio and I buried her in the cemetery next to your father.”
Salamio wiped a tear that escaped his eye. Silence fell upon the room for a moment.
“What about the traitor who killed my father? What became of him?” I asked.
Salamio didn’t answer. It was evident that he had held the burden of hiding this for a long time. Orabio placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “He was instated by the Nastorians as chief of staff instead of your father. He is the same man you were escorted to meet when you first arrived in Misrost.”
12
A while after Orabio left that night, Salamio and I spread an old sheet on the floor inside my father’s office. I brought some pillows and turned off the candles. It was a full moon night, and its light filled the house through the glass windows. I lied there beside Salamio knowing that I won’t be able to sleep. What I heard that night, was enough to steal away any desire to rest.
“So, you and Orabio are part of a resistance movement against the Nastorians?” I said knowing that Salamio was still awake.
“Yes,” he said calmly.
“What about Uncle Nooraddeen? He sure knows about your activities. Is he too part of your movement?”
“To a certain extent, yes, but he is not that involved.”
“Who is the leader of the resistance? Who is the mastermind behind its plans and strategies?” I continued asking persistently.
“He is one of your father’s trusted officers,” Salamio said in a weird tone.
I rose up leaning on my left elbow, and looked at Salamio saying, “I want to meet him.”
“You can’t,” he replied.
“Tomorrow Salamio, tomorrow,” I said with absolute determination.
Salamio looked me in the eyes and said, “Qotazio, I understand how you feel, we all feel the same way, but things cannot be dealt with randomly, this is not what your father taught us to do. We must be wise and cautious.”
“Fine, I will find him myself,” I replied lying back in my place.
Salamio continued to look at me angrily and said,
“He is not in Misrost. That’s all I can say for the moment.”
“So am I supposed to continue living normally after what I have learned last night?” I said in denial.
“Absolutely, you must not draw any attention. Do you think that you are not watched all the time? No doubt Sasan’s spies are recording all your movements, and informing him of every detail?” Salamio said nervously.
“So his name is Sasan,” I said in aversion.
“Yes, that’s his name,” Salamio replied in a low voice.
I remained silent for a moment trying to think then said,
“I shall continue helping Orabio during the harvest season.
Meanwhile, you will prepare a meeting between the resistance leader and me. I’m sure that he will find me something more useful to do than harvesting,” I added in contempt.
On hearing this, Salamio turned towards me groaning from his wound, and he said in a burst of anger, “If you think that farming is all Orabio is doing, then you’re an idiot.”
I was about to respond to his words, but it seemed pointless, so I turned around adjusting my pillow and said,
“Get some rest, you will need it.”
I knew that he continued to stare at me angrily for a moment before he lied back again.
The next thing I remember is that I opened my eyes near midnight hearing Fatamia’s ring. Of course, she wasn’t there. All I heard when I woke up was Salamio’s snoring.
I looked at him, and the idiot’s head was tilted. I adjusted it in order to stop the disturbance of this human horn, but he just tilted his head again and continued to snore. I was amazed at how he was able to sleep with all that noise coming out from the nearest location to his ears! I got up, walked over to the window, and stood behind it looking towards the sky. I felt utterly lost between too many thoughts. I was unable to sleep or think straight. I turned around and went to my parents’ room. I opened the door and stood there for a moment looking at their bed in the moon’s light. I walked over to their closet and opened it. It held no clothes except my mother’s wedding dress, and one of my father’s nice garments. I was surprised to see that they were kept clean and perfumed. Of course, Fatamia must have taken care of that, I thought. I spread the garment and looked at it admiring its nice green fabric and eye-catching brocaded style. My father sure was a handsome man, I whispered remembering his appealing figure.
I folded the garment again and placed it back in place.
Before I closed the closet, I pulled the drawers looking for tokens, or any clue that might enlighten me, or give me a sign as to what I should do, but found nothing. I was just pushing the drawers back in place when one of them got stuck. I pushed harder, but it seemed jammed. I squatted and pulled that drawer completely out of its place to fix the problem. I reached inside the drawer’s cavity checking on its sliding slots, trying to discover what’s obstructing its movement. It was then that my hand hit something loose.
I grabbed it and pulled out. To my surprise, it was my mother’s little jewllery box; she used to keep her precious rings and necklaces in it. I turned the small lock at its front, and opened it. There was a folded piece of paper having my name on it, along with my mother’s wedding ring. I approached the window, opened the paper in the dim light coming in, and read what it said,
Dear son,
If you ever find this letter, then know that this is your father’s will, he delivered it to me orally before his death by a few weeks. He said, ‘Tell Qotazio that if I was destined to die before I see him again, then he must go to his uncle and obey his orders literally without any questions. Tell him that I’m proud of him, and I trust he will always find a way to make victorious what’s right.’
Qotazio darling, this was your father’s will and last words to you. Follow them carefully and do not swerve lest you lose your way. Know that your father and I love you so much. Watching you grow up was our greatest joy in life, so live well, and make us proud.
Your Mother.
I read the letter over and over again in that dim light until my eyes hurt. I folded the paper and put it back inside the box along with my mother’s ring. I hid the box properly behind the closet’s drawer and pushed the drawer back in its place. I grabbed my mother’s praying rug from above the chair placed beside the room’s door, spread it on the ground beside the window, and lied down seeking to get some sleep before sunrise. That was the second time I tried to sleep that night. The only difference was that I knew what I should do. This granted my thoughts some rest, and granted my mind a small measure of peace, at least for a while.
13
“Wake up… hey lad,” I repeated trying to wake Salamio up the next morning. I received no response first, then suddenly he opened his eyes and tried to get up in panic, but his wound hindered him.
“Calm down, it’s just me,” I said.
“Why are you dressed up? Where do you think you’re going?” Salamio asked staring at me suspiciously.
“I’m going over to my uncle’s house,” I responded handing him a plate holding the remnants of our previous dinner.
“Have breakfast and wait here till I return,” I said adjusting my garment and turban.
“What the hell happened during the night?” Salamio asked unable to understand the change he noticed in my attitude.
I looked at him smiling confidently and said, “A lot my friend, a lot,” then I turned around and walked away hearing him say, “Don’t you dare do anything stupid, I’ve seen that look on your face a thousand times before.”
A short while later, I was standing in front of my uncle’s doorstep. Orabio opened the door, and looked at me in wonder.
“Everything is all right, don’t worry, I’m here to see my uncle,” I said.
“He has already left,” Orabio responded pausing in doubt then he continued, “Why do you want to see him?”
I smiled without responding and walked away.
“Hey lad, wait. I’ll come with you,” he shouted, but I continued to walk in my usual wide steps heading towards the shipyard.
Walking down the streets, I couldn’t help noticing that people were looking at me more than they looked at one another. Probably they were wondering who I was, or they knew who I was. On reaching the shipyard, I looked around
searching for the old man. I asked one of the men working there, “Where can I find Skipper Nooraddeen Al-Misrosty?”
The man pointed towards a huge ship under construction at the end of the shipyard’s wharf. I approached the beautiful ship admiring its well-constructed strong body.
I checked on the keel, and the perfectly spaced bolts connecting its metal sheets, the highly professional welding of the spaces in between, the caulking method was the best I had seen. I looked at the rudder, and its connecting tiller, they were made from a kind of metal, which I guessed was an iron-brass alloy…
“What do you think?” Uncle Nooraddeen’s voice startled me.
“It’s a beauty uncle, it sure is a beauty,” I said in a longing voice.
He looked at me silently for a moment, and then asked,
“What brought you here? Why aren’t you with Orabio in the field?”
“ ‘Go to your uncle, and obey his orders literally without any questions,’ this was my father’s last will.”
My uncle shook his head in understanding and said,
“Then return to your cousin, and continue helping him during the harvest season.”
I felt incredibly disappointed and unworthy even of my uncle’s trust. I nodded in obedience, and was about to turn away when Uncle Nooraddeen said, “Nothing is ever unimportant kid. Harvesting will teach you that everything has its proper timing.”
I smiled crookedly and left heading back towards the field. I was extremely frustrated, and anger was starting to build up inside of me. I hated the feeling, but I was intent to follow my uncle’s orders no matter what. I was walking by the riverbank when I saw the same officer who searched Uncle Nooraddeen’s house the other day. Three soldiers were in his company. They looked at me threateningly.
I continued walking trying in vain to convince myself that this could be the usual location of their morning post. When I was about to pass by them, the officer stopped me and said, “Hold it right there.”
I stopped and looked at him coldly.
He smiled and said, “Where are you going, Qotazio?”
“I’m going to help my cousin. It’s harvest season.
We have a lot of work to do,” I responded.
“And where are you coming from?” he asked after a pause trying to provoke me.
“I went to see my uncle at the shipyard,” I answered knowing that my short answer will urge him to ask more questions.
“And why did you want to see him?” he asked, but this time, a sense of anger started to appear in his tone, and this was what I sought. I wanted Hazeem to know that this imperturbability game was not one-sided.
“I wanted to ask him about something,” I responded with indifference looking the other side.
This time, Hazeem looked at his soldiers in a way they understood, and moved forward a couple of steps saying,
“Oh yeah, and what was that?”
I looked him in the eyes, smiled, and said lightly, “I can’t tell you. It was a private matter.”
Hazeem seemed enraged with my attitude. He placed his hand over my shoulder roughly and said, “Well then, let’s go to my office and chat about this some more,” he was about to pull me by my garment when I grabbed his fist, bent over, and turned around holding his wrist. Within a blink of an eye, I was twisting his arm behind his back.
I held him like this for a moment, then let go. Of course, the whole situation was on the verge of bursting. The soldiers were about to attack me with their horsewhips. Hazeem turned in anger and reached out with his hands trying to grab me, but I squatted on one knee turning left, and I let him trip over my right calf and fall on his face.
As I rose up, I grabbed a soldier’s hand before it landed on my head with his stupid whip. I turned around myself, and twisted his arm behind his back. The soldier yelped in pain and let the whip go. I grabbed it before it touched the ground and delivered a mule kick to the soldier’s ass, forcing him to land on his face like his commander. The remaining two soldiers hesitated for a moment while the other two idiots got up. Hazeem’s face was red with anger.
I smiled provocatively and said, “Unless you wish to make more fun of yourself, you should bring more men if you insist on taking me by force.”
He cursed in anger, and attacked me with his soldiers.
To tell the truth, part of me wanted them to do just that.
I moved to the right side landing the whip on Hazeem’s head violently, forcing him to scream in pain and drop to his knees grabbing his head. Then I turned around landing another hit on the closest soldier’s temple. I dodged evading a whip hit, and rose up delivering a thunderous uppercut to the chin of the soldier directing it with my left fist, and then I landed the whip on the fourth soldier’s head with my right hand violently. Within a blink of an eye, the four men were on the ground groaning in pain. I looked around, and to my surprise, many people were watching in awe what had happened. Amidst them, I saw the little boy from the city gates smiling in excitement.
I looked down at Hazeem. He was holding his marked forehead in pain.
“Tell your chief that our deal is still on if he wishes it to remain so. All I want is to live in peace and take care of my family’s farm. Otherwise, let him rest assured that the consequences of breaking that deal won’t be in his best interest.” I said that, threw down the whip, and walked away.
It was evident that those idiots were used to one-sided fights. They never anticipated that I would fight back.
They were closer to thugs and bullies than real soldiers.
I walked away fast knowing that my message would reach Sasan loud and clear. I knew that it was going to land like a thunderous slap on his face. I wanted him to know that Mohab Al-Misrosty left behind a son who can carry forth his legacy. What was going to happen next was surely worrying. Nonetheless, I cannot deny the fact that when I was fighting back there, I experienced a feeling I had longed for. I experience how it was to feel alive again. Those soldiers truly picked the wrong timing and the wrong person to harass.
I was indulging in my thoughts when I felt that someone was following me. I walked away from the crowded streets until I reached the small bridge crossing the water stream used in irrigating the farms of Fastotia. I passed it and hid behind a big tree at the side of the road. I waited for a while, but no one appeared. I looked carefully from behind the tree, but no one was approaching. I gave it a thought for a moment then went on my way. If someone was following me, my destination was not a secret, so why not let him reveal himself. On approaching Orabio in the field, I saw him tying a knot around a heap of stalks and pulling it over his thigh to load it on the cart. I took off my garment and turban as I approached him, placed them on the cart’s seat, and gave him a hand lifting the heap on to the cart.
“Where the hell have you been?” Orabio asked angrily.
“I went to see your father,” I answered briefly moving on to the next heap.
Orabio stood still without budging an inch. I knew he was looking at me, and probably swearing in his mind, but I neglected that. After a moment, he walked over towards me, and we continued tying and loading the stalks on to the cart. Orabio told me to prepare more heaps while he empties the cart in the barn and returns. I nodded and continued to work as he drove away. While I was tying the linen rope around the fourth heap, I raised my head wiping the sweat drops off my face, and there he was again, that crazy boy
was standing near the edge of the field watching me with a naughty smile on his face. I knew that if I tried to move towards him, he would run and hide, so I just waved my hand calmly saluting him. His facial expression seemed different. His smile transformed into a serious look closer to that of adults, and he saluted me back, then turned around, and walked away. What a weird kid, I thought as I watched him disappear amidst the bushes.
I continued working until I heard Orabio approaching.
He was yelling at the horse, “Come on Qotaz, faster.” I watched him until he stopped the cart, and got off.
“Qotaz… really! That’s the name of your horse.”
He looked at me and said, “Yes, what’s your problem.”
“Nothing. I just thought it was a bit weird to name your horse after me,” I responded shrugging.
“Who told you it’s named after you? Maybe I named it after my son, why the hell do you think that everything is about you?” he said in a bitchy tone.
“Well, you named your son after me,” I responded sarcastically to his provocative comment.
He walked over to where I was standing, grabbed me by my collar, and pulled me violently. He said in a low, angry voice, “Listen you stubborn jackass, you have done enough already. You have attracted Sasan’s attention at a very critical moment. Only Alaha knows what’s going to happen now. So you better shut up, and do what you’re told, exactly when and where you’re told to do it. Do you understand?”
We stood still for a moment then I said, “Let me go.”
Orabio pushed me away violently and walked over to the nearest heap prepared for loading. He was about to lift it when I asked, “How did you know what happened?”
He let the heap fall on the ground, and said in rage waving his hands, “All Fastotia knows, even kids are repeating the scene in the streets. The officer you humiliated is one of Sasan’s close men. This won’t just pass-by without retributions.”
“Is this supposed to scare me?”
“Yes, it should. But since that you’re a total idiot, I doubt that it will,” Orabio responded in a serious tone. He then resumed working and said, “Less than a week in the city and troubles have already started tumbling down upon our heads.”
Feeling a bit offended by his comment, I said, “Well, what did you want me to do? Did you think that Sasan’s officer and his soldiers were waiting in my way by coincidence? Absolutely not, they were watching me, and they were there for a purpose, and it surely wasn’t to have a nice chat.”
Orabio looked at me silently for a moment, and then said,
“What’s done is done. There is nothing we can do now but wait and see.”
We worked the whole day until we unloaded the last cart in the barn. We were tidying up our clothes when I told Orabio that I was going to return with him and take the key of my house and my personal items. Of course, I had to move to the old house in order to cover for Salamio’s presence and take care of his wound. Moreover, I needed to think extensively about what I’ve come to know, and what I was going to do. When we reached my uncle’s house, we saw Fatamia and Ramla waiting outside with the boys.
Their facial expressions said it all, something was wrong.
“What happened?” Orabio asked worriedly.
“Father hasn’t returned yet,” Fatamia said nervously.
Orabio gave me a look which meant, haven’t I told you, this is entirely your fault.
“I shall go look for him,” I said turning around, but Orabio stopped me saying, “No, you will wait here. You have already caused enough trouble. Sasan’s men will all be lurking to avenge themselves, and humiliate you publicly as you did to them.”
I ignored what he said, stepped into the house, and walked over to the guests’ room. Fatamia had washed my clothes, and she placed them neatly folded on the bed. I tied them into my garment, grabbed my sword, and fastened it to my belt. I picked up the key to my house and pushed it into my pocket then went back out.
Orabio hurried towards me saying, “Where do you think you’re going?”
He was trying to stop me, so I said calmly, “I’m going home.”
He looked at me in denial and said, “No you’re not.”
“Calm down Orabio. You know it is me Sasan wants, not my uncle. When his men come to arrest me, they better not find me here.”
“So you will just go home as if nothing is happening!”
he responded doubtfully.
“No, I’m going to check on my uncle in the shipyard first, and make sure that he’s all right. After that I shall go home,” I replied as I walked away.
“The shipyard closes before sunset. You won’t find him there,” he yelled in a stressed tone.
I turned around, looked at his worried face, and said,
“In this case, we better go look for him, even if we had to search the City hall itself.”
“O Lord…” Fatamia screamed putting her hand on her chest and looking towards the grassy footpath leading to the house.
We all turned and saw two men supporting Uncle Noor from both sides. He was barely able to walk. We ran towards them and helped the two men carry him into the house and put him in his bed. Orabio asked Ramla to bring some water hurriedly, while Fatamia started wiping Uncle Noor’s face with her apron. Ramla brought the water and Orabio helped his father drink. He poured some water on his hand and wiped the old man’s face and forehead.
The two young boys sat at their grandfather’s feet terrified from the scene.
“Don’t worry children. I’m all right. I’m just a bit stressed from work,” Uncle Noor said trying to calm us down.
He turned to the men who helped him home, and said to the older one, “Obadiah, I want you to meet Qotazio, my nephew.”
I looked at the man who seemed to be in his early fifties.
He looked strong and solemn. I nodded at him in respect.
He did the same then turned towards my uncle and said,
“You rest now, skipper. I shall carry on the remaining works. Rest assured that everything is going to follow exactly your plan.”
He looked at his companion who seemed ten years younger and said, “Let’s go, Zein. The skipper needs to rest.”
Orabio invited them to stay for dinner, but they apologised politely and left.
I stood there unable to utter a word, looking at my uncle like a kid afraid to lose his father. He looked around smiling faintly and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
He then looked at me with his ever-kind smile and signalled me with his hand to come closer. I immediately approached his bed and bent down towards him.
“You have always been a wild kid. I have always seen it in your eyes. I know that trying to hold you back will only cripple you, and this is not my intention. All I’m asking from you is to be a bit patient, and I promise you, a time will soon come when I shall ask you to set yourself free and show everyone what you’re capable of.”
I knew that a dark look covered my face in worry, but I tried to fake a smile and said, “Yes uncle.” I kissed the old man’s hand, wiped his head, and got up saying, “You rest now and don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”
I walked out of the room and sat on a chair close to the entrance. Ramla prepared a tray holding some food and a jug of water, while Orabio and Fatamia helped their father change his clothes. After that, the two young women helped the old man eat his dinner, while Orabio escorted his children to their beds. I sat there trying to figure out what happened to Uncle Nooraddeen. What could have suddenly weakened him like this? With all the information I learned the night before, I still felt lost. Everything was extremely vague and unclear.
“Hey lad, you better go home now,” Orabio said dragging me out of my thoughts.
I barely raised my head, and forced myself to speak,
“Shouldn’t I stay over the night. Maybe you will need me.”
“Your house isn’t far. Go home and attend to your duties,” Orabio said driving my attention to Salamio.
For a moment, I sat there unable to get up, but then I forced my feet to bear my burdens along with my body and walked towards my uncle’s door. I checked on the old man and saw that he had fallen asleep. Without uttering one more word, I exited the house, and walked over to where I dropped my clothes. As I grabbed them and was about to leave, Fatamia called my name. I turned around, and she was approaching holding a wrapped tray. She stretched her arms with it saying tenderly, “You haven’t eaten anything.
Take this with you.”
I stared at her face for a moment. It was enough to look in her eyes, and all the sorrows of the world would just fade away. I grabbed the knot of the sheet wrapping the tray and said, “Thank you, Fatamia.” I caressed her face gently and walked away.
That was the first time for me to touch a girl’s face this way. Amidst all-encompassing dangers, love prevails.
What a weird, but wonderful feeling.
14
It was already dark when I arrived home. Salamio was sitting calmly behind my father’s desk. I used the fire kit to light the candles, and then I closed the curtains. When I turned, Salamio was folding small papers carefully.
“What were you writing?” I asked curiously.
“Letters to the resistance in and outside Misrost,” he answered without looking up.
His answer increased my curiosity. I had a lot storming my mind already; hence, I didn’t try to ask him about the content of his letters.
“Come here, let me check on your wound and change the bandages,” I said pointing towards the couch.
Salamio got up in pain, walked over to the couch, and almost crashed on it. I brought the Alcohol bottle, and some clean cloth, and then I started unwrapping his wound. I let the wound breathe for a moment, wiped it gently with a wet piece of fabric, and then poured some Alcohol on it.
Of course, Salamio shrieked in pain, but I calmed him down and then wrapped his wound again with some clean cloth.
“What were you thinking?” he asked in anger.
I got up holding the Alcohol bottle and the used bandages, walked over to the desk, and hid them like the day before.
“What was I thinking about what?” I responded with indifference.
“You provoked Hazeem on purpose, why did you do that?” he said in spite.
I placed the food Fatamia gave me on the small table in front of him and said, “You tell me how did you know, and I will tell you what I was thinking.”
He frowned in denial and said, “How did I know? What kind of a stupid question is that? Of course, I know. It’s my job to know.”
“This doesn’t answer my question. Who informed you of what happened, Salamio? Who saw everything to the extent that he noticed I was trying to provoke Hazeem?”
I asked angrily.
Salamio looked at me silently for a moment then said,
“We’re keeping an eye on you. It’s for your safety.”
I couldn’t help bursting in rage, “This is horseshit, and you know it. What you told me last night was only part of the truth. It’s obvious from the gaps that you are still hiding a lot, Salamio.”
“Don’t be an idiot. There are things that I’m not entitled to disclose to you no matter what. You should be able to understand that,” he responded in similar rage.
We stared at each other angrily for a moment, and then I said, “It doesn’t matter now. Let’s eat before the food cools down.”
For a while, none of us uttered a word until Salamio said,
“Remember last night when I told you that we were all assigned to carry out certain missions based on our capabilities and strengths?”
“Yes,” I said calmly.
“You never asked me what your points of strength were, and who wrote your report.”
“Obviously, my points of strength were related to being a sailor… a person ready to face the different hazards at sea, and deal with them. As for who wrote my report, it doesn’t matter that much. It could have been anyone: my father or any of my mentors. What difference does it make?” I said ridiculing his question, which I thought was irrelevant.
Salamio looked at me with vehemence and said, “Fine.
In this case, you better wait until you meet the person who wrote your report, and recommended that you should be sent to sea ever since you turned fifteen.”
“And who might this be?” I asked.
“Soon you will meet him yourself, and he will inform you of all you want to know. Until then, stop acting like a
child and have some patience. Getting into trouble with Sasan’s men won’t help you avenge your father, or carry forward his legacy,” Salamio responded angrily.
Being the only one kept in the dark felt outrageous. Even my own family and friends thought I was unworthy of their trust. I felt frustrated, and despair started to take control over my spirit. During the night, many thoughts crept into my head. I shouldn’t have returned, was a thought that overflowed my mind. Whenever I fell asleep, the same old dream revisited me again.
Struggling against endless raging waters, stroke after stroke my arms relentlessly fought. My eyes searched for the shore. Disabled by the ruling night, I strove and strove but to no avail. Suddenly, a fading silver light started to rise on the horizon. Before it filled my eyes, before certitude filled my heart, I woke up.
Unable to find any rest in those continuously interrupted trials to sleep, I got up, walked over to the front window, and sat there trying to find any solace in the moon’s light.
Looking outside, I saw some figures moving amidst the trees. At first, I thought I was mistaken, but then these shadows became clearer. They were approaching the house quietly, trying to sneak into the premises without getting noticed. I ran to the office room, woke Salamio up, and signalled him to hide. I grabbed my sword, pulled it out of its scabbard, and walked back to the window trying to see what was going on, but I couldn’t spot anyone anywhere.
I opened the front door and ran outside looking all around, but no one was there. I stood still for a moment listening, and I heard the faint sound of fast footsteps approaching me from behind. By the time I turned, it was too late. A heavy object hit my head, and I blacked out.
15
How long I stayed unconscious, I cannot tell. When I started regaining my senses, I was unable to move my arms or legs. I tried to open my eyes, but I realised that I was blindfolded. I pulled my arms with all my strength trying to free myself, but I was tightly tied up.
“Where is your friend Salamio?” a harsh voice said.
“I don’t know,” I responded without hesitation.
A hard punch landed on my left jaw rattling my brain, and another landed on my right with a similar effect.
“Where is Salamio?” the voice repeated.
I spat some blood and said persistently, “I don’t know.”
Two more punches landed on my face, and the voice said, “Your friend was wounded when he escaped, and guess what? We found used bandages soaked with blood inside your house, so you’d better speak up. Where is Salamio?”
“I don’t know,” I said in defiance.
Silence took over for a while, and then the voice said,
“I’m going to enjoy this more than I thought.”
The next thing I remember was a swift lash landing on my back cutting through my skin. I shrieked in pain only to receive another lash, and then another.
“You can save yourself the pain. Just tell me where Salamio is.”
“I don’t know,” was my unshakable answer.
More lashes landed on my back, chest, and belly. The more I insisted that I didn’t know where Salamio was, the more punishment I received. After a while, my whole body went numb. Gradually, I lost consciousness again.
When I opened my eyes and raised my head, a faint figure of a man was standing a few steps away. My eyes were sore, and I could barely see. I was unable to keep my head up, so I let it fall back down. The man approached me,
raised my head with his hands and said, “Hold on, son.
Help is on the way.”
I tried to recognise his face, but I was unable to do so, his voice felt extraordinarily relaxing and pleasant to hear.
I really cannot tell whether this was a dream or for real.
All I can say is that it felt real enough. Whether I blacked out again after that or I was already unconscious, is something that only Alaha knows. Cold water hit my face violently waking me up. I tried to open my eyes, but I was still blindfolded. The harsh voice said again, “This won’t end except if you speak. Where is Salamio?”
I tried to respond but was unable to do so. Another lash landed on my back, but even this seemed to have no real effect on my worn-out body.
“Enough,” a voice aggressively said.
After this, I heard a lock open and a door squeal. Two or three men walked out of the place in which I was tortured.
They slammed the door violently behind them, and locked it again. The ropes that held my body stretched were let loose. I collapsed on the floor unable to move. How much time passed while I remained lying there is hard to tell.
Everything felt like a dream. I imagined my parents looking at me. My father’s face was stiff with anger. Mother’s eyes were teary, but she was smiling tenderly as she always did.
Loud voices and the sound of swords clattering brought me back to reality. After a few moments, the door to my cell was unlocked. I pulled the blindfolds and opened my eyes trying to see what was going on. Two masked men entered and carried me away, while others secured my extraction from the place. My body ached as they held it. I wanted to walk on my own, but I knew that I was too weak to do so.
I just surrendered to their grips and endured my pains.
We ran through many passageways until we reached steps that led us down to a vestibule. It was half flooded with water, and ended with an iron door behind which the river was flowing. My rescuers waded into the waters. Some of
them used a strong wooden lever to lift the door and hold it in place while we got out. They followed and pulled the lever letting the door fall back in place. They carried me as they walked on the narrow edge of the building until we reached two awaiting canoes. They put me in one of them and jumped in, and then started rowing away with the stream. Some arrows were shot at us as the canoes drifted away. My rescuers blocked them with their shields, and some of them shot their own arrows back at the source.
When we were far enough from the place, a man removed his mask and looked at me saying, “You will be all right.”
I nodded faintly and closed my eyes.
THE LEGACY 91
PART III
THE PIERCING RAY
16
Excruciating pain woke me up. The moment I opened my eyes, I was able to tell from the ceiling of the place that I was inside a cave. I was lying on a hard bed. My body was covered with a thin sheet soaked with some kind of liquid.
From its smell, I recognised iodine. I tried to raise my head and look around, but I was unable to do so. I continued to rest waiting for the dizziness encompassing my mind to decrease gradually. After a while, I heard voices getting closer. I raised my head and looked towards the direction from which the sounds were coming. My eyes were extremely sore, and my vision was hazy, but I recognised two men approaching. They seemed of about my age.
“You’re awake. Welcome back,” one of them said in a friendly manner.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“You’re inside one of our hideouts,” he responded with a gentle smile.
“Who are you, and why did you save me?”
“We are part of the Misrostian resistance. As to why we saved you, we did so following our orders.”
“Who issued those orders? And how did he know my whereabouts?” I asked doubtfully.
The man nodded in understanding and said, “The Misrostian resistance leader issued the orders, and your whereabouts was not a mystery. All those kidnapped for interrogation are taken to the dungeons of the great castle at Northern Fastotia.”
I looked at his friend who hadn’t uttered a word. His face was expressionless, and he made me feel uncomfortable.
“What is going to happen now?” I asked.
“Nothing, we shall wait until you heal,” he said turning around and walking away.
“Where are you going?”
He looked back and said, “I’ll go fetch our breakfast.
You must be starving,” then he left, leaving me with his silent friend.
I took a moment to think of what he said. According to what Salamio told me, the resistance leader was in Shamalia. Hence, how could he have gotten to know so fast what was happening in Misrost. My rescuer said that the Misrostian resistance leader was the one who issued the order. This meant that there must be a leader in every country inside the region. Why didn’t Salamio mention this to me?
“How long have I been unconscious?” I asked the silent fellow who sat at a table a few feet away from my bed.
He looked at me sullenly and said, “A whole day.”
“What about my family, are they safe?” I asked worriedly.
“They are fine,” he said in the same cold tone.
“Where are they?”
This time, he looked at me in despise and said, “My friend is the chatty one, wait till he returns.” Then he got up and left.
I was starting to regain some of my strength, and the dizziness in my head was gradually fading. I tried to get up again and succeeded in sitting first, which was the hardest part. There wasn’t an inch in my upper body that wasn’t aching in pain. I looked at the bed I was lying on; it was a wooden table covered with a sheet soaked with iodine, too.
That explained the pain I felt all over. I was grateful that I was unconscious when my rescuers first placed the iodine on my slashed skin. I tried to stand; mercifully, my legs were not hurt, so I was able to get up. I still had my trousers on. I just wrapped my torso with one of the sheets and walked towards the table placed amidst the cave. Above it, there were drawings of a castle showing secret tunnels and routes, alongside some maps. While I was checking them out, I found a tiny note written in Salamio’s handwriting.
Salamio must have written this note along with his letters to the resistance the night before, I thought to myself.
I grabbed the note, and read what it said repeatedly: The piercing ray is compromised.
This sounds familiar, what is the piercing ray?
I wondered. I placed the note back amidst the maps and looked towards the passage leading into the cave.
The daylight coming from the narrow entrance was dim.
I walked through the dark barely able to see until I reached the cave’s entrance. When I looked outside, I noticed the brilliance in selecting such a place as a hideout.
The mountain in which the cave was located stood amidst a chain of mountains. Spotting its entrance was almost impossible, except if you were standing at a much higher level on one of the nearby ridges, and looking from an extremely acute angle. In other words, you must already know that there is a cave at that position. Noticing it by coincidence was almost impossible. The silent fellow was sitting on a rock beside the entrance smoking his pipe.
When he heard my footsteps, he said without looking at me,
“What are you doing out of bed? You should rest in order to regain your strength as soon as possible.”
“Worried about me, aren’t you,” I said with a sarcastic tone.
He looked at me in anger, and then got up saying,
“Hey, we risked our necks, lost a friend, and compromised our hideout to save you, so you better listen to what I say, and return to your bed.”
When I heard what he said, sadness seized control of my spirit. A person of my age died to save my worthless life.
Why would men who do not know me risk their own lives to save me from Sasan’s dungeons?
“One of you died to save me!” I said in shock.
“Yes, he was my best friend, and the bravest man I ever knew,” he said in despise, and then turned his back on me.
I turned around and walked back into the cave without uttering one more word. Many thoughts were befogging my brain. I lied down on the wooden bed and closed my eyes.
I couldn’t help but think about that person who sacrificed his life to save a failure like me. Questions rattled my weary mind. They aggravated until I lost consciousness again.
17
“Wake up. Hey lad, come on wake up… How long has he been unconscious?”
“I guess a short while after you left.”
“O Lord, he must eat or we might lose him.”
I heard this conversation while I was regaining my conscious. I opened my eyes hardly for seconds.
A headache was tearing my brain apart, and I was unable to speak.
“He’s awake, help him up.”
I felt someone pulling me up into the sitting position and supporting my back. Another removed a poultice off my head, and placed a colder one. I felt something touching my lips. I opened my eyes partially trying to see what was that.
“Just take a sip, come on lad, you must eat.”
I tried to obey the voice but I was too tired, so he just pulled my lower lip, and poured some warm liquid into my mouth. I choked as I swallowed it, but he kept on pouring sip after sip into my mouth saying, “You’re going to be all right.”
After a while, I wasn’t able to swallow anymore, so the voice said, “Let him have some rest,” and they laid my body back on the bed. For a while, I sank in syncope with little to remember. When I regained consciousness, the same two young men were standing beside the table. They were
discussing their situation with my presence amongst them.
I hemmed to let them know that I can hear them.
“He’s awake,” one of them said. His comrade walked over to the corner of the cave and returned with a plate holding some roasted meat.
“You must eat. You hadn’t eaten anything in a couple of days now, and you lost a lot of blood,” he said.
I nodded silently and took the plate from his hands.
I didn’t have any appetite to consume anything whatsoever, but I ate though.
During the next few days, I stayed inside the cave most of the time. I walked forth and back through the passage whenever I was unable to sleep anymore. Every day, two different men stayed with me, and their comrades took their place in the outside watch. I obeyed whatever I was ordered to do without any arguments. I lost total interest in arguing with anyone or thinking of anything. I even lost all interest in speaking. Most time I was sitting alone. I didn’t bother contribute to any conversation occurring between my rescuers. I felt their looks, I felt their whispers, and I felt their wonder, but I never tried to utter a word. Depression was eating me inside out. My flesh wounds were healing, but my spiritual ones were getting worse. I was losing weight, and most times, I didn’t wish to wake up.
In the eleventh day, a while before sunset, I was lying on my bed staring at the cave’s ceiling when suddenly a young man—under twenty years of age—stormed into the place and said, “We are under attack.”
One of his comrades said, “What! How did they find our place?”
“One of their scouts must have followed Hassan when he went out hunting today. Sasan must have dispatched all his scouts looking for him,” he responded referring to me.
“How close are they, Marwan?” a third man who was their eldest and leader asked.
“They are in the valley. We won’t be able to outrun them,” responded the young man.
“How many soldiers are out there?”
“About a hundred soldiers.”
Their leader gave it a quick thought then said, “Take him away from here. The rest of the men and I shall hold them back. Take cover in the dark, and escort him to one of the local hideouts. Sasan won’t doubt that he is hiding inside the city. You must protect him until he meets the resistance leader. This is your responsibility now. Go.”
A hundred against less than twenty men, that’s a suicide mission. Why would those men give their own lives to protect me? I wondered without uttering a word.
The young man, Marwan, and his comrade whose name was Amr, looked at me and said, “Let’s go.”
We exited the place and started climbing the mountain.
We were running up a narrow sandy route when we heard a loud, harsh voice saying, “Surrender, or die.”
We stopped and looked down at the valley. A century of soldiers was standing in five ranks, twenty men each.
The front line was equipped with heavy broad shields and spears. The rest of the force were all swordsmen. It was a force prepared to carry out a deadly attack.
Our men were standing in one line, side-by-side, armed with swords and light wooden shields. They kept their swords inside their scabbards, and held their bows preparing to shoot some arrows first. They stood a few feet away from the foot of the mountain, taking shelter behind a two feet rock defence fence. It was prepared to look like part of the valley’s natural tracts.
The leader of our men responded saying, “You give up, and we shall spare your lives, you filthy traitors.”
The soldiers’ commander signalled his men to move forward. Our men responded by releasing their arrows at them, but they landed on the broad shields of the front line behind whom the rest of the men clustered in a quick
military formation. Our men tried shooting their arrows again, but with the same result.
“Prepare for battle,” screamed our men’s leader. They all pulled their swords out of their scabbards, and held their grounds waiting for their doom.
I looked at Marwan and said, “Young man, give me your sword.”
He looked at me in denial and said, “Of course not.”
Amr said, “We have no time, we must go.”
I grabbed Marwan by his garment and said, “Listen to me carefully, if you don’t give me your sword right now and do exactly what I say, your friends are going to be slaughtered till the last one of them.”
My tone and the way I spoke held a lot of the anger I had been suppressing inside my chest for a long time. The lad stared at me in silence for a moment, and then tilted the scabbard of his sword saying, “You’re just one man, what can you do?”
I asked him and Amr, “Have you ever been in battle before?”
They nodded saying, “Yes.”
I pulled the sword out of its scabbard and said, “Good, then follow me when the attack starts, and attack the back line. Wound, but don’t kill.”
They looked at me in denial, and Marwan said,
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?”
I responded, “Trust me, wound but do not kill. You shall see the results of this really soon.”
“How am I supposed to fight without a sword?” he asked.
“Pick one from any of the soldiers I strike down,” I answered him.
“Well, let’s hope that you live to strike down any soldier at all,” he responded in a childish argumentative manner.
When the soldiers were close enough to our men, the lines carrying the heavy shields broke out in two opposite
directions, and the swordsmen advanced, then they started their attack. I started moving quietly with my two comrades towards the left wing of Sasan’s soldiers. We were running down the sandy route, and our speed was increasing as we approached the battle. The soldiers did not anticipate our attack from their left side. This granted us the element of surprise. When I was just a few feet away, I let out a battle cry that startled them, and then I started to fight.
The first soldier I encountered tried to strike me with a side blow aimed at my neck. I blocked it with my sword, rammed my foot into his lower abdomen, and slashed at his arm giving him a nasty cut. This forced him to let go of his sword. I grabbed the sword in a quick move, turned around blocking another blow with the sword in my left hand, and I landed a sharp strike with the one in my right on the soldier’s left arm forcing him to howl in pain. Then I followed it with a blow at his right arm, forcing him to drop his sword. I leapt evading a deadly blow from a third soldier, stabbed another in his leg fiercely forcing him to drop down holding his wound, and then I rolled back to the soldier who aimed his blow at my head and stabbed him in his thigh. He landed on the ground unable to stand, staring at me in shock. I followed with a strike to the hand with which he held his sword; then I continued breaking through the lines without looking back. I knew my two comrades would do their duty to the best of their capacities. All I concentrated on was blocking and striking, and I was keen not to kill any soldier. All my strikes were to wound the arms or legs. My sole aim was to force them stop fighting, not to kill anyone. They were all my countrymen. I blocked with one sword and struck with the other in quick tactical moves. I have trained ever since my childhood on using both hands in sword fighting. For those soldiers, my tactics were highly skilful and extremely efficient. I continuously moved sideways and changed my direction randomly to confuse my opponents. I heard them curse every time
I turned around myself, leapt, dodged, or jumped away evading an evident strike. Their curses only increased my confidence and speed. The two swords in my hands weren’t my only weapons. I hit with my elbows, kicked with my legs, and head-butted my opponents when necessary.
This was how I was trained to fight, and how I fought hundreds of times against pirates when I was a sailor on Karma. After I succeeded in penetrating the soldiers’ lines and reached the other side, I looked back at my two comrades. They were fifty feet behind, standing back-to-back, and encompassed by ten or so men. I looked into the eyes of the soldiers facing me, and it was evident that they were disheartened and overawed by my speed. I resumed my attack, rushing towards my two comrades. Within a moment, I was able to break the circle surrounding them, and they took care of the rest, while I directed my attention to the remaining lines tearing their formation apart.
I secured an opening for our men to advance and seize control of the situation.
When I was fighting against those soldiers, my greatest fear was not that I would die, it was that I would kill a Misrostian soldier and live with that guilt. The idea that those were my fellow Misrostians, not an enemy, controlled my mind and my body. I didn’t see them as the enemy, but as brainwashed idiots who had no idea what they were doing. When the fight was finally over, I looked around and saw tens of wounded soldiers lying all around. I checked on Marwan and Amr, they were alive. Both of them were bleeding at different parts of their bodies, but there was nothing fatal, mostly scratches and flesh wounds. I helped them walk over to the rest of our men. When we reached their location, they were looking at me in a strange way, a different way from the past days. I heard bits and pieces of their comments as I passed by them.
“I never saw anyone fight like this… It’s as if the swords were part of his body… His manoeuvers and wit… He’s not wearing an armour… He was extremely fast…”
Their leader, a former captain in the Misrostian army, named Salem, approached us. He looked at Amr and Marwan in anger and said, “You disobeyed my orders and compromised our mission.”
Amr looked at me and said, “Sir, he refused to follow us.
There was nothing we could have done but support him with all our strengths on the battlefield.”
Captain Salem approached me and said in anger, “What on earth could have made you disobey the orders and join the fight?”
“Sir, it didn’t feel like the right thing to do,” I responded in a calm, polite tone.
“Orders are orders. You must obey them even if you cannot understand their objectives. You were a sailor, you should know better.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’m no longer a sailor, and I’m not a soldier in your squad either. I never received any orders from anyone, and I sure do not know anything about your mission. I just followed my heart and did what I felt was the right thing to do.”
He stared at me for a moment then said, “Who taught you to fight like this?”
“My father, and the streets of Fastotia,” I responded.
He looked at his men who were still staring at me, then placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Well done.
Well done indeed. The ease and speed with which you moved were astonishing. No one here will ever forget your actions today. You are your father’s son. Truthful was the one who called you the piercing ray.”
“What? What did you just say, sir?” I asked in surprise.
“That’s your nickname amongst us, don’t you know it?”
“I never knew I had a nickname, why would I need one!
And I surely never knew that any of the resistance men heard of me before.”
He looked at me doubtfully and said, “I’m sorry, lad, but I don’t have answers to all questions.” He walked towards his men shouting, “Attend to the wounded immediately.”
A man asked, “What shall we do with Sasan’s soldiers, sir?”
“What kind of a question is that? Attend to all the wounded,” he responded in a louder voice.
As he walked away, I noticed that one of the men was staring at me in silence. He was the same person who lost his friend saving me from Sasan’s dungeons. When I saw him, he nodded at me respectfully without uttering a word.
I cannot express how I felt when he did that. I nodded back at him with similar respect and waited until he turned around and walked away. I stuck my swords into the sand and helped the rest of the men.