Fury is Born (Book 1 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 6

        "There are some who say that Islam is a new faith," Bilal spoke with vehemence. "Words cannot express how they are mistaken in their convictions. Islam has existed from the dawn of time, since the Prophet Adam was sent to this world. Allah is the god of thousands of prophets that have sought to convert their tribes and nations over the course of centuries. Allah is the god of Moses, peace be upon him, and the Israelites. Allah is the god of 'Isa and the Lady Mariam, peace be upon them."

        "And who are 'Isa and the Lady Mariam, peace be upon them?" 'Amr inquired genuinely, his face stern, his eyes steady on Bilal.

        I rolled my eyes and caught Mundhir's eye who was red-faced with suppressed laughter. I leaned in and spoke softly.

        "What's funny?"

        "I..." he could barely contain his laughter. There were tears in his eyes. "I spat in his water."

        "Bilal's?"

        Mundhir nodded, finally bursting into tears and throwing his head back, barking with laughter. I stifled my own laughter with a hand over my mouth.

        Bilal stilled him with a glare bereft of any mirth until Mundhir's outbreak quietened. Bilal turned to 'Amr.

        "The Prophet 'Isa, peace be upon him, is testimony to the might of Allah. The Lady Mariam was blessed with him while an unwed virgin. The prophet emerged from her womb with the ability to speak and spread his message!"

        'Amr, knees pressed against his chest, drew a breath in awe as he looked up reverently to Bilal.

        "Praise be to Allah," he exclaimed.

        "So, she passed wedlock off as a miracle," I snorted. "Clever."

        'Amr shot me a fiery glare; the offense was evident on his face.

        "One should not jest about these things," Bilal chided me. "What you have accused the purest of all women of is vile. This is a heinous crime. Do you know that there is strict punishment for those who question a woman's chastity without proof or witnesses?"

       I scoffed. Hubal and the gods would not concern themselves with these petty squabbles.

        "You must seek forgiveness from Allah," Bilal demanded. "Say the words. Allah is more merciful to his worshippers than a mother to her child. Utter the words I taught you."

        I scoffed again. Bilal's glare was unrelenting.

        "I seek forgiveness from Allah," 'Amr whispered.

        I shook my head.

        "There is nothing to forgive," I bit back stubbornly.

        "Then begone," Bilal commanded.

        Gladly, I thought.

        "You're not even going to reprimand me?" I mocked him.

       "Allah's wrath is enough."

      "He will forgive me. He is more merciful than a mother to her child, after all. I'll take my chances."

        I rose and stalked out of the shed. The air was still and humid.

        I need the presence of the gods, I thought.

        I resolved to seek out Qusayy. I longed for his husky recollection of tales and poems and legends. He was a man of the gods. His tribe, the Khazraj, was experiencing mass conversions, but I knew he would never succumb to this nonsense.