Fury is Born (Book 1 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 9

I sighed, taking in the beauty of the night. I praised Allah for the marvelous sliver of silver in the sky. Allah is the moon god of the Arab religion. The Muslims have plagiarized him, taking him as their own and associating him with all sorts of ancient legends and tales. They were of the ridiculous notion that he is the sole deity in the universe. But I knew the truth of it. I knew that the moon was the embodiment of Allah, the father of the three goddesses, the comely warrior goddess Allat, fertile al-'Uzza and inevitable al-Manat, weaving our fates and fortunes. And they were only a few gods in a plethora of beings that included djinn and demons and phantoms that influenced our daily lives in many ways and forms.

It had been months since the Banu Qaynuqa' were expelled from the city. Their loyalty to this ummah, this nation that the Prophet had carved out for him and his, declared null and void. There were many terms the tribes had agreed to following the Hijra, namely to answer only to the Prophet in affairs of war and trade. And they had not only forsaken this essential condition in the agreement, they had also managed to defile a woman and shed the blood of scores in the process.

Their fortresses were besieged and deprived of any supplies, water source or succor. The families living in the lower district were harried from their homes, set for exile. The chieftains in the forts, unprepared for a prolonged siege and in a hopeless situation, eventually surrendered within weeks, agreeing to abandon the city and their belongings in exchange for their lives.

Shirts of chainmail, leather jerkins, bundles of linen and cloth and wool, valuable jewelry, glinting coins of gold and silver, well-bred mounts and precious cattle. Vast swaths of farmland, the districts they had occupied on the city's hill as well as the stout forts that entailed them. They all belonged to the Muslims now, be they of Quraysh or Aws or Khazraj. There were no tribes. Only Islam.

Yet, the remaining two Jewish tribes remained unbending and unwavering in their own faith. Where the Aws and Khazraj abandoned the faith of their fathers and their fathers' fathers, much to my chagrin, the Nadir and my own Qurayza boasted of very few converts.

One down, I thought, watching the streams of glaring men, weeping women and squalling children evacuating the city.

"They won't be missed," I said as Mundhir leaned on my shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Why is that?" He asked.

"Other than the fact one of them tried to murder us?"

He grinned.

"That was the thrill of it."

"Thrill? You never fail to surprise me."

"A short life and a merry one, Hanthalah," he began walking away. "A short life and a merry one."

One month dragged after the other, the days stretched and waned, spring gave way to autumn, gave way to summer. The skies rumbled and the gods wept for the desertion of the Arabs of Yathrib. And then the clouds parted, and the tears ceased abruptly, ushering in serene rays of light. I whispered a prayer to the goddess Shams as her embodiment, the radiant sun, hung pristine and brilliant in the sky, omniscient and eternal. Just as the goddess was, no matter what anyone else thought.

And as one day gave way to another, with every theological lesson and debate with Bilal, my faith in the gods grew stronger. With every afternoon spent riding and practicing in the field with Zaid, I grew taller and more robust, and bit by bit, the aches and sores that plagued my body after his rigorous daily exercises faded as my body flourished.