Shadow of Death (Book 2 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 17

April 637 AD, Rabi' al-Awwal 16 AH

Jerusalem.

It is a city well immersed in Jewish lore, held close to heart by any man who calls himself Jew. I was no longer such man, yet I could not help but revel in the city's glamor.

It was no Alexandria, but Jerusalem had a sense of foreboding to it, an ancient aura of stability and eternal endurance.

It was a sprawling metropolis, not too dissimilar from Alexandria, Damascus or Antioch in that manner, yet it had its own unique flavor. I was aware of its significance in the three prominent monogamous faiths in the region, particularly that of my tribe, and perhaps that played a part in my awe of it as I rode through its recently opened gates.

It was a city shrouded in myth and mystery my entire life, yet now, it spread before me like an open book. As though I hopped into my uncle's distant tales of David and Solomon.

Jerusalem was to be among the jewels of this thriving empire of Islam, as it was to the Roman Empire. A long-standing siege had dwindled the spirits of the defending Christian religious men and after the thinning of their supplies, the city finally surrendered to the commanding general, Abu 'Ubaidah, some weeks earlier, on the condition that the leader of all Muslims himself was to come lift the siege.

The capture of the city was more or less without bloodshed, and now, the Khalifa himself opted to visit this newly acquired bastion of culture, lore and religion himself.

And I was of the entourage accompanying him.

In Yathrib, I left behind a wife heavy with child again, a red piece of meat they called newborn, a brazen and hot-headed half-brother and an increasingly senile mother.

Umm Ezra's years as a concubine had taken their toll on her; she was a shell of her former self. She spoke but little, prayed often and smiled not once. She recoiled at my touch sometimes, preferring to keep a distance between us. I vowed again to wreak havoc on her captors once their identity was revealed to me. All I needed was some private time with 'Abd al-Rahman, the Bedouin chief's unacknowledged son.

Mundhir, who had partaken in the siege of Jerusalem, rejoiced at the news of the newborn, as well as his sibling that may await us by the time we returned to Yathrib.

"Let's hope he's taken after his mother," he said, grinning widely. "Who wants another Hanthalah?"

"He'd probably be born twice as tall as you," I replied, punching him affectionately on the arm.

I shared a tent with Mundhir outside the city. Whenever I left, I would return to find him in the arms of another woman.

"Take pity on me and take a woman to wife already," I told him one time, averting my gaze.

Mundhir was well endowed with undeniable good looks. It was no surprise he indulged himself so.

He chuckled at my suggestion. "But I have, Hanthalah. Each and every woman I have taken to bed has born the mantle of wife."

"I thought you were allowed no more than four. I've never known you to be a bright one, but surely simple arithmetic isn't beyond you."

Mundhir threw his head back with laughter and pulled his woman closer.

"You've never heard of pleasure marriages?"

"I am not aware of such arrangements."

"A temporary marriage contract you lumbering oaf. This woman will cease to call herself my wife next morning yet touching her now is more halal than drinking water."