Shadow of Death (Book 2 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 31

I lounged next to the feasting Arslan, watching 'Ali's procession march through the streets of Madinah.

I remembered 'Ali ibn Abu Talib from the days of my youth; he was the Prophet's first cousin, son in law, his closest confidant and a figure with immense popularity who held sway with a large part of the community.

Because 'Ali was a renowned swordsman, he had the build of one during his youth, one of a warrior that favored agility and skill over brute force and strength. However, those days were behind him; the man that walked before me was middle aged and balding with a slight belly protruding from an oval body. He had not taken part in any of the battles of conquest, I'd heard, preferring to stay behind as a man of a state – mainly an advisor in matters of jurisprudence and religion.

Yet, his popularity had not wavered. He was tailed and flanked by throngs of men. I recognized some of them. Salman the Persian, 'Ammar ibn Yassir were two familiar faces and notoriously stalwart friends of 'Ali. Malik al-Ashtar was a man who towered over the others, broad-shouldered and intimidating, with a scar running down his cheek from beneath one eye.

"'Ali's dogs," spat 'Ubayd-Allah ibn 'Umar at my side. He was one of 'Umar's many sons, an acquaintance of mine during my earlier days in the city as his father's servant.

"You hold contempt for the son in law of the Prophet?" I asked him, running my hand through Arslan's mane. Arslan snorted.

"I hold contempt for arrogance and cowardice," 'Ubayd-Allah shared his father's long legs, overwhelming strength and brazen personality but none of his sense.

"You should not say such things in public."

'Ubayd-Allah's glowered at me. "And why not? Because he shares the blood of the Prophet? Descent is worthless to Allah. Will he cower in Muhammad's shadow when he faces Allah, as he cowers now among his partisans while better men are martyred at the hands of infidel and foe? What will he say when Allah asks him of the schism he sparks within Muhammad's ummah?"

"I doubt there will be much asking going around," I replied, smiling slightly. "He is among the ten promised heaven."

'Ubayd-Allah's hands clenched into fists and he ground his teeth. It was so pitifully easy rousing his anger. It was one of my favorite pastimes.

"So is my father!" he barked out. His voice sounded like the clap of thunder, so loud that I thought the troops in Persia heard that. "Yet he does not stir trouble for his lust over power."

"I do not see 'Ali stirring any troubles. His ambitions for the Caliphate are well known yet he is a diligent advisor in majlis al-shura."

The majlis al-shura was a council of advisors established by 'Umar. There were no fixed seats or members to the majlis, nor was it an official state institute. It was merely a gathering of a number of prominent Muslim figures hand-picked by 'Umar, with no fixed duties. Though some of them were assigned to certain permanent posts like Muhammad ibn Maslamah.

"He does not stir trouble?" 'Ubayd-Allah was riled up now. I tried my best not to burst out laughing.

"I take it you do not support 'Ali for the Caliphate."

'Ubayd-Allah's annoyed glower at me was cut short as the shuffling of sandals neared us. We turned our heads to find 'Ali's entourage making for us.

"Think they heard you?" I asked, suppressing another burst of laughter.

"Shut up," 'Ubayd-Allah grunted, straightening his shoulders and puffing his chest as 'Ali walked toward me.

"There has been commotion stirred in this place the morning prior," he announced without pomp, greeting or ceremony. Straight to the point. "By Allah, why do you disturb the peace? Why do you stir trouble?"

I did not reply right away. Instead, my eyes studied the hard-eyed individuals standing vigilant at 'Ali's back. I shifted from one foot to the other, weighing my words. After my fall at the lighthouse, it became increasingly more difficult to form coherent thoughts. Like the wiseman had said, there were words that eluded me.

I thought of the consequences of revealing Zaynab's affair to 'Ali. He would doubtless have her stoned as an adulteress, and 'Abd al-Rahman flogged, for he was not married. A pity, I thought. I would not have been displeased to see the back of him. The bastard put my honor to the question. And that wasn't the end of it. He would not allow me to visit Mother.

But there was certain information I yet needed to pry from him. The clan of his birth. His father, the chieftain who abducted Mother after the Battle of the Trench, when Yathrib was cleansed of my tribe, the Banu Qurayza.

He would be more reluctant to reveal his lineage if I were the cause of his public humiliation.

But the sentence would need four witnesses to carry out, I reminded myself. That should be easy. Mundhir can be bribed for the right price. The Nubian can be manipulated. And I can buy off two others, but I need to make sure of their weak faith.

'Ali raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer. My thoughts were sluggish, and I was struggling to come to a conclusion, besides. On the one hand, if I organized for reprisal against adultery, I would preserve my honor. On the other, if I imagined if I managed to learn of 'Abd al-Rahman's lineage, I would preserve Mother's honor by ridding the world of her former slavemaster.

I lowered my head, studying my sandals as my untidy thoughts whirled.

"Is it perhaps because of our knowledge of your mother's faith?" 'Ali prodded me.

My head darted upward to meet his eyes so rapidly, that my vision swam and the world spun around me. I needed to grab onto Arslan in order to steady myself.

"W-what do you mean, uhh?" I did not know how to address him. I did not know what he was talking about.

'Ali pursed his lips. "It is not honorable to lie, nor is it what Allah ordained."

"Uhhh... 'Ali.... I do not know of what you speak."

'Ali hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. "You have been gone a long time, I have heard. Very well. It is my duty to inform you that you are required to evacuate your mother from the city. You have three days."

"Three...three days?" I blurted, incredulous. "I do not follow."

"We have been informed from a credible source that your mother stands Jew. As you well know, it was among our Prophet's dying wishes that those without Islam must be cleared of Arabia."

My jaw dropped, and my thoughts raced exponentially out of control, even more so than they already were. "J...Jew?"

I was aware of Mother's true religious affiliation. She would not keep quiet about it every waking second before I went off to Egypt, I remembered. But she never set foot out of the house. She was far too frail, too sickly. And she did not approve of the city in Muslim hands, besides.

And the children were away. I had seen to it that they were given to the Banu Asad in order to be bred in the ways and values of the nomad.

Who else would do this to her? She would not survive the journey to anywhere else. She was far too weak. This was a death sentence to her!

Certainly not 'Abd al-Rahman. He was scum, sure, but he would not do this to the only person who held love for him.

That left only one person...

It was then that I set my eyes and the rage clutched my heart. My thoughts steadied into a single thread, a uniform emotion of pure, unadulterated hatred.

Sometimes vengeance could be won with words rather than swords.

"The brawl was not concerning a matter of religion," I strained to keep the venom out of my voice. "It was one of honor. My wife is an adulteress."