Page 26 of A String of Silver Beads (The Moroccan Empire #1)

I frown. “Surely all her wealth was at his disposal already? He sacked Aghmat – all its riches were his to take.”

He shakes his head. “It is said that she had a great personal wealth, hidden where no-one knew of it. She went to Abu Bakr and promised him all her wealth to fulfil his destiny. She blindfolded him, then took him alone to a secret underground cave, where she took away his blindfold and lit a candle in the darkness. She showed him the greatest treasure ever known. Gold and pearls, rubies and silver – all his, her gift to him. ‘All this is yours’, she told him, then she tied the blindfold round his eyes again and led him away from that place.” The man subsides, satisfied with the grandeur of his tale.

I narrow my eyes. “So he never knew where that place was and yet the treasure within it is his?”

The man frowns as he follows my logic, then laughs.

“Just like a woman! Promises, promises, and then you must go with her in darkness that you may be tricked into believing the treasure is yours when it stays always within her gift to give!” He winks at Ekon who smiles and shakes his head.

Then the messenger goes to be given food and beer by the camp slaves, who are keen to hear all the gory details of the battle, and of the legendary beauty of the Commander’s new wife.

It is enough for me to know that Yusuf is safe and that his holy mission is smiled upon from the heavens.

Truly his war is just, for he is being given great success.

I smile a little over Zaynab, who has turned a shameful conquering into a triumph for herself and bound Abu Bakr to her with promises.

She is indeed a clever woman, as rumour has it.

One day, I think, I would like to meet this woman.

No doubt I will for one day, God willing, I will rejoin Yusuf, and we two women will be companions while our husbands fight side by side.

***

The winter snows come, and we huddle in our tiny houses, cramped and impatient, although we know we could not travel in this weather even if word came to join the army.

Spring flowers bloom and the snows retreat.

Almost a year has passed and still I am not summoned.

I grow resentful, as do the men of the camp, who mutter amongst themselves, disconsolate at being left out of the glory.

I think of traveling to Yusuf before I am called for.

I know a larger army is amassing and that the new garrison city is beginning to take shape, albeit with tents rather than fine buildings as yet, for the men’s strength must be used for fighting, not building.

Each time a rare messenger comes to me I grow excited and then am told, once again, that the time is not yet.

“But soon,” each messenger assures me. “Soon.”

The heat of the summer beats down on us and we grow sullen.

Occasionally the men will fight one another, when quarrels break out brought on by too little to do.

I pray that we will be sent for before the late autumn rains come, bringing perilous landslides from the mountains above us and forcing us back indoors after a summer spent in tents. Surely the summons must come soon.

Then news comes that there are rebel tribes in the south.

They must be fully conquered and made to swear allegiance, or they will prove a grave danger when the army moves north.

Abu Bakr himself decides to head up the men sent to fight in the south.

He is leaving command of the whole army to Yusuf.

Overnight, Yusuf becomes Commander in all but name.

The new garrison city is entirely in his hands.

I am proud, but fearful. Abu Bakr could be away for a long time, and other tribes might see Yusuf as only the second-in-command and seize the opportunity to attack. But my fears are laid to rest.

“Your husband’s reputation is fearsome,” a messenger assures me. “No-one sees him as a lowly second-in-command, to be attacked when the Commander is away – he is seen as Abu Bakr’s equal and indeed as his successor.”

***

Winter comes again and this time I do not hope for spring and new messengers, only resign myself.

I wonder whether I should return to my home camp, but I am afraid of looking like an abandoned wife, left behind not because of safety but because her husband no longer cares for her, barely recalls her name.

I walk in the foothills of the mountains sometimes, a thick robe clutched about me, the silence all around me only echoing the emptiness of my life here.

I dream of Yusuf at night sometimes, but as time goes by my dreams grow hazy.

I see his hands, his robes, feel his warm body beside me and look for him when I wake, but his face has grown less and less clear in my mind.

I have not seen my husband for almost two years, after knowing him for only a few months.

I think of Amalu and wonder whether I was nothing but a fool to turn him down.

The life I rejected now seems like a more pleasant one than the life I am living.

If I had married him, I would have children by now, I would live and work alongside my aunt.

Amalu and my father and brothers would trade, but visit often and tell me tales of their journeys.

Here there is nothing, only an empty waiting.

The only pleasure spring brings is that we move back into our tents, which smell sweeter than the tiny stone shelters we must call home.

The babies born after Yusuf left take their first steps and I shake my head when Adeola assures me that surely, he will send for me this summer.

I think sadly that he would not have waited so long if my child had lived.

If I had birthed a son, he would old enough to run into his father’s arms by now.

***

It is barely dawn and the ground beneath me is shaking. I wake confused and stumble from my tent, looking about me in the half-light, before shrinking back.

Bearing down on me at great speed are six camels, their riders’ robes swirling. They stop only a few steps away in a cloud of dust. A tall figure leaps down from the lead camel and strides forwards. I put a hand to the dagger I keep in my robes before suddenly recognising the man.

“Amalu? Amalu!”

He stands in front of me, his eyes bright with pleasure. I can just see the top of a new scar, which must curve across his cheek before coming close to his left eye.

“Kella,” he says and the warmth in his voice makes me so happy that I embrace him. He returns the embrace gently before stepping back from me.

“You are safe,” I say happily. “And – and all is well?” I add, suddenly fearful.

“All is well,” he reassures me.

“Tell me everything,” I beg. “But first – oh you have ridden so hard. Let me prepare refreshments.” I call for Adeola and she, all smiles, begins to make tea. The other men go to meet old comrades, while Amalu squats down by the fire.

“We have ridden for so long,” he says. “The mountain passes slowed us down or we would have reached you sooner. I have been commanded to pack up the base camp.”

I stare at him. “Pack it up?”

He laughs at my face. “Did you want to stay here forever?”

“Then am I – has Yusuf?”

“Yusuf has sent for you,” he says, his voice flat.

I give him tea, bread and roasted goat meat. “Tell me more,” I say.

He sips the tea. “Abu Bakr’s new city is called Murakush.

It is still more of a camp than a city, a garrison camp at that, full of soldiers and weapons, but some of the soldiers’ families are beginning to join them now.

The army will not set out again for a while; we have need of more men.

They will need to be trained, and we must be fortified. The living conditions are rough.”

“I do not care,” I say quickly.

He looks at me for a moment and then speaks softly, so that no-one may hear him. “Are you certain that you wish to be with Yusuf, Kella? If it is freedom you want, I will travel with you wherever you wish to go.”

“He is my husband,” I say.

“You barely know him,” says Amalu. “I have spent more time with him than you have.”

“He is my husband,” I say stubbornly. “My place is with him. Besides, now that the war is over, we will begin to build the vision he has of the future. Together.”

“The war is not yet over,” says Amalu.

“It will be soon,” I say. “When can we leave?”

“I must pack up the camp,” he says.

“Do it quickly!” I say smiling but he lowers his gaze and stares into the fire for a long time.

***

I have never prepared for travel so fast. I throw my possessions together, in my excitement paying little care to proper packing until Adeola and Ekon come to me gently, take everything out of my hands and set to packing themselves, smiling and speaking softly to one another.

Their care and skill mean that everything is packed as it should be in very little time.

Within three days I am ready to leave, adding my six camels to the escorts – three which carry my possessions, two for the slaves and of course Thiyya.

Meanwhile, Amalu marshalls the men. They are eager to leave, to join their comrades and partake in their success.

Everyone hurries about their work, excited and smiling.

The camp is dismantled, the camels and horses are loaded.

There will be an advance party of myself and Amalu with an escort as well as Adeola and Ekon.

Then will come the main group, who will travel a little slower than us, for there is livestock to herd as we travel.

The little stone shelters we built stand empty, no doubt the villagers will use them once they are certain we have gone.

Amalu comes to me as I approach Thiyya, sitting sedately chewing the cud and waiting for me to mount her. I smile at him and then impulsively turn and hug him fiercely. “I am so glad you are safe, Amalu. I am sorry that my marriage hurt you. But I am so happy! Be happy for me.”