Page 27 of A String of Silver Beads (The Moroccan Empire #1)

His smile is full of a strange sadness. “I will never forget how happy you are now,” he says. “I hope you will find happiness in Murakush.”

“Of course I will, Amalu,” I say. “Yusuf is waiting for me!”

He holds out his hand. On it is a silver shape, an elaborately shaped assaru ouanafer, a veil ‘key’ or fastener.

I look closer and see that it is etched with the Tinfinagh’s alphabet letter ezza , the symbol of our people.

My eyes fill with tears. To have this with me is of great comfort as I ride to my new life.

I embrace Amalu again and he holds me for a moment longer than he should.

When he releases me, I see tears in his eyes.

“Come now, Amalu,” I say, teasing him a little. “You are not bidding me farewell. We ride together!”

He nods and gives the order to mount. I look behind me at the deserted camp. The only signs of our time here are the dusty outlines where the tents were pitched and the circles where our fires used to burn.

***

My escort of six men treat me with great deference as we journey towards the garrison camp, and I enjoy the feeling of importance.

I am the wife of the second in command of a great and victorious army.

I think happily that soon I may even be with child again and that the men will be happy for their leader.

It will take us almost a month to reach the garrison camp, for the men have strict instructions that we are not to hurry but to travel with the greatest of care for me.

We are a small group and often a merry one.

We must cross the Atlas Mountains, and this takes up much of our journey. There are a few trade routes, of course, but they are tiny tracks amongst the towering and precarious rocky slopes. One wrong step and lives could be lost. The only way is to travel slowly and carefully. We meet few people.

Once across that great barrier we begin to see the landscape change before us.

We see more plants, even sometimes a crooked little tree.

More rain falls in this part of the world, so the closer we come to the camp, the better the grazing for our camels is and the easier it becomes to find good water sources, cold and fresh, sourced as it is from the very heights of the mountains.

There are more trees, these unbent, fruit trees and olives.

The travelling becomes a little faster, although we do not push ourselves too hard.

We enjoy the bright green of the land before the heat of the full summer burns it yellow.

The almond trees have already blossomed, now they are full of tender green leaves and the first soft fuzzy buds, which will become the good, sweet nuts.

The camels are happy with all the new food that they find.

I enjoy travelling again, seeing new faces and landscapes, reveling in the luxury of buying our food from villages that we pass rather than cooking and doing other women’s tasks.

I will reach Yusuf well rested and ready to work alongside him to achieve our shared vision.

“Wait till you see the camp!” says one of the younger men, too full of excitement to contain himself as we draw closer to our destination. We are but a few days away from Murakush now, and although we have eaten and slept well during our travels, we are looking forward to our arrival.

“You have never seen such an army gathered in one place! Hundreds upon hundreds of men. Camels, horses. More weapons than you can imagine. So many people! Not just the men, but many of their families, slaves, even children. The General Yusuf has great plans. He wants to gather an even greater army. He says we will look back and laugh when we think of how we are now. He says we will have a mighty army of slaves, fighting men from the Dark Kingdom. Already he has secured the trade routes so he can gather taxes from the merchants to allow him to pay for a larger army. We will go north, he says, but for now we must strengthen ourselves. The men are building trenches and walls to fortify the new garrison city. Yusuf wants a great mosque to be built in the very centre, to honour Allah. But for now, we all pray together in the space that he has allocated to the building. Yusuf prays among us, and we praise His greatness in all we have accomplished so far and all there is yet to accomplish.”

I smile to myself at his enthusiasm. “Murakush,” I say, turning the new name over in my mouth. “It is near the old trading city of Aghmat, is it not?”

He nods. “It is. The army took Aghmat and sacked the city. The king was killed in battle and Abu Bakr took the queen of Aghmat to be his wife.” He falls silent without adding further details.

I know all of this, of course, but here is a man who will know more details. “Her name is Zaynab, is it not?”

He nods again but does not elaborate, despite his earlier eagerness to talk. I decide to coax more information from him.

“Is she as beautiful as they say?”

He looks uncomfortable but does not disagree.

I smile mischievously, thinking that perhaps he has some feelings himself for the legendary queen of Aghmat, now wife to his Commander. A great beauty will be much admired by soldiers, men far from their own wives, or not even married yet.

“Is the marriage a happy one? Are the lady Zaynab and the Commander well suited?”

He mumbles something. I catch Amalu frowning at him.

I lean forward on Thiyya to catch his words. “What did you say?”

He repeats what he had said and this time I hear him. “They are divorced.”

I frown. “Divorced? Already? They have been married less than two years. What happened? Were they so ill-suited?”

The young man looks at the others for help, but they are all staring straight ahead as though seeking something on the horizon. He lowers his head and seems to take his courage in both hands.

“The Commander Abu Bakr went into the desert to fight with the rebel tribes. Before he went, he decided the lady Zaynab was unaccustomed to a rough life in the desert and that he should set her free as he might be away a long time. He divorced her.”

“And now she is alone?”

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“The Commander gave her in marriage to his second in command, along with the command of the army and the new city of Murakush. When her waiting period is over, she may marry him.” He takes another deep breath and emphasises his final words with a stubborn nod of his head. “It has been agreed.”

I cannot believe I have heard him correctly.

Thiyya slows as I let her reins loose and then stops, looking around with interest at the closest trees to see what leaves might be good to eat.

The men stop their own beasts and gather around me as I sit slackly on Thiyya’s back.

I feel the heat sap my strength. After some moments of silence, I turn to Amalu. I speak and my voice is hoarse.

“Zaynab is to marry my husband Yusuf?”

His silence confirms it.

I grasp at the only part of what has been said that still gives me hope. “He said that she must finish her period of waiting before she can marry again. When was the divorce?”

Amalu clears his throat. “The first month.”

I count and recount, but there is only one answer. “She can marry him this month?”

Again silence. Although Thiyya is standing still, I feel that I may fall. “When this month?”

At our present speed we will not get there before the ceremony.

“What were you thinking?” I shout at Amalu. The camels startle.

He says nothing. The men wait.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let us travel so slowly?”

Amalu meets my gaze. His eyes are as angry as mine.

“What did it matter whether I told you or not? Yusuf had already decided. Perhaps you should be angry with him for taking a new wife without even consulting you, without even summoning you to his side until now. It was safe enough many months ago for you to join us. He has all but forgotten you in his lust for another woman!”

The men look away as we stare at each other, locked in rage.

“We need to get to Murakush before the wedding,” I say without looking at him. “We will ride hard.”

“Kella –” begins Amalu.

“Ride,” I say.

We ride day and night from then on, stopping only to fill the waterbags.

I eat nothing and the men eat as we ride.

There is no more banter, no more stories of Yusuf, of the army, of the future.

The men are almost asleep on their mounts, Adeola and Ekon’s faces are grey with worry, but my eyes are kept open with pain and fear.

I cannot think properly. I can only ride and pray that I will reach the camp and speak with Yusuf before the marriage takes place.

***

We see the camp in the far-off distance at dawn on the day of Yusuf and Zaynab’s wedding. We ride as fast as we can through the burning heat of that day, but the camels are tired after the last few days and cannot be persuaded to run, ignoring my desperate urgings.

“We will not get there in time,” says Amalu. His voice is pleading. “Kella, rest. You are exhausted. It is too late to stop the wedding. Sleep and we will arrive tomorrow when you are strong.”

I turn my face away so he cannot see my tears falling and urge Thiyya forwards.

***

We reach the camp as the sun sets.