"The poem is in my hands, and can run stories through her hands." Mahmoud Darwish
Nothing; could be heard in the enormous tent other than the leaders, who ventilated matters and the breeze that flapped the tent. Every single man that sat in the tent hearkened attentively to Sheikh Mubarak and Sheikh Faisal's bitter and heated conversation. No one dared to interfere, no one except Abu Isa. On the right of the huge tent sat almost forty men of Al Rashideens and on left twenty men of Al Borkan. Candle lanterns that hung on every corner of the tent lightened the tent but the darkness and abomination that was in the hearts of both tribes dimmed its gleam.
Faris looked around at the men, all in their best with weapons he knew would slice a throat elegantly. The main guest tent he sat in was indeed majestic. It was massive something he had not anticipated. Nasser sat on his right, poised, and drank his qahwa. Sheikh Faisal sat with his father along with the other elders of both tribes few good feet away from them. He allowed his vicious eyes to fell on Badr, 'The Sagr knight' Faris always craved to have a battle with the man, that was indeed the prime reason he had accompanied his father yesterday, but fate did not grant his wish.
Next to Badr sat his brother, Khalid. Yes, Khalid the naive boy who had dared to terminate him. Faris caught a resemblance of Salem in Khalid's features and scolded ever so lightly. Then he aimed his gaze at Badr once again and found out Badr surveyed him with a stony, dead look on his face. The barbaric knight returned it with such intensity he knew would pierce anyone's courage. They were after all sworn foes, it did not matter if his sister were to be his bride, their wrath was far severe than that.
Faris kept his eyes on him and watched as Badr's eyes traveled to Nasser, once he took note of the terror that crossed those eagle eyes. Faris knew a man like Badr did not know the fear of men, it was dread greater than that and he was well aware of that cause. Faris knew that Badr believed Nasser was the son, his father had spoken of, and seeing Nasser petrified the brother for his dearest sister. A small smile twitched the corner of his lips. Nasser for sure appeared to be the most horrifying man alive with his physical features. By Allah, if he were not his brother, Faris would think twice before he engaged in a brawl with the man.
Nasser was gigantic, so tall that a man like Faris had to incline their heads to look up in his eyes. His shoulders were inhumanly broad. Their father often recalled that he bears resemblance to their grandfather. Nasser fancied keeping his hair long, with two plaits on either side of his face while the rest of his long, dark hair fell gloriously on his shoulders, just like his brother, Faris. However, it was the heart, the heart that was exceedingly pure and sinless, unlike Nasser's physical features. It was his own heart Faris feared, the heart that veiled feelings inside the volcano which was in deep slumber but he knew, someday it shall erupt and burn him in its wake!
"You have acceded to this?" Faris heard his father question.
Sheikh Faisal glanced at his men then back at Sheikh Mubarak, "We do not have another alternative, the bloodbath is something both the tribes cannot afford," he replied, slowly as though weighing each word. Faris saw the intelligent look in the Sheikh's eyes.
"We want your vow ya Mubarak, after this marriage there would be no more killing from either tribe," Abu Isa, the Muttawa proposed, his voice seized every gaze towards him.
"We are not the tribe that started this repulsive bloodshed, this time, Abu Isa," Sheikh Mubarak hissed.
Abu Isa gave a curt nod, "But you were the ones behind the main massacre, Al Borkan," the old man spat in a low voice, the tremble of his hands did not go amiss from the spectators. He held his cane that lay on his right next to his thigh.
Faris frowned eyes on Sheikh Mubarak, "Insha'Allah," he paused as if in a mental war. "There shall not be any death caused by the hands of my men," he declared and Sheikh Faisal nodded then looked their way. "They are my sons," Mubarak answered as he followed his gaze, and then pointed at Faris. "My elder son, Faris, will be the husband of your daughter," he added with proud noticeable in his voice.
Faris stole a swift glimpse at Badr who seemed contented it was not Nasser then his face went pallid as he registered the words and panic engulfed his posture. Indeed he knew who 'Faris Mubarak Al Borkan' was, the cruelest man known even among Al Rashideens. Faris averted his gaze from Badr and looked at Sheikh Faisal who studied him.
"When do you wish for the ceremony to take place?" Faisal investigated and looked around the Borkan men.
"Today, it will be better for the matter to settle today," Mubarak announced. Faris did not look elsewhere but at Sheikh Faisal, he watched with satisfaction as the man hesitated then give a curt nod.
Every man that sat there, raised their hands and listened as Abu Isa recited verses of the Quran and with the name of Allah and his Prophet, Faris was Raghad's spouse. They greeted each other but with dark scowls on faces and revulsion in hearts. The groom was like a fierce hard stone, he did not wish to be kind-hearted, and he could not display even an ounce of his weakness in front of his enemies. If he did he knew his foes will use it against him which he clearly did not desire.
Faris was restless, everything in this tribe pricked at his skin. The savage knight wanted to retire from the repulsive tribe and evacuate as soon as possible. Even the air he breathed seemed poisonous to him. The lavish feast was served he could not help but admire their hospitality. However, he did not possess the appetite to eat. At last, after Salat Al-Asr his tribe decided to depart, he stood and strode away the moment they spoke their farewell. Every blob of blood in his system goaded him to shed blood, but he could not.
"Ya Faris," called a familiar voice.
Faris turned to face the person the voice belonged to. Badr 'The eagle Knight' trod towards him. Nasser ceased his movements and stood beside his brother, but like the wise man Faris was, he urged Nasser to proceed. However, the large man turned his glare at Badr and Faris knew his brother warned the man. By Allah Nasser was intimidating but Badr showed no indication of agitation.
"Na'am ya Badr. Sagr al fursan," (Yes? Oh Badr, the eagle of knights). Faris let his hands loose on his sides and stared the man in the eyes.
Badr stood in front of him, brown against black. This was the moment individuals in tribes quivered whenever they pondered of it. A moment where two murderous men stood face-to-face. One of those moments where a single slip of a tongue could cause hundreds of lives. The tribesmen that passed halted and observed with trembling hearts and crumbling courage. They gaped as Faris. 'Faris al Fursan' glared at Badr.
"I believe you are by now aware why I demanded your attention, ya Faris," Badr began in a serene voice, so unnaturally peaceful that it howled danger.
Faris nodded, "Yes, I do," his black thobe that fell on his ankles flapped with the wind. He disregarded the hair that escaped his red headdress.
"This marriage unites our tribes," Badr pronounced again.
"It is a blessing from Allah, I believe," Faris responded, tranquil but a storm was brewing behind the curtains of his dark, black eyes.
"And my sister will be your bride," here knight of knights, Faris, narrowed his inscrutable eyes.
"She will, ya Badr. Do speak what you wish for," he commanded gently but Badr knew the threat behind it.
"I want you to comprehend this situation and your responsibilities towards her," Badr vocalized in a severe tone but with a calm voice.
Faris knew where Badr stood, by Allah, he would do far worse to the man who would take his Shouq from him, Badr was merely being courteous. However, no man on earth could stand on his feet after he dared enough to order him.
Faris rested his hand on Badr's shoulder and the man's form stiffened. "We are already aware of the answer to this inquiry,"
"Do not test my forbearance, Faris," Badr growled and took a threatening step forward. Spectators stepped back as chains loosened around the gates of immortality.
"You shall thank your Lord, eagle of knights that I did not annihilate you the moment you uttered those words," Faris tightened his grip on Badr's shoulder. "Next time I shall not be this lenient," he ended the conversation, turned his back to Badr and sauntered away to his horse, 'Tufan' He did not wish to look over his shoulder to see Badr and rode away from the tribe and followed the trail that his tribe left behind.
*~*~*~*~*~
Raghad wiped her tears exasperatedly, her beautiful big eyes were red and anyone could declare she had been weeping, shedding pearls from her eyes. She looked up at the clear blue sky, then at her surroundings. They were at a small creek that cascaded through sandstones almost five feet high and water gushed onward.
They had arrived at her tribe to take her hand and Raghad was well aware she by this time belonged to that fiend of a man. She had not caught a glimpse of him, but Raghad knew he was a ruthless man. That mere thought drove her to abandon her tribe with her sister, Maha, and dearest friend, Noof. They had escorted her to the creek that was situated a good distance away from her tribe but safe enough to visit whenever she desired.
Raghad sat on a big stone, under shadows of palm trees, the small stream ran in front of her, her legs dangled from the stone but did not touch the stream. Her clay water pot stood empty on the ground, she had her scarf draped on the crown of her head. Suddenly an anguished sob escaped her lips and Noof looked up.
"Habibty Raghad, what is done is done. It is fate. If Allah wished for this to occur it shall and you know, mankind does not have the power to undo or evade it," Noof consoled her friend, she rose to her feet with her clay pot in hand, and water dribbled from it.
"Yes, but why me? Ya Allah, Noof it torments me," Raghad sobbed as she enfolded her trembling hands around her torso.
Noof sighed; her heart shattered for Raghad, her sister. "Perhaps this is for the best, Yakfee Raghad Wallahi yakfee," (It is enough Raghad, enough) She repeated with a barely audible voice as tears threatened to pour in her eyes.
Raghad disregarded her previous comment and remained hushed. A mild breeze danced around them and propelled a small strand of her hair to fall on her face. Every time she came here, the chirping greenbuls, the different species of fish that swam and dived now and then fascinated her. However, today she journeyed through a great amount of despair. She was soon to be wedded to her enemy. Raghad had no idea what sort of a being he was; only Allah knew about him. What if he was extremely ferocious?
A shudder crawled down the length of her spine. "What if he loathes me? What if I were treated abominably by them? Ya Noof, I will not have the strength to endure it," Raghad rested her head on her knees once she brought them to her chest.
"He will not do such a thing and I am certain Badr will slaughter him if he attempted such an act," Noof endeavored to pass a weak smile but Raghad miserably looked at her. "Uff! I accompanied you here to abandon our matters bint ash-sheik, all you do is remind us both of them," Noof shook her head at her.
"I apologize," murmured Raghad and stared in the space distracted by her desolation.
Noof stomped her foot, "I am going to hunt a fish with Maha. I do not wish to speak to you for a while," she strolled away from Raghad.
Raghad sat there still as a statue and deep in thoughts for a long, long time. So rapt in thoughts that she did not hear a horse coming towards her. So engrossed in thoughts that she did not see someone glance at her from a distance. So immersed Raghad did not perceive she was in peril.