Chapter 3
The Bride
He looked nowhere but within her dark orbs, engulfing her with an emotion she could not recognise.
Eyes are the windows to the soul. A secret place. Yet he intruded.
Marking his position at her very core.
How could he be a nightmare?
When she was floating in her dreams.
Laila opened her eyes, gasping as the last images of him faded from her mind.
A night which should have been spent in anguish was instead blissful, she almost felt ashamed.
How dare he disrupt my sleep?
The sun had yet to rise, dawn just approaching as the call to prayer was heard across the small tribe.
It was serene at this time, only those in desperation were awake to pray before the usual congregational prayers. Laila could not help herself from joining them, imploring for forgiveness, pleading for a way out.
Fate was inevitable, only prayer had the power to change it.
The door suddenly opened as the first light of day shone in her room. Her father meekly walked in, holding a troubled look on his face.
"Baba." Laila quickly approached, embracing him as he returned her affection. His hold was weak.
She had not noticed how frail her father had become.
"Forgive me sweet child," he whispered, stroking Laila's wavy hair. She felt her throat tighten, overcome with emotion whilst holding in a small cry.
"Why are you apologising?" Scarcely managing to speak, Laila found herself suddenly soaking her father's clothes with tears.
"How could I begin to apologise?" He stepped back, taking hold of her shoulders. His swollen eyes stared back at hers.
"Today should have been a joyous day, but my incompetence has turned it into a tragedy." He wiped her tears, placing his hand on her cheek.
"I don't deserve your forgiveness, nor your mothers."
A woman he did not speak of, dare his eyes fill with torment again. Bounded by the curse of unconditional love.
"You are her, Laila. Through and through." He took her hand. "She was my soul, and her passing was my passing." Her father faltered, "Only, I did not see that she had left a part of her soul here, with me."
Laila froze, whilst the strongest man she knew fell apart.
"I saw it too late," he cried, mind consumed with images of his wife. He knew, she would have detested him for how he raised their only child.
Laila took his hand.
"I forgive you." She spoke purposefully, clear with every word.
"You have loved me, and that is enough." She held his hand tightly, gratitude on her face.
So this was his daughter, no longer a child. A woman with strength only equivalent to her mothers.
Forgiveness; he had no right to it. There was too much he had hidden.
"Laila... there is something I must tell you," he admitted in regret. She cocked her head, confused.
"This marriage is more than what you think." Laila sniffled, shaking her head in knowingness.
"I know it's more than just a marriage baba. It is a means for our protection and I-" her words were cut short as they were interrupted by her handmaiden.
"Amirah, we have to prepare you now." Laila turned towards her father, kissing his hands.
"We will talk later." The sultan smiled, stroking her head as he left.
She was to be dressed for her wedding. With her hands unadorned and her face void of excitement.
A wedding dress had already been prepared, in white fabric and red beading.
Delicate gold jewellery was bought out, the same pieces worn by her mother on her wedding day.
She had tainted them with this inauspicious occasion. Her mother had probably hoped for better.
"You must bathe." A woman took her arm and led her to the bathing pool. Time was spent preparing Laila's body for a man who could claim her as his own.
She was pampered. Washed with sweet smelling soaps and massaged with moisturising oils, glowing as she left.
Her long wet hair was sprayed with rose water and perfumed with bakhoor. The dress was carefully put on her, fitting as though it was made to her size.
As though her mother was with her right now, praying for it to be easy.
-
Laila stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was ready to be wed.
"All praise is to God! You look beautiful Amirah." Wafiyyah complimented, admiring her own handiwork.
Laila smiled appreciatively, feeling the golden headpiece she wore.
"Words could not explain how beautiful you are," Asiyah stood behind her, lovingly caressing her shoulders.
"I shall go see if everything is prepared." Wafiyyah bowed slightly before leaving, allowing them a moment together.
"You can do this." Asiyah whispered words of encouragement, embracing Laila. She quietly slipped a note into her hands.
"There is someone else who would like to see you before you leave." Laila curiously looked at the piece of paper, unfolding it.
'In the last place we met'
The writing was familiar to her eyes, recognising it immediately. Abdul wanted to see her.
"I can only give you a couple of minutes before it becomes suspicious," Asiyah informed. She bought out a black robe, wrapping it around Laila's shoulders before bringing the hood up.
"I will be back soon," Laila promised whilst leaving. Using the advantage of a busy household, she was able to slip past the halls without being noticed.
Of course, Laila knew all the secret alleyways in the house. She steadily followed the same pathways, as discreetly as a cat. Finally reaching the hidden area beside the court, Laila dropped the hood of her cape and searched in the poorly lit room for Abdul.
Two hands grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to jump in shock.
Abdul stared at his love in astonishment. She was as beautiful as the moon, her eyes staring straight into his soul, making his heart beat faster than it ever could.
"Speak to me Abdul, you wished to see me?" She asked, innocence in her eyes, unknown to her what he had planned.
"Laila. I can save you," he revealed.
"What?" Was the only word she could find.
"All you have to do is follow me. When you are asked if you want to marry that tyrant, you have to say no." He held her shoulders tightly, wanting for her to obey.
Laila shrugged off his touch.
"No Abdul. A promise has already been made. Do not make this harder than it has to be." She turned to leave when her dress was suddenly tugged.
"You would not even try?"
His words hit like an arrow to the heart. Of course she would have tried had the circumstances been different, she would have cried and fought till her last breath.
Facing him, she removed Abdul's hand. "In a different place and in a different time, yes."
There was silence between them as he attempted to decipher her words.
Of course she would have declined.
The ever so noble Laila, would do anything to be righteous.
"Then I will take things into my own hands." He daren't give her a chance to stop him, storming away from her as she was left in confusion.
'What did he mean?'
-
Abdul paced back and forth.
Anger, resentment... jealousy.
Laila was his.
She had been his from the moment he set eyes on her. Fate had brought them together, there could be no other explanation.
His journey into her life was no less a fairytale.
By retrieving Abu Ul-Khayr's lost ring which was stolen by a notorious thief, Abdul, an orphan, had become a hero in the tribe.
Having earned himself a position in the sheikh's heart, Abu Ul Khayr, against the advice of his ministers, lifted Abdul onto his horse and brought him into their home. He was to be raised no less than the sheikh's own son.
Under one condition, loyalty.
Abdul was to train to become the sheikh's greatest fighter. So strong that one day he could be trusted to become the head of the sheikh's guard. One of the most powerful men in the tribe.
He did, but his training was encouraged by the presence of a curious little girl. The sheikh's lone daughter.
Laila was merely four years old when Abdul first arrived in her home.
In the beginning, she was apprehensive, only watching from afar as the stubborn seven year old continuously fell off his horse. He made her laugh, with his messy clothes and dishevelled hair.
He noticed her too. She was annoying, continuously giggling and mocking him with her eyes. Only one time he fell and began to bleed from his knees, she came running forward in shock.
"Stupid," she muttered as Abdul squinted in anger.
"Go away!" he screamed, causing Laila to sniffle. No one had ever shouted at her like that before.
Abdul looked up, forgetting his own pain. Laila's eyes were wet with unshed tears and her face was scrunched like a sad kitten. He almost felt bad.
Bad enough to profusely apologise, taking the girl inside to sneak in some sweets which were freshly made in the kitchen. She excitedly ate them, her mouth stuffed as she gleamed at him.
Perhaps that is how their friendship had started.
A friendship which had beautifully bloomed into something much more.
He loved her, and he knew that she loved him. That is why he would do anything to stop this union.
Taking hold of his sword, Abdul furiously threw open his door and walked out. Calling for an aide, he ordered him to send out the letters saved for a dire situation such as this.
His second attack.
The same ministers who agreed to this alliance would be the same ministers to stop it.
If they had to die trying, then so be it.
-
They gathered in urgency, hands holding papers which contained their deepest secrets.
Sins of greed and lust exposed.
"I never thought I could gather you all so quickly." Abdul sounded menacing as he stared out of the open window.
"What is the meaning of this?" One minister shouted, throwing the piece of paper to the ground.
"False accusations could have you killed!" he warned, creating an uproar amongst the others.
They began to speak their words of retaliation, hoping Abdul would cease his attack.
Of course, the deed had already been done and their defence was useless. Abdul sucked in a breath of air before turning to face the criminals he was going to save.
"Do not speak your lies to me, shout out your defence to the sultan." His tone was enough to quieten the whole room. He smirked, revelling in the authority he owned.
Lifting the paper from the floor, Abdul lazily read it aloud, circling the men in the room.
"Claiming taxes on the poor to fill your own pocket, heinous crimes for men given the responsibility of stock and livelihood." Abdul scrunched the paper and threw it towards the crowd.
"Although I will admit, some of your other actions are worse. Adultery, interest... theft," he stopped himself from continuing, afraid he would not be able to contain his own anger.
The reason why the tribe was in this mess was because of these very people standing before him.
"Do not think there is no evidence of your betrayal, the wrongdoers always get exposed." Abdul eyes fell onto the sheikh's house, surrounded by soldiers.
"Unfortunately, only I have a way out for all of you," he eyed them as they stood forward, their shoulders heavy with fear.
"We would do anything for you to keep this a secret," said one, to which Abdul smirked.
Exactly what he expected.
Cowards.
"Each one of you holds secret armies of your own. Despite knowing it is treason, You train soldiers behind the sheikh's back to protect yourself and your wealth. Little do you know that there are eyes and ears everywhere. I knew of your crimes a long time ago." Faces stood shocked as Abdul shook his head, disgusted.
These ministers had bought slaves and trained them to kill. Using the same money provided to them by the people, they sought to protect themselves instead.
The ministers fell to their knees, struck at the revelation.
"F-forgive us" they stuttered, pleading for a solution. Before them stood a man who no longer was just the head of the guard, he was the most powerful man in the room, and his words held their salvation.
"Your armies are mine. Mobilise your soldiers, prepare them for a wedding."
-
"Laila." He repeated her name, mesmerised.
"Yes, that is the name of your future wife." Usman stood from his position and eyed his second in command, Hassan.
"Since when did you turn into such a smart boy?" He asked as Hassan shrugged.
"I've always been quite bright," his friend winked whilst caressing his sword.
"Should we need to take these weapons, or would it be too intimidating?" Sarcasm dripped from his question.
Usman grabbed his keffiyeh, attempting to put it on in preparation for his so-called wedding ceremony.
"Don't be foolish Hassan. It is my wedding, of course we will bring them." He wrapped the scarf around his head, carefully arranging it as per tradition. His white thobe was pristine, sure to get ruined with dust as the day continued.
Hassan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "If you say so."
Usman turned, watching him attempt to put on his own keffiyeh. It was like watching a child. He stopped him from continuing, taking the scarf and completing it himself.
"Your wife was right to ask for an extravagant mehr, she has her hands full."
"And you will make a great husband, such a kind gentleman." Hassan laughed mockingly before feeling a sharp pain in his arm.
"Perhaps we should increase your training time," the smile immediately disappeared from Hassan's face as he rubbed his arm.
"I hear you sheikh."
Usman stayed quiet, calculating his next move. So far, the plan was smoothly ongoing. Al-Muharibun had showcased their strength, destroying the courage of the enemy.
Needless to say, fear alone is never enough. Perhaps that is why he had instructed his warriors to dress for a war today.
"Half the soldiers stay, the rest come with me. Keep in your positions at all times, you never know what they have up their sleeves." Usman's demeanour changed, switching from playful to serious.
He scanned the lines, ensuring his men were armed properly for the journey ahead.
This was nothing more than a battleground, and his prize would be his bride.