Chapter 5
اÙعار-Dishonour
The moon summons you to colour the sky pink. Rise, as the sun begins its slumber.
A soul which yearned to be free of the walls of her tribe; desiring to discover that which she had not seen before. It was exciting to imagine a life with no bounds.
Yet, as the air of familiarity was replaced with the air of an enemy, a chill began to overcome her entire being. Freedom was not written as so cold and unbearable.
His back was to her, but his eyes never left. Her soft heart was beginning to freeze, almost harmonising with the cooling desert.
Would she become like him? Empty.
"We are here." A man they called Hassan rode his horse close to them. His interactions with Usman had until now indicated a deep friendship.
Laila looked beyond her captor, noticing a large camp before them. The surrounding world was blocked by big tents which stood upon a previously empty land. Their attacking point was certainly well thought-out. A location which showcased the entirety of her tribe.
Their eyes missed nothing.
A sudden sound of cheers caught her attention. Perhaps in celebration for a new union?
Laila almost scoffed.
'Why do they celebrate whilst my heart weeps', she thought, feeling her nerves grow. Shy, as always. Head down, stay silent.
The caravan rode deeper into the camp, the rest of the horses stopping before they reached the largest tent. It was placed in the centre of their temporary abode, and was undoubtedly Laila's resting place for the night.
A crowd had now appeared around them. Ironically, the same men who threatened her tribe were now beaming, their faces wide with joy.
"Would you follow tribal tradition?" One asked, as Laila's horse came to a stop behind Usman's. Their leader jumped off, glancing around before turning his gaze towards his trophy.
His steps towards her were commanding, the short distance offering no time to collect herself. Laila could do nothing as her heart began to pound, his arms swiftly lifting her from the horse.
The tradition of carrying your bride into her new home, as though they had married for affection.
Laila clenched her fists, wanting to strike them against his chest.
"Here is the prize of Al-Muharibun, the bride of Usman!" He announced, gleaming with pride.
"Let go of me," she hissed, beginning to struggle in his arms.
He refused to look down at her, only staring straight ahead. He moved forward, quickly approaching the tent.
Grand it was. Huge on the inside with two separated sections. Colourful rugs lined the walls and the floors. A small table had papers scattered around it; plans of invasion perhaps. The second section offered more comfort, holding a floor length mattress with plush pillows.
Laila breathed in, the smell of bukhoor filling her senses. Her mind was momentarily distracted before she was suddenly dropped onto the bed.
"How dare you?!" Her anger fuelled her as she pushed herself to sit up.
"You can remove your face covering, I am your husband now." Usman informed, watching as she crossed her arms in defiance. Laila scowled, "no."
He kneeled before her, lightly grabbing her shoulders. She faced him, glaring in fury.
"And when would you want to?" He reached behind her head, finding the string which held the veil together. Her eyes widened.
"Don't," she warned, pushing her hands against him.
This night was one she had thought of sometimes. A precious night for a newly married couple. Only now, it was ruined.
She turned away, when suddenly the weight dropped from her face.
Her cheeks warmed. Of course, he would not listen.
She felt his gaze. The heat of his stare forced her own eyes to close, unwilling to open.
Perhaps opening them was to appreciate his stare? The first man to see her beautified.
Would she crave his approval?
"Do not punish me with your terrifying gaze. It burns." Laila scrunched her eyes, finally allowing the light of the candles in. Usman was still, an unknown emotion lurking on his chiselled face.
What would a pure woman know of the desires of men?
"Would a gaze be enough to replace lost words?" He spoke, creating a fluttering in her stomach. Laila attempted a brave face.
"What do you mean?" Her naivety was overwhelming. Usman leaned forward, seeming to want to tell her a secret. Instead, she felt the heavy weight on her head disappear as the headpiece she wore was removed.
Laila instantly jumped back, "What are you doing?!" She shouted, strands of loose hair falling around her face.
"Finding the words you seek."
She looked at him in innocence, her dark eyes holding confusion. "What words?" She asked.
Usman smiled, "I have travelled to many places, marvelled at the beauty of creation." The scarf on Laila's head fell as it was left without a base. He sucked in a breath.
"But never have I been left speechless."
They paused, her finally beginning to understand his admiration.
"We are not in a usual relationship." She whispered. Her guard was wavering, enveloped in shyness, Laila could barely look him in the eyes.
"Correct. Most relationships do not include one loving another." She creased her brows, confused at his accusation.
"You torture me with groundless lies. I am not like you or the people who call you their leader," she defended herself as he only sniggered in reply.
"Are we so evil to save your tribe from starvation?" His question caught her off guard.
"We starved because of you!" Laila suddenly shouted, shaken at his words.
They were the ones to blame.
Usman approached her, seizing her shoulders.
"No, they were starving because you let them. Do you think the child we saw that night was so desperate only because of a siege?" Memories of their night in the alleyway returned to her, a poor child and his need for gold.
She had never known too much of how her people lived before Al-Muharibun had invaded. Most of her time was spent within the palace walls, forbidden to leave without her father's permission.
Only, her father was never home long enough for her to ask.
"He...he was running from you-"
"Or perhaps with me, he saw hope." Laila shook her head, appalled at his words.
Hope?
"Ah yes, hope. The invaders of Arabia bring hope wherever they go. I myself, I am filled with so much hope as I am ripped away from my home." She tried to pull herself away from him, forcing his hold to only tighten.
"I thought you as more intelligent than that, Amirah." He chuckled. "But what more can I accept from a woman who threw herself to the ground to save another man." She gasped, stunned at his words.
Usman dropped his hands, briefly glancing at his bride. She was seething, glaring at him with such hatred that he could no longer take it. He left in haste, refusing to look back.
His accusations were defamation.
How could he suggest that her people were starving because of her? Laila and her family hated to see hunger fill the streets. They did as much as they could, giving away most of what they had and expecting nothing in return.
Her father was noble, living humbly only to provide for his people. She would not allow him to be slandered.
"May I come in?" A quiet voice immediately interrupted her thoughts, summoning her attention. She glanced around at the accessories scattered on the floor.
"Who is it?"
"I have come with food." a woman replied softly. Laila was cautious before approving the visit, staring in curiosity as a petite figure entered her abode.
"Hello Amirah," the woman greeted, seeming almost like an innocent gazelle.
"Who are you?" Laila asked, watching as the woman put down a basket filled with delicious smelling food.
"It's not much, but as it's your wedding day we wished to feast." She bought forward a platter filled with rice, a piece of meat laid on top. Laila bit her cheeks, her stomach grumbling as she fought between her hunger and self respect.
She could not eat from them.
"You must eat! Usman is a big man, you will need energy." The woman humoured herself, only stopping her giggle when seeing Laila's mortification.
"Did I say something wrong?" Her naivety was tormenting.
"You should tell me your name" Laila began to show frustration as the girl shyly nodded.
"Yes, my apologies. I am Maryam, the wife of Hassan." Usman's close friend came to mind. Perhaps the only man who bore any resemblance to Usman's character. The poor girl had probably suffered much under his rule.
"You are very beautiful." Maryam complimented. Laila felt her cheeks warm, "thank you" she smiled, surprised at her kindness.
"I know it may seem daunting but I promise you, we are not harmful. In fact, when you return to our city you will see the truth." Her reassurance fell thin, Laila did not need her sympathy.
She bit her lip as her stomach suddenly roared.
Maryam stifled a giggle, bringing the platter of food forward. "Do not torture yourself. If you wish to battle with the sheikh, you need strength." Laila looked towards her in haste.
"What do you mean-?"
"Mama!" a child's voice suddenly sounded in the tent as Maryam immediately stood, ushering in a young boy.
"What are you doing here Isa?" She asked whilst stroking his hair.
"I came to see the bride," he looked up sheepishly. Laila attempted to seem emotionless, not wanting to forget her rage by interacting with them. She could not forget her reason for being here, her sacrifice.
"You should leave now." Laila dared not to look at them, fearing for her heart's deception. Maryam sighed as the child's lips began to quiver.
"Mama, you said I could see her?" his accusing eyes hit his mother as Laila's heart fell. She could not succumb to indifference.
"Wait... What is this child's name?" she asked, walking towards him. He stepped forward.
"My name is Isa," he introduced with joy. Children were so easy to please.
She kneeled beside him.
"What pretty eyes you have." He gleamed at the compliment.
"My baba says I have coloured eyes like sheikh Usman!" The mention of his name brought back the bitterness which she so fought.
"Well, they are beautiful." They were.
Laila slyly kissed his cheek as Isa's face turned red. He touched it in awe before abruptly running out of the tent, his mother chuckling as she followed. Laila mimicked her pleasure, smiling as she watched them leave.
Her cheerfulness was short-lived when the air suddenly fell silent. Loneliness entrapped her as she walked towards the round mirror placed on top of the table.
The image before her was dishevelled, ruined. Looking nothing like herself.
Laila took some water and a cloth, proceeding to remove her ruined makeup. She gave into the platter of food, imagining her father's disdain on this night.
How he had been tarnished because of the tribe she resided in.
Abdul must be distraught. She prayed for her father's mercy on him. Hoping that perhaps, Abdul would recover from this.
Her eyes closed in sadness, succumbing to exhaustion.
Even warriors must sleep.
-
"Your bride awaits you yet you accompany the horses." Usman stepped back as he watched Hassan walk up to the makeshift stables.
"You know as much as I do, the girl in question is far from a joyful bride." He stroked the horse before him, rarely gentle.
"And you seem far from a joyful groom. Have you attempted to speak to her?" Hassan joined Usman as they both sat on the ground, staring at the night sky.
"She came willingly." He spoke with conviction. Hassan shook his head, "of course she did."
"There was no other way." Usman looked to the ground, a feeling of guilt overwhelming him.
"Not when the sultan had ordered it, right? Your loyalty to him is as mine is to you. Untouchable." Hassan chuckled, almost tormentingly.
"Are you suggesting the sultan did wrong?" Usman felt his gaze stiffen.
It was all for a worthy cause.
"Baba!" A small child ran towards them, falling straight into his father's arms. "Isa, my lion. Why are you running?" he asked, cradling his young son.
"The princess kissed me!" he shouted excitedly as Usman sat up, the mention of Laila capturing his attention.
"The cubs are loved more than the mate." Hassan spoke sarcastically, revelling in the scowl on his friend's face.
"My love, it's time to sleep," Maryam entered the stables, not noticing Usman until after she had embraced her husband. She jumped back, bowing her head slightly.
Usman nodded in acknowledgement.
Hassan, Maryam and Isa. He admired the small family, witnessing a gift he could never have.
His friend found his happiness.
"How is she?" he finally asked.
"As good as anyone would be should they be taken from everything they know." Her reply was blunt. "Maryam." Hassan warned as his wife looked away.
"We will take your leave," he hurried his family away, leaving Usman with his thoughts.
He sighed in frustration.
This was his promise, a choice made too long ago now to be broken.
They had awaited an age for this moment.
How could things change now?
Perhaps the girl in his tent deserved love,
But the most dangerous thing was to love.
The walk back was long and tiresome.
He had to return. If not, then people would talk. And the last thing Usman needed was rumours.
The image of her body on his bed consumed him. His steps towards her grew faster as he dropped the sword he carried and stared upon her image. An angel.
Gently stroking her cheek, he was overcome with an emotion which could have ruined him.
Her eyes suddenly flashed open, not anticipating the closeness between them. It took only a second for Laila to jump up.
"How dare you!" she glared at his audacity. The arrogant look in his eyes refused to back down, only igniting further fire within her.
Even a small touch from him was like poison.
Of course, she was the one who had signed her life over by accepting him as her husband.
The very thought made her nauseous.
"Stay away from me." She warned, attempting to sound intimidating.
"Stay away from my wife?" he replied sarcastically, the fight in her eyes humouring him.
The candles surrounding them flickered as Laila reached for the sword that Usman had previously dropped. Before he could move to stop her, she pointed it at his throat.
He cocked his head. At least she was not boring.
Although the hate radiating off of her was enough to force a shiver even down his spine.
If only things were different...
"Put down the sword." He spoke gently, raising his hands to indicate his intentions.
How easy it would be to take her weapon, but where would be the fun in that?
They circled each other.
Prey and predator.
Both believed the other was weaker,
Both were wrong.
"Is it not enough that you took me from my home, now you threaten me with dishonour?" Her attempt at forcing empathy failed.
"Tell me Laila, is it dishonour if the man who claims you is your husband?" His question forced her to raise an eyebrow as she straightened the sword.
"If the husband is you, then yes."
The annoyance at her statement did good to numb the slight pinch of hurt.
"Your dishonour was evident when you begged for a life that was not yours." Usman was full of spite as he recalled Laila fall to her knees for another man.
On a day that belonged to him, amongst all the chaos, she saw no one but his enemy.
"His life is worth more to me."
They froze as the words spilled out, words that Laila could not stop herself from declaring.
Her instinct begged to apologise, but to apologise was to admit defeat.
Whilst she stayed lost in anguish, Usman used the opportunity to take hold of her hand, forcing her sword to drop to the floor. He walked forward, compelling her back till she felt the mattress beneath her.
"Do not." Her warning almost turned into a plea.
What were the duties of a wife? Would this be her only use now?
"I do not care if it is our wedding night, let it be written as the worst night of my life." Laila closed her eyes and turned her face, not admitting loss and yet almost giving in.
She felt him above her, holding his weight with his hands.
"A night between us with no bounds." He finally said. "For one night what is forbidden, can be lawful." His words held a deeper meaning, one filled with an unspoken desire.
Usman had won, and now he wanted his prize.
But she was the one thing he could not have.
"You will never be lawful for me." She glared at him as he sighed and dropped his head, just above her shoulder, close enough so she could hear his silent breathing.
The night grew deeper as the candles around them dimmed. Usman found himself pacing around the tent, carefully observed by his attentive wife.
She could not affect him. So why was her presence suffocating?
His mind battled with his heart and yet both wanted the same thing.
Laila.
He left in a hurry, not speaking another word. She watched him, finally releasing a breath of air as he left the tent.
You forced my hand in marriage but you stopped when you knew I did not want you.
Usman,
Who are you?