A.D. 30(5)

It is said that these ghouls and nasnas and jinn prey on the weak, on children, and on women who are dishonorable. Although I wasn’t sure that such creatures truly existed, I sometimes dreamed of them and woke in fear.

The night Nasha left me I dreamed that I was alone with little Rami, wandering in the wastelands of the Nafud, that merciless desert south of Dumah. We were outcasts and without a kingdom to save us, and the gods were too far above in the heavens to hear our cries. Soon our own wailing was overcome by the mocking cry of ghouls hunting us, and it was with these howls in my ear that I awoke, wet with sweat.

It took only a moment to realize that the ghastly wail issued from the halls and not from the spirits of my dreams.

Little Rami slept soundly on the mat next to me, his arms resting above his shaggy head, lost to the world and the sounds of agony.

I sat up, heart pounding, and knew I was hearing my father from a distant room.

I rolled away from my child, sprang to my feet, and raced up the steps and down the hallway, uncaring that I wasn’t properly dressed, for it was too hot to sleep in more than a thin gown.

So distraught was I that I flung the door open without thought of seeking permission to enter.

My gaze went straight to the bed. Nasha lay on her back with her eyes closed and her mouth parted. Her lips had the pallor of burnt myrrh, gray and lifeless. No breath entered her.

My father, unaware of my entry, stood beside the bed with his back to me.

Here was the most powerful Bedu in northern Arabia, for his strength in battle and raids was feared by all tribes. Like all great Bedu he was steeped in honor, which he would defend to the death. Nasha was responsible for a significant portion of that honor.

His first wife, Durrah, who was Maliku’s mother, had been killed in a raid many years earlier. Filled with fury and thirsty for revenge, Rami had crossed the desert alone, walked into the main encampment of the Tayy tribe, and slaughtered their sheikh with a broadsword right before the eyes of the clansmen. So ruthless and bold was his revenge that the Tayy honored him with a hundred camels in addition to the life of their sheikh, of which Rami had been deserving.

Blood was always repaid by blood. An eye for an eye. Clansman for clansman. Only vengeance could restore honor. This or blood money. Or, less commonly, mercy, offered also with blood in a tradition called the Light of Blood.

It was the way of the Bedu. It was the way of the gods. It was the way of my father.

But here in Nasha’s chamber there was no sign of that man.

Rami was dressed only in his long nightshirt, hands tearing at his hair as he sobbed. He raised clenched fists at the ceiling.

“Why?” he demanded.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I wanted to join him in grief, but I could not move, much less raise Nasha from the dead.

He hurled his accusations at the heavens. “Why have you cursed me with this death? I am a beast hunted by the gods for bringing this curse to the sands. I am at the mercy of their vengeance for all of my sins!”

He was heaping shame on himself for allowing Nasha to die in his care.

“You have cursed me with a thousand curses and trampled my heart with the hooves of a hundred thousand camels!”

He grabbed his shirt with both hands and tore it to expose his chest. “I, Rami bin Malik, who wanted only to live in honor, am cursed!”

I was torn between anguish at Nasha’s passing and fear of Rami’s rage.

“Why?” he roared.

“Father…”

He spun to me, face wet with tears. For a moment he looked lost, and then rage darkened his eyes.

“She’s dead!” His trembling finger stretched toward me. “You have killed her!”

“No!” Had he heard of my visit? Surely not.

“You and the whore who was your mother! And Aretas! And all of this cursed desert!”

I could not speak.

He shoved his hand toward Nasha’s body. “Her gods have conspired to ruin me. I curse them all. I curse Dushares and Al-Uzza. I spit on Quam. All have brought me calamity.”

“No, Father… please… I serve you first, before all the gods.”

He stared at me, raging. “Six months! You have been here only six months and already the gods punish me.”

“She was a sister to me!” I said. “I too loved Nasha…”

“Nasha?” His face twisted with rage. “Nasha bewitched me in pleading I take you in. Today I curse Nasha and I curse the daughter who is not my own. Do you know what you have done?”

I was too numb to fully accept the depth of his bitterness. He mourned the threat to his power, not Nasha’s passing?

“Aretas will now betray me. All that I have achieved is now in jeopardy for the pity I have taken on the shamed.”