A.D. 30(6)

And so he made it clear. My fear gave way to welling anger and I lost my good sense.

“How dare you?” I did not stop myself. “Your wife lies dead behind you and you think only of your own neck? What kind of honor lies in the chest of a king such as you? It was you who planted your seed in my mother’s womb! I am the fruit of your lust! And now you curse me?”

My words might have been made of stone, for he stood as if struck.

“And you would rule the desert?” I demanded. “Shame on you!”

My father was no king, for no Bedu would submit to a king. Yet by cunning and shrewdness, by noble blood and appointment of the tribal elders, he was as powerful as any king and ruled a kingdom marked not by lines in the sand, but by loyalty of the heart.

His silence emboldened me. “Rami thinks only of his loss. I see Maliku in you.”

“Maliku?”

“Is he not your true son? Is not my son only a bastard in your eyes?”

“Silence!” he thundered.

But I had robbed the worst of his anger. Misery swallowed him as he stared at me.

He staggered to the bed, sank to his knees, and lifted his face to the ceiling, sobbing. I stood behind, my anger gone, cheeks wet with tears.

Slowly his chin came down and he bowed his head, rocking over Nasha’s corpse.

“Father…”

“Leave me now.”

“But I—”

“Leave me!”

Choked with emotion, I took one last look at Nasha’s stiffening form, then rose and walked away. But before I could leave, the door swung open. There in its frame stood Maliku, Rami’s son.

Fear cut through my heart.

Even so early in the day, he was dressed in rich blue with a black headdress, always eager to display his pride and wealth. He had Rami’s face, but he was leaner and his lips thinner over a sparse beard. His eyes were as dark as Rami’s, but I imagined them to be empty wells, offering no life to the thirsty.

He looked past me and studied Nasha’s still form. I saw no regret on his face, only a hint of smug satisfaction.

Maliku’s stare shifted from Nasha and found me. In a sudden show of indignation, his arm lashed out like a viper’s strike. The back of his hand landed a stinging blow to my cheek.

I staggered, biting back the pain.

His lips curled. “This is your doing.”

Neither I nor my father protested his show of disfavor.

“Take your bastard son and offer yourself to the desert,” he said, stepping past me to address our father. “She must leave us. We must place blame for all to see.”

Father pushed himself to his feet, making no haste to respond. Instead, as a man gazing into the abyss of his doom, he stared at Nasha’s body. Maliku was within his rights. But surely he saw my son as a threat to his power, I thought. This was the root of his bitterness.

“Father—”

“Be quiet, Maliku,” Rami said, turning a glare to his son. “Remember whom you speak to!”

Maliku glared, then dipped his head in respect.

Rami paced, gathering his resolve. If Maliku had been younger my father might have punished him outright for his tone, but already Maliku was powerful in the eyes of many. Truly, Rami courted an enemy in his own home.

“Father, if it please you,” Maliku said, growing impatient. “I only say…”

“We will honor Nashquya at the shrine today,” Rami said, cutting him short. “In private. No one must know she has passed. We cannot risk the Thamud learning of this. They are far too eager to challenge me.”

“Indeed.”

“Then you will take ten men, only the most trusted. Seek out the clans west, south, and north. Tell them to return to Dumah immediately. I would have them here in three days.”

I could see Maliku’s mind turning behind his black eyes.

“Three days have passed since they left the great fair,” he said. “It will take more than three days to reach them and return.”

“Do I not know my own desert? It’s our good fortune that many of our tribe are still so close. They will be traveling slowly, fat from the feasts. Take the fastest camels. Let them die reaching the clans if you must. Leave the women and the children in the desert. Return to me in three days’ time with all of the men.”

Father was right. Ordinarily the Kalb would have been spread over a vast desert, each clan to its own grazing lands.

“If it please you, Father, may I ask what is your purpose in this?”

Rami pulled at his beard. “I would have all of the Kalb in Dumah to pay their respects and mourn the passing of their queen.”

“Their queen? The Bedu serve no queen.”

“Today they serve a queen!” Rami thundered, stepping toward Maliku. “Her name is Nashquya and her husband is their sheikh and this is his will!”