The Jewel Of Medina by Jones Sherry

Author:Jones, Sherry [Jones, Sherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780825305184
Google: 2VotAwEACAAJ
Amazon: B005GNLWVC
Goodreads: 3426706
Publisher: Beaufort Books
Published: 2008-10-14T13:00:00+00:00

AN UNPICKED FLOWER

WADI AL-HAMD OASIS, JANUARY 627

As our caravan departed for Medina, my mind wavered with each sway of my camel’s back. Safwan’s offer of escape made my pulse leap in anticipation. With him I’d be able to live out my dream of freedom, for hadn’t we conjured that notion together long ago? Yet my heart trembled at the thought of leaving Muhammad. Would al-Lah strike me dead for abandoning His Prophet?

I leaned back in my seat, dizzy with indecision. Muhammad had been my morning of light for as long as I could remember. We had always had more of a father-child relationship, it was true, but I depended on his friendship. Yet unless he changed his view of me from child to woman, I’d never have the control over my life that I needed. The longer his caravan of wives grew, the slimmer my chances of catching his eye, of conceiving his heir, and of holding my place as number one in his harim. How could I endure the dread gathering like a dark cloud in me with each new marriage? Yet—how could I bear losing Muhammad, never to see or touch or talk with him again?

When he came to visit me in my hawdaj, I would decide. When I saw his face, I would know what to do. Maybe he would apologize for leaving me waiting in our tent. I was disappointed, also, A’isha, he would say. I did not want another wife, but I had no choice.

My intentions shifted with my body, back and forth, leave or stay, Safwan or Muhammad, as our caravan rode into the night, torches flaming against the deep, their lights glimmering in the wild eyes of desert rats, the light defining rocks as rocks and not jackals about to pounce or, worse, dagger-wielding Bedouins. We illumined the sands as brightly as if the sun shone in the sky, but peer and yearn though I might, I couldn’t glimpse Muhammad. At last I asked the driver of my camel where he might be.

“He accompanies his new bride-to-be, the princess of the Mustaliq,” the driver said. “Shall I have him summoned for you?” I dropped the curtain and slumped in my seat.

At the Wadi al-Hamd oasis, the caravan stopped for a few hours’ rest—and Muhammad finally came to me. Or, I should say, he walked past my camel and thrust his face through the curtains for barely an instant.

“Greetings, A’isha. I am glad to see you are well,” he said—and then disappeared again.

“Wait!” I pushed the annoying curtains aside and called out to him. “Yaa Muhammad, come back!” I saw the flicker of a frown before he summoned a smile and strode over to me. I forced myself to smile, also. Everything depended on these next few moments. I reached for his hand and stroked it gently with my fingertips.

“I’ve been expecting you, habibi,” I said as sweetly as possible. “Are we stopping to camp? You and I had plans for the evening, remember?”

His eyes darted to the front of the caravan, where he had been riding with his new princess.

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