The Upside
Chapter 2
He started awake early, unaccustomed to the sounds of the many camps around him; horses being taken for a morning walk, men and women carrying water for the day, merchants taking their wares to the inner circle where the market was.
Staring at the sloping fabric of his tent he wished, just briefly, that the morning would have greeted him with its customary breathy silence, so typical of the desert and so comforting.
Then, scolding himself for his morose moods, he decided that the opportunity to go to these races was rare in the extreme, and that he had better enjoy them to the fullest extend. There would be a lifetime of waking to the silence of the Sahara – and now only six days of the races.
Outside his second in command sat by the fire, savouring a cup of coffee. Hard to come by in the desert, the stuff was easily bought at the market, and Fouad had taken the opportunity to buy several bags of beans.
"That devilish substance will turn your innards black some day, my friend!" Ardeth declared, grinning at the way Fouad shielded his cup instinctively with his hands.
"There is tea also! And you are early Ardeth, I thought you wished to take this week to indulge in idleness."
"The noise woke me. Besides, we have to prepare for the parade. Nassar tells me it is a good opportunity to open trade contacts."
"Indeed so. Omar and Ihsan have already left for the inner circle. Swordsmiths like to work early, apparently."
"I cannot blame them for not intending to work with the fires in midday."
"Indeed. So, the parade?"
"Supposed to quite an event. Everybody dresses up and shows off to everybody else."
Fouad chuckled.
"You make it sound so attractive. Does this have anything to do with the 'gentle' encouragement of the council that you find a wife?"
He winced at his second in command, wishing he wasn't so transparent to the man.
"I have no interest in any of these women, nor do I care to be assessed for my marriageable qualities alike a goat on market day."
"Would you like some coffee to go with that bitter mood, my friend? What makes you say there is no one here of interest to you? Have you met all of them?"
"They see only the riches. If they would look further, they would realise that the life I have to offer would make them deeply unhappy."
He remembered all too well the speculative faced of the young women he had seen the night before. Who is he? What kind of husband would he make?
"What makes you think you could not offer a woman happiness?"
There, Ardeth knew, his friend touched upon a sensitive point. Having seen his mother struggle in her marriage with his father and blossom after his death, he did not truly believe that the wife of a tribe leader could find happiness in that life.
Fouad, long since attuned to his moods, continued.
"You forget, I think, that while your father was a great leader, he did not particularly care about the happiness of your mother or you and your siblings."
Ardeth nodded slowly.
"And I would say that in your concern for your future family you already give them far more chance of a contented family life than he ever did. Happiness does not require you to be present at all times, nor to give up your sacred duties. It requires your attention, care, devotion and above all your love."
"And it is possible to be both a good leader and a good husband, you say?"
"Indeed it is. You have but had the misfortune to not have witnessed such qualities by example. The Bay line does not have a history of loving unions."
It was a good friend indeed who would speak to him thusly, Ardeth knew. No other would dare speak of his father in such words, unwilling as they were to speak ill of the last leader. But Fouad had witnessed how the young Ardeth had longed desperately for the love and approval of a father, and in the rare moments Ardeth opened his heart to him, would take on the fatherly role his young leader missed in his life.
"How does one know the right partner to form such a loving union with? How did you know that Junah was the one for you?"
He watched as a warm smile of remembrance came over the face of his friend. Junah had passed away six years ago, but Fouad's love for his wife had not waned, and though his status warranted it, he had never wed another.
"It was as if lightning stuck my heart. She smiled at me and I could not move, not speak. I wished only to be allowed to love her and be loved by her in return. She made me wish to be a better man, and I changed that day, never to be like I was before I met my Junah…"
Ardeth smiled at the deep love evident in Fouad's face. If he could one day speak of his wife with such words, he would have done well.
"She was at times harsh as the desert sun that gave her her name, argued with me if I should fail to take her wishes into account… But when I returned from patrols weary and covered in blood and dust, she took me into her bed and soothed me, healing my hurts with her love."
That was what he sought in a wife, Ardeth realised. Someone who could capture and keep his attention, but above all someone who could be harsh as the life of the Medjai sometimes required and yet would let herself be tempered by his love. Someone who would stand up to him and demand to be his equal partner, and yet would love him even as they argued.
He had sometimes wondered if Fahyallah had not been too gentle a match for his father, to much inclined to bow to his wishes. He found himself wishing for a wife who would not put his wishes above her own – if he made her unhappy, he wished to be told, so that he could amend.
If such a lady existed, he knew he would not find her here, where daughters were raised to be the meek, decorative wives that bore their husbands sons and bowed to his will.
Nonetheless he knew the conversation had eased his heart, shown him a different way of looking at the situation. He clapped a friendly hand onto Fouad's shoulder.
"I must decline the offer of coffee, but I thank you for your words, my friend."
Athir rumbled as his master approached. The horse was the only one standing as always; the leader watched over his group.
The horse came over to Ardeth to sniff his hands. He stood there caressing it for a while. Athir – the Favoured. And the horse was; it was one of the most prized animals the Med-jai had. A leader of horses fit for a leader of men.
He saddled the animal, brought it outside the coral and mounted. Athir snorted impatiently, thrilled by the idea of taking a closer look at the busy camps and many horses he had seen from the coral.
Ardeth gave the horse its head and together they rode through the sleeping camps, toward the lake.
Athir shied back from the waterline, certain that the shimmering sand couldn't possibly be safe footing. Then, feet safely on dry land and neck stretched to its utmost, the horse snorted at the water. When his breath caused ripples on the surface, he leapt back a pace, and Ardeth could not hold back his laughter.
"Sahibi, it is but water!"
Curiosity winning out over fright, the horse approached again, snorting loudly at the surface of the lake. Ardeth's laughter stilled to a smile, beyond fond of his proud horse.
Even in oases the Medjai moderated the amount of water their horses could drink, to curb the risk of colic and to preserve water for other times they might need it. This lake was so large Athir did not even seem to recognise it as water, and it amused him to see his horse overcome its initial unease.
He fondly stroked the broad neck as the horse finally dropped its head for a drink, body still tensed to retreat at the first sign of danger.
When Athir had drank to his satisfaction, Ardeth gazed along the edge of the lake. Most of the narrow beachside was empty at this time of day. It would be a good ride, enabling him to see some more of the camps and let Athir blow off steam before the parade of the afternoon.
It started in a fine canter, but when the beach before them was clear for easily a mile, the horse chomped down on the bit, eager to stretch its legs. Ardeth laughed and gave it free rein. As always the acceleration thrilled him, blew away the sands of worry and disquiet from his mind.
The loose end of his lithan whipped behind him, and the wind forced tears from his eyes. Hard hooves beat the sand along the lake's edge, and he was half aware of people stopping to watch him pass by, admiring looks being directed to him. Athir, thrilled as his master, sped up yet further. But Ardeth, never quite able to not be the leader of his people, resisted the urge to whoop as he once might have.
Nearing the point of the beach where he had started, he took up the reins, and the horse obediently shortened its paces, slowing to a gentle trot. Athir snorted and shook his head happily, refreshed from the run.
"Soh…soh…" he soothed, until the animal could be convinced to slow to a walk. The sprint had but served to warm the horse for further action; it was not tired in the least. Riding down a pathway away from the lake he had to weave between people and hand-pulled carts, for the camps came alive early, to get things out of the way before the heat of midday slowed life to a crawl.
"Ya sayyid Ardeth!"
Turning in the saddle in surprise, he suddenly found himself surrounded by his own men and camels – Abdul-Rahim had arrived with the eight camels Nassar had wished to take to the races.
"Rahim! You were not expected until sundown!"
"We made better progress than expected, for Amar was eager to reach the destination," the older man laughed, gesturing to the young warrior that looked around him with wide eyes.
"It is so… enormous!"
"Isn't it, lad? If our leader cannot find a lady here that pleases him, she must not exist!" Rahim bantered. Ardeth gave him a severe look, quietly wishing that topic would not come up for conversation as much as it did. For some reason his warriors found the order of the council concerning this matter intensely amusing.
Grinning broadly, Abdul-Rahim inclined his head.
"We mean no disrespect, Ardeth. We but wish to see you experience the bliss that is the company of a good woman!"
"Have you been to our camp yet?" he coolly changed the subject. The other man sobered, realising this was not a topic his leader cared to banter about.
"We have arrived only just now, and went to water the camels first."
"Good. I will show you where we have set up – away from this din."
As they rode people stepped aside and gazed up at the tattoaged men as they rode proudly along the road. Between the peoples of the Nile valleys they were a sight to behold, Ardeth knew – moving with the grace and pride that marked only the highest of status.
"Well look who has arrived!" called Nassar as they entered the Medjai encampment. "Excellent! You can get ready for the parade straight away."
The newly arrived men groaned and demanded to be given time to eat and refresh themselves. Ardeth paid no more attention to it.
What to do now? There were a few hours before the parade started, but he really wasn’t in the mood for the busy atmosphere of the central square. Hearing Athir whickering to his herd, he decided to spend his time with his horse, taking the time for some extra attention. He retrieved the bag with brushes and the ceremonial tack adornments and went to where his horse still stood.
Athir followed him curiously. The horse wasn’t used to so much undivided attention from its master, and playfully searched the man's pockets in case there was something edible there.
Ardeth didn’t often have the time to really give attention to his horse, and was pleasantly surprised by how calming it felt. He remembered how Ester would seek the company of her horses when she was upset, and suddenly understood.
He had always loved horses, but somewhere along the way to adulthood and leadership he had forgotten how pleasant it was to just be close with one. His horse was not young anymore, but it seemed to be in an unusually playful mood. Good-naturedly it twisted and turned to achieve that the caresses ended up in the places where he wanted them, and Ardeth could not help but laugh.
Finally he simply stood with his arms around the horse's heavy neck. It gently rested its head on Ardeth's shoulder, and they stood like that for some time, the peace of the long, slow equine breaths seeping into him.
Eventually Athir grew restless and bugled to the horses that were ridden in and out of the Imtiyaz camp. Ardeth released his horse and set about adorning it with the sets of ceremonial decorations. The plain tack for everyday use was beset with dark blue tassels, moving as the horse moved and thus keeping it free of flies.
The formal sets were the same in function, but the tassels were blue and silver, the saddleblankets richly beset with silver star patterns and yet more tassels hung from the edges. In other tribes the blankets would have had silver coins hanging also, chiming gently as they rode – but the Medjai, silent shadows of the desert even in their own ceremonies, rode in silence.
Around him the others had returned to adorn their horses and camels similarly, fussing with dusty coats and elaborate headstalls.
Dust drifted on the wind as Ramin, Nassar's apprentice, cursed his grey horse. Usually the whitest white, it had taken the opportunity to roll in the red mud of a spilled bucket of water.
Since it was mainly an opening for trade opportunities, Nassar had taken over organisation for the parades, and Ardeth was content simply to mind his own horse.
Finally they all changed into ceremonial garb, lighter cloth and silver stars and finely crafted daggers by the hands of Omar. Ardeth wrapped Fouad's lithan in the elaborate, broad style that they preferred for such occasions, and Fouad returned the favour.
It was a lot of hassle, but when the group was mounted, the hand-horses divided among the riders, and the camels rose to their feet, he had to admit it was worth it. The overall effect was dramatic.
He led the group over the road around the inner camp, and was again overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. Just how many people and horses were present? Finally they arrived at a large open space to the west of the camp. Many riders were gathered there, and yet more were coming.
Ardeth smiled a little at the expression on Nassar’s face. The man devoted his life to the breeding and training of horses, and this was his paradise. All around them the finest animals of
Arabs, both the light type of the desert and the slightly larger ones that were bred in the Nile delta. Berber horses. A large but light-built type he hadn’t seen before. There were some horses that looked like Khamaseen and Amable, and he knew that those must be from the Imtiyaz camp.
A lot of dust was moved up by the milling around, and Ardeth could not see very far. His group stood still, quietly watching the myriad horses around them.
Suddenly the wind picked up, and the dust was momentarily gone. He caught a glimpse of a purely white horse just at the edge of his vision, but it was gone again before he could get a good look.
Ardeth felt the group becoming restless, and led them along the outside of the gathering to the up-wind side, so they would escape from the dust. A young man wearing a bright blue band around his arm – apparently signifying that he was part of the organisation - came to talk to them briefly.
“Good day, sirs.”
The man nodded curtly, and Ardeth recognized the manner of one who has talked to different tribes and families all day. It was too much hassle to have to adapt to each and every leader who thought himself more than the man who brought messages, so this nod meant ‘I respect your status, but I am no less myself.’
Ardeth smiled at the hassled manner. Clearly the day so far had not been without its problems.
“Greetings on this beautiful day. What news do you bring?”
The man looked mildly surprised and then quickly explained the way the parade would take place. Groups would form a double line at the opening to the central square, leaving a path in their middle. Through there would go all the groups, to circle the main square and return.
Nassar nodded at the setup – this would give everybody in the camp the chance to see the groups, but those ahorse had also plenty of opportunity to view each other's horses.
Certainly it was an improvement over the unorganised masses of riders they had come to expect.
After some more milling around they heard the call to form up, and not knowing if there was any order of status being kept to, Ardeth simply rode his group over and positioned them next in the broad line, himself and Nassar centre-front, the camels in the back.
There was a long wait for the other groups to form up, and Athir grew restless, eager to test his dominance against the other horses. Though the horse was schooled to silence and to ignore others while being ridden, when a horse further down the line bugled, it could not keep itself.
The din rose as more horses gave voice to their impatience and curiosity, and Ardeth suddenly recognised a particular hoarse neigh, one he thought he'd identify anywhere.
Down the path between the groups came a group of richly dressed riders on magnificent horses, and from the looks and whispers of the men next to him Ardeth could only conclude the man at the head of the group would be Umayyad bin Kalifah Imtiyaz. He was flanked on the left by a young man, the right side deliberately left open. This was where his lost son would have ridden.
"Magnificent…" he murmured, and Ardeth smiled.
"So you tell me the lady you let go back to her people owns two of those fine beasts?" Nassar asked, disbelief in his voice.
"Indeed so. The large bay and the grey horse on leadline."
"Why did you let her go!?" Nassar jested, and Ardeth grinned at that reaction.
In truth, there had been a moment that he had wondered if he should not try to keep Ester with him. Her uncle had arrived, and when the man turned out to be not nearly the djinn he had imagined from her words he had been relieved. However he found out that this uncle was not the man who would decide over her fate, and from speaking with Abdul-Jalil before the man sought his rest, it was clear that the eldest brother, head of the family, would not be so understanding.
He'd liked Abdul-Jalil, who had clearly adored his older sister and seemed to hold her daughter in high esteem. He was sad about the death of his nephew Amal, but no less pleased to have found his niece alive.
It had occurred to Ardeth that if he were to tell the man of the unfortunate marriage between him and Ester, the family might well decide she was better off with her husband.
She might not want it, but with what awaited her at home, would she not simply be better off in the end? He cared for her, thought he could come to love her – and he had thought to detect some tentative warm feelings from her side also.
Yet... no. Had she not been so distressed at the marriage, merely unwilling, he might have tried to convince her. However she had said it best herself – she wished for no one to have rights over her person. Just the fact that he had had the right, even if not the inclination, to treat her as his wife upset her to the core.
His thoughts took him so far away that he hardly saw the groups of riders parade past him. It was not until Athir came to attention that he blinked and focussed on the group now approaching on its way back from the square.
He noticed now that Imtiyaz riders were by no means the most richly decorated. Family colours were sky-blue and silver, elaborately daggers hung on fine belts, but the clothing was surprisingly practical for ceremonial garb.
Ardeth heard Nassar hold his breath as Abdul-Jalil, now on their side of the group, separated from the line and crossed the few metres between them. Jigging and tossing its head, Khamaseen trotted along.
"Salaam 'alaykum, Ardeth Bay."
"Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu, Abdul-Jalil bin Kalifah Imtiyaz."
The men greeted each other with another half-bow from the saddle.
"It is good to see you have accepted my invitation! I trust your family fares well? I had word of your arrival from one of my cousins. Is the location he assigned you for your camp to you liking?"
Ardeth smiled at this veritable flood of words, and remembered what Ester had said – the line of her mother wore its heart on its sleeve.
"We are well and have found a pleasant campsite. Your family is in equally good health, I hope?"
It was an extremely abbreviated version of the usual ceremony of greeting, in which one inquired after the health of the other's wife, children, mother, father, siblings, tribe elders and finally of his beasts.
"We… are well, for the most part. It has been hard on my people to accept Amal's death."
"Ma'lish. A great evil was done there."
Abdul-Jalil nodded gravely, but the sorrow of the moment was quickly lifted as the grey horse shook its head, jangling the coins and beads that had been braided into its mane. The man smiled again as if the sound had carried away his graveness.
"However Ester fares well, she walks without support!" his face fell again with the next words. "She will soon marry though, in but a few days."
Ardeth nodded. "That is good to hear. I have wondered how she was recovering."
He pointedly did not comment on the pending marriage, having no wish to dwell in it. The other man gave him a sharp look, then again his mood lightened.
"Why do you not come to ask her herself? She will be in our camp."
"Is that appropriate?" Surprised at this offer and having no wish to offend her family, he asked to be sure this was not a breach in decorum.
Abdul-Jalil laughed.
"After the parade, come to our group and I will accompany you. This fellow here," he indicated the grey horse, "is too excitable to be around for the hours my brothers will wish to spend circulating."
"I accept that offer gladly. Would that also be the right moment to introduce Nassar," he indicated the man next to him, "our horse breeder, to those of your family that have an interest in lineages?"
"Certainly it would be. Just now Dhakwan commented on the quality of your steeds. He will be most pleased if I introduce you!"
"Very well. We will seek you out after the parade has ended."
They bowed again, and the other man turned his horse, clacked his tongue, and could be heard laughing as both horses sped to a canter with one great, eager leap.
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Salaam 'alaykum – greetings/formal hello
Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu – "greetings, and the mercy of Gad and his blessings"
Ma'lish – sorry (condolences)
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The Upside – Chapter 3