AN- Happy Belated Thanksgiving. I hope your day was filled with family, friends and words of thanks.
I know many of you love this story and I am sorry the updates have been far and few between. Words for me are in short supply these days and I'm not sure how to counteract the problem. However, after conferring with a fellow writer, I've decided to take her advice and upload smaller chapters instead of one long chapter I can't seem to complete. With a bit of luck, this less ambitious approach will result in more frequent updates.
Desert Princess
Chapter 25
Excerpt from Chapter 24
Mellie bint Jahsh I divorce you. No!" Mellie screams.
"Mellie bint Jahsh I divorce you." Mellie sobs, throwing her body unto the middle of judgment table.
"Mellie bint Jahsh I divorce you! I sever my bond with you before god and man. You will face tribunal for your misdeeds alone as a foreigner, an interloper."
With her torso sprawled across the judgment table Mellie slowly slumps down from the table unto her knees in tears.
"Elders, do you bear witness to the breaking of my marriage covenant with Mellie bint Jahsh ?
"We so bear."
"So let it be written, so let it be done."
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Ashes to Ashes Dust to Dust
He divorced me. He divorced me without an inkling of hesitation. What have I done to deserve this? My life is over. I have no husband, no home, no title; I am an outcast. Preoccupied with thinking about the dire consequences of her divorce, Mellie misses Fitz motioning to Tirdad to take the marriage knot and diadem to the fire pit. Tirdad picks up the boxes from the table, carrying them as an offering as he walks over to the fire pit. When he reaches the fire pit he waits for Fitz's instruction. Fitz, his hand positioned on the armrest of his chair, points to the fire with his index finger without lifting his hand and nods. Tirdad opens the first box and tosses the knot into the fire. The gallery gasps and the sound of the collective pulls Mellie from her thoughts. She looks up in time to see the multicolored band of rope turn into twisted black threads, then gray ash. Tirdad opens the second box, removes the diadem and tosses it in next. The gemstones blister and pop and the gold frame melts, mixing with the knot ash. Fitz nods again and Tirdad throws the boxes into the fire as well. Mellie cries out at the finality of the act. The symbols of her former life are gone, reduced to a pile of ash and an easily forgotten memory.
A well-timed unseasonal wind blows across the assembly swallowing the smoke from the fire, carrying it away to a destination unknown. The symbolism of the breeze is not lost on those present, including Mellie.
The hot desert air fills Mellie's lungs and blankets her body in a tortuous heat, an inescapable desert heat. The type of heat that makes one peel off layer after layer of clothing until they stand bare. The problem is removing all of one's clothes leaves one completely exposed bearing the full brunt of the sun's intense heat. Fitz has left Mellie bare. He actually did it. He stripped her of her symbolic protective marriage garments and left her to face the heat of judgment out in the open, naked as her true self.
She sits on her knees in front of the judgment table stunned. Shaking her head in disbelief, she covers her nose and mouth in a prayer-like manner with her wrist tied hands. He did it. He actually did it; he divorced me. Her hands drop to her lap in abject resignation. She peers over the top of the judgment table at Fitz expecting to see a look of disdain or at best regret but is surprised to find an expression of relief. No, something more than relief, it is the look of freedom. The stern glower shown moments earlier has given way to the peaceful gaze of a man no longer tied to a woman he does not love. Harsh reality sets in on Mellie.
Mellie lowers her head to avoid the gawking stares of the tribal assembly. Her mind is awash with all manner of hateful, confused and desperate thought. Adrenaline and fear course through her veins quickening her heartbeat and heightening her already chaotic emotions. Fighting for her every breath, she's on the verge of hyperventilating from the stress. Her edgy emotions threaten to seep through the very pores of her prickling skin and explode with the force of a lightning bolt. Mellie wants to scream, kick, bite, punch and runaway all at the same time. Disbelief screams, "this is not happening" in one ear and reality whispers "justice will have its due" in the other ear.
Ahmed takes Mellie by the arm to help her stand. He escorts her back to where the prisoners are sitting. Olivia casts a sympathetic eye at her former sister-wife. The lump in Mellie's throat and the pit in her stomach disappear in an instant, replaced by the bitter gall of resentment.
"Save your pity", she spits under her breath. "He will tire of you too one day".
Mellie's pride will not allow her entertain the thought that her fate is the result of her narcissistic choices. Her sense of reality is becoming more and more skewed to the completely irrational. To cope with the imminent exposure of her many transgressions and her looming punishment, she mentally shifts the source of her woes to the people she used, abused and misled. Olivia, Fitz, Mousef, anyone and everyone is to blame for her misfortune in her mind.
Mousef and the others look at Mellie with smug grins on their faces as she returns to sit on the prisoner mat. Dalal is truly my only comrade in arms now for our fates are certain. Mousef and his volt of vultures will surely sacrifice me and Dalal to save their cowardly souls. He is a fool if he thinks a lighter hand will mete out his penalty for the half-truths he will tell. Where my fate falls, so shall all. No one shall leave this place unscathed. The moment Mellie thinks her last thought an implausible idea pops into her head. Forgetting Fitz is aware of some of her misdeeds and the fact he tried to snap her neck, Mellie crazily reasons Dalal is the key to her avoiding her rightful punishment and keeping her head. Looking straight ahead to avert drawing attention, she grasps Dalal's hand and whispers in a cunningly sweet tone her execrable scheme.
"My sister your fate is assured for Amira Olivia will have her vengeance. Her sultry way bewitches the Amir and he will do her bidding to remain in comfort between her luring legs. We are kindred, united in our sorrow and legacy of tears. Think wisely in this hour for you have the chance with your final breath to bring Mousef and Sultan Doyle to their knees. Give no sure testimony to my dealings with Mousef and I may yet live to avenge your unjust ruin. I will add my worthy words to yours, bring death to Mousef, and ignite the embers of war against the Sultan. Your noble sacrifice will bring meaning and purpose to our lives of unjust baneful misery".
Dalal stares at Mellie with incredulity. How did she not see it before? Mellie, Mousef, and the Sultan, they are all cut from the same selfish cloth. Dalal realizes she is the thread that holds their cloth together. Her actions have made her a frayed edge. She is now the loose string by which all will unravel. Noble sacrifice? United in sorrow? Legacy of tears? Mellie is indeed clever of tongue and wicked in heart. Truth never passes her lips for one touch of her perverse tongue turns every word spoken into a lie. Mellie's lack of remorse and commitment to self-preservation strengthens Dalal's resolve. Yes, Mellie I will give sure testimony, I will make the noble sacrifice and with my last breath, I will bring to justice those who have wronged me, including you. I will honor the vow I made in the prisoner tent after capture. I will make the noble sacrifice, my own noble sacrifice. I will go to the next realm with bloodstained hands but a clean heart.
Dalal turns to Mellie donning a smile that confuses her. Is she in unity? Mellie is about to say more when Tirdad tells her to be quiet.
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Start With The Truth
Fitz stands to address his people.
"Outsiders have come among us not to seek our friendship but to harm us. They attacked us, tried to steal from us and to kill us. I have no doubt much will be revealed in the days ahead that will rile us to the point of wanting swift vengeance, but such retribution will not happen. Our tribe is a tribe of fairness and justice. We will listen to the claims and pleas of the accused without closed minds, for all dark purposes must be uncovered and brought into the light for justice to prevail". Fitz glances over at his family who nod in agreement.
"I am the arbiter, my decisions will be final and my decrees carried out without question. I ask you pray God grant me wisdom and insight to judge fairly, impartially and to render just punishments". The elders cast a stern eye at the prisoners before conceding their accord to Fitz.
"Those who stand accused woe unto you if you choose a perverse tongue over an honest repentant heart. God brought you to this place of judgment; he will not let the breadth of your evil works to remain hidden. Give careful thought to how you plan to enter the next realm. Will you go forward an unburdened soul, contrite of heart and hopeful God will be merciful in his eternal judgment of you, or will you stand a defiant fool, insolent to the end, mocking righteousness and truth? The choice is yours". Fitz gestures to the scribe on his right who rises and addresses the prisoners.
"Prisoners make ready to give answer to the charges against you". Fitz calls for Dalal to be brought forward.
Tirdad yanks Dalal up by the arm. Standing knock-kneed, she takes a step, trips on the hem of her garment, and lands on her hands and knees on the scorching sand. Tirdad quickly helps her up. She steadies herself and brushes away the hot sand granules using the front of her garment. Tirdad firmly holds her arm as he hauls her toward the judgment table. An invisible stone necklace of guilt weighs heavy around Dalal's neck, forcing her to keep her head down in shame and remorse as she shuffles to her much deserved inevitable death. When they near the table Tirdad roughly pushes Dalal forward causing her to stumble against the table. Bracing herself along the edge of the wooden flattop she regains her balance and rights herself. Looking down at the table she sees traces of blood and the unmistakable hack marks from a sword. She shudders knowing soon a new hack mark filled with her shed blood will be added to the judgment table's history.
Fitz's words and her vow replay in a loop in her head. Her fate is sealed there is no way to escape. Examination is merely a formality for the benefit of those present. Murder, attempted or accomplished, carries no possibility of reprieve. Her only hope now is that confession will bring peace to her mind and soul, for maggots and the grave will attend to the body she used to do evil. Closing her eyes she prays the flames of Hades will burn her soul into nothing. It is a false hope but a hope nonetheless. Thinking about the alternative is too horrible. An eternity of torment after a life of subjugation and pain is more than she can bear. No, if God is kind he will let her disappear into the void of nonexistence as reward for her sacrifice of truth.
She stands at the table fidgeting, awaiting interrogation and judgment for acts she committed to remain alive. Making the right of choice was never an option for her. If she refused Mellie's request, Mellie would have gone ahead with putting the snake basket in Olivia's tent and blamed her for it. Or Mellie could have told Mousef she was refusing to help her and Mousef would have killed her. She couldn't run away. Where would she go? She had no money, no family or friends. Either way Dalal had no choice, killing Olivia willingly or unwillingly, her refusal would have meant certain death. Dalal realizes no one in this world will miss her unless she stands for something. Her death must have meaning.
The scribe takes his seat on the ground to the right of Fitz. He dips his implement into the ink bowl. He writes down the month and year, then waits for Fitz to begin questioning the prisoner.
Fitz clears his throat, grips the arm of his chair and speaks in a commanding tone.
"Ajooza maa ismuka?" (woman what is your name)
"Ismee Dalal bint Yasmine". (my name is Dalal daughter of Yasmine) She says choking back tears, her head still hung in shame.
Fitz wants to look into the eyes of the scarfed assassin. "Face me", he orders. Dalal slowly lifts her head. Her remorse will not allow her to look Fitz directly in the eyes, instead she focuses on the upper trim on his arbiter robe.
"Woman of deception your meek demeanor has no place here. I have no patience for your act of shyness. In the brightness of day, you wielded your basket of death with boldness, do not shirk now in the light of judgment for it is unbecoming and pointless. Tears and a soft voice will not erase your crime or sway my judgment. You, me and everyone here know of your evil. Today you would do well to forgo seeking sympathy, speak the truth and seek God's mercy for your time in this realm will not tarry beyond the quarter moon".
She nods her head vigorously in agreement, repeating her name more loudly.
"Min ayn anti?" (where are you from)
"La a'ref,(I don't know) she mumbles, because she has no idea where she is from. Her mother sold her to Mousef when she was a child.
"Maa?" (what) Fitz asks.
"Haitham", she says this time.
Fitz taps his fingers on the armrest of his chair, he stares at Dalal intensely as he gathers his thoughts.
"Ajooza, there is no question you came to this tribe with deception in your heart and plans of doing harm, the question is why?"
Dalal stares at the sand beneath her watching two beetles struggle over a wasp carcass. She smiles at the fitting irony of the scene, for likewise two forces, one good one evil, wrestle for her walking carcass.
"Ajooza do you find my question amusing? Do you consider your plight of minor concern?"
Never raising her head, Dalal summons the courage to apologize and tell the truth that will free her conscience and warn the independents of the battle ahead.
"No Amir. My chagrin is born from accepting my bleak fortune. I have lived a life of forced servitude, it is only at this moment, with my death all but done will truth pass through my lips and freedom's song sing in my heart."
Listening attentively to Dalal's responses a wily smile creeps across Mellie's face. I may yet sojourn with my head intact after all.
"It is wise in your final hours you partner with truth. This freedom you speak of is between your soul and god for your mortal body will not escape punishment for your transgressions are great. Let verity guide your answer, say what must be said before god and this company".
Dalal wipes the beading sweat from her brow with her forearm. The air around her feels full of anticipation and simmering hostility. She glances back at the other prisoners searching one last time to find some infinitesimal kernel of something redeemable or remorseful in them. Sadly, she sighs, seeing nothing save looks intimidation from the men and smug confidence from Mellie.
"You were welcomed into this tribe with open arms only to betray our trust and try to kill Amira Olivia. Tell this assembly what possessed you to do such a wicked thing. Name your conspirators as well or I will have you struck down before you have a chance to unburden yourself before God".
Olivia sensing her husband's rising anger grabs Raheel's hand, who in turn grabs Elise's hand, who takes Rachel's hand and together they softly pray for Fitz. The elders look on nodding approvingly at the women. "The Amir has chosen well", one elder whispers.
"I was sent to keep an eye on Amira Mellie by Mousef".
Fitz stops tapping his fingers on the armrest. Mellie smiles to herself, convinced Dalal is going through with her plan. Mousef glares at Mellie. He knows she has coerced Dalal in some way to implicate him in the attack on Amira Olivia.
"Why does Mousef want to keep an eye on Mellie?"
Dalal hesitates briefly. It was now or never. Tell the truth, maybe avoid the fiery abyss or say nothing and suffer a torturous death and eternity of torment. She raises her head without fear for the first in her life. Knowing she is going to die brings a strength and power that breaks the perpetual hold fear has had on her life.
"Mousef wanted to make sure she killed Kazul and Hajar and gathered the information he needed".
A murmur sweeps across the assembly. Mousef and the other men slowly gnash their teeth while Mellie quietly delights in watching their growing fear.
"Why kill Kazul and Hajar?"
Everyone in the assembly turns to stare at Mellie and Mousef. Mellie twitches her lips and manages to force a tear out of one eye. She covers her face with her bound hands feigning shame.
"To make sure they did not reveal his secret?"
Mousef starts to squirm. The other prisoners pull at the collars of their tunics and look at their leader in distress.
Fitz leans forward in his chair. "What secret? What kind of information? Gather information for what purpose?"
Dalal pauses again before answering. There is no retreat now, she has set truth's wheel in motion, treading on her cadre's road of lies. She can feel the dagger eyed glares of her co-conspirators and hear their curse-laden whispers. She now stands alone in her hollow of penitence. None will join her, none will support her, all will hate her, for her wheel of truth will crush them all. She has taken the role of arbiter by her confession, deciding their fate without consult.
"Answer!" Fitz demands?
"The secret that Mellie is as I am, a woman of bond without right or worth, obligated to do his bidding," she blurts out.
"This is falsehood you speak. I met Mellie's parents, they are neither bond nor slave", Fitz bellows. "I received her dowry in exchange for a vow of marriage. A woman in servitude could not meet this tradition".
"No my Amir, Mellie is in true bond".
"What can you offer as proof of this unbelievable claim?" Fitz queries, his voice full of irritated skepticism.
Dalal squares her shoulders, "She bears her owners brand on her arm".
"Ajooza, hear me, the loss of your head is at hand for this outrageous lie. Has the desert sun affected your memory? Mellie was my wife, I held her in my arms, she bears no man's branding". Fitz waves to the jondi with the execution scimitar forward.
Dalal falls to her knees, head down. "Forgive me Amir, may I humbly ask the last time you saw Mellie's arms? For she received her mark of bond a few weeks ago".
Fitz leans back in his chair realizing he has not shared a bed with Mellie since a few months before Olivia came.
"How did Mellie come to be in bond to Mousef?" Fitz asks, his tone tempered and his voice softened by resignation. Where will Mellie's trail of deceit end?
"She is not in bond to Mousef my Amir, she is in bond to Mousef's employer, Sultan Doyle. We are all in service to the Sultan. Mousef keeps all of our scrolls conscription in a locked chest in his room at the inn in town".
Mellie's hands drop from her face. Her scripted whimpering immediately ceases. Glaring at Dalal, Mellie curses her under her breath, and rips the cuff seam of her sleeve in anger. Betrayed! Betrayed again! Betrayed by her chosen ally.
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So there you have it. Dalal threw everyone under the ox cart. Mellie thought she could con her into taking the fall and Mousef and his men thought giving her the evil eye would intimidate her.
Dalal knows she is a dead woman walking, she has nothing to lose. All she wants is to get right with god and have her life account for some measure of good.
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Dear Readers please know you have my deepest thanks and appreciation for your continued support and reviews. Look for the next chapter in a few days.
Until next time, I wish you a happy and blessed holiday season.
