GOODBYE TO LOVE
Author's Note and Disclaimer: The funeral rituals described in this chapter are not specific to any one group of people or any one religion. Various visual and historical cues from many religious beliefs have been incorporated, including those from Egyptian and Greek mythology as well as heavy usage of author improvisation. Any similarity to any one religious practice is purely coincidental. Basically, most of the ritual utilized herein is wholeheartedly fictional. NO infringement intended. NO offense intended. Thanks!
"Ash?"
Startled, Ash turned toward the voice, realizing it was Faras. He stood in the opening of the tent, his stance quite tentative. He had long since discarded the heavy robes he had worn during the trip across the desert. His tunic was deep blue, adorned by intricate golden hued designs at the collar and sleeve. Outfitted as he was, he didn't appear as serious or threatening. Like Ardeth, in his home element, he was able to leave the violence behind, to show the real man behind the menace. His dark brown eyes were filled with concern, but also deep respectfulness. These men were what Ash believed were true men.
"I am sorry to disturb you," he said quietly.
With one last glance back at her sister, she came up slowly to her feet and faced him. "It's okay. Ardeth told me you would come."
He approached her where she stood. "The focus has been solely on Ardeth and his grief. No one has forgotten you or your parents. However, I do believe that few words of comfort have come your way. I am very sorry for your loss. We barely know each other, but I feel a kinship to you and your family. You might not be Medjai by blood. You are at heart."
She managed to smile through her tears. At any other moment, at any other time, she might have thought he was trying to impress her with his sensitivity, but it was apparent that Faras bin Saiyid had not one manipulative or fake bone in his body. "Thank you, Faras."
He presented his arm. "May I escort you to your tent?"
Ash nodded. "Yes, I would like that very much."
Having awakened almost an hour after he had fallen asleep, Ardeth watched from his vantage point as Faras led Rimâd toward her guest tent. He watched them until they disappeared from view. He noticed how well they got on. Admittedly, when he chose Faras as Rimâd's charge, he didn't believe they would find an easy camaraderie. He could see in Faras' eyes and demeanor in the beginning that he hadn't expected it, either. It appeared to be a pleasant trade off. Faras wasn't only following orders; he was trying to befriend her. Yes, he had pawned off his silfa, but her distraction would never keep her silent. She simply wasn't built that way. Perhaps he didn't want her to remain silent. Perhaps he wanted her to speak her mind. He wondered if he wasn't trying to find a reason to keep the animosity alive. For the life of him, he didn't understand why that was the case.
Ardeth turned his back on the guest tents behind him and began a slow, plodding walk toward the tent where his Liliana had begun her eternal slumber. Tonight would be the last night he would spend with her until his soul joined hers. He clearly understood that he had not come to terms with her loss even after seeing her body lying in state. He was not an unreasonable man. He was not thick headed. Yet, since his wife's light was put out, he had begun to recognize several new facets of his personality that he didn't like or ones he could ever understand. Perhaps one day he would. Perhaps not.
Quietly, he entered the tent, gazing down at Liliana. Many times he had heard people comment how the dead looked peaceful, as if they were sleeping. He often scoffed at that. He had seen death, had dealt it hundreds of times over. To him, the consummate warrior, death was never peaceful. As he gazed at his wife, he realized that all the clichés he had heard made sense now. Liliana was at peace; she was like a sleeping angel. She had maintained her dignity, even in death.
He sat close to her and reached out to touch her hand. The women who had attended her left her hair loose and free, attaching a gauzy veil to her head. Although she was wearing her wedding caftan, the veil was different. It looked like a fine black mist. It would disturb the illusion of peace, but he could not prevent himself from moving his hand from hers to allow it to touch her hair. Her silky mane had always intrigued him. He had never seen anyone with such beautiful hair as she. Black as ebony. When he learned she was with child, he prayed their son or daughter would have her spirit. She had wanted a son like him, but he longed for a daughter for whom he could dote endlessly upon. They had planned to name their daughter after Liliana's mother, their son after their fathers. They wanted to fill their lives with the sound of many happy, loving children. They had planned to have a long life together. They had planned on so much, never knowing how little time they actually had. No couple, be they young or old, gave much thought as to their partner dying or leaving them.
He didn't realize he was crying until a tear hit his hand. Although a sensitive and caring man, he didn't shed tears often. He had never regarded it as a sign of weakness, but it tended to show unwanted vulnerability. Right now, he was the most vulnerable he had ever been in his life. Many women had touched his heart, but Liliana was the first to consume it. Their courtship was long and sweet, their marriage contract had fallen through a few times along the way, but he had never doubted she would become his wife. He did not know how he would live without her. He was a brave man, but as he touched his wife's hair, he felt his bravery slipping away. Each day dawned new fear, fear that he had failed Liliana, fear that he would die before he exacted revenge, fear he would never love again. It was not just for someone so innocent to lose her life. Liliana had no dealings with the Kashfi Narrows or their inhabitants. All she had done was marry the Chieftain.
The hour was growing late. In a few hours time, Liliana would make her final journey. He would have to be ready to face his people and the Hardings. He was ill prepared for both. Ardeth knew he should go back to his tent to make an attempt to sleep, but he couldn't move. He couldn't leave her side. Tonight was his last night with her until he joined her. He wanted to be with her as long as he was allowed.
Faras stood outside Ash's guest tent as she made her way inside. Before she moved out of his sight, she turned to face him. "I'm not ready to go to sleep yet. I have a lot on my mind," she said. "Will you stay for a minute and talk to me?"
He hesitated, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. What would her parents say if they knew he was in her tent at such a late hour? What would Ardeth say? It wasn't as if he was courting her...not at the moment...so strict rules didn't apply to them. For the sake of all that was holy, they were adults. What harm would it truly cause? "Aiwa," he finally said. "I can stay for a bit."
Together, they entered the tent. It was dimly lit with only one lamp. He watched as she approached her pallet and sat upon it with her legs crossed before her. He did not think it proper to sit with her on her bed. Instead, he chose to sit at a small table located near it. Out of her traveling clothes now, Ash looked very vulnerable and young, like the child she had once been.
"I want to know more about Kashfi Narrows," Ash said suddenly. "Why do these killers call it home?"
Faras remembered the first time his father had spoken of the Narrows. The story had fascinated him as a boy, but he didn't have any respect for it until he learned the hard way that everything his father had spoken was the truth. Legend or no, the Medjai didn't scoff at the treachery of the place. "Their ancestors were those who murdered the Kashfi family," Faras explained. "It might sound foolish or superstitious, but we believe the poison embedded within the sand attracts them. It calls to them like a mother searching for her child. Their history is written in bloodshed. The man who took the life of your sister and that of our ikhwe has a direct link to the man who led the attack on the Kashfis."
"But why, Faras? Why attack for no reason?"
She had asked a question that did not have an answer. Why was anyone evil? How did one choose or become good or evil? Her question was that of a child. Yet, he had to remember she was not raised in the Medjai way. Of course, she wouldn't understand how they lived their lives or the reason they did what they had to do to protect the secrets of the desert. "For many reasons, I assume," he began. "From greed to a lust for power. Evil has no bounds, often no explanation. It is much like your world, I am sure."
His words were reasonable, but not to her grieving mind. Ash pointed her finger toward the opening of the tent, the motion looked violent and stabbing. "Why would he allow anyone to travel through there?"
Her eyes were flashing, and hurt was written clearly in them. She was once again angry with Ardeth. "You cannot blame Ardeth for things beyond his control. Think about what it is you are saying. By the same token, he could blame your family."
It hurt to hear him say that. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was true. She was mad at Ardeth, but also mad at herself as well. Liliana had traveled to America not at Ardeth's behest. She had come there at the request of her family. She buried her face into her hands and began to sob. Uncaring as to what was proper behavior, Faras went to her and gathered her in his arms. Unknown to him, he expected her to pull away or be unyielding, but that wasn't the case. She clung to him solidly, throwing her body against his. It wasn't an act of desperation. It was one of deep grief. Grief he had no way of understanding. Her face was fevered against the soft fabric of his tunic. Her tears were bitter, more than sad. He didn't have a word in his vocabulary to describe them. He had experienced grief before in his life, but nothing like this. He wished he could do more for her. He was limited and he definitely didn't like feeling that way. Faras tightened his grip on her body, holding her as closely and as securely as he could.
"Ash," Faras whispered harshly. "Liliana's death was the fault of only one man. I vow to you that we will make him pay. I vow it to you this night."
Morning came all too soon for the grieving family of one Liliana Harding-Bay. Several warriors on guard had seen Ardeth exiting Liliana's tent during the wee hours of the morning. He had not given any specific orders to the men, but they deferred to Faras. They were to keep watch at the fringes of the village and warn the entire tribe of any suspicious activity. The village wasn't next door to the Narrows, but it was close enough to invite many unwanted gangs. They were more likely to strike while the family was distracted. They gave a respectful distance to their Chieftain as they left to take their posts for much of the day.
Those in mourning gathered for a light breakfast in the tent of the head elder, who as Ash learned later, was also their religious leader. No one touched much of the food laden onto their plates. There was little conversation. Ash sat toward the end of the table with a plate of fruit before her. Periodically, she eyed Ardeth, who was dressed in ceremonial robes and a cape a deep shade of navy blue. Inside the tent, it almost looked black. The robe and cape he wore at his wedding had ornate designs as much as their tunics, but today, there was nothing. Ash understood. Celebrations were colorful, showy, but tragedy was muted. As it should be. Each of them had been outfitted in traditional Medjai garb. The women wore caftans and veils. Danforth was in similar clothing as Ardeth. Although Ardeth wasn't aware and didn't exactly have the fortitude to notice, Ash didn't mind. Everything today was dictated by her sister. She would do anything for Liliana.
After the family consumed very little of their breakfast, they gathered in the center of the village. Ash noticed hundreds of Medjai villagers gathered around, standing in a circle, but also at a respectful distance. In the middle of the perfect circle of mourners was a platform built at least six feet high. Against it, there was a short ladder leading up to it. Atop the platform lay Liliana's body, at rest upon an ornate slab carved from reddish Egyptian sandstone. Beside her sat a small vase filled with delicate blue lotus flowers. Liliana was not yet in her burial shroud. That would come later, after the Gods accepted her soul.
Before Ash could move from her father's side, a deep voice nearby began reciting a traditional Arabic prayer. It was done by the elder who hosted the family earlier this morning. He spoke with great passion, as if he had loved and had known Liliana well. She couldn't make out everything he said, but whatever it was, it had brought tears to Ardeth's eyes. He stood firm and stoic, his jaws clinched tightly. Yet, his grief was numbing, overwhelming. At any moment, she expected him to cry out, to protest the abrupt end of Liliana's life. For all she had against Ardeth, Ash suddenly felt very stupid to have those emotions rushing through her. He had clearly loved her sister; he had clearly given her the life she had asked for and wanted.
When the elder finished speaking, Ardeth moved forward toward the platform. He stepped up on the ladder leading up to her body and climbed the short distance. Once at her side, he took a flower from the nearby vase and laid it perfectly between her hands. He placed a kiss upon her forehead and spoke to her softly, his words meant only for his dead wife. Ash watched in silence, unable to comprehend what was truly happening. For the first time since she had heard of her sister's death, she finally understood the finality of it all. At the same time, she didn't want to accept it.
Ardeth climbed down, faced the Hardings, and nodded his head very slightly. Before Ash could question her father, he took her by the arm and led her to the platform. One by one, they climbed the ladder to give Liliana a single blue lotus flower. One by one, they were allowed to say goodbye. When it came to be Ash's turn, she didn't know if she could bid farewell to her older sister. This wasn't right. None of it. She wanted to open her mouth and begin protesting, but the only thing that came out was one wretched, tortured sob. She couldn't manage to place the flower onto her sister's body. Almost instantly, someone was behind her, holding her hand. She was startled to realize it was Ardeth.
"Zemân li qâl ma'assalama," Ardeth whispered.
She didn't understand every word, only knew that ma'assalama meant goodbye. "No," she whispered back. "I can't."
"Aiwa, Ashlyn, iHna 'lâzim."
Grasping her hand solidly, he extended it toward Liliana's body. Slowly, Ash released her hold on the flower. It drifted down onto her chest, nearly coming to rest on the flower Ardeth had first placed there. When it was done, Ardeth led Ash to the small ladder, helping her down, following closely behind. They both joined the elder Hardings, grasping hands to say one final prayer before Liliana was shrouded and taken to the crypt. They dispersed shortly thereafter as her shrouding was to be a private ceremony, performed by the head elder. Ash wanted to remain, wanted to stay with her sister, but her parents and Ardeth were persistent, leading her away from the circle as the villagers prayed in their wake.
Later, Ash wandered away from her family to be alone. With the main ceremony over, her parents had followed Ardeth back to the tent of the head elder where they were to bless the soul of Liliana with bread and wine. Ash was done with prayer for the time being. No one protested when she said she wanted to be by herself. Of course, being alone wasn't allowed, not completely. Her assigned warrior was not far. She didn't mind Faras' company, but she wasn't happy about having someone watching her every move while they were here.
Faras guided her to a shallow pond surrounded by green grass and tall trees. He called the area an 'oasis,' telling her that it enticed many people to come here where they sometimes bathed in the cool water. Ash wasn't interested in bathing. It was simply an area that was well shaded. Here, the heat wasn't so oppressive. She thought about nothing, only focused on the rippling pond. She turned her head slightly to see Faras waiting quietly with the horses they had ridden out. She motioned for him to join her.
As soon as Faras drew close to Ash, he asked, "Are you ready to leave?"
She shook her head. "No, not yet. I'm just tired of sitting alone. Please sit."
Without hesitation, he sat beside her, bringing his long legs up close to his body. He had donned similar robes as the other men, but his were black. His wavy hair billowed in the light afternoon breeze.
"Faras, how well did you know my sister," she asked, taking a sideways glance at him. Stupidly, she noticed a scar on this cheek, almost hidden by his beard. For no reason at all, she wanted to touch it.
He met her gaze. "I knew her well. She was a wonderful person, well matched to Ardeth."
She nodded vaguely and focused her eyes once again on the water. "Her ceremony was incredible. I have never experienced anything like it."
"It is the Medjai way," he explained. "Your sister grasped our ways and held them to her heart."
"I can see she did," she said quietly. She looked at Faras again. "I don't know how I feel about a lot of things yet, but I want to understand her life. I want to know everything. I simply don't know how to go about it. I'm making no sense, I know."
Faras smiled. He wondered if he should dare touch her hair. She was so beautiful, so very vulnerable. He would never take advantage of her, but to touch her was so very tempting. "Ash, I do not think much is supposed to make sense right now. While you are here, please make this your second home. Whatever you wish to learn, call upon me to teach you."
"Thank you Faras, you're sweet."
Losing his battle against restraint, Faras reached out and caressed her hair, running his fingers through it slowly, luxuriantly. "Miss Harding, you are the sweet one."
His touch sent little shivers down her spine. It was very hot out today, but suddenly her arms broke out in scores of gooseflesh. She felt the heat racing through her body, pinking her cheeks, and forcing her heart to pound crazily in her chest.
"Would it be too forward of me to kiss you," he asked softly.
"No, not if I want you to."
His lips met hers softly, his tongue tracing a gentle outline on her lips, asking for acceptance inside her lovely mouth. She willingly obliged, tasting the sweetness of him, touching his gently probing tongue with her own.
"Faras!"
They broke apart suddenly, as if caught skinny dipping in the pool. He stood to attention immediately, recognizing the harsh bark of Ardeth's voice. Ash was slower, but nevertheless as shaken as Faras was. She stood up slowly, glancing at her brother in-law shamefacedly.
"Ashlyn, your parents wish to see you," Ardeth said, all the while his eyes were completely focused on Faras' face. She nodded without comment and made her way back toward the horse awaiting her. Once he thought she was out of earshot, he growled toward his Second, "I will speak to you about this later."
Ash heard Ardeth's admonishment. She turned to face the two men. "I am a grown woman, Ardeth. You will say nothing to him," she said shortly.
Ardeth turned his dark gaze toward Ash. "The way I deal with the warriors under my command has little to do with you. Do not make my business your own."
"Nor mine yours, brother in-law," Ash snapped back.
"Ra'îs," Faras began. "I am…"
"Don't you apologize to him! It's none of his business what I do."
Fuming, Ardeth longed to say something to her, but his spirit was dampened. She would not make life easy while she was here. This was total and complete proof of that.
Translations:
Rimâd—Ash
Silfa—Sister in-law
Aiwa—Yes
Ikhwe—Brothers
Zemân li qâl ma'assalama—Time to say goodbye
IHna 'lâzim—We must
Ra'îs—Chief(tain)
To be continued…
