Returning

The soft wind that lifted the hot desert sands carried with it no hint of the events in store for Nasir as he left Jerusalem. The clear, blue sky that illuminated the path northward should have indicated an easy return to camp. But it was not to be. Nasir was weary and as the clash of cold, hard steel rang across the sands, he wondered if his day could get any worse. He had been nearly killed in a duel earlier that day, handed a mediocre horse for pretending to be a slave-guide, and now this.

His opponent was fierce and strong. It appeared to Nasir that this fighter was Bedouin. He was dressed in long robes and his head was wrapped fully so only his eyes were visible. Those eyes flashed like flames trying to escape a fire pit. The Bedouin meant business and Nasir was just barely up to the challenge.

Nasir had been tossed from his horse with a blow that left him reeling. An unattended white stallion had distracted him when the Bedouin had come out of nowhere; a difficult maneuver in the middle of the desert. But Nasir had no time to solve the mystery; he would have to subdue his opponent first.

Their blades came together repeatedly. The fighters groaned and gnashed their teeth. Nasir was tiring of the business that was keeping him from returning to camp, to a warm bath, and a soft bed. God! I wish he would just go back from wherever he came! As the Bedouin's sword came down from above, Nasir used his own as a shield. The fighters were within inches of one another and Nasir took this opportunity to knock his opponent to the ground. The Bedouin rolled and crouched like a wild cat. Nasir moved toward him but paused as a high pitched shriek surged from the Bedouin's mouth. Before Nasir knew what was happening, the determined fighter had mounted the white stallion and sped off across the desert. The circling dust hung around horse and rider like a cloak.

"Coward! We're not finished!!" Nasir shouted as he ran after them. The adrenaline that surged through his body was not allowing him to think clearly. When it finally became apparent to Nasir that his legs were no match for a stallion's, he dropped his sword and bent with his hands on his knees. What am I doing? He's gone and I can go back to camp. Nasir tiredly mounted the Christian's horse and, as he turned about, his eye caught the form of a burlap blanket lying in the sand nearby. So that's where the Bedouin was hiding. But how did he know I was coming? Nasir looked to the sky as the sun dipped close to the horizon. "Please Allah, lay me an easy path."

--

The Saracen camp stretched across the valley, its thousands of tents blooming from the arid ground on which they stood. To Nasir it was a beautiful sight. His fellow soldiers bustled about, readying themselves for the oncoming darkness. Smoke from cook fires billowed up toward the hilltops creating a red haze in the setting sun. The smells of cooked meat teased Nasir's nostrils as he sat on the horse admiring the view. When he could no longer ignore the ache in his empty belly, he steered the horse steadily down the hillside.

Nasir's first stop had to be his Master's tent. Salah al-Din would want to know that he had returned. As he entered the tent his heart sank. Mullah Khaled was already inside and he and Salah al-Din were exchanging unpleasant looks. The Mullah had a talent for angering the Sultan. Nasir immediately wished he had stopped for a bite to eat first. His irritability would not be a good quality in this situation.

"I will hold you to that." The Mullah spoke with a threatening tone. Nasir, who had taken his place slightly behind the Mullah, rolled his eyes. Clearly his master had promised something. This was a dangerous move for Khaled had a memory like a steel trap. Even though Salah al-Din always kept his word, he tended to make flippant promises to the Mullah to bring a hasty end to their meeting.

"Good night, Mullah." The Sultan's dismissal was abrupt and forceful. The Mullah turned to leave and glared at Nasir on the way by. Nasir wanted to grab him in a head lock but resisted the temptation and instead glared back. His eyes followed the Mullah until he disappeared through the tent flaps and then Nasir turned to his Master.

Salah al-Din was obviously not in the mood for talking but looked relieved by Nasir's presence.

"Join me, my friend." The Sultan pointed to the chairs at his dinner table. When the two were seated and their plates filled by the slaves he looked to Nasir. "Any news?"

"Nothing of any significance." Nasir dared not complain about his day as the Sultan appeared tired and had his own problems to bear. The two sat in silence, enjoying their dinner and each other's company.

Soon the night would bring silence to the camp. Nasir would need his rest to deal with the surprises in store for him over the next few days.

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