The Revealing

The noon day sun was cruel. The entire camp wilted under its heat. Tempers were high, the horses were agitated, and water seemed in short supply. Nasir sat in Salah al-Din's tent with the rest of the council. He could barely concentrate for the beads of sweat dripping into his eyes, and the current conversation was extremely dull.

The leader of a local Bedouin tribe was asserting his fighters' usefulness in the taking of Jerusalem. The council learned that the Bedouins had been following the army with hopes of joining the ranks. Salah al-Din was suspicious of small groups who wished to retain their independence from the army but vowed to fight in parallel with it.

"I cannot allow it." Salah al-Din spoke gently. "You must understand. Taking Jerusalem has to be a precise operation."

The Bedouin leader, whose face had been exposed for diplomacy, was clearly agitated. Nasir's boredom soon gave way to concern. He wiped his brow and kept a close eye on the body language of the leader and his companions, who had not entirely revealed their faces. The tension in the tent was rising.

"You don't think we can fight well enough for you." The leader challenged, his eyes narrowed. "You are pompous."

Nasir rose from his chair, hand on his sword. A comment like that would not normally go unpunished. Salah al-Din's eyes flashed but his voice remained calm.

"I do not doubt your abilities. The taking of Jerusalem has been carefully planned. I am certain of its outcome. The difficult part will be to protect the city from the returning Crusaders. There is a place for you and your soldiers in that capacity. Currently we require your patience."

The Bedouin nodded. A sigh of relief traveled like a wave through the tent. The leader rose and motioned for his companions to also rise. Nasir scanned the Bedouins' eyes carefully for he still felt on edge. Could the attack yesterday have been the work of these Bedouins - a display of skill? The attacker certainly had an abundance of proficiency. One by one he discounted them but then he noticed a slender figure standing a little behind all the rest, his eyes downcast. Nasir quickly moved in front of the man.

"Show your face!" he demanded.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Bedouin leader shouted.

"This man attacked me yesterday!" Nasir was incensed. This disheveled group of Bedouins was making a mockery of the greatest army that Islam had ever known. "Show yourself!!"

The soldier stood solidly, his eyes defying Nasir. Nasir looked to the leader, the leader looked to the soldier, and the soldier finally complied. He removed the cloth that covered his nose and mouth. Nasir took a step back.

"A woman?" Mullah Khaled sneered. "A worthy opponent, I'm sure!"

Snickers erupted amongst the council members. But Nasir didn't pay them any attention. His full attention was on the woman; for she was the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

--

Fazia Habib thrived on men's weaknesses. Mullah Khaled's underestimation was one of those weaknesses. She was as fierce as they came. The oldest of five daughters to a father who had prayed for sons, Fazia had set out to prove herself from an early age. She took up weapons as young as five and hid to watch the men train. She emulated their movements as she practiced in secret. At ten she towered over most of the boys her age. She began to rival all the men in her tribe in skill and agility by the time she entered her teens. As she grew, so did her determination and her boldness. Soon she was challenging the trained men to duels and if the men agreed to fight her, she often defeated them.

The leader of the Bedouin army could not afford to ignore Fazia, even though a woman had never fought with them before. She was one of the best fighters he had seen, a welcome addition to his small fighting force. But she had other uses as well. She was statuesque and could easily distract the enemy, if the need arose. She could set a trap so stealthily no one knew the wiser until they were caught in it.

Nasir was quickly becoming ensnared. He was captivated by her green eyes that shone like Peridot gemstones, her soft, moist lips, and her olive skin that glowed in the heat of the afternoon. He could have admired her for hours but he began to detect a low, menacing growl emanating from her throat. Before Nasir could react, Fazia had lunged at him and knocked him to the ground. As he fought to repel her, he was amazed by her strength. It took several of the Sultan's guards to pry her off.

As Nasir stood stunned by the events, his head-wrap askew, Mullah Khaled, wearing a sheepish grin, moved forward to indict the woman.

"Your actions are punishable by the law." He snapped.

Fazia, paying no heed to the Mullah, glared at Nasir and spit at the ground in front of him.

"Will you laugh at me now, you arrogant fool?" She struggled as the guards dragged her from the tent.

--