Chapter 8
The Desert Thief ~ continued from Chapter 7 | A Comedy of Love
Even in the hottest part of the day he still saw the evening fire and heard her voice.
The fire illuminated three faces from the darkness of the great Badiyat Ash Sham. The beautiful young woman wore long triangular earrings that shaped her face while her black hair was cut short. Her headdress sparkled with jewels and she wore a long, purple robe with a hood that covered her neck. Her wrists were adorned with colorful bracelets that shone like a diamond mine.
David’s shoulder-length red hair blew in the wind. Shimea sat beside him carving a piece of wood with a knife.
“Il-ah, our moon, became Allah, the supreme god,” the beautiful girl said. Her bracelets jingled as she moved.
“Il-ah is your moon?” David asked.
“Yes,” she smiled at David. “But I prefer Al-lat or Al-Manat, goddess of the temple.”
“They sound better,” Shimea said.
The beautiful girl bent close to the boys. “My visor says that Allah is the supreme god now.”
She turned away from the caravan as if she had just told a gorgeous secret that would change the world.
“Yes,” said David who was in love.
The two farmers from Bethlehem had never seen a girl such as this. She was on what their mother called “pilgrimage” to the City of Palms.
She looked at the two and laughed gently. She was excited to meet strangers on her caravan, boys who were not like the ones at court but rather naturally charming and innocent.
“Tell us more,” David said. Her every breath was magic and her words flowed like a sweet river.
“Yes,” said Shimea as he stopped his carving.
The firelight brought out the beauty of her dark skin against the purple silk robes she wore.
Behind the beautiful girl stood six large men, bare-chested and each with a scimitar at his waist. They wore purple headdresses and had their arms crossed, watching intently as the night fires burned brightly.
The girl looked behind her at the guards.
“Caravan raids,” she whispered to David. “So we travel under cover of darkness.”
She took her ivory fan and hid her face from sight.
“We would protect you,” David said.
“Of course we would,” Shimea agreed.
All three looked up at the sliver of moon that hung high over the Arabian Peninsula, each wondering what the world held for their young lives. They would not trade this night for any market in the world for they felt alive and believed that at this very moment the secrets of the universe would unfold as gifts for the future.
“We are for Mecca,” the girl whispered. “Once we reach Haram we are safe.”
“Haram?” David asked.
“Twenty miles outside of Ka’bah there is no violence, no one will attack you.”
“We should have Haram,” David laughed.
”Mecca is very important to us spiritually and financially,” she continued. “There are 7,000 prophets buried in the sanctuary in Ka’bah.”
“We should have 7,000 fighting men,” Shimea said.
David nodded.
“You are under our protection now,” she said as she smiled.
The fire crackled and filled the night sky. David’s donkey brayed and spat on the desert sand. The group looked at the beast and laughed. The three would travel together to Mecca over a six-day period.
“Come, eat and drink with us each night,” Sheba said. “But you must learn our lessons as well.”
Sheba smiled her beautiful smile and held her head high, her eyes gleaming in the night. “And who we are descendants of.”
“Quartan,” David replied.
Shimea looked down at the fire. He was a farmer and had no head for this history.
“Good.” She smiled at him.
And so the boys were schooled in the ways of the Arab world by the light of the desert fires.
“A descendant of Noah’s first son, Shem,” David added.
He hoped to never leave this beautiful girl.
“What is a Mukkarib?”
“An officer,” Shimea said.
“No,” Sheba said. “More, please.”
Her bracelets gleamed in the night like a comforting light on a brooding sea.
“A chief,” he tried.
“Priestly kings,” she corrected him. “They ruled South Arabia and Eastern Africa.”
The three sipped sugary sweet tea and continued their desert home school as the fires lit up the vast emptiness that lay behind and before them.
“Now, gentlemen, you both know this.”
Sheba turned and faced them her smile lighting up their small, rough lives.
“What is a full camel load?”
“Close to 500 pounds,” David said. He wanted to remember everything that came from her sweet mouth.
“And how many shekels of silver to pay for safe passage to Mecca?”
“Seven hundred,” David said.
Her eyes smiled at him and he felt the rush of a new beginning throughout his body. His heart soared and his mind raced as he tried to anticipate what question she might ask next. Each answer was his way of saying, “I love you and will die for you. I will protect you for all time and be your servant.”
“So, my little scholars,” Sheba said. “What changed us, what allowed us to prosper and grow?”
“Rain,” Shimea, the farmer, felt sure he knew this answer.
“That allowed us to sustain ourselves, correct,” Sheba said. “But…”
David answered slowly, “The saddle.”
Sheba squeezed David’s hand in the firelight. Her eyes were like saucers of milk and honey that he could drown in and be lost forever. They listened to a pack of wild dogs yelping in the distance as they ran after an oryx, an antelope with twisted horns. The moon was high in the night sky and cast a brilliant light over the great hills and sands that stretched wide and far in all directions.
The night air was cold. David placed a blanket over Sheba’s lovely, flowing silk robes.
“We have plenty more to go over.”
She pulled the blanket close to her.
Shimea had fallen asleep by this time, curled up in his thread- bare blanket. The guards had changed and only three stood watch as the fire burned low.
“Tomorrow.” David kissed Sheba on the cheek.
She rose, took off the blanket and headed for her tent. The guards followed as the dying embers of the fire faded to a smoldering mist.
In his dreams, David saw a long line of dust covering the caravan as the sun beat down on the two brothers.
“David, David,” said Shimea as he pushed David’s shoulder to wake him. “What are we doing?”
David shook his brother off and continued in his dream world.
“David,” Shimea yelled at him again.
The two sat on a cart, their donkey long ago left at the edge of the desert.
“We will go to Mecca,” David said slowly.
“With her. She will show us the way.”
“You are becoming an Arab,” Shimea said.
“We live beside them; we are farmers and shepherds together,” David said. “We must know all we can about them.”
“I am a farmer,” Shimea said. “What do I know of history and names of long-dead prophets.”
“Learn,” David said. He wrapped his keffiyeh tightly around his hair and wiped his smock along his dry mouth and sun- burned face.
Continue reading… Chapter 8 | To The Desert
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