Chapter 1
Out of Edum
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(Part I)
An hour after the rising of the sun a great cloud of dust was seen climbing in the depths of Wadi Musa, the sand and earth flashing gold and orange where it caught the young light. As the fiery column neared dark shapes at its base resolved themselves into six figures, riders atop richly saddled camels, messengers out of Rekem* no doubt bearing words from the Malek*, Malka Qênu. In preparation for their arrival Mun'at Ha'Qadri ordered his men to prepare bread and meat, and fetch wine as well, and bring the feast to his tent. The riders were near already, but the final descent into Wadi Araba was choked with broad fields of shattered flint and basalt, sharp going over ground already too warm for a camel's soft feet. The party would have to pick their way through carefully, following the dry rivulets of last winter's rain where the cooler ground below had been exposed, giving Mun'at ample time to prepare for their arrival.
He turned his back on the dusty column and began threading his way to the center of the camp where his tent lay. Here in the shelter of the valley walls and the protection of friendly territory he could have indulged himself and set his lodgings apart from the men, but such luxuries would too surely bring future risks. Out in the desert wastes a man could not afford privacy and the thickness of canvas provided the only solitude to be had. Mun'at Ha'Qadri knew that a commander who set himself apart would earn only distrust and baser suspicions besides, all dangerous sentiments to foster in fighting men at world's end, and so he placed his abode at the center of their small camp and left the outer flap always open.
As he stepped inside he inspected the space where he would receive the king's messengers. Unadorned yet princely rugs lay artfully scattered in a circle, the center of which had been swept smooth, a bed of sand which soon would be covered in broad copper plates and woven baskets holding the prepared feast. Before long his captains and faithful companions had joined him, all placing themselves on the rugs in their rough circle, no man higher than the next, no head nor foot to their earthen table. The riders were still out among the flints and stones of the valley, and Mun'at bade the older men tell stories while they waited. Rana'in, the eldest, spoke first, relating the tale of his first hunt, when he alone had chased an oryx to exhaustion, following her for two days through the hills of Hijaz until she simply lay down and died, unable to flee any longer. Then Khalil, a herdsman turned raider, told of his journey north to the salt sea of 'Isra'êl, mixing in as many crude jokes as he could and turning the youngest men among them crimson. After Khalil one-eyed Haza'el began to speak, but was instantly cut off when the tent's inner flap was thrown open, letting in a cloud of dust and six men.
Mun'at Ha'Qadri rose and embraced the foremost among them. "May Shay' al-Qaum bless this company." the newcomer said by way of greeting, to which Mun'at responded "Dushara's protections over this land." With the formalities of salutation dispensed with the riders then sat, taking places amongst Mun'at's men on the carpeted ground, and Mun'at motioned to signal the commencement of the feast. In proper Bedouin fashion the plates were first offered to the guests, the most revered of their number taking his rightful portion and handing the dish to his next companion. When they had finished with the platters of meat and baskets of bread they would then reach across the open space and extend the meal to Mun'at who would follow suit, taking his allotted amount and handing the feast on down the line until it finally reached the lowest man there seated. And after all had had their fill, eating in silence, the remains were taken away to be divided between the men and women outside, and rich strong wine was brought in that the distinguished party might casually discuss the import of the riders' message.
The man who had greeted Mun'at was the first to speak once the wine had been served. "We thank you for your hospitality, and commend the excellent feast you have provided us." he said with raised cup, to which each man answered with a nod and cup equally raised. With the toast behind them he then continued. "However, we are expected back in Rekem this night and so must not tarry or waste words. Four days after the last new moon a Lihyanite force was seen departing Dedan, heading west toward Hijaz, and as they crossed the lands between their profane city and the barrier hills they, by power of gold and threats, impressed many of the intervening tribes to join their number. They have raided the oases of the southern tribes and even now are poised near Tabuk, prepared to strike our allies of the Hisma."
Mun'at gently raised a hand to stop the man. It was not his words that gave him pause, but rather the way he said them, the faint note of panic on the edge of hearing and the desperate glint in the man's eye. "What is it to us if they raid Tabuk?" he asked calmly, his voice even. "The Lihyanites will carry out their raids, as they always do, and before the next moon is full the Hisma and Hijaz tribes will have raided the Lihyanites in their turn. When they have each had their play at brigandry we too will ride out and take our tolls from them all; that is the way of the desert. Why should we concern ourselves with one petty band of plunderers?"
The man took a breath before answering and almost imperceptibly shook his head. "Mun'at Ha'Qadri," he began gravely, "you are a wiser man that that. It is now sixty turnings of the year since the pale men out of the sunset lands, those arrogant Greeks with their illusions of empire, came to our shores, and they show no desire to leave. With the death of their great king Iskandar* we were given respite, the greed in their hearts driving them to bleed their brothers and break all bonds of friendship, and this alone has allowed our continued survival. Malka Qênu, our most wise king, fears that should the fragmentary and quarrelsome Diadochoi set aside their long feud then they will turn their ever-hungry eyes eastward to our lands. That is why we must unite the tribes of the desert, all of them, that together we may stand against the rich Ptolemies and over-reaching Seleukids."
"But such fear is surely senseless, unnecessary," Mun'at replied, "for are we not friends to the Greeks of Phoinike* and en-Nil*, those Ptolemies who hold secure our western borders? And are not the Seleukids indifferent to us and moreover held at bay by the powers of Bostra and Tadmur? What have we to fear from their likes?"
"Your boldness and strength of conviction does you credit Mun'at Ha'Qadri, but you know it is unfounded. Tadmur and Bostra stand free and independent by chance alone. The Seleukids and Ptolemies worry one another on every field of the Levant, and this preoccupation leaves neither one the time or resources to adventure far from their usual haunts. Should they make peace, the cities of the north will fall. As for the Ptolemies to our west, those you call 'friend', they care nothing for family or tribe or nation. They are individuals to a man, without concern for any but themselves, and they are not to be trusted."
The messenger paused briefly then, and when he spoke again his voice was low and yet more powerful, as though volume had been casually traded for weight and force. "Think on their history Mun'at." he said. "Without their mighty king, who they venerated and feared as a god, how long did they stand by one another? How long did they lock shields in phalanx unconquerable? Before Iskandar's body had even been laid to rest Ptolemy, father of a line of traitors, seized it that he might by the bones of a hero legitimize his claim. As for the rest of them, within two years the Greeks had forgotten all bonds of kinship and common loyalty, tearing at the scraps of an empire as dogs over a carcass. They are not to be trusted."
With flushed cheeks the man finished and Mun'at, head bowed in contemplation, slowly responded. "Yes..." he said with downcast eyes, "you are right..." His voice trailed off and in the close silence of the tent the men sitting began anxiously to trade glances between Mun'at, the messenger, and one another. As the interlude stretched the anxiety of the captains and companions grew, and just as they began to stir on their mats Mun'at raised his head and fixed the messenger with flashing eyes. He spoke calmly and evenly, but with barely contained ferocity. "What would our king have of me?"
| *Glossary |
*Rekem: Petra
*Malek: "king"
*Iskandar: Alexander the Great
*Phoinike: Phoenicia
*en-Nil: the Nile
|
Continue to Chapter 1 - Part II
Written in Sand (Nabataean AAR for EBII)[updated: June 29]
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