The Qureysh raid

"It's the Quraysh! They are attacking us!"

Five men on camelback were shooting flaming arrows at the tents. The caravan guards were of no help. They had just worn warrior's garments to get free money from the rich. They had thrown their swords to the side at the first signs of trouble.

The camel riders were standing on top of a dune. They had the high ground. Any opposition, if they wanted to engage in melee, would have to scale the dune to get them. Even then, they would be competing with men on camelback.

However, one fact preceded all the other facts mentioned. If we fell prisoners into their hands, our lives would not be guaranteed. In the best-case scenario, we would be paying a toll.

The worst-case scenario would be the decimation of our lives in humiliation. We would get everything taken from us. Unwilling to fall to my fate, I kicked a spear up into my palm.

I am a farmer's son. I've been swinging a hoe all my life. I'm not behind a warrior when it comes to arm strength. With a hurl, the spear flies true and finds itself lodged in the chest cavity of the fancy-looking man among the bandits. The other men stop and howl in grief. They aren't the battle-hardened men they make themselves out to be. They had descended upon us like demons, but they are paper demons at best. Nazim picked up a bow after seeing me kill that guy. He aimed at a man and shot his camel in the face as a result.

The rest of the attackers fled with their tails between their legs.

I turned toward Nasim and said:

"So much for the power of your coin. Your men evaporated real quick when it mattered the most."

He looked down in shame. He couldn't say anything to me. He knows I'm right. I've walked toward the fallen Qureysh man's corpse and searched his pouch. He had rings, pendants, and coins. The rings were of feminine design. It was ill-gotten gains from unlucky travelers.

I kicked his filthy corpse in disgust.

We decided to keep camping there because we had a camel to eat. Courtesy of the caravan trader Nazim and his arrow. Nazim said we shouldn't move at the timetable of the Quraysh raiders. The Quraysh would be waiting for us at the next oasis on the caravan road. In their heads, we have already moved from the location of the confrontation.

Nazim turned toward the deserters in disgust. They were apprehended when they returned to check out what happened to us. They found us feasting on camel meat, and since they were unarmed, they had been surrounded by armed traders and workers.

Nazim beat them with a cane.

"You filthy bastards! What if Nazhotep wasn't here? I would be dead! Every woman here would become a slave! Including my wife and daughter!"

A swift whip of the cane found itself on the cheekbone of a deserter. He shrieked and fell to his side.

Nazim, after beating the deserters until he was red in the face and drenched in sweat, turned towards me.

"Nazhotep! Thank you! I don't know what I'd do without you! None of these bastards are worth their salt. You saved my life, wish anything from me, and I will give it to you. Are you sure you don't want to work for me? I'll make it worth your while. It's hard to find trustworthy people these days."

I don't want to work for a man who makes mistakes this severe. He made mistakes in hiring mercenaries and plotting courses through the desert, and most importantly, he missed the clue.

The man I killed was wearing fancy clothes. That means he held a position in the Quraysh tribe. That might make them thirsty for revenge. I'm not about to point that out to him. He might just sell me out to the Quraysh tribe. You can't trust a merchant. I just hope luck is on our side and they fail to track us through the desert.

"For the second time, Nazim. I don't want to work for you. You can't give me eternity."

Nazim's face soured.

"Bah, do you think every priest becomes eternal? It's once in a blue moon! You better live your life instead, boy. The monk life isn't that good."

His sour face wasn't for me. It was for the temple. I guess there is a story there. I won't pry tough.

Nasim thought a bit and yelled out.

"Aisha, come here! Meet Nazhotep. This is your new master. "

Aisha smiled at me; she was feeling her collar while looking at me. Her eyes held a profound sadness.

"Aisha greets the master."

She is a bit older than me. Her hair is wavy, and her tan lines suggest she is paler than she lets on.

"Thanks, Nasim. I never guessed that I could own a slave at this young age of mine."

Nasim patted my back.

"You deserve to have nice things, lad. You've saved our lives. Had we been robbed, that would set us back half a year on reimbursements alone. She is but a cheap price to pay for such a big favor."

His intentions have now been made clear. He got bored of her. He dumped her on me so he could get a new one.

Later that night, I unlocked Aisha's collar. It's a gesture that symbolizes the freeing of slaves. She was surprised. She didn't expect to be liberated from her shackles, willy-nilly. Her eyes welled up with tears. She hugged my neck and started yelling.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

I pushed her away.

"I can't look after a woman. I'm eighteen, and I don't have an income. I'll probably go to war in two years. I'll do the best I can to take care of you until you can take care of yourself on your own."

I'd hate to dampen her mood, but she needs to hear the truth from me. She can't let her emotions run on false premises. It's a recipe for disaster.

She controls herself. She faintly smiles.

"I understand, Nazhotep. Thank you for liberating me anyway."

Her demeanor has changed from before. Domesticated animals and wild animals are different. Domesticated animals are more useful, but wild animals undeniably have more nobility. Her demeanor, likewise, became more noble. She is sitting up straight before me. Faintly smiling in appreciation.

We slept back to back. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen until I go to war and return alive. It's cruel to have women widowed this young. I want to do the pharaoh's will and become a priest before I have a love life.

The next day, Nasim informed me that we were going to skip the next oasis. and make a desperate run for the one after that. Our warriors are insufficient and we are juicy prey. We need to arrive at the domain which is firmly under Pharoah's control as soon as possible. The deserters were half naked, tied behind Nasim's camel with a rope. Now and then one of them would fall and get dragged on the sands. The top layer of the skin of their lips is getting peeled off. They are severely dehydrated. Not my problem though.

A week later, there was a cloud of dust on the horizon. It's not from the direction of the capital. The Quraysh are on our tail. The person I killed must be higher than I imagined. The size of the dust cloud is nothing to scoff at. Normally, this tribe of caravan raiders would be stretched out and would be operating in five-man teams. They recalled as many teams as they could to chase us down and kill us with their numerical advantage.

Nasim is visibly stressed out. He isn't in control of the situation. The situation is far more severe than I imagined. Nazim is a merchant. His control over his face and demeanor is a major weapon of his. He would lose every bargain if his face revealed the emotions in his heart every time. Him losing his cool is different than a normal person losing his cool. If Nasim is losing his cool, that means the specter of death is inching ever closer to our caravan.

Sure enough, they surrounded us within three days. They had sent ten men to each oasis they could. and chased us down with twenty men. The haughty-looking gentleman yelled in sheer rage.

"Who killed my son!?"

Nasim caught me by my collar and threw me at the man's feet. The bastard sold me out real quick.

He groveled at the man's feet.

"I've brought out the bastard who killed your son. Spare me my life and my wares. Oh, great warrior."

The warrior impaled Nasim in the neck with his spear. He had no mercy for the merchant.

Aisha pushed away the crowd and whispered into my ear.

I lifted my head and confidently yelled.

"I testify that Manat is the only god and Al-Uzeyir is his messenger. Your son tried to rob me and died. As a new Manat worshipper, I demand Manat's trial from other Manat worshippers."

The man looked more enraged than before.

"You have a great woman with you. She just added minutes to your life. You will die by my spear anyway."