The wife market

The town we arrived at was a vibrant hub of commerce. People came and went from the town daily. Here, in the town of Akfu, the destiny of the refugees was going to be decided. Were they going to become beggars and whores? Or will they become contributing members of society?

I wanted to do right by the refugee women who latched themselves onto me for my perceived capability of protecting them. I can't take care of them forever, so I needed to find a solution to this situation.

I wrote a sign:

"Get yourself a wife."

We stood at the end of the marketplace. Me and several women. I look like a pimp. An angry-looking group of guards approached us.

"It's forbidden to sell whores here."

Normally, they would apprehend a pimp who wanted to sell women in broad daylight immediately. They gave us the benefit of the doubt and started by talking first instead of dragging us away in humiliation.

"Halt, whore-peddling is forbidden in this market; this market is for dignified products."

I stepped forward. It's a precarious situation. One wrong word and I will find myself in a jail cell.

"These are not hookers, sir. These are dignified refugees escaping from Quraysh raids. They are looking for husbands of good character. Lest they become whores and beggars you are wary of. I demand no money; the only thing I'm trying to do is do right by these women. In fact, can guard house help me find husbands of good reputation for these women?"

The guards looked at each other. Their eyes softened. They smiled.

"You are at the wrong place, friend. During such trying times, like-natured services are provided by Temple. They look after orphans and widows, providing them with places to stay just like you do now."

 I pondered a bit. I decided to see to their safety under no slavery-like terms even if I'd have to do so in the temple.

 When someone is desperate and weak, all sorts of unsavory folks start loitering around them. That includes wolves in sheep's clothing. One may don a priest's gown. It's not a risk I'm willing to take. When I die, my heart shall be lighter than a feather.

***

 The priest is giving me weird looks. Yes, I'm protecting these women. Why would the priest be upset about that? It's quite bizarre.

He is a skinny man with a bad posture. He looks quite jarring because, normally, a priest would be invigorated by the blessings of the golden sands and have healthy complexions. The slightly older wife of the now-dead farmer has found another farmer husband. The priest is getting visibly uncomfortable. Suspicious. The town tailor took another woman as a wife. Upset, the priest snaps at me.

"Why do you care? Why do you insist on seeing to their departure?" Alright, that's enough. 

"Friend, what were you trying to do to these women if I weren't here?" He assumed a defensive posture, shifting his eyes wildly. 

"Nothing." I pressed on. 

"Come on, are you doing something that will make your heart heavier than a feather?" The man is torn apart by his inner turmoil. 

"I was trying to present a woman to the town mayor so that I would be in his good graces." 

There it is. A whore in a priest outfit. The only thing that holds him back from selling himself is that he lacks the apparatus down there. 

"Is this mayor a trustworthy person? If I leave a woman under his care, would she be alright?"

The man, with a defensive and low posture, murmured something under his breath. I was getting angry. 

"Speak up!"

He said,

"She would probably end up on the streets once the mayor became bored with her."

I spat on the ground in disgust. The women behind me are too coiled in disgust, I presume. I looked down upon this pathetic man who sought to unload suffering onto people for his gain, even though he was a man of the robe. I struck him with my open palm, my eyes wide with fuming anger. Even though he is more powerful than me in his temple, he knows he deserves that strike. My strike failed to penetrate the flesh. His head didn't even tilt. However, the strike has seeped deep into his emotional state. He started sobbing. I was even more angry. 

"Why are you crying? Aren't you the one who tried to do evil to these people?"

He found the breath to answer between hiccups.

"The mayor loves flattery. Those who flatter him rise, and those who don't fall. So men are made into monsters to feed the mayor's debauchery."

The defeated man before me is a sinner. There is no doubt about it. He is as guilty as the mayor he worships. This town too might become overrun by the Quraysh if they insist on being corrupt and therefore weak.

"Here is what's going to happen: These women will find fine husbands, and you will not touch them. I'm not the pharaoh. I can't stop you, or your mayor. I can, however, do right by these women. Do you understand me?" The priest nodded. Will I be like this man after I finish my priestly training? Am I going to be all chewed up and spit out by life, just like this man is? It's quite dreadful to think about.

***

Zahir pov

We have accumulated a lot of wealth. We also have a bunch of slaves. To be honest, it's all worthless. We are a people who are disconnected from the world. We have to do a lot of tricks just to exchange something for something else. Those who know us hate us. If we want to have a decent life, we have to spread Manat's religion as widely as possible so we can exchange things among believers, increasing the comfort in our lives. 

"Slave! Feed me some grapes." 

Look at her. She is scurrying around in total terror, trying to find grapes to feed me. She knows not to go against me. Soon enough, when she is marinated in fear enough, she will be ready to convert to the religion. That's how this El-Manat religion works. Those who are born into it know nothing but it. Those who are converted to it are broken people. That's to be expected. This religion breaks people until they are small enough to swallow. The believers are a perfect army. They are, however, not perfect people. They are motivated and willing to die. Those who die spreading the religion by the sword are martyrs. Martyrs are in the highest realm of paradise. I don't know if it's true or not. I only know that, with their help, I can suck the marrow of this world as long as I pay lip service to El-Manat. I can embrace any woman, and I eat meat every day. I sometimes feel like taking my believer's woman. In that case, I keep sending them to the front lines until they die. If they lived, that meant they brought fresh slaves. If they die, it means I can make a move on their women. I love the fact that these pious people, telling themselves they are righteous, are feeding me the world. The holy prophet knew what he was doing. He calibrated the pious around him to serve their lord unceasingly and without doubt. He covered every corner of the scripture with threats and bribes to the believers. Those who do this will go to a fiery place; those who obey will go to a place full of light where they will be served by others. It's quite hilarious. Hey, lend me a thousand gold, and I will pay you back after you die. What kind of fool would take this deal? I walked out of my house and went to the temple of El-Manat. I performatively worshipped Manat in front of onlookers. Why do they accept prayer as a good deed in their hearts? I affect nothing but my public image with this series of rituals. It accomplishes nothing. The ignorant worshippers gaze upon me with religious fervor. It makes them feel jubilated that they got to witness someone from the prophet's bloodline connecting with El-Manat. Not only men feel this way. I can feel the gazes of women too. Underneath the thin veil of righteous faith, their eyes clearly show signs of lust. I'm sinking, just like my predecessors sank before me. I will sink into their ignorance and undoubtedly die there. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy all the boons they have to offer. I must reflect their savagery to them as righteousness. They will rip me apart once they suspect me. So I shall go as deep and far as I can. This world is going to pay for birthing me into these shackles. Wherever I go, there will be death and destruction. I will impose the will of El-Manat so hard that there will be no happiness under me either. We will recuperate from our losses and start raiding pagan towns once more.