RASHID ABUBAKER

2 Corinthians 9:6-7 KJV -

But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully.

Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver.

--

A forty-year-old Arab man with a long beard and a strong and muscular body like the ancient Greek hero Hercules with well-oiled skin was playing with his beard as he looked at the view below the Dome of the Rock mosque. On closer inspection, he was wearing the latest and one of the most expensive robes in fashion.

Rashid Abubaker stood at the door to the entrance of the Dome of the Rock mosque, known in Arabic as al-Haram al-Sharif. Waiting for the Brotherhood's emissary still finishing up his prayers to join him. As for him, he rushed to finish his late afternoon prayers and was eager to visit the Mercenary Guild before they closed shop for the day.

It had been a while since he last took up an assignment. As of now his funds were almost over and before long if nothing came up. He was going to find hardship feeding and catering for his two wives or sustaining his expensive lifestyle. Taking care of two luxurious wives in Jerusalem was no mean fit in this time of scarcity. Not being able to provide for his wives was bad, but it was worse for him if he was no longer in a position to buy the latest clothes or eat the most expensive foods.

That was just not a life for him.

Rashid Abubaker was the official operative for the Assassin's Order in Jerusalem for the last five years. He had been posted here before the conqueror Saladin overthrew the Knights Templar to reclaim the Muslim lands in Jerusalem.

It had been a while since he took an assignment from the Assassin's Order. The Brotherhood was paying him a sizeable amount in salary for being posted in Jerusalem. This money came in irregularly and it was not enough for Rashid who lived largely and beyond his means.

To sustain his extravagant lifestyle. He was taking on high-profile assignation missions from the Mercenary Guild every once in a while. Their remuneration was great. For a man of his skillset and experience, the jobs were mana from heaven. Easy pickings!

"As-salamu alaykum elder!" Dutifully he greeted the emissary who was coming out of the mosque. He had also just finished his prayers.

"Wa alaykumu s-salāmu wa-raḥmatu -llāhi wa-barakātuh." The elder replied as he bent down to put on his sandals.

"Rashid, I have some communication for you from our elder in the Brotherhood." Said the emissary.

Hearing this statement, Rashid Abubaker knew that it was confidential communication so it could not be conveyed in a public place.

"Elder, I invite you to join me for evening tea. It has been a while since I had the pleasure of sitting at the same table with you, drinking tea as we swap stories." Rashid chose to invite the emissary to a quiet place in the neighborhood.

No one could suspect the nature of their conversation or be able to eavesdrop when they were seated alone sipping tea or shisha.

"That will be much appreciated, Rashid. By the way, how are your two young wives?"

"Sorry, I was not able to attend your weddings, we were handling pressing issues back home. But I will be around when you marry your third wife." The emissary made small talk as Rashid Abubaker led the way.

"It's alright elder. I do not hold it against you for not attending my wedding. For a person in your position, many issues require your attention. Your moral support is more than enough." Rashid responded.

Hearing these words from Rashid Abubaker, the elder smiled.

The Brotherhood had chosen the right person in such an important place. Most youth placed in such a position could become proud and full of their self-importance. But it was good to meet one as understanding as Rashid.

"By the way, how many children has Allah blessed you with so far?" The emissary asked him.

Rashid hesitated to reply. It had been two and half years since he got married to his two wives. No matter how many times he lay with them, none of them had been able to conceive. This was demoralizing, and stressful and made him small when other men brought about the topic of children.

If it was one wife, it could be easy to lay blame on the woman as being infertile. However, it was two wives and young ones at the perfect childbearing age.

"Elder, I have been busy and not managed to spend enough time with them to bear fruit. But we are not in a rush since we are still young, the oldest wife is turning seventeen this month. Like you very well know, we men don't get too old to father a child." Rashid Abubaker defended himself.

"Young man, you should not think like that. At your age, I was spending so much time at home with my wives that they could just push me away because I had made them too sore to entertain me. When the children arrived, I began distancing myself since it was not my place to take care of them. Spend more time with them before they give birth." The emissary advised Rashid Abubaker.

"Hahaha, elder. You must have not been easy in your youth. I will take your advice." Said Rashid with a smile on his face.

"Indeed, I was not easy Rashid. My wives nicknamed the Arabian stallion. They could joke amongst themselves on whose turn it was to graze the Arabian stallion when I returned home in the evening."

"And the secret to all this is mixing pure honey with juice extracted from fresh onions. Taking it, in the morning and evening, every day for two weeks will do you a big difference. You will become harder, longer, and more enduring with more seeds to sow. Just try it and you know what I mean." The emissary gave him his sage-like advice.

"Elder, we have arrived. Here's the place." Rashid Abubaker pointed the way to the unremarkable entrance of the tea shop.

**

Brother Philemon approached the office door of Abbott Jeromy, he stopped briefly to knock on the door two times. If the Abbot was in, he could tell him to come in.

"Come in! The door is open." The voice of Abbott Jeromy sounded from inside the room.

Philemon opened the door, it was well oiled and did not creak as it opened inwards.

Inside the office, Abbott sat behind the large and heavy wooden desk, it covered the middle section of the room.

It was a well-furnished desk, almost empty except for a small stack of folded papers, a fountain pen lying on its side as well as a small inkpot made of glass. The dark blue ink had tainted the insides of the glass, attesting to its heavy use.

A ledger with accountabilities written in it was opened before him on the right-hand side. Next to the ledger was a basket with the most recent tithes and offerings from the pilgrims to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

Inside the basket were gold coins, silver coins, and a few bronze or copper coins of various denominations from across the kingdoms of Christendom. Some of the gold coins at the top had a luster similar to recently minted coins. They had a special glow to them as the light from outside the office filtered inside the room when Brother Philemon opened the door.

"Praise God Abbott." Philemon greeted him as he closed the door.

"Oo brother Philemon, it is nice to see you. You have come at the right time when I needed you. Still going through the ledger and have not had the time to count these recent offerings from the pilgrims." The Abbott spoke up, happy to get an extra helping hand.

"It is my pleasure to always help in doing God's work. He has done so much for us that if I was to sit and elaborate, the whole day could not be enough. This is the least I can do for His never failing goodness and mercy." It was the response from Brother Philemon.

"Have a seat, you can take this seat." The Abbott pointed, to a chair that had been kept in the corner.

Brother Philemon went ahead to pick the chair from the corner and brought it in front of the large and heavy well-furnished desk.

He sat in it and began sorting the coins for counting. The gold coins he put on one side, silver coins aside, and the same for copper as well as bronze coins while segregating them by their currencies of origin. French coins, English coins, Spanish, Italian, and other minor currencies of Europe.

'Wow, what a bountiful offering from the pilgrims. I have not seen so many coins from different countries in one place like this. Check at these gold coins from France, this monarch portrays himself with youthful vigor. With all this money, my family at home could survive on it for over three generations. After all, we can go years minus earning a gold coin. Even a few silver coins are more than our seasonal harvests.' Such thoughts appeared in Brother Philemon's mind.

"These pilgrims have not given with a cheerful heart like in the previous years when the Knights Templars were in control of Jerusalem." Abbott Jeromy commented when he saw Brother Philemon marveling at the pile of coins.

Philemon was not in the accountability department, so he had not seen such a rich collection of coins before. To him, this looked like a kingly ransom. It was his first time, seeing all these currencies at once.

"Abbott, the times are still hard, it can explain the limited offerings the pilgrims have offered to the church." Brother Philemon replied.

He had interacted with many Christians complaining that the times were hard, and money was hard to come across ever since the war ended. To him, getting even this sizeable amount was already a great blessing.

Abbott Jeromy looked at the assorted coins and remarked, "it is true the times are hard but you have to know that no poor person embarks on a pilgrim to the Holy Land. It is only the rich who can afford this undertaking."