The Pen- Sultan's Wisdom

by Dennis Galloway

  All except one, Bashar. His look was one of astonishment and fear.

  “A great feast is to be set out this very evening in honor of my son returning to the tribe,” Abbas declared to the gathered crowd.

  At the feast, there was music, dancing, and a lot of talking. Tara and I were seated in a place of honor on the right hand of Abbas.

  Harold sat directly behind them, listening and watching.

  “So, tell me, my son, what befell you so we thought you to be captured or killed?” Abbas asked as he leaned toward me while eating some couscous.

  “My men and I became isolated during the battle. Then, I suddenly found myself fighting alone. Somehow, my group had vanished. I was so busy defending myself from the onslaught of the enemy that I did not see them go. I know not how it happened.”

  Abbas said nothing but looked at his food and grunted.

  “You know, of course, that is not possible,” said Abbas. “Our tribe fighters would never abandon you, but as the fight became worse, would stand with you, shoulder to shoulder, if necessary, and fight until dead. No, my son, there is more to this than you know.” Abbas continued to eat as the music, dancing, and talk swirled about us. “It is good that you escaped and have returned to us. Thank Allah.”

  “Yes, Father, it is. I would not have been here sitting with you and our tribe had it not been for this woman, Tara,” I said as I put my arm about her shoulders and looked at her with loving eyes.

  “I thank you, Tara, for returning my son to me and our family. Many blessings upon you,” Abbas said to Tara. He could see how I loved her and smiled.

  The festivities continued late into the night, but Tara and I were tired from our struggle in the desert and went to sleep in a tent provided by Abbas.

  Harold saw Al-Hamid and Tara leave the festivities. He remained with Abbas and continued to watch. His view did not fade, so he thought there must be more for him to witness. He just did not know what he was meant to see or when he would see it.

  Harold watched the celebration slowly dwindle as various people bowed to Abbas and thanked him for the feast before leaving the tent to go to sleep. Something was going on because Abbas did not retire to his tent like all the others. Instead, he slowly smoked his water pipe in silence.

  I was told later by Abbas that he stayed up into the night, rehearsing theories of my capture. Then he summoned guards to apprehend the men who had fought with me that day and bring them to him.

  They were forced in front of Abbas, where they knelt down with their faces pressed into the carpet and their arms stretched out in surrender.

  After intense interrogation, they admitted it was Bashar who had put them up to abandoning me during the battle.

  Abbas knew they were mere pawns in this treachery, foolish to follow the demands of his wicked son against a member of our own tribe. As punishment, they were to trail the caravan and pick up the dung the camels or horses left behind, for use in their campfires. In addition, they were to be slaves to the women of the tribe for the remainder of the year, doing the washing and cleaning and any other tasks asked of them without complaint. Also, they were never to be soldiers of the tribe again, but only workers deemed unfit for positions of responsibility. If they did not accept these punishments, they were free to leave the tribe, which was a death sentence in the desert.

  They accepted the punishments with much groveling and apologies for their behavior.

  They knew, but for the kindness of Abbas, their heads would be bleaching in the morning sun.

  As for Bashar, his crime was much worse. Abbas, with a heavy heart, sent guards to find and bring Bashar before him.

  Harold was very impressed by Abbas’ skill in discovering the truth. He continued to watch him in action.

  Bashar was roused from his sleep and brought to Abbas in the cold of the desert night, with stars shining above. All was quiet. The tribe was asleep and its tents dark, except for Abbas’, which glowed with a small oil lamp.

  Harold watched as the tent flap was pulled aside to admit Bashar into Abbas’ presence. The soldiers who had brought Bashar stayed outside the tent, guarding it from any intruders.

  What happened next between Abbas and Bashar was related to me later by Abbas himself.

  Abbas was sitting on a cushion, with a small lamp on a nearby table. The light shone on his face, shadows deepening the wrinkles about his eyes and his graying hair. Bashar stood before him.

  “Sit here, my son. I have some serious questions to ask you—questions that make my heart heavy,” said Abbas with a wave of his hand toward another cushion.

  Bashar was shaking a little.

  “As you wish, my father,” he said as he sat down, crossed his legs, and drew his robe about him to ward off the night’s cold.

  “You have been accused of commanding some of our fighters to do something evil and in violation of our law,” said Abbas, watching Bashar’s eyes.

  “Who could have accused me of such wickedness? I am innocent, I assure you!” Bashar shouted.

  Abbas looked at him intently.

  “You have been accused of treachery against Al-Hamid when we fought the Tahek tribe. It is claimed that you arranged to have him abandoned so he would be killed or captured. Is that not so?” he asked, still looking intently into Bashar’s eyes.

  Bashar blinked and looked away for an instant before focusing on Abbas’ face, but not his eyes.

  “That is not so! I would never abandon family in a battle!” he protested.

  “Do you not know of the group that was to protect Al-Hamid during the battle? Did you ask them what happened to him after the battle? Did you punish them for losing Al-Hamid? Did you weep at his loss? Did you try to gather fighters to go after the enemy so you could rescue him?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, yes….” Bashar dropped his eyes to the carpet and began to weep.

  Abbas frowned. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  Bashar, weeping, looked up from the floor to Abbas’ face and, through clenched teeth, said, “I am jealous of your love for him…always have been since you anointed him your son. I wanted him to be gone so I could regain the love you give him. I wanted your respect and your adoration to be given to me, not him! I hate him!”

  Bashar’s fury and anger shocked Abbas. His eyes grew wide when Bashar spewed forth such words. He was taken aback at the sight of this coming from one of his sons against another. He was saddened that such feelings could have driven Bashar to commit such a terrible act.

  Abbas looked at Bashar and with a soft voice said, “Son, my love for Al-Hamid was no more than the love I have for you.”

  He hesitated, looked away from Bashar, then stiffened his back and firmly said, “But your actions violated our law. As leader, in this case, I am given only two choices. One is death to the violator; the other is banishment.”

  Bashar was astounded. His eyes wide, he fell to his knees and begged, “No, Father. I was not thinking right. This was just a bad decision I made in a difficult time. I am truly sorry.”

  Bashar bent his forehead to the carpet before his father, weeping, grasping to kiss Abbas’ feet.

  “Return to your tent. I will announce my decision tomorrow. We will talk of this no more.” Abbas would not look at Bashar. His face was deeply troubled.

  Abbas moved his feet away from Bashar’s grasping and stood up.

  “Leave now. Return to your tent and await my judgment,” Abbas said as he pointed to the tent opening.

  Bashar stifled his tears, sniffed a bit, wiped the tears from his face with a long sleeve, and stood up. He bowed slightly, turned, and was gone from the tent.

  Harold watched Bashar go and then looked at Abbas. The old man’s eyes held tears, but he did not shed them. Harold followed Bashar as he went to his tent, tore open the flap, and stormed inside.

  Bashar was enrage
d and fearful. He paced back and forth in the tent with tears rolling down his face and curses flowing from his lips.

  “How could he accuse me, his son, of such betrayal? Have I not been loyal to him? Have I not done as he asked in everything? Does he not love me? May he rot in a thousand pieces! May he become camel fodder to be trampled upon!”

  Bashar plopped down on a large cushion, grabbed a large flask of sharbat, and gulped it down in a fury. He sat moaning and swaying back and forth.

  Harold was very angry at Bashar for his betrayal of Al-Hamid, so he decided to do something about it. He got close to Bashar’s ear and whispered, “He will humiliate you before the tribe and publicly behead you.”

  Bashar’s eyes grew wide on hearing the voice. He immediately fell on his face on the tent’s carpet.

  “Great Allah who watches us all, what are you saying will happen to me?”

  Harold whispered again, “He shall humiliate you. He will defile your name. He will make you weep before others. He will shame you…he will behead you!”

  “What? No, no, no, please, no!” wailed Bashar. “What must I do to avoid such a terrible fate, O Father of the Heavens?”

  “Run, run like the wind. Escape to the desert to start another life and leave this one behind. You have betrayed your tribe. Run now while you can!” Harold whispered.

  Bashar leapt to his feet.

  “Yes. Yes, I must run, escape, flee. Be free of this persecution!”

  Bashar looked about his tent, grabbed a few things, and stuffed them into a bag.

  He carefully opened the tent flap and looked outside at the quiet encampment. Then he walked softly over to the camels, tied his bag to a beast, and quietly led it out of the camp. At a distance, he mounted the camel and trotted off into the desert.

  Harold watched, satisfied and smiling. The scene faded into white and then brightened again on a new day.

  The morning came early, with desert-sweet aromas. Campfires were already burning as the women cooked the morning meal.

  Abbas had not slept. He called a council meeting. He did not state its purpose, but he said it was important for all to attend. Surprised at such a request, rumors began to spread throughout the tribe about what the meeting could be about.

  Harold found himself in the tent used for such occasions, standing next to the opening.

  Abbas had sent for Bashar. However, he was nowhere to be found. Some of his belongings were gone, and a camel was missing. He had vanished in the night.

  This news struck Abbas very hard. His heart was broken, and his shame at the cowardly behavior of his son was visible.

  As the council members, including me, gathered in the large tent, murmurs buzzed in the air. We all settled down on cushions and crossed our legs to await the arrival of Abbas, our chief. Many sat outside the tent, listening for any news, anxious to know what this was all about.

  Abbas entered the tent and walked over to his rightful place at the head of the circle of council members. He did not look at anyone but sat down on his cushion and crossed his legs. We all could see that he was worn with grief and sat with his shoulders a bit slouched forward. He looked slowly around at the council, then began to speak.

  “I have asked you to come because I have something to tell you. I have discovered our adopted son, Al-Hamid, was betrayed and thus captured by our enemy. I have also discovered who was behind this betrayal.”

  All were astonished. Murmurs swept the room. Abbas raised his hand for quiet, and everyone stopped talking.

  “Al-Hamid was betrayed by my son Bashar, who arranged to have him abandoned in the heat of battle.”

  A roar of anger swept the tent. A few members got to their feet and swore death to Bashar. Abbas held his hand up again to settle them, for he was not yet finished. The tent quieted down.

  “I have discovered and dealt with Bashar’s accomplices appropriately. As for the leader of this act, I have but two choices. Death…”

  Some council members roared shouts of yes, but some said no. Others said nothing but shook their heads at such a betrayal. Abbas raised his hand once more for quiet, and all settled down.

  “The second choice is banishment.”

  Some members of the council nodded in agreement—others said no, such a betrayal required death.

  “It appears the choice has been made for me. Bashar has gone, fled with a few belongings. Like a coward, he has flown into the desert during the night.”

  A roar of disappointment and anger arose from the council. Some said they should go after Bashar and bring him back to face justice. Others said it was good he had flown, for he was unworthy of being a member of the tribe after such treachery.

  Above the din, Abbas said, “We will not chase a coward. I hereby disown my son Bashar and banish him forever from the tribe. Henceforth, it will be so. If he returns, he will face death by the sword.”

  The council nodded in agreement, even those who wanted to go after Bashar and drag him back.

  Abbas stood to leave the tent. As the members watched him go, each one got up and bowed with respect as he passed them on the way out. They knew he was in pain and gave him space to grieve. While Abbas had regained one son, he had lost another. It was, indeed, a sad day.

  As sad as it was, I was relieved to know finally what had happened.

  Emeralds of Wisdom

  Oddly, the scene did not fade after the council meeting as Harold expected. It simply turned white as Al-Hamid continued to tell his story.

  Harold did not seem to be tired, but he was filled with curiosity about what was to unfold before him. He patiently waited as Al-Hamid’s narration continued and the scene became clear. He found himself traveling with the caravan.

  The tribe traveled to new wadis and areas not yet explored. Things were good. Bashar was never seen again, and I was grateful to Allah that justice had been done.

  I married the slave girl, Tara, who freed me, and I took on no other wives. We were very happy and spent many a night in each other’s arms, enjoying the intimate delights. The sunsets had never before been so beautiful and the nights so sweet.

  Harold was beginning to wish his narration would never end. He was really enjoying this way of life. He would sit with them around the fires, eat some of the food, and drink some of their water. He learned how to do a few helpful things here and there without notice.

  I watched Abbas as he led the tribe and learned a great deal about his responsibilities and how he handled them. He began delegating a few tasks to me so I might learn more about leadership and what it took to do a good job.

  Now that I was married and had a good position within the tribe, I began to think about my future. I thought about the desires I had when I was young, about being a merchant, about gaining wealth and some respect in a community. I thought about my former master Karim and what he had begun to teach me. Although I was rich in terms of goods, livestock, and my standing in the tribe, it was nowhere near what I desired. My future seemed impossible.

  One evening, sitting alone in Abbas’s tent having some tea with him, I expressed the impossibility of achieving my dreams.

  “Father, I have thought long and hard about my future and the dreams I have for my life, but I see no way of achieving them. I am happy being with the tribe and having you as my father. Those are still my desires, but I also desire more. I am young and feel my heart calling out, but with no answers,” I said as I looked at my cup of tea.

  “I understand what you are saying, my son. When I was young, I, too, had dreams and desires. What you see around you and what you see in me is what my desires and dreams were. I achieved my dreams, and I am living them.”

  “Father, please tell me how you accomplished so much. How did you achieve your dreams?” I leaned closer to hear what he had to say.

  He put down his cup, placed his hands together, and
brought them to his lips, as if in prayer. Then he brought his hands down and looked at me.

  “I think you are mature enough now to understand what I am about to tell you. This emerald of wisdom was passed down to me from my grandfather, and it came from his father and grandfather and so on, before him. Not all know of this wisdom, and of those few who have heard it, not many actually allow it to take root in their hearts and thus benefit them.

  “Whenever it is used, it bestows blessings on the wise who listen, believe, and act upon the wisdom given.” He paused to give me a moment to understand the gravity of what I was about to learn.

  “Many times, it seems impossible to achieve your dreams because your path is in the dark or cannot be seen clearly. We all build barriers to our dreams because of our beliefs. We tell ourselves something is not achievable because of our circumstances, because we have no wealth, because we do not have the right training, or because someone is preventing us. All these things are around us, what we believe to be true, and because of these things, we are prevented from achieving our dreams.

  “What I am about to tell you will allow you to achieve any dream you desire. It is simple, but very powerful.” He paused again, took a deep breath, and began.

  “To achieve your dreams, you have but to believe that your dreams are achievable.

  “Believe your circumstances will change. Believe you will have the wealth needed, that you will learn new skills. Believe that those who oppose you will be cast down. That the path will be revealed to you. You must believe with all your heart and all your might. Believe that you have already achieved the dream. See yourself living in the dream when you go to sleep at night, and also, see yourself living in the dream when you awake. Act and feel as if you have already achieved the dream. Do so that your mind may know what to tell you to do to continue the belief that you are already living your dream. Then act on that advice, for it comes from Allah. He has heard your beliefs and is there to help you. Be sure to pray, giving Allah thanks and showing how grateful you are for what you have, for His help, and for making your dreams come true.