Chapter Five

Fear.

Despite Musa's advice the creeping emotion curled around the inside of my heart, turning my soul cold. My heart pounded in my chest as we entered; first, an antechamber, an arch of polished marble framing our passage, then yet another smaller room where, watching with furtive glances, stood a small man.

Greetings of peace were exchanged before the man, sweat glistening on his forehead as he wrung his hands, whispered, "You have to forgive the Governor." His eyes darted to the left and the right, as though searching. "He's become a tad bit...eccentric over time. The Caliph is well aware of the problem, but hasn't had time to address it yet." My heart sank further - what were we getting ourselves into? "Just...just don’t irritate him. Do whatever he asks." He took Musa's hand, then mine, his grasp tight, but trembling. "Do whatever he asks."

"May Allah reward you well," Musa said as he - much to my annoyance - smiled, his teeth glistening. A cocktail of irritation and fear washed over my heart as I watched the nameless man scurry away.

"What was that all about?" I murmured.

Musa gave a slight shrug. "A blessing."

I looked at him with bewilderment, but when he offered no explanation, I said no more. The doors ahead opened and a courtier, stiff necked with cold eyes, announced our presence.

We entered, my heart now large and seemingly stuck in my throat. I tried desperately to calm myself, but failed, trembling slightly from what was to come. The new room was large and elaborately decorated, a lush crimson carpet blanketing the floor, a row of small marble pillars, twinkling as they caught the light from one large window, leading towards a large chair, atop of which sat the Governor, richly dressed and somewhat plump. My mouth went dry.

Somewhere at the back of my mind I noted that on the top of each of the short pillars there stood a sculpture of a human head, each one different from the other. I shot a glance at Musa and, noticing his disapproving frown, desperately hoped that he wouldn't do anything that would put the both of us in jeopardy.

"Welcome, and upon you be peace," the Governor said, his voice rich and deep.

"And upon you be peace as well," Musa replied.

The Governor's eyes flicked over to the muqaddam, pausing to give a brief disinterested glance at me. It seemed that I wasn't worth his time, and was somewhat glad that his attention was focused solely on my friend.

"I know you," the Governor said, gesturing at Musa.

"That you do," the muqaddam replied. "I assumed that’s why you called us here."

"You assumed correctly," the Governor replied. "I know you, and know your family. In fact, I find it strange to see such a nobleman as yourself in my dungeons. But no matter. I have a transaction that you may be -" He was cut off as a sharp knock rang from the door. Looking up, his face a mask of irritation, he snapped, "Yes, what is it?"

Another courtier entered. "It's the head of the Trader’s Guild," he said. "He wishes an urgent meeting with yourself."

The Governor hissed through clenched teeth. "Tell him I just died."

"Very good, sir."

I blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I snuck a glance at my friend but, to my consternation, he looked the very portrait of peace itself. Somehow I found this extremely exasperating.

"You were saying?" Musa said.

"What?" the Governor said, blinking. I felt something clench my heart. This was not going well at all.

"You had something to offer?"

"Oh." He sat up straight as he composed himself. "Yes." He cleared his throat. "But first - how amiss of me, where are my manners? Please, eat." Snapping his fingers, another courtier appeared, carrying a bowl of fruit.

I glanced over it, but the sour taste in my stomach had destroyed any appetite that I may have had.

"An offer you said?" Musa pressed on.

"Yes...an offer. Your freedom, of course, both yourself and your friend," he gestured towards me, and I smiled weakly in response, "but I'm sure you'd already came to that conclusion yourself." He held his palm out towards the courtier. "Please, eat."

"And what is it," the muqaddam said, "that you want in return?"

The Governor’s eyes flashed. "Eat!"

Quickly I grabbed one of the fruits - an apple - while Musa, taking his time as he peered inside, picked one out and took a bite. "May Allah reward you well," he said.

The Governor's mouth pressed into a thin smile. "Your family is very well-known here in my city and, as you know, the Romans are massing at our borders. I'm sure the Caliph will deal with any invasion, but it seems the people here are a little too reliant on him. They haven't - what are you doing?"

I turned to Musa and, seeing what the Governor was seeing, felt my stomach turn to ice. What was he doing? The muqaddam, seemingly oblivious to all around him, was busy turning all the carved heads on pillars so that they faced away from the room.

"Tidying up," Musa said.

The Governor opened his mouth to speak, then paused, thinking better of it. I let out a breath that I hadn't even realised I was holding in until that moment.

"Yes. So," the Governor went on. "Some of the nobles here are not willing to provide either money or men for any war effort. Rest assured, if the Romans invade it will be this city that will be first in their sights. What I need from you is to go and persuade them otherwise. People listen to you. They respect your family and - put that down!"

Slowly Musa put down one of the statues, then looked up at the Governor. "Who are these...people?"

The Governor's cheek twitched. "People I admire. Men from the annals of history; great leaders." A pause, before adding quickly, "I have fatawa from my ulema permitting to keep these."

Musa’s eyes narrowed to slits. "Is that so?"

I felt the temperature drop slightly; imagined or not, I couldn't tell, but at that moment in time all I wanted to do was get back to our cell. At least it was safe there.

"Oh, come now," the Governor went on, a touch defensively. "You, of all people, know the value of having role models, of having people to look up to."

"This is true," Musa conceded. "The people of Allah, however, are not like...these." He nodded towards the statues.

"Well," the Governor went on. "You can keep them; I'm not going to stop you. So what if I consider these people to be examples of good leadership? It's their methods I subscribe to, not their beliefs."

"Do you?"

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw some of the courtiers and guards peek out from behind thick, silk curtains, eager to watch this battle of wills. The spectacle unnerved me. I remembered the warning we had received earlier, and knew that the muqaddam, with his pushing and prodding, was ignoring it. A tingling sense of dread ran through my veins. I’d never been so scared, nor so miserable, in my life.

The Governor sniffed, before asking, "What do you mean?"

A smile touched Musa’s lips, as he stood pressing his fingertips together. "A person mustn’t become so enamoured with people who are examples of true humanity that they forget to be examples of true humanity themselves."

Flicking his wrist, the Governor smirked, chuckling. "We are not meant to be like them."

"All that is asked of us is that we try."

"Save your preaching. I get enough of that from the ulema here. Hypocritical, impotent and unrealistic the lot of them."

Musa stepped forward. "That's only because it reflects the hypocrisy, weakness and doubt in your own soul."

I froze. That did it. I knew we wouldn't leave this room alive now. The Governor's eyes flared, blazing, and I waited for the inevitable explosion. The two of them -the man of the world and the man of Allah - stared at the other, the atmosphere between them thick. Spinning dust motes swam lazily through the air, sunlight glinting off of them. Then, as though the tension itself had been sucked out of the room, the Governor relaxed, smiling. "I'll keep your words in mind, thank you," he said. "And now...do you accept my offer?"

I looked at my friend, my throat raw, though I hadn't yet said a word. I knew very well why the Governor was sending us instead of his own men. The high-born families in this city were, bar a few exceptions, far from noble. Death was the usual response to any criticism of their ways, death that was then conveniently swept from public view by the authorities.

Musa couldn't possibly put us in such a situation. My life couldn't turn any worse now, and besides, we still had his journey to undertake.

Imagine, then, my surprise when the muqaddam smiled saying, "We accept."

I looked from my friend to the ruler, and then back again, a numb sense of disbelief clouding my mind. The Governor's gloating smile made me sick. "Excellent," he said. "My servants will prepare everything for you. May Allah go with you."

And with that we were dismissed. Spinning on my heels, I followed the muqaddam out, tears stinging my eyes. Anger and fear, a volatile mixture, fought for dominance in my heart. Everything bad that had ever happened in my pathetic little life rushed into my mind at that moment - living off the streets, being shunned from society, living alone in my hut, being arrested, losing A'isha. Why, oh why, was my life so unfair?

Musa's head snapped up, and he turned slightly to face me. "The way we think shapes our reality."

A felt a hot jolt of anger at him at that moment and could only spit out, "What?"

This time, he stopped, turned to face me completely and took my wrist within his fingers. I shrank back from his cool gaze. "Allah is as His slave thinks Him to be."

Then he let go, walking away swiftly, leaving me to catch up, my mind awhirl.