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The Tale of Princess Fatima, Warrior Woman

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by The Tale of Princess Fatima, Warrior Woman- The Arabic Epic of Dhat al-Himma (retail) (epub)


  His mother felt sorry for him, but she was also concerned about his reputation and his future. She warned him that pursuing Layla was potentially dangerous.

  “But, Mother, she’s perfect for me. And isn’t she my paternal cousin? There is no shame in my paternity. We may be poor now, but our fortunes could turn.”

  “Shh! Do you want to ruin us? If talk like that reached your uncle, he’d be hard-pressed not to kill you on the spot, or at least banish you from here. Look, we’d be going hungry tonight if your uncle’s household did not provide for us. When this is your reality, you have certain responsibilities. How does one climb to the heavens to reach the stars? One doesn’t—not even with the support of allies—whether of the East or the West.”

  Sahsah sighed, and a tear spilled down his cheek. His longing for Layla grew, but his only recourse was poetry:

  My heart heeds naysayers not

  Don’t tell me to be patient

  My heart is full to bursting

  They tell me to keep away

  As if I were some vagabond.

  Even from a distant land,

  My heart homes to her

  At news of her, my very being flies

  Your face alone, dear Layla,

  Remains my beacon.

  “Mother, do you still have Father’s old tent?”

  “Yes, I stored it with a relative.”

  “Why don’t you go get it, and we can set up camp on our own. I’ll put it at the edge of the campsite.” This sounded sensible to Sahsah’s mother, because the end of the campsite was reserved for the poor and the needy. She went to ʿAttaf’s wife’s quarters for a few items, and they settled into the old tent at the far end of the campsite. It took all Sahsah’s willpower to resist the urge to go near his uncle’s pavilion so he could check on Layla.

  One day, when Sahsah’s mother came to pick something up, Layla asked her, “How’s my cousin?”

  “My dear, he’s a wreck. He spends his nights gazing at the stars.” She told Layla everything, even reciting Sahsah’s lovelorn poetry.

  Layla sobbed, “Oh, Auntie, you know my parents didn’t send him away because they didn’t like him. They were just worried about what people would say about us being together so much. I love him . . . so much more than he loves me! If only his tongue had not lost him my father’s protection. Tell him to keep his feelings under wraps and be patient. As they say, patience is beautiful.2 May the One who allowed our separation see fit to bring us back together.” She handed her a few coins. “Tell him to take heart, Auntie. Kiss his face and hands for me, and then tell him this:

  Oh Sahsah, I have passion

  Twice as much as yours.

  I concealed from you my ardor

  Now you conceal yours

  Talk reached my father

  I exhort patience upon myself for fear of losing you

  Love has foreordained to censure us

  For now, act unattached.

  Sahsah’s mother was heartened to learn of Layla’s devotion to her son. “God bless you, Layla. Thank you,” and she left to find her son. At home, he had just come in, so she called to him and recited for him Layla’s poetry.

  Sahsah did not sleep well that night.

  * * *

  —

  At eighteen, Sahsah still loved Layla. My only fault, he mused, is my poverty. Why don’t I go out and find myself a fortune? I have no horse, armor, equipment, or money, but I also have nothing to lose.3 He set out, barefoot, wearing only a shirt with sleeves too short. He looked the part of the orphan, someone lacking the support of a provider.

  At dinnertime, his mother searched for him but could not find him. She feared that he had gone to his uncle’s house, but when he was not there either, people began speaking of the poor son of Jundaba, if only his father could see him now. ʿAttaf sent out a search party, but they returned empty-handed, and the tribe mourned his loss. Sahsah’s mother wept at the grave of her late husband.

  * * *

  —

  Sahsah walked by night and by day for three days, seeking fortune, or at least an end to his misery. On the fourth day, he arrived at a spacious meadow. Water lapped nearby, complete with waves, as if it were a sea. The land had absorbed buckets of water from the clouds overhead. Gazelles frolicked in the meadow, and birds sang on branches. There were flowers in bloom, and animals moved in the shade of the trees. Summer, in all his glory, had set up camp in the meadow, his pavilions laid out with flags flying. Having driven off winter, his troops filled the area with heaps of his bounty.

  Sahsah halted and drank some water. He ate some of the food he had brought. Then he washed himself and prayed. As he sat on the ground, he ached to return but knew that his poverty would continue to hold him back. He raised his palms toward the sky, saying, “You who taught Adam the names of things, Creator of the heavens and the earth, I ask you in the name of all the prophets you sent, and your angels who remain near to us, and all those who follow you, including the one to whom you revealed your ayat, please ease my burdens.4 Grant my desire, and bless me with legitimate wealth so I may return with it to my people. I ask this of the One who is near and hears our prayers.”

  The next morning, he washed and prayed the dawn prayer before eating from his dwindling provisions. Suddenly he noticed someone riding toward him. The horse was massive, built like a mountain. Sahsah remained seated until the horse reached him. The rider spoke as if with his last breath, “Peace be upon you.” He was bleeding and injured. “Please, help me down.” Sahsah helped ease the man to the ground, brought him water to drink, and treated his wounds.

  He was dazzled by the horse. This horse could travel faster than a bird and stood as solid as a pillar of iron. Sahsah found himself in sympathy with its rider. “Tell me who did this to you.”

  “To be honest, I am a horse thief by trade. All my life, I have been stealing horses at night. I have stopped at nothing and feared no one. This is Shahiq; you may have heard tales of him. I set out from my tribe with the aim of taking this horse. From the stories alone, I had estimated his value at the price of four hundred camels, five male slaves, and five female slaves. When I arrived at their camp, I watched and waited, biding my time for days. Finally, I got him alone. As soon as I touched him with a crop, he flew away with me like a falcon! The whole tribe pursued me on horses from every direction, their swords drawn. Some of them preceded me to the river valley, to head me off. There they fell on me, injuring me pretty severely. But he rose like a shooting star or a deadly arrow, leaving them behind in a cloud of dust. It’s been three days, and I’m still losing blood. My strength is gone, and I feel the world slipping away. I see that you don’t have much to your name. Who are you?”

  “My father was Jundaba of Bani Kilab.” Sahsah recounted his story to the wounded rustler.

  “Listen to me, boy. If you can carry me on my horse’s back and return me to my people—you’ll have to ride behind me—he’s yours. If I die on the way, just take the horse in payment for helping me. I think you’re more deserving of him than I am.”

  Sahsah agreed to help, but the rustler passed away that night. The next morning, Sahsah washed and buried him. Then he rode home.

  * * *

  —

  ʿAttaf was delighted by the sight of the formidable horse. “Tell me what happened,” he urged. At the end of Sahsah’s story, ʿAttaf leaned back. “We were all worried about you when you went missing. Welcome back!”

  Sahsah gave the horse to his uncle. ʿAttaf said, “I remember hearing of this horse. If his owner had been willing to sell, I would have gladly paid one thousand camels for him. Now I have him for nothing, thanks to you, Ibn Jundaba.

  “I won’t leave you walking,” ʿAttaf said with a laugh, and called for a horse with the coloring of a blackbird. He also gave Sahsah a sword and armor, one hun
dred sheep, and ten camels. Sahsah thanked him and returned to his mother. She cried out in joy, covering his face with kisses.

  * * *

  —

  During one of Sahsah’s sleepless nights, he interrupted his forlorn reverie of poetry by calling for a woman who he knew waited on Layla. He related his story to her, concluding, “Here’s what I want you to do. Go to her and tell her how miserable I am.”

  The servingwoman was sympathetic. She walked to Layla’s tent and told her of Sahsah’s longing. When Layla heard of his love, she could no longer hide her heartache. She waited until everyone had gone to sleep, and then she went out wrapped in a black cloak. She slipped into Sahsah’s tent. Seeing him lying somewhere between slumber and waking, she went near and kissed him between his eyes. He opened his eyes and gazed at her. His liver almost split from joy, and he fainted momentarily. When he came to, his heart was beating madly. He blurted out in verse:

  A visitor came to my tent,

  One long awaited

  On seeing her,

  My heart melted.

  Together they cried and complained of their love until morning came and Layla, fearing discovery, returned secretly to her tent.

  Sahsah muttered to himself:

  My nights usually stretch on endlessly

  Only when she visits, they fly by!

  What a short night:

  It passed straight from dinner to dawn!

  Somehow, Layla’s father learned of her visit to Sahsah. Furious, he strode into Layla’s quarters, his sword drawn. But his wife intervened, saying, “By God, my cousin, if you kill her, all the tongues of the Arabs will run. Be patient. Perhaps God almighty will ordain his end some other way: the brave die young.” He knew she spoke the truth, so he kept his peace, but death loomed before his eyes.

  The next day, Sahsah told his mother that he would go out and earn the favor of Layla’s father by seeking his fortune. His mother, fearing for his safety, discouraged him from pursuing Layla, but he was determined. He sent the servingwoman again to Layla to inform her of his departure and to ask her to pray for him and to wish him farewell, even if only by saying salam.

  The servingwoman went to Layla to relay the message. Layla said, “Return to him, and tell him to wait for me tonight. I will find a way.”

  When Sahsah heard the message, he sat down to watch the stars. His worries played with his mind until sleep overcame him. When he felt Layla’s presence, he jumped to his feet. She teased him, “Sahsah, if you were really in love, sleep would not close your eyes.”

  Embarrassed by her chiding, he replied, “By God, sweetheart, I only sleep to see your image in my dreams.” She came near and kissed him on his forehead. They embraced each other, talking until morning. Layla returned to her home after wishing him farewell.

  Sighing, Sahsah said to the dawn,

  I had a visitor

  Her lips like a fiery rose

  Her embrace soothed my desire

  Her cheek laying upon mine

  The morning parted us,

  Like a sword removed from its sheath.

  When she returned home, some of Layla’s servingwomen noticed her arrival and informed her father. He became so angry that the pupils of his eyes seemed to glow red. Again, he drew his sword to kill his daughter, but his wife confronted him: “What’s the matter with you, Cousin?” He repeated what the servingwomen said. His wife responded, “Cousin, he could be making up poetry about anyone. Anyway, as long as Sahsah is out riding, he will likely be killed before long.” He knew the truth of what she said, sheathed his sword, and went out.

  Sahsah remained away for five days, until he was burning with longing. He spent the days hunting alone and reciting poetry about Layla. Then he returned to his mother, his horse loaded with wild animals, gazelles, and rabbits, and she prepared a meal for him. When he could wait no longer, he sent for the servingwoman and asked her to send Layla his love and inform her that he had something to tell her.

  Layla replied, “Return to him and tell him to wait for me until half the night has passed.” The servingwoman conveyed the message, and Sahsah waited expectantly. When Layla arrived, Sahsah stood and met her at the door of the tent. They kissed, and then she told him what happened with her father and how he drew his sword on her and wanted to kill her.

  Sahsah was impressed by her strength of heart and said, “Layla, I’ve resolved to drive livestock from the surrounding tribes until I can come with female and male camels to ask your father for you in front of everybody.”

  Layla cried and said, “Cousin, don’t put yourself in danger. The sickness of love may catch up with you, and I would miss you. Wait until God presents a way. As the proverb says, ‘The one who waited was able, and the one who hurried was sorry.’ ” Sahsah said, “Cousin, sometimes one must wade into the tumult and put oneself in danger for better or worse. May the One who tests us with separation bless us by bringing us together.” When the night ended, Layla stood and bid Sahsah farewell, and both of them cried. After Layla left, Sahsah mounted his horse. His mother called out to him to deter him, but he did not hear her.

  Sahsah went out into the wilderness, reciting his poetry, traveling night and day. He ate the gazelles that he hunted and drank the water of brooks for six days. On the seventh day, he came upon a land of great wealth and herds. He rejoiced at the number of female and male camels—there were about three thousand.

  Moving with the swiftness the Kilabi tribe was known for, Sahsah beheaded the nearest guard and told the others to begin driving the herds. Then twenty mounted warriors approached from behind, with a leader as fierce as a lion. The leader shouted at Sahsah, threatening him. Sahsah defied him, and the leader recognized in him a bravery like that of the hero ʿAntar and a sense of virtue like that of ʿAli.5 It so happened that the leader at the head of the twenty riders was Ghatruf, who ruined Sahsah’s father, Jundaba. He was riding Muzna, Jundaba’s legendary horse. When Ghatruf saw Sahsah, it was like the removal of a veil: he recognized the strength of his former enemy in this newcomer. When Sahsah overcame Ghatruf, he unknowingly avenged his father’s death.

  * * *

  —

  Sahsah arrived in a flurry of excitement. He presented his uncle with the spoils of the raid: horses, male and female camels, and countless gifts. His uncle was impressed with Sahsah for having renewed the position of Bani Kilab by avenging his father. He was also taken aback by Sahsah’s rising fortune and worried that Sahsah’s aggression would cause Ghatruf’s tribe to attack, but they did not.

  One day, when Sahsah was out riding Muzna, ʿAttaf followed him into the wild. ʿAttaf wore chain mail and carried a sword made of Indian steel. As he crept up behind Sahsah, a lion leapt out at him from the underbrush. It knocked him over, pinning him to the ground. Sahsah heard a scream and turned to see someone in peril. He ran toward the man, drawing his sword. When the lion saw Sahsah approaching, it let out a roar that shook the earth and moved away from ʿAttaf, pouncing on Sahsah.

  With his sword, Sahsah struck the lion between the eyes, and the lion fell to the ground. Sahsah approached the lion’s victim, still lying prone on the ground. When he uncovered the man’s face, he recognized his uncle, and then he knew that his uncle had followed him, intending to kill him.

  Sahsah removed his uncle’s armor and carried him to a nearby stream. He washed his uncle’s face and hands. A breeze brushed ʿAttaf’s face, and he opened his eyes to see Sahsah sitting in front of him. He saw the lion lying nearby and felt a rush of shame.

  “I’m sorry, my boy. My anger is spent. Forgive me: I left this morning with one idea in my head, but God has shown me how wrong I was. I’ve been a fool.”

  Sahsah sighed. “I have always been a loyal member of your household, living under your protection. If your soul is suspicious of me, here, take my sword. You can tell them that Bani Ta
yy finished me off. I wish you no harm. All I want is to be with Layla. I love her.”

  ʿAttaf shivered. “My boy, let me sleep a bit.” He put the chain mail under his head and closed his eyes. After a few moments, Sahsah lay down not far from his uncle and closed his eyes as well. He dreamed of Layla. When he woke, he murmured,

  Layla’s image came to me by day

  She embraced me, and went away

  She said, Sleep

  Wherever I go, she is with me

  Our hearts are as one

  Her face such a vision.

  ʿAttaf, awake, heard his nephew’s words and was struck by the young man’s creativity and passion. He said, “I must see you two married, and celebrate with you. It is meant to be. I entrust her to you, and I will never stand between you again.” Tears of joy welled up in ʿAttaf’s eyes. “Let’s go home and tell the others.”

  Sahsah bowed his head, overwhelmed by this sudden turn of events. “May we make you proud,” he said.

  By the time they had returned home, ʿAttaf had come to genuinely like Sahsah. Many adventures ensued before the marriage finally took place. By that time, Sahsah had become a great leader, in service of the Umayyad caliph Marwan. He called together the leaders of the other tribes and provided them with a banquet that comprised one hundred camels and one thousand sheep. Then he officially proposed to Layla, requesting her hand in marriage from his uncle ʿAttaf, in front of all those gathered. The marriage contract was signed, and many gifts were bestowed and largess distributed in celebration of the occasion. That night, Sahsah entered Layla’s tent.

  The next morning, Sahsah and Layla joined their guests for another meal before bidding the travelers farewell. Not one guest departed without wishing the couple well.

  FATIMA UPROOTED1

  Before Sahsah’s granddaughter became Dhat al-Himma, the famed warrior woman, she was merely Fatima. And before she became heroic, she had to endure some of the greatest challenges of her era. It happened like this. . . .

 

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