by The Tale of Princess Fatima, Warrior Woman- The Arabic Epic of Dhat al-Himma (retail) (epub)
“Liar! Who is coming to your rescue?” That silenced the prisoners.
When evening arrived, the king said to Shumadris, “Enough torture. We have had no word from my general. We would have received glad tidings by now if we were victorious. I am concerned for my army and have decided to go back and lead them.” He went to his horse, mounted, and rode away, until he happened upon the amira.
* * *
—
When the amira saw the king’s approach that night, she smiled and directed her followers to attack. In the midst of the fray, she noticed the king’s unsightly face and recognized him as the leader. Their swords met, and they both saw the mettle of the other. She struck him from his horse, her hand moving swiftly to his middle to pin him down. He lay there, as helpless as an infant, and her soldiers halted at the sound of her voice. Seeing the enemy leader at her mercy, her soldiers took heart and routed the remaining enemy soldiers.
The amira returned to her army, fearing their fate if she extended her absence. Noting the fine horses with gold-studded tack, her soldiers asked who the prisoner was, and she told them, “A great king of the Rum.” Then she called out to her soliders, “What are you waiting for? Show them what you are made of!” And she too made her way to the battlefield.
The king’s general was attempting to encourage his troops: “Fight like ʿAyn al-Masih himself were here with us!”
“Hey, Nazarene dogs,” called the amira, “I just finished off every last commander that was with your king. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself!” They saw their king being held prisoner and rushed forward to free him. The amira’s army held their ground, and the two armies fought. Time passed in the blink of an eye, and the Rum were soundly defeated. The amira’s army collected the spoils: livestock, wealth, and tents. What remained of the Rum army repaired to nearby castles, some making their way to Nura’s cloister to inform her. The amira brought along ʿAyn al-Masih, saying, “If you hurt one hair of the men you are holding prisoner, I will cut you to pieces!”
ʿAyn al-Masih said, “Your son and his companions are well. Bishop Shumadris advised me to execute them, but my daughter intervened.” The amira took note of this, mulling it over until they arrived at the cloister. She arrived with one hundred commanders of the Rum taken prisoner, among them the king.
* * *
—
When the king had departed, Shumadris went to Nura and said, “I outrank you, and I expect you to do as I say.”
“Father, what is it that you advise me to do?”
“Take the prisoners to the castle with me at once. There are two benefits to this: first, you will ensure their security; second, we will ensure our own security.”
“You seem unduly concerned. After all, I’m clearly capable of capturing them.”
“Princess, not one of these men has an equal in their entire army, and they have the mother of the Black amir on their side. It behooves you to take them to the castle.”
“Very well, I shall humor you.” Nura gave orders to her twenty ladies-in-waiting to prepare for departure. All of them were daughters of commanders of the Rum, and all of them had learned martial and equestrian arts, including combat training. Each of them rode at the head of one thousand soldiers, and Nura rode in front of all of them. They all mounted Arabian horses, wearing their swords, and they loaded the prisoners onto mules.
At the castle, Nura’s company met a large group of soldiers from her father’s defeated army.
“What happened?”
“We were caught in a tight spot. So many didn’t make it. They captured your father.”
Nura looked horrified. “How could they overpower the king? Did he fall from his horse?”
“No, a warrior toppled him from his saddle and took him prisoner. He was like a bird in the hands of that warrior.”
“If we had stayed in the convent, it would not have ended well for us,” mused Shumadris.
“It’s too late to set out tonight,” said Nura. “Come into the castle with us for now. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go show them what we’re made of.” She spent the night strategizing.
ʿAbdelwahhab was relieved to hear of the king’s capture, since it meant he might be released. Shumadris had imprisoned him and his companions in one of the castle’s numerous underground storage rooms. Al-Battal was dreamily contemplating Nura’s face, but the others had learned their lesson. “May we never see that face again!”
Al-Battal just said, “Torture with that fine lady is a pleasure.”
* * *
—
The next morning, Shumadris advised Nura to leave the castle directly, without checking in on the prisoners. “And if they want to trade hostages, let them have the Black one in exchange for your father. Then you can still kill the others. Whatever you do, avoid that woman of theirs. She’s doubtless the one who captured your father, knocking him from his saddle.”
“If so, then I must take revenge on her and her cronies. After all, the Rum are going to hear how I dealt with this. We must make an example of them.”
When the command was given to open the castle’s outer gate, more defeated soldiers were found gathered outside. After they entered, there were nearly twenty thousand defeated soldiers in the castle. Nura was stunned at the state of her army.
* * *
—
At dawn, the amira made her way to the cloister, only to find it abandoned by all but the monks themselves. Some of the warriors wanted to kill them in revenge, but the amira would not allow it. She said, “The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, forbade the killing of monks living a cloistered life.” She continued to the castle, dismounting at the edge of the Meadow of Saffron. There she assessed the castle before her. It was built of red stone resembling agate, and this is how it came to be named the Blood Castle. The walls were impossible to scale.
Nura looked out and saw Princess Fatima’s warriors. Impatient, she called for the door to be opened: “I’ve got to go down there and face them!”
Shumadris replied, “If you must go down, then I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“Send a message first to their amira, saying: ‘I am a woman like you. I’m coming down to face you one-on-one, and may God give victory to the best of us.’ Then let me go down behind you.” Nura did as he suggested.
The amira received her message and waited until Nura opened the castle door. Nura emerged with all the people of her castle, and Shumadris, fearing for his life, escaped through a back route with five hundred soldiers. Nura and her companions wore full armor, including Hindi swords, golden pikes, and silk sashes. Nura was a sight that could distract any man, and her eyes could pierce the heart of any hero. Behind her were rows of soldiers. Her commanders were confident, knowing that she was braver and more highly trained than her father. The amira faced her, with rows of soldiers behind her as well.
An armed rider came forth from among Nura’s retinue. The horse was a pale palomino, the color of a golden cloud. It walked onto the training field, halting in the center. The rider called out loudly, “Today we sort the brave from the foolish!”
The rider was Dakna, one of Nura’s companions. From the other side, a warrior named Tawq rode forward to meet her. Dakna overcame him in the blink of an eye, and a second warrior stepped forward. Dakna finished off him, too. She captured the third and fourth warriors, and then people started to avoid a turn with her. Farqad of the Kilabis stepped forward next. He was considered equivalent to one thousand Rumi warriors. They attacked each other, and the earth below them shook. Farqad shouted, having closed in on Dakna. Grabbing her arm, he hoisted her from her saddle, then noticed that she was a woman. His heart flip-flopped. He handed her over to his comrades and turned back to the training ground. A rider approached like the Final Judgment. Her name was Zura.
Their swords struck, seeming hotter than coals. E
ach of them circled the other, willing to wait for the right opening. The dust rose around them, and they disappeared from sight. Zura struck Farqad on the neck, and his head flew to the side, his soul speeding to Paradise. His comrades looked on in horror and resolve.
Zura fought on, capturing every warrior who approached her. When she had captured twelve, the celebrated amir Bashar stepped forward. His arrogance had weakened him. Yet he had just watched his son Farqad lose his life and was determined to take on the one who had dispatched him. He had hesitated due to his old age, but when the number of fighters willing to fight Zura dwindled, he moved his horse forward and uttered several lines of verse in honor of his son. He attacked Zura and killed her. Then Nura stepped forward and fought until day’s end.
That evening, Princess Fatima asked her comrades, “Did you see how Nura fought?”
“She is a strong warrior, with a face like a crescent moon! And those eyes! They can enchant hearts and take off heads!”
“I didn’t have a chance to fight her today, but hopefully tomorrow. . . .”
* * *
—
Nura’s yellow silk pavilion was set up, complete with a bed fashioned from Chinese metalwork. That evening she said to her people, “I had no idea the Muslims could fight like that. They have no fear! They give great effort, but I killed sixteen of them today.”
“Your Majesty, may the Messiah strengthen you, if you see the Red Warrior on the Red Steed, know that he was the cause of many heroes’ deaths. You will know him from the tight veil covering his face.”
“You are probably describing the amira Dhat al-Himma. I looked for her today in the melee but did not see her. Tomorrow I hope to challenge her, and then you can judge for yourselves!” With this, the gathering broke up. Everyone made their way to bed, except Shumadris. He went to the dungeon to torture the captives.
The amir ʿAbdelwahhab said, “Enough! What goes around comes around. He who does not consider the consequences of his actions will have no friend in fate.”
Shumadris replied, “By the truth of your religion, if I fell into your hands, I would have no future. But if I have any say in it, you will not leave here to see the light of day!”
Al-Battal asked, “And what are you going to do, you scum, if the amira bests Nura? She would never leave us as hostages. She won’t even leave you the castle!”
* * *
—
Morning dawned on the soldiers, and they prepared for battle. The horses of both camps grew increasingly alert, and the two sides lined up, facing each other. At that moment, a rider emerged from among the Rum on a muscular, athletic horse with a neck that was long, graceful, and strong. The rider wore a rose gold coat of mail decorated with pearls and other jewels. On the rider’s head was a rounded, jeweled helmet, and in the rider’s right hand was a spear. The horse halted between the two lines, and the rider lifted the helmet to reveal a face with cheeks like rose petals and a mouth like a gold ring. She spoke in a rich voice: “Arab peoples, your lives are forfeited. I am Nura, daughter of King ʿAyn al-Masih. I have your amir and his companions. If you want to save the hostages, free ʿAyn al-Masih, and I will free your amir in exchange. If you prefer to fight, then send out the amira Dhat al-Himma, who is supposed to be so brave and skillful. If I beat her, then you may flee. If she beats me, then I will have been the means to an end.”
Princess Fatima made her way resolutely to the fighting square. She rode a fine horse, as black as night, and wore Davidian armor through which no sword could penetrate. She carried a long spear in one hand, a burnished blade in the other. Her forearm shone with sweat.
They attacked each other, their voices ringing, until the ground shook beneath them. When their spears snapped, they turned to their swords. When those had grown blunt, they dismounted and started circling each other. They saw in each other a combination of qualities they had never seen in others: strategy, strength, power, and an unwavering foundation.
One of the amira’s soldiers lost his head, enamored of Nura’s beauty. He approached the amira from behind, throwing rocks between her legs, hoping to trip her and make her fall. Anger washed over the amira’s face. She maneuvered herself near the errant soldier, kicking him in his thigh. He fell over, his legs in the air.
The amira returned to Nura, roaring. She rushed at her, lifting her from the ground. The Rum looked on, fearing for their leader, held aloft by her enemy. Each of them wanted to rescue her, but they were preoccupied by the enemy soldiers rushing toward them. Each pair of fighters locked into combat. When it became clear that the Rum were losing, they ran for the castle, but their enemies followed close behind. The Rum leaped onto horses to save themselves and find reinforcements.
Shumadris, seeing this turn of events, opened the castle door for the first of the Rum to arrive, then shut it before the enemy soldiers could enter. He ordered the soldiers on the towers to hurl stones at those below. They did so and were horrified to see that they had hit many of the Rum as well as the enemy.
The Muslims captured one thousand of the Rum soldiers. Princess Fatima led Nura to the camp of the Arabs. She observed how the men in her service lost control of themselves in Nura’s presence. Reuniting Nura with her father, Princess Fatima instructed her, “All that remains are the hostages. Send to the castle now for all of them to be released. In exchange, I will release you and those we have captured, including your father. Then you can choose: you can give me access to the castle peacefully, or I can take it by force.”
The king said to Nura, “My daughter, just exchange the hostages. She could never take our castle: It’s too tall and well fortified.”
“Dhat al-Himma, free ten of my commanders so I can send them to Shumadris in the castle. I will order him to free the amir and his companions.” The amira did as asked, and the commanders approached the castle. Shumadris, seeing the situation, took a sword and descended to the dungeon.
“The monk is here,” said Al-Battal.
“I’m here to take off your heads!” exclaimed Shumadris.
“Great news,” intoned Abu l-Hazahiz.
It so happened (as God had ordained) that Al-Battal had loosened his bonds before Shumadris’s arrival. He whispered to Abu l-Hazahiz, “I managed to loosen my ties. If he had come just a little later, I could have loosened yours, too! As it is, I don’t see how we’re going to get out of this!”
“Give it to me,” said Abu l-Hazahiz. Al-Battal handed him the shackle.
Shumadris made his way first to ʿAbdelwahhab, and lifted his sword. Maymun moved to intercept it, and it landed on his shoulder, wounding him. Shumadris raised his sword again, and Abu l-Hazahiz hit him on the head with Al-Battal’s shackle. At that moment, the commanders that Nura had sent arrived in the dungeon. They drew their swords on the prisoners, wounding three of them. Abu l-Hazahiz wrested Shumadris’s sword from him and lifted it, but the commanders warned him, “If you kill him, you will certainly lose your life.”
Al-Battal said, “Let him go, Abu l-Hazahiz.”
The Rum commanders led Shumadris upstairs. They were concerned to see him close to fainting, and sprinkled cold water on his face until he became alert again.
“Who did this to you?”
“The prisoners.”
They drew their swords and moved toward the dungeon, but some held them back, saying, “What are you doing? They have the princess, the king, and one thousand of our soldiers.” Instead they opened the castle gates and returned to Nura, informing her of what had happened.
“Free me now,” Nura requested of Princess Fatima, so that she could go to Shumadris before he passed away. “I will send the hostages to you.” Princess Fatima let her go.
When Al-Battal saw Nura, he forgot himself and said, “Greetings, dear princess!”
Nura ordered the guards: “Let the blond, blue-eyed one out. We’ll exchange him for my father.”
“They won’t exchange him for me, My Lady,” said Al-Battal. “Let the amir go, and the wounded men, Maymun and Abu l-Hazahiz.”
When ʿAbdelwahhab, Maymun, and Abu l-Hazahiz arrived at the Arab camp, Princess Fatima released the king.
When the king arrived at the castle, Nura released Al-Battal and Tariq. Tariq arrived at the Arab camp, and Princess Fatima released one hundred of the Rum soldiers. “What about Al-Battal?” she asked. “Is she holding him back?”
“No,” said Tariq. “She told him to leave, but he refused. He wants to stay with her.” Princess Fatima continued releasing companies of Rum soldiers until two hundred commanders remained with her.
“Go on. Get out!” Nura said to Al-Battal. “So we can rescue our remaining commanders.”
“Princess, I’m staying here to serve you.”
“I want neither you nor your service. Get out, you wretch!”
“I will not get out.”
Nura turned to her soldiers. “Get the wretch out, or he’ll probably rob us tonight!”
The soldiers set to removing him, but he always managed to return to the castle. Nura laughed at him and even spit on his face, but he simply opened his mouth and caught it, saying, “Delicious!”
Finally, the soldiers threw him out of the castle, and he made his way to the amira. When she saw him, she released the last of the Rum prisoners. Then she called for a meeting of the amirs, only to find that three of them had been lost in battle. She saw that Maymun was injured and turned to her son. “What were you doing? Did you come to this land for pleasure or for battle?”
“I swear, I was acting for our collective benefit.”
Al-Battal interjected, “Amira, go easy on him. No one who saw that lady could remain in full control.”