Mother of the Believers Part 7

"Umar! Are you all right? You look feverish."

Umar stared at the little fellow with irritation. He was not about to be distracted from his mission by this silly fool.

"I burn with the fire of justice."

Nuaym raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

"What are you talking about?"

There was no harm in telling him. He was a member of his own clan and could be trusted. And if Umar did not emerge alive from the house, Nuaym would tell the other sons of the Bani Adi to sing songs of his heroism.

"Today I have sworn a vow to kill that heretic Muhammad and end this sedition in our city."

Nuaym's mouth fell open in shock.

"Are you mad? The Bani Hashim will kill you in retaliation!"

Umar shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling like two mountains in an earthquake.

"So be it."

Nuaym put a friendly hand on his clansmen's arm as if to pull him away from this madness.

"Come, let us return to my house," he said brightly. "The heat of the day makes it hard to think wisely. We can talk about this over a cold drink in the shade."

Umar removed Nuaym's hand, squeezing the fingers painfully in warning.

"Get out of my way, old friend."

"Umar, listen to reason-"

Umar gabbed Nuaym by his collar and lifted the small man off his feet until their eyes met.

"No! I have sworn a vow to set things right today, and no man can stop me."

He dropped his clansman and turned back to face the house. Unsheathing his sword, he pushed open the gate.

"If you wish to set things right, you should look closer to home!"

Umar froze. Slowly, like a stubborn boulder finally giving way under the force of an avalanche, he turned to face Nuaym.

When Umar spoke, his voice was soft. But there was an edge there that was more terrifying than the roar of a thousand charging elephants.

"What are you saying?"

Nuaym looked deeply frightened, but he managed to meet Umar's gaze. He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the sword that now glittered lethally in the a.s.sa.s.sin's hand.

"Your sister Fatima is one of them."

Umar's eyes went wide. Of all the possible things that Nuaym could have said, this was the one he had not expected.

"You lie!" Umar's sword began to rise into attack position.

"She has embraced Muhammad and follows his path. Ask her yourself."

Umar's face turned bright red. He stepped forward and for a moment Nuaym believed the sword would soon slice open his neck. Umar bent down until his face was right next to his clansman and Nuaym could see the redness that ringed his dark eyes.

"If you are spreading calumny against my family, your blood will join Muhammad's on my sword."

And then, without another word, Umar turned and stormed down the path toward his sister's home.

Nuaym fell to his knees and buried his head in his hands, grateful to still be alive. At that moment, I emerged from the shadows of the alley where I had been secretly watching Umar's approach.

I walked over to Nuaym and saw that he was shaking. Not knowing what else to do, I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Nuaym started at my touch, half expecting that Umar had returned to finish him off. When he saw it was just me, he breathed deeply to calm himself. And then he took my hand in his. I could feel the cold dampness on his palm.

"Thank you, little one, for your warning."

Even though I was a child, I knew what Nuaym had done. He had run out of options, but I was still upset that he had betrayed Umar's sister Fatima, who had been a secret believer for the past year and had always been kind to me and my family.

"But Umar's sister-"

Nuaym shook his head, and I could see shame written on his gaunt features.

"I had no choice," he said, regret filling his voice. He stared down the path where Umar had charged off, still bearing his sword. "May G.o.d protect her from Umar's wrath."

10.

Fatima bint al-Khattab sat inside the small living quarters of her stone hut in the southern quarter of Mecca. She had covered her mousy brown hair with an indigo scarf that her brother Umar had given her for her wedding. Her husband, Said, knelt beside her, his head bowed reverently as she read from the leather hide that she had received that morning from Ali, containing words from the holy Qur'an that had just been revealed to the Messenger the night before.

She swayed back and forth like a candle rustling in the wind as the Words of G.o.d fell from her lips in the form of majestic poetry.

In the Name of G.o.d, the Merciful, the Compa.s.sionate.

Ta Ha.

It was not to distress you that We sent down the Qur'an to you But as a reminder for those who hold G.o.d in awe A Revelation from the One who created the Earth and the high Heaven The Lord of Mercy Established on the Throne.

Everything in the Heavens and on Earth Everything between them Everything beneath the soil Belongs to Him Whatever you may say aloud He knows what you keep secret And what is even more hidden.

G.o.d-there is no G.o.d but Him The most excellent Names belong to Him.

As she recited in her soft, melodic voice, she saw Said wipe tears from his eyes. She understood his emotion, although she had always kept a tight lid on expressing her own. A trait learned under the harsh hand of her father, al-Khattab, who brooked no weakness in his off-spring, whether male or female.

Said was so different from him and from her fiery brother, Umar. He had a gentle soul and was more comfortable playing with children and tending to sheep than engaging in the cruelties of war or the hunt. Other women might have thought him weak, but Fatima loved the softness of his heart. For a girl who had been raised in a house where anger was demonstrated more than love, his kindness and sweet touch were like the calm breeze that brought peace when a storm had subsided.

Said gently touched the cowhide parchment in her hands, stroking it like a lover. Like most men she knew, he could not read or write and relied on her to express the sounds that came with the strange lines and jots that he had never been taught to understand. Though Fatima had much bitterness toward her father for the roughness of her upbringing, she was grudgingly thankful that he had forced her and her brother to learn to read and write. Said had long felt ashamed that his wife was better educated than he, but when he discovered that the Messenger of G.o.d himself was illiterate and relied on his wife, Khadija, to read to him and write his correspondence, he had been comforted.

"What do those words mean at the beginning?" he asked. "Ta Ha. I've never heard that before."

"I don't know," she answered with a small shrug. "I asked Ali and he said they were sacred letters wrapped in mystery, and only G.o.d knew what they signified."

Said nodded. He was a simple man and he easily accepted that there were things that were beyond his comprehension. The fact that G.o.d was actually speaking to them right now, in their very city, through the mouth of Muhammad, was itself more than his mind could comprehend, and he had no desire to burden himself with deeper mysteries.

"Read it again," he said, and she nodded.

She began to recite again, letting the rhythm of the words flow through her. It was when believers read the holy Qur'an out loud that they were closest to G.o.d. The very words that the Lord of the Worlds had spoken vibrated through her being and lifted her soul.

But when she said the words "He knows what you keep secret," the stillness of her home was shattered and her heart jumped into her throat.

"Fatima! Fatima! Come out here!"

Umar's voice boomed from just beyond the door. Panic gripped her. Had her brother heard her recitation? She looked down at Said and saw that his rosy cheeks had drained of color as the same thought crossed his mind.

And then, without any further prompting, she realized that the end was at hand.

"He knows" was all she could say, her throat closing in on her in terror. Umar began to bang on the door and she knew she had no time to place the leather hide with the holy verses in its proper place, a silver jewelry box that she kept on the top shelf of their kitchen cupboard.

Even though she hated treating the Words of G.o.d without proper decorum, she had no choice but to slip the parchment inside her dark woolen tunic, close to her breast.

She squeezed Said's hand and took a deep breath, and then opened the door.

Umar stormed inside without any greeting, his face livid. She saw that he was carrying his sword in his hand and her stomach sank. Umar slammed the door behind him and then pushed up uncomfortably close to his sister, his weapon held in a steel grip.

"What was that gibberish I heard you reciting?" There was a dangerous rumble to his voice that Fatima recognized. It was the tremor before the earthquake was unleashed.

"We were just talking," she said with a small laugh that immediately sounded false to her.

Umar grabbed her by the arm with crushing strength.

"Don't lie to me!"

Said stepped forward. Although he was as terrified of Umar as his wife, he knew that his brother-in-law was violating every rule of Arab etiquette and he hoped that a stern call to honor would calm the brute.

"Who are you to come into our home and proclaim us liars?" he said with as much bravado as he could muster.

Umar looked at him incredulously, as if noticing him for the first time in his life. And then he raised his sword threateningly, the razor-sharp edge glistening in the morning light that poured in from the windows.

"I am a Guardian of the Kaaba who has sworn to kill any who follow Muhammad!"

In later years, Said would say that he had no idea where he had found the courage to stand up to Umar. But seeing the look of fear in the eyes of the woman he loved, she whose strength he always admired, set his blood on fire, and he took his hand and pushed the sword out of his way.

"You have lost your mind! Get out of my house!"

Umar was shocked at Said's sudden defiance, as men always are when those they a.s.sume are weak finally reveal a backbone.

"Tell me the truth!" he said, and Fatima could almost hear a desperate plea in his voice. And then when Said did not answer, Umar grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the room. Said fell against a table made of carved olive wood, which splintered with the force of his fall. Said dropped hard amid the jagged wreckage and lay there unmoving.

"No!" Fatima could hear herself scream, but it sounded strangely distant, as if echoing across a canyon in the barren wastes of the Najd to the east. Forgetting about her brother's sword, which could at any moment sever her head in the madness of fanaticism, she threw herself on Umar and slapped him ferociously.

Umar pushed her off him and she felt as if she had been grabbed by a dust devil and flung across the sky. And then her flight was cut short by a cold, cruel stone wall. She struck her head on the whitewashed rock and fell to her knees as lightning seared through her skull.

Fatima's eyes blurred and she felt as if warm water were flowing down her face. And then she realized it was blood. She touched her forehead and saw that her palm was stained in crimson.

Umar was looking at her, breathing hard, as if he had climbed high into the mountains. His eyes were fixed on the blood that flowed steadily from the cut just above her right eye.

Fatima saw that his sword was raised and she realized that the demon that had possessed him would soon kill her. She touched her breast and felt the comfort of the leather strip on which the verses of the holy Qur'an were written. If she was going to die, at least the she would meet her Maker with His Words embedded next to her heart.

"You want the truth? Then, yes! We are Muslims and we believe G.o.d and His Messenger! Go ahead! Kill me! Kill your sister like you did your own daughter!"

She did not know what madness possessed her to say the last, but Umar staggered as if he had just been struck by a spear in the gut. He dropped his sword, which fell to the ground with a clang that echoed relentlessly.

Umar sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands for a long moment. And then, when he finally looked up, there was confusion on his face, like a child awakening from a bad dream.

"What is this spell he has cast on you?" he asked, and she knew he referred to the Prophet.

She managed to get to her feet and stumbled over to check on Said. He was regaining consciousness and she helped him sit up slowly. After checking to make sure that no bones were broken, she finally turned to her brother.

"It is not a spell but a Revelation," she said softly as she found a clean rag and wiped the blood from her face. The blood had stopped flowing and had begun to clot. "G.o.d himself speaks through Muhammad, and His words can change men's hearts."

Umar looked at her for a long moment. When he spoke, there was weariness in his voice.

"Show me these words and let me judge for myself."

She looked into his eyes and saw no sign of the demon. Fatima hesitated, then reached into her blouse and removed the leather strip.

Umar held out his hand for the parchment, but she shook her head.

"Only the clean may touch the Word of G.o.d."

Umar saw that she was serious. He rose and took a jug of water from the kitchen. First he poured it over her wound and helped her wash away the rest of the blood that stained her cheek.

And he followed her instructions as she taught him wudu, wudu, the sacred ritual of ablution that Muslims performed before praying or reading the holy Qur'an. He washed his hands, face, and feet as she instructed. the sacred ritual of ablution that Muslims performed before praying or reading the holy Qur'an. He washed his hands, face, and feet as she instructed.