Empires of Faith

Chapter 33: Memories of Conflict

29 Sha'baan, 1663

"Tell us another story," young Abdur-Rahman cheerfully requested of his grandfather, Abbas. The two, along with a pre-teen Nizaam, had gone hunting for quails in a large field area just outside of the village. With his bow and several arrows, Abbas had managed to catch two quails within an hour's journey. Things had gone smoothly thus far and it was time to return to the village so that the birds could be plucked and prepared for a meal. In the mellow tone of things, Abbas had decided to share with his grandsons some of the wisdom he'd learned over the ages.

"Alright then," the old man chuckled, stroking his gray beard in consideration. "This is a story of a man walking through a jungle. As he went about his way, a roaring lion ran towards him, and the man ran as fast as he could to escape from it. He noticed a well in front of him and he jumped inside, hoping to escape from the lion. As he was falling inside the well, he grabbed onto a rope and saved himself. The man was quite relieved, but when he looked down he discovered a large snake at the bottom of the well. It had its jaws wide open, ready to swallow him up. The man then looked up and saw two mice near the rope. A black mouse and a white mouse were both chewing into the rope. Meanwhile, the scary lion was still prowling outside the well. The man's heart was pounding as he wondered how he could escape from this. Then he noticed a honeycomb in front of him, which had sweet honey dripping from it. He stuck his finger into the honey and put it inside his mouth. It was delicious, and for a moment he forgot about the lion, the snake and the two mice chewing at the rope."

"Did he ever get out?" Abdur-Rahman asked. Abbas looked to the boy with a smile, and he did the same to Nizaam, who'd also been carefully following along. Nizaam raised an eyebrow as if to ask the very same question. Abbas gripped the walking stick in his hand and took a few more steps, remaining silent to leave them to ponder for themselves. The two looked to one another and shrugged before marching on up ahead to their grandfather's side. He smiled and carried on speaking.

"Imam Al-Ghazali explained that the lion is like the Angel of Death, which is always looming over us. The snake was like the grave, which all humans will inevitably face. The black mouse and white mouse were like the day and night, which are always nibbling at our life, the rope. The honey was like this Dunya, which, with its momentary sweetness, makes us forget the death and the eternal life afterwards. So now you tell me, did he ever escape? Will any of us ev-"

"Well now," a raspy voice spoke out from the tall vegetation that surrounded the path. "What do we have here?" The shrubs were separated as six youths emerged onto the path, all holding sticks and stones. Their clothes were of blues and reds, tattered and torn. Their complexions were tanned from the sun, some darker than the others. The baldness of their heads and the accent in which they spoke were dead giveaways; these were Kwaadi boys.

"Looks like a couple of dust-faces," one of the darker Kwaadi boys sneered. The foremost of the boys, tall and lean with a few missing teeth, stepped forth. He crossed his arms and looked down on Abbas and his grandsons. Abbas glared back, while inconspicuously guiding his grandsons to stand behind him. Abdur-Rahman worriedly grabbed onto his side, while Nizaam only gripped the bow he was carrying in his hands.

"What are you doing out in Kwaadi lands?" the lead boy asked Abbas. "You dust-face Muslims don't belong here."

"These lands are unclaimed," Abbas answered back, his voice strong but nonthreatening. "We have every right to be here."

"Hm, is that so? That wasn't part of the agreement."

"There is no agreement."

"Precisely. So then what's to stop me and my companions from bashing your skulls in and doing away with you for good? Your God?"