"But then," he sighed, "what are we to do when so many pilgrims hope to die and be buried in this blessed territory?!"
In my own mind I resented such people, but what I loathed even more was the idea of those nasty, murderous thugs who waylaid pilgrims-may their efforts and pilgrimages find no such blessings! For a few moments my companion said nothing, as though he were preparing to tell me something momentous, the real reason for summoning me. The gist of it was that every indication suggested that Al-Malik Al-Zahir Baybars was planning to perform the pilgrimage this year. He therefore encouraged me to take all necessary precautions and to avoid all the usual hiding places, beginning in Dhu al-Qa`da until such time as the danger was past. That was particularly necessary, he went on, because Baybars had learned the identity of the author of the letter of fealty to the Hafsid caliph, al-Mustansir.
I calmed the governor's concerns about my precautions and plans, offered him my prayers of thanks, and then left with a show of determination.
So here we were in the first day of the month of Jamadi al-Akhira in the year 667 AH [1269 CE]; in other words, five months or less before Baybars would arrive. I decided to spend the time between my residence, the Hira' Cave, and Abraham's Shrine. At times I would be instructing students, while at others I preferred to be alone and spend the time in pleasant contemplation. When I returned to the Meknesi residence, it was to find Yasir waiting for me. He indicated Sitt Umama, who was awaiting my return in the garden. No sooner had I moved toward her than she jumped up, kissed my shoulder, and offered me condolences on the death of my wife, her voice full of sadness. In order to calm her down, I offered her my thanks, then led her back to where she had been sitting. I asked her how she was, but her only response was to lean over-her eyes still filled with copious tears-and to tell me, "God help you, Sir, in the loss of your beloved wife. Only someone who has also lost an irreplaceable loved one can truly appreciate the pain you must feel. Promise to take me to her grave so that I can beg God's mercy on her pure soul. If you agree, then let it be soon, the last Friday of this month." I signaled my acceptance of her suggestion, then accompanied her to the door, feeling deeply affected.
Immediately after dawn on the appointed day, I charged Ghaylan with accompanying the lady on the caravan to `Aydab, while I would join them at the cemetery in that unlucky town. Thus it came about that, just a few hours later, we were standing together at the graveside of my beloved wife, Fayha', begging God to have mercy on her and praying fervently. When it was time to go back, my female companion asked for a little more time. I watched in amazement as she proceeded to throw herself on the grave, embrace it fervently, and utter uncontrollable sobs, moistening the soil with copious tears. At the same time she kept repeating typically Egyptian prayers, the like of which I had never heard before. For a few moments, Ghaylan and I just stood there, mouths agape, not knowing what to do. At that point the sun was right overhead and beating down on us. The lady now begged me to let her spend the night in the company of Fayha' and her pure spirit, but I firmly rejected the idea. I stood her up, clasped her to me, and headed for the exit so as to put a distance between her and the grave. She kept on crying, but then fell silent. At the cemetery gate I handed her over to Ghaylan to take back to Mecca and the Muwaffaq hostel. Meanwhile I mounted my horse. In the light of what had happened on this truly amazing morning, I let both it and my emotions have free rein.
Before the end of Rajab, what had been becoming more and more likely actually happened. Using a dogged insistence that was impossible to resist, both Yasir and Ghaylan urged me to act-namely to marry Sitt Umama in accordance with all the rituals enjoined by the faith, God, and his Prophet. The whole thing was done with a minimum of fuss or ceremony so as to reflect the more intimate joys implicit in the occasion. The actual ceremony of the wedding night took place at my residence, and a day later the bride moved to a life of security beneath my own roof. There I spent a period of almost two months in her amiable company. When the month of Ramadan was almost at an end, I suggested that we spend the festival period at Solomon's Spring, although I did not explain to her what was the real reason, the compulsory factor, that required me to go there. She seemed pleased by the idea and readily agreed.
Just before we left, I told Yasir why I needed to get out of Mecca. He swore to keep my secret to himself and to take care of my residence. I asked him to purchase a mule for my wife, put some of my own belongings on his own riding animal, and ride with her to a place he knew well. I would go ahead of them a little way. Yasir realized the purpose of the plan and agreed to make the necessary arrangements so things were as safe as possible. And that is precisely what happened-all thanks be to God as is due!
I was delighted to be back once again with the Maghribi peasants and staying in Al-Shushtari's hut. I was equally delighted that Sitt Umama was with me as both wife and companion. I was happy to see how much she enjoyed the orchards and the generous people who maintained them. I told Hamada the Zanati, their leader, and his confidants that I had married Umama and gave them a few details about my new wife. They all congratulated me and offered their blessings on our marriage. They then took both Sitt Umama and myself to a big tent with furniture and all kinds of coverings. News of my marriage soon reached the women, and they arrived to take Sitt Umama away to their own quarters, about which men know absolutely nothing.
On the Night of the Festival itself, I caught the sounds of women singing poems and ululating, then watched in the candlelight and lamplight as they encircled my wife and in sight of everyone led her to my tent to the accompaniment of blessings and expressions of joy. At the threshold of the tent, they all sang and danced. The point of all this, I gathered, was that they were bringing Sitt Umama to me as a pure, new bride in accordance with their customs. My assumption proved correct in that, no sooner had they left us alone, than the tent flap was lowered and they all departed quietly.
Sitting by my side, my new wife was almost dizzy with the overflow of emotion and bashfulness. Her full body was regaled in a flowing white gown that exuded a gentle warmth and a lovely musky scent. Her lovely face was glowing; it was as though the women had used some holy waters to recreate her beauty anew, so that this woman from Egypt had responded willingly to the hands of the women from the Maghrib. All praise be to God for his beneficence and generosity!
The second wedding night was even better than the first!
All praise to the One who can reinvigorate the veins after they have atrophied and revive the senses when they have grown lethargic! You can bear witness, Sitt Umama, can you not, that I have not forgotten my share of this lower world, as the Lord of mankind has commanded and recommended…
Next morning my wife woke me up very gently, albeit with the help of the cock's crow and the sound of activity outside our tent. Both of us looked incredibly happy.
We both took deep breaths and ingested the fragrance of plants and crops all around us. After washing ourselves and doing the ritual ablutions, we prayed the dawn prayer, then made ready to join the rest of the group and participate in the festival celebrations. While I headed for the men's group and their leader, Hajj Hamada, some women arrived to take Sitt Umama off to their section. The men all offered me their heartiest congratulations and good wishes, then insisted that I had to sacrifice a lamb that they were offering as a celebration of my marriage and my presence among them. All I could do was to accept their offer, and I did so amidst a positive hail of shouts of "God be praised" from the men and ululations from the women, while the children made their own din.