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When the time for the noon prayer arrived, I served as imam for them all in the open air. That done, we all moved to the chief's tent, where the festival feast had been laid out. Everyone took as much as they wanted; in fact, encouraged by my host, I ate more than I should, even though I made an effort to eat less by asking them all a variety of questions. I wanted to know where they all came from and what their ancestry was. I discovered that they were Arab Amazigh [Berbers] who through a process of intermarriage had become a single unified tribe, which explained why they came from various locations. I was told that some of them were from the fertile Moroccan coastal region, which explained why they were now living where they were and knew about plowing, crops, irrigation, and harvesting. They each took it in turn to address my curiosity by providing particular details, with their leader offering the most information of all.

For my part, I started reciting various Qur'anic verses and hadith relevant to the topics, duly explaining their significance in terms that they could understand. They offered praise to God and prayed also for his Prophet. They were equally complimentary about my own learning and the way I could invoke such a wide variety of knowledge and explain things so clearly. We continued in this fashion until the time for afternoon prayer arrived, which we all performed in a spirit of mutual affection and serenity. With that done, I asked Hajj Hamada's permission to rest.

There was no sign of my wife in my tent, and I fell into a long, deep sleep. When I eventually awoke, it was to find Sitt Umama by my side, softly whispering my name with affection and warmth. I gave her a hug, and she rested her head on my chest.

"The way these Moroccan women keep treating me with such warmth and generosity is truly amazing," she told me happily. "Here we both are, living with these wonderful people in these gorgeous pastoral surroundings! It feels as though I'm either a genuine princess in a dream or else in paradise!"

Those words of hers suddenly reminded me that I had been having a dream about our stay in this beauteous paradise. It had only been ruined when soldiers had arrived to take me away and kill me. I came back to my senses to hear my wife breathing deep sighs.

"You certainly are a real princess and more, dear lady!" I said.

"And you are my guide and the source of my good fortune!"

She sat down, lit the lamp, and then proceeded to show me the bottles of perfume, kohl, and new clothes that the Maghribi women had given her as gifts. She asked me if I was going to sit with the men and chat.

"No," I told her with affectionate longing, "tonight is our night. Tomorrow can wait."

When I woke up the next morning, my tongue was still moist from repeating the prayer that I must have invoked just before going to sleep and probably during it as welclass="underline" "0 God, the One, the Worshipped, please allow my wife to remain with me and do not bring a dire punishment."

This then was the way I managed to spend several wonderful days with my wife. She passed her time with the women and looking after me, while I spent mine looking after her and attending to the needs of the group-leading the prayers, chatting with them, offering advice on issues they raised, and teaching their children. I also spent some time alone, contemplating and reading some of the materials I had brought with me. I only wrote in my mind, using that invisible pen.

One morning at the beginning of Dhu al-Qa`da, my wife and I got up full of energy and went out for a walk in the surrounding fields. Here and there we spotted guard dogs, but they did not snarl or bark. Breathing in the pure air, we decided to extend our walk. As we passed by the animal pens, I started telling my wife about the lofty palm trees and their luscious fruit hanging down. I also described the other crops for her and detailed the beneficial health effects of each one. For her part, she kept praising the Creator and pointing out the vegetables and aromatic plants with their particular scents.

"Just look at the vegetables in front of us," she said, "and the carrots and cabbages over there. Eggplant as well! See the roses and ben, not to mention the myrtle, jonquil, and jasmine! My dear, how delightful are their scents and blossoms for both eye and nose, in fact all the senses combined!"

Like my delighted companion I could only marvel at the wonders of nature and be deeply affected by them.

"Umama," I said, "the essences of these plants and scents all aspire to their Creator, blossoming and flourishing so that they may receive wafts of divinity from light, dew, butterflies, and bees. Every single pulse you see comes only through the Spirit of the Truth."

We continued enjoying the magic of our stroll through nature till we had gone way beyond the hedgerows of figs and straw. Just then, two men caught up with us and asked us to go back the way we had come. The chief of the group was waiting for us. I left my wife and went over to greet him. His smiling response was mixed with a certain level of concern and aggravation. He accompanied me to my tent and sat down to have some breakfast. He handed me the present that he had been carrying under his arm: a brocade kaftan, a woolen undershirt, undergarments, headcloth, and shawl. I thought the gift was far too much, but I could do nothing but accept it. I thanked him and offered prayers for him, his family, and his tribe as a whole. I then asked him what the problem was.

"It's all fine, beloved of God," he replied kindly. "If you're not aware already that you're under my protection, then be aware of it now. Don't go outside the bounds of our territory, or else my guards will bring you back the way they did a few moments ago. If you want to go for a walk, it's better to take some of my men with you, but not your wife. My own shaykh, Al-Shushtari, committed you to my care, and the sharif of Mecca has also told me about your situation. My loyalty to both those men requires that I make sure that you are safe and sound."

I immediately understood what my breakfast companion was telling me, and promised to take all necessary precautions.

"Tell me, Hajj," I asked him, "has Sultan Baybars already arrived in Mecca, or not yet?"

"People say he's going to arrive either in the middle or toward the end of Dhu al-Qa`da. But his spies and agents have already arrived to make preparations for him to perform the pilgrimage and meet his other demands. He intends to grab the Hijaz and the holy territories and demand that the sharifs join his cause. He has also declared his intention of arresting you, holy man of God."

I was amazed that he knew so much about me. The only source of such information that I could think of was Governor Abu Numa or one of his confidants. My amazement was even greater when I heard him say the following:

"The contact between me and the governor is Yasir from Yemen, the warden of the Meknesi residence. A few days ago, Baybars's spies harassed him by asking a lot of questions about you. They did not get what they were looking for. He comes here in disguise either at night or by day to tell me anything new regarding Baybars, who's after your head."

"Then what's to be done, brother Hammuda?"

"The governor and warden are both agreed that you need to restrict your movements to this area and not beyond. When they both give the word, you and your wife are to disappear from view."