He took out his surprise gift. He spread out the barley in front of the Mahri, but the animal turned away, grumbling and fixing his gaze on the horizon.
Ukhayyad knew that the animal did not like what he had said. The piebald began to chew without swallowing, churning up a shiny froth around his mouth. He drooled bits of froth on Ukhayyad’s face and limbs, and the young man realized that the camel was burning with anger. Whenever rage ate at him, he vomited up frothy mucus.
He fastened the cord around the camel’s forelegs. He forced each leg until it bent, and hobbled each with palm rope so the animal would not get away during the night and attack the other camel. This precaution was necessary since every time the piebald returned from exile, he had viciously pounced on the camel that had taken his place.
Ukhayyad left him there and returned to his gear. He lay down on his arm and tried, without success, to sleep. All through the night he listened to the piebald as he nervously chewed, chomping jerkily at nothing but air and spit. That night, when he discovered he was no longer able to stand their being apart, Ukhayyad decided to retrieve the camel, whatever the cost.
He thought it strange that he had not allowed himself to make this decision before now. But he finally realized, as he rested on the bed of the endless desert, that he would never forgive himself if he failed to retrieve the camel on this trip. The calamity that brought them together in the past had joined their lives in a bond that would last forever. Their bond would surely withstand the famine that today tried to break them apart.
While they were on that immortal journey — going from the tribe’s encampments to the fields of Maimoun, from the pastures to the well, and finally from the abyss back to the mouth of the well again — they had purchased life at severe cost. With pain equal to death, with death itself, they had bought their lives and were born anew. Today, how could he let family and famine betray this divine gift that had joined their fates? How had the woman so blinded him from seeing his foul deed for what it was? If not for her, he would not have forgotten to fulfill his pledge to Tanit. If not for her, the curse would not have fallen on him — the curse that blinded him from seeing what he was doing. If not for her, his son would never have come into this world to shackle his neck and hands and feet with chains stronger than iron. This son had not just shackled limbs, but had paralyzed his mind and cloaked his heart. Sons may be the security of fathers — but they are also their undoing.
20
For those who love, life exists only in death. You cannot hold the heart of the beloved without having first lost your own.
You hear the strangest things from the mouths of strangers. “I knew this was going to happen,” Dudu told him at the outset. “I saw it in your eyes. I saw it in his eyes.”
“The hardship we shared transformed us from two creatures into one. I hope you can understand when I say that he and I should not be apart from one another.”
“Why didn’t you say so when the hunger began to gnaw at you?”
“It’s in a father’s nature to lose his mind when he hears his son cry. And now the matter rests in your hands. Don’t forget that he’s the one who pulled me out of the well. He’s the one who gave me my life. Put yourself in my place.”
The man was silent for a while. Then he said, “I’ll send you my response tomorrow.”
The next day, Ukhayyad heard the most incredible thing, though not directly from the mouth of the man himself. Instead, it was delivered by a messenger — the same laughing, toothless herder as before. The old man sat, stirring his evening tea. “He’ll give the piebald back to you on the condition that you divorce his kinswoman,” he said, with the studied foolishness of herders. He said it just like that, without preface or sense of shame.
Ukhayyad didn’t understand at first. So the herder repeated his master’s pronouncement a second, then a third time.
After a long silence, Ukhayyad asked, “What’s the one thing got to do with the other?”
“Since he made it a condition, there must be some connection. Only God knows the intentions of foreigners.”
“Imposing conditions on other people may be permitted by holy law, but only barely so. Is this how Muslims should treat one another?”
“Depending on the circumstance, Islam and holy law can be disregarded.”
“If I had my rifle with me, he would not have dared to send this message.”
“Even if you were holding your rifle in your hands this very minute, you couldn’t do a thing. His money has brought him servants and slaves and herdsmen — an entire retinue gathered with gold. He’s more powerful than you — and he’s got the piebald.”
The herder offered Ukhayyad a cup of tea. “You should not have pawned this jewel to him,” he repeated with the same brusque tone as before. “If you had pawned him to me, I’d have done the same, I’d think up devilish tricks to steal him away from you.” He smiled mysteriously and blew on his tea. “Always treat a foreigner as an opponent. Men never go into exile without good reason. And in the heart of every foreigner sleeps a secret.”
Ukhayyad did not blow on his tea, but let the cup sit buried in the sand. He listened to the bubbles of the foam as they scattered and popped. In the excruciating silence, even this sound could be clearly heard.
The herder said, “The truth is he told me something else I never thought to tell you before.”
“You can speak frankly with me. Nothing will shock me like this proposition he’s made.”
“Then don’t be surprised by what I say — strange things come from strangers.” Before going on, the man blew on his tea cup with an annoying sound. “He wants to marry her according to the customs of God and His Prophet.”
Ukhayyad shot him a look of utter disbelief. The herder looked down and closed his eyes. “Marry his kin,” he said, pretending to busy himself with the teacups. “He said he’d marry her according to the custom of God and His Prophet. There’s no shame in that, is there?”
“But I love her,” Ukhayyad shouted. “Did someone tell him I didn’t love her?”
“And he also loves her. That’s what he said. And blood relatives, by custom, have precedence — he also said that.”
“If only I had my rifle. . ”
“You wouldn’t do a thing. He’s got his men and bodyguards, his servants, and slaves. With his money and his gold, he’s bought everything.”
“God damn him and his gold. Does he think he can buy me — me! — and buy my wife with his gold?”
“He did buy you. He bought you the day you placed your piebald in his hands. As for your wife, he’ll get her from you too. He’s related to her, he’s kin. He’ll get her back from you and go back to Aïr with her. And he’ll do all this according to the law of God and His Prophet. What in this could anger God or mankind?”
“Did he say he was going to take her back to Aïr?”
“Yes.”
“What about my son? The boy is my son.”
“He’ll live in Dudu’s care as if he were his own son. He’ll live in comfort ever after. And, when he grows up, you can go retrieve him if you wish. That’s what Dudu said. He’s left nothing out of his proposition, as you can see. Didn’t I tell you that foreigners hide great secrets?”
“I’ll fight him. I’ll take back the piebald by force. When there’s no more sense of shame, force becomes the law of the desert. You know what I mean.”
“Force won’t accomplish anything. With his money and his men, he is much more powerful than you are.”