The captain mounted his horse. Without a glance at his two lieutenants, he rode out of the gate.
Night came on. The sky which had seemed like a burning abyss a few hours ago was now dark blue. First two and then a pleiade of stars began to fill the sky. The fires had gone out and everything was dark, the way it must have been a thousand years before when the land grew wild and there were neither dwellings nor creatures to live in them.
The Dwarf, his eyes rigid with horror, was sitting on the ground with Yazid’s body in his arms, swaying gently to and fro. His tears were falling on the face of the dead child and mingling with his blood.
‘How did it come to pass that of all of them I alone am still alive?’
He repeated this phrase over and over again. He did not know how or when he fell asleep or when the cursed dawn announced a new day.
Since the moment Ibn Basit had told him that he had seen a force of several hundred Christian soldiers outside al-Hudayl, Zuhayr had almost killed his mare by riding without stop till he reached the approaches to the village. Deep lines marked his face, descending from the side of his eyes to the edge of his lips. His eyes, usually black and shining, seemed colourless and dull in their deep hollows. Two months of fighting had aged him a great deal. It was a clear night as Zuhayr galloped through the gorse, his thoughts not on his men, but on his family and his home.
‘Peace be upon you, Zuhayr bin Umar!’ cried a voice.
Zuhayr reined in his horse. It was a messenger-spy from Abu Zaid.
‘I am in a hurry, brother.’
‘I wanted to warn you before you reached al-Hudayl. There is nothing left, Zuhayr bin Umar. The Christians are in their cups and telling anyone in Gharnata who will listen to them. They are senseless tonight.’
‘Peace be upon you, my friend,’ said Zuhayr looking blankly into the distance. ‘I will go and see for myself.’
Within fifteen minutes he had reached al-Zindiq’s cave, half-hoping, half-praying that the old man would be there to calm his fears. It was deserted. Al-Zindiq’s manuscripts and paper were lying there, neatly tied into bundles, as if the old man were preparing to leave forever. Zuhayr rested for a few minutes and gave the horse some water. Then he rode on. He pulled in the horse as he rounded a spur of hillside and looked upward in the familiar direction. The pale light of dawn shone upon charred remains. He rode in a trance towards the house. The worst was true. When he saw the ruins from a distance, his first thought was of revenge. ‘I will seek them out and kill them one by one. I swear on my brother’s head before Allah that I will avenge this crime.’
As he rode into the courtyard he saw his father’s head mounted on a pike stuck firmly in the ground. Zuhayr jumped off the horse and removed the pike. Gently he looked his father in the face. He took the head to the stream and washed the blood off the hair and face. Then he took it to the graveyard and began to dig the earth with his bare hands. In his frenzy he did not notice a spade lying a few feet away. After he had buried his father, he walked back into the courtyard and saw, for the first time, the Dwarf swaying gently with Yazid in his arms. For a second Zuhayr’s heart leaped into his mouth. Was Yazid alive, after all? Then he saw his brother’s still face, bloody at the edges.
‘Dwarf! Dwarf! Are you alive? Wake up, man!’
Startled, the Dwarf opened his eyes. His arms were as stiff as Yazid’s body cradled within them. On seeing Zuhayr, the Dwarf began to wail. Zuhayr embraced the cook and gently took Yazid’s body from him. He kissed his dead brother’s cheeks.
‘I have buried my father’s head. Let us bathe Yazid and put him to rest.’
Gently, they undressed the body and bathed it in the stream. Then they lifted Yazid and took him to the family graveyard. It was when he was under the ground and after they had refilled the grave with freshly dug earth that Zuhayr, who had displayed superhuman calm, broke down and screamed. The unblocked anguish released the tears. It was as if rain had fallen on Yazid’s grave.
The two men embraced each other and sat down on the grassy knoll, near the new graves.
‘I want to know everything, Dwarf. Every single detail. Anything that you can recall I must know.’
‘If only I were dead and Yazid alive. Why should I be still alive?’
‘I am happy that anyone survives. Tell me what happened.’
The Dwarf began his account and did not pause till he reached the stage where he had let go of Yazid. Then he began to wail and pull out his hair. Zuhayr stroked his face.
‘I know, I know, but it is over.’
‘That is not the worst of it. He had left the cover slightly open and I heard them grab him and begin their questions. How proud you would have been if you had heard him reply to their captain, that prince of evil who was intent on murdering us all from the very beginning.’
After the Dwarf had finished his story, Zuhayr sat with his head between his hands for a long time.
‘Everything is finished here. They have eclipsed our moon forever. Let us go away. It is no longer safe.’
The Dwarf shook his head.
‘I was born in this village. My son fell here, defending your palace. I, too, wish to die here, and I feel that it will not be long. You are still young, but I have no desire to live any longer. Leave me alone and let me die in peace.’
‘Dwarf, I was born here as well. Too many have died here already. Why add to their number? Besides I have a task which only you can accomplish. I need you.’
‘While I am here, I am at your service.’
‘I will take you to the coast and put you on a boat destined for Tanja. From there, make your way to Fes and seek out Ibn Daud and my sister. I will write a letter to her and you can tell her whatever she wishes to know.’
At this the Dwarf began to weep once again.
‘Have pity on me, Zuhayr bin Umar. How can I face the Lady Hind? With which mouth should I say that I let her Yazid die? It is cruel to send me to her. Let me go to the Lady Kulthum in Ishbiliya. You should go to Fes and live there. They will not let you live on this peninsula.’
‘I know my sister Hind very well. More so than even she understands. It is only you she will want to hear, Dwarf. She will feel the need for someone from the house to remain at her side. Otherwise she will go insane. Will you not do this as a last favour for the Banu Hudayl?’
The Dwarf knew he was defeated.
‘My father said that there were a few bags of gold always kept in the vaults. We had better take them with us. I will use them to fight our wars, and you take one for the journey and to set yourself up in Fes.’
Once the five leather bags containing gold coins had been uncovered, Zuhayr saddled his horse and rounded up another for the Dwarf. He adjusted the stirrups to accommodate the man’s short legs. As they rode away from the house and left the village behind them, Zuhayr broke his silence.
‘Let us not stop and look at it again, Dwarf. Let us remember it as it used to be. Remember?’
The cook did not reply. He did not speak till they reached the coastal town of al-Gezira. They found a boat which was departing early the next morning and booked a passage on it for the Dwarf. After a brief search they found a comfortable funduq, which provided them with a room and two beds. As they went to bed, the Dwarf spoke for the first time since they had left the forecourt of the house in al-Hudayl.
‘I will never forget the fire or the groans and screams. Nor can I forget the look on the face of Yazid after the savages had killed him. That is why I cannot remember the more distant past.’
‘I know, but that is the only past I want to remember.’