25

I wandered alone in the desert for hours, following the tracks of the camels eastward toward Medina. The dromedary beasts moved like falcons through the shifting sands and the army was in all likelihood already most of the way back to the oasis. If I continued on my present course, I would be able to reach home on foot within six days. Which was, of course, six days longer than I could survive without any food or water. And yet something kept pulling me forward, some desperate hope that my absence from the caravan would be noticed and a search party sent back. But as the sun fell toward the horizon, my hopes began to dwindle. And when the last light disappeared from the sky, they died with the sunset.

A blackness fell over the wilderness that was so thick that even the sea of stars above me could not shed any light on my path. The air that had sizzled with merciless wrath during the day now became still and deathly cold. I lay down on the coarse sand and hugged myself tight, hoping to keep my body warm enough to survive until the sunrise. But my teeth chattered viciously and tremors of ice ran through my veins.

The world began to darken further, and even the stars faded from my view. My head began to spin and my breathing slowed to a soft whisper. I could feel my heartbeat wane and I no longer had the strength to fight.

I was falling into a chasm that had no bottom and I finally surrendered and gave myself to the void.

I AWOKE WITH A start at the sound of drums pulsing in the distance. The world remained black all around me, and when I looked up into the sky, I could see no stars. For a moment, I was confused. Had I died? Was this the barzakh, the barrier between worlds where souls were stored until the Day of Resurrection? I looked around in trepidation, expecting the terrifying forms of Munkar and Nakir, the angels of death with black faces and piercing blue eyes, to appear at any moment and begin the solemn questioning of the soul in the grave. The angels were said to ask three questions: “Who is your Lord? Who is your prophet? What is your religion?” Those who answered correctly-“Allah,Muhammad, and Islam”-would be granted peace in their graves until the Final Judgment. And those who answered with falsehood would suffer torment that would prefigure the horrors of hell.

I gripped my hands to my chest, waiting and watching, the sacred words of the Fatiha repeating on my parched lips. And yet no angels appeared. But I heard the thunder of drums grow louder and a red glow appeared on the horizon. But it was not the welcoming glare of sunrise, but something else, for the sky remained black save for the throbbing, pulsating halo beyond the hills.

There was something that was both enticing and terrifying about that light. It beckoned to me and I felt drawn toward it. And yet a voice inside my heart said to stay where I was, to avoid the mysterious light and all the secrets that it offered. I struggled with myself, but my curiosity finally took hold of my heart and I walked toward the unearthly glow.

I climbed up a tall dune, struggling with the shifting sand beneath my feet that kept threatening to pull me back. But I finally managed to make it to the top of the hill and was able to look down at the source of the light. My eyes grew wide as I saw a campfire burning in the distance, the flickering flames dancing and calling out to me with the hope of rescue.

I began to run, joy in my heart. God had heard my prayers and the danger was over. Where there was fire, there were people. I should have hesitated, wondering who would be out here in the middle of the night, whether they were friend or foe. A pretty girl alone in the wilderness would be easy prey for the Bedouins, who followed no law save the call of their lust. And yet some part of my heart reasoned that I would be safe once they knew who I was. Even a bandit would find more value in ransoming the wife of Arabia’s most powerful man than in taking her virtue.

As I ran closer to the fire, the drums grew louder. I saw figures milling about the light and I slowed, my prudence finally reasserting itself. I crept closer to the burning pyre until I could get a clear look at these people and decide whether it was indeed wise to reveal myself.

And then I froze when I saw who they were. It was a group of women who looked disturbingly familiar, dressed in robes of scarlet and gold, their anklets jingling as they danced around the fire. They were led by a tall woman whose face was covered by a veil and who was beating a timbrel with intensity. The strange women swayed and swirled by the fire, their bodies shaking in an ecstasy that would have made me blush had I not been so disoriented. What were these women doing out here in the middle of the night, dancing and throwing themselves about as if they were making love to unseen spirits? My blood began to chill and I suddenly regretted having followed the light.

I was ready to crawl back over the hills and take refuge from these strange and alluring figures when I saw the veiled woman who led the dance raise her arm. A golden armlet reflected the raging fire and I could make out a distinct shape-two snakes winding about each other, and where their jaws met, a glistening ruby sparkled in defiance.

I stopped breathing as I realized who this woman was.

Hind. The mad wife of Abu Sufyan, who had eaten the flesh of the martyrs.

I wanted to run but my legs were rooted to the spot. And then I saw a flash of light above me and heard the terrible crash of thunder. And I realized that the reason I could see no stars was that the heavens were covered by thick, rolling storm clouds. The lightning flashed again, and a sudden torrent began, rain plunging down from the angry sky and flooding the earth around me.

I felt the hard drops hitting my face like tiny pebbles and I opened my mouth, desperate for water after hours of wandering in the desert. But the rainwater tasted different, salty and vile, and I retched violently. And then the sky was lit by a dozen terrible jagged bolts and for a moment I could see the world clearly about me.

The raindrops were not clear, but crimson.

The sky was raining blood.

As my heart pounded in horror, the unholy torrent struck the campfire. But instead of extinguishing the flames, it was as if oil had been poured upon them, and the fire burned higher and brighter, illuminating the desolate valley as bright as day.

And then I saw a sight I will never forget. All about me the ground was littered with corpses from a battle. Men in armor, their breastplates pierced by dozens of arrows, arms and legs dismembered and thrown to the side like refuse. The terrible stench of rotting flesh engulfed me and I wanted to scream, and yet no sound emerged.

And then I watched with horror beyond horror as the veiled Hind stopped her dance and turned to look in my direction. In the light of the raging fire she could now see me, and she suddenly laughed with bloodcurdling viciousness. Her maidens, whom I now recognized as the same madwomen who had danced over the body of Hamza, pointed at me and sneered.

And then Hind was walking toward me and I saw that the timbrel in her hand had become a mighty sword, the blade curved and cruelly jagged. At that instant, my terror overcame my shock and I began to run. Yet everywhere I turned, I was blocked by a sea of corpses, and I had no choice but to step on their bodies, feeling the sickening sensation of my feet sinking into their rotting flesh.

I could hear Hind’s laughter growing closer but I dared not look behind me. I needed to get away, far away from this madness. Every prayer I knew was on my lips, and yet the nightmare continued, my supplications met only with the terrible roll of thunder from above.