The Master and The Maiden

Chapter 4

*

The Al-ghala mansion was a smooth and towering structure set high above the city. Built beside the Bab al-Yaman (Yemen gate), it was one of the oldest houses in the city, dating back to the early 1600s. The building itself was three stories high, surrounded by a wall almost as tall as the building itself. Several rooms were built by the left and right side of the compound, with the main building in the middle of the compound. It was flanked by two dome shaped structures on each side, with massive chains tied around the doors.

Kabeer had just alighted from the coach, and he was staring round the compound taking in every bit of what he could see.

There were seven rooms on the right side, each with a single window and door with dark grey curtains hanging on the doors. These were the slave rooms, with six rooms being for the males and one for the females. Each room contained at least 15 slaves, each of them provided with a mat and a little space for keeping their clothes. There were two bathrooms on either side of the rooms, the farthest one being for the females since their room was closest to it, and the nearest one being for the males.

On the left side of the compound, were three very large rooms. The first room with high arching windows was the stable, with about twenty horses and a few donkeys inside. The floor of this room was covered in dried grass, with sacks of hay piled on top of each other against the wall. Each horse was locked in a stall, big enough to allow them to move about freely. There were three more windows at the other end of the room, right beside the sacks of hay. A single black horse was tied to a peg in the center of the room, flicking its tail lazily. Two of the stalls were empty, their inhabitants being tethered to the coach parked in the middle of the compound.

The next room was the storeroom. Like the previous room, it also had high arching windows, the only difference being that these windows had shutters. Inside the room were numerous sacks of rice, groundnut, wheat, millet, corn and cocoa. There were three large boxes at the other end of the room, containing different jars of spices and curry, which the female slaves used when cooking.

Several ropes hung from the ceiling of the room, tied diagonally to one another. On these ropes, smaller sacks of rice hung loosely on them, as there wasn't enough space to place them on the ground. The sacks placed on the ground however were placed on wooden mounts, to avoid moisture damaging them.

The last room was the main kitchen, where the female slaves prepared the meals of the household. The walls of this room were blackened by smoke, as well as the ceiling. There were four large holes on the ceiling over the four fireplaces, to allow the smoke to escape. Each hole was fixed with a wooden trapdoor which could be shut. During the rainy season, the men would place ladders on the side of the kitchen and climb up to the roof to shut the trapdoors, so the rain wouldn't flood the kitchen.

The kitchen also had the most windows in the house, with seven on the first wall and seven on the opposite wall. Usually, seven large pots were kept at the far end of the room, but today four of them were placed on the fire, with three women attending to each pot. Beads of sweat were clearly visible on their foreheads, as they hastened to finish the days lunch. Among them was Dalia, who sat on a low stool beside the door and gave out orders to each of the women as they worked.

At the back of the compound were two large wells, surrounded by several boys who were drawing water from them. Two other coaches were kept at the back, with a single room which - though only a handful of people were allowed to know - contained several sabres, spears, bows and arrows and about fifty small daggers. This particular room was always locked, and the keys hung up in master Fareed's study.

Kabeer stood in the center of the mansion, gazing up at the house itself. Unlike his own house, this one was painted grey, unlike like the slave rooms which were rubbed smooth with mud. The main house had two white stripes cutting horizontally across the building to indicate the separate floors. There were multiple windows on each floor, though each of them was locked. Two young men were standing guard at the entrance to the building.

"Looks even bigger from the inside, don't you think?" Jamal whispered to Kabeer as he stood beside him. Two young boys rushed up to the coach once all four men had alighted.

"Come. We have much to discuss." Fareed said, heading for the main house. Fahad and Jamal followed quickly, before Kabeer realised they were moving already. He too set off at once, as the two young boys followed the coach to the back of the house.

As they reached the entrance, the two men standing there swung the doors open, bowing as their master walked past them. Fareed led them into a spacious corridor, with a staircase at the other end, and two doors opposite each other on each side. He led them into the room on the right, which turned out to be the living room. The entire floor was covered with a black carpet with brown patterns drawn on it. Several pillows were arranged on the carpet, with two windows on each side of the room.

Master Fareed sat at the center of the room, while Fahad and Kabeer sat on his right. Jamal sat on his left side.

They'd barely sat down when three women walked into the room, carrying three large trays before them. Keeping their eyes on the floor, they placed the trays in front of Fareed, and two of them hastily exited the room. The first tray held two large jugs of water, with four cups as well. The second tray contained two large bowls of dates, while the third tray contained four smaller bowls filled with large chunks of meat.

The third woman filled each cup with water, and placed it beside each man along with a bowl of meat. She placed one bowl of dates between Kabeer and Fahad, and the other in front of Fareed, though within arms reach of Jamal. She too hastily left the room once she was done.

Master Fareed took two large gulps of water, before turning his attention to his guests.

"Gentlemen, I believe we should eat first before we talk business." he said, watching Kabeer curiously. The latter had shifted the bowl placed before him to the side, as though he had no intention of eating.

"You're not hungry?" Fareed c****d his head.

"I'm fine, Alhamdulillah." he replied, gazing at Fareed with a look of contempt.

"I can assure you, none of my slaves has put poison into your bowl, Kabeer." Fareed said. Jamal and Fahad laughed hard at his statement, though Kabeer didn't even twitch an eyebrow.

"One can never be too sure." he said quietly. Fareed was the only one who heard his statement, as Jamal and Fahad were still laughing. He merely looked at Kabeer, the cold calculating look still in his eyes.

They ate in silence, as it was improper to talk while eating. Fareed stared at Kabeer nonstop as they ate, the latter forcing himself not to break eye contact. He was trying to understand Fareed's motive behind bringing them to his mansion. Kabeer had no doubt that he had done it for a reason. If it was business they truly wished to discuss, then it would have been more acceptable if they'd set a date on which to meet. It seemed as though Fareed was eager to get them into his house for a reason; a reason which still eluded Kabeer.

Once the cups were empty and the meat was reduced to a few bones, Fareed set his aside and Jamal and Fahad followed suit.

"Gentlemen, kindly excuse me while I attend to some... issues." Fareed said, standing up slowly. As he passed Kabeer, the latter distinctly heard him chuckling under his breath.

"I wouldn't mind living like this." Jamal said in awe, staring up at the high ceilings of the living room. "I understand all his talks about wealth now."

"Don't be ridiculous." Fahad said. "It's too empty."

"Empty how?" Jamal turned to him in an accusing manner.

"I mean it feels too... lonely. It's lacking something, though I can't put my finger on it." Fahad mused.

"You're trying to say it lacks a woman's touch." Jamal laughed.

"Certainly." Fahad said. "Personally, I wouldn't be comfortable living here, surrounded by numerous slaves who outnumber me fifty to one. They'd be tempted to rebel against me."

"Don't talk like a coward." Fareed said, stepping into the room once again. He took his place before them once again, a satisfied smile on his face.

"But it's true, Fareed. How can you possibly sleep peacefully knowing that they can easily attack you at anytime and kill you?" Fahad said, narrowing his eyes at Fareed. "Do you perhaps have some powers of which we do not know?"

"You speak as though I had to hoodwink each and every one of these slaves to do my bidding." Fareed said, taking another gulp of water. "I have done nothing of that sort. I choose to believe that they will never attempt a rebellion."

"But what if they do? You have no way of..."

"They wouldn't dare." Fareed cut him off, his voice echoing slightly in the living room. He had spoken with such fierceness that Fahad had flinched before him.

"My slaves," he continued in a measured tone. " remain as loyal as they were since the first day I bought them. If you, Fahad, were to adopt the belief that your slaves may rebel against you one day, they would sense it. The fear would be visible from a mile away. Whether they had that idea in the first place or not."

"I don't quite understand." Jamal said.

"Think of it this way." Fareed turned towards him. "If you believe, deep down, that your slaves will never rebel against you, then they never will. But if you have even a tiny bit of doubt, then it's as though you have planted the seed in their head. They will immediately begin to see the opportunities presented before them."

"It is foolish to assume that. One should never believe something simply because they want to believe it." Kabeer said.

"I beg to differ." Fareed said. "If I believe something, then so it shall be."

"That's narrow minded thinking. You can't expect to force your own beliefs on others." he retorted.

"But you see, it is precisely the act of forcing my own belief on others that reminds them who is their master." Fareed said coldly.

"And if they refuse to accept your beliefs?" Kabeer snorted.

"Those who deserve to be punished, will be punished." he replied.

*

Zaid's scream was muffled by the damp and dirty cloth which had been unceremoniously shoved into his mouth. Lukman laughed as he continued to squirm in anguish, his robes hanging off his shoulders.

The mark which had been burnt onto Zaid's shoulder by the hot metal rod was still glistening. The smell of burning flesh hung thick in the air.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Lukman whispered, pulling him by his hair. Zaid groaned as he felt several strands of hair leave his scalp.

Through his puffy eyes, Zaid could make out the horrible, sadistic smile on Lukman's face.

"Answer me." he spat, a substantial amount of saliva landing on his face. Zaid grimaced, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. The other men in the room were laughing, clearly enjoying the little exchange between their leader and the thief.

"It seems he's not ready to talk." Lukman smiled wickedly. "Perhaps he need a little bit more persuasion."

The red hot metal rod was pressed against Zaid's skin once again. He yelled once again, but the sound never escaped his throat. He twisted in agony, trying desperately to move away from the metal, his eyes wide and frantic. If the cloth hadn't been in his mouth, his scream would surely have echoed loudly across several streets.

"Enough." Lukman said, still smirking.

As the man pulled away the metal rod from Zaid's skin, Lukman bent down on one knee to examine the wounds on his back. Blood was oozing slowly from each of them, though the flesh was charred and blackened. He was sweating profusely, the sweat soaking his torn garment. With a satisfied smile, Lukman scooted over to face him. Slowly, he lifted Zaid's face until it was level with his. Then he pulled the cloth out of his mouth.

"I do not wish to torture you, Zaid." he said slowly, caressing his head in a loving manner. "You do not deserve to suffer like this. All I ask for is the name. Just tell me who put you up to this and you'll be free to go."

Zaid opened his eyes and looked at him, feeling the hatred washing over him in waves.

"You, you..." he stammered, gasping for breath. "You'll, you'll..."

"Go on." Lukman encouraged him.

"You'll have to kill me then." he managed to say. "Nothing you do will make me talk."

"Very well." Lukman said, straightening up. "If you choose to be stubborn, then you shall perish today."

Zaid watched helplessly as Lukman nodded to one of his men. The latter dashed out of the room as the cloth was shoved back into his mouth. In the distance, Zaid heard the sound of something scrapping against the wooden floor. His eyes were widened as he could only imagine what horrific way of torturing him they were planning. But he will never speak. There are some things worth dying for.

"Help him." Lukman told another man. He too left the room, and together they entered the room, carrying a large tub of what appeared to be boiling water. They placed it before Zaid, who was crouched in the middle of the room. His eyes were as large as saucers as one of the men proceeded to tie a rope around his wrists while another tied a second rope around his ankles.

"And for extra measures," Lukman chuckled as he poured a large bowl of salt into the boiling water. Zaid began to thrash about, screaming in terror. The two men restrained him, lifting him up into the air.

"Ready to talk?" Lukman asked while Zaid continued to scream in a muffled manner.

"Very well." he sighed as Zaid was dunked into the water. For one brief, glorious second, Zaid felt nothing. But then, white hot pain seared immediately across every inch of his body as he thrashed about desperately, all the while trying to yell. His hands were tied too securely though. Slipping and screaming, he continued to struggle as the boiling water seeped into his clothes. He wanted to die. Surely this was more painful than death.

'Let me die. Please, let me just die'. he thought in agony. The pain was blinding him, clouding all his thoughts so that all he knew was pain. He was drowning, desperately trying to breath even as he begged death to seize him.

Then as suddenly as it started, the pain subsided as he felt a tug on his wrists and ankles simultaneously. He was hoisted into the air at once, and flung onto the wooden floor. The dirty cloth was soaked completely, and he spat it out of his mouth, shaking with tears. It was agony to even sit on the floor, as he skin was burnt significantly.

"Now, Zaid." Lukman moved forward. "I'm sure you don't want to experience that again, do you?"

Zaid didn't reply, as he continued to cry in a curled up position.

"Just the name, Zaid. Just tell me the name and I assure you this will all stop." he said in a quiet voice.

"No." Zaid sputtered. "Please no."

"The name, Zaid. Just tell me the name." he said hungrily.

"It's... It's..." he stammered, his breath coming out in sharp bursts.

"Yes?" Lukman said excitedly.

"You'll, you'll let me go once I tell you?" Zaid asked nervously.

"You have my word." Lukman lied.

"It was Abdullahi. Abdullahi ibn Abbas." he said, hating himself more than he ever had. "He made me spy on you before we came. I've been feeding him information for weeks now."

"Very good, Zaid." Lukman smiled. "And how did this little relationship of yours start?"

"He, he approached me a month ago." Zaid cried. "Told me he had a job for me, and that if I did it, I'll be rewarded handsomely."

"Go on." Lukman whispered.

"I... I asked him what kind of job it was. He told me he wanted some information on, on master Fareed. I told him I'd never betray my master." he croaked.

"Then let me guess, he gave you a huge amount of money and immediately won you over?" Lukman interjected. Zaid didn't reply. His sobs were answer enough.

"So he paid you to spy on your master? Then what happened?" he asked.

"I... I told him all I knew; all the things I saw and heard. Then he... he thanked me and left. But then he returned a week later and said he had heard about a package master Fareed wanted to be delivered to the city. He asked me to find out everything I could about the delivery." he said.

"And so you did?"

Zaid nodded weakly.

"Very good." Lukman smiled, straightening up. "You have done well, Zaid. I thought you would be much harder to persuade. But you have done well. Very well indeed."

Turning to one of his men, he spoke in a very excited voice. "Send word to the master immediately. He would want to know."

Nodding sharply, he immediately dashed out of the room. Lukman pulled out a dagger, the metal glinting in the sunlight which was streaming in through the window. Zaid panicked as Lukman moved towards him.

"Stand still." he said as Zaid began to squirm underneath him. In one swift motion, Lukman slashed at the ropes tied around his wrists, doing the same for the ropes on his ankles.

"Get him some water." Lukman ordered, leaning him against the tub. A cup of water was brought immediately. "Here you go." Lukman offered him. Zaid gulped it down eagerly, his hands shaking as he held the cup.

"Now," Lukman stood once again. "We should take him to the mansion. I'm sure the master would wish to see him personally. But first..."

In a split second, Lukman had turned swiftly and landed a massive punch in Zaid's midsection, knocking all the wind out of him. The latter doubled over, clutching his stomach in pain.

"Don't ever make me ask you something more than once." Lukman said.

*

The crowd which had gathered previously in the market had now thinned. A few traders were beginning to pack up already, even though the sun was still high in the sky.

"What is that?" Ummayma pointed at a metal object with two wheels propped up against a wall next to a skinny old man selling leather belts and shoes.

Noor turned her gaze to the object which Ummayma was pointing to.

"Abba (Father) called it a bicycle once." she said. "I think he said it is used as a means of transportation."

"Wow." Ummayma continued to stare at it. "Do you think I can ride it?"

"I don't think it looks comfortable." Noor said in an undertone as the reached the center of the market. Here, they turned their attention to the three stalls to their right, which belonged to Kabeer ibn Hamza. Noor sighed, holding the basket tighter as she approached the stalls.

"If it isn't the most beautiful woman in Sana'a." said a very deep voice behind them. Noor groaned, already knowing who it was. Slowly, she turned around. The man standing behind them was tall and broad shouldered, with small patches of beard across his face. His eyes shone underneath his bushy eyebrows, and his large arms were clasped behind him. Unlike most of the men in the market, he was dressed in a very large shirt, - which would surely have fit three women of her size perfectly - and large baggy pants tucked into heavily laced up boots.

"Assalamu alaikum." Omar smiled - or rather smirked - at Noor. "How are you doing today?"

"My father has forbidden me to talk to you." she lied, walking away quickly. Omar chuckled behind her, bouncing on his heels. "Until next time then." he whispered to himself, walking away.

"Who was he?" Ummayma asked.

"Don't worry about him." Noor said. "He's not worth your time."

"Okay." she replied simply. Noor was grateful for her lack of curiosity. If it had been Aisha, she would have questioned her until she got to the bottom of the issue.

In truth, Omar had been trying to woo her into a conversation for a very long time now. He was a very powerful soldier in the military, and he had returned to Sana'a to - as he so delicately put it during their first unfortunate encounter - settle down and find a woman who would cater to all his needs. He'd laughed so hard when he said this. Noor found it insulting.

"Assalamu alaikum." she said, pushing all thoughts of Omar out of her mind as she stepped into the stall. "Abba?" she called.

"He's not here." one of his slaves called, emerging from the back. "He told us to come and keep the shop open until his return." he said, bowing slowly before her.

"Where did he go to?" Noor asked.

"I honestly don't know." he replied. "After the Jumu'at prayer, I saw him leaving with three other men in a coach. They headed off in that direction." he pointed east.

"In a coach?" she asked as she raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. In a coach." he replied, still not making eye contact with her.

"But did he perhaps mention when he will return?" Noor asked.

"I'm afraid not." he said.

"But his food might get cold before he returns." she said in a concerned voice, more to herself.

"We can't keep the food for him, if you wish. At least before he returns." he offered.

"Oh, alright." Noor said, handing him the basket. As he held out his hand to collect it, they both heard a commotion at the other end of the market. Turning swiftly, they both saw a group of men pulling a much smaller man between them, with one man leading them. The man whom they were holding had had his robes torn at the shoulder, and blood was seeping through his clothes in multiple places. His face was red and swollen, as though he'd been punched several times intentionally. A few of the people surrounding them were jeering at him.

"Who could that be?" Ummayma said, craning to see the man. Noor stretched a little as well, her eyes fixated upon the burns on his back. "What could anyone have done to deserve such treatment?" she said.

As the men passed their stalk however, her heart stopped as she recognized the man they were holding.

"Isn't that Zaid?" she gasped, her eyes widening.

"The man who's been coming to see Master?" Ummayma gasped too, covering her mouth with her hands.

Sure enough it was Zaid ibn Abdullah who was being dragged across the market at that very moment, silently praying that the little white lie he'd told wouldn't be uncovered.

*