But of all the tales, Nick’s favorites were of Antar, the Beduin warrior of the sixth century. The son of a Bedu sheikh and a black female slave, Antar was dark of skin and born of servitude. But he showed courage and won his freedom in battle. Antar rode a black stallion, faster than the wind, and fought the oppressors of the weak and the poor with his powerful sword. “With my sword will I destroy the oppressors, let Allah’s justice fall on me as He wills,” Antar vowed.

Once Antar faced an army of forty thousand single-handed. His glittering sword scattered them like chaff in the wind. But no man is invincible. The great warrior was vanquished by a woman, the beautiful dark-eyed virgin, Abla, daughter of a great sheikh. “The eyelashes of my beloved from the corner of her veil are more cutting than the edges of sharp scimitars,” swore Antar.

The fire burned low in the tent and even the wind fell silent as in a hushed voice, Mohammed told of Antar’s battle with the fiercest lion in the desert.

“To prove his love for the fair virgin Abla, Antar vowed to fight the lion,” Mohammed said.

“Ya Allah,” breathed Youssef, his eyes wide and full of wonder. Nick took Youssef’s hand. The two boys longed to be like Antar.

“But to prevent Antar from escaping the wrath of the lion, his feet were bound by his terrible enemy, Munzar …”

“May the raiders get him!” cried a voice in the darkness.

“The lion crouched and sprang, looming larger than the biggest camel, but Antar leapt into the air and cleaved the beast in two with his sword,” Mohammed declared.

“Ya Allah!” Nick murmured. Like Antar, he too came from a despised background, but his courage might yet win him honor, he thought. Antar was his hero.

Al Aramah

Al Aramah

IN THE COOL SHADE, lulled by the gurgling sound of the water as it tumbled down over the rocks to the crystal pond, Abdul Sa’ad tried to return his thoughts to the infinite, the center. Reclining on his prayer rug after the afternoon salat, he inhaled deeply of the fragrance of the garden. As he glanced at the tall palms, the wildflowers and watered greens, he recited aloud the poetry of the Holy Koran:

“‘Reclining there upon soft couches, they shall feel neither the scorching heat nor the biting cold. Trees will spread their shade around them and fruits will hang in clusters over them. They shall be served with silver dishes … and cups brim full of ginger-water from the Fount of Selsabil.’”