Prince of Knights (An Arabic Love Story)✓

Prince of Knights Chp23

Her eyes followed the herd of camels that proceeded towards the fence on the east side of the tribe. The herd followed a shepherd who had a stick in his hand and a white turban on his head. She averted her gaze from the elderly man to the knights who walked in a small flock to a place she was unaware of, Raghad frowned then shook her head. Few roguish clouds curtained the sun for a while then drifted further away from the glorious sun. Raghad's turn at last approached, when she filled the pots with water she looked over her shoulder to find that she was alone.

"Ya Allah. How on earth will I lift the pots now?" She wondered and attempted to lift the pots but failed. Raghad sat on the wall of the well and glared at everyone that passed by. She looked down at her fingernails to see her henna was scarcely visible. At the thought of her undesired marriage and Faris, desolated tears brimmed her eyes.

"Salam alikum binty." A gentle voice spoke.

Promptly, Raghad rose to her feet and looked up to see the same shepherd stand before her with his mule. Raghad did not reply, she merely stared at the man, unaware what to commit.

"Is something the matter?" The man questioned, distress noticeable in her eyes. She narrowed her eyes at his face, he seemed familiar.

"No." Raghad denied and averted her gaze.

"I believe you have inconvenience with the pots here?" The man interrogated tenderly and she allowed her eyes to meet his, serene ones.

"Yes Aami." Raghad nodded slowly.

The man smiled. "Here," he tugged at the rein of the mule. "My mule shall be the carrier of your pots, binty."

"No, wallahi there is no need for it Aami." Raghad shook her head violently, muddled at his benevolent offer .

"It is okay. My mule will carry the pots to the house then you can request Fahd to bring the mule to my khaima."

"You know who I am?" How can he, when there is a veil on her face?

The shepherd grinned. "Indeed, you are Sheikh Faris's spouse."

Raghad peered at the man for a prolong while, there was something about him, something drastically familiar. Realization cascaded down on her and she gasped then stepped forward on instinct. "Bu Hammad! What on earth are you doing here?"

The elderly man chortled. "I am a mere shepherd."

"No, you certainly are not a mere shepherd. You are a Rashideen, a knight."

"That is what you think of me."

"What is happening here?" Raghad dropped her voice, perturbed.

"My child, did you ponder that Sagr al fursan, Badr will permit you to reside in this tribe, his enemy's tribe abandoned and unshielded?"

Raghad's face turned pallid at his words, at once she searched around. "Are there more of you?"

"Indeed there are." Bu Hammad bend down to lift a mud pot.

"No, you do not apprehend, Badr does not comprehend. You must depart, by Allah if Faris hearkens of this he will annihilate you and raise another bloodshed." Raghad implored.

"If he is what they say about him. I am certain the knight already has the knowledge of my presence, my child. Do not worry all shall be well."

Raghad opened her mouth to utter words but then decided against it, she looked at the mule, at the pots then at last at Bu Hammad. "Jazak Allah khair, Aami."

"Here let me aid you." The old man grabbed the other pot and placed it in the basket that hung from either side of the mule. Raghad stood there flabbergasted at the actions of her dearest sibling. When and how did Badr command his knights to shadow her? Her heart skipped a naive beat and commenced to twirl inside her bust.