Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Interlude

"Truthful is the great Allah," was a popular sentence popping up all over.

It was what they wished to hear. 'Abdullah carried on.

"This is why we are here, my brothers in faith," he continued. "This is why we set forth from our homes in Kufa. While we labor in the name of Islam one day after the other, 'Uthman redirects the funds that ought to be delivered to us and ours to the pockets of those overflowing as is! Such avarice!"

A cheer of agreement washed over their little group. 'Abdullah hoped this timely story from the old man would quell any doubts some of them may be harboring over their expedition.

"Yes, my brother," Abu Dharr spoke directly to him this time. "This is precisely the verse I recited to those of the Umayyad clan. I voiced my concerns yet again to this Mu'awiyah in Damascus, who proved no more tolerant than his kin in the peninsula. I am but an unlearned, simple Bedouin. I only seek to serve Allah and follow his messenger's example. I only wished to serve the poor and the needy, as was commanded of me. As is the righteous path. That is what I told Mu'awiyah."

"Mu'awiyah did this to you?" Malik al-Ashtar growled.

Abu Dharr shook his head. "He wrote to his kin in Madinah, who summoned to the Khalifa's abode. I spoke of what I saw in Damascus in the palace of this Mu'awiyah. How those Muslims there cared for naught but earthly desires and excessive whims. They harbor not an ounce of modesty among them. 'Uthman asked me if I would begone. I sensed the hint in his words. And as I said, I am but a humble Bedouin who serves only the creator. As such, I would abide the Khalifa in all commands earthly lest I spark discord in the community, brothers."

"May Allah be with you in your struggle, Abu Dharr!" one called out.

"My abode is no struggle," Abu Dharr answered humbly. "I need no possessions nor do I want for company. For my true abode is in the Hereafter."

I've a mind to send someone else there just this moment.

***

"You must be the young man I've been hearing so much about," the man had an unsurprisingly gruff voice to him.

He towered over 'Abdullah and then some. Well-built with a jet-black beard and long hair.

Muhammad ibn Abu Bakr, he guessed. The son of the late Khalifa Abu Bakr. He was one of the Muslims stationed in al-Fustat, in Egypt. The same group 'Abdullah's own from Kufa had coordinated with to meet in Madinah. The man was also the brother of 'Aisha, one of the Prophet's wives.

"Wa 'alaykum al-salam," 'Abdullah replied coldly. And peace be upon you. As though chiding the older man for not beginning with the Islamic greeting.

Abu Bakr only chuckled, holding out a beefy hand to clasp 'Abdullah's bone-thin arm, completely engulfing it.

"I like you already," the man spoke with a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

'Abdullah turned to the throngs of believers concentrated outside of the two-story mansion that served as the abode for the third Khalifa of the Islamic Caliphate.

They had been camped outside of 'Uthman's home for some hours now, a large wall looming before them, adorned with a barred gate, the Khalifa's home yonder.

During the morning, the atmosphere was one of chaos and confusion. The crowd was one of a diverse background. Some of them were troops stationed in Egypt, others from Kufa and Basra – from 'Iraq – while others still from Madinah were emboldened by the large gathering.

As a result, cohesion was not their strong suit at the beginning. It was far too loud for 'Abdullah's liking; different sections of the protestors were straining to listen to one orator or the other.