The door to the governor of Egypt's chamber creaked open. On instinct, Ruqayya tensed, fumbling subtly for the dagger she hid near her chest beneath her clothing.
Muhammad ibn Abu Hudhayfa, the governor's second in command, jumped at the intrusion as well. But then again, he was a timid man, and quick to fright.
Ruqayya relaxed as the visitor heralded himself to be none other than ibn Abu Bakr, one of the chief military figures in al-Fustat – the administrative capital of this Egyptian province.
Her arm fell to her side once more and her beating heart steadied. One could not be too careful. And besides, who barges in to the governor's abode in the dead of night? The governor himself never stepped foot in it.
"As-salamu 'alaykum, son of Abu Hudhayfa," the newcomer greeted the man hunched over a parchment.
"What is that you want, son of Abu Bakr?"
Ibn Abu Bakr smirked beneath his bushy beard, snatching a quick glimpse at the parchment in the other man's hand.
"What are you doing here?" ibn Abu Hudhayfa demanded of him again, in a firmer tone this time. "It is not proper for you to barge in here unannounced."
Ibn Abu Bakr did not respond immediately.
"You still think the governor can be saved?" was what he casually asked when he did, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Stop," ibn Abu Hudhayfa demanded of the larger man. "Stop your relentless speech of dissent and treason. What is your end game here? What is the purpose of this? Two men enjoying a leisurely conversation through al-Fustat, speaking of dissent?"
"You think a man can be saved from bottomless avarice of wealth and power?" ibn Abu Bakr continued.
"Stop talking, son of Abu Bakr."
"You think a man can be cured of impiety that runs deep through his veins?"
"You do not know what you accuse this man of. 'And you think it insignificant when it is to Allah, tremendous'" the governor's second in command jabbed back.
I should not be eavesdropping, I should not be eavesdropping. The good Christian girl in her was gnawing at her conscience but her love for intrigue and gossip buried any potential piety deep within.
"You keep reciting your verses and boasting of your piety, yet you are content to call a man of tyranny and corruption your lord and master," ibn Abu Bakr, the military man, responded.
"There is no master but Allah," ibn Abu Hudhayfa reminded the other.
"It is a good idea in theory, yet it is not one you implement."
"What would you have me do? Storm ibn Abu Sarh's home and put him to the sword? Would that please Allah, in your mind?"
Ibn Abu Bakr halted abruptly. The taller man looked down on ibn Abu Hudhayfa with a stern look.
"I would not have you groveling to him at every turn. I know you are doing what you think is right in your heart of hearts. You are a good man, sire, and that is what I admire about you. You are a man of Allah, as 'Uthman taught you. But do you really think this malfeasance is what Allah wants? Do you think the Prophet, prayers and peace be upon him, would approve of this, were he alive?"
"I'm trying," ibn Abu Hudhayfa's shoulders slumped.
"You've been trying for years!" ibn Abu Bakr raised his voice. "You've been trying to talk him out of his folly with soft words and pretty verses from a book he does not believe in."
What's he getting at? Ruqayya wondered. Perhaps there were benefits to being a servant. The plot thickens.
There was one really bad cough she was just itching to be out with. But she couldn't risk alerting them of her presence. Not when things were getting so juicy.
Ibn Abu Hudhayfa remained silent, refusing to meet the other man's eyes.
"And what has it accomplished, Abu Hudhayfa?" ibn Abu Bakr continued. "The alienation of half our troops, the disgruntlement of the locals and a bloody famine!"
"Abu Bakr. You know I share the burden with my people. I bear the brunt of this famine as they do. There is no preferential treatment in al-Fustat."
It was true. Famine was ravaging the city, Ruqayya was witness to that. Life was difficult enough with a bedridden father and the harsh reality of balancing two challenging jobs. She afforded Andronicus, her foster father, with any scraps of food she managed to get ahold of. She could weather through the hunger.
Her stomach rumbled and lurched at the thought of a decent meal. Her throat felt dry and his lips were parched. Her vision was blurry and unfocused. Through it all, she knew ibn Abu Sarh had his own private stash. She was privy to such information, on account of her proximity. She knew he indulged himself in the forbidden even at this desperate hour.
"Brother, I know," ibn Abu Bakr continued his speech. "This is why you are more fit to be governor than this petulant bastard."
Oof, Ruqayya bloated her cheeks, her eyes widening. She had not expected that.
Dumbstruck, ibn Abu Hudhayfa took a step backward, staring wide-eyed at the other man in wide-eyed shock.
"Me?" the governor's aide demanded. "You want me to usurp the position? No, I will not have it."
"What are we to do, then, sire?"
"There is a man that governs these lands. A man selected by a pious Muslim, who is God's deputy on this earth. The man who raised me. He can sort this."
"You've been writing letters to 'Uthman for years," ibn Abu Bakr reminded him. "It has not made a difference."
Ibn Abu Hudhayfa nodded, conceding that point.
"It hasn't. But I will send another. We must give him this last chance, son of Abu Bakr. We owe him that much at least, or have you forgotten that he is leader of all from the west past Libya to the lands of Persia?"
Ibn Abu Bakr nodded grudgingly. "One last letter. Word it sharply. We need a prudent response," he paused, his eyes wandering. "Demand a delegation from Madinah. A delegation to inspect the situation here. Emphasize on the disgruntlement of the troops in al-Fustat. The troops are what matter."
"Everyone matters," ibn Abu Hudhayfa retorted. "But I will get to work on it. I will speak of my growing concerns for this ibn Abu Sarh. I will not relent until I have a fitting response. You have my word."
Ibn Abu Bakr extended an arm, and the other clasped it without a moment's hesitation. Ibn Abu Bakr leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone.
"It is not only the Arabs of Egypt that are riled up. I have contacts in al-Hirah. They speak of similar circumstances there. They are not pleased with the method of ruling either."
Ibn Abu Hudhayfa snatched his arm away furiously.
"Whenever we come to an agreement about something, you utter words more dangerous and reckless than I could believe. You want us to take up joint rebellion with the Arabs of Kufa? Are you insane?"
"I said nothing of the sort."
"Then what is it that you were implying, brother?"
Ibn Abu Bakr paused, pursing his lips. "Just in case it comes to drastic measures. We will have allies. It never hurts to secure your future."
"I will not split Allah's state."
"Nor will you," ibn Abu Bakr reassured his more timid counterpart. "Nor will you. All you have to do is get to scribbling. Write down that letter. Go on."
Ruqayya's mind spun at the possibilities. Her thoughts were blurred and sluggish at the lack of nutrition. She shook his head and wiped a palm on his face, trying to collect her thoughts. What did all of this mean?
She shook her head. It probably meant nothing. She shouldn't have been listening in on them either. It was improper. She had other things to worry about. A full belly, for instance.
She would dwell later on the subject, perhaps when she had taken care of her father for the night. For now, however, she preferred the notion of a much-deserved slumber. Yawning, she prepared herself to begin leaving.