The Treasure of Akram el-Amin Read online

Sheikh Ilyas ibn Saleh’s douar upon my father’s stallion, your peoples’ children’s children shall speak of your deeds of derring-do after we are long gone!” she demurred.

  As soon as she finished speaking a great hue and cry was heard - the head man of el-Amin had apparently discovered the girl’s absence! Izzah grabbed the lad’s hand then, and crying, “Follow me!” she led him through avenues between the tents of her people – paths that she knew by heart whereas he must feel his way in the dark.

  They ran through the darkened byways and at last came to the corrals. Everywhere were people carrying torches and lanterns, waving their scimitars and daggers and halberds, shouting, “Izzah!”

  And then one shouted, in a voice even Iskandar recognized, “What do you, sirrah, with the daughter of Akram el-Amin! The fires shall know your flesh this night, brigand! Kill him!”

  It was the head man!

  In a trice El Azra'eil sprang into in his hand and Iskandar fought then for his life and Izzah’s freedom. The boy had been raised with a blade in his hand and his swift movements were poetic in their fluid motion. He fought as smoothly as reeH, the desert wind, his jellabiya flowing outward in graceful pantomime of the lad’s sword play. Many a warrior of el-Amin felt the sting of his scimitar, El Azra'eil, that night.

  But because of his new found love for this beautiful Maiden of the Desert, he could not bring himself to slay any of her people. So it was stinging, debilitating cuts and swipes the lad took, causing them to cry out in pain and anger, and many to recoil and retreat from the battle to nurse painful wounds – but wounds that would not prove fatal.

  “He is afraid of us!” cried the major domo.

  “Nay!” contested Izzah, watching the lad in fascination. “Iskandar fears no man! He honors you with your lives! Let us go!”

  “Never!” cried the head man.

  And then el-Amin himself was there, sword in hand. His face was grim.

  “Daughter!” he thundered.

  But the lass was not there!

  Iskandar, with the girl safely ensconced behind his back, fought on, unaware that she had left him as he fought off her defenders. Seeing the girl had disappeared the major domo taunted Iskandar.

  “Izzah has abandoned you, whelp! Surrender and we shall give you at least a merciful death!” he yelled.

  “Never!” cried Iskandar.

  A wild snort and a neigh caused him to glance behind him. Izzah, a black stallion with white star upon its forehead in hand, was there right behind him, he never even aware she had left to fetch the horse. There was no time to saddle the mount, it having but a halter and rope hastily donned, but quickly the girl leaped upon the great beast, pulling herself up by its mane.

  Now the men of her tribe fought even harder to kill the boy. The lad’s sword was everywhere at once though, and they could not find his vitals. Twice he crossed blades with el-Amin himself, but refused to harm the girl’s father, instead directing the battle by quick foot work so that el-Amin became separated from him by the others who were trying to hook him with the bills on their ancient polearms, leftovers from the Holy Wars.

  With a flurry of sword work, Iskandar was able to buy himself the seconds he needed to turn and leap aboard the fiery mount. Waving El Azra'eil he dove straight into the crowd, the immense stallion knocking men left and right, the warriors afraid to strike for fear of hitting Izzah or el-Amin’s favorite horse. His sword point clipped men on every hand as they fought their way free of the crowd, and heeding the shouted directions of Izzah they made their way in a burst of speed to the gate. A single swipe of his blade sundered the lock, and a kick swung the portal aside enough for the great beast to leap through, which he did, taking immediately to the deep desert as a hunting hawk does to the sky.

  Beni Sujiz

  Not wishing to lose one of his father’s prized horses in the venture, Iskandar had chosen to arrive at the douar of Akram el-Amin afoot, his plan being to pilfer one of el-Amin’s prized stallions for the return trip.

  The journey to the douar of el-Amin had taken him a week; but now, mounted upon the wildest, strongest horse he had ever seen, he hoped to return to Beni Sujiz in but two days.

  Being very familiar with the land within two hundred miles of his father’s douar, Iskandar was able to pick choice spots to camp and to rest. They sat during the heat of the first day in an oasis of palms and drank of the waters and ate of the fresh figs.

  Never had Iskandar met a girl so captivating and enthralling. Her beauty was so great that he feared his heart might burst because of his sudden love for her. And for her part beautiful Izzah felt the same. She had been a virtual prisoner in her father’s home. The future had been unwelcome as she knew at some date her father would select some older man for her to wed – a time which of late he had begun hinting at with much greater frequency. She had never dreamed to meet a boy such as Iskandar; he was beautiful to behold, yes, but his beauty also extended to his very nature, he being kind and courteous and considerate in all ways with her.

  The relatively short journey seemed to pass much too quickly for them. Before either knew it they came within sight of the douar of Sheikh Ilyas ibn Saleh. Sighing, for neither knew what the future might bring, they rode slowly down the winding path into the tents of Iskandar’s people.

  There, they were met with great acclaim. The people shouted Iskandar’s name, holding children on their shoulders that they might see their future Sheikh, arriving as he did with the prizes of conquest. Although he had suffered not a single cut in the great mêlée to escape the warriors of Akram el-Amin, his clothing was spattered with the blood of the many behind them that could not say the same.

  They rode directly to his father’s tent, the Sheikh standing in the opening that he might ascertain that which caused all the acclaim. At first he did not recognize his son, mounted upon the great black stallion, and thought it to be some visitor of note. But then he saw Iskandar’s face, and the heart of Ilyas ibn Saleh filled with pride.

  But what was this? A girl – mounted behind him? Who could she be?

  Soon, with their horse led away by one of Ilyas ibn Saleh’s retainers to be cared for after its long journey, the lad and the lass entered Iskandar’s father’s tent with him. Water was brought that they might freshen up; food in the form of mutton, cheese, flat bread, dates, olives and many other viands of the desert were brought that they might break their fast. After they had eaten, fresh strong coffee was poured for them, which they sipped slowly.

  Only now, after caring for his son and guest did the Sheikh ask Iskandar to relate his tale.

  But upon hearing the description of the room full of gold and jewels and other great treasures the like of which would whet the appetite of any Bedouin, and of how his son had dispatched the final wish granted by the djinn, his father waxed wroth, pulling his beard in his anger and frustration.

  “Wullah! Iskandar – you mean you stood there – literally knee-deep in the gold of el-Amin – and you bring me instead his waif? And have you no conception how we might have used that single wish? Why, our wealth could have rivaled el-Amin! You settled for a kaa‘ib when we could have had saddle bags laden in gold and jewels! And what of when Akram el-Amin comes searching for his child? I suppose we could hold her for a steep ransom—“

  “No, father!” disagreed Iskandar. “You commanded that I bring back that which Sheikh Akram el-Amin treasured above all else – and I have! Only Izzah was guarded - while the dusty gold and jewels and the genie you covet all lay in state with nary a sword to prevent their purloining. But as for Izzah, I love her – and she loves me!”

  “Pah! Iskandar, what can you know of love?” cajoled his father. “Why, you are both but children—“

  “As soon as I looked into her eyes I inherited all knowledge of the word!” protested the lad. “When I saw her beauty and mentally compared it to that found in nature as given us by Allah – and that natural beauty c
ame up short – I understood at that divine moment of what the bards sing! I know not how we shall respond to el-Amin, but I know we shall not use my Izzah as bait for a few paltry drops of gold!”

  When he heard his son, Ilyas ibn Saleh knew that, indeed, his son was smitten. Nodding in acquiescence and praying for a sign, he had his daughters take the girl to their tents, consigning her into their attendance.

  And then they waited.

  Nor was it long before emissaries of Sheikh Akram el-Amin arrived at the gates of the douar of Sheikh Ilyas ibn Saleh. Under a flag of truce they entered, and were shown the girl. After many weeks, and a personal visit by Sheikh el-Amin himself to speak with his daughter, a deal was struck.

  It seems that Akram el-Amin did indeed treasure this daughter of the desert – and far more than even she herself realized.

  He had – yes - wished her to marry. But so far none of his own tribe had impressed him as being worthy of the girl, who was his only offspring. The feat Iskandar pulled off had stung and caused incense, to be sure. But afterwards, having time for tempers to cool and to analyze what had happened, even his men realized that the youth’s sword arm and sense of cunning was a blessing from Allah. That a mere lad could infiltrate the douar of one of the wealthiest and greatest Sheikh’s in all Arabia – and steal the man’s only