[h1]Arabia[/h1]
[h2]Dumat Al-Jandal[/h2]

Leaning in the saddle, Arabicus sat perched atop the horse. His hands tied to the horn as an Arab lead his mare across the rocky sands. Spindly, naked shrubs and bare trees loomed in the distance and in loose rolling dune. Around him the armed procession that lead the noble captive kept a brisk foot as they lead their own horses and camels along the hoof-trodden road.

Staring ahead Arabicus watched with a tired, angry glare the form of a distant castle rise up over the barren wasteland around it. Set on a pier of jagged sandstone, the golden-brown stone castle on the distance stood as a port of civilization in a sandy ocean. From its perch the walls cascaded down the shallow hill into the rocky desert, spilling out around the distant stone keep a carpet of civilization. The faint suggestion of a town stood there within the walls with the black banners of the new Arab empire flying proud and at full mast ahead.

As the prisoner caravan marched on it merged into the strung-out bands of twisting Bedouin caravans marching from the desert into the east. The stench of sweating camels was harsh and bitter, and Arabicus reeled against the putrid stench of the unwashed animals as they came to walk along side. There was laughter and jeering in Arabic, but none of which the noble could not understand. He sneered and shot glowering looks at the mud-faced and sandy Arabs. But his loud and offended expression did little to shy the infidels away as they gleamed tauntingly up at him in the saddle, waving at him their wooden walking sticks and insulting his character.

They walked on across the desert until they were upon the gates of the glowing Arabic castle. Armored guards watched with due vigilance as they rode in through the gates. And mounting his horse the Abyssinian joined up with Arabicus.

“Dumat al-Jandal.” exclaimed the Abyssinian as they passed under the modest entryway of the castle's portculis. Riding in through the narrow streets they soon found themselves bumping foot-to-shoulder with the locals and caravan runners who competed for jostling space in the narrow mud-brick walls of the castle and the community under neath it. Cut atop the sharp sandstone the mud and stone brick hovels of the residents sat low in the glowing heat of the sun. Women stood over-head, waving out the dust that had accumulated through that point of the day and raining down onto the streets below the fine silt that had packed into their wicker carpets.

“I was with the Sword of God himself when he came upon this castle twice to issue Allah's deliverance!” he declared proudly as he adjusted in his saddle. He smiled a bright beaming smile. His eyes shone with a deep pride.

“And I am here now to be finally sold to some putrid kinsman?” sneered Arabicus as he observed a slave-train being lead through the streets. The flowery pale skin and dirty golden and brown hair of the captives dictated much about who they were. Roman captives, though he could not name from where. They were tugged through the streets with bowed heads as their master lead them from horse-back ahead.

“You are too much!” boasted the African with a wide and tricky smile, “You are worth too much to be sold here. You are to go to the Caliph himself, Allah bless his rule!”

“And why is that? Am I some sacrifice to your heathen god?” Arabicus growled without shame or surrender. Though he was bound he was not about to stop the fight. No matter how much he was fed, watered, or cleaned.

“Allah desires no sacrifice but surrender to his might.” the Abyssinian explained, “The physical body is of no use to the Blessed Lord. But his service and his spirit. His will is powerful, and through it we will have liberation! Salvation from Iblis and the false desires of Hell.

“Someday the reckoning judgment of God will come, and it will be by the weight of our conviction that we will be judged. By his True Word as given to the world by the prophet Muhammad, blessed be his name.”

“You have conviction.” Arabicus pointed out, with only shallow praise and sharp sarcasm.

“It is my conviction which lead me here twice to see the will of the holy prophet carried out.” the Abyssinian cheered, waving his hand across the city before him, “And now I come to Dumat al-Jandal, if not of God's design perhaps.”

“Then why are we here?” Arabicus challenged.

“From here it is thirteen days to Medina. It is here the clans and tribes meet when crossing the desert. And it's here we shall resupply our rations and make the journey.

“But tell me, do you know what happened here?” asked the African, there was the sing-song note of excitement.

“I do not know, and I do not care.” Arabicus sneered.

“Then let the story be told!” the Abyssinian cheered, “We rode north to here from Medina, there number four-hundred of us. Sent by his holiness the Prophet Mohammad, blessed is his name, we were to charge upon the lord of the keep an ultimatum and invitation for the unity of all Arabs. I was once a slave, and then a free man I joined with the force lead by Khalid.

“We arrived and found the king who resided here. Capturing him we slew his brother and as the lord knelt before Khalid he was given the demands Muhammad had sent north. The king, a Christian who leaned towards Rome had become a cowering retch at the heels of the holiest of warriors.

“At Khalid's disposal the lord turned up and said that if it would save his people he would accept the word of Allah and reject Rome. Pleased with himself, Khalid ordered us to leave and we rode back to Medina.”

Arabicus stared straight-faced down the winding trodden sandy road as they slowly snaked through the market center of the castle. They entered a square and the other men broke off, leading camels and horses laden with loot. “On the second excursion Khalid again led us in force to this town.” the African continued, “It was here that natives had continued to worship a shrine to the pagan gods and they must be brought to the true faith. The lord of the castle had permitted this foul deed to be carried out. And in the desert just outside the wall we found their false idol and the worshipers.

“But seeing us they picked up arms and tarried against us. Battle commences. I slew many of the heathens before they were defeated in their entirety. For their worship of false idols and their aggression Khalid had them killed to the last soul. And with picks and rocks we shattered their heathen idol and dashed the pieces against the rocks.

“I have heard it said to me that we were so complete that the wives of the hostile pagans we slew came out to weep until they perished over the corpses of their fallen husbands. They did not accept Islam, and so they died lost. Ishallah, they will eventually find paradise still if Allah judges their hearts as kind. But they will without doubt miss the sweetest waters promised to the followers.”

“What a story, heathen.” Arabicus snickered with a sharp tongue.

“Pray you see Allah's greatness.” scoffed the Abyssinian.