Another three years later, and Umar could no longer keep Altair in the house. The children lived in houses in the village, as did the assassins’ wives, and they went to school at the Fortress. Later they would all go to live there once they came of age and became initiates. Altair often went to play at Malik’s house because Malik’s mother had a baby in her, and Altair had never seen anything like it. After his classes (learning to read and write, mostly), Umar allowed Altair to go play at Malik’s house, and sometimes Malik came to play at their house. Most often than not, all three were together at Abbas’ house where they pulled all sorts of shenanigans and tricks. Abbas’ house was closer to the market, which provided a healthy and constantly rotating number of specimens for the boys to test out their latest prank. Malik’s house had his mother Fatimah, who had such enormous culinary talent that Umar imagined Faheem stole her straight out of some Emperor’s kitchen. There was nothing at Altair’s house except a master assassin who was not very funny, nor was he a good cook, nor was he a very patient teacher.
Sometimes Umar genuinely believed he failed as a father. He was in his yard swinging his sword at a practice dummy when he heard Malik’s shrill voice carrying over his fence, “Abu Altair! Abu Altair!” As he’d come to expect the constant interruptions, Umar sheathed his sword and crossed his arms over his chest while Malik tumbled into his yard. Abbas followed soon after, and both of them heaved for breath. They looked ridiculous- Malik was wearing some sort of white lungi shift that he might have made himself, especially looking at the way it dangled off his thin frame. Abbas was bare-chested and was only in his underwear. The most ridiculous part of it all was that they were both wearing turbans too big for either of them…
“Malik, Abbas,” Umar growled low on his throat, “did you steal from the market stalls?”
“I- I…” Malik wrung his hands and looked to Abbas, who shrugged and would not meet his eyes.
“Where is my son?”
“I don’t know!” Abbas cried, “we lost him!”
Umar roared like a lion, and both boys nearly soiled themselves. “What do you mean, you lost him?” To show how angry he was, he put his hand on the hilt of his sword as if to draw it and slice the boys’ heads off!
Immediately Malik and Abbas began speaking simultaneously over each other, denouncing each other’s claims and arguing differing points. Umar watched this with a sense of quiet amazement and a fair amount of amusement. He was not really angry. Altair was not actually lost. In fact, Altair came home half an hour ago because he was hungry, and had ate and was currently napping somewhere. Umar took this as an opportunity to teach the boys an important life lesson.
“Allah took Altair because you stole wares from honest merchants,” he told them, and watched Malik nearly fall over in fear.
“Will Allah hurt him?” He whispered, to which Umar only shook his head very slowly.
“Allah in His unfathomable Mercy will not harm Altair, but he will only give Altair back if you return what you have stolen.” He patted Malik’s head with his left hand, and then set his right hand on Abbas’ crown. “Both of you.”
The two boys stammered, “w-we will!” and ran off with blinding speed back towards to markets, jumping over fences and nearly bumping into passer-bys as they went. They were a mini dervish hitting the markets of Masyaf, dodging frightened chickens and ducking out of the way of rattling oxcarts. Finally they found the stall from which they’d stolen their clothes, and realized if they gave back their clothes they would return almost completely naked. They thought it would be fun at first to take off their own clothes and put on these garments on sale, and then walk away like they were adults. But now they were back and their old clothes were nowhere to be found!
“I don’t want to go home naked,” Abbas complained, biting his lip and making a big fuss out of himself.
Malik did not want to be naked either, but he thought of Altair being lost somewhere because of him and his eyes welled up. “I want Altair back!”
“But we’d be naked! My abbun says it is bad to be naked…”
“Altair!” Malik shouted at Abbas, “I want Altair back!” And with that, he stripped the lungi off of himself and walked up to the stand, completely naked. The vendor, who was drawing on a pipe and not paying attention, balked when this small boy came forward with a piece of his wares in his hand. The pipe fell from his mouth and dropped into his long and bushy beard, spilling a bit of white ash into it. “Ay!” he cried when Malik dragged the lungi from the ground onto his sales table, “Ay! Where did you get that!?”
“I stole it,” Malik stated bravely, “and if I give it back Allah will give me back my friend.” He reached towards his head, and then his tiny eyes widened. “No… the turban!” It must have fallen off!
“I have it,” another voice came forth, and- O Allah, it was another naked boy. The vendor shut his eyes very tightly and opened them back up again, but the two boys were still there. Some of the marketgoers had stopped to stare at the odd sight, and the vendor was keen on not making a scene. It appeared quite obvious from afar that the vendor was bullying these poor street urchin boys into giving up their only pieces of clothing! What sacrilege, and the judgment was clear as day in the scowls on the onlookers’ faces. The vendor panicked and frankly told the boys they could keep the lungi and the two turbans for all he cared.
Malik and Abbas returned to Umar’s house dejected and confused. They found the master assassin resting under a tree in his yard, and told him what had just happened.
Umar waited until they had finished before he started grinning in earnest. “Then why are the two of you naked?”
“We gave the clothes to that poor woman that lives outside the gate of the fortress,” Malik said, looking down at the ground. Abbas kept shooting disgusted glares at him, and then finally he could not contain himself.
“Malik you idiot, what is she going to do with two turbans and a lungi?” Hearing this, Malik’s demure attitude shifted immediately and he was fired up again. He attempted to swing a fist at Abbas. “Shut up you bum goat!”
“Both of you shut up!” came a muffled voice from above, and Malik and Abbas abruptly fell silent. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“…Altair?”
Umar smiled from ear to ear, and surreptitiously slipped back into the shade and relative calm of his house. Outside he heard the Malik and Abbas celebrating, shouting things like “Allah has delivered Altair back to us! Altair fell from the sky and landed in a tree! Praise be to Allah! God is Great! Allahu Akbhar!”
Altair peeked out from between the foliage in the trees and honestly had no clue what was going on, but he enjoyed being the center of attention so he said nothing. After a while he noticed Abbas and Malik were naked, and asked them if they’d in fact stolen from that old vendor.
“Yes,” Malik admitted, blushing red to his ears. “And Allah took you away because we did, so we gave it back.” He smiled brightly at Altair, opening his arms wide as if he wanted to embrace him. “So now you are here! We saved you, Altair!”
“Well…” Altair’s face disappeared back behind a thick layer of glossy leaves and reappeared again. “Allah has something for you as well.” He dropped then all the pieces of clothing belonging to Malik and Abbas originally. While Malik and Abbas were busy stealing from the vendor’s stand, Altair took their clothes so they would not get dirty on the ground. Then he got hungry and headed home in a daze, forgetting that he was still holding onto the clothes until he got home. He had hoped Malik and Abbas would not be angry…
“Aie!” Malik and Abbas both caught their clothes like they were blessings from heaven. “Allahu Akbhar! God is Great! He has given us Altair and our clothes back!”
From inside the house, Umar shook his head in wonder. From that day on, his yard would be considered holy by the three boys. They went on pretend pilgrimages to the tree where Altair apparently fell when Allah dropped him from the sky. They pretended they were Prophets and made elaborate speeches under the tree. They worshipped the tree like it was Moses’ bush, bringing it offerings. One time Malik even dragged his father Faheem to the supposed Holy Tree to show him where Altair fell. Malik suggested –no, he demanded- that his brother be born under this tree!
“Well,” Umar mused to Faheem, who was so confused and stunned that he could not keep his mouth closed, “it seems Abbas has got the market at his door, you’ve got a master chef in your kitchen, and I’ve got a Holy Tree in my yard.”
Eternity in the Hands (2)
Another three years later, and Umar could no longer keep Altair in the house. The children lived in houses in the village, as did the assassins’ wives, and they went to school at the Fortress. Later they would all go to live there once they came of age and became initiates. Altair often went to play at Malik’s house because Malik’s mother had a baby in her, and Altair had never seen anything like it. After his classes (learning to read and write, mostly), Umar allowed Altair to go play at Malik’s house, and sometimes Malik came to play at their house. Most often than not, all three were together at Abbas’ house where they pulled all sorts of shenanigans and tricks. Abbas’ house was closer to the market, which provided a healthy and constantly rotating number of specimens for the boys to test out their latest prank. Malik’s house had his mother Fatimah, who had such enormous culinary talent that Umar imagined Faheem stole her straight out of some Emperor’s kitchen. There was nothing at Altair’s house except a master assassin who was not very funny, nor was he a good cook, nor was he a very patient teacher.
Sometimes Umar genuinely believed he failed as a father. He was in his yard swinging his sword at a practice dummy when he heard Malik’s shrill voice carrying over his fence, “Abu Altair! Abu Altair!” As he’d come to expect the constant interruptions, Umar sheathed his sword and crossed his arms over his chest while Malik tumbled into his yard. Abbas followed soon after, and both of them heaved for breath. They looked ridiculous- Malik was wearing some sort of white lungi shift that he might have made himself, especially looking at the way it dangled off his thin frame. Abbas was bare-chested and was only in his underwear. The most ridiculous part of it all was that they were both wearing turbans too big for either of them…
“Malik, Abbas,” Umar growled low on his throat, “did you steal from the market stalls?”
“I- I…” Malik wrung his hands and looked to Abbas, who shrugged and would not meet his eyes.
“Where is my son?”
“I don’t know!” Abbas cried, “we lost him!”
Umar roared like a lion, and both boys nearly soiled themselves. “What do you mean, you lost him?” To show how angry he was, he put his hand on the hilt of his sword as if to draw it and slice the boys’ heads off!
Immediately Malik and Abbas began speaking simultaneously over each other, denouncing each other’s claims and arguing differing points. Umar watched this with a sense of quiet amazement and a fair amount of amusement. He was not really angry. Altair was not actually lost. In fact, Altair came home half an hour ago because he was hungry, and had ate and was currently napping somewhere. Umar took this as an opportunity to teach the boys an important life lesson.
“Allah took Altair because you stole wares from honest merchants,” he told them, and watched Malik nearly fall over in fear.
“Will Allah hurt him?” He whispered, to which Umar only shook his head very slowly.
“Allah in His unfathomable Mercy will not harm Altair, but he will only give Altair back if you return what you have stolen.” He patted Malik’s head with his left hand, and then set his right hand on Abbas’ crown. “Both of you.”
The two boys stammered, “w-we will!” and ran off with blinding speed back towards to markets, jumping over fences and nearly bumping into passer-bys as they went. They were a mini dervish hitting the markets of Masyaf, dodging frightened chickens and ducking out of the way of rattling oxcarts. Finally they found the stall from which they’d stolen their clothes, and realized if they gave back their clothes they would return almost completely naked. They thought it would be fun at first to take off their own clothes and put on these garments on sale, and then walk away like they were adults. But now they were back and their old clothes were nowhere to be found!
“I don’t want to go home naked,” Abbas complained, biting his lip and making a big fuss out of himself.
Malik did not want to be naked either, but he thought of Altair being lost somewhere because of him and his eyes welled up. “I want Altair back!”
“But we’d be naked! My abbun says it is bad to be naked…”
“Altair!” Malik shouted at Abbas, “I want Altair back!” And with that, he stripped the lungi off of himself and walked up to the stand, completely naked. The vendor, who was drawing on a pipe and not paying attention, balked when this small boy came forward with a piece of his wares in his hand. The pipe fell from his mouth and dropped into his long and bushy beard, spilling a bit of white ash into it. “Ay!” he cried when Malik dragged the lungi from the ground onto his sales table, “Ay! Where did you get that!?”
“I stole it,” Malik stated bravely, “and if I give it back Allah will give me back my friend.” He reached towards his head, and then his tiny eyes widened. “No… the turban!” It must have fallen off!
“I have it,” another voice came forth, and- O Allah, it was another naked boy. The vendor shut his eyes very tightly and opened them back up again, but the two boys were still there. Some of the marketgoers had stopped to stare at the odd sight, and the vendor was keen on not making a scene. It appeared quite obvious from afar that the vendor was bullying these poor street urchin boys into giving up their only pieces of clothing! What sacrilege, and the judgment was clear as day in the scowls on the onlookers’ faces. The vendor panicked and frankly told the boys they could keep the lungi and the two turbans for all he cared.
Malik and Abbas returned to Umar’s house dejected and confused. They found the master assassin resting under a tree in his yard, and told him what had just happened.
Umar waited until they had finished before he started grinning in earnest. “Then why are the two of you naked?”
“We gave the clothes to that poor woman that lives outside the gate of the fortress,” Malik said, looking down at the ground. Abbas kept shooting disgusted glares at him, and then finally he could not contain himself.
“Malik you idiot, what is she going to do with two turbans and a lungi?”
Hearing this, Malik’s demure attitude shifted immediately and he was fired up again. He attempted to swing a fist at Abbas. “Shut up you bum goat!”
“Both of you shut up!” came a muffled voice from above, and Malik and Abbas abruptly fell silent. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“…Altair?”
Umar smiled from ear to ear, and surreptitiously slipped back into the shade and relative calm of his house. Outside he heard the Malik and Abbas celebrating, shouting things like “Allah has delivered Altair back to us! Altair fell from the sky and landed in a tree! Praise be to Allah! God is Great! Allahu Akbhar!”
Altair peeked out from between the foliage in the trees and honestly had no clue what was going on, but he enjoyed being the center of attention so he said nothing. After a while he noticed Abbas and Malik were naked, and asked them if they’d in fact stolen from that old vendor.
“Yes,” Malik admitted, blushing red to his ears. “And Allah took you away because we did, so we gave it back.” He smiled brightly at Altair, opening his arms wide as if he wanted to embrace him. “So now you are here! We saved you, Altair!”
“Well…” Altair’s face disappeared back behind a thick layer of glossy leaves and reappeared again. “Allah has something for you as well.” He dropped then all the pieces of clothing belonging to Malik and Abbas originally. While Malik and Abbas were busy stealing from the vendor’s stand, Altair took their clothes so they would not get dirty on the ground. Then he got hungry and headed home in a daze, forgetting that he was still holding onto the clothes until he got home. He had hoped Malik and Abbas would not be angry…
“Aie!” Malik and Abbas both caught their clothes like they were blessings from heaven. “Allahu Akbhar! God is Great! He has given us Altair and our clothes back!”
From inside the house, Umar shook his head in wonder. From that day on, his yard would be considered holy by the three boys. They went on pretend pilgrimages to the tree where Altair apparently fell when Allah dropped him from the sky. They pretended they were Prophets and made elaborate speeches under the tree. They worshipped the tree like it was Moses’ bush, bringing it offerings. One time Malik even dragged his father Faheem to the supposed Holy Tree to show him where Altair fell. Malik suggested –no, he demanded- that his brother be born under this tree!
“Well,” Umar mused to Faheem, who was so confused and stunned that he could not keep his mouth closed, “it seems Abbas has got the market at his door, you’ve got a master chef in your kitchen, and I’ve got a Holy Tree in my yard.”
~ x ~