Shajarat Al-Durr was standing on the city wall of Al-Qahira and observing the comings and goings of ships on the white sea in the distance. There, a huge merchant ship with white sails was leaving towards Eskenderia, on whose masts fluttered the flag of the sun on the back of an elephant in the sea breeze. Its captain was from the far eastern Sultanate, the Sultanate of Mashreq. It was newly built at the shipyard of Al-Qahira. After being loaded with goods at Eskenderia, it would run from port to port on the continent of Seleonia in the north. Not far away, another ship was coming towards Al-Qahira with a white and green sail. A flag bearing the image of a black sheep fluttered proudly on the top of its masts. It came from a port in Normania, a kingdom north of the Seleonian continent It might be carrying pearls of various colors and sizes. These pearls would adorn the necks and dresses of sultanas like her or the young mistress of an old emir's harem. And some pearls would go east again in camel caravans to the port city of Saba, then to the eastern lands of Mashreq, Mohini, and Tarumanagara. In exchange for these pearls, the sailors would take a shipload of precious crystals like turquoise, rubies, and sapphires brought from the land of Mohini. The kings and queens of Seleonia would paint their portraits with its powder. A deadly weapon of assassination, poison, would also be made by crushing these stones. Some powerful emirs, kings, or queens would die at the cold blue touch of that commotion.
Shajarat Al-Durr continued to look out to the sea. The white foamy water of the pale sea was dancing wildly in the whirling wind. The murky waters of the turbulent River Hapi, flowing from the south through the heart of the vast desert of Nabia, and falling on the tumultuous waters of the White Sea, clashed incessantly. As a result, the whirpools created in the estuary were becoming more and more restless. Shajarat al-Durr's heart was restless too. She was waiting for a royal hawk to bring news from Falisa. For the past two weeks, no messenger bird or qasid had come from her beloved Sultan, Al Sadiq. Not even a ship came from Falisa with letter from Al Sadiq. The last time the news arrived, the sultan had defeated the Seleonian heathens at the Battle of Gazalia and was pursuing them towards Falisa, their last stronghold on the coast of Emiriya. When the Sultan would remain busy at war, he would not pay attention to any other aspect. Not even to his beloved sultana, Shajarat Al-Durr. Still, Shajarat waited for her beloved, with a heart full of agony and eyes filled with tears.
Most of her twenty-five years of life were spent waiting. She could vaguely remember waiting for her shepherd father to return in the evening with his flock of horses, sheep, and goats, sitting by the fire as a child in their tent on the Chuman steppe. Then she spent most of her childhood as a slave in the Urdu of the Barlas barbarians, after they raided her father’s tent. She never saw her parents again. Nor could she know what happened to them. Shackled in the tent of her Barlas slaver while plucking wool from sheepskin, she only waited eagerly when she would get an opportunity to escape far away from the captivity of the Barlas barbarians. She would still wait when she was sold to a fat slave trader in Shahrizar at the age of eleven. That waiting was for a marginally better fate, not for redemption. By then, she had learned that a steppe girl had to live outside her own tent, either as a spoil of another nomadic tribe or as a slave in a distant land.
That slave trader had an unclean, wrinkled old maid who would teach his slave girls songs, dances, and flirtatious ploys to entice the wealthy emirs. The elderly woman would do all kinds of atrocities on the girls in order to ease her resentment at having lost her youth. Shajarat would wait for her future buyer, in whose harem she at least hoped to be rescued from this unbearable torture, while enduring that old woman's flogging. Sometimes the merchant would come to the chamber of the maids. His eyes were mostly on Shajarat. That pervert merchant used to satisfy his lust by abusing her in front of everyone. The merchant did not spoil her virginity. Her beauty had just started to bloom at that time. He kept her virginity intact as he realized that in her youth, she could outshine the world's fairest maids in beauty, and he could sell her to any rich emir of Emiriya at a high price. But every night the merchant would ride on her in front of everyone. Enduring the touch of the merchant's manhood on the cleavage of her hips each night, she waited to be auctioned in the slave market. She was finally put up for auction at Shahrizar's slave market at the age of sixteen. The vizier of the Emir ul Muazzam, Emir Al-Fadl bin Sufiani, paid twenty thousand sun-marked gold dinars for her. She was bought by Al Fadl to give as a gift to the Emir ul Muazzam. But her burning beauty would drive even Al Fadl out of control. Before sending her to the Emir ul Muazzam, the lustful vizier, Al Fadl, used to lick every inch of her body for a month. Shajarat's body and mind would both shake with hatred. But she used to pretend to have a lustful look on her face while being naked and waited to be sent to the harem of the Emir-ul-Muazzam.
She got some relief in the harem of the Emir ul Muazzam, Muawiya bin Sakhr. The Emir ul Muazzam had five thousand female bodyguards around him. In addition to Chuman slave girls like Shajarat, slave bodyguards of various nomadic tribes brought from different parts of the world were trained to be the Emir's bodyguards. He also had countless beautiful concubines in his harem. Though he was surrounded by so many beautiful women, Emir Muawiya had no ability to do anything. The wanton luxuries and overindulgences during his youth had made him impotent. Sometimes, the Emir tried to regain his lost wealth by bringing a naked Shajarat into his bed chamber. But each time, he would send her back after being disappointed due to his weakness. Shajart thought her wait for a comfortable life had come to an end. She thought she could spend the rest of her life in the harem of that impotent Emir without being touched by any other man. But in an irony of fate, she got involved with Al-Sadiq. She fell in love with her beloved sultan.
With Al Sadiq, another chapter of waiting began for Shahjarat. On the way, Al-Sadiq received the news of his father’s, Sultan Al-Nasir Yusuf’s, death while he was taking Shajarat to Halfia after he snatched her from Muawiya's harem. Al Sadiq went to war for the throne against his elder brother, Al Afzal, leaving her in the fortress of Kariban. In the fortress of Kariban, surrounded by a handful of bodyguards and servants, the eighteen-year-old Shajarat would wait. She used to stand on the ramparts of the fortress and wait day and night. As far as the eye could see on that horizon, her eyes would look for the traces of sand raised by the horses of the returning Sultan. Sometimes Al Sadiq would return, either after conquering a city or fortress or retreating in a battle. When she entered the palace of Al-Qahira two years later with the victorious Al Sadiq, she did not know that her wait was not over. She found her place as a concubine in the harem of the mighty Sultan Al Sadiq of the Gardi Sultanate. Where the sultan's legitimate sultanas were daughters of powerful viziers or princesses of neighboring sultans, Al-Sadiq would hardly have the time or courage to care for an insignificant Chuman concubine, even if that concubine was the most beautiful woman in the world. Still, Shajarat waited. She would wait for those auspicious moments—the nights when she was called to the Sultan's bed. Years passed by when the Sultan finally consolidated his power on the throne and gave her the status of Sultana. Even after two miscarriages, though she could not give the Sultan any children, he did not set her aside. Although Sultan’s first wife, Ismat al-Din Khatun, was the Sultanatul Azam, or the elder of the sultanas, Shajarat's influence inside the palace was no less than that of Ismat Khatun. By that time, she had also learned the game of power to cope with Ismat, the daughter of the grand vizier. Most of the Mamalik slave soldiers—the backbone of the army of the Gardi sultanate—were her native Chumans. With the support of her native soldiers, she could exert immense influence on the Sultan. From then on, Sultan Al-Sadiq used to spend most of the nights in the bed chamber of Shajarat.
But the wait was not over for Shajarat. She thought she finally had her beloved as her own. But again, her sultan had to wear armor. For the seventh time, the heathen kings of the Seleonian kingdoms attacked Emiriya in the name of a crusade. Handing over the charge of Al-Qahira and the royal palace to her, the sultan rushed to war. Since then, she has been waiting for her sultan again. She was waiting for the sultan's letter.
The soft late afternoon sun fell on her face. The bright sun of the noon had become soft by then. The western wind from the river Hapi was touching her cheeks by removing her niqab over and over. She wore a long robe, like the elite Mashareti women, which covered her from the neck to the feet. On her forehead was an ornamented gold tiara. Her long, red hair was shining in the sunlight like it was being kissed by fire. She braided that hair and kept it in front of her right shoulder. Next to her stood a huge Nabian eunuch, holding an umbrella over her head. Behind her was her handmaiden with a fruit basket. The iced, fresh black grapes glistened in the sun. Seeing that, the maid couldn't control her temptation to put one or two into her mouth. Shajarat was pretending not to see it.
"Sultana, Ismat Khatun is going tomorrow to the fort of Dabus with her father, the grand vizier." Said the maid, gulping down a large grape. The sultanas used to gather information about the harem from their handmaidens. Thus, a sultana would always keep an eye on her other consorts. And if she found any fault in someone, she would point it out to the sultan and try to deprive her of the sultan's favor. This maid of hers was very diligent in this work of information gathering.
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"Who did you hear from, Fatin?" Shajarat said this without turning towards her. "Is it really true?"
"Aye, Sultana." Fatin shook her head. Then she came close to Shajarat and whispered, "I have received news from inside the chamber of the elder sultana. Please tell this frigging nigger to go away. Then I will say." She pointed to the umbrella holding Nabian Eunuch. Waving her hand, Shajarat ordered the eunuch to leave.
"Buluk, the guard of Ismat Khatun's chamber, told me. He comes to sleep with me at midnight every day. Khatun was telling this to her sister right in front of him." Fatin whispered.
She narrowed her eyes and asked Fatin, "Buluk comes to you to do what? Isn’t he an eunuch?"
"Being an eunuch didn’t end the hunger in his eyes, Sultana." Fatin replied with a naughty smile. "He just keeps staring at my naked body in the middle of the night and doing sweet talks."
"Do you know who else will go?" Shajarat asked, interrupting the savory talk of her maid.
"Sultan's cousin, Emir Shirkuh, is going. And some Gardi and Nahdi Salars will accompany them. That's all Buluk heard, Sultana.” Fatin replied. She was disappointed, as she couldn't continue the bawdy conversation about Buluk the eunuch and her nightly adventure.
"Tell Bybers to come here immediately!" Shajarat ordered the maid. She was lost in thought. Why would the Grand Vizier and his scheming daughter, Ismat, go to the fortress of Dabus? Shirkuh was going with them too. She never liked this brown-eyed general. He always had an evil plot in his mind. Shirkuh was the commander of the soldiers from the Gardi tribe, the Sultan's own tribe. And the soldiers of the fortress of Dabus were from the Grand Vizier's own tribe, the Nahdi tribe. Because of Sultan's long absence and no news of him, they must have been looking for an opportunity for some conspiracy.
"There is another interesting news, Sultana! Ismat Khatun’s handmaiden is impregnated by the Crown Prince, Turan Shah.” Fatin giggled, leaving.
She wrinkled her nose after hearing the name of Turan Shah. How could such a drunken and lustful son like Turan be born to such a personable father as the Sultan? she wondered. No doubt it was the fault of the Nahdi blood Turan Shah inherited from his mother. At the age of seventeen, Turan had all the traits to be as mischievous and unruly as he could be. And with the indulgence of his arrogant mother and sly grandfather, his wickedness increased a hundredfold. He even dared to enter the chamber of one of the Sultan's concubines. As he was the only heir, Sultan did not punish him. Reaching the extreme limits of misadventure, he turned his evil eyes at Shajarat. Though Turan did not dare to do or say anything directly, Shajarat was familiar with the man's gaze. Tuaran’s lust did not escape her eyes.
"What is the order for your servant, Sultana?" Bybers kneeled down in front of her, laying down his sword.
Bybers, a fifty-year-old veteran Chuman warrior, was one of her confidants. As a child, he was sold as a slave to the Gardi Sultanate by Barlas barbarians. Like other Chuman slaves, he joined the Mamalik army, which was made up of slave soldiers. Due to his strict devotion to the Sultan, he earned the honor of royal bodyguard. The Sultan made him the sworn sword of Shajarat.
"Have you received any news of the Sultan, Bybers?" She asked.
"No, your grace." Bybers replied with his head down. "It has been seven days since the last messenger bird or any mail horse arrived. The Sultan is preparing to strike the final blow on the besieged city of Falisa. He is very busy with this."
"Immediately send a spy to Falisa. How many Mamalik warriors are there in the capital?
"Sultana, we have five thousand horsemen. And among the city guards, there are several Mamalik captains with their loyal infantrymen. Most of them are Chuman warriors.”
"Do you know that the Grand Vizier and Shirkuh are going to Dabus with the Gardi captains?"
Bybers looked at her in surprise. "What are you saying, Sultana? The Grand Vizier and the Honorable General Shirkuh will march toward Falisa with reinforcements."
"I have got news that they will go to Dabus. The cat-eyed Nahdi wench, Ismat, will also go with them.” Her eyes lit up in anger. "Sultan has not been in the capital for a few days, and they have already started plotting!"
"I am taking care of this, Sultana! Don't worry. The loyal Mamalik soldiers are on your side.” Bybers said it fiercely. "I will send some of our Mamalik horsemen to follow them."
"Just following will not do.You send two hundred Chumans in disguise.” Harshness was visible on her graceful face. "If it is seen that they are changing their course, they will be arrested. Until the Sultan comes back, they will be detained somewhere in the desert of Nabia. When the Sultan returns, they will be released with a ransom. That would make everyone think that it was the Nabian bandits who kidnapped them.”
"As you ordered, Sultana!" Bybers bowed to her as he went up.
Shortly after leaving, Bybers came back again with a Mamalik soldier, rushing. The soldier's clothes were dusty and torn. It was clear that he had come from far away. He had a visible impression of fatigue on his face. He somehow knelt down. Then he opened his mouth with difficulty. His throat was dry and sore due to the long journey.
"I am coming from the Shimber Fortress, Sultana! Two horses died under me in the restless march.” He said, panting. "Mamalik General Aybek sent me with the news of the Sultan."
"What about the Sultan?" Shajarat asked in a worried voice. She smelled a bad omen. "Where is he? How is he? Why did it take him so long to send the news?"
"The siege of Falisa has failed, Sultana! King Luther of Celecia showed up with his vast fleet, crossing the pale sea during the war. The Celecian army caught us from the rear.” He covered his face with both hands while saying. Then he started crying. "Our great Sultan is seriously injured. His life is in danger. General Aybek has sent me to you directly while keeping this news secret.”
Shajarat's heart fluttered. She found it difficult to keep herself calm. She asked in a cold voice, "And what about our army?" Where are the forces retreating from Falisa now?”
"They are routed, Sultana! Some of the captains fled toward Halfia. Some went to Al-Beyt. General Aybek retreated to Shimber with the injured Sultan.” The messenger replied with a sigh. "Luther's army captured Hylama and besieged the port of Numan from both the land and the sea. Numan's small garrison will not be able to hold them back for long. After that, it might be Al Beyt's turn, Sultana!"
"I'll leave for Shimber right now, Bybers! From there, I will go to Al Beyt with Aybek.” Shajarat said, turning to Bybers. "Make arrangements for my journey. And send messenger birds to all the Mamalik commanders with the news that Sultan Al Sadiq orders them to appear at once at Al Beyt. I am entrusting the royal seal to you.”
"But, Sultana!" Bybers wanted to say something in a hesitant voice. Shajarat stopped him, raising her hands.
"Give seven of the best guards with me." She spoke in a tone of command. Her throat was parched. However, Shajarat kept herself strong in front of Bybers. "And give three horses per person. The news of my departure should not even be heard by an ant."
Bybers nodded in agreement. Shajarat walked towards the palace, giving him instructions: "You will leave immediately with five thousand Mamalik horsemen after detaining the Grand Vizier and his companions. We must protect Al Beyt at all costs.”
The sun had already set when Shajarat was galloping towards Shimber with seven guards an hour later. The vast desert around them was silent. Only the whisper of the sandy south wind from the heartlands of the desert could be heard. This land of yellow sand and black rocks was the northernmost part of the Nabian desert. There was only greenery on both banks of the Hapi River, which runs through the desert. That fertile green land was called Mahrusa, or protected land, by the Nahdi people. The desert on both sides of Mahrusa and the turbulent sea to the north kept it protected. This western part of the Gardi Sultanate on the Nabian continent was the envy of neighboring sultanates.
As they galloped, she suddenly felt a great pain from her waist to her lower abdomen. She felt a trickle of warm blood on her thighs. She realized that her menstrual cycle had started. Her body twisted in pain. Reluctantly, Shajarat ordered the guards to stop beside a hillock covered with bushes. Then she took a piece of cloth from her bag and went to the other side of the hillock to clean herself. As soon as she stood up, someone grabbed her face from behind. She felt the sharp touch of a dagger on her throat.
"Your guards are scattered, Sultana! I can finish you and run away before they can do anything. So please listen quietly. I am not the enemy.” The attacker said it in a hoarse voice. He removed his hand from Shajarat's face. "Luther's army will not go for Al Beyt. They will march to conquer Eskenderia and Al-Qahira. You should prepare to protect Shimber. I'll be around you. I will try to help you as much as possible. In return, I will ask for your help after the war.”
Shajarat was frozen in fear. By that time, she had recovered. She turned back and saw the man. His face could not be seen, as it was covered with a part of his turban. She could only see his two sharp eyes. But she was reassured by not seeing any sign of hostility in those eyes. Shajarat asked in a low voice, "Who are you?"
The man did not answer immediately. His horse came out from behind as he whistled sharply. "Remember me," he replied as he stepped into the horse's stirrup. I am Sinan. Rashid Al Din Sinan. Leader of the Najjaries and Fidayeens.”
Shajarat Al-Durr was stunned with surprise. By that time, the mysterious Fidayeen leader’s horse had started to run. He merged into the darkness of the night in the desert before her eyes.