In no time at all we passed the city gates, and proceeded along the main road which ran beside the Tigris River which, at that time of the year, was little more than a turgid stream, much withered between its rock-bound banks. The stone of the region was pale pink, and the colour had seeped into the land, making the dust and soil ruddy. The further from the city we travelled, the more desolate the surrounding hills became. We soon left the few outlying settlements-with their pink, cracked-mud hovels and tiny, scrupulously tended fields-far behind.
We rode through the morning, pausing only briefly to water the horses. I had never ridden so far all at once, and it was not long before I began to feel the ache in my legs. Faysal observed my distress. "In a few days, you will feel like you were born to the saddle." He laughed at the face I made at this, and informed me, "Do not worry, my friend. We will rest during the heat of the day."
The sun was so hot by then that I reckoned the resting place he spoke of could not be far. But when Sadiq showed no sign of halting, I asked Faysal if he thought the amir had forgotten. "He has not forgotten, never fear," he laughed. "See the trees?" He squinted far ahead into the distance towards a dusty green clump amidst the pale pink rocks. "We can shelter there."
Indeed, we might well have sheltered there, but we did not. Upon reaching the place, we rode on. I looked back longingly, and Faysal laughed, and pointed to another clump of trees on the horizon. Alas, we passed those, too, and another as well before the amir at last turned his mount towards the welcome shade of a tamarisk grove.
The instant the mare came to a halt, I threw myself from the saddle, and only then realized how very sore I had become. It was all I could do to stand upright, and I could not take a step without wincing. "We water the horses first," Faysal said; he spoke in a kindly way, but his meaning was clear enough. I hobbled after him, leading Yaqin to the riverbank where she could drink her fill. We then unsaddled our mounts and staked them to long tethers beneath the trees so they could graze on whatever they might find.
Only then did we refresh ourselves, returning to the river a short way upstream of where the horses had drunk. There we knelt on the damp soil, splashed water over our heads, filled our mouths with water and spit it out once more. The water was too silty to drink, but it wet our mouths. We quenched our thirst from the waterskins the mules carried. And then we settled down beneath the trees to rest.
The rafiq talked in low voices among themselves, and I lay back half-asleep listening to the murmur of their speech-like the lazy drone of insects humming in the shade beneath the trees. I do not remember sleeping; indeed, I do not think I closed my eyes at all. I was simply leaning with my back against the tree, staring up through the shadowed leaves into the pale blue sky above, when all at once I saw the heavens opened up and a great golden city revealed.
I made to cry out, so the others might see this marvel, but my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth and I could not utter a sound, so I watched in mute amazement as the dazzling city descended slowly from the sky. The glorious place gleamed and shone with a radiance far surpassing any earthly light, and this gave me to know that I was seeing the Heavenly City itself.
As if to confirm this assumption, there came a sound like that of the ocean in full gale: a deep-booming roar of majestic and limitless power, a voice to shake the foundations of the earth. The wind-wail swelled until it filled all the world; my inward parts vibrated with the sound, and I felt as if the ground whereon I lay might crumble beneath me and flow away like water. Strangely, no one else appeared to notice either the terrible din or the sharp, bright rays of light streaming all around.
I tried to stand, to run, but had lost control of my limbs and could not move. I could but stare, transfixed as the white-clothed citizens of the Heavenly City began streaming earthward on the piercing shafts of light-angels, speeding to earth on various mercies and intercessions. The sound I heard was that of the ceaseless movement of their wings as they hurtled down.
How, I wondered, was it possible that this sound was not heard among men? For the mighty wind-roar permeated all the world, and filled the heavens. Indeed, it seemed more substantial than any mere created thing, and more enduring-a tremendous column to uphold the fabric of the world.
One of the heavenly minions flew towards me, striking down from the sky like lightning. Towering above the tree where I reclined, his face shining with all the intensity of the sun, he gazed down upon me with fearful severity. "How long?" he said, shaking the leaves on the branches with the force of his demand.
