The Gentle Soul

By JoAnn

I am a gentle soul. Much too gentle for the world in which I live, so I hide it behind the brusqueness of bravado and easy laughter. In my heart lives a poet, in a world where the only poetry is the thrust of a sword and the hard pain of hunger in the eyes of our children. I spend my days as all of us do, scratching out from the earth what little it will bear to keep us alive. The winter has been hard, and many of us have died. But today it is spring, and today, I will not think of these things. I will withdraw from this world for a time, and find peace in the verdant fields of my own mind.

"Where are you going, Gwynlyn? I need you today, it is time for work."

I turned and looked at Mama, framed in the doorway of our poor hut. She was once young and beautiful, I am told. Now her face only reveals the cares that burden her, especially since my father has chosen to keep his vows to the wineskin before his vows to her. I turned back towards home, my head down, knowing my day of freedom was not to be.

Mama stood for a moment, looking at me with an expression of concern. Then she nodded and hugged me. "Go, little flower...work will wait until later in the day. Go…the morning is fresh, and the world is bright." I hugged Mama in return, and then, picking up my skirts, raced for the hill behind our home, knowing that beyond the hill lay my favorite place in the entire world…the meadow.

I came over the rise of the hill, throwing my long brown braid over my shoulder. I stopped at the crest to allow myself the full impact of what lay before me. As far as my eyes could see, there were flowers…white, blue, yellow, gold, red, pink…an endless field of joy. I whooped with glee and raced down the hill, ready to throw myself into its' embrace. I saw my favorite tree over the horizon and headed towards it, grateful that now I could spend the entire morning picking flowers and reciting the stories and poems that I keep to myself. The tree was budded with new leaves, and I anticipated the cool shade I would find beneath its boughs.

As I neared the tree, I began to loosen my gray kirtle, pulling it over my head to leave me dressed in only my blue tunic. No one ever came to the field but me, since many believed it to be a place of ghosts and mystery. I had found only happiness there. I pulled at the kirtle, having difficulty getting it over my head, when suddenly a voice came from behind the tree.

"Do you need help with that?"

I screamed, lost inside the folds of my kirtle, my arms hopelessly tangled in the cloth, unable to pull the small dagger I had tied to my thigh. I felt hands come up and pull the cloth the rest of the way over my head, and I lashed out with my fists, determined to at least give whomever was there a fight before I surrendered my virtue or my life to them.

"Stop, woman! I mean you no harm! I do not harm women!"

My head snapped up as the kirtle finally cleared from my vision, and I was dumbfounded. Before me stood a bronze-skinned man, with raven black hair and the strangest color to his eyes, reminding me of my mother's honey pot, deep amber and sweet. The man's dark clothes were strange as well. I had never seen anyone before with such fine clothes. Perhaps he was a prince or a king, and here I was in my threadbare tunic. I backed away from the man, the more realistic thought entering my mind that perhaps he was a thief, obtaining his finery by murder and mayhem. He put out his hand and caught my arm, a blazing white smile splitting his face, as he seemed to sense my thoughts.

"Nor am I a thief, little one. I am Ahmad Ibn Fadhlan…and I am lost. My horse was stolen during the night as I camped, and I have been walking all morning. Is there a town nearby?"

Still keeping my eyes narrowed and my knife in hiding in case I needed it, I lowered my chin and answered the man. "Yes…our village is over the hill. But we are only a poor village. There is nothing here that you could want." I hoped to dissuade him from looting the village, in case he truly was a thief and only one of many who were yet hiding. He merely smiled at my comment.

"Nothing I could want…ah, you are wrong," he said, his smile gentle yet bold as he appraised me quickly. His perusal washed over me like afternoon sunshine, and I felt warmed by its touch. "But do not worry," he continued. "I am not a thief, as I said. I do not take what does not belong to me…or what is not freely given." I felt he meant more by that than just a crust of bread, but I relaxed as I sensed his sincerity.

We stood a few more seconds, looking at each other as if weighing how much the other could be trusted. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, as my fists unclenched. He smiled again, as if knowing I believed his story and no longer feared him. I felt lost for a moment in that smile…none of the men in the village had ever looked at me as he was doing now. I wanted to keep feeling like this, for as long as possible.

"I do not want to trouble you, but would you mind leading me to the village? I would not like to become lost again. Once in a day is more than adequate." He chuckled as I struggled to pull my kirtle back on, bringing his hands up again to help me pull the recalcitrant length of cloth over my head. His hands brushed the sides of my breasts as he helped me pull it down, and I jumped back, feeling as if I had been burned. He seemed to be surprised, but covered his reaction quickly, his eyes becoming serious and unreadable.

"Yes, I can take you there…you can talk to Old Aiden about obtaining another horse, as well." I turned towards the path that led to the village, motioning for him to come. He picked up his pack that he had left behind the tree and followed me. It was then that I noticed his sword strapped to his side. It seemed very different from any of the swords I had ever seen before. He looked down, following my gaze, and rested his hand on the silver-capped hilt.

"It is of my own design, similar to the swords used in my country."

"Your country? Yes, your accent is very different, although you speak our language well. Where is your country? How do you come to be here, in our land?" My curiosity about him was almost bursting from my chest. He captivated me…in a land where all the men were light-eyed and fair-haired, this man was like a dark jewel imbedded in white quartz. He was beautiful, I had to admit…if a man could be called so.

He lifted the pack over his shoulder as a faraway look came into his eyes. "My country…it has been many years since I have seen it. My…work as an ambassador keeps me constantly on the move. How I miss it. I pray Allah that I see it once more, before I die."

"Allah…this is a strange word."

"Allah…the one God, little one. There is but one God, and Mohammed is his prophet."

"I believe in the one God…but I know not this Mohammed," I replied, finding him even more interesting as he spoke. His voice was rich and deep, and when he spoke of his God, it was with the greatest of seriousness.

I did not know what had come over me. I had told no one on earth of my belief in the one God, or of the man who had told me of Him, a traveler that few people in the village had paid any attention to. My mind was always so hungry for knowledge, for ideas…the traveler had spoken to me as if I had the capacity for deeper thought. This strange, dark man spoke to me in the same manner. Most in the village thought me to be simply odd. The men would not think of taking a woman so strange into their homes, especially one without even a dowry to offer, so I remained with my mother long after the age other women in the village had married and begun their families. I was 19 now…and my prospects were growing dimmer for any hope of marriage. I was sad at this thought, but I had long since decided that I would face my life with courage, no matter what it held for me.

The man broke into my thoughts as he replied, "You know not of Mohammed? I wish I could remain and teach you, little one. But I must leave within a day, or I will miss the travelling party that will take me to my next destination." He took a deep breath and looked around, as the trees above us intertwined, forming a rich canopy of new leaves that shadowed and encircled us. The birds were singing their joy of the spring, as the soft breeze blew, ruffling the man's hair.

"I miss my homeland…but I must say, I have never seen such beauty as I have seen here." He turned and looked at me. "No…not even in the royal court, have I seen such beauty." I looked up at him, unable to understand his meaning, but I felt the effect of his words on my heart. It pounded in my ears, and I felt light-headed and dizzy. Perhaps this man was a magician, casting a spell on me? But I knew instinctively that he was not. What was happening was as old as the earth, as new as the dawn. I didn't have to understand it to realize its truth.

We rounded the curve, emerging from the canopy of trees to arrive in the village. As usual, everyone was bustling about, busy with his or her daily labors and cares. A pair of girls my age walked by, carrying their babies. They usually ignored me, since I was the outcast, but today their eyes were full of intense interest as they eyed the man who walked beside me.

"Gwynlyn…who is the stranger with you?" Marian asked, her eyes travelling boldly over his form as if he were the prize goose in Big Ulrich's shop. Her sister, Elinor, eyed him in the same manner, smiling at the man with a slightly astonished look on her face. Ahmad seemed to garner fathomless fascination wherever he went. I turned towards him, not sure what to say, when he spoke.

"I am Ahmad Ibn Fadhlan. I am a friend of this fair maid."

Marian laughed. "Gywnlyn, a fair maid? With a friend? Now those are odd thoughts, indeed. You must be as strange as she is." I lowered my head, embarrassed that Marian would choose now to express her hatred of me, especially in front of Ahmad.

His expression darkened as he looked over Marian coldly, as if she were a piece of cow dung he had found in the road. She stepped back, apparently sensing his disdain.

His voice was controlled and low when he spoke. "I will excuse your dishonor of her, but only because you are a woman, and a woman of obviously little intelligence. And, because I do not think Gywnlyn would want me to put you over my knee and spank you as the child that you are, here in the village square."

Marian's mouth dropped open and she backed away, dragging Elinor with her. Elinor smiled at Ahmad, apparently grateful someone had the courage to speak to Marian in such a manner. Even Marian's own husband suffered silently under the scourge of her sharp tongue, and it was whispered in the village she had chosen him specifically because he was so weak willed. Ahmad and I watched as they practically ran around the corner of Aiden's stables and disappeared.

I turned to Ahmad and saw this mouth tighten as he tried to hold back his laughter. Finally he lost the battle and began to laugh loudly, and I joined him, feeling the freedom to express myself with him that I had never felt with anyone else. Old Aiden stuck his head out of the stable, wondering what was going on.

"Ho, now, Gywnlyn! What brings you to my door today?"

Ahmad and I stopped laughing as best we could and approached the stable. Old Aiden smiled, seeming to be interested in the stranger (and in what coin the man had to spend.). Ahmad put his pack on the floor and looked around the stable, his keen eye taking in the quality of the horseflesh. His expression showed that he was not impressed. He turned to Aiden, a shrewd expression on his face.

"I am in need of a horse…but not any such as these. I need one that has stamina, endurance, and power."

Old Aiden scratched his grizzled chin. "Hmm…I will admit, these horses are only good for field work, and that is all."

Ahmad began to say something else, when a voice called from outside the stable. "Ho, Aiden, you old carcass! Come and see what I have to sell you today!"

Aiden walked over to the doorway, and we followed. I peeked around the edge and saw the man I most feared in life…Raynulf. He was an evil man, who kept most of the village in fear of him by his threats and violence. He had left my mother and me alone so far, even though he knew we had no man in the home. But I knew it was only a matter of time before he caused us harm. My stomach turned over as I looked at him, and I pulled away from the doorway and flattened my back against the wall.

Aiden walked out to talk to Raynulf. Ahmad turned to me and placed his hand to my cheek. "You are so pale, Gwynlyn," he whispered, as his gaze searched my face. "Your eyes are like the eyes of a cornered rabbit. Do you fear this man? Has he caused you harm?" His voice grew gruff with concern, and I wondered why he would even care what happened to me. He knew nothing about me. And yet…I felt I knew him intimately, despite our just having met. Perhaps he felt the same way.

"He is Raynulf," I whispered. "All who live here fear him. He has caused harm to many. None can stop him. Yes, I fear him, Ahmad. I fear…what he will do to me one day, when I cross his path one time too many." Tears came to my eyes when I considered what he had done to gentle Alyce, and how she had never fully recovered in her mind. Alyce's father and two brothers had attacked Raynulf in retaliation, only to be killed and left where they lay. My mother had helped Alyce's mother and sisters prepare the bodies. I feared to become like Alyce. There was no one to protect me but myself, and I had no skill with a sword. How I hated the world we lived in.

Ahmad's eyes grew cold as he strode out the door and into the sunlight to join Aiden. His eyes widened when he saw the horse Raynulf had brought to be sold. I peeked a little further out the door to see what would happen.

Ahmad circled the white horse slowly. The black saddle on the horse looked costly, and I had never seen one tooled like it before. Raynulf's eyes kept flicking over at Ahmad as he bargained with Aiden, until finally Raynulf turned towards him, his hand on his sword. . "You there…leave this horse, it is mine," he said with a low rumble in his voice, as if brooking no disagreement. Ahmad smiled benevolently, as if Raynulf were a small child to be humored, and turned to Aiden.

"Do not buy this horse from this man, good Aiden," he said, putting his hands casually on his hips. "It does not belong to him. It belongs to another."

Aiden backed away as Raynulf turned his full attention to Ahmad. "Oh, it does, does it? And who would that be?"

"It is mine. And you are the foul dirt that has stolen it."

"I will kill you for that!" Raynulf said, pulling his sword from his scabbard within the blink of an eye. I screamed, terrified that Ahmad would meet an end like Alyce's father and brothers.

Ahmad pulled his strangely forged sword from his own scabbard, and the square was suddenly filled with the sounds of battle. Aiden gathered me into his old, frail arms as a crowd began to gather around us. I turned my face into Aiden's shoulder, crying bitterly at what was most assuredly about to occur. Ahmad would be killed, and then we would all be at the mercy of Raynulf's anger. I looked up and saw my mother approaching, accompanied by Alyce's mother. I cried out for her. Mama came over and embraced me, as Alyce's mother looked with dead eyes at Raynulf, knowing that she would once again cleanse the body of another of his victims, to prepare them for the next world.

The clang of their swords went on and on, as Ahmad fought more bravely and with more strength than any man had ever fought Raynulf before. Raynulf's breath sounded harsh and ragged, whereas Ahmad's barely showed signs of effort. Only his black shirt, soaked in sweat, showed any signs of what was transpiring. Raynulf backed away, holding his sword in front of him, gasping for breath.

"What manner of man are you?" Raynulf panted, confusion on his face as he regarded Ahmad.

"A better man than you, no doubt," Ahmad replied. At that, Raynulf charged him, his sword drawn back to decapitate Ahmad and be done with him. Ahmad, lighter on his feet and still energetic, sidestepped Raynulf easily. In a rage, Raynulf swung back with his sword wildly. Ahmad's sword met his, and with a twist of his body, Ahmad flung Raynulf's sword out of his hands. Raynulf fell to the ground, gasping for air. His eyes were red with hatred as he looked up at Ahmad. Ahmad touched his sword to Raynulf's chest, and said very quietly, "Leave this place. Do not return."

Raynulf crawled backwards on his hands, dragging his backside in the dirt. Ahmad pulled his sword away, his eyes never leaving Raynulf until he rose to his feet and ran from the crowd. I came to Ahmad's side, wiping the sweat and dirt from his eyes with the edge of my kirtle. "Thank you," I whispered. He put his arm around me, and in front of the entire village, kissed me sweetly, like I was the most honored woman in all the land. A few of the townspeople gasped. My mother stepped forward, my name on her lips.

At that moment, a scream came from the edge of the crowd. Raynulf had taken the sword that Aiden kept in the stable and raced towards Ahmad, lifting the sword high over his head in order to strike a deadly blow. Ahmad pushed me behind him as he lifted his own sword to meet him. Suddenly, Raynulf stopped cold, a stunned expression on his face as he fell to the ground at Ahmad's feet. We looked on in shock as he rolled over, a deep sword wound in his back. He was dead. Our eyes lifted, and we saw Alyce's mother standing behind the body, Raynulf's sword of defeat in her hands. The sword was massive, but somehow she had found the power to not only lift it, but use it.

Her eyes met mine, her deep blue ones finding understanding in my dark brown. She looked down at Raynulf, and then at the townspeople.

"No more," she said. That was all that needed to be said. A few of the men came forward and picked up the limp body of Raynulf. "No more," they said to her, one by one, as they carried him out of the square.

That evening, the townspeople opened their hearts to Ahmad, and welcomed him as one of their own. With the specter of Raynulf lifted from us, some of the joy that had once lived in our hearts began to return. We gathered together, feasting and drinking mead, as the young people danced and sang by the bonfire the townsmen had lit. The young women of the village practically fought tooth and nail to be near Ahmad, but he only smiled and kindly brushed them off, remaining by my side the entire evening and talking to my mother and I. I did not know why he did not take the girls up on their most explicit offers, but he did not. He kept his gaze only on my face, and I did not understand it. But I had never been so happy in my life.

After obtaining permission from my mother, Ahmad asked if I would like to take a walk with him. It was dark, and usually this was forbidden, but I allowed him to take my hand and lead me out to the canopied trail. The darkness of the trail was like a cloak of ermine, like a caress, and I shivered when he led me into it.

"Are you cold?" he asked. He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side. The feel of his hard, muscled body next to mine made me feel like melting ice after the winter's cold. I was liquid, soon to be steam.

"No…I'm…not cold…I…I don't know what I am," I said, turning my face towards him. I could only see his silhouette in the dark, but the glittering of his eyes was discernable…and mesmerizing.

He lifted his hand to my chin, and whispered, "I don't know what I am either…I did know, until I…met you. Now I don't know…I only know…this…" He bent his head to capture my lips in a kiss unlike any I had ever imagined. This was not the sweet kiss of relief and gratitude he had given me earlier. This one bespoke fire, warmth, heat, and an emotion I had never felt before…desire. He put his arms around me and pulled me close, flattening my body against his. I could feel the hardness of his muscles and the brush of his clothes against my chest, causing my nipples to peak beneath him. He pulled me tighter against him as he deepened the kiss, and I moaned, overtaken by the feelings he brought out in me.

He broke the kiss, his breathing hard and fast, and pulled me away from him. "Gwynlyn…I…you know I have to leave tomorrow. I do not want to dishonor you, I know without a doubt you are a maid, and…"

I put my arms around him, pulling him close once more. "Then do not leave, Ahmad. Stay here…where all who live owe you their loyalty, and…who love you."

He gently pulled my hair free from its braid, burying his face in it as he dipped his head. "If it were possible," he whispered, "I would forget my own name, all that I am, even Allah Himself, to remain here with you. But I cannot."

I lowered my chin to hide my tears. "I know," I murmured.

We stood in the forest for a long time, in the circle of each other's arms…afraid to move and bring forth the dawn a moment sooner.

The next morning, almost the entire town appeared to bid Ahmad goodbye. I came with Mama, my heart sorrowful unto death at the thought that I would never see his face again. When we arrived, he was tying the last of his pack onto his horse, as the ladies of the village hugged him. The men shook his hand, their faces stern but with a hint of the gratitude they felt showing in their eyes. Ahmad turned towards me as I approached, and he unashamedly took me into his arms and hugged me tightly. I nodded to him as he released me, letting him know I understood how things must be between us. With a final look around, he put his foot into the saddle, and lifted himself up onto the horse. The people began to bid him farewell, as he turned the horse towards the canopied trail. I bit my lip, wanting to cry out and beg him to stay. Mama put her arms around me, understanding as only another woman can, the pain I was feeling. I watched Ahmad's retreating back as he rode away, and I closed my eyes, unable to endure any more.

Suddenly he turned the horse back sharply. He stood up in the saddle and called out my name.

"Gywnlyn! Do you believe in the one God?"

My head snapped up at his voice, and I instinctively replied with the truth. "Yes, I do!"

"Do you believe that He leads His creations to their destinies?"

I could not understand why he was asking these things. "Yes, I do believe that!" I called out.

"Then follow the destiny the one God has given us…come with me, Gwynlyn!"

I turned and looked at Mother. Her eyes already held the answer. "Go," she said, giving me a little push. I picked up my skirts and ran towards Ahmad. As I once ran to throw myself into the joy of the meadow, I ran to throw myself into the arms of my love. I knew I would find even greater joy within his embrace than the meadow had ever held for me.

Ahmad leaned down out of the saddle and swept me up in front of him, enfolding me in his arms as he kissed me deeply. I flung my arms around him, knowing that anywhere upon the earth that we traveled in the future, I would always be home. He would be my home, just as I would be his.

The ways of the one God are mysterious, the traveler once told me. He had forgotten to add wondrous to the list.