Small Packages

By Samantha

I don't have much time. The caravan will begin moving in a few moments. The guide shouts to the helpers, "We must leave!" I lean to hug my friend as we crouch behind the last load of rugs and supplies to go on the camels' backs. She helps me crawl inside the millet sack, and draws the string. There is no turning back now.

I feel the sack pulled into the air and I'm suddenly slung over the camel's back, my scant weight giving no hint to the lifter that I am inside. I wham against the camel, the breath knocked out of me, my stomach against its back, thankfully between its humps. More sacks are slung over me. Finally, a cover is placed over all the sacks, and I am in total darkness. Thus begins a very long journey of longer days and shorter nights, stowing bruised and miserable in the sack, jostling over miles of terrain, being dropped down to the ground each night to give the beast of burden rest. I crawl in the darkness to eat scraps of food tossed by the camel drovers. I wait until they are all asleep to use their water supply, and to slip off to relieve myself. The clothes I have stolen from my brother are filthy, and I reek. But I am determined to accompany Ibn Fadlan on his journey.

The nights are becoming colder the farther we go. So far I have not been detected. My terrified friend did not want to help me. She said that I, just shy of thirteen, would die of exposure, or worse, be killed for my impertinence. But I begged her again and again to help me, imploring that I had to be with Fadlan, even though he would not know it. I told her that once far enough away from the City of Peace, I could reveal my presence to him, and it would be too late for him to send me back. He would simply have to let me come the rest of the way. As long as he believed I was a boy, he would let me come. He must not recognize me as the daughter of his servant, the girl-child who constantly followed him adoringly about his home. I hoped my disguise would suffice to deceive him.

I hear voices raised in terror, and suddenly my mount, with others, is tumbling down a huge hill-I will be thrown off if this continues. Finally the bottom is reached, just as the call is given "A boat-a boat!" I am very sore from all the tossing as the camel was driven down the bank. I hear the music and raucous calls from a nearby camp. My camel is relieved of its burdens, and I am dropped to the ground. As night falls, I decide to make my move. We will be here in this camp for several days. I will stow in Ibn Fadlan's tent tomorrow night. I must simply wait until he has retired.

The night and day pass. Finally, Fadlan and Milchisedek appear outside the big tent, as I peek over the sacks. In the distant firelight, I see Milchisedek disappear into his tent and Ibn Fadlan fling open the flap of his to go inside. It is time. I cannot endure another day hiding away, not being with him.

I quietly crawl over to the tent, and lift the flap just a tiny bit. Ahmed is bent over his lantern, just about to extinguish it for sleep. "Fadlan!" I hiss quietly. He turns quickly to me, assuming a defensive posture, but poised to strike. I duck instinctively.

Fadlan sees me, just an Arab boy. He comes to the flap, pushing it open, and scolding me into the tent. "What are you doing here, boy?" he demands, a scowl on his face.

I am suddenly speechless. I have no plan from here. "Uh, Sir, uh, I um, am here, uh, to be with you, Sir.

"What? What do you think you are doing? Where did you come from, boy?"

"From your house," I gulp. "I am Hassan's nephew. Do you not remember me?" I improvise.

"I certainly do not!" bellows Fadlan. Now I am frightened. Fadlan has never raised a hand to a servant, but now with the dark scowls on his face, I wonder… I begin to tremble.

"What nerve you have! Allah will be angry with you, you naughty child. You have no place here!" Fadlan goes on. Suddenly, I am unable to maintain my ruse, and the tears begin to fall, washing the disguising dirt off my face. The hard journey, his anger with me, it is all too much, and I cover my tearful eyes with my dirty fists.

Fadlan moves closer to me, pulling my hands away from my face. His expression changes from anger to curiosity, then his eyes widen in shocked recognition. "Almighty Allah, what have you done, Nural? This is disastrous! Your poor mother will be beside herself!" I stop sobbing to manage to pant, "Oh, Sir Ahmed, by now she knows I am safe with you! My friend was to give her my note three days after I disappeared."

"Hmpf!" snorts Ahmed, his face woven in concern. "And do you know what I am to be doing next? Do you know how dangerous this is? Silly child, what am I going to do with you now? At daybreak, I am leaving with twelve Northmen to fight the unnamed terror!"

With this, I fall first into wails of weeping, and then determined assertion. "Ahmed, I have come this far. You cannot leave me here. I must go with you! I will not stay with any caravan, I will run away and find you! You cannot lose me!" Ahmed's shoulders sag. He knows I am serious, and that I have already managed to come this far. He knows I will endanger myself to be with him. He knows he can protect me. There is no choice but to give in to me.

Thus begins our journey to the north. The sea dragons make us both ill, and the cold biting sea air chills us. But Ahmed has spirited me aboard the Viking ship, forcing me to bathe and eat, taking care of me, and not allowing the Northmen to make too much fun of me. He makes friends with them, especially Herger, who's a funny fellow, and pretty nice to me sometimes. Ahmed warns that when we get to the Northland, I must stay with the children. "But I'm almost grown up, Ahmed, I'm almost a woman! I can fight with you!"

"Nonsense, you will not be a woman for years, Child Nural. There is no having your way in this, young one! I will visit you with the children, do you understand?" I have no option but to submit to his will.

We arrive at the Northmen's castle, and I am taken with the children. The safety of the dungeon is loud and crowded with children from the village and surrounding farms. I cannot sleep our first night there without my hero. I sneak upstairs to see the warriors sleeping in a circle. I awaken Ahmed, whereupon he scolds and spanks me, and takes me back down to the dungeon, returning to his post. Soon there is a terrible din above, and I realize he had to put me here. There is shouting and horrible cries of pain. I am terrified that my child's love interest will be slaughtered in the chaos above.

Finally, it is quiet and he comes down to me, blood on his shirt, and mustard-colored stripes on his face. He has been injured, but not seriously. I begin to cry, relieved by the sight of him, and Ahmed, taken with my emotion, scoops me into his arms to comfort me. I am soothed and my trembling subsides. Soon Herger is down here summoning all the children big enough to work to help build defenses. I'm pressed into service finding and assembling buckets to fight fire. I do not see Ahmed all day, and find my exhausted self back in the dungeon, as the serpent of fire advances.

More fighting, worse this time, and it becomes smoky in the dungeon. We are all coughing a little and very uncomfortable. I do not see Ahmed tonight, and I cry myself to sleep.

Morning dawns, and I see why Ahmed did not come to the dungeon. Her name is Olga. I hate her! Ahmed rides off with the warriors without a word to me, but says goodbye to her. Now I really hate her. But at least he is alive. He looks different to me this morning. He wears chain mail, but it is an expression of self-assurance on his face which catches my attention. The warriors are looking up to him, and listening to his ideas. It is more like home, where he was known for his intelligence and admired for his ideas. Until the banishment, of course.

We wait. It is a long time, and the warriors have not returned. I am growing frightened. These North people do not express such emotions. I am not willing to tell others how I feel. Olga takes care of us children sometimes. I make it a point to be cold to her.

Finally, the warriors return, just a handful of them, but Ahmed is there. The king of the warriors is mortally wounded by the bite of a poisonous snake. A deathwatch has begun, and we children are taken away. Soon the horns of the Wendol are again heard, and we are rushed into the dungeon once more. Again, we hear the horrible sounds of battle, and we know it is vicious. Our lives are in great danger. The queen has handed Olga a package of sharp knives to slit our throats, if the Wendol gets close to us. I resolve to fight her, and save myself and the other children.

But the horns of retreat sound, and quiet comes. Once more, the dungeon is opened and we children pour out. The king is dead, and we are allowed to see him during the preparations for his funeral. This takes many days, as he lays in a tent being prepared for his journey to Valhalla.

In the last battle, the Wendol is driven away for good. Life in the Northmen's land is returning to normal. The women have made me a skirt and shirt to wear, and I cast off my boy disguise. It is now safe to walk about the fields at will. Ahmed takes me for many walks, and for rides on his beautiful horse. One day, we have dismounted to walk in a field, and I double over in pain. This is new, and it has been with me only a couple of days. I have said nothing, but now I am unable to conceal my discomfort. Ahmed rushes to me, helping me to sit on a boulder. "What is it, my Nural?" he asks in concern.

"I do not know, Ahmed! I'm swelling and my belly hurts terribly." Ahmed helps me up to get me back. As we walk a little trail of blood on the ground follows me. Ahmed's backward glance puts a look of recognition on his face. "Nural," he says gently, "do you know what is happening to you?"

"No!" I wail, "but I know I'm going to die! It must be Allah's punishment for me for following you."

Ahmed takes me firmly by the shoulders, a mild chuckle escaping his lips. "Do not say that, Nural. Allah is not punishing you. Sit down again, girl, we must talk." I comply, as Ahmed takes my hand and explains quietly and calmly what is taking place. "You are making a home for your babies to grow. You are making a nest each month, but you do not need it yet. Your mother never told you of this?"

"No. What must I do to make a baby, Ahmed?"

"I did not realize," says Ahmed slowly, "that your body was this mature, Nural. You are so diminutive; it did not occur to me that you could be of childbearing age. Come, we must get you back so you can get cleaned up. I shall have the women help you, and they will tell you the rest."

"No, Ahmed!" I protest. "You must tell me! I do not want to be told by strangers. You are all I know!"

Ahmed sighs, "So I am. We may be here for quite some time. I shall tell you. "You know that men are made differently from women," he begins. "That we have a member from which we discharge our urine. That member," he says, looking intently at me, "has another purpose. It is to spill our seed, from which babies are made. Women like you have a place where that seed must go, inside, from where you now bleed. It is done in a loving and pleasurable way, when men and women feel strongly for each other."

My eyes widen with each sentence. It would sound so awful coming from anyone else. But all I can think of is that I want Ahmed to spill that seed inside me. Now. And I tell him so. Ahmed seems a little discomfited, but explains, "Now is not the time, Nural. It is when the nest is built up again that babies are made. Now is a time for you to rest and be thoughtful unto yourself. In our faith, you are considered unclean at this time, and no man must lie with you. But soon, your time of fulfillment will come. And I shall be the one to bring it to you." With that, he takes me back to the women for care and confinement.

Several days pass. I am myself again, and Ahmed comes for me. "You shall be my wife, Nural," he says. I am overcome with joy, but simply and quietly, he places me on his horse, and takes me to an abandoned farm. He has brought cheese and bread, and mead. We sit on the sleeping pallet, which is soft and inviting. We eat slowly, and he gives me a few sips of the liquid. It burns going down, but I begin to relax, as he advances toward me.

Slowly, so slowly, he places kisses on me, lowering the neck of my shirt, gently unfastening the front a little at a time, blowing his warm breath on each newly exposed spot. The nipples of my tiny breasts rise up to meet his inquiring tongue, and I give a little moan as he lowers me to the pallet. His mouth and tongue explore my midline, his hands cupped on my breasts. Deftly he slips my skirt and little knickers down, and tenderly regards my nakedness before him. I shiver with complete delight as I see his warm gaze, and raise my arms around his neck in overwhelming love.

Again, he lowers himself to me, his hands exploring my girth, cupping my bottom, rising up my back, lifting me and causing me to arc involuntarily, my body begging for his further attentions. His hands move to my most private self, exploring my moist lips, causing me to cry out with passion as he kisses my neck and ears. Finally, he disrobes, and his manhood is visible and poised for possession. Once again, his hands explore me, now his fingers moist and probing slide to make me sing inside, and I see bright flashes behind my closed eyelids. I open them to see his eyes regard mine with power and possession as I feel him enter me and I explode with pain and desire. But Ahmed slowly and gently thrusts, his eyes on mine, his hands cradling my head as he rests on his elbows. Quietly, gently rocking, he watches me, slowly urging me into motion with him, as I begin to rise into crescendo, and torrents of sensation overtake me. Ahmed then releases his harness, rising and falling with my waves until, in a lightning moment, we are together overcome.

Ahmed cradles me in his arms, planting little kisses on my hands, neck and face. We fall into slumber, entwined in each other. Later awakening, we sup and savor each other again. "This is what it is to make a baby, my baby Nural," whispers Ahmed. "I love you, and I hope when we board the ship to return, there will be a little one of you inside." He smiles lovingly at me, as we prepare for the night.

This farmstead became our home for the remainder of our stay with the Northmen. It was made comfortable by our efforts, and with the help of the Northmen and women. We were welcomed, and our new friends did not happily anticipate our departure. We were at the wedding of Herger and Olga, and the Northmen insisted on giving us a wedding there, though we knew we would take vows before Allah in time. All the Northmen's ships had been burned by the Wendol, and before the new ship for our return was built, I was swollen with child. This did not dissuade Ahmed's attentions in any way. He was the tender lover to me, and father of his child.

Finally, the time for our departure arrived, and I was taken below deck for the journey. I heard Ahmed call his kindly farewell to his dear friend Herger, and I wept, knowing how Ahmed would miss him. Ahmed would also miss his beautiful white steed, which he had given as a token of his respect, to the youngest Northman warrior. As our ship began its journey, my beloved came below deck to accompany me in my confinement.

Thus ended our time with the Northmen, and we resumed life as husband and wife under the guidance of Allah.