We received your letter regarding the Lady Katharine and are pleased to hear that she is well. However, Princess Safiya has recently announced her pregnancy and the Sheik is making arrangements for the birth of his legitimate firstborn son to his wife. A son. –Inshallah.
The more Abdullah wrote, the more he realized that he was forever inching away as a true trusted advisor of Mohammed’s. Yet, he knew it was the right thing to do. He had tried to erase the witch from their lives, but had not succeeded.
Maybe he must rely on the witch herself, to become so angry at Mohammed’s supposed infidelity that she would be unable to forgive him.
The Qur’an was on his side. He was firm in his belief. There could be no misunderstanding. Non-believers and Infidels must be slayed. There could be no in-between. Mohammed was infatuated with the woman, and Abdullah would make it his goal to separate them. He had never seen such an obscene display of male obsession as Mohammed was with the woman.
Even Mohammed’s father, who had kept a well-stocked harem and utilized the women at great length, had always known his duty and had never strayed from it.
After all, women had their place and all knew it. Women’s lot was to bear children, preferably sons, be obedient, and keep a devoutly religious home.
Abdullah shook his head and set the quill pen down. How could he have prevented this?
No, he could not have prevented this. It had become an obsession almost from the time the witch was brought to the palace.
There was a time when she had rebuked the sheik’s advances and he had demoted her to a lowly bath servant. But Mohammed was a man used to getting what he wanted. She had played right into his arms. He had only wanted her more after that.
Once the white witch had succumbed to the sheik, both had started down a path of damnation that threatened to ruin them all.
He tried to reason with himself. He had tried to rectify the matter and change the course they were on. He had brought in the mercenary Jean Baptiste to take her away, but it had failed. He sighed. He had tried. Yes, he had tried. He closed his eyes and felt the tears of frustration. No! It was not over yet.
He would not let the bastard that she had birthed become the next sheik. It was impossible. He would not let it happen. He took up the pen once more. His hand shook as he continued writing the lies.
The wedding is being planned and is a great event as it joins two great families. The bloodlines will be ensured once the child is born to the Sheik.
Peace and blessings be upon you.
Your servant
He swallowed and felt a knot in his throat. His first instinct was to crumple the paper in his fist. But he took a breath, placed his quill pen on the desk, and looked over the note. His clean, fine penmanship was dark against the light-colored paper.
No. He must not waiver. He must be firm in his belief. He would send it out tomorrow.
He knew in his heart that this path he had started down would end badly. But he was willing to die for his belief rather than watch an infidel sit beside the sheik with her bastard son.
***
Katharine had packed up her meager belongings into a small trunk that the Abbess had kindly given her. She looked down at her son, who was sleeping sweetly on the small bed.
She had no notion of how far off course they had come nor how much farther they had to go to make it back home, but it was time. She knew she had left much chaos behind her, but it was not of her doing or choosing.
She closed her eyes and saw the hills and green grass along her family’s property. She missed her mother and her father and longed for them to meet their grandson.
She looked at her baby and felt herself start to cry when she thought of Mohammed. She missed him so much. She wanted to feel his arms around her and feel the heat and sand of Arabia. She wanted him to meet his son.
She moved the trunk to the door just as a knock sounded.
“Yes?” she asked.
Abigail moved into the room and stood next to the bed, looking down at the sleeping child.
“The stagecoach is here,” she told Kat.
Katharine took her hands in hers.
“How can I ever thank you?” she asked.
“Nonsense, my dear. You are safe, and your son is healthy. That is all that matters,” Abigail told her.