The Black Clover 12
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE BLACK CLOVER" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
THE BLACK CLOVER
by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on 3rd of April, 1986
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by an Australian friend
CHAPTER 12
GHAYN
Dressed in the uniform of the Guards, we left Istanbul and travelled on two fast horses until we reached Haql garrison. Here, we showed one of the Breves the Sultan gave to us, left our horses and weapons in their custody and asked them to obtain beggars' rags for us. Thereafter, accompanied by two mounted soldiers we were left not far from the gates of Duba, from where we started our wandering on foot. We had decided to live as beggars from the very beginning, so we started asking for alms.
The first days were exceptionally hard: to sleep on the bare ground, in the open, to eat bad food and not much of it, sometimes to be chased away and ill treated was not exactly pleasant! But never Amin complained - on the contrary he showed his happiest smile. Slowly, on foot we advanced through Mussa's territory. Within a few days our appearance had changed: we were dirty, we had lost weight, and our neglected beards and hair made of us two genuine faqir.
Along our way we also noticed how many of Mussa's soldiers there were in each city, town and village, what defences, the location of the weak points and mentally we took notes. Amin, during our slow roaming, also carefully observed the people.
One day he said to me: "Have you noticed that the most generous are also the poorest? The rich people, when we are lucky to get anything at all, give us only the alms prescribed by the Al Qur'an, and often with a complete lack of grace!"
"But there are some exceptions."
"Very few. Why is it that rich people, who could give much more, cling so firmly to their wealth?"
"Probably it is because they are so greedy with their money that they are so rich, do you not think?"
"It could be. But my father was generous and I too will be, especially with beggars."
"Generosity is a gift from Allah and you received many gifts from the Powerful."
"You, for instance," answered Amin with a smile.
He often said such exquisite words about me, and each time it was like a balm making my life pleasurable and precious.
Slowly we approached the territory that had belonged to Amin's father. Here also we wandered asking for alms, as we had done for the last three months. A miserable way of life... Eventually, Amin decided it was time to begin finding to what extent his people had remained faithful. So, one day, in a small village half way into the mountains, pretending to be foreigners, Amin said to a man that gave us something to eat:
"May Allah bless you. And bless this village."
"Yes, we really need it," he answered sadly.
"Why? This seems to be a happy place..."
"It was. It is no more, not since Mussa ibn Saleh came to rule us."
"But... is not Hassem your Shaikh?"
"Yes, as a puppet in his grandfather's hands. If Hassam was alive, or at least his son Amin..."
"What happened to them?"
"Hassam was murdered by Mussa, and Amin... nobody knows. Some say he too was killed, others say he escaped and one day will come back... Only Allah knows the truth."
"But if he was alive, what could he alone do?"
"He would not be alone! Many would follow him. But many years have gone by, and if he does not soon show himself..."
"But who can say this Amin will be better than Hassem?"
"He could not be worse! Hassem takes everything from us. Amin could surely not take more!"
"But... even if Amin returned, after so many years, how could he make himself recognized?"
"He would know how, I am certain. But these are just hopes, fantasies."
"What if an impostor came, perhaps even someone sent by Mussa to discover who is really faithful to him?"
"Mussa knows very well that here very few people are loyal to him. He does not need to send spies. But he does not fear, because he has many soldiers and us fallahin do not have any weapons. This is just useless talk, but it passes the time, and it is something of ours that Mussa does not want," he said with a wry grin.
"Do many in your village feel the same as you?"
"Not just in this village..."
"But are you organized in some way?"
"Why do you ask so many questions, stranger?"
"Because I... I met Amin," I answered immediately.
The man knitted his brow and looked at me carefully: "You, beggar, you have met Amin? Where?"
"Yes, and he sent us to explore. He is preparing for his return."
"I pray to Allah that you are telling the truth! But... what evidence do you have to show that Amin is still alive and that he is really coming back?"
"For the moment I have no proof to show you. We are here on his behalf exploring for answers. He wants to be sure that his people have not forgotten him, and that they will support him."
"His people would like to be sure they are not forgotten, stranger."
"He needs proof of your loyalty, before moving. Then he well show himself to you and lead you in battle."
"He wants proof, we want proof..." the man mumbled, shaking his head.
Then Amin said: "You have to organize, organize all the people who want Amin as their rightful Shaikh."
"Easily said! But the people will not move without something concrete. We are all prepared to risk our lives, but only for something concrete, not just for a faint hope."
"Can you assemble all the men you are sure will be faithful to Amin?"
"Yes. But what for?"
"I will show you the proof that Amin did not forget you, through all these long years."
"Strange beggars, you two... All right, I will gather the men of the village. But I warn you, if the proof is not more than convincing, nobody will ever find any trace of you two. It is not good to play with the hopes of honest people."
"Only trustworthy men: nobody who could possibly betray us. If Mussa hears that Amin is coming, the Prince's life would be in serious danger, do you understand?"
"Do not worry. I know my people very well. But now you must come with me, if you want me to gather the village men."
"Where are you taking us?"
"I will lock you in a safe place."
"And who is to say that you will not call Mussa's men? What security can you give us?"
"I will lock my firstborn son, Abdul, in the room with you. And I will give you a dagger. If Mussa's men come, you will slit his throat. Is that sufficient guarantee of my intentions?"
"It is more than sufficient. We are in your hands."
The man led us to his home. He locked us in a windowless room with his son Abdul, a sixteen year old boy, gave me the dagger, then bolted the door from the outside. I tried to talk to Abdul, but he looked at us in silence and did not answer to our questions. After night had fallen, the villager returned to the house, unlocked the door and entered the room:
"The men are waiting for you. Come."
We went out into the dark of the night and went uphill following a small path, keeping Abdul between us. The man knew the way very well and, using only the light of the moon, led us to a small plateau partly hidden between the rocks. There several men wrapped in their cloaks, dark and still shadows in the half darkness, were waiting in silence.
"Here are the two beggars," our companion said simply.
One of them said: "What do you have to tell us? Speak!"
Amin replied: "Light a fire. I want us to be able to look each other's faces while speaking."
The men murmured among themselves, then some shadowy figures moved about, and after a short while a fire burned in front of us.
Amin said: "Draw nearer and show your faces: then I will speak."
For a while no-one moved. Then one man moved closer, then another and another; they uncovered their faces and scrutinized us carefully. When everybody was close, Amin started to talk:
"You want proof that Amin did not forget you, that he wants to return and lead you to take back what is his own. But if he comes, what proof would you ask of him? How could he show you he is not an impostor?"
"If we ask for proof, any skilled impostor could forge it. It is up to him to give us convincing proof."
"All right. He will give you the convincing proof. But to move, a dozen men like you, while worthy, are simply not enough. Mussa's men are many and well armed, but above all are skilled in using their weapons. If there is a fight, many of you will die."
"Other villages will rise up. The important thing is that Amin will be our guide. And we too, shepherds, breeders and farmers can use sticks, scythes and daggers. And we are far more numerous than Mussa's men. Many of us will die, but be sure that many of them will die too."
"A professional soldier would soon get the better of all of you. With a good weapon, I alone would suffice to take care of you all."
"You? Who do you think you are, boy?"
"Give me a staff, and then try to take it from me, if you can. I will show you what I am able to do."
"Give him a stick and let us see. But beware, young man, you risk a good trashing!"
One of the men intervened: "This is not the problem, stop it! The problem now is just to find out whether or not it is trues that Amin wants to return. And if he is the true Amin and not an impostor. What do you have to say, you two, on this point?"
Then Amin said: "When Amin was born, there was an omen. He had on his body a peculiar mark..."
An elder man said: "Yes, the black clover, three moles on his groin. But this, everyone knows, at least those old enough to remember the time of Amin's birth..."
"You think they could be forged?"
"Not enough to withstand a close inspection," the old man said.
"So, if a man arrived and showed you the black clover, would you accept him as Amin?"
Then another man stood up and said: "Another man with three such moles could exist. But I have a way to discover if he is the real Amin."
"What way is that?"
"Before I say, I want to see with my own eyes this man with the black clover."
Amin looked at me and I imperceptibly nodded.
"I am Amin," he said simply and started to untie the worn breeches that barely covered him.
As soon as he had uncovered his groin, exposing it to the light of the fire, everyone approached to look. They murmured in low voices, pointing to the mark, spoke in whispers, looked again. At last Amin covered himself again and said:
"What more do you want to know, to believe I am who I say I am?"
The man that spoke before, approached Amin, looked straight in his eyes and asked pointblank:
"The real Amin, when a child in the harem, had a preferred pastime. Tell me what was it."
I looked at him asking myself what that man was talking about: Amin never told me of such a thing. But my lord broke into a wide smile:
"That is easy. My mother had a slave whose name was Lahal. She let me play with her long hair and I loved to plait her braids. This was my preferred pastime."
The man prostrated in front of Amin and said: "My Lord! Lahal fled that night. I found her and now she is my wife. How many times she told me about you!"
Then he stood up and turned towards the other men: "There is no possible doubt that this is our lord Amin. Lahal can confirm it."
Then everybody prostrated in front of Amin who said: "Stand up: you are my first companions. From here my conquest will start. If I regain my throne, I cannot promise you wealth or special honors, but one thing I swear to you: I will be a fair sovereign."
We spoke with the men for a long while and started to organize. Each man was to go to other villages wherever they had relatives or friends to organize other groups of men loyal to Amin. Amin promised that, when there were enough men ready to follow him, he would give them the best weapons. We were still talking when Lahal's man came back with his wife. As soon as she saw Amin, she prostrated in front of him crying with emotion. Amin lifted her and caressed her hand. They spoke, while the men went back to the village. The mullah, who was one of them, offered us hospitality, but Amin refused:
"Until the day I sit on my throne, I will sleep on the bare ground and in the open. But I will be back amongst you, this is my promise. For the moment, accept just my thanks, my friends."
We spent the night in the mountains, and the following day we resumed our journey.
FAA
One after the other, we visited many villages and in most we were welcomed and got a ready answer. But one day we received terrible news: somebody had betrayed us and one of the villages had been put to steel and fire by Mussa's men. And now they were searching for Amin and I! The village survivors asked if they could join us, so we constituted the first band: we were just a tenth, badly armed, but slowly others joined us as, crossing the mountains, we were heading towards the Turk garrison. After little more than a month we reached our destination. Leaving the men in the mountains, we two came to the gate asking to be received by the commander.
At first we were ill treated, but when Amin showed the Sultan's Breve, the soldiers attitude radically changed and we were taken into the garrison immediately. Shortly the commander received us and when Amin showed the mark he asked us to forgive him. He said that he had received orders to give us all the weapons we wanted and declared himself at our service.
Amin sent a letter to the Sultan asking him, apart from more arms and ammunition, to be allowed to have some skilled veterans to organize our men and to teach them how to use the weapons. Meanwhile the commander had authorized our men to come down from the mountains and to camp around the fort. The courier arrived back with the authorization from the Sultan, and the news that more weapons and ammunition were on the way. By the time carbines, gun powder and bullets, scimitars and bows arrived, our men were almost fair soldiers.
We obtained some horses and donkeys, and left in a caravan. We had as our destination one of the villages loyal to us that, due to its position, was the easiest to defend and that we decided to transform in our general quarters.
To reach it we had to make a wide detour to avoid Mussa's territory. As soon as we arrived, we started to fortify the village. Other men trickled in from the nearby villages carrying food and rough but useful weapons, and tools and animals. To them too we distributed the weapons brought by the fort.
When we felt strong enough, we commenced raids towards the plain, attacking Mussa's garrisons. In the beginning we had luck, because they were not prepared for attacks from an organized band. But soon we started to find a more resistance. But our forces were growing day by day and we continually obtained more weapons from the Turkish fort. Little by little, seeing their behaviour in battle, we started to give responsibilities to some of our men so our band started to take on the aspect of an army. A small one but very well organized, more and more numerous, disciplined and well armed. The real problem was the men's training, it was proceeding too slowly. To forge fallahin into soldiers was not something that could be achieved in a few weeks. To avoid useless massacres, Amin had sent orders to villages not to move, not to declare their loyalty until we arrived with our soldiers. It was a very intense period, that forced us into frequent moves so that very seldom we had quiet moments for ourselves. On rare occasions we were alone long enough to abandon ourselves in each other's arms.
Amin was growing rapidly, and was becoming more and more self confident and determined, but when we were alone and intimate he was always my sweet lover, passionate and tender. The Ramadan of the year 1131 of the Ajirah was approaching, when we heard rumors of a great movement of Mussa's army toward our territory. We immediately organized our defences to prevent our enemy from entering too deeply into territory under our control. Studying the situation, and listening to the inhabitants of the place, we thought that the best thing to do was to hide in the slopes of the mountains surrounding the valley, allow the enemy to advance into the valley then attack from the sides closing off their retreat. We were not yet more than them, but we had the advantage of knowing well the terrain, and we had many carbines.
Amin commanded the left slope, and I the right. I saw our enemy penetrate into the valley. It seemed they had smelled our ambush. They proceeded very slowly, exploring the sides, but not far enough up the sides to see us. I awaited Amin's signal ordering the attack. At last I saw it. I unsheathed my scimitar, the men loaded the carbines and at my signal we ran down the side of the valley, shouting all together as loud as we could. Soon we surrounded them and a furious scuffle started. For a while the result of the battle seemed uncertain, but then slowly turned in our favour.
Suddenly I realized that the enemy was concentrating on the point where Amin was. So, with my mounted men, I went round the outside of the scuffle to give him support. We were arriving at the critical point when I saw an enemy squad coming against us. I turned my horse and called my men. We were pushing them back when my horse, running at full gallop, stumbled on an obstacle I did not see and I flew out of the saddle and slammed against a small tree. I knocked my head and lost consciousness.
When I came around, I was tightly tied and they were transporting me on a horse: I had fallen into enemy hands like a total beginner! Pretending to be still unconscious I listened to their conversation and understood they were taking me to Mussa's Palace as a prisoner. I thought that my destiny was written, but if my sacrifice saved Amin, I did not care if I died. Allah would welcome me in his Paradise, and that was enough for me.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 13
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