Late September 632 AD, Rajab 11 AH

"It's going to be fine," Sumayya caressed the little boy's head, attempting to calm him with a soothing voice as he shook vigorously in her arms. "It's going to be fine."

She began humming him a tranquil melody as he buried his tiny head in her chest. Her calming efforts yielded a positive effect as the boy ceased his shuddering.

But the shouting outside lingered.

Deep-throated bellows and uncouth words used in challenge, accompanied by the galloping of hooves, the nickering of horses. Sumayya and her family cowered within a mud and thatch house, biding their time until all the chaos blows over.

In truth, they were not actually her family. They were her masters. For seven years, Sumayya invested a plethora of emotion, effort and care into these individuals that took her in and gave her a place to call home.

For seven years, the woman called Layla had aided her piecemeal in relieving Sumayya of nearly all the traumas that plagued her. Layla taught her what it meant to be a lady, groomed her in the ways of etiquette and elegance. Under her wing, Sumayya flourished into a fine young woman, slender and notoriously beautiful throughout all the clans of the Banu Tamim.

"Three men have arranged meetings with Malik just this morning," Layla had once told her, combing her hair. "You are much sought after. One of them is even of a different tribe. You remind me of myself when I was your age."

But Sumayya refused all her suitors, preferring to remain under the hospitable wing of Layla and Malik. And their children, whom Sumayya had cherished as her own younger siblings. Layla and Malik, who had only ever been good to her, treating her the same way they treated their children, providing her with the same quality of food and garment and shelter and education. She could read and write now!

Now, Malik had his ear pressed against the door of the house, sword in hand. Layla held her two daughters in her arm, soothing them in her own way. She shot Sumayya a reassuring glance. The yelling outside was dwindling.

They did not know what was about to happen. It was all so confusing! The past few months had been a blur of rapid events passing by in an overwhelming rush. Too quickly for any of them to process what was happening exactly. Sumayya had lived seven blissful years with people that had only shown her utmost kindness and warmth. Seven years she had known only peace after a tumultuous life she had left behind.

But now, that was in jeopardy.

When Sumayya was bought by the chieftain Malik ibn Nuwayrah, the Banu Tamim tribe was almost entirely practitioners of idolatry. But then, one after the other, the tribes of the Najd region around Madinah were swallowed into the rising nation of Islam.

The mass conversion of Malik's clan had not troubled Sumayya. She retained her Jewish faith, though she did not consider herself overtly pious. And the clansmen tolerated her, even after their conversion to Islam. She had been wary of said conversion. She did not exactly have a pleasant past with this religion.

But her skepticism of the mass conversion was misplaced. On the contrary, it saw Malik's fortunes rise. He obtained a status of prestige – the alms tax collector from the clans of Tamim. The years had seen Malik's family and tribesmen prosper in their daily lives as well as matters of trade, especially when the star of Islam ascended to its greatest extent after the fall of Makkah. Sumayya could not wish for more.

Until news of the Muhammad's death arrived.

It was then that Sumayya's life had been thrown into upheaval. One moment, she dwelled in her warm abode, surrounded by loved ones she would gladly sacrifice herself for, and the next...well, the next, she was cowering in the corner of a random house in a strange town.

Many tribes saw the absence of Muhammad as an opportunity to break away from a status of subjection to a city they had never answered to in their ancient history. Others, inspired by the religion's meteoric rise, claimed divine revelation themselves.

It started off with a Tamim tribeswoman. Sajjah, who had been a witch prior to her claim of prophethood, had dragged them all into this. So many Banu Tamim clans were forced into her support through the bond of kin.

And Malik was unjustly accused of apostasy! Of striking a deal with Sajjah. But he would never! Would he? How would he? He was a benevolent man who loved peace, besides, and cared for his own with admirable dexterity. There was not a man or woman alive that did not harbor love in their hearts for Malik ibn Nuwayrah.

He had even returned the alms tax money to the people after Muhammad died! That was how generous and caring he was.

Then again, that is the primary reason the Muslims are here...

But it wasn't enough to warrant these vile rumors that Malik was abetting Sajjah! Besides, the woman's cause was now in ruin. After Tulayha the Asadi's defeat at Buzakha, she had forsook her claim of prophethood in favor of a marriage alliance with another claimant to revelation – Maslamah of al-Yamamah.

So, what did they want now!? The alms tax money? Malik would surely pay back. With interest if need be! He had never been a greedy man. He had never been a bad man!

What did they –

"God is great! God is great!"

Sumayya started at the melodic voice that disrupted the silence, a gruff yet sweet tune. The call to prayer? But there had been hostilities only a moment before.

"God is great! God is great!"

"What's going on?" she asked Layla. The older woman did not even meet her eyes. "Malik, sire?"

He did not answer either. The Muslim call to prayer continued to dominate the air around them. Sumayya's eyes flitted all around. There was no hint of raucous outside.

The silence returned in a heartbeat when the adhan ceased. The air grew still once more, and the little boy squirmed in Sumayya's grasp.

For a moment, Sumayya genuinely believed the Muslim army had retreated. That they would leave them alone.

But then the door flew into the house with a crash.

___________________

"Let go!" Sumayya screamed, kicking wildly and wailing as the large man handled her, dragging her to a large black tent. "Let go!"

She continued squirming in his arms, but to no avail. She gave ground all the same. He shoved her past the tent flap, and she fell inside, humiliated, sobbing, whimpering.

"Well done, Dhirrar," the wretched general that had taken everything from her said in between huffs of smoke on his hookah pipe. "Was she the last of them?"

The large man called Dhirrar grunted. Satisfied with the answer, the general waved him away in dismissal.

The general was a large man as well, though considerably shorter than Dhirrar. But he was far more terrifying than Dhirrar. There was something to his piercing gaze. Something indescribable. As though he were studying you to your very core, searching within your soul for the slightest hint of corruption. Utterly sure he would find something buried deep within, something dark and damnable. Something to match his despicable, dark aura of...of...death. Darkness.

Sumayya felt naked under his gaze. She tugged at her gown.

"Khalid," a man said from the corner of the tent. "What have you done, Khalid? Do you know what you have just done?"

"I've fulfilled my task," Khalid replied. "The one Abu Bakr set me out to perform."

"The Khalifa did not ask this of us!" the other man complained. "This is a crime. 'He who kills a soul, it is as if he has killed all of humanity.' The honest word of God, that was."

"You are forgetting that the Prophet of Allah was heard to have said 'He who switches his religion, kill him.'"

What are they talking about? This conversation about murder was making Sumayya's stomach churn. Her eyes wandered about the tent until they rested on a huddled Layla, who was whimpering in a far corner. She let out a yelp that interrupted the arguing men. They glanced at her in unison before returning to their bickering.

"And how is it that Malik ibn Nuwayrah switched his religion?" demanded the other man. "This is disgusting. This is heinous!"

"He refused to pay the alms tax. His family did not answer the call to prayr, Dhirrar said. He spoke lightly of the Khalifa's orders when confronted. You tell me."

"Do you think the Khalifa will stand for this? Do you think any of us will stand for this?"

"Why would you not?"

Khalid shifted his piercing gaze upon him. Those two deep, omnipotent black pools, dark as a raven's eyes, unmoving, unwavering. Even Sumayya shuddered. The other man let out a gulp and took a step backward.

"What of...the woman?" he asked, more hesitant this time.

"I have taken her as wife," Khalid announced nonchalantly, relieving the man of his gaze.

What?

"What!?" he barked. "Have you lost your mind? You spit on everything sacred."

"Is she a mother of yours I don't know of, Abu Qutada? Because I will consummate this marriage tonight, even so."

"You know well of what I speak. It is an unspeakable crime to wed a divorcee or a widow before three months. What if she grows heavy with child?"

"Then she bears my fruit."

"And how would you know it is your fruit and not another's?"

"Because my seed is stronger."

"It is a sin. A sin! You are an adulterer. You will be stoned, ibn al-Waleed. Stoned!"

A lump formed in Sumayya's chest then, and her breathing grew heavy. She let out a sharp shriek and began shaking with grief.

"No!" she cried out, beating a fist against her chest in lamentation. "You can't do this!"

"Quiet, woman," Khalid ibn al-Waleed ordered.

Sumayya continued wailing all the same. Sire Malik was dead! Lady Layla would be forced to...to...wed this monster! What of the children? Slaves?

It was then that the tent ruffled, heralding a new visitor. It was a dour-eyed boy bearing a roasted piece of meat in both hands. Khalid smacked his lips, unclasped his cloak from his shoulders and laid it out before him. The slave boy gently placed the roasted meat on the cloak before Khalid, who cracked his knuckles.

"In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Most Merciful," Khalid announced.

"I refuse to be a part of this!" the man called Abu Qutada wagged a finger at the ambivalent Khalid. "I am returning to Madinah! I will inform the Khalifa of what I have seen here."

With that, he stormed out of the tent. With trepidation, Sumayya realized she was now alone with this beast.

"Why?" she whimpered. "Why?"

Khalid raised an eyebrow before tearing a chunk off his meal.

"He was good," she wailed. "He was good."

"He was an apostate," Khalid smirked then, as he paused between chews. He gestured at the roasted meat. "Besides. You can still say farewell to him. Right now."

And Sumayya screamed.