Ummah Wahida 1911 on

[maddox]

Eagerly awaiting more of this.

[Guinness]

The months spent in Afghanistan were boring for Kocak. Houshmand seemed to spend almost all his time sitting on cushions, sipping tea, and talking with the locals. He also gave a few speeches and answered numerous questions. For the Afghans, Houshmand was something of a celebrity, and in villages all around Afghanistan, copies of the book were being read aloud by the Mullahs.

At any rate, when the time came to move, more than 300 men mustered from within and around Kandahar. There could have been many more, but Houshmand, after consulting with the local chieftains, decided to take with him only the most suitable. More could follow later.

The 300 or so set out one cold crisp morning to the east, lead by a number of guides who knew the trading paths across Persia well. To make themselves less conspicuous, Houshmand had the men form groups of about 12, and they did their best to dress and look like caravan traders. Still, Muhommed, his guide assured him that there was seldom any trouble from the Persians or the Ottomans other than the occasional shakedown. Houshmand's men made sure to bring adequate supplies of gold and silver for those events.

The last detail was the most important: where exactly where they all going? Emporer Furrukhsiyar made clear that Houshmand's welcome in the Mughal Empire had worn out, and many of the Turks and Arabians in Houshmand band were quite happy with the prospect of returning West, but a final distinct destination was needed.

The night before Ali, one of Houshmand's youngest men from Mecca, who had been a 16 year old infantryman in the Balkans spoke up. "My friends and comrades, my father is a man of some influence who is well respected in Baghdad. Let us go there first." Houshmand smiled an nodded. This was as good a destination as any.

Houshmand's group, including Ali and Mohammed, as well as Kocak was the first to leave very early the next morning. They pulled extra horses carrying provisions, including leather sacks full of water, sacks of rice, and salt cured meats. Even a small retinue of goats and sheep came along for their milk, and if necessary, their meet. It would be a long journey.

[Guinness]

The trip across the Persian frontier several days later was uneventful, and marked only by a remark: "I think maybe we're in Persia now," Mohammed mentioned off-hand to Houshmand.

By now they had settled into a routine. At night the horses were secured, and watches assigned, two men each. A small fire was set for cooking. When they passed through villages they were often able to buy or trade for fresh produce, and in general tried hard to conserve their food. They men were usually hungry, but not miserable. No good watersource was passed without filling as many containers as possible.

Ali regaled the travelers with stories of his home city of Baghdad, and it's vibrancy in his childhood. He described his neighborhood, told stories of his friends, and of his family, especially his father. Ali was the oldest son. He was clearly excited to be going home.

During the day the dozen or so men divided up into three smaller groups, and travelled as much as two kilometers apart: better in case there should be an ambush. The silk road was rife with smugglers and highwaymen.

A month passed of the droll routine of traveling. They passed to the north of Tehran, near the sea. They saw many of His wonderous things of nature: birds of prey on the hunt. A long-legged buzzard dining on a carcass. They were shadowed by a pair of jackals for several days, and Houshmand left scraps of meat out for them, until one day one disappeared. He decided to go looking, and heard a strange sound, before coming close enough to see that the other one was whelping puppies. Taking this as a favorable sign, he ordered more meat left for the jackals before they moved on.

The night before they expected to cross the Ottoman frontier, Mohammed spoke to Houshmand:

"I must warn you that last year when I made this trip, things on the other side of the border had gotten very bad. Order has broken down, and highwaymen dominate the roads beyond. We must take great care."

Houshmand nodded. "We will be alert."

The border crossing itself again passed uneventfully, but after two more days, they came upon a pair of bloated dead mules and other indications of a struggle, including blood on the ground and drag marks. Houshmand, who had been walking beside his horse followed the marks, and found, in a dried streambed not far away, concealed from the road, five dead men piled on a heap.

"They don't look like they've been dead more than a day," Kocak noted, while covering his face with a cloth.

"We should bury them." Houshmand looked up at Kocak, who only nodded.

They spent the rest of the day caring for these dead men they did not know, and doing their best to give them an appropriate burial, digging graves, laying them on their right side facing the direction of Mecca. Then that night, Houshmand ordered a large fire to be prepared.

"Highwaymen. Scum." Mohammed spat on the ground. "I don't think there were more than four of them."

Houshmand spoke: "I believe it is our duty to bring justice to those that did this. I'm sure they haven't gone far. This is why I ordered the fire to built so large, to make sure they can find us. Tomorrow, we will split into three groups again, and go in different directions, the better to invite their ambush. They will think we are simple trading people, but they'll be in for a surprise!"

Houshmand passed the evening stripping and cleaning the old single-shot French carbine he had brought with him from Kandahar, and then sharpening the Ottoman Army bayonnet he'd had since the war. Then he helped Kocak clean the Swiss revolver he'd purchased in Karachi. The other men did similar, preparing for battle.

In the morning, the men split up as planned. Not far up the road was a fork. Mohammed knew of a couple of likely ambush locations on either fork. Houshmand lead one group down one way, Kocak another the other way, and a third group stayed behind and made a show of not going anywhere. If any of the three were attacked, the noise would bring the others soon at full gallop.

The sun was high in the sky and the land hand long since turned from rolling hills and scrubland to something bleaker, when a man on horseback seemed to appear out of nowhere ahead of them. Houshmand looked over his shoulder. Two more were behind him. He spoke in a low voice:

"I think the time has come, travel as if you don't notice, let them get closer." He reached up to his chest and fingered the handle on the bayonet.

The horse-mounted figure ahead of them stopped, then dismounted. The men behind drew up behind them. Houshmand gave more orders:

"When I give the order, we shall turn on them, but not before. Let us make sure that these are the scoundrels we are looking for."

Houshmand called out to the man standing on the road ahead of them. "Hey you! Are you a highwayman?"

The man just smiled, knelt down, and drew an Ottoman Army rifle to his shoulder. "All you need to know is you will be giving us what you have!" he shouted. Two more dismounted figures appeared on either side of the road.

"Now!" The order was almost inaudible, but in one swift motion, Houshmand and his men pulled out their own weapons, selected a target, and fired. Houshmand aimed the carbine at the man on the road, and with one shot, felled him with a round to the chest.

What followed did not take long. Ali fell almost immediately, shot through the neck. Houshmand, still on horse, wheeled expertly and charged toward on of the men on the side of the road. The many shot at him twice, missing, before having to reload. By the time he'd gotten the new clip of cartridges in his rifle, Houshmand was upon him. He swung the but of the carbine effortlessly, striking his enemy on the head and felling him. He then wheeled the horse and dismounted, withdrew the bayonnet, and slit the man's throat. Then he raised his enemy's rifle, knelt, and raised it, pointing it accross the road. His comerades were on the ground now, taking cover behind two of their dead horses, and the enemy raggedly kept shooting.

Amateurs Houshmand though. For the moment the remaining three enemy took no notice of him, so he got back on his horse and spurred it on, toward the two men who had been following them. For a moment the firing stopped, as all who still lived simply looked at the charging Houshmand. The enemy got their wits about them again though, and only a few steps on, Houshmand's horse was shot from under him.

Houshmand's men were not as well armed as the enemy, and with Houshmand down, the enemy crouched down and moved in on three sides hoping to finish it. Mohammed shot and wounded one, but with that shot, they were out of ammunition. Mohammed said a little prayer. The enemy stood up tall and took aim.

A shot rang out, and another.

Mohammed looked down. He was still there. He looked up. The enemy had fallen. Off the road, they saw Houshmand stand up from behind his horse and sling the rifle.

"Allahu Ackbar!" Mohammed called out. The other of Houshmand's men, Nasim simply exhaled. They were lucky to be alive.

Houshmand limped toward them, and looked down. "Ali! No." He closed his eyes for a moment and said a quite prayer, before looking up. "His sacrifice will be celebrated. We have done His will here today, I think."

[Guinness]

It took a while before Houshmand's men appeared at a slow canter.

"What took you so long?!", Mohammed looked incredulously at Kocak.

"When the shooting stopped, well, there were only two possibilities. Either you'd won, or you'd lost. Either way, no reason to hurry." Kocak smiled for a moment. "Is that Ali?"

Houshmand was wrapping the body. "Yes." Then to Mohommed: "How much further to Baghdad?"

"Two more nights if we move well."

"I think, if we can, we should return Ali to his father." Mohammed helped Houshmand hoist Ali's body up on a horse.

"And these men?" Kocak pointed at the highwaymen.

"Leave them to the buzzards." Houshmand replied.

That night, around a small fire, the men shared stories of Ali. He had been a quiet, serious and respectful young man, and had missed home terribly. Houshmand and Kocak sat together and talked late into the night. They had already lost so many like Ali, in the war. "It doesn't get easy though, does it?" Houshmand asked no one in particular.

It took a few day to navigate Baghdad and find what they thought was the right house. Houshmand knocked on the door in the twilight of evening, and eventually a late-middle aged man answered.

"You are Karam, who's oldest son is Ali?" Houshmand asked.

Karam answered: "Yes. Who are you."

"I'm a friend of your sons. I'm afraid I have bad news. Two days ago, Ali was killed in battle against highwaymen."

Karam looked startled for a moment. "Can you be sure it's my son Ali? Did you bury the body?"

"No we have him here." Houshmand led Karam to the horse over which Ali's body was slung, and several of the men helped put him on the ground. Houshmand then carefully unrapped Ali's head so his father could see his face.

Karam looked for a long moment, then closed his eyes. "Yes, that's my Ali. Please bring him in our house. You are all, of course welcome."

4 of Houshmand's men remained outside to mind the horses and keep watch, while Ali was brought inside, his body laid gently on the floor of the house's entryway. Once inside, it was clear that Karam and his family lived well, but not in an immodest way. Karam disappeared deeper in the house for a minute, and a scream and wheeping could be heard. Karam returned. And lead Houshmand and his men to a sitting room. "Please have a seat, we'll make you some tea. We were just about to take the evening meal. I have sent for an Imam and a funeral preparer, but while we wait, please tell me how my son died." There were tears in Karam's eyes, but he was doing an admirable job retaining his composure, Houshmand thought.

Houshmand, with interjections from Mohammed, told the story of the journey from Afghanistan, the highwaymen, the murdered traders, the battle. Karam listened quietly, then spoke. "I have so many more questions. We've heard little of Ali since he went to war, and nothing since he posted a letter to us from Jiddah telling us he was going to Karachi.

The men dined, the Imam arrived as did the funeral preparer. Houshmand and his men carried Ali to the central courtyard where a table had been set up, then stood respectfully as Kamal, Ali's mother, and his sisters cleansed and rewrapped Ali's body. The Imam told Kamal that the funeral prayers and burial could be in the morning. Many of Kamal's friends and extended family, having heard the news began to appear, but he pulled away and took Houshmand by the elbow.

"We will have no time to talk further today, but I have many questions. Please accept my hospitality for you and your men, and stay here as long as possible. Thank you for returning my son to me."

[The Rock Doctor]

Says Mrs. Rock:  "Who is this Guinness fellow?  He can write!"

"Indeed", says Mr. Rock.

[Guinness]

I'm glad she likes it.

My main goal is usually just to avoid any Lucasian dialog, if you know what I mean.

[Guinness]

Meanwhile, in Karachi...

"Have you seen this?" A young, well dressed man wearing a green sash tied around his arm walked into the butcher's stall in the market. The butcher wiped his hands off on his apron and reached across the work table to accept the sheet of paper, and read it:

Take Note!

The organization known as "The Greens" is hereby outlawed within the empire. Those found to be conspiring to disrupt the public order and those found wearing green armbands will be subject to the strictest of punishments.

In the name of his Majesty, Emperor Furrukhsiyar

The Butcher put the sheet down on the table and drove a knife's point down into it's center.

"Pass the word. Everyone wears green on their right arm at all times. It's time for a show of strength."

[Guinness]

The Present Day (October 1919, or Muharram 1338 on the Islamic Calendar)

Mas'ud Al-Qarraghul looked up from the papers he was reviewing. The Assistant to the Vâli (governor) of Baghadad for Security was wearing his normal weary expression. "Yet another missive from Istanbul!" He threw the paper down on the stack.

"Again Istanbul doesn't seem to understand what's going on here. 'Continue to prosecute criminal enterprises as local resources allow.' If only! We don't even need to worry about their criminal enterprises. Those wearing green armbands are already taking care of that for us!"

Rahim nodded in agreement. He had been in charge of the detail following the ring-leader, an Afghan and also a veteran of the 1912 war named Houshmand. "I've got more bad news for you, I'm afraid."

Mas'ud looked pained. "Yes?"

"The men we've had following Houshmand? They themselves are being followed now. Sometimes by men with green armbands openly carrying arms. I have them maintaining surveillance as best they can. We simply don't have enough men. As smart as Kocak and Houshmand's bodyguards seem to be, it was only a matter of time."

Mas'ud threw his hands up in an exaggerated gesture, sat down, and sighed.

"Since the Army left for Arabia or wherever they were going, and since the Greens made such a show in the streets during Dhu'l Hijja*, the streets are as quiet as ever. Have there even been any decapitated bodies found lately?"

"No, it seems that Houshmand's men have run out of murderers to execute. Maybe we should invite him to tea?" Rahim smiled.

Mas'ud did not. "They're a better class of organized criminal to be sure. The Jewish shopkeepers seem content to pay them their protection money instead of the previous rabble. Still, he also preaches against our government. It's positively treason, even if Istanbul chooses to take no notice. We may need to take our own action soon."

*The twelfth month of the Islamic calendar; the month of the Hajj.

[Guinness]

A few days later...

It had become a normal sight in the streets of Baghdad: Houshmand was striding confidently with a number of his closest associates, many armed, including Kocak. All wore green armbands over their flowing dishdashas. They were followed at a respectful by civilian-dressed state security men, who themselves were followed at a less than respectful dress by more of Houshmand's men wearing dishdashas and green armbands, and carrying firearms.

When they arrived at Kamal's house a small group of green-band wearing men were waiting outside the main gate. Some of these were the usual security detail Houshmand had been providing Kamal and his family, even since Houshmand and decamped for his own quarters. At the end of the street were still more openly armed men in dishdashas, lacking armbands. And making conversation with Houshmand's men was a young man unknown to Houshmand.

When the man saw Houshmand's group approaching, he held up his hand in greeting. "Aasalaamu Aleikum" the man greeted Houshmand. "I am Turki bin Abd al-Aziz. My father is Abd al-Aziz ibn Abd al-Rahaman al-Saud. He sends me here with business for you. I would be grateful if you could spare a moment of time to speak."

Houshmand nodded toward Kocak. Kocak asked his men who had been at the gate "Has this man been searched? And what of those fellows?" He nodded toward the men at the end of the street.

Turki responded for them. "Those men are mine. I've asked them to remain at the end of the street unless called. I give you my word I am not armed nor do I mean any of you any harm."

Houshmand waved his hand. He did not trust this young man, but he clearly was someone of some importance, though he had no idea who he was. It seemed impolite to treat him with such disdain as to search him.

The guards opened the gates and admitted all to the small outer courtyard. Houshmand excused himself for a moment. "This is not my house, let me alert our host that we are here." He reappeared moments later with Kamal. Turki introduced himself again, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Kamal, and then an invitation for his newest guest to make himself comfortable. Tea was served, and nearly an hour of smalltalk followed, whereby Houshmand learned that Turki's father was the most powerful man in Nejd. For his part, Houshmand easily told the short version of his own story, including how Kocak had come to be his comrade, the time in Jeddah, the trip to Karachi and Delhi, then through Afghanistan and Persia, the highwaymen, and finally Baghdad.

When Houshmand had finished, Turki sat back a serious look on his face. "A remarkable tale, indeed. I have great respect for what you have endured and what you have accomplished Houshmand." Houshmand nodded, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. Turki: "I am, of course, not just here to visit, but also on business. I hope you will indulge me.

"You have, in your efforts to bring order to Baghdad cost my father an appreciable amount of money. Many of the shopkeepers who now donate to your cause in exchange for peace and protection once paid larger sums to men in my father's employ. I cannot say that my father is displeased, as he sees the truth and righteousness of your cause and efforts, but nonetheless he is distressed by the inconvenience this as caused to his own affairs.

"My father would prefer to avoid any... unpleasantness. He feels that you and he are of a like mind in your goals: that the decrepit and inept Ottoman regime must be swept away and replaced by something pure and efficient and more in accord with the teachings of the Prophet. He believes that you and he should come to some agreement on how certain necessary functions of public security might be divided, and of course the necessary funds that make those functions possible. With that done, he'd like to discuss just how you and he might coordinate future actions toward larger goals."

Turki took a sip of his tea, while Houshmand took a moment to digest what he had just said. Houshmand replied obliquely: "Your father, to have become such a well respected man in his community and indeed as far as here in Baghdad, must be a careful and considerate man. I hope that I might one day be regarded similarly. I see no reason why you and I might not discuss such affairs in detail, but the day grows late and it will soon be time for prayer. May we continue this conversation in the future?"

Turki simply nodded, and Kamal invited him to come along to the Mosque, an offer he respectfully declined. Kamal and Houshmand showed him to the gate, and watched as he rejoined his party. Kocak joined them.

"What was that all about anyway?" Kocak asked.

Kamal: "It seems we've been noticed by the Lion of Najd. Beside being the greatest crime lord in Arabia, he's also a noted rebel against the Empire who has all but banished the Sultan's power from Najd. They say that the army moved down to Hofuf as much to prevent him getting established there as to support the operation in Oman. We should handle him and his son quite carefully."

[Guinness]

A reminder: this story has more or less caught up to the present day...

Kamal's second son, Jamail, had been doing a lot of growing up since the return of his brother Ali's body to his father. Kamal had always included Jamail in his family business and affairs, especially while Ali had been away from home, but for his part Jamail had never taken business very seriously. Ali's death had changed all that.

So it was not surprising to Jamail when Kamal had asked him, on his and Houshmand's behalf, to travel to Najd to represent them in a meeting with Ibn Saud. Still, at this moment, Jamail found himself wishing Ali was still alive so that it would be him sitting on this horse in the middle of the desert instead of him.

Turki turned on his horse and gestured toward Jamail. "Come my friend! Enjoy the beauty of the desert! We are almost there!" Turki, Jamail and the rest of the party had already slept 15 nights on the trip so far. Much of that had been along the trail through the nearly featureless Arabian desert. Jamail was already ready to go home.

He forced a smile and nodded to Turki. "I look forward to it!" One of the camels carrying water snorted.

Riyadh was underwhelming for Jamail. He wasn't expecting much, but the small city of about 15,000 wasn't much when compared to Baghdad. Still Ibn Saud's residence, while not necessarily opulent, was at the very least well appointent. A feast was laid out to welcome the travelers. Turki said a prayer of thanks to Allah, and with that Jamail settled own with a portion of Mansaf, and tugged his green armband up before digging in. He was hungry.

On the journey, Jamail had gotten to know Turki, and had taken a liking to the young man. They were of about the same age, and so had quite a bit in common. Jamail told Turki of the many things that Houshmand and his men had done for his father and his family, and for the people of Baghdad in general. They shared a mutual disdain for the Ottomans.

After the feast, Turki's father, Ibn Saud joined them. "I hope that you have all enjoyed this fine food that Allah has seen fit to provide for us." Looking at Jamail: "I understand that your father was equally welcoming of my son. I am honored to repay his hospitality." Jamail expressed his own gratitude and Ibn Saud grinned widely. "It has been a long journey, I'm sure. Rest. Tomorrow we'll talk business!"

Jamail had no trouble sleeping in the comfortable accommodations provided to him by Ibn Saud that night. The next morning, he had breakfast with his hosts before they retired to Ibn Saud's private sitting room for tea and conversation.

"The times are changing! I can feel it!" Ibn Saud was enthusiastic. "For generations we Arabs have carved out our existence in spite of Ottoman rule. Now, it seems, between what is happening here in Arabia, and what is happening in Baghdad, the cracks in the Ottoman wall have begun to show. Perhaps now is the time for Allah's will on earth to be done!"

Ibn Saud sipped his tea. "You men in Baghdad seem well organized." He pointed to Jamail's green armband. My son told me much of your leader, this Houshmand. I have many questions."

"I will do my best to answer them." Jamail responded.

Ibn Saud, Turki and Jamail discussed religion, politics and business for hours. Business for Saud, of course, was something quite different than that of Jamail's father. But still, the conversation was genial. Jamail came to wonder what exactly Ibn Saud wanted. He began to fear he might be in Riyadh for weeks.

Ibn Saud, possibly reading Jamail's expression, decided to get to the point: "You are wondering where all this talk is leading us, no?" He flashed the broad smile again, and stood up.

Looking through the stone screen over the courtyard toward the Tuwaiq Escarpment on the horizing, Ibn Saud clasped his hands behind his back and turned. "Turki has expressed to you just how... inconvenient Houshmand's efforts have been to me and my business interests in Mesopotamia. The lost profit is distressing, but as a businessman, I always am on the lookout for future investment opportunities. To that end, I propose a newly formalized relationship between Houshmand's organization and mine."

Ibn Saud took a few steps toward Jamail. "In short, I'd like the chance to end all Ottoman influence in Najd and beyond. I believe Houshamand, given the right capitol funding and information, could provide me that oppportunity soon. What I have in mind will... destabilize the Ottomans for some time. Once Najd is free, Houshmand can then make Mesopotamia free too. "

Jamail looked into Ibn Saud's face. "You mean revolution then? To what end? Do you mean for Arabia to become it's own nation?"

Saud smiled again. Clever boy!

"Yes, and no. We in Arabia are used to ruling our own affairs. The Ottomans only meddle and collect taxes. I can't imagine things are too much different in Baghdad. Still, I believe Houshmand is right about a great many things." He gestured toward a shelf in the corner. Jamail read the title on the spine of a book that rested there. It was a leather-bound edition of Houshmand's book.

"It is true that until the Islamic world is unified again, until there is again one true Caliph, that we will always be exposed to the manipulation of the infidel. In exchange for more local control of our own affairs, the Arabians would provide manpower and a reasonable amount of money to make the Holy Cities and indeed all believers the world over safe from the machinations of the evil men to the west."

Ibn Saud sat down again.

"Of course, we'd also expect a certain amount of influence over the affairs of this new federation of the Islamic peoples. Who knows who might be made Caliph one day, after all."

Jamail let the silence hang for a few moments while he collected his thoughts before speaking: "Respectfully, sir, the words you speak here are at best seditious, and probably worse. Our group has confined it's efforts so far in Baghdad to reestablishing law and order and the respect for the Prophet's teachings. You speak of overthrowing the government in Constantinople! I know not what Houshmand or my father would say to such things."

Ibn Saud chuckled. "What do you think you have been doing in Baghdad? Are you not subverting the power (such as it is) of the Ottomans through your efforts. It's a wonder they haven't marched the army in and cracked down on your whole lot! I suppose they've been distracted lately. Think about it, young man! What is the logical ends of your efforts. What does Houshmand posit is the natural order of things in his book? Is it not exactly the ends to which I speak? The Ottomans are a bankrupt, corrupt regime. It's time to sweep them aside and build something new! Something true to the Prophet's teachings!"

Another uncomfortable silence settled over the three men.

Turki spoke: "I think we've worked quite hard enough for one day, haven't we!" He took Jamail by the shoulder. "Come, let me show you what our little city has to offer."

Jamail stayed for seven more days before Ibn Saud dispatched Turki to return him to Baghdad. On the day they left, Ibn Saud appeared with a swath of green fabric in his hand. "Tell Houshmand I have had hundreds of these made, and can make many more. Tell him I wait for word of our alliance so that me and my men may don these, and fight in the name of reform, liberation, and Islamic unity!"