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  First she noticed the elephants. There had to be one hundred of them at least, all pounding the earth into submission as they thundered toward her village. The beasts wore armor on their fronts. On their backs were elaborate fortresses, which carried a handful of men armed to the teeth and yelling excitedly at the top of their lungs. The dust swirled up behind the mob of creatures as they tore up the earth with their soles. The elephants provided the shock of armor that military commanders would use tanks for in the future

  Behind them were the horsemen, hundreds of them. They were swirling their swords high in the air and yelling war cries as well. Roopa was petrified. Their chain mail armor reflected in the sun, and the contrast with the leather coverings was unmistakable. The horses wore armor as well. Their riders’ faces were covered with grotesque, fearsome helmets.

  She broke from her trance. What should she do? Whatever it was, it had to be done quick.

  Roopa knew who they were. They were the Ghaznavids. She had never seen them before, but she had heard stories. They were the Turkic nation that had absorbed the Persian realm and its way of life to the north and west. They had controlled most of the mountains and deserts to the west, also occasionally the northern part of India, the Punjab. Their western lands had been lost over the last few decades; however, they frequently reinvaded the Punjab in order to plunder the wealthy villages and exact tribute from the Indian kings. Little did Roopa know that they were the reason why she was a Muslim now. The Ghaznavids had spread Islam throughout their empire over the last few hundred years.

  The empire descended from slaves of the Turkish regime who fought their way out of bondage and gained their freedom. They had succeeded in conquering Persia, known today as Iran, and present-day Afghanistan. However, the heirs to the throne were not as cunning and ruthless as their elders. Much of the kingdom had been lost. They were fearless warriors and enslaved Afghan and Indian warriors to flesh out their armies. India foremost was a ripe target for pillage and plunder. The women were especially valued for their beauty. Roopa understood this. The empire now depended on raids into India to maintain their sultan’s lifestyle and to fund his armies. They were here for no good purpose indeed.

  What should I do? she screamed to herself without uttering a sound. She decided to hide. There was a crawl space above her room, which no one could find. She had hid there as a child and even her parents could never find her. Although much bigger now, she managed to squeeze her way through the beams into the small space between the floors. There was even a thin ray of light coming through a seam in the building where the walls came together. She worked her way towards it so she could see outside and watch what was going on.

  Roopa feared for her family.

  The rows of elephants stopped short of Roopa’s village. They ringed the mill and the surrounding structures. No one could enter or leave. The horses began to graze as some of the soldiers dismounted and began to search the homes. Young men and boys were marched out and put into a group in the center guarded by infantry. The young ones were crying. They would never see their families again. One of the soldiers grabbed a young teenage girl and carried her off to his horse. The girl’s mother ran out to try to stop what was happening. She was cut down with a swipe of a sword, her head severed from her body. The girl screamed in horror while the horsemen in their saddles laughed.

  Roopa’s house was searched. All of the inhabitants including her family and servants were lead out into the common area of the village and guarded. She was not found but shook with fear.

  The soldiers reached the sugar mill and the cooling houses. All of the sugar loaves were taken and loaded on the elephants. It was a fantastic haul, since the harvest was near completion and the refining was mostly done as well. The sugar was worth a small fortune, and the military commander intended to sell the sugar to the west for weapons.

  That was more than Roopa’s father could bear. The sugar was his life and the lifeline for his clan. He broke free from the soldier who was guarding him and rushed to the foot soldiers loading the sugar onto the beasts. Roopa watched in terror as an archer on a horse drew his bow. “No!” she screamed.

  Upon hearing her scream, they turned to reenter the house to look for her. She saw them look up toward the area of the house in which she hid. Her heart sank.

  The arrow left the archer’s bow and penetrated her father’s back, piercing his kidney. He collapsed to the ground. Roopa bolted from her hiding place and rushed out the door of the home to the astonishment of the soldiers. Her beauty entranced them, and they did nothing but watch as she ran to her dying father. She caressed his head as the life ebbed from his body. No one disturbed her for a few moments. Tears streamed down her face and he died in her arms.

  The ranks of the elephants broke, and a single rider emerged. The foot soldiers gave way and bowed to him as he passed. He trotted over to where Roopa lay on the ground, sobbing, cradling her father’s head. She looked up at the figure cloaked in armor and was terrified by the sight of him.

  He said nothing.

  He reached down and grabbed Roopa under the arm with incredible strength, lifting her up to his horse to ride behind him. She could not resist. She was broken.

  Then he rode away. The army with their spoils of war, including new forced recruits, followed. The captured young girls were thrown in a wagon. Mercifully the remaining villagers were left alone in their grief.

  Chapter Four

  Roopa awoke as the cart wheel hit a rock and she was slammed into the side of the wooden vehicle. The horses grunted in pain as the cart shifted to one side violently and pulled against their harnesses. She had been sleeping for some time, her side sore from lying on the wooden floor of the wagon. The light from the sunrise was peeking over the mountains. The air was cool. It was the first day of her new life.

  She couldn’t remember much since she was taken from the village. Her father was dead, she knew that was true. She wept for hours after being thrown in the back of the wagon with several other girls by the frightening stranger who had scooped her off the ground and rode away with her. The rest of the girls in the wagon were still asleep. She didn’t wake them. Let them be at peace for a while, she thought.

  She wondered where they were taking her. She had visions of being tortured and thrown to the tigers. Her imagination was running away with her. Enough, she thought to herself. You have to be strong.

  She did know one thing. They were heading west. They were heading towards Ghazni, the terrible yet wonderfully mysterious capital of the Ghaznavid Empire. They were traveling along the path taken by the caravans that brought goods from the Far East to the West. They were traveling the Silk Road, or at least one tangent of it.

  The Silk Road was the labyrinth of trails that were established over the centuries to allow for the flow of goods from China and other parts of the East to the Persian and Indian Empires and beyond. Eventually, the goods would reach Europe and the Middle East. It could take upwards of a year to make the full journey by horseback. She hoped they would not be traveling for that long. If they were going to kill me, they would have done so already. The thought gave her strength.

  Roopa had heard of these caravans and the Silk Road. She had watched as her father traded with them and bought the beautiful papers with which she made her designs for the sugar loaves. They were always a mysterious yet fascinating group of people. They acted in strange ways and had strange customs. She was frightened about where she was being taken, but something piqued her curiosity as well. She pushed that curiosity back down into the dark regions of her soul. It did not honor the memory of her father.

  Dawn was rising. The other girls in the wagon started to stir. Roopa wondered where the man was who took her. Who was he? Why did the other soldiers bow to him? She was scared and interested at the same time. However, all of these new feelings were drowned out when the memory of her father’s death returned. How would she go on? How would she survive without her loving parents? At that moment, she
swore to herself she would survive. Whatever horrors awaited her, she would be strong. She would be brave. She would be proud. She was a Jatt.

  She could see the entire convoy now. The light was getting brighter. The army was all around her. The look on the horsemen’s faces as they sneered at the girls petrified her. It was as if they knew the fate that awaited them. There were horses as far as the eye could see. In the distant rear, she saw the elephants. They were rounding a bend in the pass and coming into view, their armor reflecting the light from the morning sun.

  The trail was now leading them through the mountains towards Ghazni. Roopa had never been in the mountains. She was fascinated with the cliffs growing around her. The earth was almost barren with an occasional plant thriving in the desolate environment. Her mouth was dry. Everything was foreign now in her life. She felt lost.

  Suddenly she saw him. He was riding a horse galloping to the front of the convoy. He had several fearsome riders beside him. He did not look at her, but she saw him. He was handsome. Something stirred inside of her, awakening her instincts. For a moment, she forgot about her father and felt excitement. Would he come back for her? She watched in the direction he had traveled for some time. When he did not return, she lay back down in the cart next to another girl and fell asleep. She dreamed of making sugar with her father and watching the cane fields twist in the wind.

  They had been traveling for weeks now, and the temperature was starting to moderate during the hottest part of the day. Roopa was used to only three seasons in the Punjab: summer, the rainy season, and winter. She was glad winter was now approaching. She had been given a much more encompassing veil to wear a while back. She liked the privacy but it was warm inside. The cooler temperatures would be helpful and allow for more comfort.

  Roopa had not seen her captor for days. She watched for him constantly.

  Many days later, they left the mountains and descended into a valley. The wind grew stronger as they left the peaks behind. The sun was high in the sky when Ghazni came into view. The walled city sat distant on a plateau above the plain. The fortress looked formidable. Two large minarets were visible rising to the sky as if the humans were trying to reach Allah himself. She had never seen such a sight. They were outside the current footprint of the city and belonged to an ancient kingdom, that had stood on the same territory. Even in the twelfth century, there was such a thing as antiquity.

  The trip through the mountains had been difficult. The girls were not given much food and almost no privacy. They helped one another as much as they could. During the day, they traveled in the wagon with the rest of the army surrounding them. At night, they slept in a tent under the open sky. Beautiful Turkmen carpets adorned the floor of the temporary shelter. Their markings were strange to her, only a repeating geometric design. The colors were deep red and black. The sounds of the strange desert were new to her.

  The nights were the worst, the most frightening. There were hundreds of soldiers that had not been with a woman in months. Roopa was no fool. All of the girls knew what awaited them at some point. The waiting is what scared her the most. Frequently she heard one of the girls crying in the stillness.

  In the days leading up to their arrival at Ghazni, she had occasionally seen him, the man who had captured her. He was usually riding with several other soldiers carrying guidons, the Ghazni flag fluttering in the wind. He must be of very high rank, she thought. Since none of the girls spoke the language of the soldiers, there was not much communication between them. Later that day, one of the Hindu women saw her looking at him. She told her he was Shirzad, son of Masud, the Prince of Ghazni. Roopa was shocked. She became even more interested and even more frightened.

  They approached the heart of the empire: Ghazni.

  As they neared the city walls, Roopa could make out the minarets more clearly. The dark-colored sides contrasted with the lighter walls of the city. The towers were very ornate and covered in geographical patterns. Circular, terra-cotta roofs adorned the tops of the structures. They were of a stellar design. The footprint of each tower was that of a star. She wondered what their purpose was and what all of the designs meant. All of the strange language and cultural symbols bewildered her. Their purpose and meaning had been lost with time.

  The walls of the city were massive and built to defend the metropolis. The walkways at the top of the walls were visible from below and were teeming with soldiers. They could be seen peering through slots, which were cut into the brick at regular intervals. The soldiers were on guard at all times for the approach of a foreign army. There was an early warning system in place, but the city could never be too careful. The rule of this era was survival of the fittest. Cities were conquered all of the time. For those on the losing side, life was not good, if it lasted at all.

  The army stopped outside of the walls to camp for the evening. Darkness was approaching. The girls were nervous and scared. What was going to happen to them now? They could do nothing but wait in the cart and hope for the best. They had not been touched so far, but Roopa knew that would not last forever. The temperature began to drop again as the sun disappeared. She wrapped herself in a blanket.

  Suddenly riders approached. There were five of them—soldiers. However, they were dressed in colorful robes, as they were part of the sultan’s court. They also did not wear turbans but some other sort of fancy headdress. They stopped by the wagon that carried the females. One of the soldiers motioned to the driver, who was leaning against the wheel, trying to catch a nap after the day’s hard ride, and snapped at him in a harsh tone. The driver immediately remounted the wagon and followed the soldiers towards the city wall. Roopa was terrified as they approached the gate. Many of the girls started to weep silently.

  They entered the city.

  The Ghaznavid Empire was the first Muslim dynasty. Although they were Turkic people, they adopted the cultures of the areas they conquered and assimilated themselves. Even though it was now late in the history of this empire and they had lost their western lands, which included present day Iran, they had already immersed themselves in Persian culture. Scholars, philosophers, and poets filled Gazni. The cultivation of science and literature was a tradition handed down from the Sultan Mahmud. His mausoleum rested within the city walls as a testament to his lingering influence.

  The wealth of Ghazni was immense. The architecture was ornate and included libraries and other centers of learning. The sultan’s court was a show of the riches brought in from all over the kingdom. The girls were part of the latest haul from India, along with foreign soldiers, spices, gold, and of course sugar.

  The city was also a center of sheep trading, wool, camel hair clothing, corn, and fruit. The wealthy merchants and leaders of Ghazni wore brightly colored robes and turbans. The common people wore rags wrapped around them to block out the blowing sand and dirt. Roopa was fascinated.

  Sultan Masud now ruled Ghazni. He had just assumed the throne. He and his heirs would receive first pick of the girls.

  The wagon made its way past the mosque inside the walls and stopped at a structure near the sultan’s quarters. They were taken inside and put under the care of several older women. First, they were told to bathe and given expensive clothes to wear. Jewelry, perfumes, and plenty of wonderful food was also provided. Then they were told to wait.

  Prince Shirzad waited outside the palace court and watched as the educated flatterers made their daily pilgrimage to impart their knowledge and pleadings to the sultan. The prince waited for his father. He had not seen him in several months, but his father still made him wait. Shirzad was one of three brothers. He was not the favorite son. His father had always taken a greater interest in Mahmud, the eldest. Mahmud even succeeded his father as Governor of India. However, he had displeased his father and was therefore banished to the Fortress of Nay, never to be seen again.

  A great deal had happened while Shirzad was away gaining men and treasure for the kingdom. His father had become sultan during that time. The death
of Sultan Ibrahim was a surprise to everyone, and Masud had come to power unexpectedly. Ibrahim had brought some tranquility to the empire after making peace with the kingdoms to the north and west. Life was easier over the last decade without the threat of constant invasion.

  Everyone looked at Masud’s son Shirzad strange now and paid him much heed. He was not sure how to react to all of this newfound respect. I guess they think I am the heir, he thought to himself, unsure how to react to that possibility. In Allah’s hands.

  One thing he did know was that he wanted the girl for himself. Roopa she was called. Yes, she was blessed with beauty. He had inquired as to the meaning of her name in her language.

  He had been watching her. She did not notice of course. He did not let her see him. She was stunning.

  Once he caught sight of her from afar bathing in a stream in the mountains. The girls thought they were alone. She was an angel. He became excited just thinking about her. Her body was perfectly formed. And those eyes! He could not stop himself from thinking about her. He was cursed.

  The only problem he saw in fulfilling his dream was his father. He would want her just for himself. He was sure of it. He could not let that happen. He had to find a way. Should I speak to him about this? he wondered. No, that will only highlight her to him. He had to be more clever than that. But she was his! He had found her! She will be in my bed, if I have to kill the old man.

  Roopa was lying on a soft bed of pillows in the structure outside the palace. All of her needs were being met. She was not hungry or uncomfortable. She was just curious. Such a dreadful yet fascinating turn her life had taken.

  The older women tended to them like cattle ready to be sold. They made sure they bathed, ate well, and wore the correct perfume, but they were not nurturing. It was as if they knew the girls’ fate and did not want to be close to them.