Friday, 30th November 1545
Ottoman Territory, Medina
Adorned with symmetrical geometrical shapes and Arabic calligraphy the ceiling of Al-Masjid An-Nabawi is a spectacle to admire. Faint traces of smoke from the candles rose near the ceilings. Before touching the intricate patterns, the smoke was directed by a breeze into a chamber. Inside the chamber the smoke condensed and solidified into black sooth.
A man entered the chamber through a door at the edge of the room. His face was covered with cloth mask, protecting him from the thick smoke. Using a tool made from wood and date tree leaves he scraped the sooth into a container. Taking the container, he poured it into a tub in another room. Then he poured a specific liquid onto the sooth. Using a wooden lever he moved the big wood beam, incorporating the sooth and the liquid together. The liquid travelled down the pipe and poured into a barrel of the same liquid. There another man lifted the liquid into a processing room.
"Omar, the sultan requests some of ink. Bring me the finest inkwell." Entering the room the sultan's aide said to Omar
"Right away, here, the finest of inks. There aren't any clots and the viscosity is perfect." Reaching into a cupboard Omar fished out an inkwell, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Thank you, Omar, May Allah bless you. Your work here is of great service to the people, the sultan, and most importantly the house of God." Said said as he picked up the inkwell
"You're welcome, Said. Now hurry, don't make the Sultan wait. He has a lot to attend to." Shooing away the attendant, Omar resumed working on processing the barrel of raw ink.
Snickering, Said walked out of the room to the Masjid's courtyard. He knew that Omar shooed him because he was embarrassed of his compliments.
Quickly he left the production section of Masjid and walked to the worship area. Because there were only a few minutes till the Maghrib prayer the area was filled by people.
Some were reciting the holy verses, some were reading them, others gathered around to talk about their day. The Masjid had become a hub to gather and meet each other. A place to confide with both god and human, somewhere people could let their guard down and relax.
Passing through these groups of people, Said reached the northwestern corner part of the Masjid. There a man draped in simple white clothes sat, undistinguishable to the common populace. He sat their gazing at the sun that was slowly sinking down the horizon, causing parts of the sky to turn into hues of red and yellow.
"Sultan, I have brought the inkwell." Bowing a little Said put down the inkwell beside the man
"Thank you Said, you may retire now. It will be Maghrib in a little, you can go prepare yourself for the prayer." Sultan Suleiman nodded his head to Said as he dismissed him.
After bowing in respect Said left the sultan without another word. Picking up the quill he had set down before, Sultan Suleiman continued writing the letter he had been writing before. Just when the sun nearly set entirely Suleiman finished writing the letter, setting down the quill he picked up a cup filled with Karak chai.
The aroma of the Karak tea coupled with the sunset reminded Suleiman of memories long passed. Memories he holds dear till the day he dies, the memory of meeting his wife, Jiǎo Yuèlíng. Just as his thoughts were about to surf into the ocean of memories, the sound of Adzan resounded through the air, pulling him away from his thoughts.
Realising it was time for salah, Suleiman stood up from his place and started walking to the wudhu area.
Around half an hour later he finished Maghrib prayer and dua. Returning back to his previous place Suleiman observed the surroundings. Children played around with each other and adults catched up with their friends. The atmosphere was peaceful and serene.
"Ya sultan, I have news for you. It is about your wife, Sultanah Jiǎo." The serene atmosphere was broken by a women running excitedly
"Fatma, my dear sister. What is it that could possibly make you run so franticly?" Trying hard to keep calm, Suleiman stood up to greet his sister.
"Great news brother, amazing news Alhamdulillah." Fatma held Suleiman's hands excitedly as she jumped up and down a little.
"Alhamdulillah, what is the news sister? You are killing me with the suspense." His heart already beating like drums, Suleiman urged his sister.
"Brother, your wife Jiǎo Sultanah has given birth to a boy. Both of them are healthy and well."
"Praise God" Dropping down to his knees, Suleiman prostrated towards the Qibla.
Seeing this Fatma waited for his brother to finish before kneeling down and helping her brother up.
"Fatma, hurry. Guide me to líng-líng." Suleiman grasped his sister's hands to stand up.
"Come," she urged, "let us go to her."
He needed no further encouragement. Together they hurried toward the stables. His mare, Kuylan, lifted her head from her feed as he approached.
"Forgive me, old friend," Suleiman whispered, stroking her neck. "My wife has just birthed our son, I need to meet them. Will you let me ride to the hospital?"
As if understanding what her master said, Kuylan neighed and lifted her head from the feed.
"Thank you, I promise you can have your dinner at the hospital later." Suleiman tightened the saddle, mounted with a practiced motion, and kicked into a gallop. Fatma followed close behind.
The Al-Rasyid Asy-Syifa Medical Complex spread across the northeastern district like a small city. Lanterns flickered in its courtyards, and the smell of herbs drifted through its shaded walkways. After leaving Kuylan in the stables, Suleiman strode into the main building.
A doctor hurried forward.
"Ya Sultan Ar-Rum, your presence is awaited on the third floor. Come. I shall guide you."
Suleiman inclined his head. "Were you responsible for my wife and child?"
"One of several, Majesty. Doctor Izel oversaw the birth. Your wife showed great strength."
They approached a tall wooden shaft lined with carved lattice screens. At its base rested a broad wooden platform large enough for stretchers. Beside it, through an arched opening, the Sultan glimpsed the turning blades of a great saqiya wheel. Water flowed over it in a steady rhythm, diverted from the hospital's gardens.
The doctor spoke as the nurse released the brake.
"The scholars and craftsmen completed this lift three years ago. The saqiya turns the wooden gears, pulling counterweights along the shaft. It carries patients to the upper floors gently, without shaking them. The Sultanah was lifted to the third floor with this lift."
The gears engaged with a soft wooden clatter. The platform rose slowly, borne by the quiet power of flowing water. The murmuring wheel echoed softly — a tranquil, purposeful sound.
Suleiman watched it ascend, grateful for the minds that served his empire, though his thoughts were fixed entirely on the room above.
The platform reached the third floor with a soft thump.
"To the left, Your Majesty," the doctor said.
Suleiman moved before the words were finished. He opened the chamber door.
"líng-líng!" Seeing his wife lying weakly on the bed, Suleiman hurriedly went to her side, hugging her.
"Bixia, I am fine. Calm yourself down darling, Doctor Izel did a wonderous job in helping the process." While caressing her husband's cheeks Jiao spoke softly, calming Suleiman's anxiety.
Looking into his wife's eyes Suleiman saw love, assurance, and joy. Unable to hold himself, he kissed her gently on the lips. His hand wrapped around her frame in a protective embrace.
Waa! Waa!
The moment was broken by a baby's cry, loosening his embrace Suleiman looked down to his wife's arms. A baby, it's skin still pink cried out in protest after being squeezed between it's parents.
"Is he?" His voice full of wonder, Suleiman's eyes widened in fascination. Although this wasn't the first time he laid his eyes on his children, his heart would still burst in joy and amazement whenever he witnessed their first moments into the world.
"He is your son Bixia, name him." Handing over her newly born son to Suleiman, Jiao looked at her husband with a smile, capturing the moment her husband holding their son for the first time.
Looking down at his son, Suleiman first calmed him down. Swinging gently the boy calmed down and held up his hands. Unable to resist the cuteness Suleiman slipped his index finger into the little grip of his hands. With a clasp his son held tightly onto the finger, his wail softening.
"His name shall be Alauddin. 'Glory of Faith' Just like how he holds strongly on to my finger, he shall hold the reigns of glory in his grasp and bring to our faith. He shall stand beside me in court and ride beside me to battle, he will be my most trusted." Eyes sparkling with pride and joy Suleiman leaned down to kiss his son' forehead.
"Aamiin, may our son grow up smart and strong." Looking at the scene in front of her affectionately, Jiao's eyes welled up with tears of joy.
Looking at the scene in front of her Doctor Izel and Fatma Sultan quietly left the room with the nurses. Noticing they were now alone Suleiman climbed onto the spacious bed and lied down beside his wife. Their son resting in between them.
"Ling-ling, you can rest now. You have fought a great battle; you deserve much rest." Suleiman once again wrapped his arms around his wife, this time leaving some space for their son.
Already very tired, Jiao gave a smile to her husband before drifting off into sleep. In her sleep the memories of 11 years ago resurrected itself as a dream.