My Love, where have you gone? Where is the jewel that shone so brightly in your heart when we were young? I was away from you for years, campaigning across mountains and deserts, called by duty to my sardharan. Though never did I forsake you, nor our love. And now at last that I have come back, laden with the riches of far lands and strange peoples, enough to provide our family for ten lifetimes, you have grown cold. What happened in those years? Why won't you embrace me the way you once did, with such passion? It was that fire that drove me through war and death and sickness, those memories of our life before. Why does my own daughter fear me now? The day I returned you wept and she ran into the house as if from a ghost. When I embrace her now she cringes, as if expecting a whip. Our own Fatima, why should she be so afraid? I chased butterflies with her when she was but able to walk. Why should she now stiffen when I touch her? And where is your family? Mine were long dead when we were wed but yours loved and cherished our union, always some cousin or aunt was around to talk or invite us to dinner with them. Why won't you speak to me? I was nobody when I left for the war, but now I am returned, a deghan in the service of our lord, one of his trusted bodyguards, the commander of a hundred lancers and yet, my stallion Hafez was hamstrung in our field last night! They left him in misery for me to find this morning. My Love, what has happened to our home?