Granada (3 page)

"Are you feeling ill, Abu Jaafar?"

Abu Jaafar didn't respond, nor did he look in Naeem's direction. He remained with his head bent down and his eyes lost in distraction. The day went on and the phantom of the young woman remained fixed in his mind. He was disturbed and saddened by it, but it was not until the following day when he heard the news of the meeting at the Alhambra that a foreboding unease took possession of him. Rumors were circulating about Ibn Abi Ghassan's drowning in the River Genil. Could the naked woman then be a credible sign, he wondered, like a vision or an omen?

His pessimism grew steadily and entrenched itself deep in his heart when Naeem told him several days later the story of a woman whose naked corpse had been found drifting on the river.

"Was it the Darro or the Genil?"

"The Genil."

"Then there's no escape."

Naeem stared at him inquisitively, but Abu Jaafar remained silent, explaining nothing of what he had just said. The river's currents had swallowed up the last hope. The cord of the nation was severed and God's children have been orphaned.

For three nights neither Granada nor Albaicin slept.
¹
The people talked incessantly not of the peace treaty but of the disappearance of Mousa Ibn Abi Ghassan. They were swallowed up by rumors that swe
pt in waves from the River Genil to the Ainadamar watercourse,
²
from the Najd Gate to the Sahl Ibn Malik cemetery. The news seeped onto the streets and throughout every neighborhood, as well as into all the public gardens. The waters of the Genil
carried it from the outskirts of the city and brought it into the Darro where it crossed over to the west bank. From there it traveled to Sabika, Alhambra, and the Generalife. It reached the end of the east bank that connected to the old Casbah and Albaicin. It extended beyond the walls and gates of the city, past the towers and the fences of the vineyards, toward the Sierra Nevada from one side, and toward the Gibralfaro to the other.

1. Albaicin is a suburb of Granada where the Muslims resided in the post-Reconquest. Its origin is most likely from the Arabic,
al-Bayyazin,
the falconers.

2. The Fuente Grande, known to the Muslims as Ainadamar, from the Arabic
'ayn
al-dam
',
the fountain of tears.

Some claimed that Mousa Ibn Abi Ghassan had stormed out of the meeting at Alhambra resolved to fight the Castilians. He battled their troops single-handedly, but when they caught up with him and were on the verge of defeating him, he threw himself into the river. Others said that he was killed by the young King Muhammad who wanted to accomplish his goals without any conflict or opposition. The ill-fated
chiquito
handed over the country and sold whatever he could of it while Ibn Abi Ghassan lay in wait for him.

A third group believed that he neither drowned himself nor was killed, but rather that he escaped to the mountains to train men and prepare for battle. And yet a fourth group held the view that drowning or not drowning made no difference whatsoever, but that these were not his times, nor ours. So, why don't we either carry off what we can of our possessions and depart, they thought, or remain as Muslims, entrusting ourselves to God and the new rulers, and live out the remainder of our lives in peace.

How could this be? This question was like a sharp knife that made a deep incision in Abu Jaafar's soul, and like everyone else it made him wary just to think about it, let alone discuss it with others. He was pondering this question when the town crier passed by, announcing the articles of the new agreement. He walked out toward him until he stood right next to him. Abu Jaafar listened carefully to all the terms of the agreement, beginning with the decree that the king of Granada, his military officers, the judges and chamberlains, scholars and lawyers, as well as all other public officials, turn over the reins of power in a period not to exceed sixty days. Then the last term was read out, which decreed that King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella be granted the exclusive right to execute
the terms of the treaty, and to pass this right on to their sons and grandsons and whomever succeeded them to the throne. When the town crier moved on to another place Abu Jaafar remained close behind.

The people of Granada always kept their ears to the ground and were prone to gathering as much information as possible. Whenever the town crier announced an item of news, or the imam at the mosque ascended the pulpit before the Friday prayer to expound upon a given subject, whether to explain or defend it, they listened out of a need for reassurance or for something to hold on to, and they were quick to fill the gaps left by any missing information from these public pronouncements. But this time, in spite of the fact that neither the town crier nor the imam announced anything concerning the Alhambra meeting, Abu Jaafar, like everyone else, knew what had transpired there:

Abu Qasim Ibn Abdel-Malik and Yusuf Ibn Kumasha, the two ministers appointed by the king to negotiate, entered the Grand Hall in the company of De Safra, the representative of the king of Aragon and the queen of Castile. All three carried copies of the treaty to read. The young king Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad sobbed,
³
lamenting the fact that he was ill-fated to be a king condemned to witness the fall of his realm. All the other ministers, the admirals and generals, and the religious leaders, wept in silence as they chanted over and over again, "There is no power or strength save in God," and "There is no escape from what God has decreed." Mousa Ibn Abi Ghassan objected vehemently to the agreement and demanded that those in attendance reject it outright. But when he found no one to support him, he stormed out of the castle in a fit of anger, mounted his horse, and disappeared. The attendees repeated, "There is no escape from what God has decreed," and assured themselves that the conditions of the treaty were the best that they could attain. As tears flowed from their eyes, they signed.

3. Abu 'Abdallah b. Muhammad, best known in the west as Boabdil, was the last Muslim ruler in Spain.

Abu Jaafar wondered how a king could commit himself to surrender his kingdom, and how the military and legal authorities of the land, along with all its lawful citizens, could acquiesce to hand over, in abject obedience, the Alhambra citadel, the fortress town and its towers, as well as the city gates of Granada and Albaicin, including the adjacent villages.

He walked behind the town crier who was surrounded by a dense mob of townspeople. People avoided looking at one another in the eye, and they tilted their heads to hide their broken reflections and trembling eyelids. They walked with their arms closely held to their sides. They moved their heavy feet slowly, in an atmosphere of silence eerily reinforced by the ringing voice of the town crier and the rustling of dry, yellow leaves.

When the town crier went away and the crowd dissipated, Abu Jaafar found himself walking alone in the cold of night, not heading toward any particular place, but just letting his two feet wander through the streets that they knew only too well. He was telling himself that this ill-fated king was not their first and wouldn't be their last, and that Abu Abdallah would go away and that no one else, ill-fated or not, would replace him except Christian kings. His insides convulsed at this thought and he quickly dismissed it from his mind, closing the door on it, and replacing it with concise facts and logical reasoning. Everything changes except the face of Almighty God. Hadn't Sultan Yusuf al-Mul concluded a more humiliating treaty with the Castilians, and hadn't Sultan Aysar then come along, abrogated it, and declared war on them? And hadn't Sultan Abu Hasan at first agreed to pay the poll tax, then reneged when he dispatched his enemies to inform the king and queen of Castile that our treasuries would only be minting swords these days? And that ill-fated pubescent, didn't he begin his rule by fighting them until he was captured? Who knows what will happen tomorrow? He's not the first of them, nor the last. They've all come and gone, may Granada remain safe and sound, with God's permission and will, he intoned.

Abu Jaafar was making every effort to calm his soul, which felt
at that moment like a caged bird flapping its wings in fear of a sharp pointed knife. He was telling himself over and over again that Granada was safe and that it would survive. He jammed his mind with words, and extended his hand through the netting to his soul, stroking its wet feathers and its quivering body, soothing and caressing it, singing to it a soft lullaby to rock it to sleep.

The morning sun was changing direction above the streets until it eventually disappeared. Abu Jaafar continued his walk until he found himself at the bank of the River Genii. He stared into its waters and the phantom of the naked woman appeared as though coming out of the water toward him. He fixed his gaze more closely, and this time could only see the ripples of the water. Then she reappeared on the surface of the water, ivory-like, growing bigger in death, until she covered the entire surface of the river. He stood motionless and began to sweat profusely.

2

A
bu Mansour was sitting on the proprietor's bench in the bathhouse to the right of the front door. He mumbled a response to the two men's greetings, then pointed to the closet where they kept the clean folded towels. Saad took three towels and followed his master up three steps that lead to the western wing, where he helped him take off his clothes and cover up his nakedness with a loincloth he wrapped around his waist. He carefully folded his master's clothes and placed them in a large silk garment bag. Then he took off his own clothes except for his drawers and put them into an old sack. He handed both bundles to Abu Mansour who kept his head bowed down and said nothing.

Before entering the bath proper, the master went into the toilet while Saad sat waiting on one of the benches. There were only three other men in the central foyer. Two of them sat on a bench opposite Saad, while the third, a tall, lean man, paced back and forth, crossing the large foyer from the front door to the back door.

Saad was wondering what was wrong with Abu Mansour. He wanted to know if he was sick but didn't dare ask. It wasn't like him to sit at the entrance to the bathhouse like all the other bathhouse owners. He would rather have one of his employees sit there and take the customers' belongings while he would skitter about, shuffling hurriedly from one room to another, bringing soap to a client or a basin to another, or perhaps a loincloth or a towel to whomever asked for one. He would stop to tell an amusing story or crack a joke
that would make everyone roar with laughter. He was a portly man in his fifties, or maybe even his forties. He had a ruddy complexion, finely chiseled features, and a smooth, sleek beard. He had a small head and a big paunch that jounced whenever he laughed. But today, he just sat there, sullen-faced, greeting no one and saying nothing.

"Who could be absolutely sure? Who?" Saad looked up and saw the tall thin man passing in front of him, pacing back and forth muttering these words to himself. As he walked he raised his shoulders so high that they almost reached his ears. One of the two men sitting down yelled out to him, "You're making us dizzy. Why don't you calm down and sit like everyone else?" But the man paid no attention and kept pacing and muttering to himself.

The inside room of the bathhouse was packed with clients. Some were seated on the tile bench next to the furnace sweating in the thick steam; others went into the pool to purify themselves before bathing. There were men lying down, on their stomachs and on their backs, submitting themselves to a servant or a bath attendant who busily groomed them, massaged them, or simply poured hot water over their heads. All of the men were engaged in some kind of conversation as their voices cut across both ends of the bath. Even those in the private rooms for hair-removal contributed to the banter from behind a curtain that shielded the others from their stark nakedness. Saad and his master sat cross-legged in their usual spot next to one of the water heaters. His master stretched out his arms while Saad poured water and lathered the washcloth, then he began to scrub his right hand and arm, then the underarm, before moving over to the left. Someone yelled out: "Abu Jaafar, may God be pleased with you! We don't have the privilege of choosing one thing or another. It's our fate! We're defeated, so how can we choose?"

Another bather interrupted. "I'm with you! The agreement is evil, there's no doubt about it. Our leader was in a difficult situation, and the resistance that Ibn Abi Ghassan wanted to launch was doomed from the start. So what could he do, and what can we do in the face of their awesome army and their new Italian artillery?"

"We can fight them. I swear by the God of the Kaaba,
¹
we can fight them," responded Abu Jaafar. .

Saad was following the conversation, straining to listen since he wasn't able to see who was speaking because he was seated facing his master, and all that was in his view was the wall and the water heater to his left.

"Why should we fight them? Aren't ten years of war enough? Do you want us to end up like the people of Malaga eating our own mules and the leaves off the trees?"

"After submission, they'll teach us a lesson we'll never forget. The treaty is nothing but a worthless piece of paper. If we surrender Granada to them, they'll force us to drop to our knees whenever a clerical procession passes by. They'll force us to live in separate quarters with only one gate, and they'll put the sword of expulsion to our throats. What will prevent them from doing all of this once they take control of our country?"

The master stretched out on his back while Saad worked on his knees. He massaged his upper body, stomach, and legs before the master turned over and Saad massaged his back.

"Surrender will prevent them from doing any further damage to us, and it will allow us to maintain some of our rights."

"How so?"

Other voices followed in repetition, in piercing tones that came close to screeching. The master pulled away his hand and sat upright.

"The treaty stipulates that we be treated honorably, and that our religion, customs, and traditions be respected, and that we be free to buy and sell, and that we preserve our rights to our property, our arms and horses, and that we have legal recourse to our judges in arbitrating matters of dispute. Even our prisoners shall be returned to us, pardoned and free."

"Merely ink on paper," retorted Abu Jaafar.

Saad went back to work grooming his master, and when he fin
ished he stretched out his hand to show him the dirt stains that came from his body, the living proof that Saad had done a thorough job in scrubbing him clean. Saad then took the basin and ladled out hot water and poured it over his master's head as he soaped and rinsed.

1. The Kaaba, a place of veneration at the Grand Mosque in Mecca.