Sultana (19 page)

She tossed her head, sending dark chestnut waves tumbling off her shoulders. She pinned Faraj with her gaze. “I have been waiting for your return, master. You promised you would summon me when you arrived. Now, I find you with this woman. Who is she?”

Through gritted teeth, Faraj said, “You’ll speak with respect about my wife, Baraka. She is the Sultana Fatima. Remember that you’re only a concubine.”

The
jarya
’s hard green eyes glittered. “Yet it is my body which pleasures you every night. You cannot favor her over me. Why is she here?”

Faraj set Fatima aside. When he dumped her on the floor in his fury, she gasped. He glared at the woman, having forgotten all about Fatima. “She’s none of your concern. Get back to the harem!”

The concubine’s eyes narrowed. She disappeared into the adjoining chamber. He raked his hand through his heavy, silken hair and turned to Fatima.

“I am sorry she interrupted us.”

Fatima clasped her hands together and eyed him. “Do not apologize, my prince.”

He frowned and reached for her. She drew back from his grasp. “I should leave now. I promised to read to my sisters.”

“Very well…but before you go, I wish to say…I hope you understand about Baraka.”

 She shook her head. Bitter bile filled her throat. She swallowed past a choking sensation and ground out an answer. “I do not want to hear about your
kadin
. My father’s lover is enough.”

Faraj rubbed his temples. “She is not my
kadin
. She’s been with me for years, but she is not my favorite.”

“Is there another who is the favorite then? When we first married, Father told me you had three concubines. Surely, one of them has endeared herself to you. It’s no wonder you can defend my father. You’re just like him.”

“I cannot believe it. I bring you into my home to offer you comfort and this is my thanks? A jealous tirade!”

She cast him an icy glare, and then left him, slamming the door in her wake.

Chapter 14

The Heart of al-Andalus

Prince Faraj

Gharnatah, al-Andalus: Muharram 672 AH (Granada, Andalusia: July AD 1273)

On the first day of a New Year, Faraj hurried to the Sultan’s throne room. When he passed through the great doors of the marble room, its occupants fell silent, regarding him with expectant eyes.

He strode toward Muhammad II and bowed, before whispering. “Our spies have confirmed the report. We are ready.”

The Sultan rubbed his hands together. “We march for Madinah Antaqirah.”

Faraj sighed to disguise the thrill of anticipation coursing through him, though others were not so cautious.

Only the Sultan remained silent. For a moment, he stared straight ahead, almost blindly. His lips thinned in a grim line. Then he dismissed the assembly. He rose with a gesture toward Faraj, who followed him to the audience chamber.

The Sultan asked over his shoulder, “Do the commanders believe the Ashqilula have been forewarned of our intent, cousin?”

Faraj replied, “No, the commanders do not believe so.”

“Our plans are secure for the moment. We must make haste if we are to catchthe Ashqilula by surprise, as we were surprised today.”

Faraj kept his silence, as they entered the vast room where the Gharnati and Marinid commanders awaited them. The Castillan, Doñ Nuño Gonzalez de Lara, and his sons stood alongside the Moorish soldiers.

The Marinids Umar and his brother Talha had come to Gharnatah nearly eight years before. The Sultan had recently appointed Umar to the post of
al-Shaykh al-Ghuzat
, commander of the Volunteers of the Faith, the Berber and expatriate Andalusi warriors who served in Gharnatah. Umar remained loyal to his master in Fés el-Bali, but Muhammad II believed he aided Andalusi interests, unless they threatened Marinid interests. Faraj did not envy Umar for serving two masters.

The commanders spoke with the Sultan. Their plans were for a swift and surreptitious deployment of men to Madinah Antaqirah. The old Sultan once called the city ‘the heart of al-Andalus’ thought it occupied the coastal region. Faraj would join the campaign, as part of the detachment of cavalry under Talha’s command.

When Muhammad II dismissed the commanders, Faraj left too.

Soon, at an impulse, he stood at the entrance to the Sultan’s harem. Yet he couldn’t enter without permission, not even to see his own wife. Shaking his head at his foolishness, he turned to go. Just then, one of the princesses entered the precincts, accompanied by a wiry eunuch. Dark red hair spilled from the confines of her light-colored gauzy veils. Her dark eyes sparkled with recognition and she approached him.

“The peace of our God be with you, Prince Faraj. I am the Sultana Muna, Fatima’s sister. Are you waiting for her?”

Faraj recalled Princess Muna, who her father had betrothed to a prince of the Zayyanids, the rulers of al-Jaza’ir.

He bowed before her. “I made no formal request to speak with your sister.” When she frowned, he paused and looked around. “Perhaps then, you wonder why I am here at all. I hadn’t planned on it. I walked without direction and found myself at these doors, I suppose.”

“Fatima told us what happened.” The princess’s eyes offered pity but he wasn’t sure whether she meant it for him, her sister, or both. “I believe she is still within. I shall fetch her.”

Faraj lingered at the base of the steps until Fatima appeared. She hesitated,frozen on the spot, her brow furrowed. She wore a tunic and skirt, her hair a billowing mass curled at her shoulders. When he gestured to the stone bench adjacent the northern wall, she slowly descended the steps. Her gaze averted, she slunk past him and sank on the marble, her hands balled into fists on her lap. Small sandaled feet peeked out under her skirt.

 Faraj sat beside her on the cold bench. She flinched. Her face paled.

“Do you think I would harm you, Fatima?”

“I don’t know what you’ll do.” She gave him a furtive glance. “But I won’t let you hurt me.”

His heart soared in esteem. Pride suited her well. He wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Though it seems hard to believe, we’ve been wed for eight years this month.” At her sigh, he continued, “Yet, we still know so little of each other’s moods. You’re hardly the child I married, even if you still do childish things.”

He met her stare, just as a spasm of irritation rippled across her face. Her fingers clenched so tightly, he wondered that the nails did not draw blood.

Her mouth crimped in a determined line. “What do you mean by childish things?”

“You understand me well, I think. When you endanger yourself in intrigues and letters between you and an Ashqilula slave, you risk your safety and disregard the concerns of those who care for you. That is childishness.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She shrank away from him. “I thought my actions showed how much I care for and love my father.”

His hand covered hers. “He’s not the only person who cares for you.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you saying you care for me as well?”

“You are my wife.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“It’s the only answer I can give!”

She withdrew from his touch, her face drawn and pinched.

He sighed and raked his hands through his hair. “Tell me, as you told the Sultan this morning, how you learned about the defenses at Madinah Antaqirah. I expect full candor. Do you understand me?”

He waited for her to speak.

She looked away. “I know a slave in the house of the Ashqilula. Her name is Ulayyah. When Ibrahim tried to kidnap me as a child, she and the Jewish trader the Sitt al-Tujjar aided my return. Since then, Ulayyahhas sent me news of the Ashqilula’s treachery, whenever she can.”

He shook his head. “You were but eight years old when you escaped from Ibrahim. Yet you couldn’t allow your family to deal with the aftermath. Instead, you recruited a spy among his household. Don’t you see how you risked your own life?”

She wrung her hands. “I would do anything for my family. Isn’t that my duty as a princess of Gharnatah?”

He grasped her by the shoulders. Though she winced and pulled away, he jerked her toward him. “Your first duty is to your husband, to my interests. I knew you had your father’s pride, but this is beyond my expectations. You are my wife. I won’t let you come to harm.”

“You want a simpering wife who’ll do as she’s told?”

“I want a wife who considers the consequences of her actions before she undertakes them. What do you think the Ashqilula would do to you if they ever discovered your arrangement? Your father hasn’t weeded out all their spies. They can still attack us. How would your father react if you were hurt? Did you weigh his fears when you plotted with this slave? And, what of my feelings? Does my concern mean so little to you?”

He released her and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.

When she touched his arm, he shrugged her off, massaging his temples. “You haven’t finished.”

“When Sitt al-Tujjar travels between Gharnatah and the other cities of al-Andalus, she carries payments for Ulayyah to Naricha. She returns to Gharnatah with Ulayyah’s letters sewn between silk. I last received a letter from Ulayyah yesterday. The governor of Madinah Antaqirah has dispersed most of his household guards and half of the province’s guards to quell a rebellion against him at the town of Arsiduna. By Ulayyah’s account, he has left Madinah Antaqirah almost defenseless. This is all I know from her. I swear it by the blessed ninety-nine names of our God.”

 “Do you understand why your father is disturbed by your knowledge of his enemies’ doings?”

“I know he was very angry with me,” Fatima murmured. “I disobeyed him with my continued exchange of letters from Ulayyah. He thought our communication had ceased.”

“Fatima, I don’t believe the Sultan is angry with you. Your audacity shocks him. It frightens me. But his greater concern is for your well-being. Your involvement in these intrigues must stop.”

“What are you saying?”

“Can I speak more plainly? You must cease all contact with the slave Ulayyah. Your father’s wishes are clear, as are mine. You belong to me. It’s my duty to protect you from all mischief, including that of your own making. Heed my words and do as I ask.”

Fatima nodded, her eyes averted. Faraj raised her face for his inspection. A glimmer of rebelliousness shone in her gazeand in the thrust of her narrow chin.

He shook his head. “You intend to defy me and your father?You won’t stop?”

“You must try to understand.”

He stood and towered over her. “I’m your husband. I won’t accept your insolence!”

She sank to the ground and clutched his legs, her eyes brimming with tears. “Our family is very important to me. I cannot do what you ask if I can somehow prevent the destruction of my family, even if I risk Father’s censure…and your wrath.”

Exasperated, he grasped her shoulders and brought her to her feet. “You risk more than my wrath and your father’s censure.”

“Tell me,what would you do if you had the knowledge to help rid Gharnatah of its enemies? Wouldn’t you do the same as me?”

“You’re the daughter of the Sultan, a mere female.”

“A mere female? How dare you?But for the endurance of some ‘mere female’ as you say, neither you nor my father would exist. You think because I’m a princess, I should feel less loyalty to my family than you? I cannot accept such an argument.”

“You cannot ask me to condone your actions, to accept the risks you undertake. I’m going with your father to Madinah Antaqirah. When I return, we’ll talk again. I hope by then you’ll have stopped this childish behavior. I won’t let you continue this way.”

Tears spilled from her eyes. She settled on the bench with soft sobs. He longed to soothe her, but clenched his fists at his sides. She had to understand the seriousness of her actions.

He bowed stiffly in farewell. Then Fatima clutched at his hand and kissed the skin. Her tears tracked across his hand. Tears, which he knew now, would always rend his heart.

“If I disobey you?”

Her faltering voice quivered with so many emotions thathe renewed his struggle not to enfold her in his arms and never leave her side.

“Then you go against the clear wishes of your father and my own. If you defy me, I’ll end your lessons with the royal tutor. I’ll ask the Sultan to keep you confined to your rooms. All your correspondence shall cease to be private.”

She shrank away from him, but he grasped her hand.

“I care for you, perhaps more than I first believed possible when we wed. Don’t force my hand in this, I beg you. When I return from Madinah Antaqirah, I pray you’ll have made the right choice. Until then, may the peace of God be with you.”

The next day, Faraj departed for Madinah Antaqirah at the side of Muhammad II, along with the Sultan’s brothers and others of his retinue. They traveled southwest in the wake of the commanders who led the Andalusi army and the Maghribi and Castillan mercenaries.

The Sultan slowed his horse to a canter beside Faraj. “You’ve spoken with my daughter?”

Faraj stiffened. Had the Sultanguessed he had been thinking of Fatima since midmorning when they rode out? How had she managed to beguile him, so that he would do anything to keep her from harm? It was dangerous to care so much for the Sultan’s daughter, but he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

“We talked yesterday.”

“She’s very spirited like her mother. Indeed, she is even more like Aisha than I knew. You know she shall defy both of us in this?”

Faraj clamped his jaw tight. “I’m aware of the possibility.”

“I won’t allow it. Neither can you.”

“I’m also aware of that.”

“Then, what shall you do when she defies us both?”

He scrutinized his father in-law’s features for clues as to the Sultan’s thoughts. “You’re deferring her punishment to me?”

“You’re her husband.” The Sultan’s hooded eyes and guarded smile belied his smooth reply.

Faraj wondered if he merely didn’t want to deal with his daughter’s resentment. Despite chiding himself for such base thoughts, he recalled that this wouldn’t be the first time aSultan rejected responsibility for his own actions. If the father of Muhammad II had not conspired against the Ashqilula, they would never have tried to kidnap Fatima. She might have never encountered the slave Ulayyah or startedher dangerous correspondence.