The Galician Woman

by William Mesusan

  "We're leaving in the morning," explained the investigator as he stood and walked to the head of the table. " Lia and Roi will be returning with us to Córdoba as our prisoners. Sabela is free to remain behind, or to join us if she wishes. You may also join us, Vitor. And, don't bother translating. I know Lia hears what I say. She can explain to her brother."

  Solomon searched her eyes as Roi absorbed the information from his older sister.

  "I've changed my mind," announced Vitor as he folded his hands and placed them on the table. "I'm staying behind to help with the farm and to offer Sabela my protection. We knew this betrayal was coming. I told Sabela as much when you were interrogating Lia outside."

  "Don't you think interrogation is a rather harsh way of describing my asking questions?"

  Vitor ignored him. "The thought of traveling to Andalusia scares Sabela to death. When the family stayed in Santiago de Compostela, during Eastertime, they heard rumors spread by the Bishop and his followers about the evils of the south."

  "So, you've discussed this?"

  "I told you," Vitor reminded him. "When you were outside questioning Lia."

  "I see. . ."

  "Is it so difficult to see where my loyalties lie?" Vitor wondered aloud. "We'll remain here. Somebody has to take care of the farm until they return."

  "What do Lia and Roi think about this?"

  Solomon looked down the table but his eyes met with impassive expressions.

  "As I told you, Galician women are very independent. Sabela is free to decide for herself in these matters."

  Solomon began to feel impatient, disturbed by Vitor's sudden defiance. He suspected the youth was attempting to redeem himself for cooperating with strangers who now threatened the well-being of this Galician family's existence. He wondered if the ex-priest had thought through the implications of his actions.

  "What if her sister and brother can't return?"

  "She didn't do it," Vitor insisted with a new found passion in his voice. "You can't possibly believe Lia is a murderess?"

  "I have my doubts, but I'm charged with taking her back to Andalusia for a fair but thorough inquiry," Solomon made his intentions clear. "Time we all try to get some sleep."

  The ex-cleric bit his lip and held his tongue. The women left the table with a flickering candle and retired upstairs to their bedroom. Roi's wrists were rebound with rope before he was marched upstairs by Jalal. Vitor followed with Solomon trailing behind.

  Four men and a single bed, Roi's bed. But all was not lost. The Andalusi's had the forethought to bring their bedrolls upstairs and Sabela had produced a couple of blankets for her inamorata. Before taking the first watch, Jalal asked Solomon to join him in the hallway so he could share his doubts.

  "Do you believe this woman and man are brother and sister?"

  "I suppose I do," the investigator replied. "Vitor would have told us if they weren't."

  "Are you sure? What if the man is an imposter? How do we know Vitor isn't siding with these Galicians to plot against us? I'm just saying maybe you shouldn't be so trusting, Solomon. I know you like them, but don't get attached."

  "To be honest, I'm tempted not to take them back with us," Solomon admitted.

  "Are you serious?"

  "I don't believe she murdered Umar, and I certainly don't imagine Lia is part of a plot to reconquer Andalusia. She's all about saving her family's farm and I've learned the Bishop has designs on it. If we take her back to Andalusia we're giving Sisnand a wonderful chance to cheat the family out of this land and also give him an opportunity to champion Lia as a martyr for his cause. Don't think the old Warlord won't make use of her in this capacity during her absence. For a while I doubted it, but now I'm not so sure. We'll be doing him a big favor. He suspected we'd find her with or without Vitor's help. He's been counting on it."

  "Listen to me, Solomon," the mercenary pleaded. "We've got to take them back and deliver them to the Foreign Minister. We're expected to uphold our mission without questioning the wisdom behind it. If they don't return with us that makes us traitors and we both know the penalty we face if the truth ever came to light."

  Spoken like a true soldier,

  "I'll think about what you've told me, Jalal."

  As soon as he said it, Solomon dismissed these thoughts from his mind.

  Jalal carried his bedroll out to the landing where he set up for the first watch. This way he could keep an eye on both bedrooms. He didn't trust the women any more than he trusted Roi or Vitor. He wasn't even sure he trusted Solomon anymore.

  Solomon lay covered up on the wood plank floor waiting for sleep to come.

  He thought about Lia and how she could have created a comfortable life for herself in Córdoba. But her family and the farm they had toiled so hard to preserve and the land itself--cold, misty, melancholy Galicia-- meant more to her than her own well-being.

  "Find her and bring her back so that justice may be served." We found her cousin Hasdai. And we found her brother or maybe he's her lover. We don't know for sure. We'll bring them both back. We'll bring the Galician woman all the way back to Córdoba even though we don't know if she's guilty. In truth, we believe she is innocent of the crime. Will you give her a fair trial. You've promised as much, Mr. Foreign Minister.

  God help us if we don't.

  We'll lose our souls in the bargain.

  Chapter 28

  Two restless mares and a Balearic mule stood packed. Everybody gathered outside the

  farmhouse, Sabela uttering tearful goodbyes to an older sister and brother whose hands were once again bound with rope. Solomon hated this aspect of his mission. At the same time, he believed the precautions were necessary. He didn't understand the Galician banter, but it was natural for him to assume Lia was giving final instructions to Sabela and Vitor because the ex-priest nodded his approval whenever she spoke.

  The investigator took his mercenary escort with him as they led the animals a safe distance away, close enough to take quick action if necessary, but far enough away to allow privacy. Lia and Roi appeared resigned to their fate so Solomon didn't believe they would attempt to escape.

  The cold, grey morning found him feeling oppressed by the absence of sunlight and once again yearning for the warmth of the Andalusian sun. He could only imagine what the winters must be like. The Finnesterre might have been a preview. His reveries were cut short by his companion.

  "I'm not sure we'll exit Santiago in one piece," Jalal said, voicing his misgivings.

  "We're not traveling in that direction."

  "What?"

  "The Foreign Minister has arranged for a ship to meet us down the coast at the harbor town of Fistera," Solomon informed the surprised soldier. "From there we'll sail to Lisbon, Cádiz, up the Guadalquivir to Seville, and then home to Córdoba. This route offers a safer journey and will take less time. We'll sort out this mystery when we get back. I fear there are no answers for us here."

  "Why didn't the Foreign Minister send us here by ship in the first place?"

  "I believe he thought we might overtake them on the road."

  Solomon sensed Jalal's hurt feelings, knowing him well enough by now to understand his bitter disappointment at not hearing of the plan in advance.

  "I would've told you about the galley, but I've been so preoccupied it slipped my mind."

  Solomon feared his excuse rang hollow.

  "What about the horses and the mule?" Jalal asked, taking the snub in stride.

  "The galley is a horse transport so we can take them with us."

  "Good, I'm growing rather fond of the mule."

  "Time we depart," Solomon said.

  The two men returned to the others and the investigator asked Vitor to relay instructions to Roi. After they'd helped the stout, hands-bound farmer mount the mule, Solomon assisted Lia up behind her brother. The mares would bear the burden of what little supplies they had left.

  As the foursome rode away from the farmhouse, Solomon turned around for
one final look. Sabela and Vitor had retreated inside. Smoke spiraled up from the chimney while chickens scratched for food in the farmyard and the dairy cow waited to be milked. The investigator knew he'd never set foot on this land again. A part of him experienced sadness. Another part was glad to be returning to Córdoba and the world he loved.

  Turning back around, he caught a glimpse of the Galician woman.

  Her fortitude had deserted her and Solomon found tears streaming down the sides of her face. His heart ached with compassion. Although he had succeeded in his mission, he had strong misgivings and a deep apprehension about the possible consequences of returning Lia and Roi to al-Zahra.

  "Find her and bring her back so that justice may be served."

  Solomon almost wished he hadn't.

  They rode south through a forest hugging the coastline of an inland sea, a bay reaching all the way north to the harbor town of Cee. Ten miles to the west, separated by a rugged peninsula, lay the Mare Tenebrosu," the dark sea," The sky overhead was laden with grey clouds but no rain fell upon them. Solomon longed for sunlight.

  "How did the Foreign Minister calculate our timing?" asked an inquisitive Jalal.

  "I'm not sure," Solomon answered. "I imagine the galley has been waiting for us for days, if not weeks."

  They reconnected with the road from Santiago de Compestela, the one leading to the Finnesterre, the end of the earth. They had journeyed there, experienced its magic, and now they were going home. The investigator allowed Jalal to take the lead while he brought up the rear behind the two somber looking Galicians.

  Jalal kept a brisk pace, pleased at knowing they had succeeded in their mission despite all his misgivings about Solomon and the way the investigator had approached their challenge, the constant delays, and his seeming reluctance to return their prisoners to al-Zahra. He had a sneaking suspicion his efforts would be recognized if not rewarded at the highest levels.

  Finister, much like the town of Cee, harbored a fishing village that also lived upon the revenue generated by pilgrims making their way south in search of the end of the earth and its cherished seashells. Solomon searched the town for the appointed meeting place. It wasn't long before they found themselves outside a tavern with yet another seashell banner waving in the afternoon breeze.

  Solomon left Jalal outside to guard the two Galicians sitting with their hands bound with rope. Inside he found the Captain of the transport, a barrel-chested Arab with a thick grey beard. He sat at a table playing cards with a few of his crew. He turned when he saw Solomon and his face brightened upon seeing Hasdai's signet ring. He suggested to his men that they might want to leave him and go regale themselves with more drink. They understood his subtle command and left the table to their Captain and the newcomer.

  Solomon sat down across the table from the Captain.

  "Have you been waiting long,"

  "That's of little consequence," replied the Captain. "I'm under strict orders."

  "How shall we proceed?" Solomon asked, submitting to the mariner's judgement.

  "We'll stay the night and leave first thing in the morning," the captain announced. "You'll meet us at a sandy beach just north of here where my men can put down our ramp so you can load your animals. How many do you have?"

  "Three," replied Solomon failing to mention one of them was a mule. "What about our prisoners?"

  "They'll be safe with me."

  "I'm sure they will be," agreed Solomon.

  Everybody's working for the Caliphate and everybody's working for themselves, thought the investigator. The captain probably thinks there'll be significant remuneration for himself if he delivers us successfully to the docks in Córdoba. Didn't he think something similar about his own prospects at the very beginnings of the mission. Only now he didn't care so much about himself and his hopes for reward. He kept having this gnawing doubt he might not be doing the right thing in returning Lia and Roi to face justice in al-Zahra. He wondered if perhaps he should have left them behind.

  Solomon’s route would take him south along the coast to Lisbon where they would disembark to spend the night and resupply the galley. The city had surrendered to an Umayyad army without a fight in 718, and the strategic port now gave Rahman III control of the coastal Atlantic waters.

  From Lisbon the investigator's nautical journey would take him to Cádiz, the oldest city in Europe. Founded by the Phoenicians in 1100 BCE, the port was an important commercial center trading in Baltic amber, British tin, and Spanish silver. After that they would sail up the Guadalquiver to Seville and then home to to the freshwater port of Córdoba.

  But we're getting ahead of ourselves because Solomon and Jalal stood waiting, with their horses and the mule, on a stretch of sandy beach. Out in the waters of a calm bay the horse transport maneuvered into place and began to approach the shore. A door thirty feet long was lowered from the back of the vessel into shallow water and the two men smiled at one another. They were going home. The two men guided the horses out into the water and made their way towards the ramp.

  "Let's get a running start," shouted Jalal as he sprinted off with his horse and the mule trailing behind him.

  They ran the animals up the ramp to where sailors were waiting to take the reins. Both men, shoes and pants soaked by sea water, were breathing heavily from the exertion. Jalal's face widened into a smile. Soon both men stood on deck laughing out of sheer exuberance. There was a time when they doubted this precious moment would become a reality. Now they realized they were actually going home to Córdoba.

  After Solomon had regained his breath, he turned to find his Galician prisoners sitting on deck with their hands and feet tied with ropes and guarded by one of the sailors. The Captain ordered the ramp to be hauled back on board and gave the order for his oarsmen to prepare for departure.

  "How soon will we be home?"

  The barrel-chested Captain smiled: "That depends upon three things. We'll need to get some wind in our sails, we have to avoid sea monsters, and the Captain can't get drunk." The old seadog waited for the full effect of what he'd told them to sink in. When Solomon's eyes widened in disbelief he sprang his trap.

  "Hah! Hah!" bellowed the Captain. "You believed me? I was just playing with you. I only drink when I'm on land with the terra firma solidly underneath my feet"

  "You tricked us," laughed Jalal. "And to think that I almost believed you."

  The Captain gave the order and the oarsmen began a rhythmic motion, rowing the ship away from the shoreline, out towards the open sea. Solomon could only think about one thing. The bearded seafarer hadn't yet elaborated upon the need to avoid sea monsters. Was that also said in jest? He had heard stories of sea monsters as a child. At such an impressionable age his imagination had run wild. Now he found some of those frightening images floating before his mind's eye as his memory dredged them up from some forgotten, buried past.

  Chapter 29

  It seemed to Solomon that little had changed in al-Zahra during the time he had been away. The army still patrolled the streets, troop movements were evident everywhere, and the Tangerine still guarded the door outside the Foreign Minister's Office. Surprising, the investigator now felt a degree of confidence inside the corridors of power.

  "You've done well, Solomon," praised Hasdai. "I felt confident you would succeed in finding the Galician woman. You have a gift."

  Solomon was relieved to back in Córdoba, but he knew only half of his mission was completed. He'd found and brought back the elusive Galician woman, but he wasn't convinced she had murdered Umar. He still had a lot of questions about the circumstances surrounding the crime, but few answers.

  "I feel like I haven't yet finished my assignment."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I found Lia, but I'm not sure she murdered Umar."

  "You're serious?" asked the weary looking older cousin.

  "Quite. I need to interview all the suspects again." Solomon walked to the far window with its view of the old city. Hasdai
quietly joined him and draped an arm around his shoulder in a gesture of affection: "What can I do to help?"

  "I believe the Imam could convince Umar's widow and his brother to cooperate more fully in our investigation," Solomon told him. "Perhaps the Caliph could set up a meeting for me with the spiritual leader outside the Great Mosque."

  "I'll try to arrange it," Hasdai promised as he removed his arm.

  Solomon turned and went across the room to the chess set.

  The rock crystal and red marble figures had been organized for a new match.

  "Looks like the Caliph won that last contest."

  The Foreign Minister followed him over to the table as his mouth rearranged itself into a sly grin.

  "On the contrary. I observed the move I prevented you from making, and I decided to make use of the strategy it suggested. That turned the tide and I managed to turn an apparent defeat into a resounding victory. The Caliph is anxiously awaiting our rematch."

  Solomon could only muster a weak smile before making a beeline for the chair opposite the Foreign Minister's desk where he plopped down and exhaled a weary sigh. Hasdai followed his lead, pulling out his own chair and sitting down to continue the meeting.

  "What about the Galician woman's brother? Don't you think he might have murdered Umar to protect his sister?"

  "He certainly possess the strength to accost Umar single-handedly, but I don't picture Roi as a murderer. Then again, I could be mistaken. I'll need someone to translate Galician for me when I question him. I had a good translator in Galicia, a young priest who had been excommunicated by the Bishop of Santiago," Solomon declared. "It was probably a blessing for him. I don't think Vitor is cut out to be a clergyman."

  "You seem to have grown very close to these Galicians."

  "It's complicated, Solomon replied. "Maybe you can arrange for one of the Caliph's Galician concubines to translate for me?"

  "Yes, of course," Hasdai reassured him. "By the way, Ahmad has returned from Tangier. It doesn't appear there was any Fatimid involvement in an assassination attempt. Zanata intelligence predicts they'll attempt to use the navy as their chief weapon. They already control Mediterranean shipping lanes and believe they can undermine our economy to the point of creating massive discontent here in Andalusia."