"I believe so."
Hasdai sighed deeply. "I'll do what I can."
"Thank you, cousin."
"Did we really need this charade?" asked the Foreign Minister. "Bringing them all together like that."
"I believe it was necessary. I was trusting in my instincts. Not one of the suspects stood to benefit from Umar's death. Nuzha didn't care enough to bother about her husband. And as much as Hasan lusts after Nuzha, he loves his horses more. As for Roi, the apparent lack of a major struggle convinced me it was somebody whom Umar was at least somewhat familiar with. I couldn't conceive of Ahmad killing his lover in a moment of intense anger so the ring became irrelevant. The only evidence left was the strand of hair and it pointed to our Galician Woman. Lia's self-punishment in detention reinforced what I came to suspect. In the end, I believed it could only have been Lia. I couldn't prove it so I needed to get her to confess. "
What if she had stonewalled us and refused to admit to her crime?"
"I hoped I had read her heart correctly."
"You were a little harsh on Hasan."
"He has a grandiose sense of his own self-importance," Solomon explained. "Men like Hasan are a curse to the world no matter what their religion or ethnicity might be."
"The Caliph will be relieved to learn this was a crime of passion. He'll be reassured to know that the empire isn't facing an imminent attack by one of his many enemies."
"At least, not yet."
"I'm going to confide in you, and this stays between you and I. Rahman III is also gratified he won't have to execute his own nephew. Umar was a thug and that option had been under consideration for a long time. This Galician woman has inadvertently helped the Caliph dispose of an ungrateful scion to the royal lineage."
"Then a royal pardon and banishment are only fair."
"I'll send word to you when the Caliph has made his ruling."
Solomon realized he had been dismissed. He crossed the room, but paused at the threshold.
"I said some things before leaving for Galicia, and I feel I owe you an apology. I actually learned some things on my journey to the North."
"About the nature of the world?"
"Yes, I learned many things about the world, but about my own nature as well. I tend to be selfish and to think of my own needs first."
"I think you're selling yourself short, Solomon. I think you learned something deeper. Something much more important."
"What might that be?"
"You've had a glimpse into the nature of real knowledge. To love the light but not know of the darkness is naive. To love the light even when you've experienced the darkness is wisdom. I believe this holds true even in personal matters"
"I'll have to think about that?"
"This isn't something to intellectualize, cousin. It's a lesson you must learn to carry in your heart. The Caliph's gratitude is boundless," Hasdai continued as he adeptly changed the subject. "You're going to reap the benefits of his largess. I imagine you'll have the opportunity to give up translating and devote yourself full time to your poetry. I suspect you'll enjoy being independently wealthy."
Somehow, it didn't seem all that important.
"I would like to be with Lia and Roi when they depart on their journey back to their homeland. I feel I owe them one final goodbye."
"Of course, Solomon," Hasdai replied. "You've already assumed the Caliph will grant my request for leniency?"
"He always does."
Two massive triangular sails with broad, vertical red and white stripes of stitched linen, the same color scheme used for the horseshoe shaped arches inside Córdoba's Great Mosque, rose above the galley's planked and framed hull. Two oar banks were divided by the deck, with the first oar bank situated below while the second oar bank was positioned above deck. One hundred and twenty rowers were arranged, sixty on each side of the vessel, with twenty-five oarsmen beneath and thirty-five above the deck on each side.
Coptics, the Christian and indigenous people of Egypt and the direct descendants of the ancient Egyptians, provided the bulk of the crew for this Muslim vessel, as they did for entire fleet of Andalusia. No other mariners sailed the seas with such expertise.
Standing on the deck of the hundred foot long galley, Lia and Roi leaned over the railing to wave a final goodbye to a disheartened couple imitating their gesture from onshore. That couple, Solomon and Sara, stood on one of the numerous wharves lining the Guadalquivir River, south of the old capital.
Solomon had asked Lia's roommate to accompany him so that they could both offer moral support at the departure of the Galicians. They both understood that banishment from Andalusia was a blessing for Lia and Roi. On this occasion, they spoke of themselves and of their hopes and fears and they entered into the dream talk of bodies and minds engaged with one another.
They had said their goodbyes sometime earlier.
Sara had watched as Roi grasped Solomon's forearms in his beefy hands as a way of thanking this old adversary for arranging safe passage for himself and his sister. The behemoth followed this exchange with a tight bear hug. Saddened by the knowledge that, in all likelihood they would never see one another again, Sara and Lia had embraced with tears in their eyes.
They changed partners.
Solomon gazed one last time into sea-green orbs that drew him down into the depths of Lia's soul. The Galician woman surprised him with a kiss on the cheek while her younger brother released Sara from a tight squeeze with barely enough time for her to catch her breath.
This poignant scene had given way to practicality as the Captain of the Caliph's personal galley sniffed the winds and beckoned the Galicians on board. The morning had remained calm, but overhead billowy clouds were moving rapidly so the mariner expected the winds to gain strength as the day wore on.
The Captain wasn't the only sailor predisposed to act in accordance with the weather. Along the docks of the river, the crews of cargo carriers and horse-transport vessels unfurled their sails and made ready to embark upon the rippling waters flowing south to the freshwater seaport of Seville.
Caliph Rahman III had honored his Foreign Minister's request, made on Solomon's behalf, agreeing to banish the Galicians from Andalusia for the remainder of their lives. He had also arranged to make his galley available for the return trip to their homeland. In what at first appeared an extraordinary gesture of goodwill, there existed important political considerations. There remained a sullen, yet dangerous faction of Arab cronies still devoted to Umar; and, rival Fatimids always searched for opportunities to create unrest among the populace. A Christian woman killing Muslim Umar, even though it was an act of self-defense, might not sit well with many.
The galley, also called a runner, would take the Galicians far away from Andalusia and as quickly as possible. From Seville, they would sail the normally safe route: Cádiz, Lisbon, and Vigo. Once on shore, Lia and Roi would be left on their own. They were well-equipped thanks to generous funds offered unexpectedly by an anonymous benefactor. They had taken turns wondering who the donor might be. Bishop Racemundo, the Foreign Minister, or perhaps the Caliph himself.
Back onboard, oarsmen put their muscles to the task and the galley floated away from its moorings. The experienced Captain maneuvered the vessel out upon the Guadalquivir, changed his course to due south, and the vessel began gliding along with the downstream current. The Galicians soon disappeared from sight leaving Solomon alone with Sara.
"It was good of you to help them," Sara told Solomon.
"How did you guess it was me?"
"You're not the only one who possesses the gift of inner sight."
Solomon felt a laugh erupt from his belly. Of course, she also experienced inner sight. Maybe they both understood things without knowing how they knew them. Perhaps everybody possessed the gift. He wasn't sure. There were aspects of life he couldn't fathom.
"I've never known a Jew, Solomon," Sara admitted.
"You don't really know me," he said, before he caught h
imself wishing he hadn't spoken the words. He knew right away that it was a mistake. He hoped she wasn't offended by his comment and hadn't misinterpreted his words. But it was too late. He could see that she was embarrassed as her face reddened in response.
"I'm so, so sorry," she stammered.
"No, don't be. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean to sound patronizing," he apologized. "It's just that I'm a bit of a mystery even to myself."
Sara thought about this for a moment.
"I know that feeling all too well," she commiserated.
"Shall we go?"
They walked quietly and soon Sara took his hand into her own. He felt a surge of energy as the warmth from her hand infused his entire body. He knew that she felt the mysterious, upwelling current in her being as well.
Sara looked at him with a sense of wonder in her eyes, but found him looking straight ahead. She had to share her impression with him, let him know that the experience had spoken to her on a deeper level.
"I've never experienced anything like that before,” she confided.
"Neither have I."
They stopped and faced each other.
Solomon hesitated for a moment. Don't be a fool, he admonished himself. Don't wait. This chance may never come again. Risking embarrassment, he took Sara in his arms. Surprised by a moment of shared magnetism, they found themselves sliding deeper into relationship. Biologically deep like water and air, an attraction dwelling somewhere down inside of their bodies, beyond the conscious mind and its intentions where lies a wisdom as profound as bones and blood and marrow. Sara's willingness and her warmth and her enthusiasm made Solomon feel like what he had done was the most natural thing in the world.
"Will I ever see you again," asked Sara.
"I hope so."
"Soon?"
"Soon?" Solomon repeated. He took a moment to consider the question. "You will if my cousin the Foreign Minister doesn't give me a new assignment."
Sara brushed her fingers against his forearm.
She does that a lot, he observed, remembering the times he had already spent in her presence. Solomon could wait no longer. Overcome by desire, he drew Sara closer. Feeling no resistance he kissed her pliant lips ever so softly. He hoped that this moment would never end.
"What now?" she asked with an innocence in her voice.
"I'm not sure," he replied.
They were entering unchartered waters. Sure, Christians and Jews got along on the deceptive surface of life, as did their Muslim counterparts. But Sara and Solomon both knew that their developing relationship would be frowned upon by some in their own communities. Solomon was ready to disregard the social implications. This woman enchanted him, and she made his world a sweeter place.
They quietly withdrew from the warmth of their embrace.
They walked on, linked hand in hand.
In the early morning light, Solomon Levy experienced a deepening sense of contentment. Despite all he had recently endured, he’d attained a calm acceptance of his fate and a willingness to face the future whatever it might portend.
Invitation to Readers
Thank you for reading this novel. If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on your favorite book seller's website. This is the most generous act you can make to help a first-time author find new readers.
Reviews are hard to come by and give credibility to the book. They are greatly appreciated. If you aren't interested in posting a review, please consider leaving a rating.
Thank you, again.
--William Mesusan
Acknowledgments
I owe a debt of gratitude to María Rosa Menocal who introduced me to the world of Islamic Spain in her stimulating book The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews, and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in 10th Century Spain. It was in the pages of this fascinating account that I first encountered the amazing Hasdai ibn Shaprut.
I'm grateful to the following readers who reviewed portions of early drafts and provided helpful comments: Aaron Kaiserman, Kim Aiken, Cassidy Colwell, and Kevin Sparrow. I especially want to thank Visnja Murgic, Betsy Natter, and Bibianna Jiménez-Ramírez who read and critiqued the entire novel.
In Mexico, I'm indebted to editors Alejandro Gratten-Dominguez and Judy King for an opportunity to pursue and succeed at a lifelong dream. Judy published a dozen and a half articles of mine in her ezine, Living at Lake Chapala. Alex published seven Cover Stories in El Ojo del Lago, Mexico's most widely read English-language magazine (print and online editions).
Author Bio
William Mesusan lived and traveled in central Mexico where he pursued his dream of becoming a published writer. He wrote seven Cover Stories for El Ojo del Lago, Mexico's most widely read English-language magazine and a dozen and a half ezine articles.
Two trips to Spain, and research into the country's past, inspired a series of novels set in 10th Century Andalusia.
A native Californian, he currently lives in the American Southwest where he is an avid desert gardener. He also finds inspiration in travel and historical research.
His other interests include playing guitar and writing songs in a variety of styles (jazz, country, and an eclectic mix). His collaboration with Serbian vocalist Jovana can be heard free on Soundcloud.com using the playlist title Jovana's Mix.
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