The Stone Lions

by Gwen Dandridge

  With Lady Anna and the ginger-haired boy’s hasty departure, conversation lagged. Neither group seemed to know what to say to the other—an uncomfortable silence filled the room. The other two younger boys cleaned their plates with nary a peep.

  Before the last course was served, a grim-faced Lady Anna reappeared with the sullen boy. She shot him a warning glance as he jerked his arm away and sat beside his mother.

  “The child feels better?” Zoriah questioned delicately.

  Ara translated.

  “Oh, yes, his stomach is better, much better, thank you,” Lady Anna replied, her smile forced.

  Servants cleared the banquet foods, and others appeared with mint tea and dessert. Zoriah motioned Layla and Ara over.

  “This would be a good time for entertainment. Ara, get your lute, please, and Layla will dance.”

  Ara explained to their guests that Layla would entertain them with a traditional dance, and sat down to tune her lute.

  The women arranged themselves in a semicircle along the sides of the room. The boys clustered together and talked quietly among themselves.

  Once Layla was ready, Ara started playing the music of her people. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned wild windblown lands stretching forever toward a night sky that capped them like an upside-down bowl. Stars sparkled like fistfuls of diamonds thrown up into the sky. Dark blue mountains loomed in the distance. A herd of camels huddled together against the cold of the dark desert evening. She heard a camel call that dissolved into the ginger haired boy’s snort.

  He pointed at Layla and snorted again with laughter. She looked up to see if any adults noticed. Didn’t look like it. Zoriah and Maryam smiled at Layla as she danced. Rabab’s eyes were closed and her mouth gaped slightly. Asleep again. Lady Anna gently tapped her knee in time to the music. Christ’s wives and other ladies watched with polite but uncomfortable expressions on their faces. Ara ducked her head and continued playing, fiercely concentrating on her music.

  She heard the boy’s snort once again and almost lost a beat. He whispered loudly to the golden-haired boys, “Look at the way she wiggles.”

  Ara gritted her teeth and kept playing. Her grip on the lute neck tightened as thoughts of throttling one ginger-haired infidel tumbled about her mind. Father would be at war, the Alhambra would be lost—all because she attacked a pudgy boy. Allah would understand.

  In her fury, Ara missed the white-robed figure who stood quietly observing at the entryway.

  She snuck an angry look at the boy and was startled to see he had a slingshot pulled taut and pointed at Layla. She dropped her lute and shouted, “No.” Too late, she knew. The slingshot snapped and ricocheted back. The boy was hit smack in his mouth. He screamed and several adults leaped to his aid. Lady Anna walked over with a grim look and picked up the broken slingshot, displaying it to the mother trying to calm her howling boy. The other Christians were distressed and then angry as they deciphered the situation. One of Christ’s wives started fingering the beads in her rosary.

  Maryam stood protectively by her daughter. Zoriah seemed unsure quite how to react. Rabab was now awake and confused. And Allah’s blessing upon them, Tahirah stood in the doorway, calmly surveying the scene.

  Lady Anna spoke first, trembling in rage. “The boy will be punished, I assure you.”

  Tahirah gazed at the boy’s bloodied nose and lip, before saying in her perfect Castilian Spanish, “I believe Justice has already been provided.”

  Chapter 19

  Later that evening, Layla and Ara joined Tahirah walking through the torch-lit halls. Their long shadows moved with them across the walls.

  “We’re glad you are back,” Layla said, her face still a bit pale.

  “Where were you?” Ara asked at the same time.

  Tahirah reached out and took their hands. “It has been quite the experience for all of us.” She gave their hands a squeeze before releasing them. “I dreaded leaving you two, but I received an urgent message from an old friend, a woman from Lindejarras in the mountains. I left immediately, taking only my guards and two of my most trusted women.” Ara leaned forward. “When I arrived, she spoke of a plot to overthrow the Alhambra.”

  Both girls gasped.

  “My friend’s brother travels in a caravan across Andalusia. She told me that two months ago, three knights from Seville joined their caravan. Late that night, he heard them arguing. They were disagreeing about a Muslim wazir in the service of the Castilian king. This wazir was supposed to have magic, they said, that could strip the palace of its defenses so that the Alhambra would drop into their hands like a ripe fig.

  “Two of these men didn’t trust the wazir or his magic, and wanted to take the matters into their own hands, but the other man persuaded them to let the ‘Moor undo the Alhambra magic,’ then kill him. My friend’s brother wanted to warn the sultan, but he was afraid.”

  “Why would the wazir do this?” Layla asked.

  “According to the knights, the wazir has been promised the Alhambra for his own if Granada falls to the Infidels.”

  “I don’t understand, how could the Alhambra be made defenseless? We have guards and soldiers,” Ara persisted.

  Tahirah reached out to stroke Ara’s hair. She spoke gently. “The Alhambra is protected by people, it is true, but you know that the secret of its strength is in the magic built into its walls by the original Moors and Saracens. They placed the magic in the artwork, the symmetry on the walls themselves, and that protects the palace from invaders. With the magic intact, these fortress walls cannot be breached, the gates are impenetrable, and the towers themselves will resonate like thunder. Lightning bolts would shoot any hostile army that dared to trespass.”

  “That’s what Father was talking about,” Ara said, placing a hand on the walls as if she could hold it together by herself. “He said that the Alhambra protects its own.”

  Tahirah looked solemn. “If all the symmetries broke, the magic would be undone, and the Alhambra would be like any other palace. No number of warriors and guards could defend it from superior forces.

  “The symmetries hold, in spite of the fault line of evil spreading through the walls and weakening its magic. But if we are unsuccessful, the damage will continue and eventually the fortress will fall.”

  “And the lions—what do they do?” Ara asked. “You said that they are magic.”

  “The lions were set in place by three very powerful mathemagicians hundreds of years ago. Each lion was named for a quality that would protect the Alhambra. Their anger would be terrible and inescapable for any who endangers the Red Palace. Their continued silence concerns me, and I must assume the worst. The wazir has placed a spell on them. When you broke that first binding on Suleiman, some of the evil was dispelled, and perhaps some of the lions' strength has been restored as well.”

  Ara’s eyes widened with urgency. “Tahirah, we saw a lion’s footprint on the ground this morning.”

  “The wazir saw it too.” Layla interrupted, her words tumbling over one another in her hurry to get them out. “He was going to ask us about Suleiman, but he left in a rush when he saw the lion’s print.”

  Tahirah weighed this information before speaking. “The wazir must be very frightened. His control of the lions has slipped, and his magic is unraveling.” She frowned and pressed her fingers to her mouth. “We must be cautious. He must not guess you two are responsible for his magic weakening.”

  She resumed walking. “If we only had some written proof, we could go to your father. As it is, it would be my word against his, and this is a very serious accusation. Islamic law requires the voice of two women for every man.” Her voice cracked. “I would not accuse the wazir of treason with no more than hearsay.”

  She remained quiet for some moments, then said, “As I watched the moon change each night, I thought of you two. This morning it was just past a quarter full. What have you accomplished while I was gone?”

  The girls looked at each other, then at th
eir hands. Ara whispered, “We have yet to find a broken horizontal symmetry, and we must by tomorrow.” She sent an anxious glance toward Layla.

  Tahirah nodded and was silent. She closed her eyes and for a many breaths she seemed to be meditating.

  Her eyes snapped open and she said, “Tomorrow is a busy day. You are translating for the visitors, are you not?”

  Both girls nodded yes.

  “Then I bid you goodnight. But remember, fear is not our friend, and we will not feed him. I shall spend this evening in solitude and prayer, but perhaps I can help before I go. As I entered the Alhambra tonight, I saw the wazir alone in a room off the Gilded Court. Did you check near there?”

  “We’ll go now,” Ara said, pulling Layla along with her. “Quickly, before bedtime.”

  “Good night, daughters of my heart,” Tahirah called after them, but only the walls heard her speak.

  The girls ran through the palace, stopping only to nod politely to others of the harem as they passed. Guards stood at various corners, untouched by the apparent enthusiasms of the youngsters. Children had been running through the halls of the Alhambra long before these two were born.

  As they were about to round the last corner, Ara pointed to a row of tiles surrounding the doorway. “I think...No, there’s a piece that changes the symmetry, an extra shape in the top half that is not in the bottom, not a symmetry, but not broken. Oh, bother,” she muttered under her breath, glancing around at other tiles. She had to find the symmetry. What would happen to her father and all her family and friends if she did not? The sound of strange male voices raised in anger came from around the corner. The girls looked at each other in surprise. Who could be in the Gilded Court this late at night?

  “What do you mean the palace is healing itself?” a voice barked. “You told me it was all under control. Can’t do your simple math magics?” The speaker laughed at his own joke.

  “Keep your voice down,” the wazir said. “Do you want everyone to hear? The sultan is already suspicious. He questions me closely about my relations with you of Castile.

  “The symmetries are healing, and the lions are casting off the sleep spell I placed on them. Someone is working against me. That eunuch, Suleiman, I’m sure. Somehow, even in his reptilian form, he’s doing mathemagics.”

  More laughter. “A lizard doing math,” the voice sneered. “What’s he doing, trigonometry?”

  Ara could hear the intake of the wazir’s breath.

  The man continued, seemingly unaware of the wazir’s anger. “What about that woman, the Sufi?”

  The wazir laughed and whispered in his harsh voice, “A woman, an old woman. Sufis spend their lives thinking great thoughts. Tahirah’s weak. She wouldn’t even notice the changes, much less be able to fix them. It must be the eunuch. He was sniffing around my magic. I should have killed him.”

  “We’re not interested in your bizarre excuses,” the other man went on. “If we don’t see progress, and soon, you may not be as valuable to the King of Castile as you think.”

  “Keep your voice down, I tell you,” the wazir repeated. “You want the whole palace up in arms? I said I would hand you the key to the Alhambra, and I shall. Look here, see the pattern? Watch as I break it.”

  Ara and Layla held tightly to each other. Ara felt a gut-wrenching pull as the wazir’s magic tugged at the Alhambra.

  “See, another symmetry broken. My magic doesn’t fail me. You infidels are so easily discouraged. I grow stronger and persevere. Don’t underestimate me, knight,” the wazir said, gathering back his confidence.

  “Islamic boor. I should kill you now and be done with it,” the Christian growled.

  “Fool, I have more power in my little finger than you and that Spanish stick you call a sword can muster.” A pop sounded and smoke drifted around the corner. “Take this to your lord as a reminder, never threaten a mathemagician.”

  “My feet!” The words were a wail. “Ay Dios mio! I have hooves like a donkey,” the knight shrieked. “What evil have you done? I’ll kill you for this.” Ara heard a clip clopping that echoed in the room.

  “Not if you ever wish to be whole again.” The wazir laughed. “Return to your people. Let them know who is powerful here.”

  Ara reached trembling fingers to Layla and yanked, motioning her to retreat back down the hallway. Silently, they crept, holding their breath, afraid that at any moment the wazir would come striding down the hall. When they were far enough away, they bolted for their room.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Ara woke with a start. She had slept uneasily, dreaming of being chased by a Christian-garbed donkey with an evil grin.

  Layla still slept, a wary look flittering across her face. As usual, Su’ah was awake and puttering about, building up the fire and laying out their clothes. Ara rolled out of bed.

  “Up early, are you?” Su’ah asked. “You must have had quite the fright. I heard about that horrible boy. Why would anyone want to hurt Layla? The servants overheard the commotion in the guest quarters last night. His father was most displeased. That child won’t be sitting down for some time.” She leaned out of the window to shake dust from a carpet. In the distance, a rooster crowed.

  “Su’ah, would you mind walking with me this morning? I need to go down to the Gilded Hall, and I don’t wish to go by myself,” Ara asked, nervous about a chance confrontation with the wazir.

  “Now?”

  “I need to find something. It won’t take long. It’s important, and I really am a bit afraid to go alone,” she insisted.

  Su’ah sighed and looked around at all the work still to be done. With a small shake of her head, she conceded, “Of course, child. I understand. If my aged company would give you comfort, I would be pleased to go. There are too many strangers wandering these halls. And that undisciplined boy. He wouldn’t have behaved like that had he been in my charge,” she continued with an emphatic nod of her head. “I know how to raise a well-mannered child.”

  Together, they walked down the stairs and through the Court of the Myrtles before heading into the Gilded Court.

  “My, my, someone brought an animal in here.” Su’ah frowned at the hoof prints. “Look at that floor. Hoof prints all over. Zoriah won’t be pleased that livestock was brought into the hall. I had better call a servant to mop this up.”

  She stopped a passing slave-girl and spoke to her, pointing at the offending scuffmarks. Ara scooted past a large urn and into a small alcove.

  “Ara, where are you?”

  “Over here,” she called out as she peered through an arched doorway. She searched the walls from top to bottom. Only a single sad twisted tile remained from the wazir’s magic, but not a horizontal symmetry.

  “Soon all will be well,” she whispered, touching it gently. She turned toward Su’ah. “I’m ready to go.”

  “What were you looking for? Did you tell me before? My mind isn’t as sharp as it once was,” Su’ah lamented, shaking her head.

  “I thought I left a lute string in here last week, but I don’t see it.” Ara felt uncomfortable at deceiving her, but she knew how Su’ah liked to talk. If word got back to the wazir that she searched for symmetries, broken symmetries…she cringed at the thought.

  “Child, you’d lose your hand if it weren’t attached. Let’s go back. I’m sure we can find another lute string. I have to get you and Layla off to the baths, dressed and ready for the day’s meeting with those foreigners.”

  Su’ah frowned. “Now, you remember, if that boy even looks at you oddly, you come tell your old Su’ah, and I’ll deal with him myself.” She puffed herself up like a hen preparing to defend her chicks.

  Ara smiled, thinking about Su’ah and the ginger-haired boy. She would wager on Su’ah every time, though wagering was forbidden. She slowed her pace to match her elder's as they walked back up to their sleeping quarters. “Must we join them this morning?” she asked. “Even after what happened with Layla?”

  “I wasn’t
told either way, but you must be ready and willing if your father deems it so. He is the sultan. His word is law.”

  Layla was awake and dressed by the time they returned, curious where they had gone so early in the morning. Her eyes widened at Ara when Su’ah told her where they had been.

  “Did you find what you were seeking?” she asked.

  Ara shook her head. “I didn’t see the lute string.”

  Su’ah began grumbling again. “Hoof prints in the courtyard! Some hooligan brought a horse or donkey into the Gilded Court. I hope no one saw this and thinks we live like that. Maybe the Infidels let livestock into their homes, but not in this palace!” She hesitated at the door. “You girls head off to the baths, and don’t dawdle now.”

  Layla finished putting on her sandals before saying. “Ara, today’s our last day to find the horizontal symmetry, right?”

  “Yes, but we’ll find it,” Ara said, to reassure Layla—and herself.

  “That’s not what I was thinking about.” Layla paused. “What will Suleiman change into the next time?”

  Confused at her cousin’s line of thought, Ara shrugged. “I don’t know, another animal of some sort.”

  “Yes, but we have him in my embroidery basket. What if he turns into an elephant and runs trumpeting through the palace. Or a bee and wanders off into the gardens or worse, a fish? There are many things he could turn into and disappear or die. We might never find him.”

  Ara looked at Layla in dawning horror. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Both girls sat on the floor and frowned.

  “Well, we’d better keep the basket close to us and try not to find this broken symmetry when other people are around, just in case,” Ara agreed, trying to think where she could hide an elephant.

  “Let’s go bathe and get dressed. Maybe we’ll be lucky, and he'll change into something small, cute and cuddly.” Layla said. She checked on the still-sleeping Suleiman before taking up his basket. They gathered the rest of their things and walked down to the baths.