to say something?’
‘If we had used our iron fists to deal with Christianity the way you treat us now, this situation might never have arisen.’
‘Spoken like the owl of Minerva. Instead you attempted to bring civilization to the whole peninsula regardless of faith or creed. It was noble of you and now you must pay the price. The war had to end sooner or later with the final victory of one side and the definitive defeat of the other. My advice to your family is to convert at once. If you do so I pledge that I will personally be present and will even drag Cisneros to your estates with me to bless you all. That would be the best protection I could afford your family and your village. Do not take offence, my friend. I may sound cynical, but in the end what is important is for you and yours to remain alive and in possession of the estates which have been in your family for so long. I know that the Bishop of Qurtuba has tried to persuade you as well, but ...’
Umar rose and saluted Don Inigo.
‘I appreciate your bluntness. You are a true friend. But I cannot accept what you say. My family is not prepared to swear allegiance to the Roman Church or any other. I thought about it many times, Don Inigo. I even considered murder. Do not be startled. I tried to kill our past, to exorcise memory once and for all, but they are stubborn creatures, they refuse to die. I have a feeling, Don Inigo, that if our roles had been reversed your answer would not have been so different.’
‘I am not so sure. Just look at me. I think I would have made a reasonably good Mahometan. How is your little Yazid? I was hoping you would bring him with you.’
‘It was not an appropriate time. Now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave. Peace be upon you, Don Inigo.’
‘Adios, Don Homer. For my part I would like our friendship to continue.’
Although Umar smiled, he said nothing as he left the chamber. His horse and his bodyguard were waiting outside the Jannat-al-Arif, the summer gardens where he had first encountered Zubayda, but Umar was in no mood for nostalgia. Mendoza’s crisp message still echoed in his ears. Not even the magical sound of water as he approached the gardens could distract him today. Till a few weeks ago he had thought of Gharnata as an occupied land which might be liberated once again at the right time. The Castilians had many enemies at home and abroad. The minute they were embroiled in another war, that would be the time to strike. Everything else must be subordinated to that goal. This is what Umar had told his Muslim fellow grandees at several gatherings since the surrender of the town.
The wall of fire had changed all that, and now the Captain-General had confirmed his worst thoughts. The worshippers of icons were not content with a simple military presence in Gharnata. It was naïve to have imagined that they would adhere to the agreements in the first place. They wanted to occupy minds, to pierce hearts, to remould souls. They would not rest till they had been successful.
Gharnata, once the safest haven for the followers of the Prophet in al-Andalus, had now become a dangerous furnace. ‘If we stay here,’ Umar spoke to himself, ‘we are finished.’ He was not simply thinking about the Banu Hudayl, but the fate of Islam in al-Andalus. His bodyguard, seeing him from a distance and surprised at the brevity of the interview, ran to the gate of the garden with his master’s sword and pistol. Still engrossed in his thoughts, Umar rode down to the stables, where he dismounted and then walked a few hundred yards to the familiar and comforting mansion of his cousin Hisham in the old quarter.
While his father had been at the al-Hamra, Zuhayr had spent the morning in the public bath with his friends. After cleansing themselves with steam, they were taken in hand by the bath attendants, thoroughly scrubbed with hard sponges, and washed with soap before entering the bath, where they were alone. Here they
‘If we had used our iron fists to deal with Christianity the way you treat us now, this situation might never have arisen.’
‘Spoken like the owl of Minerva. Instead you attempted to bring civilization to the whole peninsula regardless of faith or creed. It was noble of you and now you must pay the price. The war had to end sooner or later with the final victory of one side and the definitive defeat of the other. My advice to your family is to convert at once. If you do so I pledge that I will personally be present and will even drag Cisneros to your estates with me to bless you all. That would be the best protection I could afford your family and your village. Do not take offence, my friend. I may sound cynical, but in the end what is important is for you and yours to remain alive and in possession of the estates which have been in your family for so long. I know that the Bishop of Qurtuba has tried to persuade you as well, but ...’
Umar rose and saluted Don Inigo.
‘I appreciate your bluntness. You are a true friend. But I cannot accept what you say. My family is not prepared to swear allegiance to the Roman Church or any other. I thought about it many times, Don Inigo. I even considered murder. Do not be startled. I tried to kill our past, to exorcise memory once and for all, but they are stubborn creatures, they refuse to die. I have a feeling, Don Inigo, that if our roles had been reversed your answer would not have been so different.’
‘I am not so sure. Just look at me. I think I would have made a reasonably good Mahometan. How is your little Yazid? I was hoping you would bring him with you.’
‘It was not an appropriate time. Now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave. Peace be upon you, Don Inigo.’
‘Adios, Don Homer. For my part I would like our friendship to continue.’
Although Umar smiled, he said nothing as he left the chamber. His horse and his bodyguard were waiting outside the Jannat-al-Arif, the summer gardens where he had first encountered Zubayda, but Umar was in no mood for nostalgia. Mendoza’s crisp message still echoed in his ears. Not even the magical sound of water as he approached the gardens could distract him today. Till a few weeks ago he had thought of Gharnata as an occupied land which might be liberated once again at the right time. The Castilians had many enemies at home and abroad. The minute they were embroiled in another war, that would be the time to strike. Everything else must be subordinated to that goal. This is what Umar had told his Muslim fellow grandees at several gatherings since the surrender of the town.
The wall of fire had changed all that, and now the Captain-General had confirmed his worst thoughts. The worshippers of icons were not content with a simple military presence in Gharnata. It was naïve to have imagined that they would adhere to the agreements in the first place. They wanted to occupy minds, to pierce hearts, to remould souls. They would not rest till they had been successful.
Gharnata, once the safest haven for the followers of the Prophet in al-Andalus, had now become a dangerous furnace. ‘If we stay here,’ Umar spoke to himself, ‘we are finished.’ He was not simply thinking about the Banu Hudayl, but the fate of Islam in al-Andalus. His bodyguard, seeing him from a distance and surprised at the brevity of the interview, ran to the gate of the garden with his master’s sword and pistol. Still engrossed in his thoughts, Umar rode down to the stables, where he dismounted and then walked a few hundred yards to the familiar and comforting mansion of his cousin Hisham in the old quarter.
While his father had been at the al-Hamra, Zuhayr had spent the morning in the public bath with his friends. After cleansing themselves with steam, they were taken in hand by the bath attendants, thoroughly scrubbed with hard sponges, and washed with soap before entering the bath, where they were alone. Here they
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