Sultana by Lisa J. Yarde Page A

al-Andalus as a girl and could not recall her birthplace with any clear memory or affinity.”
    “Did you tell him how his master would do well to support us? In thirty-five years of your reign, you’ve made Gharnatah a haven for those who live under Islamic rule. Did you explain how civil war would destroy his mother’s birthplace?”
    “He knows this, too.”
    “Did you speak of the Castillans? Did you say that if Gharnatah should ever fall to the Castillans, nothing shall stop them from conquering other Moorish lands? Gharnatah alone stands between Castillan ambitions and the subjugation of Islam. Did you say none of this?”
    The Sultan set down the water pipe and glared at his son. “Would you like to try with him? You might have better luck.”
    The Crown Princestammered. “I could never match your skill in diplomacy. You’re my teacher, Father.”
    Despite his son’s contrition, the Sultan continued to frown. Then the heir mumbled, “At least my sister Maryam won’t be bartered away.”
    “Then perhaps you should take her into your harem and let her drain your treasury, like she’s done with mine.”
    “We have gambled and lost,” the Sultan’s third son, Prince Nasr, interjected. “If the Marinids cannot help us neutralize our enemies, what canyou do, noble father?”
    The Sultan smiled. “Now, we deal with the Castillans.”
    Expressions of confusion and concern greeted him. As usual, the Crown Princevoiced his opinion first. “But, the Castillans are allied with the Ashqilula.”
    “For now, it would seem to be the way of things.” His father stroked his hennaed beard.
    “I don’t understand. Were your reports wrong?”
    The Sultan gestured to Faraj. “Perhaps my nephew can explain.”
    Expectant eyes turned to him. Farajsaid, “The Marinids would have been powerful allies and could have helped us end the Ashqilula revolt. But they’re across the sea, while Castilla-Leon is at our back. We can’t afford for the Castillans to aid the Ashqilula in a civil war.”
    The Sultan added, “After the wedding, whenI discussedFaraj’s marriage to my granddaughter with him, he reminded me ofthe Castillan threat. They concerned me, too. At my behest, Faraj wrote to the Castillan King. I have promised to renew the tribute paid under the old Castillan King’s regime. The new one is greedy like his father. He’ll take the money, but I’ll hold him to renouncing the alliance with the Ashqilula. One way, by fair means or foul, I shall be rid of them. Now, we journey to Castilla-Leon.”
     
    Al-Qal’at ibn Zaide, al-Andalus: Ramadan 664 AH (Alcala Real, Kingdom of Castilla-Leon: June AD 1266)
     
    One week later, the Sultan’s entourage, including Faraj, journeyed to the Castillan city of Alcala Real, where the Sultan would meet with King Alfonso the Wise.
    The rugged terrain offered opportunities for bandits. The men traveled under a heavy retinue of guards. They neared the city once known as al-Qal’at ibn Zaide, famous for its healing mineral springs. Then a dust cloud billowed on the horizon. Heavy hooves pounded the earth.
    The Sultan ordered the halt. Faraj shielded his eyes with his hands.
    “A portion of royal guard, my Sultan, with your messenger and his horse in their midst.”
    The Sultan nodded. “Is our messenger still alive atop his horse?”
    Faraj squinted. “He appears unharmed.”
    The Sultan rubbed his hands together. “This bodes well for our meeting.”
    One man led the Castillan riders. Without a proper greeting, he addressed the Sultan in coarse Latin. The Sultan smiled, but the Crown Prince’s hand went to the short dagger at his side.
    “Noble father, this son of a dog must not be allowed to speak to you in this manner!”
    The Sultan shrugged. “What would you have me do? This isn’t the Sultanate. I can’t just cut his head off.”
    He gestured to Faraj. “Address this Castillan dog and remind him that we are here at the invitation of his master Alfonso. My Latin