The others looked at him in astonishment. They felt that al-Fahl had matured beyond recognition. He noticed the new-found respect reflected in their eyes. If he had spoken like this even two years ago, one of them would have roared with laughter and suggested a quick visit to the male brothel where such loftiness of thought could be transcended by a more active choreography. Not today. They could sense that Zuhayr was not play-acting. They were only too well aware of the changes that had brought about this transformation in all of them. They had, however, no way of knowing that it was his curious encounter with the al-Ma’ari clan, even more than the tragedy of al-Andalus, which had sharpened his mind and alerted his senses. Zuhayr felt it was time to unveil the plan.
‘We have had many discussions in our village. There are now twenty volunteers from al-Hudayl present in this town. The number may be small, but we are all dedicated. The first thing that needs to be done is to build a force of three or four hundred knights who will challenge the Christians to armed combat, every single day in the Bab al-Ramla. The sight of this conflict will excite the passions of the populace and we will have an uprising before they can send reinforcements to the city. We will fight the war from which our Sultan flinched.’
Ibn Basit was blunt in his rejection of the plan.
‘Zuhayr bin Umar, you have surprised me twice this evening. First by your intelligence and second by your stupidity. I agree with you that the Christians want to destroy us completely, but you want to make it easier for them. You want us all to dress up and play their game. Chivalry is a thing of the past — that is, if it ever really existed and was not a chronicler’s invention. Even if we defeated them — and I am not at all sure that our ardour could compete with their butcher’s skills — it would still make no difference. None whatsoever. Our only hope is to prepare our men and take them out of the city to the al-Pujarras. From there we must send ambassadors to establish links with believers in Balansiya and other cities and prepare a rebellion which will erupt simultaneously throughout the peninsula. This is the signal for which the Sultan in Istanbul has been waiting. Our brothers will come to our aid.’
Zuhayr looked around for support, but none was forthcoming. Then Ibn Amin spoke.
‘Both Ibn Basit and my old friend Zuhayr are living in a world of dreams. Basit’s vision is perhaps more realistic, but equally remote from our realities. I have a very simple proposal. Let us cut off the head of the snake. Others will come in his place, but they will be more careful. What I am suggesting is not very complicated and is easy to accomplish. I propose that we ambush Ximenes de Cisneros, kill him and display his head on the city walls. I know he is guarded by soldiers, but they are not many and we would have surprise on our side.’
‘It is an unworthy thought,’ said Zuhayr in a very sombre tone.
‘But I like the idea,’ said Ibn Basit. ‘It has one great merit. We can actually carry it out ourselves. I suggest we prepare our plan carefully over the next few days and meet again to agree on the timing and method.’
Ibn Amin’s suggestion had enlivened the evening. Everyone present spoke with passion. Zuhayr reflected on the future and warned of a repetition of al-Hama in the old quarter of Gharnata. They could say farewell to any thought of victory, farewell to any notion of finding some support amongst the Dominicans. If Cisneros was killed he would become a martyr. Rome would beatify him. Isabella would avenge her confessor’s death in an orgy of blood which would make al-Hama pale in comparison. Despite the intellectual strength of his arguments, Zuhayr found himself totally isolated. Even his followers from al-Hudayl were impressed by the stark simplicity of the plan to assassinate Cisneros. It was on the basis of this rickety enthusiasm that Zuhayr accepted defeat. He would not be party to a killing which went against every principle of chivalry, but nor would he try to obstruct their plans.
‘You are too touchy and proud,’ Ibn Basit said to him. ‘The old days will never return. You are used to your shirts being washed in rose-water and dried with a sprinkling of lavender. I am telling you that everything will be washed in blood unless we decapitate these beasts which Allah has sent to test our will.’
After they had gone, Zuhayr washed himself and went to bed, but sleep would not come. Once again he was racked by doubts. Perhaps he should ride out of the city and link his fate to that of the al-Ma’aris. Perhaps he should just go home and warn his father of the catastrophe that threatened them all. Or, and this thought shocked him greatly, should he flee to Qurtuba and ask Great-Uncle Miguel to baptize him?
Chapter 10
‘THE ONLY TRUE NOBILITY I can accept is that conferred by talent. The worst thing in the world is ignorance. The preachers you seem to respect so much say that ignorance is a woman’s passport to paradise. I would rather the Creator banished me to hell.’
Hind was in the midst of a flaming argument with her lover-to-be, whose affectionate mocking tone had suddenly begun to irritate her. Ibn Daud was taking a special delight in tormenting her. He had begun by posing as an orthodox scholar from the al-Azhar university and had defended the prevalent theology, especially in its pronouncements on the duties and obligations of women believers.
Hind’s impassioned rejection of paradise was what he had really wanted to hear. The passionate Hudayl blood had surged up to her face as she stared at him with angry eyes. She was magnificent in her rage. Ibn Daud felt her power, for the first time. He took her hand and covered it with kisses. This spontaneous display of emotion delighted and excited Hind, but they were not alone in the pomegranate glade.
Ibn Daud’s daring produced a spate of coughing from behind the nearby bushes where three young maid-servants were in attendance. Hind knew them well.
‘Go and take a walk, all of you. Do you think I am deceived by all this nonsense? I know very well what happens when you first catch sight of the palm-tree that grows between the legs of your lovers. You begin to behave like a flock of hungry woodpeckers. Now go and take a walk for a few minutes and do not return until you hear me call! Is that clear?’
‘Yes Lady Hind,’ replied Umayma, ‘but Lady Zubayda…’
‘Have you told Lady Zubayda that my brother mounts you like a dog?’
Hind’s bold retort settled the matter. A staccato outburst of laughter from Umayma’s companions was the only response to this query. Fearing further indiscretions in front of the stranger, the maids moved away from the site. Hitherto their role had been to act as guardians of Hind’s chastity and protect her honour. They now reverted to playing a part more suited to their temperaments and became, once again, the accomplices of their young mistress, keeping watch and making sure that the couple was not surprised.