The Love Slave (59 page)

Z
aynab, Princess of Malina, sat in her summer garden watching the children at play. Six were her own. Seven belonged to her best friend, Oma. Her eldest son, Ja’far, was almost nine. Habib would soon be eight; Abd-al five; and Sulayman was just past two. Their two sisters, Qumar and Subh, were seven—identical twins, as their mother and her own sister had been. Oma’s eldest, who was Alaeddin ben Omar’s only daughter, had already cast her eyes upon Ja’far ibn Karim. Her name was Al-ula, and she told all who would listen that she intended to wed the heir of Malina one day.

“I think her far too bold in her speech,” Al-ula’s mother remarked to Zaynab. Oma had become the very model of the proper Malinean wife. Her husband had taken no other, although he kept two pretty women in his harem as concubines. They were both childless, and would remain so, if Oma could manage it.

“I find her amusing,” Zaynab replied. “I do not want Ja’far to marry some obedient, boring girl one day. Al-ula would suit me well as a daughter-in-law, if she would suit my son. The choice, however, will be up to him when the time comes. He must fall in love even as we did.”

“Aye,” Oma agreed, nodding.

Zaynab grew silent for a time, contemplating back over the last ten years of her life. Smiling, she recalled the look upon Karim’s face that first night when the moonlight had revealed her identity to him. His countenance had at first been unbelieving, and then when he was certain he was not imagining it, joyous beyond anything she had ever seen. They had wept with
happiness in each other’s arms, vowing never to be separated ever again. She had indeed come home to him. Ja’far had been born nine months later to the very day, and Malina had rejoiced with its prince and princess in the birth of a son.

The other children had followed in their time, while Malina prospered as never before. In the marketplaces of the tiny country and in its single city, the people said that the prosperity of Malina was due to the happiness of its ruler and the fertility of his beautiful wife. Malinean silver and produce were in great demand in al-Andalus, and consequently commanded high prices.

In the hills, the mountain clans also thrived under Karim’s rule, their herds growing fat in meadows of rich grass, and selling for premium tariffs at the yearly horse fair that the prince had commanded be held each autumn in Alcazaba Malina. Only a tenth of each sale was taken by the government. Content, the mountain clans were pleased to remain at peace.

The economic well-being of Malina was echoed all over al-Andalus under Abd-al Rahman’s rule. Cordoba was Europe’s most prosperous city, as well as its political and intellectual center, outshining both Baghdad and Constantinople. Missions from France, the German states, Ifriqiya, and the East came to the caliph’s court to pay their respects, to learn, and to gawk. Abd-al Rahman enlarged the central mosque in Cordoba, giving it a magnificent minaret topped with three spheres shaped like pomegranates. Two were fashioned of gold and one of silver. Together they weighed three tons.
De Materia Medica’s
Arabic translation was completed, and the medical university in Cordoba was founded. Now students no longer had to go to Baghdad to become physicians.

The prince and his vizier entered into the gardens. Alaeddin ben Omar was beginning to show flecks of silver in his black beard. His face broke into a grin as Al-ula threw herself at her father, and he swept her up into his arms, kissing her rosy cheek. “Fit for a prince, she is!” he said, his laughter booming.

“Do not encourage her bad behavior,” Oma scolded her husband.

“Oh, I will marry her one day,” young Ja’far ibn Karim said
with a twinkle in his blue eyes, “but she will have to grow a fine pair of breasts before I do, my lady Oma.”

“
Ja’far!
” his mother said sternly, but then she laughed.

“Just like his father,” Karim murmured, seating himself next to his wife, his arm slipping about her waist, kissing her ear.

Zaynab smiled, turning to look lovingly at him. If anything, she loved him more today than when they had first been reunited. “I would,” she said, “that it could go on forever like this, Karim.”

“Aye, my jewel,” he answered her. “If there be paradise on earth, then here we have surely found it!”

And about the four adults the children ran back and forth laughing and playing, their young faces alight with their innocent happiness, their minds unclouded, thinking about nothing more important than whether their parents would allow them to stay up after dark to catch lightning bugs in crystal jars so they might watch them until they fell asleep.

“They are the future,” Karim said to his wife.

“In the spring,” she responded, “I shall give you another bit of the future, another tiny piece of immortality, my darling.”

“I love you, Zaynab,” he said. “Always and forever it has and will be you, no other, my jewel.”

Zaynab reached up, touching Karim’s cheek tenderly. “How extravagant you are, my dear lord.
Always and forever?
I shall hold you to it!”

A Note from the Author

I hope you have enjoyed
The Love Slave
. The Moors of Spain have a rich and varied history, of which I have only touched a tiny part. For those of you who like the history in particular, I suggest the following reading list:

And as always, I invite you to write me about my books at P.O. Box 765, Southold, NY 11971-0765.