of graying hair covered his rounded head. Faraj eyed him steadily, wondering when the man would note his resemblance to the Sultans of Gharnatah. He supposed it would not take long. He mused that the placid expression on Abdallah’s face was hardly one of welcome, only curiosity.
Abdallah set his large fists, dotted with brown age spots, on his hips. He stood with narrow, sandaled feet spread apart. The rest of his form disappeared under a black jubba and a voluminous Maghribi cloak, the burnus .
He asked, “Which one of you is Prince Muhammad ibn Ismail of the Nasrids?”
Muhammad swallowed loudly and trembled beside Faraj, who cuffed him lightly between the shoulder blades. With Muhammad glaring at him, Faraj pointed and answered. “He is.”
Abdallah offered them a rueful grin. “Then you must be his equally foolish brother, Prince Faraj ibn Ismail, yes?”
Faraj’s jaw tightened. “If you knew me, why did you inquire?”
“I wanted to be certain which of you would prove to be a greater cause for concern. I wanted to determine which of you fools married my niece Fatima. I have judged correctly that it was not the fat one.”
Faraj gasped unwittingly and Muhammad flushed the color of a pomegranate. Abdallah’s thinned lips relaxed in the semblance of a smile.
“You must have guessed that I would speak with you for Fatima’s sake. You knew I would remember the child of my sister. When I received your missive, Prince Faraj…ah, yes, I know it was your request and not that of your brother, I suspected you were the most imprudent man I would ever meet. Or, the most bold. A man would have to be courageous to hold the heart of a princess of the Nasrids. Understand that Fatima is the only reason you shall leave this ship alive. The enmity between our families has cut too deeply. For her sake, I dare not open that old wound or carve new ones into your conniving hide.”
His owlish gaze swiveled to Muhammad. “Wait below in the boat. You have no part in the conversation to follow.”
Muhammad’s deep sigh betrayed his turbulent emotions. “I would stay, if only to ensure Faraj’s safety.”
Faraj cocked his head and looked askance at Muhammad, who shrugged.
Abdallah said, “I do not invite you to remain with us. I have given my word. You and your brother shall leave this ship alive. Do not test me. Disembark.”
Faraj placed a hand on Muhammad’s shoulder. “I thank you for your loyalty. I have done little in life to deserve it.”
Muhammad nodded. “No, you have not deserved it.”
With a grunt and some effort, he heaved himself over the side of the ship. A yelp and an ominous splash followed. Faraj rushed toward the railing. Abdallah’s hand on his chest stayed him.
Abdallah glanced over the side, his man behind him holding the lantern aloft. From below, Muhammad’s groans and sputters filled the air.
“I have you, my prince, come. The water is cold tonight.”
Muhammad cursed his guardsman. “I know, you wretched son of a wild ass! I’m the one who fell in it!”
Abdallah straightened and leaned against the railing. He looked beyond Faraj to where Khalid stood.
Faraj nodded to his captain. “Go help my brother into the boat. Await me below.”
Khalid saluted Faraj and scrambled over the side of the galley.
Abdallah crossed his arms over his barrel chest. His persistent stare held Faraj’s own. “Why did you risk stirring the embers of hatred between our two clans with this nighttime visitation?”
“Neither of us can change the past. What concerns me is the present. Why are you here, Abdallah, serving alongside a Castillan prince who would dishonor himself with the murder of a child just to win this conflict?”
Abdallah grunted and raised one eyebrow in a questioning slant. “Are we not allied in this campaign, Prince Faraj? You and your men have not abandoned it. Is that why you have come, to sway me in your stead? Why should I care for the dead child of a Moor who has
Abdallah set his large fists, dotted with brown age spots, on his hips. He stood with narrow, sandaled feet spread apart. The rest of his form disappeared under a black jubba and a voluminous Maghribi cloak, the burnus .
He asked, “Which one of you is Prince Muhammad ibn Ismail of the Nasrids?”
Muhammad swallowed loudly and trembled beside Faraj, who cuffed him lightly between the shoulder blades. With Muhammad glaring at him, Faraj pointed and answered. “He is.”
Abdallah offered them a rueful grin. “Then you must be his equally foolish brother, Prince Faraj ibn Ismail, yes?”
Faraj’s jaw tightened. “If you knew me, why did you inquire?”
“I wanted to be certain which of you would prove to be a greater cause for concern. I wanted to determine which of you fools married my niece Fatima. I have judged correctly that it was not the fat one.”
Faraj gasped unwittingly and Muhammad flushed the color of a pomegranate. Abdallah’s thinned lips relaxed in the semblance of a smile.
“You must have guessed that I would speak with you for Fatima’s sake. You knew I would remember the child of my sister. When I received your missive, Prince Faraj…ah, yes, I know it was your request and not that of your brother, I suspected you were the most imprudent man I would ever meet. Or, the most bold. A man would have to be courageous to hold the heart of a princess of the Nasrids. Understand that Fatima is the only reason you shall leave this ship alive. The enmity between our families has cut too deeply. For her sake, I dare not open that old wound or carve new ones into your conniving hide.”
His owlish gaze swiveled to Muhammad. “Wait below in the boat. You have no part in the conversation to follow.”
Muhammad’s deep sigh betrayed his turbulent emotions. “I would stay, if only to ensure Faraj’s safety.”
Faraj cocked his head and looked askance at Muhammad, who shrugged.
Abdallah said, “I do not invite you to remain with us. I have given my word. You and your brother shall leave this ship alive. Do not test me. Disembark.”
Faraj placed a hand on Muhammad’s shoulder. “I thank you for your loyalty. I have done little in life to deserve it.”
Muhammad nodded. “No, you have not deserved it.”
With a grunt and some effort, he heaved himself over the side of the ship. A yelp and an ominous splash followed. Faraj rushed toward the railing. Abdallah’s hand on his chest stayed him.
Abdallah glanced over the side, his man behind him holding the lantern aloft. From below, Muhammad’s groans and sputters filled the air.
“I have you, my prince, come. The water is cold tonight.”
Muhammad cursed his guardsman. “I know, you wretched son of a wild ass! I’m the one who fell in it!”
Abdallah straightened and leaned against the railing. He looked beyond Faraj to where Khalid stood.
Faraj nodded to his captain. “Go help my brother into the boat. Await me below.”
Khalid saluted Faraj and scrambled over the side of the galley.
Abdallah crossed his arms over his barrel chest. His persistent stare held Faraj’s own. “Why did you risk stirring the embers of hatred between our two clans with this nighttime visitation?”
“Neither of us can change the past. What concerns me is the present. Why are you here, Abdallah, serving alongside a Castillan prince who would dishonor himself with the murder of a child just to win this conflict?”
Abdallah grunted and raised one eyebrow in a questioning slant. “Are we not allied in this campaign, Prince Faraj? You and your men have not abandoned it. Is that why you have come, to sway me in your stead? Why should I care for the dead child of a Moor who has
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