Sultana's Legacy Read Free Page B

have done if one of their sons faced such danger. She was a lioness where their children were concerned. He knew she would sacrifice everything for their lives and safety. Their sons and daughters had nothing to fear, safe behind the stout walls of Malaka, not like the son of Doñ Alonso.
    The woman cupped Doñ Alonso’s cheek. He turned and met her gaze. He bent slightly and pressed his forehead against her pale brow. Then she kissed his lips tenderly and withdrew.
    “We cannot allow this, my prince.”
    Faraj turned at the voice of al-Shaykh Khassa Khalid of al-Hakam and witnessed his grim expression.
    Five years after Faraj had claimed the governorship of Malaka, a band of bedraggled refugees appeared on the shore, fleeing pursuit by Christian forces from Mayurqa. Among them were Fatima’s younger sister Alimah with her family, which included her brother by marriage, Khalid. Now, he served as commander of the garrison at Malaka’s citadel. 
    A younger and much more solemn man than his elder brother Abu Umar, who had been prince of the pirates at Mayurqa, Khalid stood tall and thin with a scar that bisected his face. A deep furrow gouged a reddened streak from his forehead, across his nose and into his pale cheek, a reminder of his narrow escape from the long sword of a Castillan mercenary.
    Faraj inhaled deeply, drawing the smell of saltwater into his nostrils. “What would you have me do?”
    Khalid thrust his scimitar in the direction of the citadel. Sunlight caught and traipsed along the sharpened edge of the blade. “You are a father. Can you countenance this action? Would you stand by and allow your own sons to be used in such ways by a coward?”
    Faraj glanced at Muhammad, who shook his head. “If you abandon this campaign, brother, you risk our master’s anger. You may be the husband of his daughter, but if you disgraced him on this battlefield, the Sultan would never spare your life. He is determined to occupy Tarif again. He knows he cannot do it without the Marinids. Do not stir his wrath.”
    Faraj clapped a hand on Khalid’s lean-muscled shoulder. “You should have married, my friend. Then you would have had a wife and children, someone who longed for your return home.”
    “Even with my ugly scar?”
    “It does not frighten the women of Malaka, who favor bold warriors. I have seen how they regard you, scar and all. Even my children’s governess, Amoda favored you.”
    Khalid said, “Amoda favors me still.”
    His stone-faced visage relaxed in the semblance of a smile that showed his even white teeth. Then he sobered and his brow furrowed deeply, the edges of the puckered skin around his scar slightly raised.
    “If I had married, my wife would have wanted children. What right do I have to such happiness? I have slaughtered too many of the sons of others to deserve my own.”
    Faraj shared his grim expression. “I may call upon your sword soon.”
    Khalid bowed his head. “You shall always have it.”
    Muhammad cautioned, “Faraj, let us wait until noon. The Castillan commander may still make the right decision. What else can he do, when faced with such a burden?”
    Faraj forced a chuckle. “Castilla-Leon has had the good fortune to produce worthy and admirable men, who also make excellent opponents. I suspect Doñ Alonso shall do what he must.”
    Khalid said, “Gharnatah has no shortage of men of the same ability. I am grateful to serve a prince such as you.”
    Faraj nodded in silent thanks.
    His gaze strayed to the south again. The migrating birds flying across the Straits of Jabal Tarik were a speck on the horizon. “If only our escape could happen so easily.”
    ***
    At midday, Prince Juan and his beleaguered captive returned to just below the ramparts of the citadel. Although the Muslim call to prayer sounded across the shoreline, no one observed it. Faraj stood with Muhammad and Khalid at either side of him again. The sun blazed across the sky, beating down upon their heads