Yasmina

Yasmina shivered. The killing of Captain Ulf was not something she wanted to dwell on, but it was something she pictured over and over. She could not help it. She looked at the pirate captain and shivered some more.

It had been a hard journey. Yasmina thought once they got to sea, she might better understand why Kirstie enjoyed sailing so much. Instead, she got seasick and stayed queasy the whole trip. If any of the pirates had in mind to take advantage of her, her sickness dissuaded them.

When they went ashore, surrounded by pirates, Yasmina continued to feel like she was swaying for a short while. Aisha took her arm and that helped some. Yasmina could not help the comment on her companion’s appearance. “You look all motherly.”

“I feel like my cousin, Kirstie’s friend. Motherly, but ready to fight like a she bear to defend you and keep you safe.”

Al-Rahim nodded to the sentiment but said nothing. He said little on the trip aboard the pirate ship. He said little since he surrendered. He walked beside them or in front, but he looked like a tiger, declawed. His weapons were all missing. The pirates were excited about getting paid when they delivered the girl.

Yasmina looked around as they walked. It all looked like new construction. The dock looked brand new. The palace they came to looked unfinished. She saw workmen down the way arguing over the length of the timbers. “Where are we?” she finally asked.

“Mahdiya, the new capital of the Fatimids,” al-Rahim whispered. “You see the soldiers. They are young and still full of revolutionary fervor. You see the palace guards are well turned out. And… I am sorry. I managed to keep you out of the hands of the Isma’ili fanatic Qarmatians only to land you in the hands of the Isma’ili fanatic Fatimids.”

“No,” Yasmina said and reached out to touch al-Rahim’s arm. “The story is not over yet.” She had a different comment for Aisha. “We escaped the Wicked Witch of the East only to land in the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West.” Of course, Aisha did not understand what she was saying, but she could imagine. “I wonder if a bucket of water will melt them,” Yasmina added to herself, and then got lost in her thoughts while they were taken inside and told where to wait.

Several hours later, without having had so much as a snack, they were allowed into the audience chamber of the Caliph. Al-Mahdi, the old, gray-haired Fatimid Caliph sat on an ostentatious throne on a raised platform at the end of the room. Throughout history, the Kairos thought such raised platforms were normally so the king, or whoever, could see all the people in the room. In this case, Yasmina got the impression this platform was designed so all the people in the room could see the magnificent Caliph.

Yasmina thought it was good of Islam to ban idolatry and remove all the statues that used to be worshiped. The old way had gone. Unfortunately, most people had a hard time focusing their worship on an Allah-God who is presented as a nebulous, invisible, all-wise, all-powerful, out there spiritual something. Instead, most people tended to replace the stone statues with living people they can relate to. Christians worship Jesus, though with reason. Muslims are no less subject to this, and many tend to worship Mohammed whether they realize it or not. This Fatimid Caliph seemed to be saying the people should worship him, which is the worst sort of idolatry.

Al-Rahim and Aisha went to their knees, and Yasmina offered a bow before she stood there and studied the old man, even as he appeared to be studying her. She looked at the middle-aged man who sat lower on a much simpler chair near the Caliph’s right hand. She figured that must be the son and designated heir, al-Qa’im. There were men to the Caliph’s left, nearby. Advisors, no doubt. And two young men stood near al-Qa’im. Yasmina guessed they were al-Qa’im’s sons. She also noticed the movement behind the lattice work wall off to that same side. The women, Yasmina understood. She imagined the Mahdi’s wife and al-Qa’im’s wife were there to watch, and she wondered about the power dynamics in the harem. Then her attention got taken as al-Mahdi spoke.

“Jafar,” he said. “Have you succeeded?”

The pirate captain got up from his knees and answered. “Indeed, I have. May I present the daughter of the governor of Alexandria, Badroul.”

“She is not,” al-Rahim interrupted and stood. Yasmina noticed some shuffling around behind the lattice wall. Someone wanted a good look at the handsome older man. “Your captain grabbed the wrong girl.”

Al-Mahdi frowned at the pirate while the pirate jumped. “What? Who is she?”

“I am Mohammad al-Rahim, captain of the royal harem guard of Mecca. I serve the women, wives, and concubines of the Lord Sharif of Mecca, Medina, and the Hejaz. May I present Yasmina, the daughter and sole surviving heir of my lord, and by the blood of Ali, the rightful ruler of the holy cities and all of the Hejaz.” People gasped and whispered all around the room. Of course, there was a question whether or not a woman could own and rule any land, but al-Rahim presented her that way and figured the legal questions would come later. He raised his voice to continue over the murmuring crowd.

“When the heretic Qarmatians came into the city under the pretense of being peaceful pilgrims, by her father’s command, I spirited the princess away from Mecca and after a year of travel, we came at last to Alexandria where we might have stayed for a time and rested while we made plans to retake the homeland and liberate the holy cities. Unfortunately, your bungling pirates came in search of the governor’s daughter and kidnapped the wrong girl.”

The pirate captain fell to his knees and trembled, “Please…” he began to beg, but the Caliph waved off his concern and al-Rahim finished his story.

“Thinking further on our situation, I believe it is fortuitus, one may say by the hand of Allah we have come to stand before the great Caliph of the Fatimid. I believe you may grant us sanctuary and may even support our efforts to liberate the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, and above all, protect us against the Qarmatians who have followed the princess every step of the way, even threatening the governor of Egypt to turn her over or they planned to come and fetch her.”

“May I ask,” al-Qa’im interrupted, but looked at his father as if needing permission to speak. Al-Mahdi made no objection. “May I ask why the Qarmatians should be anxious to come and get the princess?” Al-Mahdi frowned at his son, like the answer should be obvious.

“Indeed,” al-Rahim said. “Tahir al-Jannabi wished to marry her to one of his sons so he might have a legitimate claim on the holy cities and the land of the Hejaz.”

Al-Mahdi paused to stroke his beard, like something interesting occurred to him. Al Qa’im looked at his father as the old man spoke. “Child. Do not be afraid. We are like family. You are descended from Ali as we look to his wife Fatimah, daughter of the prophet. It has been many generations since that time. Our relation is now distant, but we are family all the same.” The Caliph sat up a little straighter. “Child, you should not be afraid to show your face to family. Come, lower your veil.”

Excuses, excuses, Yasmina thought. The Caliph just wants to see what goods he is getting before he makes a pronouncement. She lowered her veil and looked at the old man, the son, and the two grandsons, thinking, the advisors are not family.

The Mahdi nodded when he saw her face, like he expected to find a beauty beneath the veil. Al-Qa’im smiled at what he saw. One young man appeared to like what he saw well enough. The other young man showed signs of lust on his face. Yasmina heard more shuffling behind the Lattice wall but only Aisha with her elf ears could hear what the women were saying.

“She is very pretty, and she looks kind.”

“I think she will make a fine wife for al-Hakim.”

“Mother! The Caliph has not even invited her to stay, and you are already marrying him to my son?”

“Of course, that will depend on the figure beneath the robe, but if her face is any indication, I say she will work out well. As for the Caliph, there are ways of convincing my husband to do the right thing. Trust me, I have an idea of what he is thinking. It may not take much convincing.”

“Sadly, I don’t think it will matter. My son does not seem to be interested in girls.”

“Al-Mansur looks interested. We will have to watch that.”

“Al-Mansur is interested in all the girls. He is of the age where he can hardly contain himself.”

“Yes. I had hoped some of him would rub off on al-Hakim.”

“Sadly, no.”

“Too bad that fine looking captain is not a man.”

“Mother!”

The Mahdi spoke. “Let the captain be housed with the harem guards. Let the princess keep her maid, and give her the finest rooms, and feed them, they must be hungry and tired after their long trip. Kahlid, see that they receive proper instruction in the faith.” He waved them off and they got escorted out of the room. Yasmina never did find out what happened to the pirates.