Spring in Cordoba

[Zamdrist]

Update: This thread is closed to new players. Thank you.

Characters/Players
Ahled Yonsuf - Zamdrist
Jamilah Mohlam- SexyChele

Non Player Characters
Azam Mohlam - Jamilah's father and well-to-do merchant
Kahlad - Proprietor of coffeehouse in merchant's district
Nadab - Jamilah's maid and attendant
Cloba - Trusted slave in the employ of Azam

Premise: Young Moorish man and woman fall in love. Despite father's wishes the couple cannot withold thier passion and lust for one another. Plot will develop over time. Setting is inspired by the book The Walking Drum by Louis L'Amour

Orientation: Straight

Tone/Flavor: Mood should be sensual and romantic.

Posting Frequency: Minimum of once every three days

Setting: 12th Century Moorish Spain

http://www.batguano.com/bgma/sGERpygB.jpg

It was spring in Cordoba, the sun shone high above yet a breeze cooled me and fluttered through my woven tunic. I rode briskly into Cordoba that day in mind of reaching my benefactor, a merchant whom my father did business with. It had been an easy two-day ride from Seville; the fine black Arab mare my father had given me made it so. I had a few coins to my name and a fine ruby stone sewn into the pocket of my jacket. That would bring a fine sum here in Cordoba I was sure, yet my father's words reminded me to sell it only were I in the most dire of straits. As my thoughts strayed from the road I smoothed my beard, shaven in the style of all Moors, shortly cropped and carefully cut from ear to chin. A gust of wind blew through my equally dark hair, short enough to not be blown astray in the wind.

My only instructions were to find a certain coffeehouse in the merchant’s district, named after the owner, Kahlad. Once there, I was to inquire into the whereabouts of my father’s business partner, Azam Mohlam. I was to be instructed and tutored in the business of a merchant. My father sent me to Cordoba for, as he said, he wanted someone else to teach me the craft of mercantilism. He felt being my father that he wouldn’t be a good teacher. It was a sound principle and I believed my father to be a wise man.

I needed no encouragement to move to Cordoba, it was the thriving center for knowledge, culture and progressive art. Besides, my young heart yearned to mill about socially with other people of my age, of most interest women. I loved my father and respected him immensely, yet I knew in my heart I was not a merchant, but a poet and seeker of knowledge. Two precious and rare books rode along with me in my saddlebag with my other effects. I would do my best at becoming a respectable merchant with the hopes enough time would be left to pursue my interests in other endeavors.

The hooves of my horse clapped sharply upon the stone tiles of the bridge I crossed. The bridge was a holdover from the Roman days and dutifully kept up by the industrious Moors.

“I am in Cordoba!” I sang to myself.

 

[SexyChele]

Jamilah

She awoke that morning to a bright and clear Spring day. Before even dressing, she rushed to the window and flung open the shutter, allowing the clean air to fill her bedroom and make her feel alive once more. As birds flew about overhead, Jamilah did not notice the door to her bedroom open, nor did she hear the footsteps of her maid enter. She was snapped from her reverie by the maid's shrill voice, and felt the other woman's hands push her from the window.

"Jamilah! What is wrong with you, my child? You know better than to expose yourself in front of an open window before you have been properly dressed!"

She was disappointed as her maid, Nadab, quickly closed the shutters cutting off the fresh Spring air for just a little while. Moving towards the bed, she waited while Nadab scurried about, getting her clothes ready for that day. As usual, Jamilah's mind wandered until she was no longer in the confines of her room. Instead she was out in the streets of Cordoba, out in the sunshine, passing people and looking into their eyes, hearing their conversations.

"Jamilah, come back to us. Quickly, now, you are late!"

She looked up at the maid with a question in her eyes, and then realized that her day would be much like any other. She had reached the age of 18, and she should have been married long before now - yet her father's standard for any suitor were so high, Jamilah sometimes wonder if she should ever marry. Instead, her days were spent in the pursuit of learning to be a lady of her station, religious studies, and needlework.

She sighed as the maid removed her nightshift, shivering slightly in the cool room. Jamilah stood, as a doll, while the maid placed first her shift, then two underdresses over her head. Slipping the final dress of emerald green over her head, the velvet material flowing softly over her slim waist and full breasts. Picking up the a girdle of gold material, the maid secured it around her hips, only serving to accentuate the smallness of Jamilah's waist and the ripe fullness of her hips.

Sitting patiently before a mirror, Jamilah watched as Nadab quickly brushed her long, raven hair into flowing waves that, when she stood, reached to Jamilah's knees. Quickly, the maid plaited her hair into two long braids, leaving the hair around Jamilah's face loose and full. Wrapping the sheer veil beneath her chin, Jamilah watched as the maid then secured the long, sheer veil over the top of her head and down her back. Nadab placed a thin, gold circlet around the top of Jamilah's head as a final touch. The veil reached just above Jamilah's eyes, the whiteness of veil striking against her olive complection. Jamilah gazed back at her deep brown eyes, but before she could start to daydream Nadab hurried her from the room.

Walking with grace and dignity, she arrived in the main hall of the house just as her father was preparing to leave. As he wrapped his cloak about his shoulders, he looked at her and smiled. She was all he had - her mother had died shortly after giving birth, leaving only she and her father.

"Father, where are you going this day?"

"Ah, my flower! I am off to meet with the son of a business associate. I may have a new student to tutor in the ways of buying and selling - if he shows promise. Now, you obey your tutors and I shall see you for dinner."

He took hold of her shoulders and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Yes, father," she said as he quickly turned on his heel and walked from the house. Jamilah walked out to the garden where she wander through the haze of fragrant flowers just blooming in the mild air. Jamilah had always been obedient to her father. She dreaded doing anything that might bring disappointment in his eyes towards her. It never occurred to her to go against her father's wishes, and even though she had rather been out in the streets of the city, she was in her father's garden, awaiting her tutor to begin her day's lessons.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Beautiful mosques and gleaming minarets rose up from the prosperous city. The city was alive with people of all races and origins. Scholars mingled amongst clerics and other men of the cloth. Common men and women milled about beside the beggars and thieves as were usual to a city of this size.

Much music could be heard at nearly every corner, often competing with the shouts of street hawkers. Smells of all sorts wafted by me, the smells of spices, perfumes and cooking. The colors were dazzling colors of rich red silks, royal blue and crisp white cloth. Most people were admirably dressed in the fashions of the day, some were more modest and a few poor.

These sights I took in as I made my way on horse towards the merchant's district. It wasn't difficult to find, as people were friendly enough with pointing me in the right direction. As I entered what I believed to be the vicinity I inquired to the particular coffeehouse I sought and again, was pointed in a direction just further down the avenue from where I was.

The merchant’s district was clearly laid out differently than the rest of the city. As well, the streets and walkways were more free of beggars and other undesirables. Along the avenue were many establishments of all different sorts. Goods were sold in Cordoba where such things were not at all available in other cities within hundreds of miles. From rare silks, dyed leather goods, exotic spices and weapons made from Toledo Steel could be bought in Cordoba. Staggered along the line of shops were small courtyards and groomed lawns with sculptured trees and bushes. Fine and perfumed ladies walked or were transported in diaphanous sedans up and down the street. Most were veiled while a few were not.

My excitement was great and I nearly forgot about my responsibilities to meet Azam Mohlam at the coffeehouse. Kahlad’s establishment was found easily just further up the avenue and I quickened my pace. It would not due to make my benefactor wait upon me any more than was necessary. I made haste and stabled my horse across the way and I crossed the avenue to enter Kahlad’s Coffeehouse.

What awaited me in this wonderful new city and as Azam’s student? I knew not but I was excited more than intimidated. Nevertheless I breathed deeply before entering the coffeehouse. It would do to make a good first impression on an old friend of my father’s.

 

[SexyChele]

Jamilah

Her wait in the garden was not long. Soon after her father left, Nadab ushered in a staunch old man who would see to her religious studies. Jamilah did take her faith seriously - indeed her father had instilled in her an obedient spirit towards those things holy. He had told her that her mother, a Spainard by birth, never faltered in her faith. Jamilah had long ago promised herself to be as her mother.

And yet, as a brisk breeze blew through the garden and brought the scent of flowers with it, Jamilah's mind could not concentrate on the books her tutor brought with him. She sat across from him, and watched as he opened first one, and then another book. Jamilah stiffled a yawn and heard a grunt from Nadab who sat nearby, her constant chaperone. She glanced at Nadab, who returned with a sharp look, before devoting her attention to the ancient man in front of her.

By now, Jamilah should have received all the instruction need for a woman of her station. Women who were too well-educated were often over-looked as suitable mates, and Jamilah's father walked a thin line by continuing her studies. The few friends she had giggled at her as they rocked their babies and tended their husband's needs. Jamilah was told by all that her father would make a suitable match for her, but she despaired of ever having a husband.

Indeed, her thoughts ran to romance more and more lately. On the rare occasions Nadab took her to the market, Jamilah would shyly glance at the young men they encountered, and sometimes her heart would skip a beat. She found herself more and more thinking of what it would be like to have a man's lips on hers, to feel his fingers running through her hair, the warmth of his body next to hers in the dark of night.

"Jamilah? Jamilah, my child? Please, you are not paying attention," she vaguely heard her instructor saying.

"Bah! She is off dreaming again! Jamilah! You know your father will quiz you this evening!"

Snapped from her dreams, Jamilah glanced at Nadab, and smiled at her kindly tutor.

"I'm sorry. Yes, my mind had wandered with this beautiful day, but shall we?"

Jamilah took one of the books and began her lessons. It seemed as though it would be forever before the sun would start to sink, and she could look forward to her father's return.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Entering the coffeehouse, I was pleased for the coolness of the air inside. While there were just a few patrons, all turned to look upon my entrance then turned back to their brews and conversations. I certainly blended into the populace in Cordoba, wearing a finely cut blue tunic with a wide leather belt cinched at the waist. My high leather riding boots were actually made here in Cordoba and expertly so. My only defense in this large city was a long dagger tucked underneath my belt, a finely honed steel blade. While I was not a vain young man, I was often pleased at the many women who tended to glance my way and bless me with their smiles and fluttering eyelashes.

Kahlad's establishment was an immaculate kept place, the hardwood floors were cleanly swept as were the round tables wiped clean and shone with a varnished gleam. I knew not what sort of man Azam looked like, only that he was known to frequent this place. I approached a man, presumably Kahlad himself and quietly queried to the merchant's whereabouts. He was speaking with another man and turned my way. All I got was a shrug and a turned shoulder. Scratching my beard I looked about the place for someone who might be Azam.

The man Kahlad was speaking to offered me a seat. He was an older gentleman not far removed in age from my father I surmised.

“Young man! You seek Azam? He may be about later.”

I sat with this man but kept an eye on the door so I might watch the comings and goings of the patrons. We talked of the weather briefly, he made comment on the craftsmanship of my boots and I told him they were bought here in Cordoba. We talked more and nothing of consequence, I purchased myself a brew I knew would sit well with me, one I’ve had tasted before. Our conversation grew more in depth and this man, whose name I yet did not know asked of my business in Cordoba. It was then that I realized this man must be Azam himself. Through our conversations he was assessing me, measuring me. I did not let on to my revelation, our conversation continued and we each ordered a fresh drink.

Between our conversations I slipped in his name, “Azam, sir tell me how trade goes in Cordoba this spring? He of course caught on and a sly grin broke over his face.

“All in good time lad!” Azam said as he clapped me on the back.

Time had passed more quickly than I had realized. We had a luncheon of baked fowl stuffed with fried pilaf. Soon Azam made it clear it would be best to get me settled in his home and stable my horse. He did not live far and I lead my horse by her reins while we walked a short distance from Kahlad’s. I was glad to have met my first objective, meeting Azam. Now to get settled and find out what might lie in my future in Cordoba.

 

[SexyChele]

Jamilah watched as shadows in the garden slowly shifted and grew longer. The old man had left, shaking his head as usual. He made it clear that he felt Jamilah should have a husband and family to watch over, rather than study books. Why, it was plain the girl had reached an age where romance was uppermost in her mind. Still, her father paid him well to continue her lessons, so they both forged ahead.

Jamilah worked diligently at her needlework, trying to forget her loneliness and the slow passage of time. She sighed heavily several times, yet she feared putting her work down for Nadab's sharp tongue would chastise her.

Soon the garden was completely in shadow, the sun sinking into the west. Jamilah glanced about as certain flowers were closing for their evening's sleep, while others were first awakening. She thought it strange that flowers that bloomed at night had the strongest scents. Yet, she was thankful for that, as her bedroom window overlooked the garden and the scent of flowers filled her scenses when she slept on warm nights.

The garden was surrounded on three sides by the house, and on one side by a wall measuring 7 feet in height. On the other side of the wall was a quiet street that lead to one of the larger ones. Jamilah often came into the garden simply to hear people passing on the street, catch bits of conversation, and be involved in life outside her father's house. She envied those of lower class who could walk about freely. As a woman of her station, and still a maid, she was chaperoned whenever she left her father's home.

A pang of guilt cut through her heart as she realized the thoughts cutting into her mind. Her father loved her with all his heart, this she knew. He would deny her nothing as long as it was within the boundaries of proper protocol. Even Nadab - sweet, old, fat, bossy - loved her as a mother would lover her child. She knew deep down they were only after her welfare, and for this she was thankful. Quickly, Jamilah offered a prayer up to God, begging His forgiveness of her in her doubt.

"Jamilah, child, come. It is almost twilight and your father shall be home any moment!"

Sighing, Jamilah carefully put her needlework away, and stretched as she stood up. She stepped gracefully through the flowers and bushes towards the house, giving the garden a last look until tomorrow. Stepping into the house, Jamilah is greeted with the smells of food cooking. Her stomach rumbles, as she remembers she had not eaten since late morning. Hurrying to kitchen, she watches over the cook and serving girl, making sure all is in order and pleased with the results.

"Oh my! Quick! You girl, there! Set another place, and be quick about it!" Nadab hurries into the kitchen.

"Nadab? What is it? What is wrong?" Jamilah questions her maid.

"Nothing, Jamilah. Ony your father is home and he brings a guest - a young man is with him, and you know your father will want him to stay for dinner."

As Nadab scurries from the kitchen to oversee the table, Jamilah registers the words Nadab has spoken - "... a young man is with him." Who can it be? The business associate? Her father often brings home men he does business with, but they are usually wizened and old. Jamilah quickly looks down at her gown, and she knows the emerald green sets off her coloring to perfection. But she is not wearing an overcoat! And without that, her figure will be openly displayed.

Quickly, Jamilah leaves the kitchen to go to her room to find the outer garment she needs. Yet, as she nears the stairs, she hears the massive door open and suddenly Nadab is beside her.

"What are you thinking of? Child, go and greet your father!"

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Azam’s home was the home of a wealthy merchant. It was a home very typical in design to Moorish homes; two floors of the home surrounded a large central garden on three sides; vaulted archways led into the garden. The home was largely made up of finely cut white painted stone with the archways made of richly hued marble. The roof was covered in a typical fashion with layers of curved terracotta titles. Carefully groomed green bushes lined the walkway up to the home as well as encircled the grounds.

The sun was setting on the horizon sending rays of deep orange across the sky. Slaves had lit torches at the doorway of Azam’s home; their smoke lifted up into the twilight evening sky. My horse and belongings were led away by one of the slaves and Azam and I walked up the tiled walkway to his home. Along the way we spoke of my living arrangements and briefly of my tutorship as a merchant.

“I must make myself clear to you young Ahled. I have a daughter of your age and she is an innocent flower to this world and in my eyes. I shall run you through with my sword if you were to despoil her in any way!”

I shook my head in agreement, wordlessly and gravely at his bold words.

“You are here to learn the trade of a merchant. You will have time to yourself also, but I suspect you shall be quite busy. You will stay in a room off my study, it has been arranged to accommodate you.”

“Your hospitality is gracious sir. Fear not that I will devote myself to learning all that I can from you. I did not travel to Cordoba to disappoint my father.” I said with a conviction I hoped would sound convincing. I certainly believed it myself.

“Good then Aheld, come meet my family then.”

Down the path at the entrance of the house stood the figure of a young woman. All that could be seen behind the glare of the evening torches was the curvaceous outline of this woman, presumably Azam’s daughter come to greet her father home. I could not yet see her face as it was in the shadows, yet my eyes widened at the sight of her hips and bosom outlined in the contrasting light. Remembering Azam’s warning I averted my eyes from the vision and my mind from the sudden thoughts that invaded me.

“Allah, lend me your strength and wisdom!” I prayed to myself.

Azam and daughter greeted each other in an embrace and paternal kiss upon the cheek. I stood by with hands behind my back and eyes humbly averted as the two greeted one another.

“Ahled! Meet my daughter Jamilah.”

I lifted my eyes with a smile upon my face. How could I have known such beauty existed in this world? As the young man I was, I was ill prepared.

 

[SexyChele]

A Meeting, A Glimpse

Jamilah turned just as her father entered the main hall. Walking quickly, she stood beneath an arch at the entrance to the main hall, waiting for her father to greet her. As he turned towards her, his eyes lit up and a smile crossed his lips. He walked towards her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and gently kissed her cheek.

"Ah, my flower! And did you do as your tutors instructed you today?"

"Good evening, father," Jamilah murmured softly. "Yes, father, I did try to follow their instructions as best I could."

She heard Nadab clear her throat, and knew her maid was voicing her own disproval at a girl Jamilah's age still having tutors. But Jamilah was anxious to hear of her father's day - he always told the most amazing tales of the different people he had met throughout the day. Yet, tonight, he gripped her arm tightly and turned from her.

"My daughter, I should like you to meet some one. This is Ahled Yonsuf, the son of an associate of mine. He will be an apprentice of sorts to me, and we shall have him stay here with us. Ahled, this is my daughter, Jamilah."

Raising her eyes to the stranger, Jamilah found herself looking into a face that caused her to catch her breath. Yes, he was young, yet his looks were those of which storytellers write about to stir the hearts of maids. And Jamilah found her heart beat quicken as his dark eyes met hers. She felt a her face darken with a blush, and suddenly the palms of her hands felt moist. She had played hostess to a number of her father's business associates and customers, however, none had been this handsome. And certainly none had ever caused Jamilah to be caught speechless.

Keeping near her father, Jamilah slightly lowered her eyes in deference to Ahled, maintaining a demure composure.

"Welcome to our home, Ahled Yonsuf. May you find peace withing these walls. We are indeed honored to have you stay with us. Allah be praised."

Her neverousness increased, and she wondered how she would ever be able to sit at the table and eat. Her mind swimming, her hearth thudding, Jamilah tried to get her emotions under control.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Never before had I been so stricken by the beauty of a young woman! I called upon the strength that my religious training as a young Muslim had given me to maintain composure.

At Jamilah's welcome I bowed slightly and inclined my head in respect to my benefactor's daughter. This afforded me the opportunity to scan her figure from head to toe, although I resisted the temptation I failed miserably.

Oh how that emerald dress flattered her bosom and hugged around her hips! I saw a flash of her beautiful eyes before they were lowered beneath long eyelashes. Her cream-brown complexion was flawless. I couldn't imagine how her father kept her away from the young suitors that surely wooed her daily. Remembering her father I diverted my gaze and spoke, mustering all the steadiness of voice I could.

"May Allah bless you and your father's home always." I said; a common greeting when welcomed into a Muslim home.

Our greeting was brief yet left me dizzy with all sorts of jumbled thoughts. Will I see her again? If so, will I see her often? Would we get a chance to speak again? These questions I pondered as I was led further into Azam’s home by one of his slaves. Azam’s home was rich but not more than I was accustomed to. Wonderfully painted frescos decorated the walls at tastefully placed intervals. Expensive tapestries, obviously brought from far lands I knew not, hung here and there. The home was well lit with burning brass sconces that gave off a pungent, sweet smell but little smoke.

Cloba, the male slave I later learned was named, assured me my personal effects were safe in what would be my sleeping chambers and led me to a bathing chamber with a large refinished Roman tub. The room was tiled in white and blue flecked squares. I was surprised that the tub had copper plumbing. While it was the Moors that brought copper plumbing to Spain, it was nevertheless a luxury afforded to the wealthier of peoples. Though my father was a successful merchant, we did not have such a luxury as this. Curious I watched as Cloba twisted a small brass handle that stopped the flow of steaming water that had been filling the tub. I assured him I was quite capable of bathing myself despite his overtures. He left me be after telling me my presence was requested at the dining hall, to which he would lead me to after I was finished.

Excited and with a small measure of nervousness I bathed in the tub, dried myself off and donned the clothes left me by Cloba. I wore a comfortable tunic of dyed doeskin of a gray color with a red sash at the waist; on my feet a pair of house shoes. It was a warm evening and I was glad for the light attire. Refreshed from my long day Cloba nodded his approval outside the chamber and lead me to the dinning room where I was expected for dinner. Would Jamilah be there to?

 

[SexyChele]

She felt she had hardly seen him before he was shuffled off to the room her father had prepared for Ahled. Jamilah had kept her eyes lowered, but now she raised them to look at her father, certain he could see her heart thumping wildly in her chest. But his attention was drawn to a letter he was reading. Taking a deep breath, Jamilah tried to breathe, until she caught Nadab’s glare. Jamilah felt herself shrink from the steady gaze of her maid.

“Jamilah, my flower, when will dinner be served? I’m famished!”

“Soon, father. Very soon. I’ll check on it now.”

Jamilah almost ran from the room, and just outside the doorway leaned against a pillar for support.

“Jamilah!” Nadab had been right on her heels. “You know your father will pick your husband for you when the appropriate suitor has been found. And your father will not choose a man who does not have the same station in life that you have!”

Jamilah glared at her maid, while she regained her steadiness.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Nadab. Besides, I have to check on the meal.”

As Jamilah went past her main, Nadab grabbed her arm and spun Jamilah around to face her.

“Nadab! What are you doing?”

“I saw the look! I saw the look that past between the two of you! Why, you are but a girl! And you know nothing of this man – nothing! Don’t waste your time or heart, Jamilah. You know you father wants you to marry a man of means and station – an older man, who would hold your best interests at heart.”

“Bah! An old man so my father may have company, you mean! I’m young, I want a young husband. Is that so much to ask? And besides, did you not notice the clothes of Ahled? They were of a well-to-do man. I think he must be a man of some importance, don’t you?”

“You will take whatever your father provides for you, and nothing else! This you know! Now, don’t go about daydreaming, Jamilah! Remember, I’ve been with you since before your mother died. I know you better than anyone. But you will marry whoever your father declares suitable!”

“Jamilah! Were is dinner? I’m starved!”

Jamilah glanced up at Nadab, while clutching her skirts and moving towards the kitchen.

“I assure you, Nadab. I will do nothing to make my father ashamed of me. This you should know”

Before allowing a moment for the servant to answer, Jamilah whisked by her and onto the kitchen. She began to tremble now, and wondered if her feelings were as open to Ahled as they evidently were to Nadab.

In kitchen, the final preparations were being made. Jamilah sent two servants to fetch her father and Ahled. She waited until she was certain her father and Ahled were in the dining hall before she made her appearance. Nadab had removed the wimple from under her chin, and this afforded a view of Jamilah’s neck and the soft skin just above the neckline of her gown, As she walked into the room, Jamilah tried not to look at Ahled, but it was difficult to not give him a sideways glance now and then.

Ahled seemed to have rested a bit and changed his tunic. The change of clothing truly accentuated his good looks, and Jamilah found herself appreciating his good looks from beneath her lashes.

As she stood at her chair, her father told all to sit. A servant came forward to help Jamilah be seated. As she looked at her father across the table, she attempted to concentrate on the conversation and her food.

She failed at both.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

The spread upon the dinning table was a luxurious one. I supposed it was a special time, welcoming a new guest to the home of Azam, though I wondered if all my meals here might be so decadent? The dishes ranged from fowl and pilaf to steamed vegetables and skewered kabobs. There were fruits on fine plates and wines of several flavors to sample.

My glance took in again the eyes of Jamilah and her form. Oh those eyes! I did not miss either, the smooth skin she now showed at her neck and below. Such a creature of beauty I had not known existed before! I struggled to not daydream overly of holding this girl in my arms and possessing her. Azam bade us all to be seated after him, which we did and I forced myself to concentrate on Azam’s voice and our talk.

The exchange and conversation with Azam was truly interesting. Azam told me much about Cordoba and answered my questions with the experience of a merchant and one that had lived there his whole life. Ibn-Haram was the caliph in power in Cordoba. Azam spoke highly of him as the ruler's policies had had a positive effect on Azam's profits. Azam dealt with many items of trade, such as imported ceramics from China, coffee from Africa and silks from Cathay. The city while largely Muslim but was home to many peoples from many areas, including Arabs, Berbers, Greeks, as well as some Franks and a few Saxons. The city was diverse as people of all manner were drawn to its’ public libraries, carefully tended gardens and beautiful mosques.

As our talk slowed and we began eating I could not miss the furtive looks from Jamilah. More than once I caught her looking at me in the most curious of ways, beneath those long, dark eyelashes. Once again images flashed in my mind, like how she might look lying in my bed or how it might be to feel those succulent lips against mine. Such thoughts as these would get me killed at best shame my family were I to act upon them. Nor did I know where Jamilah’s interest might lie. Like a fool I had to ask Azam to repeat a question he made of me. Fortunately he did not seem to notice the reasons for my distractions.

Jamilah did not participate much in our conversation, as it was the talk of men and the mercantile business. I longed to hear more of her voice however and attempted to draw her into our conversation.

“Jamilah, if may ask, how have you found life in Cordoba?” I asked of her.

 

[SexyChele]

Jamilah absently listened to the talk of mercantile as she desperately tried to get food past her lips. Her father had brought home many associates before, and Jamilah was used to hearing their talk over dinner. Normally, she quietly ate her food and let her mind drift, even as she watched to make certain the servants served the proper food at the proper intervals.

Yet, tonight, her mind would not wander, and her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. Though she tried to find something with which to occupy her mind, her glance kept going back to the handsome young man who sat at her father's right hand.

Jamilah chided herself in her mind. It was unseemly for a woman of her station to allow herself to be so drawn to a man that she would risk glancing at him in more than a casual way. And if her father should catch her! He would not show his wrath here, but she could very well be placed in her room for however long he determined.

Jamilah, if may ask, how have you found life in Cordoba?

Jamilah looked up startled at his words. No one besides her father had ever openly addressed her at the dinner table. She looked into the warm eyes of Ahled, before she cautiously glanced at her father. Though he seemed a bit surprised, he looked at Jamilah and have a slight nod.

"Sir, my excursions into the city are rare, but what I have seen I find fascinating. Cordoba has a certain magic about it. I must admit that whenever I travel through the city, I am amazed at the number of people and at the sheer beauty of this city."

Jamilah glanced at Ahled, afraid she would be considered babbling, yet he continued to look at her as he dipped the lavash into the tabouleh and brought it to his lips.

"Of course, I learn quite a bit from my father's business associates," she continued, "and, when I was very young, my maid used to take me on picnics in the countryside. I did love those times."

She noticed Ahled was smiling, but she could not tell if he was amused at what she had said or if he felt her a fool. Blushing slightly, she clumsily picked up a piece of lavash and tried to dip it into one of the bowls of food while trying to maintain some grace.

Gathering up her courage, Jamilah asked her first personal question of a man.

"Tell us, please, what is your impression of our fair city? Is she all that you imagined?"

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

A smile came to me unbidden at the singsong quality of Jamilah's voice. Oh how a man could lose himself in those eyes and that voice!

Tell us, please, what is your impression of our fair city? Is she all that you imagined?"

"I am stricken with Cordoba's beauty! The golden mosques, the beautiful gardens! And the people, so many and so varied! I look forward to learning more of Cordoba, and of course of the mercantile business from your father."

While I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in Jamilah's eyes, I was careful to move my gaze from father to daughter as I talked. I was young, but not stupid.

Our talk continued, mostly between Azam and myself. Our dinner completed, fine desserts were brought out. I selected a sherbet dish that was cool and creamy.

The evening's meal finished, I was left with instructions from Azam to meet with him in his study come morning. He called for the slave, Cloba to show me to my sleeping quarters. The evening was young yet, but I suspected I would sleep well after the long ride into Cordoba and hearty meal. My lodgings were fine, yet no finer than mine own back in Seville. Cloba had brought my saddlebags, which were stowed underneath my bed. My window looked out into the garden in the center court, on the first floor. A fine stone fountain splashed in the middle of the court, sending a quiet soothing sound into my room.

Cloba and I unpacked my saddlebags and stowed my clothes in a cherry oak dresser and closet. We talked, Cloba telling me more of Cordoba, of its dangers as well of its finer points.

“Men and woman of your age and station often frequent a public garden called the Court of Oranges.” Cloba said.

I nodded and made a mental note of the area he described. I doubted I would have time for much idleness. Azam was surely a taskmaster not unlike my own father. Settled and unpacked Cloba left me to myself. I lit a brass lantern, pulled out a book and read upon my bed by the light. I read a translated version of Qubus Nama. It was the writing of a Persian prince and his lessons from rule, the successes and follies.

Yet my mind wandered inevitably from the book to the image of Jamilah and her svelte beauty. In fact, my eyes focused more on the flickering flame of my lantern, as though I could scry her whereabouts and see those dark eyes and watch her curvaceous hips move again.

This was indomitable! I swung my feet around and sat up on the edge of my bed. I looked out into the night, through my window and into the garden. Maybe a breath of fresh air would ease my mind.

 

[SexyChele]

Throughout dinner, Jamilah was in a state of turmoil. Ahled’s words washed over her like a spring of warm water, filling her at once with peaceful security and tumultuous emotions she had not known she was capable of feeling. Her appetite had fled, yet if her father suspected that she wasn’t eating he would be concerned. So, Jamilah almost absently ate her food, concentrating instead on swallowing each morsel.

After dinner, as was customary, her father took his guest and went to his study. Jamilah was dismissed for the evening. Wandering into one of the great rooms of the house, she attempted to concentrate on her needlework, but it seemed tedious when her heart was aflutter. However, she knew Nadab would be in to check her progress, so she put her mind to her work in hopes that she would be able to get by with doing a little less.

“Your work suffers this night, child. Perhaps it is the uncommon heat that causes your mind to wander?” Nadab spoke from over her shoulder.

Jamilah had started. It never ceased to amaze her how a woman of Nadab’s girth could so easily and quietly enter a room. It was almost as though her feet did not touch the floor.

“Yes, the heat, Nadab. It’s hard to control the needle when one’s fingers become moist. Perhaps I should leave this for tomorrow. The heat has made me tired.”

“And a bit restless, no doubt? Well, tonight you shall sleep with the window open and let the coolness of the night air soothe you.”

Jamilah simply nodded as she made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber. Nadab helped to remove the cumbersome robes Jamilah had worn and put them away. The open window sent a cool breeze into the room – just enough to flutter the light curtains on her bed. The breeze caressed Jamilah’s slender body and was just cool enough to cause her nipples to rise. Glancing down, she wondered how it would feel to have a man’s lips kissing her gently there. Would it cause a tingle through her body as the coolness now provided? She shivered at the thought of Ahled’s handsome face and dark hair hovering over her breast, his lips seeking the tender flesh that rose up to greet him. She could feel herself flush, and felt a strange fluttering within her.

Suddenly Nadab stood in front of her, a scowl on her face.

“Child! Your arms! How am I supposed to get this on?”

“I’m sorry,” Jamilah murmured, as she raised her arms above her head.

Nadab quickly and roughly brought the nightdress over her head, and settled it on Jamilah’s shoulders. The nightdress had been a remarkable gift from her father – made of cotton so fine it felt like linen, yet just slightly sheer, almost like the gossamer wings of a fine butterfly. The white only served to provide a perfect contrast to her olive skin and dark hair. A pity it was that only she and Nadab ever saw it. Although the nightdress was very full, it flowed around her body and allowed anyone to have a perfect view of her body – almost as if from behind a sheer veil.

Already Nadab was shoving Jamilah’s arms into a dark blue velvet robe and cinching it about her waist. Jamilah walked to the table where the large mirror dominated the corner, and sat still as Nadab lovingly brushed out Jamilah’s raven hair. Her hair was long, as it was the custom that a woman never cut her hair except that she is shamed. Brushing Jamilah’s hair was always a chore – her hair reached her knees and was very thick – but Nadab always took tender care while she brushed. Always the same whispered lecture that Jamilah should never do anything that would cause her father to have to cut her hair, that Jamilah must always be obedient and maintain the dignity of her locks. But tonight Jamilah paid Nadab no mind. Her mind was filled with the face of Ahled. His eyes swam before her, and she remembered his hands, strong yet finely sculpted, as she had seen them at dinner.

“Jamilah, I should really put your hair up for bed. You will be so much more comfortable.”

“No, Nadab, please.”

Jamilah hated to have her hair bound at night. Rather, she enjoyed feeling its softness surround her as she slept and when she awoke. Nadab sighed and replaced the brush. Going around the room, she extinguished most of the lights, leaving only 2.

“Sleep, my child, and sleep with peace. I shall see you on the morrow.”

Jamilah did not respond as she stared into the mirror, and she heard her door close gently. She wandered around her room, running her fingers over the covers on her bed, and then along the curtains of her window. The fountain below offered sounds of restful peace with its bubbling water. She remembered how, as a child, she would sneak down in the middle of the hottest nights and wade in that fountain, cooling her body. And she remembered the whispered scolding Nadab would give her when she was discovered and rushed back to her room.

The city was quiet now. Most either in bed or in one of the many public houses frequented by the men of the city. Jamilah looked up at the sky filled with stars and noticed the near full moon had risen. She noticed the rest of the house was dark – all must be in bed, asleep. Determined, Jamilah walked to her door and opened it quietly. So familiar with the house, she did not need a light to guide her way, she glided down the stairs, her bare feet offering no noise, her blue robe trailing after her. She walked out into the relative coolness of the garden, now lit with the light of the moon. Walking among the night blooming jasmine, she inhaled deeply of the fragrant flower. Smiling, Jamilah walked to the fountain and sat on the ledge. Leaning forward, her hair surrounding her like a soft curtain, she trailed her fingers in the cool water of the fountain.

She was completely oblivious to the idea that a young man might be looking down at this very spot. Or that her maid might be watching her from the confines of her own quarters on the ground floor.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Looking out my window as I contemplated stepping outside, a slim shadow moved across the garden. Only the low burning light of a torch allowed me a clue to who it might be. The figure could only be Jamilah. I saw not her face but the form's grace told me so. She stood by the flowing fountain, running her fingers through the water.

Now here was a dilemma. I ran my fingers through my thick head of hair, trying to decide on the wisest course of action.

Do nothing to bring shame upon the family!

My father's words echoed in my head. Yes, it would be foolish to approach Jamilah in the evening without an escort. I watched her stand beside the fountain, cooling herself in the warm evening. Such a fine form she was, the gray moonlight affording enough to remind of that much! I recalled her voice and smile, her eyes, those dark orbs of beauty. Her dark tresses were long indeed, a testament to her innocence and devotion to her father’s authority. My young heart was drawn to her, a call so few could resist or would! In my youthful ignorance I was convinced I might succeed where others had failed. Did she not look my way more than once at dinner with that curious gaze women were oft to send my way?

Despite my better judgement, I carefully made my way out of my chamber. I wore a pair of light trousers that bloused out at the waist, narrowing at my ankles, and a thin cotton shirt that tied at the collar. I did not know the lay of Azam's home well, but I had seen an exit down the hall from my room that I believed must lead to the gardens. Walking without a sound in my sandals I passed what might have been Cloba's room. Snoring sounds emanated from the room and I breathed easier. I wasn't certain where Jamilah's father slept only that my room was off his study, and he had since retired.

I stepped outside and into the garden and walked up a cobblestone way a short distance. There was little light coming from the home, easing my nerves some. One room did appear to have a lantern flickering behind a curtain. Could that be Jamilah’s bedchamber? The gurgling fountain sat at the center of the courtyard bathed in moonlight, surrounded by flowerbeds, bushes and tall hedges. I didn't want to frighten the poor girl; she'd likely bound off like a scared doe!

From around a hedge, quietly I breathed a whisper.

“Jamilah…Jamilah…It is me, Ahled!”

 

[SexyChele]

Jamilah stared deeply into the water of the fountain, watching the ripples in the water made by fingers, as the moon appeared as a fragmented jewel reflected back to her.

Jamilah…Jamilah…It is me, Ahled!

Instinctively Jamilah looked up in the direction of the voice. Her heart quickened at the sound of his voice, knowing he was so near. She quickly looked about the garden and up at the house; however, the only light still burning was the one in her own bedroom.

She knew it would be wrong, she knew she should hurry away. And, yet, the voice compelled her to move towards him. She drew her hand from the water, and moved in the direction that she heard the voice. It seemed to come from that hedge of bushes, over there under that window.

"Ahled? Where are you?"

"Here, over here!"

Yes, the voice was coming from those bushes. Brushing past other plants, her feet feeling the coolness of the earth under the soles, she made her way towards him.

"But why are you hiding in the bushes?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she flushed with embarassment. Obviously, he was caring enough to respect her honor and dignity, and for that she was thankful.

"I - I'm sorry. It's just that you took me by surprise. What is it, Ahled? Is the heat of the night too much for you as well?"

Slowly she turned and headed in the direction of the sycamore tree in the corner of the garden. It stood in shadows, away from any eyes that might still be about, casually looking outwards. Jamilah flushed slightly, hoping Ahled would not think her forward. Indeed, she could understand herself at the moment, yet she did not care.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

I was relieved to see that Jamilah wasn't a flighty, skittish girl. I had little patience for those, and Jamilah seemed to be of strong character. Her nervousness did show through though as she looked up to the house. Who knew better the dangers of our evening liaison than the daughter of Azam Mohlam?

What is it, Ahled? Is the heat of the night too much for you as well?

"It is, though I rode all day to reach Cordoba I am restless." I said quietly and followed her to the relative safety beneath a large sycamore tree. Its thick branches spread out and even reached over the partitioning wall of the estate grounds. The earth was softer underneath my sandals, the ground not baked in the sun afforded by the shade.

My eyes still were adjusting to the darkness and all I could make out of Jamilah was her form and those lovely eyes. I longed to say something, something interesting or profound, though each idea I had I discarded as awkward and foolish. How this young woman made me feel! Like a love stricken boy in his youth!

"Something you said tonight at dinner...I think it is sad you've not seen more of Cordoba. I thought Seville was beautiful, then I see Cordoba! The bazaars and coffee shops along the streets, so full of life. Have you seen the gardens? They are beautiful indeed!" As was my manner my hands moved with my words, my palm upraised beside me as I mentioned the city.

We spoke in hushed tones; my eyes never left Jamilah's. I knew not how to proceed. I did not want to be overbearing, yet I sensed Jamilah was not unlike a caged lioness, pacing and pawing at her confines. She might just need a little encouragement to take a risk, to leap out into the world of adult men and women.

 

[SexyChele]

As he spoke, Ahled's hands moved gracefully and Jamilah's eyes followed them. Although she could not make out his eyes in the darkness, she knew they must be shining dark and full of life as he described the city he so obviously enjoyed. As he concluded, Jamilah felt his eyes boring into her form, awaiting an answer.

Jamilah's body was crackling with tension. Everything he spoke about the city made it seem alive and vibrant - and so much of what she had not experienced behind the alabaster walls of her father's garden.

"Ahled, you make the city of Cordoba sound magical! It is difficult to think you've only been in this city such a short period of time!" Jamilah whispered into the darkness.

"But, Jamilah - it is such a sight that all should see it!"

"Yes, I have had glimpses when I have gone out with Nadab on occasion. But my father says that once I am a married woman, then my husband will show me the sights that abound in the city. Until then I must await."

Tears filled Jamilah's eyes, and she was thankful for the darkness that could cover her raw emotion and her fear. For she despared of ever having a husband and that she would be locked securely behind the walls of her father's house until she was too old to care.

But she did care, and she did want to see all the things Ahled spoke of. She did not know if Ahled could see her tears, but he certainly must hear them in her voice as she spoke.

"It must be wonderful to be a man, to be able to come and go as one pleases. Sometimes I wish Allah had seen fit to give my father a son rather than a daughter. But, who is to question God?"

Jamilah sighed heavily and tried to smile into the dark. She reached out and gently touched the arm of the handsome stranger who stood before her.

"You know, Ahled, my father leaves for Valencia tomorrow afternoon to consult with the man who brings goods from the ports of the east. I imagine in the time of his absence, it would afford you many opportunities to explore the fair city of Cordoba."

Jamilah glanced at the house as they spoke, always expecting more lights to appear. She had the uneasy feeling they were watched - even at this late hour of the night.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Our exchange was hushed beneath the cover of the over hanging boughs. I was filled with joy at the opportunity to speak and converse with Jamilah.

It must be wonderful to be a man, to be able to come and go as one pleases. Sometimes I wish Allah had seen fit to give my father a son rather than a daughter. But, who is to question God?

Jamilah's voice saddened and it was obvious to me she yearned to be free of her father's home. Surely she must have a line of suitors reaching as far as the eye can see! Her father must be very particular, not a surprise considering his exacting nature.

Jamilah's touch on my arm was electrifying! Smoothly I clasped her hand in mine before me as I listened to her.

You know, Ahled, my father leaves for Valencia tomorrow afternoon to consult with the man who brings goods from the ports of the east. I imagine in the time of his absence, it would afford you many opportunities to explore the fair city of Cordoba.


"Yes, your father spoke to me of that. I have some figures to work up in the morning that your father and I will go over. But I understand the afternoon will be mine to do with as I please. I fear those days will soon be short lived!"

"Maybe your maid could act as your chaperone and we could see Cordoba together!"

I was ashamed at my ignorance and lack of couth. Of course she wouldn't be able to join me, her father would never allow it!

My eyes were adjusting to the night and more of Jamilah came into view. She was absolutely ravishing in the gray shadows. She had those lips that spoke to all men, saying: "Kiss me". I hadn't realized it but my thumb caressed the back of her hand, she had such smooth soft skin. While I attempted to wrestle my emotions into submission I succeeded not and my young heart was soon spiraling out of control!

 

[SexyChele]

The feel of his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand, caused shivers to run through Jamilah. Very few men had taken such liberties with her - and none had done what he did now. Jamilah held her breath, willing him not to stop. She felt her body drawn to him, felt that he might be the strength that she could rest her spirit on.

At his words of having Nadab accompany them through the streets of Cordoba, Jamilah's eyes flashed in the moonlight.

"Nadab is my father's agent, I fear. She obeys him more than she does me, most of the time. If my father will not allow me to do something, I doubt Nadab would cross him."

Jamilah tried to still her racing heart. He wanted to be with her! He wished to share the delights of the city with her, to show her things she'd only heard about or imagined. Yet, how was she to escape the house?

An idea suddenly came to her -

"Nadab goes with the cook tomorrow for it is market day. She shall be gone most of the day, until almost dinner."

Jamilah held her breath, because she did not want Ahled to think her overly forward. No, that would never do.

"When I was younger, still a child really, I would sneak out when Nadab had left, and venture into some of the streets. I haven't done that since a child, but -"

Jamilah looked down, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She felt a slight pressure on her hand, and looked up into the dark eyes of Ahled. He was smiling at her. She suddenly got the feeling of a wondrous adventure before her! She placed her hand over his, when sudden movement caught her eye. Nadab had entered the garden and was searching among the bushes! Obviously, Nadab knew she had gone missing, and knew where to find her.

Jamilah glanced at Ahled, "Our time is short, I'm afraid, for look! Nadab has discovered my absence."

Holding his hand in both of hers, Jamilah began to move away.

"Meet me here, under this tree, on the morrow at noon." As soon as her words left her lips, she realized how brazen she had just been.

As Ahled opened his lips to speak, they both hear her

"Jamilah? Jamilah! Are you here, child!" Nadab whispered into the night.

"Tomorrow, noon." Ahled managed to get out before Jamilah gave hsi hand a squeezed and turned to go.

"Wait until we are gone 10 minutes before you leave here," was the only thing Jamilah could say.

She walked briskly from the shadows, whispered back to Nadab.

"Over here, you foolish woman! Do you wish to wake the entire house? I could not sleep, so I came out here to soothe my mind."

Nadab grunted at this poor excuse, then grabbed Jamilah roughly by the arm. Jamilah watched carefully as Nadab turned toward the sycamore tree and stared into the shadows. Jamilah felt her heart beat faster. If Nadab discovered Ahled, she would certainly tell her father.

"Come, Nadab, why do you wait? Do you think the shadows are alive?" Jamilah laughed a small giggle, trying to sound nonchalant.

Nadab finally gave up her search and went with Jamilah to her room. Turning back the bed, and helping Jamilah to remove her robe, Nadab let Jamilah alone. Standing by her window, Jamilah looked down into the garden, just in time to see the shadow leap from the sycamore tree to the path and then inside the house.

She made her way back to her bed and lay down. But she knew sleep would allude her, for her heart raced at the thought of the next afternoon.

 

[Zamdrist]

"Meet me here, under this tree, on the morrow at noon."

My heart sang with joy at Jamilah's words. Our hands slipped apart as she answered Nadab's beckoning call. I looked down at my now empty hands and felt a pang of sorrow. I must soon experience again her touch and softness!

Carefully I slipped back further into the shadows of the tree, then stood perfectly still as Nadab peered in my direction. I could only hope the old woman's eyes would fail her.

Luck, as it often was, appeared to be with me as Nadab turned away with a shrug. I followed Jamilah's wise suggestion and waited a period of time before I made my way out of the shadows and back into my quarters.

Lying in my bed I could not find sleep quickly nor chase the image of Jamilah from my mind. Over and over her words rang through me: "Meet me here, under this tree, on the morrow at noon."

Allah save me! How I wanted to touch and savor every inch of that lovely woman! Her skin was so soft and fine. I dreamt of running my fingers through her hair, surely as fine as any silk. I envisioned her responding to my touch, her lips parting in a kiss.

I felt my manhood rise in response. I must sleep! Allah save us both tomorrow, for I fear we may shame you!

The morning came quickly and I arose at the sound of Cloba fussing about in my chamber.

"Morning young sir. I'll leave you to dress, here is a basin for you to wash up."

I sat up on the edge of my bed and thanked him.

"We shall have breakfast on the patio just outside, come out there when you are ready." Said Cloba, pointing out my window as he departed.

Having washed, dressed and a bite of breakfast with Cloba my day begun with Azam and his tutelage of me in the finer points of being a merchant. We spoke outside on the patio; mostly I listened and nodded with interest at his lecturing tones. My mind was not there and I knew he sensed it. I could barely focus for my thoughts drifted to Jamilah and our day to come.

Azam gave me a list of figures to calculate and left me. Mathematics was an important part of the mercantile trade and one must be able to balance their accounts. In the brightening morning I sat down to my tasks and tried to concentrate, however futile it was.

 

[SexyChele]

Sleep alluded Jamilah, and she tossed upon her bed. She gazed out the window, and watched the streak of light from the moon move across the floor of her room. Many times she closed her eyes, and each time excitement opened them. Tomorrow. The sycamore tree. She would see the city!

Then the thought crossed her mind. What if Ahled would think her unvirtuous? She had been bold to suggest he meet her - and with a lack of escort or chaparone! Perhaps he would think less of her, one of the women that Nadab often alluded to but never described in detail except to say that Jamilah should not be one. What if tomorrow came and she waited beneath the sycamore tree alone? Her cheeks flushed crimson in the dark, thinking of the fool she might have made of herself in her brazen announcement.

Finally, towards dawn, Jamilah's eyes closed, and her body rested. When Nadab roused her the next morn, Jamilah could tell it was already late.

"Ha! That's what you get for roaming around in the garden so late! Now, you've missed breakfast, and the potential to see your father off before he leaves!"

Jamilah bounded from her bed, pulling the nightdress over her head as she went.

"Now, now, my child! Your father will leave within the hour and that is enough time to make you presentable!"

Jamilah bit her lip as Nadab washed her body with warm water, then dried her skin to a healthy glow. Standing still, Jamilah waited as Nadab wrapped her body in two underdresses, then topped it off with an overdress of dark scarlet, bound at the hips by a golden cord. Brushing out Jamilah's hair, Nadab clucked at the idea that a girl should sleep with her unbound and create such tangles to be brushed out. But Jamilah barely paid Nadab any mind. Even when Nadab pulled at her hair more than usual while braiding, Ahled's face swam before her eyes.

Attaching the lower veil the constiuted her wimple, Jamilah sighed.

"Must I really wear this, Nadab? I can see no reason for it!"

"It is for modesty's sake! How many times must we go over this, child? A man who is not your husband should only be allowed to view your face and hands. When you are properly wed, then you may show your neck and upper chest - and not before!"

Jamilah scowled slightly, but waited patiently as Nadab attached her veil and secured it with a circlet of gold to match the trim of her over dress. Sliding her feet into soft leather slippers, Jamilah scurried from the room, eager to see not only her beloved father, but also Ahled.

In the great entry way, her father was giving last minute instructions to the head servant. Looking around quickly, Jamilah could not see Ahled, and she wondered where he was. When her father saw her, he lifted up his hands and she walked into his arms.

"Ah, my flower! You I shall miss more than anything else! Now, listen to Nadab, take care to learn your lessons. I shall return as soon as I can and with a surprise for you, no doubt!"

She smiled at her father's' words - the words he had always told her everytime he would travel and leave her alone in this house. He kissed her forehead as she wished him safe journey, and then he hurried out the door to his horse.

Jamilah turned, a flush on her cheeks, and met the eyes of Nadab. A scowl crossed the old woman's face, just as her arms crossed her chest.

"Now, don't think that because your father is not here that you can escape your lessons, Jamilah. You must still be dilligent with them!"

"Oh yes, Nadab! I shall! Only - it's just a beautiful day, I think I would rather go to the garden and refresh in the sound of the fountain. I promise I shall tend to things anon!"

Before Nadab could answer, Jamilah had already fled through the door, and was met with the lush fragrance of the flowers in the garden. She ran her fingers lightly over several blooms, and stopped a moment at the fountain to dip her fingers into the cool water.

She wandered to the sycamore tree, and felt a twinge of sadness that Ahled was not yet there. Would he think her forward? Would he not show, out of respect for her father? She heard voices from the house, and knew Nadab was arguing with the cook on what purchases needed to be made. Eventually, the voices died down, and Jamilah knew they left for the market.

Ahled was still nowhere to be found, and Jamilah began to wonder if she had made a mistake. What if he watched her from a window, laughing at her indiscretion? She would be humiliated. She turned her back to the house, and leaned forward to concentrate on the jasmine bush before her, studing the beauty of the flower that had bloomed just that morning.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

Eventually I did focus my concentration upon the figures before me. With genuine earnest I tackled each task given to me. So engrossed was I that it was later in the morning until I realized Cloba had left me an iced refreshment; now warmed from sitting in the sun. I swallowed the drink in two gulps, unaware how thirsty I had become. It was curious, I noted how quiet the estate had become, it seemed only Cloba and I was about the home.

Cloba, always the dedicated servant, brought me lunch, which I devoured with the same vigor as I had my tasks spread out on the table. As I was finishing my lunch it then dawned on me that Jamilah must already be waiting for me beneath the sycamore!

Foolish man!

Berating myself I gathered my work in a neat pile and bade Cloba to keep them safe. With a quick gesture of thanks I hastily made my way across the garden proper, and towards the sycamore. My eyes searched for the beauty I dreamt upon all night, the subject of my youthful desires.

"Jamilah, here I am. Jamilah!" I said in a tone louder than I had wished.

I came upon Jamilah, a dreamy expression on her face, as she seemed to be examining a flowery jasmine bush. What thoughts were going through her, was she upset I did not come more quickly than I had? Was she sad or sorrowful? Now standing immediately beside Jamilah, her eyes pulled away from the flower to turn her gaze up and into my expectant eyes.

I was stricken. Those dreamy pools of colorful expression searched my eyes. It was then I knew, knew that this flower of a woman felt as I did. Our faces were so close; it felt natural, natural to want to touch her lips with mine. I had not known my hand rested on her waist, but I did when I felt her lean against it for support. Though time seemed to slow, the moment was all too brief, we were left with our foreheads touching, sharing a quiet and special moment.

"Let us go now while we have the time..."

Jamilah took my hand, hers soft and slim mine big and strong in hers. She led me down the back wall of her Father's estate to a simple postern gate. The portal was not often used apparently and Jamilah could not open it. Gladly I stepped forward and leaned my shoulder into the wood exit, pushing it open with relative ease. We exited the grounds of her father’s estate and into an alley. While an alley is no place for a lady of Jamilah's station, I was comforted knowing we were not in a more seedy part of Cordoba.

I left liberated now not within the confines of my mentor's domain and by the expression on Jamilah, she too seemed to have shed the burdens of her home and her father's rule. We could not suppress the smiles on our face or the relived laughter that escaped us.

Taking the lead, our hands clasped in each other's I l we left the alley and left behind the confines and rigidity of the home. Now we could be free, if for awhile. Now we could experience the beauties of Cordoba, and possibly enjoy each other's company on a more personal level.

 

[SexyChele]

Jamilah's heart skipped a beat when she heard his voice and turned to find him standing before her. As she lead them through the garden to the seldom used gate, her heart thudded in her chest, and she cautiously looked back towards the house to determine if anyone had seen her.

As they stepped into the alleyway and then onto the street, Jamilah was shocked when Ahled took her hand in hers. She had never before touched a man other than her father, and the warmth of Ahled's hand thrilled her. Jamilah quickly looked about, afraid of meeting some one who would know her and report her behavior to her father. She recognized no one, and as they moved farther from her father's home, Jamilah began to relax.

She found she had to hurry to keep up with Ahled, and had to hold up her skirts so she would not trip on the uneven cobblestones in the street. Yet, all around her, Jamilah was amazed. People walking back and forth - from the very richest to the very poorest in society. The shops brimmed over with their wares of cloth, spices, and books. The air was scented with a mixture of flowers in bloom and foods being cooked at various inns throughout the city. The sun shone bright, yet the air was not unbearably hot.

As Jamilah walked next to Ahled, she felt the stirrings of a slight Spring breeze ruffling the veil that covered her hair and the whimple that securely prevented the world from viewing her long, graceful neck. She delighted in the scents, colors, and warmth of the city.

Jamilah had not idea where Ahled intended on going, but she was happy - happy to be with him, happy to be walking the streets of the city, happy not to have a care.

And then she saw him - one of her father's business associates who had tried the year before to strike a marriage deal for her hand and his son. He was talking to some one she did not recognize, but Jamilah knew he was still riled that her father had refused his request that his son marry Jamilah and would look forward for an opportunity to bring shame to her father.

Stopping suddenly, frozen in her tracks, she stared wide-eyed at the approaching man. Ahled jerked to a stop and turned to her.

"Jamilah? What is it? What is wrong?"

"That man, the big one there, see? He knows my father and he knows me. Seeing me here - with you - will bring shame to our house!"

"Quick! Come with me, Jamilah!"

Jamilah had no idea where Ahled was heading to, but she followed him, hoping she had not been seen.

 

[Zamdrist]

Ahled

"Quick! Come with me, Jamilah!"

I pulled Jamilah with me and darted into an alley, a small side street really. Out the corner of my eye I could see that the man turned at my exclamation. Was it in recognition? We sprinted down the alley and from the scuffle of heavy boots behind us, it was clear that we had drawn attention. But had Jamilah been recognized behind the trappings of a young Muslim woman?

We did not wait to find out. With abandon I followed a zigzag course through the alleyways of Cordoba, without a concern as to the direction or an understanding of where we had come from. Whitewashed buildings blurred by as we ran. More than once we had to navigate around clusters of people or livestock. At one point a stack of wooden cages obstructed our path. There was not time to stop and find another path, I plowed through the obstruction clearing a way for Jamilah, in tow. Crashing through the cages, chickens burst forth in a flurry of white feathers and noisy squawking. Their owner was none happier either throwing curses our direction as we fled further down the alley.

After two more turns I dared a look back, and was relieved to see we were no longer being followed. Jamilah and I slowed our pace and stopped. I listened for the sounds of our pursuers but heard none. We stood in the alley, catching our breath; me bent at the waist with my hands on my knees.

I looked up at Jamilah to see her smiling broadly at me, a cat's grin on her face. She then reached up to pluck a white chicken feather from atop my head, laughing and failing to suppress her giggles. Annoyed I brushed the crown of chicken feathers from my head, sending them floating away in a breeze, only to rain over Jamilah. We both laughed then, the laugh of carefree youth.

A movement caught my eye to one side. We were no longer in the affluent area of Cordoba; this appeared to be a much less wealthy section of the city. The buildings along one side were ill painted, chipped and scored from weather and age. A wall along the other side ran all the way down the length of the alley. From behind a stack of rotting, wooden barrels appeared two miscreant fellows in poor attire. Their eyes gleamed brightly at us, apparently sensing vulnerable prey. Our laughter was cut short and the seriousness of our situation quickly dawned upon us. One of the thugs drew a long knife from beneath his coat, a wicked looking blade, if poorly kept. I heard Jamilah take a sharp intake of air in fright. With one arm I guided her back, behind me fully intending to protect her with my life. I drew a blade from my belt a slender short sword. Unfortunately my sword was more ornamental than streetwise and would not withstand a prolonged battle. The armed thug drew closer; his cohort edged his way around, meaning to get behind me, and to Jamilah.

“What rich pretties we have here!” Croaked the armed thug.

“Keep back you lice ridden vermin!” I shouted boldly.

“What a sweet treat that princess would make!” Slurred the second thug, wiggling his grubby fingers suggestively. I could feel Jamilah cringing in fear, drawing closer to me.

The thug before me moved closer yet, and I knew I had to act before they did and eliminate any surprise. With speed honed from training I leapt forward sword raised. With a deft flick of my wrist I slashed the light sword across and laid open the thug’s cheek. He howled in pain and spun about, his hand covering his bloodied face. I quickly turned my attention back to the circling thug. Fortunately my speed had left him no option but to raise his hands in fear, his eyes wide in surprise. Taking Jamilah’s arm I lead her around the thugs and we backed off, my sword pointed out in their direction, my eyes never leaving them. We moved a distance back, safely from the pair.

“Now! Let’s run!” I said, taking Jamilah’s hand and leading her away from the dangerous situation.

We ran again, leaving the thugs far behind and further into Cordoba. We reached what appeared to by a less seedy area of the city; the wall along the alley was richly done in stone latticework. An opening lead into what seemed to be a public garden. The sun still shined very brightly in the sky and Jamilah and I sought shade beneath one of the many trees of the garden. We rested upon an iron wrought, backed bench and once again, caught our breathe. As my lungs ceased their heaving I looked about and realized what a beautiful garden we had found ourselves in. A few people were about, sitting as we were, or strolling along the pathways admiring the multicolored flowers and sculptured bushes. I turned my eyes upon Jamilah and admired her beauty, which only shone more brightly than any flower; her face was slightly flushed pink from our running.