Tariq Ali - Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree

If you want to reach me, and I insist you let me know when your first child is born, the best way is to send a message to our uncle in Gharnata. And one more thing, Hind. I know that from now till I die, I will weep for my dead brother and our parents every day. No mask I wear can change that in me.

Your brother,

Zuhayr.

The Dwarf had not been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours. When dawn finally came he rose and left the room for his ablutions. When he returned, Zuhayr was sitting up in bed, looking at the morning light coming through the window.

‘Peace be upon you, old friend.’

The Dwarf looked at him in horror. Overnight, Zuhayr’s hair had turned white. Nothing was said. Zuhayr had noticed the box containing Yazid’s chess pieces amongst the Dwarfs belongings.

‘He left them with me when he went up to see if he could find the Lady Zubayda.’ The Dwarf began to weep. ‘I thought the Lady Hind might like them for her children.’

Zuhayr smiled, biting back the tears.

An hour later, the Dwarf had embarked on a merchant vessel. Zuhayr was on the shore, waving farewell.

‘Allah protect you, Zuhayr al-Fahl!’ the Dwarf shouted in his old voice.

‘He never does,’ Zuhayr told himself.

TWENTY YEARS LATER, THE victor of al-Hudayl, now at the height of his powers and universally regarded as one of the most experienced military leaders of the Catholic kingdom of Spain, disembarked from his battleship on a shore thousands of miles away from his native land. He strapped on the old helmet which he had never changed, though he had been presented with two made from pure silver. In addition, he now wore a beard, whose redness was the cause of many a ribald jest. His two aides, now captains in their own right, had accompanied him on this mission.

The expedition travelled for many weeks through marshes and thick forests. When he reached his destination, the captain was greeted by ambassadors of the local ruler, attired in robes of the most unexpected colours. Gifts were exchanged. Then he was escorted to the palace of the king.

The city was built on water. Not even in his dreams had the captain imagined it could be anything like this. Boats ferried people from one part of the city to another.

‘Do you know what they call this remarkable place?’ he asked, to test his aide, as the boat carrying them docked at the palace.

‘Tenochtitlan is the name of the city and Moctezuma is the king.’

‘Much wealth went into its construction,’ said the captain.

‘They are a very rich nation, Captain Cortes,’ came the reply.

The captain smiled.

Abu

Father

Ama

Nurse

al-Andalus

Moorish Spain

al-Hama

Alhama

al-Hamra

the Alhambra

al-Jazira

Algeciras

al-Mariya

Almeria

al-Qahira

Cairo

bab

gate

Balansiya

Valencia

Dimashk

Damascus

faqih

religious scholars or experts

funduq

hostels for travelling merchants

Gharnata

Granada

hadith

sayings of the Prophet Mohammed

hammam

public baths

Iblis

devil; leader of the fallen angels

Ishbiliya

Seville

Iskanderiya

Alexandria

jihad

holy war

Kashtalla

Castile

khutba

Friday sermon

madresseh

religious schools

Malaka

Malaga

maristan

hospital/asylum for the sick and the insane

qadi

magistrate

Qurtuba

Cordoba

riwaq

students’ quarters

Rumi

Roman

Sarakusta

Zaragoza

Tanja

Tangier

Tulaytula

Toledo

Ummi

Mother

zajal

popular strophic poems composed impromptu in the colloquial Arabic of al-Andalus and handed down orally since the tenth century

Tariq Ali is a novelist, journalist, and filmmaker. His many books include The Clash of Fundamentalisms: Crusades, Jihads and Modernity; Bush in Babylon: The Recolonization of Iraq; Conversations with Edward Said; Street Fighting Years: An Autobiography of the Sixties ; and the novels of the Islam Quintet. He is the coauthor of On History: Tariq Ali and Oliver Stone in Conversation and an editor of the New Left Review , and he writes for the London Review of Books and the Guardian . Ali lives in London.