Chapter One: Part I

If you are come to the end
in the stillness of the battlefiield
and the struggle for peace
takes not a little suffering,
how much more a solitary throne?

–Azalaïs de Narbona, Queen of Spaña, writings from the Fourth Roman War[1]

Abd ar-Rahman watched from the beach as Temam’s men lifted the wrapped body of Salim over the side of the dhow. Three of them slogged through the surf careful to make sure no water soaked the wrappings around his compatriot. The false dawn of the sky was slowly being replaced by the light that would be the true rising of the sun in the east, from the direction of his homeland. Behind them Bedr was also making his way up the beach with the few possessions they had.

“Where are we?” he said to Temam turning to look up the beach and to the shoreline. “There is nothing here.”

“The town is several miles over, I thought it best not to bring you ashore into the middle of the docks with a comrade already dead,” he answered. “To the west lies Mālaqah but it is best that we keep your whereabouts secret from the governor for now. There are expectations that the Zaragozans will revolt and if they do, we can use it to our advantage once he goes to put down the insurrection. For now we can place you safely in the town.”

The prince nodded. “As soon as we have treated Salim as he deserves we will begin.”

“There is no time to spare, my prince,” Temam urged him quietly. “ There is no time to mourn beforehand, or wash him or make a proper kafan.”

He clenched his left hand into a fist and it was only by a force of will that he relaxed it. “I can at least say the salat for him,” he answered roughly. “I failed in my duty to keep him with me and see us through to our victory, I cannot fail in this last duty for him.”

Temam looked a little dismayed but said nothing while Abd ar-Rahman went over to where Temam’s men were.

“Bedr, help me,” he said after looking at the shrouded form for a moment.

Taking the body from the others, Abd ar-Rahman and Beder carefully turned it to qibla. Meanwhile, Temmam called his men over and spoke to them quietly. They went up a little ways from the shoreline into the more solid ground while one went back to the boat to gather some other tools. Bedr and the prince carefully took the body up the beach to them and held the shrouded body as the men began to dig.

One dead already for me, he thought. We only just arrived but I led him to his death. He felt a flash of grief for Salim but then..

…no there are two.

*********

The last scenes in Damascus were a horror.

When the news of the approach of the Abbasids were known, all of Damascus had gone into an uproar and in accordance with the messengers sent by Al-Saffah, they began a search for all the Umayyads so they could hand them over to save themselves. He had been warned a short time before and gathered up his brother and his son Sulemeyn and tried to flee but they were trapped and his brother had fallen trying to save Sulemeyn, shielding the boy with his body as he was hacked to pieces. He drew his sword and would have died fighting to reach the body of his son against the mob until his arms had forgotten strength and his lungs air. It was only when Bedr returned with Umniyah and Salim that he consented to leave. He mastered himself as he looked into the yes of his sister and they went out from the city, escaping in the confusion as a general riot began. They fled into the desert through the night. It was moonless, and stars glittered above them like diamonds on the dreaded banner of Abbas. He didn’t know when they stopped. There was no spring, only the water they brought with them. Just himself, Salim, Bedr and Umniyah his only living sister.[2]

He fell to his knees in the sand, his body all over blood and letting the sword fall from him while he covered his face with his hands to hold back a lamentation. When he could content himself with weeping quietly he pulled himself up to sit on the sand while Umniyah did the same on a rock nearby. Her clothing was filthy and her head scarf was torn beyond use. He saw her grab it and hurl it to the ground as she hung her head letting the hair hide her face. But it could not hide the blood already on it and the rest of her. In those last moments she had taken up a weapon to help win their way free and shown herself able to handle a knife and even lift a sword though not well. She was shaking and Bedr threw his own coat around her, covering her hair and the rest of her soiled clothes.

He did not know what to do, the pain was so great. He sat there feeling completely numb while Salim stood staring at maybe the last of the Beni Umayya.

“Get up,” Salim said angrily.

Abd ar-Rahman looked up to see the other man striding toward him.

“I said get up!” Salim snarled.

When he did not rise fast enough, Salim pulled him to his feet then struck him with his fist so quickly that Abd ar-Rahman did not see it coming. The prince staggered back dropping his sword but then anger surged up, breaking through the ice around his heart. He clenched hands into fists and took a step towards Salim.

“Stop it!” Umniyah shouted at him. “What good does it do!?”

And it did stop him, he stood staring at Salim.

“Thank you,” he said grudgingly and the other man nodded. “I… have nothing, but thank you.”

“What do you want?” Salim had asked him putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Revenge,” he said at once. The word ignited something in him, a fire much more comforting than the surge of energy that had raced through him in the escape.

“Then you do not want enough!” Salim said firmly. “How will you take it? Will you challenge Al-Saffah to a duel? Will you lead the broken armies to victory? Will you storm Damascus alone or with the two of us?” he said with a gesture to the silent Bedr.

“Then what would you have me do?” he answered bitterly. “Hide in the deserts and be a nomad? I would be master of where I stood then.”

“No different than now,” Umniyah said. “The same as any of the rest of us my brother. As you said, we have nothing. Maybe it would have been better to surrender.”

“No,” he said firmly. He knew that much, maybe the only thing. He bent to pick up his sword. “Don’t you want revenge too? What if we are the last?”

“I want to live,” she said standing up to him. She approached his height which was remarkable and put her face close to his. Already the eye Salim had hit was swelling shut and his head was still ringing from the blow a little. “My brother I am yours to use, but I am not going to throw my life away in a useless assault on the sons of Abbas. Don’t you dare go to Harran.”

Harran and the Jazira, where the last elements of their supporters here were rallying with whatever family members they could find, trying to make a final stand.

“You know me well.”

“It is because we are the same,” she said turning her face away. She gracefully accepted water from Bedr.

“If your goal is revenge, my prince,” Salim said, “Then think how best to achieve it. Why do you think we stayed with you? Is it because we desire to be hunted when we could hand you over as any of the others. Think what your head would be worth.”

“Are you to set upon me?” he asked wearily. He drew back but did not raise his sword.

“My life would be simpler then,” he said, “ but I could no more do that than I could fly.”

“We are hardy men, and a woman,” Bedr said. “But you’ll surely need other allies.”

“…and armies,” Umniyah said.

“You too?” Abd ar-Rahman wondered.

“Brother, I warned you against Harran because it is in my heart. I wish to strike back but who will remember us if we die that way? Al-Saffah’s poets? If I am to advise you, then I counsel a different way.”

He looked around at each in turn, “If this is my court, then so be it but we must think.”

They did not stop of course. They could not afford to, but they did talk and think and walk as the madness of the last hours in Damascus lifted from Abd ar-Rahman and his compatriots. With Salim, Badr and his sister Umniyah he took thought that night to what to do. They chose to make for Egypt via Palestine instead of Harran. As they had known, it was soon overrun and a price was put on the heads of any member of the Beni Umayya. In particular the major branches of the line were sought, noticeable because of the red tint to their hair that both he and his sister bore.

But while they hid in Palestine by those few who cared for his family, word came that he was being sought by the Egyptian governor to be handed over to the Abbasids for their own preservation. Thus they risked a dangerous trek across Egypt hiding, always hiding lest anyone spy them out until they left and entered the lands of Ifriqiya.

Here in the Maghreb, his mother’s blood proved to be a blessing for he was recognized as at least part Berber, and not simply killed or driven off. The time he had spent with his mother was beneficial as well in that he knew the Berber customs and their language, and they traveled west until they approached the domains of Ibn Habib who was the leader of the his mother’s people the Nafza, in the west of the land.

_________________________________________
Footnotes for Chapter One: Part I

[1]Character from the ongoing timeline, inspired by the Azalais de Porcairagues.
[2]Historically, Abd ar-Rahman and his family fled to the Jazira for some time. It was when his younger brother was captured and put to death that he escaped, swimming the Euphrates with his son while Bedr (and in some versions Salim) and his sister went on ahead. This change of events is why he goes west a little earlier than OTL. There is no information on what happened to Sulameyn–after surviving the Euphrates, he disappears from the narrative.

Author’s  Notes:

In the quoted bits that lead off each chapter I’ll hint at things that happened later on that are somewhat relevant or discuss the events of the chapter. I would hope to finish chapter one by the end of the year. There are other important things happening in my life right now but my optimistic view is that after chapter, I can produce 1 chapter per month. Chapters will probably be split up into several parts (this is 1 of 3) for easier digesting. So basically 3 updates a month.

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