Page 36 of A String of Silver Beads (The Moroccan Empire #1)

T he almond trees come into blossom as our two bellies swell.

Zaynab’s seems larger, for her voluminous and loosely worn robes add to its size.

My own robes, shaped to my body with brooches and a belt, make my belly seem a little smaller, although I am sure that I am due a full month before her, a secret only she and I share.

While I begin to feel better, Zaynab seems to continue with her sickness, day after day. I do not know how she can stand it.

***

The camp is happy and busy. Now that Yusuf has official command of the army, he is ready to swell its ranks beyond all imagining. A strong army will allow him to move swiftly as he goes north, making battles both brief and victorious.

Two thousand black slaves are added to the troops, fighting men, who quickly learn the fighting style required by Yusuf.

The men train day and night on the plains near Murakush.

From Al-Andalusia he brings two hundred and fifty men to whom he gives horses.

These form his own personal guard, reflecting his new importance.

All this costs money, of course. He levies a tax on the Jews living within his own jurisdiction. Besides this he also has taxes from the traders who journey the trading routes, as his men take more and more control of such stretches of land and can offer protection.

The size of the main army now allows him to send out small parts of it to the surrounding areas, under the command of men close to him.

These go to different tribal areas and either negotiate alliances or conquer them.

The choice is theirs. Many choose to recognise Yusuf’s authority without engaging in debilitating battles.

In this way Yusuf gains the region of Salé where the tribes submit quickly, not wishing to take on the might of the new army, of which by now all have heard.

Yusuf’s position is very strong. If a tribe wishes to fight the smaller army sent out to them, they know that a victory for them will only result in a far larger army being dispatched to finish them off.

Those tribes who submit, however, will come under Yusuf’s protection, which is worth their allegiance.

The first real assault on the north comes when an army is sent to the city of Meknes.

It is close to Fes, which has always been an important target in Yusuf’s plan.

The amir of Meknes, Al-Khayr bin Khazar az-Zanati, is offered mercy if he will surrender without fighting.

Although his people react with anger and suggest he fight back and dispel not just the army but Yusuf and all his men and their mission from the land, the amir is a clever man who can see that this is a growing impossibility.

Yusuf is simply becoming too strong and winning over too many allies.

Instead, he settles for negotiation, offering to take his own key people and decamp to a new settlement, leaving the city free for occupation by the army, who enter it peacefully.

The fallen amir visits us in Murakush, where Yusuf greets him with great honour and kindness and gives him permission to remain in the region of Meknes for the rest of his life.

Meknes is an important victory for Yusuf. It is hardly any distance from Fes, and now he turns his attention to fortifying the army in Meknes so that in due course he can order them to take Fes. His territory is growing almost daily.

***

Yusuf does not head up these armies himself, for he prefers to remain in Murakush and develop not only the city but control his conquests, setting up administrative centres in each of his conquered areas.

They will report back to him, collect taxes and recruit more men.

He still oversees the training of new recruits, of primary importance in developing a coherent army.

Now Murakush begins to develop like a real city.

An outer wall is built with high ramparts patrolled by soldiers.

More and more buildings spring up, their apricot-coloured mud walls glowing in the first and last rays of the spring sun, shining in the full heat of the day.

No longer is it a chaotic sprawl of tents, a garrison for soldiers.

Now come the first houses for the generals and their families, for the officers.

There are the first buildings for administration.

Huge water tanks are dug so that the city can have water brought to it more easily, for baths and irrigation.

Gardens are built to supply food to the ever-growing population.

Already many palms are beginning to grow in a great grove outside the city walls and it is jokingly said that they come from all the dates that the soldiers ate when they first came here after sacking Aghmat, that where the soldiers spat the stones, palms sprung up.

The first quarters begin to develop; a few buildings, little streets between them, the first communal ovens built, one for each quarter.

They begin to have everything that a real city would have – the steamy hammams where all can become clean, small shops selling necessities for when the souk is not open.

Qur’anic schools begin to teach, informal at first, but growing larger.

Many of the men recently recruited into the army have no understanding of Islam, and Yusuf insists that they should be taught as well as the many children who now make the city noisy with laughter.

The souk grows ever larger as the city’s population grows and becomes more demanding.

Now there is need for jewellery, for perfumes, for baskets, pots, carved wood, cloth, rugs, good leather and shoes.

There is demand for more and better food; some luxury after the early days of camp life when the food was simple.

Now the people have a taste for sweet treats, for fruits, fish and seafood from the coast, more herbs and spices.

The herb seller seems to have stopped plying her trade, leaving it to the local farmers and traders who have set up permanent stalls. I no longer see her in her usual place.

Metalworkers join the weapon-makers, beating out not just swords and daggers, but great brass and copper dishes, trays and jugs to satisfy the families now expanding their kitchens and the amount of food they must provide.

Their part of the city is hurtful to the ears; the great hammers rising and falling, children accidentally scattering brass dishes as they run past and the shouts of the craftsmen at the small disappearing legs.

Now other craftsmen come, their skills suddenly in demand as the builders complete their work.

Expert carvers begin their work on the plasterwork inside the houses of the more important people.

Tiny intricate designs are worked ceaselessly into wall after wall, elaborate twirls and curls, stylised calligraphy.

Never-ending geometric repetitions are shaped, the white dust from the work covering the men until they look like beings from the other world.

The painters sit over wooden panels for doors and ceilings, chests and balconies, painting in vivid colours what the plasterworkers carve in pure white.

More flowers, leaves, great arches and circles, squares, triangles.

Greens and oranges, gold and blue; the panels slowly transform into works of art and are then lifted into place with much effort and curses.

The metalworkers bring their crafts to the woodworkers, their hinges, heavy doorknockers and locks sliding neatly into place.

In the streets clothes grow more elaborate.

Brighter colours adorn the women, finer fabrics float around their new owners, shoes are made of softer and brighter leather.

Even the weapons carried become more elaborate; no longer strictly utilitarian, they grow elegant scabbards and fine scrollwork on their handles.

There is a prayer hall. It is not nearly large enough, but it is a real building, and that satisfies Yusuf for now. He wants a great mosque, but that will have to come later. For now, there is at least a space where people can come together in prayer.

The tileworkers labour over tiny pieces of colour, fitting one after another, each only a tiny part of no importance, but as we pass by them each day their patterns unfold, stretch out, each tiny piece now a part of something larger and more beautiful.

There are still tents on the outer parts of the city where the lowlier live, where the foot soldiers and the cavalry sleep.

There are tents of traders for the souks, and there are tents here and there between the buildings, but the city is changing fast. Slaves work daily under builders and surveyors, their bodies and clothes marked with splattered mud indicating the nature of their work even after they have finished, exhausted, for the day.

***

The petals fall from the almonds and the sun grows hotter.

As Yusuf’s wives, of course, we now have our own separate dwellings, for although Zaynab and I never waver in our public politeness towards one another, even Yusuf seems to sense that all is not as it seems and when the time came to build him a house, he ordered two.

One is larger, for Yusuf spends most of his time there and Zaynab has her own rooms within the building.

It has bigger rooms for entertaining, for this is where important guests will come.

For all his love of simplicity, even Yusuf knows that an amir such as he now is must offer his guests a certain elegance in hospitality, and so there is a great room in which guests can be received.

It is simpler than it would have been had it belonged to a man who loved luxury, but still it is decorated, and his courtyard is full of flowers.

There are rooms where guests can sleep, as well as kitchens large enough for his growing retinue of slaves and servants.