Page 27 of None Such as She (The Moroccan Empire #2)

Now that Aisha is here I am more than ever Abu Bakr’s child rather than his wife.

I am a beloved daughter, favoured and treated almost as a son.

I am a part of his plans, his strategies.

He does not see me as a woman nor a wife.

He does not see what robes I wear, nor how the sun touches my hair.

He does not seek to touch my hand with his own when we walk together, only takes my finger and moves it to point at a different part of a map, the better to show me his thoughts on paper.

He sees a clever mind, hears a quick tongue and treats me as he might one of his men.

I suppose I should be grateful I am excused training.

***

The day has come. We are going to Murakush. To an empty spot on a plain which we will fill with our tents and animals, our noise and plans for the future.

We look like dispossessed war captives rather than a conquering army about to build its stronghold.

Battle-trained horses are loaded up like pack mules, hardened soldiers pack up belongings as though they were slaves.

The slaves are worked almost to exhaustion.

There is no time for good meals or fine clothes – we wear rough robes and slowly the palace empties of anyone and everyone of importance.

A few soldiers are left behind to keep Aghmat safe but the army is on the move.

Thousands of men, bright armour glinting here and there among their dark robes.

Many of the humble people come with us also.

We have need of all – of women and children, of men and slaves.

Even a garrison – for that is all Murakush is for now – needs bread, meat, vegetables, water, grains.

Many hands are needed to feed many mouths.

Craftsmen are needed to repair the armour of the soldiers and the saddles of horses and camels.

Whole houses fall silent in a day and the streets are empty.

Slowly, over many days, the procession away from Aghmat grows longer, while that empty spot on the plain begins to fill.

Later there will be walls, buildings, a great city.

For now, there are tents of all shapes and sizes.

There is a great empty centre, which we leave for prayers since there is no mosque, for feasts and markets.

Around it are placed the largest tents, those belonging to the people who command.

Abu Bakr’s tent is largest, for here is where we will hold council from now on.

Our large cool palace rooms placed in gardens, tiled in a thousand bright colours, are very far away.

The work begins quickly. There are latrines to be dug.

The shepherds must seek safe new pastures for their animals.

Water must be brought. Already they are building the means to bring water to us without it being fetched jug by jug.

There must be an acqueduct, and animals are brought to turn the wheels so that water will flow to us.

It will be rough and ready for now, but later we can refine it, there will be a greater flow of water for the gardens that will be set aside to grow crops.

For now, much of our food is preserved and brought from elsewhere.

Abu Bakr’s orders have been obeyed and the trade routes which pass through those cities they already hold are yielding a goodly source of taxes on the merchants who trade there and many goods are brought for our needs.

Often we eat only coarse bread or couscous with dried dates and water.

There is little time to prepare other foods.

Sometimes there is fresh meat and it tastes better than all the great feasts I was used to in the palace at Aghmat.

“Not pining for your palace, lady Zaynab?” asks one of the men when he sees me emerge from my tent one day.

I am about to say that I miss it but other words come from my mouth. “It is a new life,” I say. “But not a bad one.”

The man seems surprised, no doubt expecting me to be fretting for my fine rooms, my cooling gardens, for a life of luxury such as I have been used to.

He is right, of course. The tents are hot, there is little room inside them even though I have one of the larger ones.

There is dust everywhere and chaos as more people arrive every day.

Although I still have many servants and slaves to call my own they, too, are pressed into service to help set up the camp.

There is new work to be done every day. Ovens have to be built that we may bake bread.

Water still has to be fetched even if not from so far away.

Cooking is not done in the big kitchens the slaves and servants were used to, but on campfires.

Abu Bakr’s men may be accustomed to desert life but the people of Aghmat have lived in cities for all their lives and their parents’ lives before them, even their grandparents.

This is a new, hard, life for them. They have come because they are needed and because as Aghmat empties it becomes clear that if they wish to rebuild their old lives they will need to be built here, in Murakush.

Aghmat is a place of spirits now, each house gradually losing its living breathing inhabitants, being left for the winds to fill.

There is still a souk, but it is becoming a desultory place, a quick stop-off for merchants before they come on to Murakush where their wares are wanted.

But I am happier here than I have been for many years.

I do not live in fear. I am treated with respect by all and with kindness by my husband.

I am wanted for my wits and my strategies, accepted by the men who matter most in this place.

Even now there are tribes who are travelling here to meet with Abu Bakr, to see for themselves what manner of a man he is, how great an army he really has.

When they arrive they are awestruck. Never have they seen so many men, so many camels and horses in one place.

So many weapons. They are afraid at first but before they can become aggressive, as many men do when they are afraid, Abu Bakr’s strong hand will be on their shoulder, a warm smile on his face.

They are offered food and drink, taken to sit in council sessions, offered privileges if they will swear allegiance.

They look about them and see that great things may be theirs if they agree, that their people will be slaughtered if they do not, and they agree.

They leave Murakush with gifts and blessings, with safety in their hearts.

They return home and as they do so they spread the word – Abu Bakr’s army is not to be trifled with.

It is better to be their friend than their foe.

Then more leaders come to us, and so it goes on.

We are fighting a war without bloodshed so far, in large part because of my knowledge.

As the smaller leaders capitulate so the larger, stubborn ones are left without allies to call on.

There will still be fighting. I can see it coming when I look at the maps spread out before us.

The leaders of the larger cities will not so easily roll over like trembling dogs.

They will fight. But when they do they will find out what it is to fight the Almoravids, and they will suffer for their bravery.

***

Today Abu Bakr announces that he needs to focus on preparing his army for the next stages of conquest and so the rule of the camp’s daily life is to be given to me.

He has decreed that all who arrive in the camp must come to me first. I will direct where they are to set up their tents, where their animals are to graze, what work they are to be given.

I have more slaves and servants given to me so that I may direct the camp’s life with ease.

When there are problems – when water is short or there must be a decision about grazing rights – I will be told and I must decide what is best for the camp.

I am to be the ruler of my own garrison city.

I am grateful for his trust and that of the men who agreed I should take on this role.

Yusuf, of course, merely looks into my eyes and then away again.

He does not agree, he does not disagree.

I smile at him as I leave the council. “We are both Abu Bakr’s lieutenants now, Yusuf,” I say, taunting him. I like to see him scowl at me. He is bad tempered and obstinate, still unwilling to acknowledge that I have been of great use to Abu Bakr’s plans.

“You are a woman,” he says, scowling as I had known he would.

“And you are a jealous man,” I say, and move towards him to leave. He does not move, so I push my shoulder against his. He will not give way and I have to force my way out, our bodies hard against one another. I laugh as I go and feel his anger mounting behind me.

***

Days go by where I give out endless orders.

The camp is at last beginning to come to some semblance of order although I can see that mine will never be a simple task.

New people arrive daily – soldiers, slaves, animals, merchants.

Families. All must be housed, all must be fed in a garrison that does not have all the facilities of a city.

Those men who are not training are needed to dig trenches and build walls, for this city of tents must nevertheless be fortified.

Houses will come later, safety is more important.

Tents must be erected to some sort of pattern that people may walk easily and quickly between them and I find myself drawing up little maps to show paths between them.

There are lavish tents made of fine leathers covered with rich embroideries and tents so tiny and grey with age they barely exist. My own tent is fairly small but Abu Bakr has told me I should have a new one made. I order a very large tent.

“What colour?” asks the man who is organising this for me.