so why would he abandon his dreams? He liked to imagine that everything that was happening was only a fleeting nightmare, and that it was impossible that God would abandon His servants and forget them as though they never worshipped Him nor built His abode with their hearts bursting with love for Him. He imagined days to come in which the Castilians would withdraw to the north and leave Granada to live in peace, in the security of the Arabic language, and in the comfort of the muezzin's call to prayer. He knew that he would most likely not live long enough to see all of that. He told himself that his soul one day would be seen circling the skies of the city in the form of a white dove, gliding in the air, flapping its wings from the towers of Alhambra to the minaret of the Great Mosque, landing in its courtyard to pick up the scraps of bread the young pupils leave for him. Then it would take flight and hover over the city and follow a path, and land at the end of the day on a window's edge in a house in Albaicin that used to be his own, and that is now occupied by Hasan the Granadan, the writer, who burns both ends of the candle as he dips his plume into the inkwell and writes.
2. Lisan al-Din Ibn al-Khatib (1313-74), vizier at the Nasrid Court, was an eminent bellettrist and historian, but was later accused of heresy, exiled to Fes, and murdered while in prison.
The two grandchildren sustained Abu Jaafar's dreams by excelling in their studies. Saleema succeeded in memorizing vast amounts of poetry that full-bearded scholars failed to do. Hasan developed an exquisite calligraphy and his letters looked like perfectly carved moldings from a mosque, and the page that came from his hand was a joy to all who laid eyes on it. The children's teachers regarded their intelligence as a sign of great promise. Abu Jaafar showered them with generous salaries even if it forced him to cut down on other expenses, like a scarf or a pair of shoes he needed to buy to replace a worn-out pair.
5
T he man arrived in Granada during the month of July in the year 1499.
War or no war, occupation or joyous occasion, the hills in summertime hold their matrimonial feasts and spread throughout the land their all encompassing greenery, scented with the sweetest aromas, and embroidered with colorful wildflowers, especially the anemones that eclipse them all with their scandalous and teasing red. Summer in Granada brings forth fruit-filled olive trees and the flirtatious apricots appear and disappear behind the lush green leaves. The reticent pomegranates slowly gather their sweetness before being peeled away at the hands of those who will devour them. Arbors and trellises, walnut, almond, and chestnut trees shade the roads as spouting waters merrily cascade from the mountain tops onto the valleys.
That summer, the man came to the city. His head was shaven except for a ring of curly hair that encircled his fleshy, shiny bald crown. His face was stern, bordering on a sickly yellowness. His forehead was wide and his two beady eyes stared out with an inspector's penetration. He had a hooked nose and two tight, thin lips, the upper of which was slightly fuller than the lower. His torso was excessively lean, and when he spread out his arms from underneath his flowing black robe, he appeared like a frightening giant bat.
The people asked themselves who he was and where he came from. It wasn't long before they learned to pronounce his name, Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros. He was the archbishop of Toledo who came to them, so they say, from the city of Alcala where he had founded a university. He was a scholar and a faqeeh, a Castilian faqeeh, who came to meet the faqeehs of the Arabs. He reached out to them, treated them with respect, and showered them with gifts.
The town crier announced to the people that Hamid al-Thaghri was going to be released, and that whoever desired to see him in person was free to proceed on the following day to the Church of San
2. Lisan al-Din Ibn al-Khatib (1313-74), vizier at the Nasrid Court, was an eminent bellettrist and historian, but was later accused of heresy, exiled to Fes, and murdered while in prison.
The two grandchildren sustained Abu Jaafar's dreams by excelling in their studies. Saleema succeeded in memorizing vast amounts of poetry that full-bearded scholars failed to do. Hasan developed an exquisite calligraphy and his letters looked like perfectly carved moldings from a mosque, and the page that came from his hand was a joy to all who laid eyes on it. The children's teachers regarded their intelligence as a sign of great promise. Abu Jaafar showered them with generous salaries even if it forced him to cut down on other expenses, like a scarf or a pair of shoes he needed to buy to replace a worn-out pair.
5
T he man arrived in Granada during the month of July in the year 1499.
War or no war, occupation or joyous occasion, the hills in summertime hold their matrimonial feasts and spread throughout the land their all encompassing greenery, scented with the sweetest aromas, and embroidered with colorful wildflowers, especially the anemones that eclipse them all with their scandalous and teasing red. Summer in Granada brings forth fruit-filled olive trees and the flirtatious apricots appear and disappear behind the lush green leaves. The reticent pomegranates slowly gather their sweetness before being peeled away at the hands of those who will devour them. Arbors and trellises, walnut, almond, and chestnut trees shade the roads as spouting waters merrily cascade from the mountain tops onto the valleys.
That summer, the man came to the city. His head was shaven except for a ring of curly hair that encircled his fleshy, shiny bald crown. His face was stern, bordering on a sickly yellowness. His forehead was wide and his two beady eyes stared out with an inspector's penetration. He had a hooked nose and two tight, thin lips, the upper of which was slightly fuller than the lower. His torso was excessively lean, and when he spread out his arms from underneath his flowing black robe, he appeared like a frightening giant bat.
The people asked themselves who he was and where he came from. It wasn't long before they learned to pronounce his name, Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros. He was the archbishop of Toledo who came to them, so they say, from the city of Alcala where he had founded a university. He was a scholar and a faqeeh, a Castilian faqeeh, who came to meet the faqeehs of the Arabs. He reached out to them, treated them with respect, and showered them with gifts.
The town crier announced to the people that Hamid al-Thaghri was going to be released, and that whoever desired to see him in person was free to proceed on the following day to the Church of San
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