All day they had been heading uphill into the wind, hunched in their saddles over the bowed necks of their horses, their pluvials flapping around them like tethered wings, the three mules on the lead behind them laboring steadily along the merchants' road. Of their week of hard travel, this day had proved the most demanding, for the climb was steeper now than it had been, and the weather more severe. Shreds of clouds streamed overhead, and grass and trees thrashed in the onslaught; the high peaks, still snowbound, leached the gentle spring warmth from the day. The noise was so great that both men refrained from speaking, knowing they would not be heard. When they finally stopped in late afternoon, picking a site near a stream at the edge of a copse of pine where they would have a good view of the road in both directions as well as a modicum of shelter, they came out of their saddles as if they had been in battle.
"What do you think?" Rotiger shouted as he loosened the girths and eased the saddle off the back of his dun mare. He was almost numb with fatigue, and knew their animals must feel much the same as he did. "Are we going to reach the pass by tomorrow night?"
It was a long moment before Ragoczy Germainus answered, and when he did he seemed preoccupied. "I think the horses will need a day of rest once we're through the pass. I know I will." He pitched his voice to carry. "At least we have not encountered snow yet. That would slow us down." He was dressed in Byzantine fashion, in a short, belted dalmatica of heavy Chinese silk brocade showing phoenixes rising from their own ashes, surrounded by blazing red halos. His Persian leggings of heavy black silk had a decorated band down the center-front of his legs, on which was embroidered his eclipse device in silver. His pluvial of black wool was lined with wolf-fur. Only his thick-soled Frankish heuse revealed where he had begun this journey.
"Rest may be more difficult to get than you anticipate," said Rotiger. "What with the fighting still going on."
Ragoczy Germainus paused in his fixing the hobbles to his gray's front legs. "I would like to think you and I have learned to avoid fighting." The light, ironic note concealed his darker intent.
"When it is possible," said Rotiger, repeating it more loudly when he realized Ragoczy Germainus had not heard him.
"Do you think it will not be now?" Ragoczy Germainus asked, standing upright again to reach into his saddlebag for a handful of grain; he offered this to the gray, who whuffled in pleasure. "See that they all have a measure of oats," he said to Rotiger. "I will try to find wood enough for a small fire." He stared up into the tattered sky. "Although it may be unwise to light one in this wind."
"Truly," said Rotiger, nodding to show he understood. As he took oats from Ragoczy Germainus' saddlebag, he asked, "How long do you plan to remain here? Or have you decided yet?"
He came up behind Rotiger and spoke loudly over the moaning gale, "Oh, no more than half the night. The horses and mules will be rested enough by then and the moon is nearly full. We should get across the crest tonight if the wind dies down. If not, we will seek shelter in one of those monasteries on the crags."
"If they have not been razed completely," said Rotiger, the melancholy tone making his voice hollow.
Ragoczy Germainus halted. "You are not sanguine about this venture, are you."
"No, I am not," said Rotiger bluntly. "I am troubled that we are returning to Hispania so soon after we left; you say it is necessary that we do, and that may be so, but I believe it is too soon. It could lead to difficulties." He offered a handful of grain to his mare, and, while she ate, went on stubbornly. "This is unlike you. It is all well and good to say that it has changed a great deal in the last thirty years: the mountains, and those who dwell in them, have not."
"Perhaps not," said Ragoczy Germainus. "But it is unlikely we will have much contact with them. They are still east of Usca, and we are going to the west." He looked up the slope. "I am more concerned about snow."
"So am I, if there is no fighting," Rotiger pointed out.
"Of course; if there is no fighting." He went off to find dried bits of wood, letting his pluvial fly out around him as he walked. The cold bite of the wind had no impact on him, nor had the gathering darkness. He made his way into the copse, looking for downed branches and dry scrub. His arms were soon laden with bits of tinder and enough dry wood to fuel their fire for half the night. He carried his gleanings back to where Rotiger was brushing down the mules, having stacked their saddles and their burdens a few steps away.
"The younger jenny has a swelling in her off-side hock," said Rotiger as Ragoczy Germainus prepared to lay a fire for them. "I don't know if she can carry her packs."
"How bad is it?" Ragoczy Germainus asked as he put down the rest of his wood and tinder more haphazardly than he had intended. He went to inspect the jenny for himself, and found the hock hot to the touch and somewhat enlarged. "I will make a poultice for her," he said as he patted the mule on the rump.
"Very good," said Rotiger, to make it clear he had heard his master.
"I am going to make a shelter for the fire. There are stones enough to do that," Ragoczy Germainus said, and began at once to select stones of fist-size and larger. When he had made a pile about as high as his knee, and darkness was full upon them, he scraped on the earth, sweeping away leaves and twigs, then laid out a pan of stones, making a rim at the edge. There he put his tinder and fuel, then took flint-and-steel from the wallet that hung from his belt and patiently worked to strike a spark to the tinder.
As the first wink of brightness took in the loose material, Rotiger came nearer to it, his hands held out to the promise of warmth. "Do you think we will attract trouble with the fire?" he asked uneasily as he saw the flames rise.
"I think it is better to have the fire than not," Ragoczy Germainus said. Although cold did not bother him, he found the small blaze comforting, and he sank down on the ground between the fire and the stream, relieved to have a chance to rest.
"That may be," said Rotiger dubiously as he flipped back his pluvial and smoothed the front of his blue-gray woollen dalamtica; he moved nearer to the fire. "You have been unusually quiet, my master, and it is not because of the weather. Something is troubling you, and has troubled you since before we left Touloza." When Ragoczy Germainus did not speak, he added, "If you continue to tell me nothing, I will guess, and assume my guesses are correct."
"You know Comites Egnacius made threats," said Ragoczy Germainus as if to dismiss any concern Rotiger might have.
"He made certain all your household knew. His own servants told us that we might all be held accountable for any wrong you did." Rotiger shook his head, showing his distaste at so obvious a ploy. "Do you think that Comites Egnacius would truly put Ambroisus and Ubertuz in jail if you do not present yourself at Asturica?"
Again Ragoczy Germainus hesitated, his manner remote; then he sighed. "Very well. We are far enough away from Touloza. You might as well know." He sat up, his hands locked in front of his knees. "Egnacius needs money to pay for his fight with Perpontus, and vintners like Ambroisus and Ubertuz have money and land that would be very useful for him to have. I would be a poor friend to give Egnacius the excuse he is seeking to confiscate as much of their wealth as he can." He stared into the fire. "What he would do to Lavetta would be much worse."
"And she is the crux of the matter, isn't she?" Rotiger said, comprehension dawning at last. "I have been puzzling about this since we left Touloza. I should have realized that Lavetta was part of the tangle, though you only visited her in dreams." He nodded. "So we must at least go to Asturica."
"Yes. If Manrigo has any use for us-which I doubt-we will serve his interests for a year or so, and then find good cause to leave." Ragoczy Germainus got up and began to pace, his restlessness as eloquent of his apprehension as it was uncharacteristic of him; it was the first hint Rotiger had that more worried him than he admitted. "That will keep Ambroisus and Ubertuz from risk, and Lavetta out of the hands of Egnacius' soldiers."
"Would Egnacius do that?" Rotiger asked, doubtful that so ambitious a man would do such a reckless thing.
"It depends on what the Pope decides," Ragoczy Germainus said. "If Egnacius has the Pope's support, Perpontus may risk everything to keep his position. Egnacius may have to show his ruthlessness to maintain his claim."
There was more to it than Ragoczy Germainus was saying; Rotiger tried another approach. "Perhaps we should be grateful that Valenzia is in Moorish hands, so that we do not have to cross the Pyrenees in the east. That could be very dangerous. It would be unfortunate to go from Egnacius' clutches to Moorish ones." Rotiger did his best to turn this to a jest, but he did not succeed; when he saw no response in Ragoczy Germainus' face, he tried again. "Is there anything else? What haven't you told me?" He had been with Ragoczy Germainus long enough to recognize his reticence for what it was. "No matter what Egnacius does, you need not answer for it."
"But I must live with myself," said Ragoczy Germainus.
Rotiger had no response for that, so he said, "What more? You might as well tell me, for I will discover it eventually."
Ragoczy Germainus sighed again, this time drawing the air out slowly and looking away. "He sent men to imprison you while you were gathering herbs for me. I paid them in pearls and they left. But I knew they would be back. I have assumed that Egnacius was planning to torture information out of you that he would find useful in his drive to claim Touloza." He shook his head. "I gave the men-at-arms that I would say nothing, so that if you were taken and tortured, you would know nothing to their discredit."
"So that is why you decided we must leave quickly. I thought it was Egnacius' preparations for departure that-" He stopped. "Am I still a hunted man, then?"
"Probably not, at least not until Egnacius comes back from Roma. Then we may both be in disfavor, if not with Egnacius, then with Perpontus. Those two will not cease their disputes any time soon, no matter what the Pope decides. I hope Ubertuz has the good sense to go back to Primuntiaco, and to take his cousins with him. He can put the vineyards in the hands of monks and neither Egnacius nor Perpontus will dare to touch them; it is not what any of them would want, but it is better than falling into Egnacius' hands." He was quiet for a short while. "I apologize for telling you so little."
Rotiger nodded. "I supposed something had happened, but I did not-" He stopped and coughed. "Never mind. We are where we are and we are bound where we are going." With this concession, he hunkered down by the fire. "Why did it have to be Asturica that asked for aid? Why not Aquileia? Or Paderborn?"
"Why not Tun-huang?" Ragoczy Germainus suggested, recalling that distant outpost on the Old Silk Road with mixed emotions. "The Moors are a threat all Franks understand. As you know."
"But surely-" He broke off. "Of course. He wants to tell the Pope that he is defending the Christian cause." He smiled with a touch of rancor. "In a way, it is clever. He had to compel you to do his bidding and this was one way." He rocked back on his heels. "Must we go to Asturica? Can we not choose another place?"
"I have to suppose that Comites Egnacius has spies at Manrigo's court, as Manrigo does at his. If we do not arrive and there is nothing to account for our absence, others will be made to pay. Hardly the recompense I would want for friendship." He frowned, the firelight accentuating the angle of his fine brows. "It is not fitting that any of them should suffer on my behalf."
"Lavetta most of all, but Ambroisus and Ubertuz as well," said Rotiger. "And you find that unacceptable."
"Do you not?" Ragoczy Germainus asked, surprised at Rotiger's tone.
"Not in the way you do," Rotiger conceded. He shook himself. "The poultice."
"Oh, yes," said Ragoczy Germainus in another tone of voice. "If you will fetch a pail and fill it with water, I will make my preparations." He was relieved not to have to say anything more about anyone in Touloza, but he did not mention it.
Rotiger hastened to do as he had been told, and decided to postpone any further inquiries for a while. He had learned enough to know he would have to spend a little time mulling over what he had been told. Taking care of the jenny was more urgent, in any case. He took the pail from their supplies and went to the stream to fill it.
"A pity we have no hens' eggs; mustard and boiled nettles will have to do," said Ragoczy Germainus as he opened the chest of red Roman lacquer he used to hold his medicaments. "Do we have strips of linen?"
"A small roll of them," said Rotiger. "Look in the middle drawer."
"Ah. Of course." He found the roll and took it out, peeling several of the long strips from it. "Will she try to eat this off?"
"If you have mustard in it, I should think not," said Rotiger, then, wise in the ways of mules, added, "but she may try."
"Then keep her on a close lead so she cannot," Ragoczy Germainus said, and went back to the fire where the pail of water was heating.
The wind was much colder now, and keener, cutting through clothing to flesh as if made of tempered steel. Two steps from the fire and its warmth was entirely lost. Rotiger pulled his pluvial more securely around him, saying, "It is a hard night."
Ragoczy Germainus squinted into the wind. "Yes. But tomorrow will be easier. I think the storm is blowing itself out.
"Not before time," said Rotiger with an impatient shake of his head.
"No," Ragoczy Germainus agreed as he put dried nettle-leaves into the pail. "This should be hot enough. I will make a mustard paste." He retrieved a small metal cup from his red-lacquer chest, measured out a palmful of ground seeds and carried them back to the fire, where he added a little of the hot water to the mustard, stirring it with his finger until it was the consistency of carpenters' glue. "This will draw out the heat from her hock. The nettles will help to keep the swelling down." He wiped his finger on the linen strips so as not to waste any of the mustard and set the metal cup on one of the rocks rimming the fire.
"Very good," said Rotiger as he finished giving grain to their animals. "I'll shift her load to the others until the hock is improved. No sense in forcing her to carry a pack when it would only serve to slow us down." He laughed once. "Such attention to a jenny-mule. What would Egnacius say?"
"He would consign the jenny to the stew-pot and call us simpletons for bothering with her." Ragoczy Germainus' voice was flat, but that did not conceal his disparagement of such attitudes.
"No doubt," said Rotiger, and came back to the fireside.
Using a stick to stir the nettles in the pail, Ragoczy Germainus waited for a bit before he spoke again. "What would you have done, old friend, had it been your decision to make?"
Rotiger was well-aware that Ragoczy was not asking about the mule; he considered his answer carefully. "Eventually, I would do much the same as you; I admit it. But I would not so readily accept the necessity." He lowered his eyes. "And I would resent being coerced."
"Ah." Ragoczy Germainus pulled a wad of nettles out of the water. "If it will console you, I do not like being coerced either." He let the nettles drop back into the pail. "This will be ready soon."
"You do not resent it," Rotiger pointed out.
"It is all so petty, such resentment, and the rancor that causes it," said Ragoczy Germainus. "I cannot demean the lives of those who have befriended me by resentment." He folded his arms and settled back to wait.
Rotiger nodded slowly. "I understand, but I do not share your state of mind." He expected no response, and so was somewhat startled when Ragoczy Germainus said. "That, old friend, is not necessary."
By the time the jenny's hock had been poulticed and bandaged there were cries of wolves from above them, and Ragoczy Germainus built up the fire to keep them at bay. The two companions sat by the fire, wrapped in their pluvials, drowsing away the first half of the night. When they resumed their traveling, it was by the bright light of a moon just on the wane; the wind was dying, no longer fierce but brisk, touched with snow from higher up the range. The distant cry of wolves mixed with the cry of night birds and the steady clop of their horses and mules. When they stopped again to rest and water the animals, the sky was growing light in the east, promising a limpid spring day.
"How much longer to the pass?" Rotiger asked as he checked the jenny's poultice. "I think she is improving."
"Very good," said Ragoczy Germainus. "She is young and her bloodline is strong." He had long ago developed a high regard for mules, having bred them by the hundreds for the Roman Legions. He patted the jenny's neck, saying, "Olivia will be pleased." For the mules had been bred at Olivia's stud farm near Fruttuaria, and had been one of a dozen she had presented to him on his last visit.
"Is she still at Roma, do you think?" Rotiger asked as he handed an angled pick to Ragoczy Germainus, watching as his master bent to lift the mule's hoof for cleaning.
"For a while yet, I would guess. She is expanding her holdings there, and for that, she must be present." Ragoczy Germainus moved to the next hoof-the on-side rear-holding the leg tightly so that the jenny could not kick him. "Make sure the girths are tight. We have a long ascent ahead of us."
A short while later they were underway again, heading through the changing forest toward the snow-mantled peaks; before long they saw patches of the snow, and then whole meadows of it. Breath steamed out of the horses' and mules' nostrils and the light dazzled off the snow.
It was nearly mid-day when a small group of mounted, armed men headed toward Ragoczy Germainus and Rotiger, their scale armor glinting against the blazing snow. They held their lances peacefully, point up and flapping pennons to show their purpose was not bellicose. The man in the van of the company held up his hand to halt his men as well as Ragoczy Germainus and Rotiger.
"Draw rein," Ragoczy Germainus said to Rotiger in vulgate Latin. "I want to hear what these men have to say."
"They may not be as peaceful as they look," said Rotiger in Greek.
"All the more reason to be cautious," Ragoczy Germainus agreed in the same tongue.
The company head spoke a version of Latin, too, but it was much coarser and mixed with a number of Frankish words. "Good day to you, stranger," he said.
"And to you, Capito," said Ragoczy Germainus.
"Are you bound for the Roncesvalles Pass?" The Capito rapped out his question as if addressing men-at-arms.
"That is where this road leads, to Roncesvalles and the north of Hispania beyond," said Ragoczy Germainus mildly. "We are bound for Asturica on behalf of Egnacius of Touloza."
The Capito shook his head. "You may well have such a duty, but you will not get there by this road. The pass has been blocked by an avalanche, and it will not be open again until late in spring, when the worst of the snow has melted." He indicated the crusty drifts around them. "It will be some months yet before you can complete your journey."
Ragoczy Germainus took a long, steady breath. "And to the west? What of passage there?"
"You may try if you like, but it will lengthen your travel, and you may not be allowed to pass into Asturias. The people there are not kind to strangers, no matter who they are. If you want to reach Asturica, before the end of summer, go east and take the Septimania Pass. You will have to cross Moorish territory, but you are not soldiers. You should be permitted to reach your destination with only double tolls paid." He made a sweeping gesture with his lance. "If I had to make such a choice, I would elect to go by the Septimania Pass."
Recognizing this as an order instead of a recommendation, Ragoczy Germainus said, "Comites Egnacius expects me to travel through Roncesvalles Pass."
"He expects you to reach Asturica," said the Capito.
"Yes. But-" He did not go on; it was clearly useless to bother. "Are you certain the Septimania Pass is open?"
"Travelers have used it recently," said the Capito in what was not quite an answer.
"Isn't there fighting on the southern slope of the mountains?" Ragoczy Germainus persisted in a tone that implied he knew something of the matter.
"It is not enough to stop travelers," said the Capito, becoming less cordial.
"That you know of," Ragoczy Germainus pointed out.
The Capito said nothing; the tip of his lance swung in Ragoczy Germainus' general direction. "A wise man would go back to the fork at the bridge and take the eastern path."
Ragoczy Germainus closed his eyes briefly, his thoughts tumbling. "Are there other patrols in this part of the forest with the same errand as you have?"
"The Dux of Garomma has companies of men like this one on all the roads leading to Roncesvalles Pass. He has the plight of many travelers to consider, and has ordered out patrols to warn those on the road. Eight men and a Capito in each company. All travelers are told the same thing. It is the Dux's intention that all travelers be protected from harm." Under his helmet, his eyes were stern. "Any man of honor must bear the responsibility that has fallen to him."
"No doubt," said Ragoczy Germainus. "And no doubt you have good reason to keep watch for him."
"It is his order that we do." The Capito was staring straight ahead now.
"And sending travelers through Moorish territory will serve the Dux's purpose, will it not." He turned his open hand up. "Since there is no choice, I suppose I must, perforce, do as you require."
"The Dux of Garomma," the Capito corrected, and kept his men behind him as he watched Ragocz Germainus turn around, his manservant and mules following after; he and his men followed them down the trail for four or five thousand paces.
"Do you really think that there are more companies patrolling the forest roads?" Rotiger asked when the soldiers were no longer behind them.
"I wouldn't be surprised if there are a few," said Ragoczy Germainus. "Perhaps not as many as he claims, but three or four."
"Is that why you did not challenge him?" Rotiger asked, unable to conceal his disappointment.
"No. I did not challenge him because I did not like the odds, and there was little to be gained from fighting."
"And who is this Dux of Garomma? I have never heard of him." Rotiger had come up beside Ragoczy Germainus, for the road was wide enough to accommodate them both if they rode close together.
"Nor I. He has probably bestowed the title on himself." He shook his head. "I am surprised we do not see more of that."
"But Dux of Garomma? Is he claiming the river for himself?" Rotiger was too indignant to be amused, but he did his best to diminish his anger. "How can he claim a river?"
"I suspect he has carved himself out a fiefdom with the river for a border, and has struck some sort of bargain with the Moors to send travelers through their territory so high taxes can be levied in exchange for the Moors respecting the Dux's boundaries," said Ragoczy Germainus. "It will save him from having to fight on two fronts, which I reckon he has insufficient men to manage, or supplies. If he can keep his lands and his claim intact, his sons will make the family's reputation, and the title will be accepted. In four generations, the family will be honored by all. If he fails to hold it, the family will be disgraced." He pointed ahead to the old stone bridge that straddled the river they were approaching. "There it is."
"We can still turn westward," Rotiger suggested.
"We can, but it would not be wise," said Ragoczy Germainus. "I assume we are still being watched. If we fail to cross, the soldiers will return."
Rotiger cursed in Greek, adding, "Could we not elude them?"
"Yes, but it would bring more attention to us, which I would like to avoid." He set his horse toward the bridge. "Well, old friend, come on. We have a long way yet to go, and the day is far advanced already."
At last Rotiger voiced the one concern that weighed most heavily upon him. "The Septimania Pass will take us into the region of Holy Blood." He had to raise his voice to be heard as Ragoczy Germainus led his mule across the bridge. "Directly into it."
Ragoczy Germainus turned in the saddle. "Yes," he called back. "I know."
Text of a letter from Habib ibn Rayhan ibn Timuz in Karmona to Akil ibn Dawud ibn Timuz in Valenzia.
In the name of Allah, the All-Merciful, and by His Prophet Mohammed, may I have no sons to live after me if I report to you, my kinsman, in error, or in any particular fail to give an accurate account to you of the recent demise of our most illustrious cousin, Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa, who died at the new moon immediately before the Spring Equinox, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. May Allah show him the glories of Paradise, and rejoice in his coming.
Our cousin took ill at his palace in Karmona shortly before the Winter Solstice. He had been hale enough before then, and it did not appear that age had laid too heavy a hand upon him-thanks be to Allah-or that he had lost any of his reason or memory. The first appearance of the illness that felled him was deceptive, hardly more than what any man might expect in winter. But what had begun as an occasional cough soon became a profound weakening of the lungs, which left Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa in a debilitated state. His physicians treated him with lemons and wasps, but he did not rally, and at last sank into a stupor that lasted for four nights, and ended shortly before dawn on the day described. It was a cold, blustery morning and turned later to rain, as if the heavens mourned his loss with us. His body was prepared with honors and his burial was held with all the men who served him in life attending him to his grave. Even a Christian priest blessed his body so that Christians might not show disrespect to his grave.
In his accounts of his service to Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa, our grandfather says that in his youth he was given to sensuality and the pleasures of the harem, but that certain disappointments hardened him and made him a leader of fighting men who was renowned for his relentlessness in battle. It is shown that once Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa had a taste of battle, he fought valiantly at the head of his own soldiers for twenty years-a most distinguished career. Timuz ibn Musa ibn Maliq served Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa for nearly twenty years, and his records show that once Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa discovered the joy of battle, that he never flagged in his devotion to the spread of our people and our Faith. The campaigns in which these two participated bring fame and esteem to all our family, distinctions for which we must show ourselves worthy.
It may be that you and I will be summoned to fill the office left open by the death of Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa, and if that is the outcome-may Allah show favor to us in our lives-we must thoroughly acquaint ourselves with all our cousin has done, so that we may more truly fulfill the goals to which he dedicated his life. There have been many who depended upon Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa's good-will, and who would continue their support of our family and ourselves if we are well-informed. To that end I propose to go to the palace here in Karmona and spend many days learning all that I can, so that if the Caliph should decide to have our family continue in this office, I will be ready to assume the responsibilities promptly. If you agree to join me in this enterprise, I believe we may expand the good work we have done and add to the high repute our kinsmen have already gained.
There are many officials to whom I must apply for endorsement, a task that might as easily fall to you as to me if you were here with me, my cousin. Working together, we can accomplish far more than either one of us can do working alone. I ask you to consider how we may mutually benefit ourselves in this time, and I beg you to take the plunge and come to Karmona.
It is true that Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa had many sons, and three of them have spoken out for his post, but they are highly placed men in the army, and they have not the time or the learning to undertake the administration of his post as he carried it out the last decade of his life. They do not understand the demands of commerce, for they have given their lives to war. We, on the other hand, are well-schooled in commerce and have traveled for reasons other than war, which make us particularly useful in the position that is being left empty. Let his sons continue his battles for him, as they did while he lived, and let us undertake his other tasks. My heart is willing. I pray yours may be, too.
There are accommodations for you and your wives in the palace, as there are for me and mine. If we neither of us add too many concubines, it is possible that the palace will suit us both for many years to come. Think of the advantages of working closely together, and consider how our shared efforts will improve all our fortunes. I am acutely aware that I am no fighting man, and I know you are not, either; our strengths lie in other abilities. Therefore, let us make the best of our situation and accept the advantage that is presently available to us. Our talents are complementary, and if we do not become too greedy, we may yet control the fortunes of Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa. You cannot deny that our interests are better served in concert than at cross-purposes. Our grandfather benefitted from his long association with Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa, and why should we not do as he did?
Send me your answer by messenger as quickly as you may. I tell you it is folly for you to remain in Valenzia when there is so much to gain here in Karmona. This at the first full moon after the Spring Equinox.
Habib ibn Rayhan ibn Timuz
