The Mapmaker's Daughter by Laurel Corona

Author:Laurel Corona [Corona, Laurel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Jewish, Historical, Cultural, Spain, 15th Century, Religion
ISBN: 9781402286490
Google: cPCgAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 140228649X
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2014-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

15

RONDA 1452

The tents shudder and flap in the dying breeze of late afternoon as we stop near the border of the Caliphate of Granada. Pack mules and carts carry tents, supplies, and all of our possessions during the day, and though there is a carriage for Eliana and me to ride in, it bounces so badly in the ruts in the dirt road that most of the time I am on horseback, with my daughter tucked in front of me.

When the afternoon shadows grow long, we stop with our retinue of guards and servants, who set up camp before the first stars come out. The guards carry the banner of the Duke of Medina-Sidonia, and his protection keeps us safe from bandits and army deserters wandering the countryside. That and the blessing of dry weather have enabled us to enjoy the scenery, and except for saddle weariness, I am glad to be out day after day enjoying the ever-changing light and the wild beauty of southern Castile.

At night, Eliana and I share a tent, and after she is asleep, Jamil and I walk under the winter sky outside the circle of the camp, in a silence broken only by the boasting and laughter of the men around the fire and the howls of wolves in the distance. When we feel the cold, we slip into Jamil’s tent. We shiver at first between the furs and blankets before our bodies grow warm with desire, and we throw off the covers, our naked bodies glistening in the lamplight.

I often sit astride him as we make love, moving my hips in slow circles, as I lean forward to brush my breasts against his chest. We explore with our tongues every surface of our mouths, every crevice in our teeth, and then we break apart to pass our lips over bellies or arms with the delicacy of silk drawn over fine hairs, or taking mouthfuls of flesh in tender bites, as if we cannot be content until we have made each other part of ourselves.

Afterward, I slip back to my tent and crawl under covers warmed by my daughter’s body. There I sleep sweetly until voices wake me at dawn.

***

Jamil brings his mount alongside mine a few days later to tell me that we are now in the Caliphate of Granada. He points to a town perched atop imposing hills in the east. “That’s Ronda. Sawwar lives there.”

Sawwar. Jamil’s work makes him unable to care for his ten-year-old son, and Jamil’s sister Rashida has raised him from the time he was two, when Jamil’s wife, Najat, died in childbirth. I had known we would be stopping here, as the route safest from marauders and bandits was along this road, but Jamil has said nothing for days, and I have had no chance to prepare myself. I look toward Ronda, upset to find myself here without warning.

He misreads the expression on my face as apprehension about the long and precarious switchback trail leading from the valley to the town.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.