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Posts Tagged ‘Ronda’

Joseph’s journal: 46

20 Kislev, 4808 (November, 1059)

The Moslem celebration of the birth of a newborn male is very similar to our Jewish custom. The circumcision ceremony is a great celebration, especially so for a monarch. Mutadid’s third wife was only fifteen years old when she gave birth to a son. The kings of Mutadid’s allies, Moron, Arcos, and Ronda, were all invited to the circumcision. All three rulers arrived on the same day, with their entourages. The three processions entering through the main gate into Seville within an hour of each other.

Mutadid welcomed the three as they arrived and suggested they freshen up after their travels by taking a steam bath in his newly renovated sauna. He explained that he was very proud of the work done on the steam bath, although he admitted his stonemasons were still completing some final tasks. He told them that if the construction noise was disturbing they should just say so to the attendants. The workers would cease their labors immediately.

The three kings readily agreed to the steam bath looking forward to the relaxation it would provide. Mutadid made certain they were supplied with the best his palace had to offer in wine and snacks, but cautioned his guests not to eat and drink too much because there was to be a grand banquet that night.

The three paid no notice of the masons working at the entrance to the sauna until one of them noticed that the entrance had been walled shut. Within moments the amount of steam in the room increased, along with the temperature. Their frantic shouts and pleas were not answered. Nobody could say how long it took for the three to die, but Mutadid was in no hurry to check on them. He was too occupied with the murder of their entourages. Not one person, male, female, or child, was left alive. Late the next morning, Mutadid had the sauna reopened and added the parboiled heads of the three kings to the collection of pickled heads he kept in his bedroom.

Mutadid’s next move was to dispatch a regiment of troops to Ronda where they joined forces with the Sevillians already stationed there. The Arab population of Ronda immediately joined the Sevillian forces. The combined Arab forces slaughtered every Berber not wise enough to calculate the odds and flee, including many women and children. The king of Ronda had left one of his sons, the heir-apparent to the throne, in charge while he travelled to Seville for the festivities. The young man made an attempt to escape by rappelling down the cliff on which the Alcazaba perched, but the rope slipped loose and he fell to his death.

Arcos was the next to be to be brutally violated and annexed to Seville. The Berber rulers of that city/state, and their followers, were only able to mount a quickly suppressed token resistance. Mutadid installed his own people to administer the two Taifa he had annexed and his generals took command of their remaining armed forces and mercenaries.

When the king of Moron learned of the fates of the Zenata Berbers of Ronda and Arcos he immediately dispatched emissaries to both Carmona and Granada, pleading for aid from their Berber brothers to fight against the Arabs. Both Berber states responded by dispatching units of their military to support Moron’s army. But Mutadid was again content with his gains. He never exercised his plan to take over Moron. He had made certain that two of his fickle Berber allies would not be able to change sides when next offered the choice.

When I was a teenager, I can remember my father looking forward, with excitement and anticipation, to taking the field each spring for a summer of campaigning. The garnering of more territory and wealth for his king and for the kingdom motivated him. It was a fortuitous incidental that he also acquired more wealth and honor for himself and his people.

The winter of 4795 (1054) my father celebrated his sixty-first birthday quietly, at home. That was the first time I noticed the large, persistent, dark, puffy bags under both of his eyes. His beard and hair, both long and gray, were beginning to become thin and wispy. His shoulders, once square and proud, slumped forward. When at work at his desk he hunched forward squinting and peering to better see the words he wrote or was reading. He seemed to have shrunk at least three centimeters in height.

That spring when he strapped on his armor and took up his weapons, he seemed to struggle from their weight. I selected those servants who most valued and cared about him to accompany him during the spring and summer campaigns. Those loyal people understood they were responsible for his welfare. I also charged them with making certain that every possible creature comfort was provided for him. Aside from the obvious challenges and dangers of fighting battles my father had to endure the added stress of exposure to the elements. Campaigning often required long days of travel under trying and dangerous conditions.

True to his nature, Father worried first about the wellbeing of his troops. He was ultimately responsible for the welfare and supply of the thousands of men who depended on his attention to detail. He had to make certain to provide everything his men needed in the field and on the march. Adding to all this, he had to deal with the arbitrary moods and desires of a capricious king. I can only imagine how much stress these responsibilities put on him.

“Joseph, I am so very happy you have no aptitude nor skill as a general. It has been my curse,” he told me one long spring night before the start of that year’s campaign. “You will be able to function well as a Grand Vizier, but I am pleased you will not become a general. It is too difficult.”

I could see my father was tired, bone weary tired. The same evening he shared that he was pleased with my lack of aptitude for war, he fell ill with a severe cough and fever. He took to his bed. A parade of physicians came, administered their remedies, and departed. After four weeks, he regained strength, but only after my mother sat with him and spoon-fed him bowl after bowl of rich chicken soup, her remedy for all ailments. After he was able to get up and move around on his own, he resumed all of his normal activities, including daily training with his sword. After just five or so minutes of exercise, however, the cough returned and he had to stop, catch his breath, and rest before resuming. Nothing I said was able to convince him to stay home and rest, to let his generals take care of defending the kingdom. He just shook his head and resumed his training. The bags under his eyes grew larger. His shoulders slumped more. His posture did not improve.

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