Empires of Faith

Chapter 13: Travels Through Tangier Town

14 Ramadan, 1663

A dry wind blew across the mustachioed face of Gabriel Guerrero. His ship docked on the beach of Tangier-Tetouan and he stepped off onto the soft sands. He breathed in the salty air of the Mediterranean Sea as the low tide washed beneath his boots. He looked ahead, gazing into the distance at the mountainous regions of Rif. Carved into the mountain, he could see the castle of the governor-king of Al-Maghreb, still standing. He sighed. It would be a long journey delivering the message from his Cross leader to the potential Muslim ally.

Gabriel dragged his boat ashore and gathered his belongings from it. Fastening his satchel to his side, he threw over himself a large hooded cloak to protect himself from the sun. Looking up ahead once more, Gabriel took the first of many steps toward the Maghreb kingdom. It was peculiar to him that a land could have a king, and yet still be subject to the rule of an Amir" in a distant land. But the strange politics of these people were not his concern; he had more important matters to worry about.

As he treaded out from the soft beach sands into the harsher, dried dirt of the Country's nearest province, Gabriel recalled the tales he'd heard of the land. In times forgotten the lands had been full of beauty; with grass and flower-filled trees decorating the vast valleys. The breathtaking imagery had been mostly erased, a victim to the Great Wars. The only remaining beauty of the land was protected deep within the fortified castle walls. Until his destination was reached, Gabriel would have to suffer through the eye-sore of dry desert land and ruins of old towns.

Reaching the gates of Tangier town, Gabriel came to notice the footsteps of others. He could hear the chitter-chatter of the people of the market; merchants advertising loudly and negotiating with costumers; the shouts of children running through the roads; the braying of donkeys and bleating of sheep being herded through town. Civilization at last, he thought to himself.

He entered into the town with haste, immediately heading into the markets. "I need water," he said, standing at a booth. The bearded man behind the counter stood looking at him quizzically. "Water, water," Gabriel said, doing his best to imitate someone drinking water. The man raised an eyebrow and Gabriel sighed. Just as he was about to give up, he recalled that several languages were spoken in the land, among them was his native Spanish. "¿Hablas Español?" he asked the man with a faint bit of hope.

The man gave no response other than to arc his eyebrow even higher. Gabriel gave up. He turned and started to walk away. Suddenly, from behind him he heard a high pitch voice calling out to him. He turned back around and saw standing at his waist level was a young boy looking up at him. With the big green eyes on his dust-colored face, the boy stared back at him. "I can help you," the boy said with a smile.

"Thank God Almighty," Gabriel sighed in relief.

"You need to find water?" the boy asked.

"Yes."

"Just outside this gate here, down the path you'll come into a huge pool of water!" the boy exclaimed, much to Gabriel's delight. "There's a whole beach surrounded by it." Gabriel's smile quickly vanished as disappointment settled in.

"Young lad," he said, trying to contain his frustration. "I cannot drink that water, it is too salty."

"Ooooh," the boy said as Gabriel nodded in disappointing affirmation.

"Yes."

"Silly man," the boy said, raising his cupped palm to his forehead. "It's Ramadan; no one is out selling food or drink at this time. We're all fasting." Gabriel stammered, lost for words. The realization had barely dawned on him. It was Ramadan, the Muslim Sacred Month of fasting. No one would be eating or drinking anything until the sun had set in a few hours. There was no way could he last that long.