Book 3 in The City of Dreams trilogy picks up from the story of the Moorish prince who has been cast into prison by his brother, the new khalifa of Málaga. An unsettled period in the history of Moorish Spain becomes even more turbulent as intrigues and betrayal in the royal household threaten the stability of the city.
Against this background, Makoud’s cousin and her family arrive in Málaga, hoping to follow their dreams and make new lives for themselves, but they have secrets which if discovered could mean they would face exile or even death.
The Prisoner is a fast moving story of adventure and romance set in the exotic and vibrant 11th century city of Málaga.
Genre: FICTION / HistoricalONLY JUST PUBLISHED
EXTRACT: CHAPTER 1
At first Ben-Yahya didn’t know where he was. He opened his eyes expecting to see the sun streaming through his bedroom windows, their muslin hangings fluttering in the warm breeze, to smell the sweet scent of orange blossom and hear the call of the imam as he did every morning. Instead he could see nothing and the smell that assailed his senses was of excrement and putrefaction. Was he in hell? Had he been struck blind? Gradually his sleep-stopped eyes adjusted to the gloom and then he remembered. A tiny glimmer of the pale dawn squeezed through the slit in the wall and lighted his dingy cell. Instead of his soft bed of silk-covered cushions, he lay on a stone floor with straw for a mattress. A burst of anger overwhelmed him as he remembered how he had come here, and he leapt to his feet and kicked the straw pallet to one side. Why, in the name of Allah, had he been arrested? But, more importantly what was he doing in this hell-hole? And how was he going to get out? He’d seen enough of the dungeons to know that they were unassailable. He’d never escape without help. His mind was racing; whom could he trust? And how on earth was he going to be able to contact anyone?
He felt in the pockets of his robes. Yes, his purse of money was still there. That filthy quaid may have taken his dagger but he hadn’t the wit to take his money. He had two hundred silver dirhams in his purse and another two hundred gold dinars sewn inside his djellaba. He took the purse and tucked it inside the straw pallet for safety.
The beam of light had grown stronger and now the voice of the imam began calling the faithful to morning prayer. All at once the door of his cell opened and the gaoler came in, carrying an earthenware bowl of water and a cloth.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
|
Spanish
|
Already translated.
Translated by Eva Romero Lozano
|
|
|
Author review: AS good as ever. Thank you Eva |
