(This is a new version of one of my first published stories, expanded, revised several times and structured as a diary. I didn't want to delete the other story so that anyone who wants to can enjoy both versions.
It is the story I have most enjoyed writing of all the ones I have published, and I hope you like it.
Finally, I would like to remind you once again that my language is Spanish, so I apologise for any spelling or grammatical error).
At the Service of the Sultan
My name is Eric MartÃnez and these are the first letters that I am writing in the diary of the journey that I am about to undertake under the command of Ambassador Rodrigo of Alcántara on my way to the city of Damascus to meet the Sultan of Egypt, the Great Saladin. I am writing these lines in the room where I am staying in the Caliphate Alcazar of Cordoba.
I was born in the winter of 1165 in a small village in the County of Valladolid during the reign of Alfonso VIII, being the third son of a castilian nobleman in the service of the king and a former lady-in-waiting to Queen Leonor de Plantagenet, hence my not very castilian name.
Being the third son of a nobleman, my destiny should have been to enter a monastery in the service of God, but my mother's teachings and my natural talent for languages enabled me before I was fourteen to speak and write latin, greek, arabic and mozarabic (the language spoken in the borderlands between the christian and muslim kingdoms of the peninsula), and even to communicate without too much trouble with the fierce men from the north who came to the court seeking to trade.
This knowledge of languages helped me to enter the court of King Alfonso VIII as a scribe and translator of arabic texts shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Months after my arrival at court I was assigned to the service of Ambassador Rodrigo of Alcántara to assist him in the preparations for the journey I intend to document in this diary.
23rd March in the year of our Lord 1183.
A few weeks after my eighteenth birthday and benefiting from the arrival of spring and the fact that the days were getting longer, we set out from Burgos, taking advantage of a truce agreed between the King of Castile Alfonso VIII and the Almoravid Emir Ali ibn Yusuf, a truce agreed for the sole purpose of rearming, resuming the attack at a later date and dealing with other more troublesome enemies, the Kingdom of León in the case of Alfonso and the Almohad invaders in North Africa in the case of Yusuf.
In agreement with King Alfonso, Don Rodrigo has decided to leave for Cordoba with a small retinue of just a dozen people; besides myself and Ambassador Rodrigo, half a dozen hardened men-at-arms, a priest, four servants and Don Rodrigo's young daughter, Jimena, who is my age and shares my interest in books.
15th April in the year of our Lord 1183.
Although the initial intention of the journey was to stop to rest only as much as necessary and without going near any inhabited place to avoid any problems, a blizzard forced us to take refuge in Andújar for several days, fortunately the safe-conducts sent by the Emir prevented us from any inconvenience.
Finally, on the morning of 15th April, we finally spotted Cordoba, arriving at the gates of its walls in the early afternoon. As soon as we cross the city walls, a new world opens up before my eyes: where in Castile there is nothing but dry fields and famine due to the drought of recent years, in Cordoba there are fertile orchards, green gardens and abundance everywhere, the cheerful life and music that have been undermining the iron almoravid authority of its early years, filling the streets in contrast to the sobriety and silence that reign in the court of Burgos.
Another totally different aspect between the old caliphate city and Castile that surprises me a lot, is the slavery issue, in Castile there are slaves but most of them are men working in the fields and mines loaded with chains, my own father has several dozens of slaves working his lands despite being a minor noble, as for the slaves girls, in Castile they wear the same heavy chains as the men and are mostly used for field work or as maids, only the richest nobles can afford to use them for other more pleasurable chores; On the other hand, as we walk through the streets of Cordoba on our way to the Emir's Palace, I can see slave girls strolling the streets peacefully, there are even some slave girls attending to their owners' businesses and proudly wearing their necklaces and markings.
Soon I notice that many of the slaves are young Christian girls, and although Don Rodrigo and I for our wider education see this fact as normal, the same does not happen with the men-at-arms who begin to protest, Don Rodrigo manages to calm them down until shortly before reaching the Palace we find a slave stall that has for sale half a dozen young christian girls completely naked, at that moment the men-at-arms draw their swords and in seconds we find ourselves surrounded by the Palace guard. In an attempt to calm the men-at-arms, Don Rodrigo tries to buy the six young women to free them, but we are all surprised by the high price the merchant is asking, and in the end Don Rodrigo can only promise the men to speak to the Emir to free them.
Seeing the high price for the slave girls, I can't help but look at Jimena and feel afraid for her, so I decide to get closer to her and ride with her the rest of the way.
When we arrive at the Emir's Palace, the guard only allows Don Rodrigo, Jimena and me to enter, forcing the rest of the retinue to stay in the guard's barracks. Once inside the palace, Jimena and I have to wait in a room full of books while Don Rodrigo meets with the Emir.
Although I am impressed by the large number of books within our reach, I cannot take my eyes off Jimena, I have known her since I entered her father's service and I have seen her grow from a youthful beauty to a beautiful black-haired woman, with a cheerful face in which her two blue-green eyes stand out.
Trying to avert my gaze from Jimena I join her and we begin to carefully open some of the books to enjoy their beautiful illustrations. When Jimena opens a book and discovers that it is in arabic, she enthusiastically asks me to read her some small extracts from several of them.
So engrossed are we in looking through the books that we don't notice the arrival of a visitor until he catches our attention with a few taps on a table, 'Welcome to Córdoba, Eric MartÃnez and Jimena RodrÃguez, I am Hafel ibn Hussein, if you will accompany me I will show you to your rooms so that you can prepare for dinner;' he greets us cordially in latin and we proceed to follow him.
When Hafel opens a door and directs Jimena to enter, I prepare to follow, but am immediately stopped by two guards who are stationed on the other side of the door, 'If I were you, I wouldn't do it my young friend;' Hafel says to me smiling; 'Only the Emir, pure guards and whoever the Emir gives permission may enter the harem, but don't worry, young Jimena will be well looked after.'
I am about to ask about the pure guards when with a sly gesture Hafel moves his hand to his crotch and makes the gesture of a knife, getting me to understand everything perfectly. We walk for several more minutes through the corridors of the Palace until Hafel opens another door and directs me to enter: 'These will be your quarters while you remain in the Palace, the two slave girls you will find inside will attend to you in whatever way you wish, you may use them as you wish, we have left you suitable clothes for dinner.'
I barely pay attention to Hafel's words, I can't get out of my amazement at the room I have been assigned, it is practically as big as my father's entire small castle, and decorated with every luxury imaginable, only joyful laughter brings me out of my astonishment and I see how two girls covered only in transparent silks approach me, to take me by the hand and lead me to a huge bathtub.
As one of the girls removes the top of my clothes the other pulls down my trousers releasing my cock and letting out a small giggle at the sight of it uncircumcised, I quickly find myself naked and my body soapy. The caresses and the rubbing of the wet body of the slaves with mine cause an unwanted effect, my cock gets completely hard and between laughs both slaves kneel in front of me to take it to their mouths and take turns to suck me until they get me to cum abundantly in their faces.
As soon as I cum I can't help but feel completely ashamed for using two young girls who are probably here against their will, although they don't seem to mind what has happened and after they finish bathing me they guide me to the bed to help me get dressed. As I approach the bed I can't hide my astonishment, there are elegant clothes on it that would make the king himself envious, they are also embroidered with the emblem of my family, but what I like most of all what I see on the bed is an elaborate book with golden inlays and blank pages that the Emir gives me to write the diary of the trip.