Sayyida

CHAPTER ONE

As she kissed her young rescuer, Sayyida couldn’t help but wonder at the softness of his lips, the eyes that had looked intensely into her own.  She sensed a kindred spirit.  You saved my life, Davin.  For that, you shall never lose me.

Swimming the ten meters felt like ten blocks as the waves tried again and again to prevent them from reaching one of Grace’s rowboats.

When at last Davin grabbed the side with her hand, she knew she had precious little energy to haul herself up into the boat.

With her last bit of strength, Davin pulled herself out of the water and into the boat, helping Sayyida up and over the side before collapsing on the bottom of the small boat.

Landing on top of Davin, Sayyida rested her head upon Davin’s shoulder.  We...must get...back to the battle.

Inhaling deeply, Davin nodded.  Aye.  I need a moment.  I do not believe my arms capable of climbing right now.  They are still there, right?

Sayyida raised her face inches from Davin’s.  You are either a lunatic or a fool for jumping in after me.  You do not even know me.

Davin stared into her intense dark eyes, Neither.  I am a loyal crew member of Grace O’Malley and her instructions were clear: protect you at all costs.

Sayyida did not blink as she gazed into Davin’s face.  The air around them suddenly quiet, the waves somehow dampened against the side of the boat.

Ever so slowly, Sayyida al Hurra lowered her mouth to Davin’s and kissed her for a long, tender moment, a kiss that Davin gently returned.  Sayyida was a consummate kisser with a softly probing tongue and gentle mouth.  It was easy to return her affection of gratitude.

I...uh....

Shhh...Davin of Ireland and kiss me again.  Perhaps doing so will revive your limbs enough to get us back to the ship.

Davin continued to kiss this exotic woman she had just saved.

So, lad, came Fitz’s booming voice over the railing of the ship, while we’re fightin’ fer our lives, yer makin’ love with a Muslim pirate?  Is that how it goes?

Davin pulled away and struggled to sit up, I take it by your jaunty disposition that you won?

There was a slight pause before Fitz replied, Don’t know what the bloody hell that means, but if yer askin’ if the fightin’ is over, yeah it is.  Ladder’s comin’.

Davin waited for Sayyida to get off her before informing her that the English had lost the battle.  Taking the English ship was brilliant, Davin said, feeling a chill from the cold water as her wet clothes clung to her.

My plan would not have worked without Grace’s generous gift of her men.  Sayyida squeezed the water from her long black hair.  And you.  You are quite an unexpected pleasure.

May I inquire as to how you two know each other?

Sayyida watched as the rope ladder unfurled until it hit the water.  That is not my story to tell.  If you wish to know, you must ask Grace.  Carefully rising, Sayyida smiled at Davin, She is an astute captain and a brave warrior, but the one thing she is, more than anything else, is a true friend.  You are lucky to serve under her, Davin of Ireland, and my crew and I are fortunate to call you a friend now as well.

With that, Sayyida grabbed the ladder and started her climb.

CHAPTER TWO

Sayyida knew that Davin watched her shapely ass as she climbed the ladder.  She didn’t care that this woman dressed as a man watched.  She was grateful to the person who had saved her...None of her men had.  This woman, one who was very attractive as a man, had more chivalry than her men.  They would feel her wrath.  She looked at the deck of the English ship they had just captured and began issuing orders.  Bodies began to hit the waves as they were thrown off her deck.

Are you all right? Nodul asked from her right.

She looked at him in surprise.  His question asking the obvious was uncalled for.  Her raised eyebrow had him flushing under his scar, which crisscrossed his cheek.  Of course, I’m all right, she said shortly as she watched her men efficiently clear the deck.  Already, water was being poured to dilute the blood in preparation for mopping and scrubbing away the gore and blood.

She also watched the Irishmen who had joined with her crew to capture this English ship.  She particularly watched Davin...an interesting surprise that one.  Her eyes narrowed in conjecture, wondering if Grace would allow her to keep this one, and then she dismissed it just as quickly.  The woman, or man as she portrayed herself, was a valuable asset which neither Grace nor Davin would easily part with.  Loyalty was something she understood, something her crew would do well to understand as she remembered her fall into the water.  The man who had caused it was already food for the fish, but the man/woman who had saved her would forever have her gratitude.

Sayyida was kept quite busy as they readied the ship and turned to sail near Grace O’Malley’s ship.  She generously shared the booty from the former English ship in the form of expensive Portuguese wine, tasty dried fish, and olives.  Many toasts were made to Allah and Zanzibar as the crews were grateful for the bounty before them, living out the storm, and the impromptu battle.

Sayyida sat for a long time with Grace, recounting old times and enjoying the company of a fellow sea captain, a female one at that.  Their laughter was well-heard above the noise the men were making in their revelry.  She was very aware of the young man Davin watching them.  She wanted to ask Grace about him, but knowing it was none of her business, she kept her thoughts to herself.  Retiring to her new cabin late in the night, she longed for the touch of another human being and wondered how good the Irishman would have been.

The next day was a hive of activity as they readied their new ship to sail and familiarized themselves with the European ship.  Sayyida was concerned to hear that Davin was ill.  She went to pay her respects, but the illness had them all concerned and not knowing if it was contagious, they wouldn’t let her see Davin.  Grace sailed away as soon as her ship was ready.  Sayyida bid them farewell, wondering once again at the Irishwoman turned man and what could have been.

CHAPTER THREE

Sayyida sighed as they sailed in the opposite direction of the Irish.  She was lonely as captain, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.  The water called to her.  The sea was her mistress and no one could take that from her, not even her husband waiting for her back home in Tétouan.  Her groom, Ahmed al-Wattsi, was the King of Fes.  He had traveled to Tétouan to marry her.  She smiled as she remembered her insistence that he do this to show everyone she was not going to give up governing her province even if she did marry a king!  She, as prefect of Tétouan, was a queen in her own right!

Sayyida had married young, just sixteen, at the insistence of her father.  Her first husband was thirty years older than she and was a friend of her father’s.  Al-Mandri was not a bad man.  In fact, he sensed his bride’s intelligence and taught her about his business affairs and diplomacy.  They received permission from the Sultan of Morocco to rebuild Tétouan, which had been destroyed by the Reconquista.  When he died in 1515 she became the Governor or Queen of Tétouan in her own right.  Later, she was approached by the King of Fes, Ahmed al-Wattsi and accepted his proposal on her own terms. 

As she reminisced about her past, she wondered how long she could stay out here on the sea that she loved.  She knew the affairs of governing Tétouan would eventually call her back.  She also knew that she had to be out here to enforce the other title she had earned, Queen of the Western Seas.  She had entered into an agreement with Barbarossa of Algiers who had not only taught her about piracy but showed her how it provided a quick income.  Booty and ransom of captives helped keep her dreams alive.

When Sayyida was a child, her family had been forced into exile from Granada because of the Reconquista, the centuries-long purging of the Moors from Spain.  She never forgave them for that and began her pirating by taking or killing Christians.

Sayyida’s full name was Sayyida al-Hurra bint Ali ibn Rashid al-Alami, Hakimat Titwan.  The title of Sayyida al Hurra means ‘noble lady who is free and independent; the woman sovereign who bows to no superior authority.’  Hakima Titwan means Governor of Tétouan.

Sayyida looked about the English quarters that she would now make her own.  She sneered at the irony of possessing one of her enemy’s ships, the hated Christians whom she would abhor to her dying breath.  She had to admit they were fierce fighters and made good ships.  They had, however, tried to take her damaged ship and she had bested them.  She smiled at how they had done this.  If not for the timely assistance of Grace O’Malley’s men, they might not have accomplished this feat.  Blowing up her old ship with many English aboard who were bent on killing her and her men had been a bonus.  Climbing aboard the English ship and battling it had gotten her juices up.  She wished she could have expunged those spirits on her young savior, the delightful Davin.  Who would have thought a common sailor would speak Latin?  She grinned wryly.  There was nothing common about that sailor.  It hadn’t even phased Sayyida that the woman pretended to be a man.  She knew the pleasure of both sexes and indulged whenever and wherever it pleased her.  Her husband understood.  In fact, so long as she was faithful to him and the children they had were proven to be his, he did not object to her little eccentricities.

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last time that Sayyida found herself attracted to a woman.  The Irishwoman had fooled most of the men on her own ship into believing that she was, in fact, a man.  Sayyida had seen her for what she really was: a man trapped in the body of a woman.  She could understand that.  She could relate.  While she relished being a woman, she hated the conventions that said she must act a certain way because she was a woman.  Men had so much more freedom and that was what Sayyida craved.  She wanted her freedoms and, as a queen, she was taking them.

She looked out to her beautiful seas as she manned the wheel, looking back to the deck to watch her men as they busied themselves with sailing the unfamiliar ship and learning her foibles.  Each ship had a personality.  Each ship was different. They headed for Rabat to affect repairs and take on supplies.

Sayyida couldn’t know that she was heading into a port that was a beehive of anger.  Although Grace O’Malley had mentioned she had just come from Rabat, she hadn’t mentioned any particulars.  Apparently, she had bested Turgut Reis, a notorious pirate in his own right.  Sayyida was amused to find that Grace had parlayed with him, only to have him try to renege, and she turned it around on him.  In the bargain, she’d gotten many beautiful women freed from slavery under the Turkish pirate.  The joke was on him and he was furious.  Sayyida cautioned her men about mentioning that they had just met up with Grace, knowing that someone, somewhere, would talk.  She didn’t need Reis as her enemy.  She simply wanted her new ship outfitted and then to move on so she could hunt more of the Christian ships and return home satisfied that she had filled her coffers as full as she could and returned to the sea some of the people who had cost her family its home in Granada.

Her men were quick to go ashore and find the supplies she needed, but they were also quick to head to the numerous taverns.  She had those who stayed aboard keep extra vigilant watch because she knew someone would speak out of turn and with Turgut Reis on the warpath against Grace O’Malley, she could rightly assume that some of his anger was for women captains in general.  She stayed alert.

It took until the next morning before many of their repairs and alterations were done.  Many of the crew had returned worse for wear from drinking forbidden drinks in the port, but they worked through their hangovers, knowing their captain would accept no excuse.  She was there watching the work in progress when she saw a small contingent of men coming down the docks towards where her own ship was tied up.

Watch, was the only word that passed her lips.  Her seconds looked up at the word and looked around.  Seeing what she saw, word quietly and quickly spread amongst her men.  By the time the Berbers went to board her ship, they were met with men carrying Saracen swords.  Sayyida had made that a priority on her supplies list, that every one of her men was so armed.  The Kilij was a saber, a type of one-handed, single-edged, and moderately curved sword that was favored by the Turks.  Its popularity had spread throughout the Mediterranean and her men had new ones, sharpened to a fine point and ready for action.

We need to speak to your captain! one of the men stated angrily.

State your business here.  She can hear you!

Turgut Reis demands that your captain come to see him.

Who is he to command me? Sayyida called down, leaning over the bridge to look down on her guests.  She nearly laughed.  Her men commanded a better position and all had their swords drawn and ready to use.  Her archers were standing back a pace, out of sigh of the Berbers who were being so demanding.

The man was clearly at a loss to know how to respond to a mere woman.  How dare she ask him, a man, questions?  Turgut Reis was the leader here!  The man clearly knew who Sayyida was though.  He had thought she would obey; He was wrong.  Sayyida was amused, but not a muscle twitched on her beautiful face as she waited him out.  She knew most men didn’t have the patience to deal with a woman, especially an intelligent woman.  Most pirates had only one or two uses for a woman—as a servant or for fucking—otherwise, they dismissed them.  He seemed to be of this ilk and was uncertain how to proceed without his captain’s counsel.

Sayyida decided to make the decision for him, You can tell your captain he is welcome to come here to my ship if he would like to parlay.  She had no idea that Grace O’Malley had used that exact word with Reis or the affect it would have on his men.  She saw their immediate anger and wondered at it.  Later, she would realize they thought it another female trick.  She saw them briefly discuss what to do and, without responding to her, turn and walk away down the dock.

Sayyida watched as they went, wondering at the summons.  Gather the men quickly and quietly, she commanded her seconds.  Get everyone on board and soon.  Anyone too drunk to come of their own accord, pick them up.  Anyone who refuses, tell them we will have no choice but to leave them.  Groups of men left the ship shortly thereafter in search of the shipmates they didn’t wish to leave behind.  The men were family, a special family, but even among family there were closer friendships and none of them wished to be left behind.  In the hours before they would have to depart, Sayyida watched as men returned on their own, some assisted by their mates, and others clearly prisoners, too drunk to realize that their own mates were keeping them from a fate they did not wish to contemplate.  Reis, if he found any of her men ashore, might not take too kindly to her refusal to meet.  It was as the last of them were coming aboard that she saw a large contingent of men following an older man down the dock towards their ship.

Turgut Reis was a man past his prime with salt and pepper hair throughout his head and beard.  He had scars all down his neck and arms.  Behind him were Corsairs, their blades glittering in the setting sun.  Sayyida watched through lowered lids as they made their way to her gangway.  As the Corsairs went to follow their captain aboard she called down, Reis only, and one of her archers shot at the foot of the gangway in front of them.

Reis looked up at the female captain, at her men so ready to fight, and then back at his own who had followed, some to fight and some to observe.  He couldn’t afford to lose face.  He had already lost face to Grace O’Malley, but that bitch would pay.  Oh, yes, she would pay.  He contemplated taking this