Since then the winds had been kind, carrying the small fleet steadily northward from the sunlit ports of Granada toward the grey waters that separated the Mediterranean dream from the iron reality of the North.
Al-Hakam stood at the prow of the lead galley his eyes fixed on the horizon. He brought fifty of his finest Mamluks, each man hand-picked for loyalty and skill with blade and bow.
He had loaded the holds with the finest goods Granada could offer... bolts of linen spun on the new machines, chests of gold and jewels, spices from the East, and rare silks that would make even the richest English lord pause.
After all, one did not arrive at the Lion's door empty-handed.
Yet the true treasure he carried was hope. He expected new blueprints from Ragnar... designs that would push Granada's factories beyond anything the Caliphate had ever imagined.
