An excerpt from the journals of Abu Hatim ibn Sharaf, 1111

Kalipha Yusef I had a dream; a dream for all of Islam. A strong union that could stand against the storm of Christianity that gathers in Europe. He chose an architect for that dream. He chose me. Now the dream is dead, and so is he, but I linger on.

When Yusef rose to the throne he raised me up as well. "You know many tongues my friend," he told me, "and speak smoothly in all of them. I have need of your services."

I told him that what he wanted was beyond me, and that I served only Allah. Had I been as persuasive as he thought perhaps I would have convinced him. But had I possessed the skill to convince him, perhaps I would not have failed.

My first failure was in Spain. The faithful feared their Spanish ruler and his vitriolic priests. My task was to smooth the waters between them and stop the strident cries for help that my Kalipha could not long ignore. But the persecutions only grew, and my pleas to Alphonso VI fell on deaf ears. "Let us sign a treaty," he said in his honeyed voice. "So that your Kalipha can conduct matters in the south without interference from me, or any other Christian nation that would have to march through my lands." As if the Italians could not cross the Mediterranean without leave of the King of Spain. What he wanted was to conduct matters in the north of Spain without interference; to continue to turn a blind eye to the growing threat hanging over the heads of his Muslim subjects.

So my Kalipha, who would have chosen to be a man of peace, slew the king of Spain and all his line. For ten long years he has ruled the Christian lands of northern Spain, maintaining an uneasy peace within his own borders. He would say to me "we finally settled with the bandits and rebels of the Sahara, and now again my armies are wasted on policing my own people."

I traveled the roads of Spain, seeking those who would listen. The few believers who had suffered persecution appealed to their new governors for retribution. Many more who had only feared persecution appealed as well. Some govern well, some govern poorly, but the revolts were inevitable. I tell myself they were at least, since it fell upon me to prevent them, and I could not.

The Christians thought that our army without armor could not stand against good Christian men encased in metal with their God on their side. I tried, as a last resort, to tell them that our veteran soldiers had been hardened in the deserts; our generals trained by necessity to deal with rebellion harshly.

Two thousand armored Christians marched on Leon. A thousand were slain, the remainder enslaved. Our armies lost less than a hundred men. The Kalipha cried out at the senselessness of it, for the losses on both sides, but what could be done? What could I have done?

The Kalipha spoke kindly of a new assignment for me, in the distant court of the Ottoman Turks. Would that he had just had me killed for my failure. I fled in shame. I journeyed years across Europe and Asia, to the throne of the Sultan.

When I arrived the Turks were already at war with the mighty empire of the Byzantines. Surely the path was clear before me. The Sultan should welcome the chance to have Islam unite against his foes. The path was clear, so I must have missed my steps. The Sultan spat back angrily "Words! You offer me words! Your Kaliph will speak harshly of my enemies while he sits safely in Africa counting his gold. What do I care?"

I tried to explain that from the moment he had ascended the throne Yusef had driven the people of Tunis as hard as a ruler can drive his people. The harbor was complete and soon an Islamic fleet would begin to take form in the Mediteranean. Yusef could drive the Byzantines from their island strongholds; Crete, Cyprus, Rhodes, then threaten the mainland itself. This would ease the pressure on the mighty Turkish armies. When Yusef had told me this vision, in his plain spoken way, I could not help but see the obvious. Why could I not make it clear to the Sultan?

I should have failed less spectacularly. I did not give offense, and I left with my head, but I'm afraid that I made a poor impression on the Sultan's courtiers. That may have encouraged the mad Pharoh. Had I procured an alliance against the Byzantines with the Sultan his Egyptian allies would have had little choice but to go along, uniting the Islamic nations. Instead, I returned to Morocco to find the Kalipha in harried council with his generals. The Egyptian army was on the march.

My master still did not lose faith in me. Or perhaps he thought my next failure would cost me my head and he could be shed of me. I was dispatched to Egypt. The son and heir, Prince Yusef, had marched from Tunisia and driven the Egyptians back across the border. There had been no loss of life. The Kalipha did not seek any vengence. There was, and is, no reason for this war to continue.

But Al-Mustali I no longer provided a dwelling for reason. The disease that was stealing his sanity seemed obvious, and it was no surprise to me that it took his life shortly after he refused to speak to me any further on the subject of peace, or a united Islam. I lingered in Antioch through the endless death rituals of the Egyptians, and saw Al-Mustali II ascend the throne. I wonder now if disease brought his father to madness, or if it is merely the sad lot of his family.

The new Pharoh does not know why his father ordered the attack in the first place. His own generals tell him that he does not have the forces in Africa to challenge the Kaliphate, as they told his father. In spite of this, he will follow his father's path. He insists that there be war.

It broke my heart to report this to my Kalipha, and I suspect broke his as well. He died soon after. It was left to me, when his son arrived from the desert front, to explain his father's vision. There may be some skirmishing required, but there is no real threat from Egypt. The invasion of the Byzantines can occur as long planned, and the Sultan of the Turks will bring sense to the Egyptians. Islam, once united against the Byzantines, can be united for decades.

Yusef II is no follower of Islam, though he hides it well so as not to insult his people. His answer to me was clear. "If the Egyptians cannot see that we are united by common faith and common blood, they will see us united by blood spilled, and my faith in my sword."

There will be war, far more than the mad Pharohs of Egypt had hoped for. Yusef II shares his father's vision of the Islamic nations united, but he will unite them under his own iron rule.