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Prizes generously donated by Scholastic Children's Books

Beyond the Hedges

‘I don’t know how you can bear to read books all day, ‘Amirah said bitterly, resting her feet on an orange tree branch. ‘The real world cannot be interpreted by words! I will be educated by proof of my eyes and my eyes alone. I can show you tangible knowledge come, climb over the hedge and run to Córdoba with me!’
Amirah was Yusufs cousin. At fourteen, two years older than Yusuf, she had bubbly black hair and enormous eyes like copper doubloons.
Moodily, Yusuf twisted an under-ripe orange off its stalk and stroked the clinging green skin.
‘Don’t, theyre not ripe,’ Amirah scorned. She cast her eyes sagely to the city outside the palace. She seemed restless, troubled not her usual self at all.
Yusuf dismissed her. Plenty more.
Amirah and her mother, Hadbaa, had been summoned from their hometown of Córdoba to the Alhambra palace
a few weeks ago by Yusufs father, Sultan Mohammed VII of Granada, as the city of Granada was the only really safe place in Spain for Muslims; Christians were driving the religion out of the country.
Yusuf never tired of hearing Amirahs affectionate stories about Córdoba. Amirah told him how she played in the dust outside city bars which roared with sweaty laughter; how she ran in
churchyards and made friends with the Christian children; and together they would pluck all the grapes that hung from the vines on the church, and stamp on them to try to make wine. Yusuf always wanted to know about outside the hedges as he called it. For there was always some neat, spiky hedge, spread like a vicious guard-dog; or a line of majestic yew trees standing solemnly like sentries, or a thickly-stuccoed wall, the curly patterns of which seemed to snarl at him and lick their lips that
made sure he didn’t go beyond the palace. Yusuf was meant to be being educated in the skills he would need when he was sultan, but Amirah hated anything inside. She encouraged Yusuf to frolic with her all day in the Spanish sun, dancing in the fountains and carving prayers in the soft, creamy walls of the palace. Amirah liked to name her thoughts as she would name children in her rambling script:’ Rana, Muna, Haalimah,’ she wrote. Gazing, wishing, dreaming…

‘Please come away with me!’
Amirah’s eyes darkened imploringly like burning Demerara sugar.
‘My responsibility lies here.’
‘Do you know what my mother said to me’ Amirah said loftily, ignoring him, ‘She told me what my name meant. My mother’s name, Hadbaa, means with long eyelashes. Amirah means leader, princess. I’ve decided to lead you into the world. Cousin, we shall live like kings!’
‘But we already are of the sovereign,’ Yusuf put in. ‘One day, I shall be Sultan of Granada.’
‘Kings of the streets and fields, not of some diminishing state! Your father does not rule a single soul but his own sanity.’
‘Children!’ A woman swept back the leaves of the orange tree: it was Aunt Hadbaa. ‘Daughter, you must let Yusuf get on with his studies. You can help me with my weaving.’

* * *

Amirah was sitting on the fountain in the Patio of Lions, her feet resting on a stone lioness. Her mind was resolved. Since the old sultan had died, Yusuf had been obliged to marry immediately, so he could settle as the new sultan and fight the Christians who were squeezing the last of Islam back to Africa. Amirah had had four years to think about it, and she knew she couldn’t stay a day longer. From the fountain, Amirah could see the city’s most beautiful church: San Miguel de Escalada. She didn’t even jump when Yusuf joined her, putting his arm around her waist, and handing her a huge orange, so ripe it was nearly bursting out if its zest.
She took it, smiling slightly. Gazing mournfully at the little church’s definite silhouette, she said, ‘Look at its sharp spire and coloured glass. Perhaps as tranquil as a mosque.’
‘How can you think of churches,’ Yusuf said wryly, ‘when we are about to be married in the eyes of Allah’
‘Islam and Christianity,’ Amirah answered, ‘are they not the same religion Both are monotheist, both follow only God’s word. I believe Islam should negotiate with Christianity and turn Spain into a tolerant republic, accepting that God’s word can be understood in different ways not argue that their interpretation is better, and split Spain apart.’
‘But Muslim refugees are pouring into Granada. Soon the city will be strong enough to preserve itself from Christianity indefinitely!’
Yusuf was surprised and hurt. He had thought he knew Amirah’s mind better than his own. But she was showing him a new facet of it that frightened him.
‘Christians will personify God! Crucifixes, statues!’
His face was weary and he mourned the death of his father. He was only sixteen; how could he guard the city on his own, without Amirah’s whole trust
‘I asked you once to follow me beyond the hedges,’ she said sadly. ‘You still know nothing, despite how many books you have read. If you still won’t trust me, Yusuf, then I must join
others in Córdoba who feel the same. I told you once I was Amirah, the Leader, the Princess. But it has taken me seventeen years to discover what to lead others in. The girl you loved was Haalimah Dreaming. I have never had enough courage before to do what I am about to do. I am changed, Yusuf.’
She lifted her veil and kissed him once, and said, her beautiful eyes shining with beads of crystal, ‘My love remains with you.’
She didn’t look back. Yusuf saw her run to the nearest hedge, and, still in her silk wedding dress, she did what she had once promised to do. She hoisted herself up the hedge, scratching herself on the prickly leaves, and had disappeared into the city long before he came to his senses.