Thiago: Hidalgo of the New World

By Anas Hamshari and Caroline Snodgress

Thiago Rodrigo Sebastian Ortega is a proud member of the Ortega family, which can trace its lineage back to the days of Charlemagne. With roots in Spain and a childhood spent in the Spanish colony of Cartagena de Indias, he has always wanted to see more of the world. More importantly, he has always wanted to see the "Old World." However, when Thiago wakes in a cell somewhere off the Mediterranean coast where no one speaks his language, he realizes that he might have gotten more than he had bargained for. From beholding the horrors of slavery to being worked to the bone in the lower deck of a galley, Thiago struggles to keep up his hope for a brighter future. Eventually, he finds himself in the home of his new so-called master—a man named Nimir. Here, life is easier for Thiago, but what does Nimir exactly want from him? How can he achieve greatness without true freedom? Thiago will soon find himself at sea once more, where he belongs, but there is trouble to be found aboard each ship as well as adventure. New and familiar faces pull him in different directions, and Thiago must ask himself who he sides with, and what he believes in. As he recalls life before imprisonment throughout the narrative, Thiago will investigate whether or not he still identifies with his old self, and will discover just how much a new culture can challenge old beliefs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anas Hamshari
• Release date: Jun 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201149420

Anas Hamshari

Renowned as a master storyteller, Anas Hamshari’s compelling narratives are imbued with an unparalleled passion for history that shines with undeniable brilliance. Spanning an impressive 27 years, his illustrious career has flourished into a remarkable writing journey. With a remarkable collection of over 26 books already crafted, his creative fervor continues unabated as he works toward completing 8 more historical works. An eloquent scribe, Anas Hamshari has showcased his literary prowess by successfully completing over 55 ghostwritten historical novel projects since 2018. In addition to his writing accomplishments, he has also ventured into the world of leather bookbinding and marbling, aspiring to blend these newfound crafts with his enduring love for crafting books and upholding traditional values.

Book preview

Anamnesis

Enthralled by his familial lineage, Thiago’s thoughts wandered back to the earliest days of his family’s history. His ancestors were of Castilian descent, tracing their roots to the days of Charlemagne and the Franks. While his family, the Ortegas, lacked the influence and power of rival contemporaries such as the Mendozas, they remained faithful to the righteous Iberian monarchs for almost eight centuries.

Within the stillness of his cell, amidst the obscurity of night, Thiago murmured with a tranquil countenance, Ortega, I am. With earnestness, he proceeded to recollect the fables of his ancestors, tales that had been imparted to him by his father and grandfather. Among these narratives, he recounted the chronicle of a celebrated Ortega, who had gallantly accompanied Charlemagne and a humble band of warriors on an arduous expedition to thwart the encroaching Moors. The triumph of Charlemagne had propelled him to bestow expansive domains upon his loyal followers, among them being Thiago’s esteemed forebear, who had been granted an estate of moderate dimensions situated to the south of Toledo, spanning a formidable expanse of four leagues. As Thiago permitted his mind to wander through the corridors of time, he ultimately discovered the sought-after solace he longed for in the resplendent exploits of yore, preferring to bask in the grandeur of bygone eras rather than immerse himself in the somber realities of his present predicament.

During the early crusades, the Ortegas had chosen to remain in Spain, selling their lands near Toledo to support Alfonso VII’s efforts to drive the Moors to the southernmost end of Iberia. In 1236, Miguel Santos Ortega, a celebrated knight, played a critical role in the siege of Cordoba, securing a chivalric victory by scaling and capturing a strategic tower that led to the city’s surrender. As a result, the children of Spain gained control over one of the world’s most magnificent cities. The armies of Christendom eventually dealt the final blow to the Moors in 1492, with the capture of Granada. The majority of the Moors were either expelled or slaughtered, while the remaining populace was forced to embrace Christianity and abandon their blasphemous ways, consigning their history to ashes.

During that period of his family’s history, Thiago’s grandfather was a young man named Sebastian Gabriel Andres Ortega. He was a staunch, devout supporter of the Castilian monarchs and had contributed to their efforts by transporting weapons and armor from Toledo to the outskirts of Granada. Moreover, he had even imported armament materials such as Sulphur from Sicily via Cartagena in the southeast. The significance of Sulphur was paramount in the final war against the Moors. However, the Ortegas had to relinquish their Sulphur trade when an up-and-coming hidalgo from the Castilian Ruiz family had taken over.

One year following the Moorish defeat, the Ortega family had returned to the city of Toledo and embarked upon a new venture: a steel foundry. Their ambitions were great, yet they faced significant challenges as domestic demand failed to meet their expectations. Despite their best efforts, the foundry had proven to be less profitable than anticipated. Gabriel, Thiago’s esteemed great-grandfather, was forced to make a difficult decision to ensure the family’s economic sustainability. He decided to divide the family into two groups. Some members remained at the beleaguered Ortega estate in Toledo, while others set out for the New World, with the guidance of Pedro Fernández de Lugo. This expedition ultimately led to the founding of Santa Marta on the New Granadan coast, forever altering the family’s destiny.

In those times, prosperity was challenging to regain in the fatherland, but the New World presented boundless opportunities for those who dared to venture on one of those perilous journeys across the mighty ocean. The New World was a land where even the most ambitious men could find more than they had ever imagined, all ripe for the taking. However, in those times, only the bravest of men had dared to leave the Old World in search of fame and glory. Their rallying cries were always the same: For God, for King, for Spain, for Gold. They had nothing to lose but their lives and yet everything to gain.

In the midst of the New World’s ongoing explorations, the Ortegas had decided to temporarily remain in the coastal town of Santa Marta to lend their support to the nascent settlement. It was during this time that a brave explorer named Pedro de Heredia set out on a bold voyage from Santo Domingo, accompanied by a group of intrepid Spanish families who had paid for their passage from Old Spain. The Ortegas eagerly joined the continuing expedition upon their arrival in Santa Marta, and together they sailed westward, traversing the boundaries of the burgeoning New Granada region. Finally, on the first day of June in 1533, the Ortegas discovered their true home when they founded the magnificent city of Cartagena de Indias, a name that had been bestowed upon the settlement by none other than the intrepid de Heredia himself.

As Thiago contemplated upon the annals of his ancestral lineage, a gradual resurgence of his innate fortitude took hold of him. For a slight moment, akin to a marine creature surfacing for a breath of air, he opened his eyes, reconnecting briefly with the realm of reality. The noisome stench of his confinement, once an assault upon his senses, now failed to perturb him; he scarcely acknowledged its existence. Within moments, the peculiar sounds that emanated from beyond the confines of his cell transposed themselves into echoes reminiscent of his cherished recollections of the untamed forests of his ancestral soil. There, he could discern the resounding growls of creatures that prowled under the nocturnal sky, the harmonious melodies woven by airborne songsters, and the hushed whispers of innumerable leaves, tenderly swayed by the gentle caress of the wind.

Thiago’s ruminations delved ever deeper into the annals of his family’s founding. Following their indomitable efforts in assisting de Heredia in the establishment of Cartagena de Indias, the Ortegas dedicated a formidable span of three years to the construction of a series of lucrative transcontinental trade routes. The inaugural route extended its tendrils from the port of San Juan, weaving its way to the thriving hub of Cartagena, while the second path coursed from the storied city to the prosperous haven of Veracruz.

In recognition of their esteemed stature, the governor of Havana had bestowed upon the esteemed Ortega lineage the noble privilege of safeguarding the transportation of precious Andean silver, traversing its routinal passage from Cartagena to the bustling shores of Havana itself. It hadn’t taken long for the Ortegas to ascend the social ladder and mingle with the elite of the New World. They had done favors for governors and legendary conquistadors and had received ample support in return. In an extraordinary twist of fate, Thiago’s grandfather, Sebastian, had always said that on the day of Thiago’s birth, the Ortegas were bestowed with a prodigious harvest from one of their esteemed tobacco estates. These coveted estates, initially bequeathed to the family as an expression of gratitude by de Heredia, stood as a testament to their invaluable contributions in the arduous task of shaping Cartagena de Indias into a vibrant bastion of colonial prosperity. In the time of the ancients, they would surely have ascribed such an omen to some nature deity, the work of Demeter, perhaps. But the Ortegas had been devout members of the one true Church and had seen the sign for what it was - a blessing from the Most Holy God. And so, on the eighteenth day of November, in the year 1536, he was christened Thiago Rodrigo Sebastian Ortega, fated to fulfill some grand destiny.

Yet, despite this auspicious beginning, Thiago’s ultimate destiny remained veiled in obscurity. Throughout the passage of years, the diligent endeavors of enterprising merchants ensured the ceaseless transportation of these prosperous tobacco harvests across the boundless expanse of the seas, consistently finding their way to the markets of the Old World. The resultant abundance of wealth bestowed upon the Ortegas allowed them to embrace a noble cause: the provision of financial support for destitute families hailing from Old Spain. These substantial funds were judiciously employed to establish these impoverished souls in burgeoning colonies of the New World, thereby further extending the illustrious dominion of Spain across uncharted territories. As a result of such charitable deeds, the Ortegas’ influence and connections increased steadily. However, from a young age, Thiago’s precise future remained indeterminate. Would he continue his forefathers’ legacy, building upon the solid foundation they had laid? Or would he steer the family in a new direction, forging an entirely distinct destiny that was solely his own? Only the passage of time would reveal the answer.

As Thiago’s focus rekindled on the present, the passage of time had exhibited a languorous demeanor, akin to a somber reflection of his own sentiments fraught with exasperation and desolation. With measured steps, he traversed the confined space, seeking solace in his lineage, yet grappling to harmonize his present confinement with the magnificence that defined his ancestral legacy.

Anguish

Sequestered from the outside realm for several days, yet no more than a mere week, Thiago’s sentiments of malaise had undergone a transfiguration, culminating in a complete and utter eruption. Gasping for breath, he hoisted himself up from the ground and commenced pounding on the door with both palms, every so often striking it with his foot near the base. His craving for liberty had reached its zenith. Let me out of here! he boisterously exclaimed, yet his plea echoed aimlessly, as though he personified nothingness itself.

In the throes of an overpowering sense of defeat, Thiago, burdened by the weight of his struggles, relinquished control of his weary body to the embrace of the muddied earth. His wearied eyelids, bearing the marks of exhaustion, submitted to the gentle pull of closure, allowing his troubled mind a moment of respite. In this vulnerable state, he sought solace in delving into the intricate web of his ancestral lineage. Like wisps of ethereal memories, his thoughts sought connection with those who came before him. Did his recent endeavors tarnish the illustrious reputation of his forebears?

Thiago labored arduously to reconstruct the enigma that had befallen his vessel. His mind was plagued by an incessant ache, compelling him to suppress any ruminations concerning the fate and welfare of his fellow seamen, for such considerations were simply too distressing to bear. Might they too have succumbed to the clutches of captivity? he mused, his innermost being gripped by an unrelenting sense of apprehension, as if the very air had been cruelly siphoned from his chamber. Shall tidings of this arduous tribulation reach my kin on this distant shore? he pondered, plagued by unease as he confronted the uncertain path that lay ahead.

The burgeoning intensity of Thiago’s headaches surged with each passing moment. He languished upon the earthen floor, utilizing his palms as an improvised cushion. Before long, weariness commandeered him once again, and he descended into a profound slumber. Nonetheless, his apprehensions persisted, permeating his dreams akin to clouds eclipsing the radiant sun. Even amidst his slumber, Thiago’s mind was inundated with an incessant deluge of inquiries, resolute in their determination to remain unquenched. The weight of these thoughts bore down upon him heavily, and even in the realm of dreams, solace eluded him. In this state of uncertainty and dread, there was little to sustain him. Restlessly, he shifted and contorted, the torment within him accentuated by the throbbing anguish that intensified with each movement. Reclining upon the dampened earth, an unsettling presence insidiously seeped into the depths of his consciousness, taking the form of a spectral symphony of hushed whispers.

How pitiful, one of the voices murmured, searing through his mind with the speed of an arrow.

They belong to me now! declared another voice, with a rough and distinctive accent, sending shivers down Thiago’s spine.

In an instant, the ethereal manifestation of his cherished Princesa materialized before his eyes, traversing the vast expanse of the sea with a deliberate and poised elegance, only to dissipate into the intangible realm once again. Amidst his staunch concentration, a faint echo of a voice reached his ears, carrying elusive words that remained veiled in enigma, their significance eluding his grasp. And then, as if summoned by some mystic force, the apparition of a vaguely recognizable gentleman materialized in his presence - an austere Spanish nobleman, adorned with a countenance of solemnity.

¿Qué hiciste? he demanded, fixing Thiago with an unwavering stare. For a moment there, it appeared as if the specter of his departed father had materialized before him.

Before Thiago could even begin to respond to this specter, the scene dissolved into nothingness. In a state of dizziness and disorientation, his consciousness suspended between wakefulness and slumber, he diligently sought the origins of the enigmatic voice that had captivated his attention. Alas, his efforts were in vain as the elusive source remained shrouded in the depths of his mind. Yet, just as confusion threatened to engulf him completely, a radiant burst of light pierced through the somber veil of his dream, illuminating his innermost being and dispelling the clouds of his anxieties. He blinked his eyes open and shielded his face from the slender ray of sunlight that had crept through a crack in the wall of this holding cell. The meager warmth on his skin reminded him that morning had arrived.

In the wake of this new day, his spirit was battered and his body was weak from surviving on meager crumbs of stale bread. As he lay there, he began to realize that his captors had a far more insidious plan than simply neglecting his basic needs. Rather, they were actively seeking to erode his resolve, to break his will, and to crush his spirit. Thiago was now faced with a daunting challenge, one that required every ounce of his strength and fortitude to overcome. For in this cruel and unforgiving world, survival depended not only on physical strength, but also on one’s ability to endure suffering and to persevere in the face of adversity.

With utmost conviction, he declared, You shall never break me! The resounding words echoed forth, borne by the strains of his parched and anguished throat. With great effort, he rose to his feet, but his strength wavered, and a wave of dizziness threatened to topple him once more. Nevertheless, he continued, his rage fueling his resolve. I shall die by the sword, but never by sorrow!

In a final act of defiance, Thiago hurled insults toward the locked cell door, defying captivity’s relentless attempts to shatter his indomitable resilience. Bastards! Cabrones! Hijos de puta! His voice grew hoarse as he pounded on the door with his fists. Open this door!

His demands echoed through the chamber, reverberating into the depths of silence. Yet, amid this void, an unmistakable sound arose, piercing the air with its metallic resonance. The rattling of keys reached his ears, breaking the stillness that had settled upon the scene. A sense of relief washed over him, and he stepped back from the door, swaying slightly. As the door creaked open, blinding light flooded into the room, rendering him momentarily blinded. Where am I? he asked, his voice subdued by the brilliance. Who are you and what do you want with me?

Two silhouetted figures came rushing at him; one of them grabbed his arm while the other pinched his ear. Ay! What are you...

Despite resisting, Thiago found himself powerless against the forces that had beset him. He could not fend off his captors, and so, he surrendered to their might. Without a word of objection, he fell to his knees, acknowledging his defeat. His captors wasted no time in subjugating him, clapping iron chains around his wrists to restrain him and fetters to shackle his ankles. He was treated like an inanimate object, devoid of any agency or will.

Thiago’s captors then seized him by the arms, hauling him away from his cell and into the unknown depths of the labyrinthine corridors. The resounding clank of chains echoed relentlessly, marking their sinister progress. For Thiago, the corridors appeared mazy, each indistinguishable from the last. His vision of doors, all identical to the one that imprisoned him, flashed before him. He was moving too fast to take in his surroundings fully, and the only sounds he could hear were the occasional groans and growls emanating from behind the doors of the other holding cells, interspersed with the unsettling silence.

Uttering words in Castillian, Thiago beseeched his captors to unveil the veil shrouding their intended course. Where are you taking me? he asked. But the question was met with a blow to the back of his head, in the same spot where he had been pistol-whipped a few days earlier. The captors remained silent as they continued dragging him along, leaving him to reel from the pain. Thiago was then dragged along a lengthy corridor, his every step accompanied by a resounding echo. Ultimately, he found himself confronted with a swinging door that beckoned him to its conclusion. Having grown accustomed to the somber gloom that pervaded the passageways, Thiago was suddenly caught off guard by the sudden and brilliant burst of sunlight. Startled, his eyes welled with tears, and his hands remained firmly bound, leaving him futilely striving to shield himself from the overwhelming brilliance that surrounded him.

After a fleeting moment, he was finally able to discern the lively scene that lay before him. It was an impressive throng, with a sea of humanity jostling shoulder-to-shoulder. The merchants were eagerly hawking their wares, while the civilians flitted from vendor to vendor in search of their desired goods. Packs of shirtless armed guards were patrolling the streets, ever vigilant in their duties to maintain law and order. On the periphery, the children, dressed in fine frocks, were playing with the alleyway cats, their laughter ringing out amidst the cacophony of sounds that filled the air. The crowds and people seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, with more stalls, more vendors, and other marketplaces further ahead. The dome-shaped buildings on the horizon looked vaguely familiar, triggering a distant memory within him. He recollected having seen the same style of architecture illustrated in a tome he had perused once upon a time.

Saracens, he murmured under his breath, as the vistas unfolding before his eyes evoked a remarkable likeness to the vestiges of the Moors in Old Spain, which he had witnessed during his most recent sojourn before succumbing to captivity.

Thiago’s gaze was fixated on the grand edifices that towered over him, their domed roofs looming above. The clamorous shouts of men perched atop tall turrets attached next to the dome structures reverberated throughout the bustling port city, beckoning all manner of men toward them like moths to a flame. Meanwhile, the lively marketplace carried on unceasingly, seemingly oblivious to the recent interruption that had diverted the attention of the menfolk. The atmosphere was replete with a melange of enchanting fragrances emanating from afar, wafting through the air and captivating Thiago’s senses, all the more heightened by the scorching rays of the sun.

In awe, Thiago goggled upon the splendid stalls adorning the labyrinthine alleys. Each stall bore witness to an opulent array of wares, captivating the eye and dazzling the mind. Vibrant garments of myriad hues and intricate designs caught his attention, while the aroma of freshly baked bread, emanating enticingly from his right, permeated the surroundings, eliciting an irresistible allure. Further along, beneath the sheltering tents, bountiful sacks brimmed with an assortment of grains, nuts, and dried fruits, alongside a multitude of enigmatic goods, whose exotic nature rendered them beyond the confines of Thiago’s knowledge. In every direction, stalls overflowed with stacks of colorful spices, their vibrant hues tempting passersby. Cardamom, saffron, cinnamon, and a myriad of other aromatic treasures added to the already heady mix of scents that permeated the bustling market. It was a feast for the eyes as Thiago’s eyes beheld trinkets that glinted in the sunlight, shimmering jewels that whispered tales of distant lands, blankets woven with intricate patterns, and raw wool awaiting skilled hands to shape them into warmth and comfort.

As Thiago continued surveying his unfamiliar surroundings, the hubbub of unfamiliar languages and the clamor of merchants and customers merged into a disorienting symphony. A hint of Spanish, French, and the occasional snatches of Italian blended together, rising above the rhythmic cadence of bartering voices. The sheer volume of sound threatened to engulf him, compounding the oppressive heat that bore down on him like a physical weight. After enduring days of captivity in a dank, forsaken space, the sensory onslaught was almost unbearable. Men and women of all walks of life bustled about their business, each dressed in their unique attire, a reflection of their cultural identities. The wealthy merchants, their status marked by a grandeur that emanated from their flowing silks and intricate embroidery, strode confidently through the vibrant crowds. Adorned with precious jewels that sparkled under the sun’s caress, they commanded attention and respect. In contrast, the common folk, humble and resilient, donned simple linen garments, their attire speaking of practicality and endurance. They haggled with vendors, their voices mingling with the chorus of animated transactions as they carried out their daily chores with grace.

In the shade of the towering turrets, groups of men gathered to mingle amongst themselves, sharing jests and tales, their conversations punctuated by hearty laughter and animated gestures. Women, their faces veiled with colorful fabrics that hinted at a hidden beauty, chatted as they tended to their children or navigated the market stalls in search of household necessities. Their veils, a symbol of tradition and modesty, swayed gently with each movement, adding a touch of mystique to the vibrant tableau. Sailors and merchants from distant lands mingled seamlessly with the locals, their clothing bearing the distinct styles and symbols of their respective cultures. Thiago, still disoriented from his recent misfortune, cast bewildered glances at the kaleidoscope of unfamiliar sights. Exotic fabrics of vibrant colors caught his attention, their origins a mystery to him. Silks of unknown provenance flowed alongside textiles adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to whisper tales of far-off lands. Meanwhile, European merchants stood out in their attire of doublets and breeches, a stark contrast to the garments he was accustomed to in the New World. Thiago couldn’t fathom the diverse cultural influences woven into the fabric of this place. The unknown and the enigmatic danced before his eyes, further deepening his sense of dislocation.

Moving toward the other end of the marketplace, Thiago’s gaze fell upon a group of foreign soldiers, their origins obscured by the unfamiliar insignias adorning their glinting armor. They strode through the bustling markets with an air of purpose, a tangible reminder of the region’s strategic significance. Their presence stirred a sense of intrigue within Thiago, igniting his curiosity about the complex political landscape that enveloped him.

Amidst the amalgamation of cultures, his attention was captured by the figures of, what appeared to be, desert nomads, their faces hidden beneath rough woolen cloaks. With each step they took, there was an inherent grace that spoke of their resilience in traversing the unforgiving desert. Thiago couldn’t help but wonder about the vastness that lay beyond the city walls, the realm from which these nomads emerged. They seemed like enigmatic gatekeepers to an unknown world, adding another layer of mystery to his already bewildering surroundings. Further along, a group of musicians, their instruments alive with rhythm and melody, played lively tunes that filled the air with infectious energy. The sounds swirled through the marketplace, drawing a diverse crowd of curious onlookers. Mesmerized, they found their feet moving instinctively to the beat, transcending linguistic and cultural barriers. Nearby, a storyteller regaled an enthralled audience with tales that entangled their every sense. Eyes widened in wonder, laughter echoed through the crowd, and imaginations soared on the wings of his words, forging connections between hearts and minds in this vibrant collage of life.

In the midst of the market’s sensory overload, Thiago’s gaze was abruptly drawn to a distressing scene unfolding before him. A group of formidable slave masters, their dark complexion a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop, had gathered nearby. Their cold, calculating eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching for potential buyers among the onlookers. The enslaved individuals, shackled and bound, were paraded before the potential purchasers. They moved with a sluggishness that betrayed their weariness, burdened by the weight of their chains. Each step seemed to echo with the sound of their confinement, a haunting reminder of their loss of freedom. Some displayed vacant stares, their spirits broken by their bleak circumstances, while others exhibited a resigned acceptance of their grim fate.

As Thiago’s captors dragged him onward, he couldn’t help but notice the vast number of captives being sold. The flesh trade in this Saracen town was more prominent than any he had seen in Cartagena, Havana, San Juan, Santiago, or even Old-World Sevilla combined. In one area, he could see rows of chained men and women being led toward a holding stockade near the glistening water of a nearby harbor. Thiago could only imagine what horrors awaited them there. Amidst the disheartening spectacle that unfolded before his eyes, and despite the distress of his captivity, Thiago could not help but feel awestruck by the unfamiliar customs and traditions that enveloped him. The people of the city, a vibrant mosaic of diverse races and cultures, contributed to the rich fabric of life in this enigmatic city.

With the populace going about their daily affairs, a cadre of guards patrolled the slave markets with an imposing presence, their robust physiques glistening under the sun’s scorching rays. Their bare torsos accentuated by turbans that adorned their heads, the guards brandished an array of weaponry that ranged from razor-sharp scimitars and lethal daggers to thunderous muskets and pistols, a clear testament to their formidable authority. As the guards continued their patrol, their eyes scanned the crowds for any signs of trouble or unrest.

Before long, Thiago and his two captors happened upon a man of grandiose demeanor, whose upper lip was adorned with a luxuriant and curling mustache. On his back, he carried an enormous urn that had a pipe jutting out from its side, the function of which Thiago could only speculate. The man strode past them, his path meandering as he clapped his hands while holding some cups. Once he had gone out of sight, Thiago’s attention was drawn toward a red-haired matron to his left, who sat on a wooden chair with an air of nonchalance, although her sharp eyes were keenly observant. Beside her, a retinue of seven or eight slave girls stood in attendance. Thiago faltered in his gait, captivated by the women’s stunning beauty. Regrettably, his mistake incurred another sharp blow from one of his guards, while the other jabbed him with a wooden rod, driving him forward. Regardless of the new spectacles that unfolded before his bewildered eyes, Thiago couldn’t escape the harrowing reality of the flesh trade that thrived on this side of the ocean. The inexorable march of this enterprise must have spanned centuries, ensnaring even those who professed to follow the teachings of Christ.

As Thiago was forcibly pulled along by his two captors, they arrived at a humble Saracen palace nestled on a winding street not far from the bustling harbor. The palace exuded an air of exotic grandeur, its sandstone walls adorned with intricate carvings and delicate tilework that spoke of a rich architectural heritage. The murmurs of life emanated from within, the sound of bustling servants and echoing footsteps adding to the enigma that enveloped the place. Thiago’s eyes were particularly drawn to the imposing double doors, their craftsmanship a testament to the skilled hands that had created them. He couldn’t help but wonder about the secrets and stories that lay behind those doors, but he remained silent, his ignorance of the Old World keeping him in a state of bafflement as his captors conversed with the residents gathered outside the palace.

Upon entering the palace, Thiago’s eyes fell upon a stern and commanding guard, his dark complexion hinting at a heritage different from his own. The guard was flanked by four youthful conscripts, their attire catching Thiago’s eye. Adorned in sashes of muted hues that were fastened above their hips, and small turbans of creamy shades gracing their heads, they presented a striking image of authority and youth. Their scimitars, glinting with bronze and steel embellishments, carried an air of both menace and craftsmanship. With his senses on alert, Thiago noticed tendrils of vapor gracefully wafting from the entrance, a captivating sight that hinted at the palace serving a purpose beyond his immediate understanding. The ethereal wisps suggested the presence of a bathhouse or a cookhouse, adding to the mystery and intrigue that surrounded him within these unfamiliar walls.

Thiago’s senses were overwhelmed by the opulence and grandeur that unfolded before him as he stepped into the palace’s magnificent hallway. Intricate stained-glass chandeliers, meticulously crafted by skilled artisans, cast a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors, immersing the room in a breathtaking glow. It was a sight that stirred Thiago’s emotions, leaving him both in awe and in a state of deep contemplation. Next, Thiago was forcefully led deeper into the palace, his senses captivated by the awe-inspiring architecture that unfolded before him. As he stepped into the steam-filled chamber, his eyes widened with wonder at the magnificent bathhouse that lay within. The walls, adorned with an array of mysterious scripts, gracefully traced across delicate blue ceramic tiles, their meaning lost to Thiago’s unfamiliar eyes. Sunlight filtered through transparent mosaic windows, casting a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors upon the marble floors. With each step on the smooth, glistening surface, danger lurked, a precarious dance on the edge of a slip.

In the bathhouse and lounge halls alike, inviting resting areas adorned every corner, with plush cushions and pillows that promised respite and comfort. The ambiance exuded a serene tranquility, as if time itself had slowed within those hallowed walls. Thiago couldn’t help but envision weary travelers and noble dignitaries finding solace, their worries washed away by the gentle embrace of the surroundings. Before he could fully take in the surroundings on the other end of the bathhouse, however, Thiago was dragged up a set of stairs to the second story. In this new hall, he saw a multitude of unfamiliar freedmen. They were adorned with elaborate mustaches and lounging on cushions on the floor, some smoking pipes connected to round glass vases. The water within the glass bubbled each time the men took a puff, lending the space an otherworldly ambiance. The men’s attire was more striking than their pipes or mustaches. The colors and styles looked so refined and expensive that it seemed they were prepared for an audience with royalty.

As Thiago was compelled to kneel before his two captors, an uneasy feeling crept upon him, signaling that a foreboding event was imminent. Despite his perilous situation, Thiago remained resolute and did not surrender to hopelessness. Instead, he summoned the inner strength to focus on his stunning surroundings and on the two captors flanking him. Carefully turning his head, he scrutinized the captor to his left with great attention to detail. This bare-chested man possessed the appearance of a virile individual with skin resembling the luster of polished bronze, a profusion of hair covering his chest, and a bristly countenance. When their eyes met, the guard spat out an obscene curse and viciously lashed out at Thiago with a chain he held in his hand. The cruel blow deeply lacerated Thiago’s visage, causing it to recoil toward the ground. However, Thiago refused to falter and held his head high as he recovered from the pain.

Thiago’s attention then shifted toward the captor on his right. This individual was the epitome of a roisterer, ruffian, and swashbuckler all wrapped up into one. His complexion was lighter than his counterpart to the left, his mustache bushier, and his figure more imposing. Both guards, nonetheless, exuded an air of ferocity, bolstered by the presence of their ominous swords. Although the blades appeared excessively large, it was evident that they were deadly weapons in the right hands.

The passage of time weighed heavily upon Thiago, and his muscles ached as he knelt upon the hard marble-tiled surface. If only he could stand, or perhaps rest upon the cushions he had spotted earlier, he would not be tormented by such physical distress. But as he knelt there, shackled and defenseless, Thiago could only endure and hope for a reprieve from his plight. The melodic twittering of birds close by captured his senses; he lifted his eyes to behold an impressive oriel window adorned with an expansive cage. Within the cage, the birds warbled joyfully, bringing a momentary respite to the splendor of the palace. While marveling at the window, he took note of the intricate carvings on the wooden latticework and the clouded stained glass that enshrined it, finding that this design was a recurrent feature on the second floor.

Yet, Thiago’s serenity was quickly shattered as his eyes peered beyond the stained glass at the scene from afar. The harbor emerged into view, and he beheld a dozen cages suspended from tall timber poles. Initially, he surmised that they contained beasts or large birds, but as he scrutinized the lower regions of the cages, he discerned human legs protruding from them. Thiago’s throat constricted, and he shut his eyes, struggling to regain his composure. As his eyes flickered open, the sight beyond the window once again beckoned his attention. A ghastly spectacle was unfurling before him, atop a wooden stage of sorts, as three guards administered a brutal beating to a man who was shackled in chains. The scene was both gruesome and heart-wrenching, leaving Thiago to ponder the identity of the hundreds of individuals standing in line. It was difficult to discern whether they were wrongdoers facing punishment or hapless victims, much like Thiago himself.

In an instant, Thiago’s attention was yanked away from the pitiful souls outside and directed to his own predicament. A colossal, fair-skinned man, sporting a peculiar crimson headgear and a rotund belly protruding from his leather jerkin, stumbled toward Thiago and his two captors. As he approached, the man spoke a language that Thiago couldn’t understand. The words tumbled out of his mouth at a rapid pace, resembling the droning of bees in the summertime. It was an entirely alien tongue.

Thiago, in his native Castilian tongue, dared to inquire, What tongue do you speak? However, he should have known better than to speak up, or even ask questions. The guard to his right delivered another forceful blow to Thiago’s side, causing him to collapse to the ground while kneeling on the marble tiles. Weakened from the initial blow, Thiago was left lying prone on the floor by his captors. Despite the brutal assault, the three Saracens continued their discussion without giving a second thought to the hapless Thiago.

After a brief exchange, the two captors effortlessly hoisted Thiago up, their sinewy muscles straining under his weight. They carried him with swift, purposeful strides in the direction pointed out by the crimson headgear-wearing man. Thiago’s heart pounded in his chest, his eyes darting around in concern as he was led away. Moments later, they arrived at a