On the second floor of Dabajia Palace, Surt stared irritably at the room opposite his temporary office, hoping that one of the dozen or so men inside would suddenly leap out and tell him, "I know a shocking secret about the Sultan."
But more than ten days had passed, and these brothers and nephews of the Moroccan Sultan had offered nothing of value besides begging for mercy. He had no choice but to begin arranging the defenses of Marrakesh, preparing for Suleiman's army to strike back.
Yet he had only 3,500 Portuguese and spanish soldiers, along with 4,000 Algerian troops. Without ammunition resupply, he had no confidence that he could hold this place for long.
Just then, his staff officer hurried in, waving a letter excitedly. "Commander, they agreed! They agreed!"
Surt hurriedly rose to his feet. "The General Staff Headquarters agreed to let us withdraw? No, the news couldn't have reached Paris and returned so quickly."
"It's the Moroccan Sultan." The staff officer said loudly, "He accepted most of the terms, including recognizing rule by Spain over Tangier, Tetouan, and northern Sera.
"And he declared the Wazzan Tribe and the various Rif tribes to be 'enemies of the Sultan.' No Moroccan may provide them with support..." Surt's eyes flew wide. He snatched the letter and unfolded it.
The letter was from Soldano. It said, "Because the military plan in Marrakesh was highly successful, diplomats from Spain are currently negotiating with Moroccan officials over the details of a ceasefire."
"Why would this happen?" Surt frowned at the staff officer and said cautiously, "This may be Suleiman's scheme to confuse us. Tell the soldiers not to let down their guard."
The Moroccan army never came. Four days later, an officer from Spain arrived in Marrakesh with a large quantity of supplies