They called it the wine that was not wine.
A black, bitter drink brewed from a seed no wider than a fingernail - and men crossed deserts, defied kings, and staked whole fortunes to carry it.
High in the terraces of Yemen, where thin mountain air and seasonal rains ripen the finest beans on earth, the House of al Ghanim has built its name on coffee. From the dust of the inland market at Bayt al-Faqih to the crowded wharves of Mocha, from the coffeehouses of Cairo to the golden court of a sultan who walks his palace by night, a single small bean travels with merchants, scholars, and storytellers - and it carries far more than trade. It carries a marriage held together by a knot. A legend that is three-quarters lie. A poem that outlives the man who wrote it. A woman who will not be led. And the long, stubborn memory of a family that refuses to be forgotten.
Spanning two centuries and half a world, The Bean and the Sultan is a sweeping saga of ambition and faith, of love and loss, and of the quiet ideas that move along the caravan routes and remake empires one cup at a time.
For readers who savor the panoramic, deeply rooted history of James Michener, the intimate epic sweep of Colleen McCullough's The Thorn Birds, and the lyrical, living past of E. L. Doctorow, Arabia is a series to be lingered over - and Book Three stands proudly on its own.
Pour a cup. The story is about to begin.