The Book of Saladin (22 page)

“The Sultan wishes you to dine with him tonight and Uncle Shadhi wishes you a good appetite. He will eat with you tomorrow.”

With these words a self-satisfied and grinning Amjad left my chamber. I smiled at Shadhi’s message. The old man had been in his element during our march from Cairo to Damascus, but he was suffering from tiredness and ill-humour. Since our arrival he had kept to his own quarters. I was delighted to hear that he was well, and looked forward to our meeting. I had already bathed and had thought of writing a detailed account of the desert for my own book, but once again Salah al-Din had interrupted my labours.

He was seated with two men whom I had seen in his company a great deal since our arrival here. From their demeanour they appeared to be emirs, which they certainly were, but they were also the Sultan’s favourite nephews, Farrukh Shah and Taki al-Din. They were brothers, sons of the Sultan’s oldest brother, Shahan Shah, who had died when Salah al-Din was only ten years old. He loved both of them and each competed with the other in audacity on the field of battle. They reminded him of Shirkuh, and in them he had invested a great deal of love and trust.

He introduced me to them in turn, and both stood to embrace me.

“Our future depends on you,” laughed Taki al-Din. “If you write badly of us we will be forgotten, but if you write truthfully the memory of what our clan has achieved will remain till our Maker decides that the time has come to end this world.”

“Tell me, master scribe,” asked his brother, “is there any such thing as absolute truth? Do you report different versions of the same event? Do you consult more than one source? After all, much of what you are writing comes to you from the lips of our esteemed uncle. Naturally he will not talk of those events in which he disappointed himself.”

I looked at the Sultan, who burst out laughing.

“I may not, but Shadhi, as we all know, can always be relied upon to make up for my deficiencies. And now that we are in Damascus, Ibn Yakub has two extra informants in the shape of you devils. Kindly do not forget that he is engaged in writing my memories and these can only be experienced by me.”

This little family exchange made a reply from me redundant. I smiled, as good scribes sometimes do, but remained silent. The arrival of the food provided another diversion. The younger men looked at my face as I observed the variety of dishes being placed before us and burst out laughing. Farrukh Shah exchanged a meaningful look with me.

“I can tell you’re not used to meat at our uncle’s table! He will just eat a bowl of broth tonight followed by fruit. What we have before us is lamb marinated in herbs and freshly grilled. It was our great-uncle Shirkuh’s favourite dish, and today is the day of his birth. We owe it to ourselves to remember him in the fashion he would have appreciated.”

The Sultan frowned at the frivolity.

“Better you eat it on his birthday rather than to mark the day he died. I saw him die and it was a painful sight. Mimic his capacities as a great leader of men and a fighter of tremendous spirit, but avoid his vices. All our great men of medicine have warned against over-indulgence on any front.”

Salah al-Din’s annoyance sobered his nephews. They bowed their heads to acknowledge his warning. The rest of the meal was virtually silent, but after the food had been cleared and mint tea served, I realised that this was not a casual gathering. As he prepared to speak, the Sultan indicated that I should ready my pen.

“What I say about the sons of my dead brother, Taki al-Din and Farrukh Shah, I wish to say in their presence. I feel closer to these two men than anyone else in my family. They are not just my nephews, but also two of my ablest generals.

“My own sons are young, and if anything were to happen to me I would expect Taki al-Din and Farrukh Shah to protect my children from the vultures that will start circling the cities we have made our own. If I die soon, I want Taki al-Din to sit in Cairo and Farrukh Shah to rule Damascus. The other places should be divided amongst my brothers and their children, but Damascus and Cairo are the real jewels of our kingdom. Without them we are reduced to nothing. They are the cities which will enable us to drive out the Franj.

“For almost ninety years, the Franj have been prowling on our lands like wild beasts. Few, if any, now remember a time when they were not here. When they first arrived we were unprepared. We panicked. We betrayed each other for gain. Later we made alliances with the Franj against our own brethren. Sultan Zengi and the great Sultan Nur al-Din understood that the only way to drive out the Franj was to unite ourselves. As is known this unity does not come without the sacrifice of much blood.

“Look at the situation today. The Franj still occupy many towns near the sea as well as al-Kuds. I want to divide our armies into three carefully organised, well-knit instruments under the command of myself and my two brave nephews. I will concentrate on taking either Aleppo or Mosul, though preferably both. That will make us the mightiest power in these our lands. At the same time I want you, Taki al-Din, to strike at the heart of the Franj in Palestine. Let them think that this is part of a big push to take al-Kuds, their beloved Kingdom of Jerusalem. Inflict defeats, but do not delay too long in one place. Strike fear in their hearts. I want them fully preoccupied so that they have no time to even think of helping our enemies in Aleppo and Mosul.

“Farrukh Shah, you will stay here and guard this city and its borders with your life. I have received reports of your extravagant style and your propensity to leave the treasury depleted. I never wish to hear any such complaint again. Your father and grandfather were men of simple tastes. I have learnt that to win the respect of the people and, in particular, our soldiers, one must learn to eat and dress like them. We are the lawgivers, Farrukh Shah. We must observe each law and set an example. I hope I have made myself clear. Never forget that even though we rule, we are still seen as outsiders. It is only now that the Arabs are beginning to accept me as their Sultan. The future of our family depends on how you behave and how you rule. Never forget that a man is what he does.

“If you hear that the Franj are sending exploratory expeditions to test our defences, go out and crush them. We will talk again tomorrow, but make preparations for our departure within a week.

“Our destination must be kept a secret. I do not wish you to even tell your wives where we are headed. If people ask, reply: ‘The Sultan is still making up his mind.’ If, in my absence, which I hope will be brief, Damascus is seriously threatened, inform me without delay. We must never lose this city. Go now and rest. I wish to speak with Ibn Yakub on my own.”

The nephews, chastened by the Sultan’s words, bent and kissed their uncle in turn on both cheeks. He rose to his feet and hugged them both. They shook hands with me and departed.

“I wanted you to come with me, Ibn Yakub, but I am worried by Shadhi’s health. He has always accompanied me on my campaigns, but, as you can see, he is getting older and frailer by the day. Any day now Allah could summon him to heaven. He is my only link with the older generation. All the others have gone. He is, after all, as you know, my grandfather’s son. I have such happy memories of him. He was a great influence on my youth and I have always relied on him a great deal. Allah has blessed me with good and strong advisers, men like al-Fadil and Imad al-Din. No Sultan could ask for more, but even they find it difficult sometimes to resist some of my more irrational decisions.

“Shadhi alone never fears to speak the truth and call me an obstinate ass and talk me out of some foolish notion that had entered my head. Shadhi is not a scholar, but he has a strong instinct for what is right or wrong in the field of politics and of war.

“There are times in our lives, Ibn Yakub, when we are unhappy in love or sad because a dear friend has been killed in a battle or we have lost our favourite steed. At times like this, when we feel we are on the edge of an abyss, harebrained advisers and sycophants can unwittingly push us over the edge. Men like Shadhi never permit that to happen. These are men of great integrity and our world, alas, has too few like them. Shadhi has saved me from myself on more than one occasion. That is why he has meant more to me than even my parents.

“You’re surprised to hear me speak like this, and you’re wondering why I do so, since Shadhi is still with us and recovering from the journey and might outlive us all. I used to think like you, but something very deep inside me is warning me that I will be far away when Shadhi dies. The thought upsets me greatly, Ibn Yakub. I know how much he respects and likes you and for that reason I am not taking you with me. It will make my decision not to take him much easier for him to bear if you are with him. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“I want him to rest. I have directed Amjad, the eunuch who earlier brought you my message, to make sure that Shadhi never wants for anything while I am away. Amjad answers to me and nobody else.

“Shadhi and Farrukh Shah are not close. Why? Because Shadhi’s tongue is no respecter of persons who, in his opinion, are not behaving as he thinks they ought to, and in the past he has subjected Farrukh Shah, who is not a bad person, to a very severe lashing with his tongue. It was in the presence of other emirs, and his pride suffered a blow. Farrukh complained bitterly to me, but what could I do? Can you imagine me reprimanding Shadhi? The problem is that Farrukh has still not forgotten the insult. I’m sure he will do nothing to hurt Shadhi, but that is besides the point. What the old man needs at this time is friends and a great deal of attention.

“I hope my fears are misplaced. I pray that when Allah brings me back to Damascus, Shadhi will still be here with detailed information on the mistakes I made during the campaign, which Imad al-Din will have reported to both him and you.

“Perhaps what is also worrying me is not just Shadhi’s death, but my own. Till now Allah has been kind to me. I have escaped death on several occasions, but if you lead an army into war as frequently as I do, and my person is the main target of the enemy, then it is only a matter of time before an arrow pierces my heart or a sword cracks my skull. I am feeling a little bit fragile, Ibn Yakub. I want you to know that your family is well looked after in Cairo, and I have left instructions for you to be paid regularly while you are here. After we achieve our objective, and Allah has spared me, I will present you with a tiny fief outside your beloved Jerusalem. If I fall, I have left instructions with al-Fadil and Imad al-Din that you are to be given a village wherever you desire.”

To my surprise I felt tears roll down my cheeks. The Sultan’s generosity was no secret, but I was simply a lowly scribe. I was overwhelmed by his giving thought to my future as well. When I rose to take my leave of him, he rose too and embraced me, whispering in my ear a last command.

“Keep the old man alive.”

T
HE SULTAN HAD BEEN
gone just over three weeks. It was the height of summer. Damascus had become unbearably hot. Every creature, human or animal, was constantly in search of shade and water. It was on one such day that Amjad the eunuch came rushing to my quarters in the early afternoon and disturbed my sleep. He was smiling as he woke me up to announce that the Sultana Jamila had summoned me. I had not seen either her or Halima since our arrival. I thought of them often, but felt that perhaps the reason for this was the stricter social rules that operated in Damascus, which was less open than Cairo.

Still feeling drowsy, I followed Amjad blindly to the harem. Halima had given birth to Salah al-Din’s son. Naturally I did not see her, but was led to an antechamber where Shadhi, watched by Jamila, was reciting the
qalima
in the ear of the newborn babe. The infant was carried by a wet-nurse, a slave girl of incredible beauty, who I had not seen before. The child was named Asad al-Din ibn Yusuf. This was the Sultan’s tenth son, and Shadhi’s instinctive ribaldry led him to offer a prayer to Allah to control the Sultan’s seed, lest the weeds outnumber the flowers. Jamila laughed loudly, and whispered her agreement to the old man.

Shadhi was still in excellent spirits three days later, after the circumcision ceremony. He appeared to have recovered completely from his recent fatigue. The local emirs and Farrukh Shah were the new targets of his lacerating wit. It was difficult not to laugh out loud and draw attention. Shadhi’s hatreds were always pure and usually justified, but there were times when I did worry that there were many tale-carriers in the citadel who would like nothing better than to please a master by informing on Shadhi. When I shared my apprehensions with him he chuckled, and refused to take me seriously.

One reason for his anger was the fact that, like me, he was excluded from the innermost councils of the court. This was hard for him to tolerate, given his closeness to his nephew. Both of us felt the absence of the Sultan. It was strange being without him. I was surprised at the intensity of my own feelings. I had been in his service for only five years. How much more aggrieved must Shadhi have felt at being deprived of his traditional place, close to the Sultan in war and in peace. Habits and routines are hard to dislodge from one’s system. Sometimes I found myself wandering thoughtlessly and in a semi-daze to the Sultan’s chamber and then making my way slowly back to my own, almost as if I were a loyal dog left behind by an uncaring master.

In recent years, in very different ways, our lives had revolved so completely around the person of Salah al-Din that it was difficult to accept that he was not present here in the citadel, and that we were not by his side wherever he happened to be.

“It is that peacock on heat, Imad al-Din, who must be writing all the Sultan’s dispatches,” Shadhi muttered one day. “Why don’t you ride out and join Salah al-Din? You can tell him I forced you to leave Damascus. You can also tell him that Allah has restored my health, and I don’t need you by my side waiting for death to strike.”