Tree of Pearls, Queen of Egypt Read online

  his fancies, for some good might come of it. Th

  ere is no harm in it for the present,

  at least.”

  Th

  e thought of the Sultanate made the blood run quick in Rukn al-Din’s

  veins and enfl amed his burgeoning ambitions. He jumped up from the bed and

  paced restlessly about the room. “Egypt’s throne!” he whispered to himself. “It is better by far than the Baghdad Caliphate. Do I then aspire to it? Yes! I desire it.

  But were I to speak openly of such a loft y hope I would be taken for a fool. Perhaps I am a fool aft er all. So be it then! From today on, I shall keep my own counsel and watch and wait.”

  Th

  e passing sound of a horse’s hoofs below his window interrupted his rev-

  erie, and he now recalled Shwaykar’s plight. “And what of Shwaykar,” he asked

  himself. “Can I simply leave her to her fate? I love her! Even though this love was fi rst born at the command of another, it has taken possession of my heart. In any

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t

  case, it is quite enough that she loves me and expects me to come to her aid—if

  she remains true to this love once ensconced in the Caliph’s palace!”

  Th

  e sun had just set, and Rukn al-Din resolved to rest for the remainder of

  the evening and to rise early for his meeting with ‘Izz al-Din. His duty also bound him to wait upon the new Sultan and to congratulate him on his ascension to the

  throne. He settled down to his dinner and then stretched out upon his bed once

  more, but the turbulence of his thoughts drove all sleep from his eyes.

  When night had lowered its inky veil, Rukn al-Din rose and, putting on a

  fl owing black cloak, walked out of the precincts of the Citadel towards the vast solitude of the Muqattam Plateau. Th

  e sky was cloudless, the moon had risen to its

  zenith, and nature revealed itself in all her awesome splendor. On such a perfect night as this, the wanderer, perched atop some summit or lingering in a verdant

  garden, takes keen pleasure in quiet contemplation, as though he would confi de his deepest secrets to the moon or hold nature herself in tranquil converse.

  Rukn al-Din’s thoughts were full of his plans and ambitions. He walked on,

  unmolested by the guards, and climbed the plateau in the moonlight until he had

  reached its summit. He turned his thoughtful gaze upon the great city spread

  out before him. His eyes wandered over its lush gardens and graceful minarets,

  and behind them all, the Nile rippling silver in the moonlight. Further on in the distance stood the mighty pyramids, their sharp points piercing the sky, and all around, the palm and sycamore orchards veiled in the purple dark. He sat down

  on a rock behind a pile of stones that had once been a mosque or a small fortress of some kind, and silently contemplated the view before him. His thoughts wandered aimlessly from one thing to another. Shwaykar’s face appeared before him

  and he wondered where she might be at this very moment. Th

  en the thought of

  the throne and whether it would one day be his stole upon him. By the light of

  the moon, the shadows of his fancies grew and grew until they took on the shape

  of reality.

  Suddenly he heard a light rustle, like the sound a snake makes as it slith-

  ers through the dust. Th

  ough he was not in the least afraid, the solitude of the

  place and his own fretful distraction reminded him of the comforts of his wait-

  ing bed. As he rose to go, the nearby sound of a man’s throaty chuckle met his

  ears. He looked about in an attempt to locate its source but could see nothing. He was almost inclined to believe that the laughter had issued from the mouth of a

  mischievous jinni—such superstitions being quite common in those days—but

  a se cr et c on v e r sat ion | 

  he now distinctly heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the ruined

  structure by which he stood. He held his breath and waited.

  Now he began to make out the sound of a group of people talking. His curi-

  osity caused him to draw closer, and to his great surprise he distinctly heard the voice of him who had been so much in his thoughts all this evening. It was Sahban. “Th

  at Sallafa is a real sorceress—more cunning than a pack of ministers,”

  he said.

  Another voice replied, “You mean the Custodian of the Righteous King’s

  Harem? It’s true what they say about her, then?”

  Sahban gave a short, hard laugh. “Try as hard as you may, you’ll never be

  able to do justice to her wiliness. I have experienced it fi rst-hand. You have surely heard of the tumult that befell the government yesterday? She is the sole cause of it all.”

  “You exaggerate, Sahban! How could she have possibly managed all this from

  Cairo? She may well have come between Tree of Pearls and ‘Izz al-Din Aybak, but

  . . . this?” a third voice demanded.

  “I am sure of what I say. Sallafa engineered a coup and a transfer of the

  throne from her own palace here in Cairo.”

  “And how did she accomplish such a feat?”

  “It seems that her infl uence in Baghdad is great, and that her opinion is

  highly regarded in the Caliph’s palaces.”

  Th

  e second voice now spoke up. “Perhaps you’re right. She used to belong to

  the Caliph before he presented her to Al-Salih as a gift . But still, you surely infl ate her power.”

  “I know of what I speak,” Sahban insisted. He lowered his voice. “I myself

  took a letter from her to Baghdad. Th

  e offi

  cial decree deposing Tree of Pearls

  came immediately on its heels.”

  Th

  e third man laughed heartily at this. “And what compelled you to stick

  your nose into such goings-on in the fi rst place, my friend? What business do you have to undertake such errands for these Turks?”

  “My personal reasons are unimportant,” Sahban sniff ed. “Nevertheless, I did

  hope that Sallafa’s plot might aid us in our enterprise. Th

  e forced abdication of

  Tree of Pearls may eventually lead to an uprising that would serve our ends.”

  Rukn al-Din’s interest was powerfully aroused by this last statement, and so

  he put aside his misgivings and continued to eavesdrop on the conversation. A

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t

  fourth man now broke in. “You made a mistake, sir, in agreeing to this mission,

  for you thereby caused the throne to pass from the hands of a chit of a woman to those of a powerful man—I mean ‘Izz al-Din Aybak. He will certainly contrive

  to depose the child-Sultan and to rule with an iron fi st in his stead. I suppose you undertook this service for no other reason than to please Sallafa—in truth, she is a heavenly creature.”

  “It is true that she is beautiful,” Sahban mumbled, “and the thought of seek-

  ing to please her may have crossed my mind. But I undertook the mission only to

  serve our declared ends.”

  “Did she reward your eff orts, then?” the voice archly inquired.

  Sahban ignored the raillery in this question. “Th

  e woman is surely one of

  the Caliph’s spies,” he muttered. “At the very least, she is an impenetrable riddle. It would seem she has no heart, or at least that she belongs to a diff erent order of beings. I admit that I almost won her favor and that she gave me many

  indications of her confi dence and her partiality to my person. Th

  en she changed


  towards me quite suddenly. When I returned from Baghdad yesterday, I found

  that she had passed into the house of the Regent ‘Izz al-Din and that she seemed to have conquered him completely. Tree of Pearls herself is bitterly aware of this coup but is powerless to challenge it.”

  “Sallafa has always been jealous of Tree of Pearls,” the third speaker broke in,

  “and especially aft er she was crowned Queen, for she no doubt felt that as a Kurd and distant relative of Al-Salih she herself would have been more deserving of

  the throne. Revenge, rather than political intrigue, must be her only motive, for she has merely caused the Sultanate to change hands with no perceivable benefi t to herself. Th

  ere is one thing that puzzles me though. I don’t see how the Caliph

  came to hear of Shwaykar, the singing-girl, so as to request her by name in the

  fi rst place.”

  “It was no doubt Sallafa who caused news of her to reach the Caliph’s ears,”

  Sahban replied. “She meant to spite Tree of Pearls a second time. Th

  e girl is her

  slave and handmaiden.”

  Rukn al-Din’s heart beat faster at this reference to Shwaykar. He listened

  closely as the fourth man now spoke up. “I see no great cunning in this little

  maneuver,” he said lightly. “Tree of Pearls can easily do without Shwaykar—there are scores like her in the Palace. Th

  e real secret of Sallafa’s success is her friend-

  ship with the Custodian of Al-Musta‘sim’s Harem. Th

  e woman owes her many

  a se cr et c on v e r sat ion | 

  favors. But let us speak no more of Sallafa, for she’s nothing but a deceitful and jealous slave.”

  Sahban laughed and said, “Too true, my friend. She deceived me and I see

  no reason why she would not serve another from the same dish. Th

  e moon has

  begun to set,” he added as he glanced up at the sky. “It’s high time we each went our way before the sentries chance upon us in this place.”

  Rukn al-Din crouched back in the dark as he waited for the sound of their

  receding steps to fade away. His thoughts were full of Sallafa and ‘Izz al-Din, and of the coup that had taken place at court. Th

  e conversation he had just overheard

  had shed light on much that had been obscure to him. He returned by and by to

  his rooms, terribly fatigued by his long journey from Damietta and by his lack

  of sleep in the past two days. Th

  e next morning, he dressed and went directly to

  the Great Hall to meet with ‘Izz al-Din. He tendered his excuses to the Regent,

  informing him that he had only arrived in Cairo the previous day and had been

  too tired to present himself at court. ‘Izz al-Din in turn presented him to Al-

  Ashraf, and Rukn al-Din submitted to them a report of his mission in Damietta,

  the result of which had been the withdrawal of the Franks from that city under

  favorable terms.

  ‘Izz al-Din lengthily praised his offi

  cer’s zeal and courage, and promised

  to reward him well for his eff orts on behalf of the Egyptian state. Rukn al-Din thanked him gracefully for his generous solicitude, but he felt that something

  imperceptible had changed in ‘Izz al-Din’s manner. He refl ected on this subtle

  shift as he left the Great Hall and wondered whether, aft er all, it was his own perception of the Regent that had changed. Perhaps his mounting ambitions or

  perhaps all the rumors that he had recently heard had altered his relation to ‘Izz al-Din. Th

  is thought stayed with him in the days that followed, but he kept his

  own council and waited patiently for the opportunity to put it to the test.

  Shwaykar

  the days and weeks passed and Rukn al-Din was greatly occupied by the

  duties of his offi

  ce, for ‘Izz al-Din had kept him in the post of Dawadar to the new

  King. He was haunted by thoughts of Shwaykar, however, and he pined for news

  of her in Baghdad. He could not make up his mind whether to follow her there

  or to wait until he had received some proof of her continued devotion to him, for he was apprehensive, knowing the honors that would be heaped upon her and

  the particular admiration that she was sure to inspire at the Caliph’s Palace. His nature was not of the impetuous, passionate kind that hastens to sacrifi ce its own interests in the name of love. He was steady and rational in his actions, and was guided in all he thought and did by utility and, above all, ambition. In his heart, he did not believe that Shwaykar would remain true to his love, once installed at Baghdad. His love for her was strong and he suff ered at her absence, but he was partly consoled in the knowledge that she was surely now living in great comfort and luxury. Was this not the greatest aspiration of such as her?

  One morning, however, he woke from a dream in which she had appeared to

  him in a state of wild terror. His heart grew anxious in the wake of this troubling vision, and he immediately resolved to act. His heavy duties still obliged him to remain at court for the time being, but it occurred to him that he might send Sahban in his place. Such a mission, he reasoned, would also be a means of further

  drawing the man into his confi dence.

  Sahban eagerly responded to the Prince’s summons, and Rukn al-Din imme-

  diately broached the subject that troubled his mind. “God’s peace, Sahban. You

  spoke truly of the state of the Empire when we last met. I have since thought

  long upon it. Th

  e Abbasids are unfi t for the Caliphate so long as they wallow in

  corruption.”

  “Did I not say so, my Lord?” the merchant fervently replied.

  

  sh way k a r | 

  “You did. I myself have felt the yoke of their oppression. Perhaps you have

  heard that they have taken Shwaykar, Tree of Pearls’s handmaiden?”

  “Indeed my Lord, I have heard.”

  “She is my betrothed.”

  “Your betrothed?” Sahban exclaimed in astonishment. “And Al-Musta‘sim

  dared to take her from you? Th

  e tyrant! Th

  e ‘Alawi Caliphs would never have

  been guilty of such a deed,” he added slyly.

  “He did not knowingly do so. But that is not my point—what I wish now is to

  know how Shwaykar fares there. I cannot travel to Baghdad myself for the pres-

  ent. You, however, go there oft en in the course of your business. Would you then undertake this service for your friend Rukn al-Din?”

  Sahban was fl attered by this noble recognition. “I am at your service, my

  Lord. I shall depart as soon as possible—tomorrow. May God blight them! Th

  ey

  shall soon be the ruin of this Empire,” and he shook his head in bitter wonder.

  “I thank you for your devotion, Sahban. Th

  e days to come shall show you my

  gratitude.”

  “It is my duty to serve you, my Lord. I shall depart tomorrow.” He rose to

  take his leave. “Say no more, and rest assured. I know perfectly well what you

  require.” He bowed deeply and withdrew.

  Rukn al-Din took up his aff airs once more with a heart less troubled than

  before, and he did his best to patiently wait out the month or so that it would take for Sahban to make the journey to Baghdad and back.

  But one night, before two weeks had passed, an unexpected messenger

  arrived from Baghdad and would not wait till the following morning to deliver

  his urgent letter to the Prince. On the evening in question, Rukn al-Din was visit-ing privately with Tree of Pear
ls. He oft en went to see her now in order to while away her solitude and to cheer her spirits as best as he could. Th

  e Usher entered

  and solemnly made his announcement. “A messenger waits at the gate with a let-

  ter for Prince Rukn al-Din. He says that he will deliver it into none but his own hand.”

  “Let him enter,” replied the Prince calmly, but his heart jumped in his breast,

  and aft er a moment’s refl ection he hastened to meet the messenger at the door.

  “What news?” he cried.

  “Do I speak to Prince Rukn al-Din Baybars?”

  “I am he.”

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t

  “I bring a letter to the Prince from a lady who wishes her communication to

  him to remain secret.”

  “Give it to me,” he brusquely replied.

  Th

  e man withdrew a scroll from his pocket and handed it to Rukn al-Din,

  who took it and read it eagerly as he walked back into the hall where he had been sitting with Tree of Pearls. She meanwhile studied his face closely as he read, and she shivered slightly at the mounting disquiet she saw there. “What news, Prince?

  What has happened?” she cried as soon as he had fi nished.

  He handed the letter to her. She took it and read the following:

  From the wretched Shwaykar to her Lord and love, Prince Rukn al-Din. I have

  been snatched from the arms of Tree of Pearls in your absence. My Lady was

  unable to discover the means of detaining me until your return, and so I was forced to quit Cairo with a heavy heart. I have done nothing but grieve since leaving it, and I take solace in nothing, in spite of the comfort and respect showered upon me by the master of that caravan. My companions marveled at the copious tears of a slave whom the Commander of the Faithful has seen fi t to honor. It seems my tears were but an evil portent of things to come, however, for no sooner had we arrived at the outskirts of Baghdad than my situation changed for the worse. I was transferred to a company come from the Caliph’s palace to receive me, as I then supposed, and I resolved to beg them to return me immediately to Egypt or at least to send a representative to the Caliph who would tell him my story and seek his grace. But from the moment they laid hands on me they commenced to treat me as a prisoner, and even as I write these lines they prepare to take me away, I know not where.

  Th