Tree of Pearls, Queen of Egypt Page 15

  speech reckless, insolent even. So be it. But I speak from my heart. We share common interests, you and I, and we hold the keys to victory. All we lack is resolve.

  You need only follow the example of the Abbasid Caliphs themselves.”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din looked about him nervously, then he turned once again to

  Sahban. “Your words please me not, nor do I understand their import.”

  “You only pretend not to understand out of excessive caution, my Lord. I

  refer to that which Al-Rashid did to Ja‘far. Did he not murder him along with all the rest of the Barakmids because they were Shi‘a, and because he feared their

  power? He disposed of them on the basis of a simple accusation, thereby dealing

  a terrible blow to his government and to himself. As for you, if you were to avenge the Shi‘a with the same determination, you would be saving these lands from

  certain ruin.”

  m u ’ay y i d a l-di n i bn a l-a l qa m i | 

  Mu’ayyid al-Din was appalled by the import of this declaration. “Enough

  of this pointless talk,” he frowned. “You are pained, it seems, by the misguided actions of the Prince of Believers and his family.”

  “I speak not in anger or rancor,” Sahban passionately declared. “I have no

  personal grudge against these men. I speak on behalf of those who are being per-

  secuted for no other reason than their love of the Imam Ali and the People of his House.” Anger made him choke back the remaining words that rose to his lips.

  Th

  ese same thoughts had oft en occurred to Mu’ayyid al-Din as well, but he

  was above all a cautious and prudent politician. “Calm yourself, Sahban, and let us put aside this matter for now. Th

  ere is a time and place for every action.”

  “Th

  e time is ripe now! Only ask me to explain myself and I shall readily

  comply.”

  “I am not ignorant of what passes through your mind, but I insist that the

  time for such talk is not yet upon us.”

  “You have not quite understood my purpose, my Lord,” Sahban insisted. “I

  have a project other than the one you imagine. I speak not of Hulagu!”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din shuddered when he heard this name spoken, for it had

  never once quit his thoughts for months past and had caused him much anxiety.

  “What is it then?” he demanded.

  “I thank you for agreeing to hear me out, my Lord. Th

  e project of which I

  speak will lead us directly to our dearest object. I propose to revive the great ‘Alawi Dynasty in the same country that once hosted it for over two hundred years!”

  “You mean Egypt?” he replied incredulously. “Upon my word Sahban! Th

  is is

  indeed a farfetched scheme. Th

  e Turks are masters in Egypt now.”

  “I know very well where matters stand in Egypt, having only just returned

  from there yesterday. Trade is not the real purpose of my travels, my Lord,” he

  offi

  ciously declared. “It is the wellbeing of my people and the victory of our per-

  secuted Imams that motivates my constant journeying. I have studied Egypt and

  her secrets for years. She is mine to do with as I please.”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din laughed out loud at this ridiculous boast. “How vast your

  dreams are, and how deep your illusions! From whence comes this arrogance

  that permits you to believe that mighty Egypt is your plaything? Egypt is a Sunni country, its leaders all Sunni Turks.”

  “I know this, my Lord. But they are divided and at odds. Th

  ere is a Prince

  amongst them who seeks the throne, a bold warrior with a personal grudge

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t against the present Sultan. He will exert his powers in our cause. He hates this Caliph of yours for stealing his betrothed away, and he shall surely be avenged.

  If we help him to kill your Master and raise him to the throne of Egypt, he will serve us by establishing a Fatimid Caliphate there. Only then shall we be rid of our cursed oppressors and return to the days of our old glory.” His eyes shone as he fi nished speaking, as though this fantasy had already come to pass.

  Th

  e Reader will no doubt already have noticed that Sahban was one of those

  people who possess a vastly colorful imagination and a great capacity for self-

  delusion. If a person of this sort sets his heart on some goal, the fl imsiest pretext will suffi

  ce to make him believe it possible. He will take not the slightest notice

  of obstacles, whether natural or man-made. Th

  ose with the character which I

  describe are plentiful, particularly in the countries of the East. To wit, the diff erence between a successful man and a failure depends on the degree to which he

  is able to evaluate the truth with a steady eye and prepare for events before they come to pass.

  Uproar

  mu’ayyid al-din, on the other hand, was a fastidious and farsighted man who

  carefully considered all obstacles and patiently set out to overcome them. If not for this, he would never have risen to the post of First Minister in a government whose religious doctrine was diff erent from his own, and especially amongst

  a clan that hated and persecuted the Shi‘a. He had nothing but bemused con-

  tempt for Sahban’s plans and projects regarding a Shi‘ite restoration in Egypt.

  He knew full well that the Shi‘a were too weak to win such a suit. He was favor-

  ably inclined, however, to the idea of replacing the present Caliph with another more competent one, but he did not wish to confess this to Sahban, and so he

  decided to put an end to the discussion. “We shall let this matter be for now,” he fi rmly declared.

  Sahban felt the edge of scorn in the Minister’s voice. “It seems that my proj-

  ect excites not your interest, my Lord. Perhaps you fi nd it improbable. If you

  knew my reasoning you would be more inclined to listen,” he sulkily added.

  Mu’ayyid al-Din sighed. “Indeed, my friend, your hopes strike me as being

  exceedingly diffi

  cult, if not impossible, to fulfi ll.”

  “If you fi nd my reasoning to be weak, then let us hear your own proposals.

  Or do you believe that we should quietly accept this humiliation for the rest of our lives?”

  “Certainly not. But we must deliberate carefully, and above all refrain from

  rambling on like this for any and all to hear.”

  “As you wish, my Lord. What, then, is our route to salvation?”

  “You have put me in a delicate position, Sahban, for I would not have dis-

  closed my mind to you just yet. We Shi‘a must not allow ourselves to indulge in

  dreams of a restoration, for present conditions will simply not allow it. Th

  ere will

  perhaps come a day when our sons will be in a position to realize this dream, but

  

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t for now, it will suffi

  ce to replace this feeble voluptuary with a wise and steadfast

  Caliph who will give us justice. Th

  is is the plan on which we must fi x our sights.”

  Sahban lowered his head in thought. He was suddenly ashamed of his own

  foolish schemes. In addition to being prey to all sorts of illusions, he was also very fi ckle and easily led. He now agreed wholeheartedly with Mu’ayyid al-Din. “True, my Lord. Upon my word, but you are a sensible and prudent minister! Tell me,

  what provisions have you laid for the execution of this plan?”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din suddenly grew tired of t
he conversation, for he had no real

  intention of discussing his plans with Sahban. He rose pensively and his eyes were drawn to the fl oating bridge that crossed the Tigris. He suddenly noticed that it was unusually crowded with folk on foot, many running in panic as though fl eeing a battle. He was unable to make out any of the faces in the crowd, but he

  immediately assumed that an event of great import had taken place. He turned

  to Sahban, who had come to stand by him, and saw that the look of astonishment

  on his face was even greater than on his own. Sahban’s eyes were sharper, as well.

  “Do you see, my Lord?” he cried. “Do you not see? Th

  ese are the Caliph’s soldiers

  returned from an expedition of plunder with their prisoners in tow.”

  “But from where do they come?” Mu’ayyid al-Din exclaimed.

  “I know not, but I see imperial soldiers and those are their banners before

  them. If my vision fails me not, then that is the insignia of the Dawadar himself that precedes them. Th

  e scene puts me in mind of the recent military raids that

  were directed against our people in Karkh and Qadhimiyya.”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din stared at the crowds on the bridge but was unable to see

  clearly. Suddenly he heard a great tumult in the precincts of his own house. He

  put his head out of a window that opened onto the inner courtyard of the palace

  and saw a group of women weeping and wailing, their torn clothes covered in

  blood and dust. In their midst was an old man with bent back, leaning for sup-

  port on a cane. Like the women, he too wept and groaned. Mu’ayyid al-Din’s

  heart went out to these wretched strangers. Sahban stood by his side and gazed

  down at the yard. Aft er a few seconds of keen inspection, he let out a sharp cry.

  “Father!”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din started. “Who is this? Can it be your father?”

  “Yes! It is my father! I last saw him living peacefully in our house in Karkh.

  What has happened to him?” He excused himself and rushed downstairs, and

  Mu’ayyid al-Din followed.

  u proa r | 

  As soon as Sahban set foot in the courtyard he heard his father cry, “Where

  is our Minister? Where is Mu’ayyid al-Din?” His eyes now fell on the person he

  sought. “How dare they act thus against us while you are First Minister in these lands?” he cried. “If our only sin is that we honor the noble House of ‘Ali, then we gladly accept the punishment, and may God reward each soul for its actions

  in this world!”

  Sahban rushed over to the old man. “Father—what has happened to you?

  What has induced you to leave home in this state?”

  Th

  e old man turned to the younger, and when he saw that it was his son, he

  dropped his cane and threw himself into his arms, kissing him and sobbing. “My

  son, Sahban, is it you? Are you here? When did you come? Would you had come to

  us fi rst! Or perhaps you did well in staying away and escaping your brothers’ fate.”

  Sahban shuddered at these words. “My brothers? What has befallen them?

  Who has done this to you? Why? Tell me, father! Tell me everything!”

  Th

  e old man struggled to catch his breath and regain his strength to speak.

  “You ask me who did this to us. Do you not know those who are responsible for

  our calamities?” He cast his tear-stained eyes about him fearfully. “You know

  who is responsible!”

  “Did those soldiers we saw crossing the bridge come from Karkh?”

  “We fl ed before them and came here to take refuge with his Excellency

  Mu’ayyid al-Din! My Lord,” he cried, turning to the Minister, “deliver us from

  this torment! Lead us out of this country!” And turning once again to Sahban, he continued bitterly, “You! You escape these yearly raids. You save yourself while your brothers and sisters and I remain here to face this horror. Good God! When

  shall we be free of this affl

  iction?”

  Shaking with fury, Sahban replied, “Soon enough, God willing!”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din had ordered the womenfolk to be taken to the women’s

  quarters of the palace. He now listened to Sahban’s father with grim composure.

  “Take a seat here, I beg you, uncle. Calm yourself and tell me exactly what hap-

  pened,” he gently prompted.

  “You know our story well, your Excellency, how we labor in constant fear, how

  we are continuously persecuted and how we patiently wait for the day of deliver-

  ance. Th

  is time it is diff erent, for the number of arrests and deaths have exceeded

  all earlier counts and have spared neither property nor honor!” He repeated this last word in a trembling voice, and confusedly cast about for his cane.

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t Mu’ayyid al-Din was greatly aff ected. He glanced at Sahban and saw that

  he struggled to hide the bitter tears that threatened to spill over. Th

  e Minister

  clung to his composure and set about comforting Sahban’s father. “Everything

  comes to an end one day, uncle. Patience, for God is with the patient. Tell me

  what happened.”

  “Do not ask me what happened, my son, for it would break your heart. What

  you see around you is enough,” he sobbed as he wiped his eyes with trembling

  fi ngers.

  “We have grown used to their atrocities,” Sahban muttered darkly.

  “Never! I have grown old in this country, amongst these people, and I have

  seen many misfortunes unfold, none of which are comparable to this! Th

  ey used

  to attack passers-by or accuse some men with false crimes in order to insult them and confi scate their property. Th

  is time they forced their way into people’s homes

  without cause or reason. Th

  ey violated the sanctity of the women’s quarters and

  trampled upon their honor, and they murdered innocent children—enough! I

  can no longer speak, and I would be glad to die here and now. I only beg God to

  keep me alive in order to witness the annihilation of this dynasty.” His breath

  came faster as he said this, and for a moment it seemed as though he would faint away. Th

  ey sprinkled water upon his face and Sahban helped him to hobble inside

  to take some rest in the quiet of the palace. He then went immediately to the

  women’s quarters and charged a eunuch with a message to his sister. She emerged

  in tears, sobbing aloud, her wild hair uncovered and torn. “What happened to

  you, Safi yya? Speak! Has harm befallen any of you? Where are your sisters?” he

  demanded.

  She slapped her hands against her cheeks in despair and replied, “I know not

  where they are, or whether they be dead or alive! Good God! You were not there

  to see the slaughter, brother. Th

  ey entered my chamber and were on the point of

  assaulting me. I take refuge in the Almighty!”

  He shuddered deeply at these words, but forced himself to remain calm in

  front of her. “God is gracious, sister,” he murmured. “He will surely wreak His

  revenge on the tyrants.” He turned back towards the Palace and went in search

  of Mu’ayyid al-Din but did not fi nd him there. Th

  e servants informed him that

  the Minister was dressing in his private chambers, and from this Sahban under-

  stood that he intended to go to the Imperial Palace and to speak to the Caliph on
this momentous matter. Th

  e thought of the Minister’s great anger fi lled Sahban

  u proa r | 

  with grim satisfaction and he hoped that his impending audience with the Caliph

  would lead to no good, so that Mu’ayyid al-Din might be persuaded to take his

  counsel and work towards the overthrow of the Abbasid State.

  Sahban returned to his father’s side and was relieved to see that he had recov-

  ered a portion of his strength. He sat by him to comfort him and to press him

  further on the day’s events, growing more astonished by the moment as his father spoke. He promised the old man that revenge would be theirs, multiplied four-fold, that God was surely the scourge of tyrants, and other like expressions of

  condolence to which the Shi‘a of Baghdad had become accustomed due to the

  many tribulations that never ceased to befall them.

  Al-Musta‘sim

  mu’ayyid al-din donned his cap and black cape and mounted his mule. Just

  as Sahban had guessed, he meant to see the Caliph to protest the unacceptable

  behavior of the imperial troops. He passed fi rst the Mustansiriyya School, then the Husayni Palace before fi nally arriving at the Palace of the Crown. Th

  e servants

  respectfully made way for him as he rode grimly through the gardens. When he

  arrived at the main doors, he dismounted and hurried inside, anger writ large on his face. He did not return the greetings of the courtiers who crossed his path.

  Th

  e palace guards accompanied him to the public gate, and there he inquired

  aft er the Caliph’s whereabouts from the gatekeeper. “He is in the Grand Terrace overlooking the pier at present. Shall I request an audience for his Excellency the Minister?”

  “Is he alone?” Mu’ayyid al-Din demanded.

  “He is attended by the singers and a number of his courtiers.”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din was cast into yet deeper gloom by this all too habitual

  answer. “Pray seek permission for me to wait upon the Commander of the Faith-

  ful at his convenience.”

  Th

  e gatekeeper returned shortly. “Th

  e Commander of the Faithful requests

  that his Excellency the Minister proceed to the terrace.” Mu’ayyid al-Din was

  again disappointed by this invitation, for he would have much preferred to see the Caliph alone. He saw no alternative but to obey, however, and he strode from hall to hall, the eunuchs making way for him, until he arrived at the terrace.