Tree of Pearls, Queen of Egypt Read online

  “How did you accomplish this?” Mu’ayyid al-Din demanded. “How did you

  dare?”

  “I managed it with God’s help, and I must confess that I yet hope to succeed

  in an undertaking that is infi nitely more diffi

  cult. It is my opinion that this wise

  and righteous Imam must become Caliph instead of that—”

  Th

  e Imam quickly but fi rmly interrupted Sahban’s speech. “Say no more, my

  son. Our Caliph Al-Musta‘sim Billah would be inoff ensive were it not for his dis-sipation and his son’s outrageous domination over him. It is possible to correct these faults. Do not close your hearts to him.”

  “You are indeed the best of men, my Lord,” Sahban replied. “As for our

  Caliph, I am convinced that his case is hopeless and he must be removed. You

  are more deserving of the Caliphate than he, for you are the brother of Al-Mus-

  tansir—may God have mercy on his soul—, an upright, pious, and assiduous

  man, as his acts did attest, quite unlike that—”

  Once again Imam Ahmad interrupted, this time with a gentle rebuke. “If

  I had known that you brought me here only to hear you speak thus, Sahban, I

  would have preferred to remain in my prison. We are all my nephew’s loyal sub-

  jects, and if he has erred, it is our duty to counsel him. I have spoken my mind.”

  a n ew gu e st | 

  Th

  e Imam’s careful rejection of Sahban’s impetuous proposal did not in the

  least surprise Mu’ayyid al-Din, though he guessed him to be even more desir-

  ous of the Caliphate than Sahban was of transferring it to him. His rebuke was

  merely the habitual practice of astute politics on his part; a mixture of caution, cunning, and foresight—all qualities of the utmost importance in the present

  circumstances. “My friend Sahban is merely expressing the feeling of all Mus-

  lims, your Excellency,” Mu’ayyid al-Din politely explained, “especially those of our Shi‘a brothers, for they have suff ered bitterly under your nephew, as everyone knows. I do not, however, see the wisdom in rushing so precipitously down the

  path our friend proposes. We have yet to take a single step in the direction of

  our hopes.” He then turned to Sahban and continued. “You have escorted his

  Excellency here from his palace, but where shall he now be lodged? If his absence from the Firdaws Palace is discovered tomorrow, we shall be the fi rst to fall under suspicion, and you well know that the Caliph’s men wreak havoc as they please.”

  “Fear not,” Sahban quickly replied. “I shall return him to his palace tonight. I have arranged it so that no one will even notice his absence. I brought him to you so that you might personally inform him of our design to remove the Caliph. Did

  we not agree that his Excellency Imam Ahmad would be the most worthy Abba-

  sid to replace Al-Musta‘sim? Well, here he is, and there you are.” And he turned once again to the Imam. “Your Excellency, I beg you to lift the veil between us.

  Pray spare us the encumbrance of guarded pleasantries and speak clearly. If

  we succeed in toppling the government and installing a new Caliph—his son,

  of course, being out of the question—would Imam Ahmad deign to accept the

  Caliphate? And would he swear to uphold justice for the persecuted Shi‘a?”

  In spite of the abruptness of this bold question, Mu’ayyid al-Din was begin-

  ning to see the wisdom in openly sounding out the Imam. He was now inclined

  to accept the fact that great projects require audacity and resolve as much as

  forethought and deliberation. He bowed his head and waited for the Imam’s

  response. It was not long in coming. “My sons, if the Caliphate is off ered to me, it is in the interests of all Muslims that I not refuse it. Such a refusal would be sinful and would moreover result in sedition and great turmoil at the very heart of the Empire.” He stopped and carefully considered his words. “Know that if I were to

  become Caliph, my fi rst duty would be to dispense justice and to serve all those of the Prophet’s House, peace and blessings upon him, who have been oppressed

  by the present government.”

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

  “May God bless his Excellency,” Mu’ayyid al-Din replied. “If God favors our

  aspirations, the entire Muslim community shall profi t. We thank his Excellency

  for speaking his mind, and let me add that I sorely regret his having been bur-

  dened with the dangers of coming to us this night.”

  “Th

  ere is no danger,” Sahban rejoined. “Th

  e Imam may stay away from his

  palace for days if he so chooses. No one shall notice his absence, for I have left in his place a man who resembles him greatly. None but his closest attendants

  shall know the diff erence, they are so like. I was able to accomplish this thanks to my friendship with the Palace Steward, a man who desires to be rid of this

  Caliph even more than we do. No one has been left untouched by the crimes of

  Al-Musta‘sim and his son. Rest assured, my Lord. And if you fear spies, we shall leave you this very minute.” Sahban rose and invited the Imam to do the same.

  Mu’ayyid al-Din saluted them with words of deepest respect. “His Excel-

  lency the Imam has honored the house of his servant. I beg him to act as he sees fi t, and to aid us in the endeavor of serving him faithfully.”

  The Message

  mu’ayyid al-din accompanied his guests to the outer door. Upon returning

  to his rooms he immediately resumed the search for Hulagu’s missing letter. He

  fi nally gave up, exhausted, and cold dread crept through his veins, for he knew full well that he was surrounded by enemies who awaited the slightest excuse to

  denounce him. He retired for the night but was unable to sleep a wink, for dark-

  ness magnifi es fancy and infl ates the specters of anxiety. He rose the next morning, greatly fatigued.

  Nothing is so oppressive to a man as the indecision caused by a confl ict

  between feeling and reason. One of these must triumph for the crisis to pass and the mind to be set at rest. So it was with Mu’ayyid al-Din, who was torn between two perspectives. His reason warned him that the corruption of the government

  would lead the Empire to ruin. Only the overthrow of the Caliph could prevent

  this fate, and only a mighty and conquering hand like that of Hulagu could in

  turn achieve this goal. Th

  is rational judgment was not unmixed with a stifl ed

  desire for revenge against the Caliph’s son and the Sunni faction he represented.

  On the other hand, his heart and his conscience reproved him for contemplating

  treachery against the master to whom he had sworn an oath of fealty.

  Hulagu’s missing letter added yet another consideration to Mu’ayyid al-

  Din’s uneasy refl ections. If it had been deliberately stolen, as he suspected, then it would not be long before it fell into the hands of his enemies and he would

  almost certainly be accused of conspiracy. While the actual contents of the letter were perhaps not enough to sustain such a grave charge, they at least proved the existence of an ongoing correspondence between the Empire’s deadliest foe and

  its First Minister.

  Th

  e Caliph may well decree his imprisonment or execution—especially

  if Abu Bakr had his way—and it would then be impossible to save himself. In

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   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t circumstances such as these, Mu’ayyid al-Din refl ected, it would be wise to prepare for the evil before it came
to pass. He considered writing to Hulagu at once, but his whole being rebelled at the thought. Th

  e great danger that awaited him

  should he do nothing was ever-present in his mind, however, and his torment

  threatened to overwhelm him. Th

  e instinct of self-preservation fi nally won the

  day, and he resolved to at least prepare the messenger that would take word of his capitulation to Hulagu, should the need for this arise. He summoned his Steward

  and a certain one of the slave-boys that lived in the palace. Th

  e Steward pres-

  ently arrived, accompanied by the slave in question, a dim-witted mute who had

  recently been bought from Turcoman traders.

  Mu’ayyid al-Din examined the boy from head to toe, then instructed the

  Steward to shave his head. Th

  is Steward had long been attached to Mu’ayyid al-

  Din’s household and he was privy to his master’s secrets, great and small. More-

  over, he was genuinely fond of the Minister and exceedingly protective of his

  interests. He immediately understood the purpose of his master’s command.

  Once the task of shaving the boy’s head had been completed, Mu’ayyid al-

  Din turned his attention to his faithful servant. “You have understood my pur-

  pose?” he demanded.

  “I have, my Lord, and I am ever at your service.”

  “Th

  en bring the needles and the kohl and shut the door securely.”

  Th

  e Steward did as he was ordered, and returning, seated himself on a chair

  and instructed the boy to kneel before him. Mu’ayyid al-Din now came forward

  with a bit of paper in his outstretched hand. He nodded to the Steward, who took it and silently read the brief sentence that it contained: Advance with your armies and your stores. Th

  e Steward understood that this was a message to Hulagu, and

  he was secretly glad of it, for he hated the Caliph and his court with the passion of a true Shi‘a. He bent over the boy and began the operation of tattooing the words onto the smooth scalp with the needles and the kohl. When he had fi nished, he

  raised his expressionless eyes to Mu’ayyid al-Din and smiled.

  Th

  e Minister now instructed his Steward to keep the boy in a safe place until

  the hair should have grown back to cover the tattooed message. If and when he

  should fi nally decide to send for Hulagu, he had only to dispatch the boy on his deadly journey. Th

  e Khan, knowing that the messenger had been sent by Mu’ayyid

  al-Din, would duly shave his head and read the words thereon inscribed, aft er

  which the boy would be put to the sword. In those days, this was the safest way

  t h e m e s sage | 

  for politicians to correspond in secret. Mu’ayyid al-Din had prepared his letter.

  If he should decide not to send it, he would simply keep the boy in his household with his hair fully grown. He hesitated still, and his conscience held sway over his will, for he yet dared to hope that the present state of aff airs might be peacefully resolved.

  A measure of tranquility descended upon Mu’ayyid al-Din once he had taken

  this precaution, and he returned to his duties and to the daily business of the

  Empire with a lighter heart. He mounted his mule and rode to the Palace of the

  Crown to examine his correspondence and to sit in council, but the missing let-

  ter continued to haunt him throughout the day. He closely watched the faces that surrounded him at court, but saw nothing there to excite his alarm. He returned

  home at the end of that very long day encouraged and in fairly good cheer.

  Arrogance

  days went by and Mu’ayyid al-Din almost forgot Hulagu and the missing

  letter; nor did any inauspicious news of Abu Bakr reach his ears. From this he

  inferred that all was well. He hoped that the young Prince had repented of his

  ways, having fi nally understood the fratricidal dangers that beset the Empire.

  One morning, however, well before the call to prayers, Al-Musta‘sim’s messen-

  ger came to summon the minister to the imperial palace. He dressed in haste

  and mounted his mule, all the while wondering what could be the reason for a

  summons so early in the day. Recalling Hulagu’s letter, his fears returned and

  he struggled to preserve his composure until he should reach the Palace of the

  Crown and discover what lay in store for him. When he arrived, he was directed

  to meet with the Caliph in the Special Assembly Chamber. Seeing that Abu Bakr

  and the Dawadar were also present, his heart trembled, but he took refuge in God and resolutely greeted the company.

  Al-Musta‘sim returned his greeting and bade him be seated. Th

  en he abruptly

  handed him a letter that had been lying beside him on the royal couch. Mu’ayyid

  al-Din took it. As he read its contents, he quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

  From the Great Khakan Hulagu, Sultan of sultans, to Al-Musta‘sim Billah the

  Abbasid. We grow weary of your procrastination, though verily we have been

  patient. Is it not time for you to see the light and to acknowledge our worth?

  We sent you emissaries to request aid against the Isma‘ili murderers. Th

  ough we

  fought them in your name, you declined our alliance. Your refusal has proven the weakness of your judgment. We then wrote to reproach you for this failure and you sent an indiff erent reply that did nothing to assuage our wrath; and you attached to this miserable reply an even more miserable gift that is only fi tting for one such as yourself. Do you suppose, then, that we are in need of money? You would have been well advised to send us an Imperial envoy, to whom we would

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  a r ro ga nce | 

  have graciously listened. And now, nothing will satisfy us but an offi

  cial apology

  delivered in person by yourself, your Minister, or your Dawadar. Woe unto you if you fail to submit.

  Now that his personal safety was assured for the time being, relief was

  quickly followed by dismay. Mu’ayyid al-Din glanced at the Caliph and saw that

  he was lost in thought. He wondered whether his master would now fi nally be

  guided by him and agree to conciliate the Tatar invader. Th

  e Caliph emerged

  from his reverie. “What is your opinion, Minister?” he demanded.

  “It is for my Lord, Commander of the Faithful, to judge these matters,”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din deferentially replied.

  “Does the insolence of this Tatar please you? What shall be his punishment?”

  Th

  ese unexpected words threw Mu’ayyid al-Din into great confusion. Th

  e

  Caliph was even now miscalculating his true position. “I beg my Lord’s permis-

  sion to speak frankly,” he began. “Th

  is man now wields great power. We know

  from our spies that he has crushed the Persians and many other peoples in fi erce warfare. His armies are vast and his arms and stores, abundant. If we do not reply favorably to his letter, he will most certainly attack Baghdad.”

  Abu Bakr now spoke up. “Attack Baghdad?” he scornfully demanded. “And

  what if he does? Can his recompense be anything but failure and disgrace?”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din fl exed his jaw and ignored this silly retort. “My Lord, I am

  of the opinion that we must conciliate Hulagu until we can adequately prepare

  for war.”

  “How can we conciliate him?” the Caliph asked. “Th

  e scoundrel demands

  that I myse
lf appear before him, or my Minister or Dawadar in my stead. Would

  it not have been better to engage with him before matters came to such a pass?”

  Th

  e Minister was pleased by this tacit admission on the Caliph’s part. “It

  would indeed have been wise, my Lord,” he replied. “And may I remind you that

  the humble servant who stands before you suggested that very course of action

  when last we received a letter from the Tatar. I expressed my fears to the Com-

  mander of the Faithful and I begged him to send rich gift s of slaves and jewels—

  such baubles are enough to satisfy these barbarians. But the Dawadar protested

  and accused me of faintheartedness and cowardice. He accused me of stooping

  to appease the enemy. His Highness chose to ignore my counsel, and sent a trivial sum of gold that only angered Hulagu. Th

  is letter is the result.”

   | t r e e of pe a r l s , qu e e n of e g y p t Hearing himself accused, the Dawadar rose to his own defense. “I have not

  changed my mind, your Highness,” he haughtily declared. ”I still believe our

  Minister would have us submit in shame to this tyrant and conciliate him at any

  cost, thereby rendering him yet more greedy and proud.”

  Th

  e Caliph turned to him. “And what is our Dawadar’s opinion, then? Shall

  you go to this savage, as he demands?”

  “Yes, I shall go to him, but at the head of an army, if his Highness permits!”

  Mu’ayyid al-Din was stunned by the man’s sheer arrogance. Th

  e Dawadar

  knew full well that the treasury was almost empty and that the Caliph had been

  obliged to cut the soldiers’ pay. Mu’ayyid al-Din had counseled him to do just this in order to collect the necessary tribute for Hulagu and avoid the threat of war.

  Baghdad’s army had formerly boasted a hundred thousand soldiers. Mu’ayyid al-

  Din had caused eighty thousand to be dismissed, leaving only twenty thousand

  to defend the city, and the Dawadar was aware of this, as was the Caliph. Would

  they fi ght the Tatars with this miniscule army, then?

  “How do you propose to take the war to him when you only have twenty

  thousand men?” the Caliph demanded.