Tree of Pearls, Queen of Egypt Page 5
Sahban?”
Th
is direct use of his fi rst name delighted Sahban. “My thoughts? I think. . . .
At the very least I think that such a thing has never yet occurred in the history of our Empire.”
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Sallafa smiled and her face took on a gay expression. “Well said. Such shock-
ing heresy is unheard of.”
“Yes,” he replied, “but . . .” He gulped as though afraid to continue.
Sallafa pounced upon his hesitation. “Speak! But what? Speak, I say.”
“But . . . I only wonder how a concubine has managed to attain such an
unthinkable honor.”
“How has she attained it? Have you not heard of ‘Izz al-Din Aybak the Turco-
man, Commander of the Army?”
“Yes, I have heard of him. I understand your meaning, my Lady. And I appre-
ciate the diff erence between Sallafa the Kurd and the fortunate Tree of Pearls, the Turk.”
Sallafa saw in these words an opportunity to broach the subject that plagued
her. “And what is that diff erence?” she asked.
“Th
e diff erence is that the former has remained true to her master’s troth,
while the latter has betrayed it.”
Sallafa pretended to object. “You must not say such things. She is the mother
of Al-Salih’s son, Khalil!”
Sahban immediately sensed the dissimulation behind this protest and he
warmed to the subject. “I only speak the truth, my Lady. I have been in the habit of frequenting this palace for a number of years now and have beheld Sallafa
countless times. My eyes have constantly sought hers but have never as of yet
won the boon of her regard. She stands aloof and proud like no other woman. I
beg your pardon, my Lady, at this admission. As for Tree of Pearls, her relations with ‘Izz al-Din Aybak are common knowledge, though she is the mother of the
departed King’s son. And yet she shall now become Queen of Muslims, and we
shall all be obliged to bow to her will.”
“She shall never be Queen!” Sallafa vehemently cried. “And even if she does,
her reign shall not endure.” Realizing that she had perhaps too boldly revealed
her thoughts, she drew back and anxiously glanced around her, then she plucked
a fl ower from a branch close by and busied herself over it, the hot blood burning her face.
Sahban seized the opportunity that this little scene aff orded him. He lowered
his voice confi dentially. “My Lady, we need not prolong this senseless conversation. If a woman of this palace must rule, then you are certainly the most deserving of the honor, for you hold the highest rank in the King’s harem and you are, moreover, of his own clan.”
sa l l a fa a n d sa h ba n |
“No, Sahban,” Sallafa interrupted, “I have no wish to rule. Women were not
made to wield crown and scepter. Th
is is why I believe that Tree of Pearls’s reign
cannot last. It must not!” she cried, and her eyes spit sparks of anger.
Sahban realized at once that this outburst masked an invitation of sorts. “If
you would deign to place your confi dence in me, my Lady, I shall be the instru-
ment of your will. Reveal your thoughts to me.”
Sallafa hesitated. A momentary confusion, a sudden reticence overcame her.
She unconsciously twisted and tore at the petals of the fl ower in her hand. Before she could gather her thoughts together, Sahban quickly murmured, “If you have
yet to understand my heart’s purpose, I shall declare it openly to you, most beautiful of women. I have been a prisoner of your love from the moment I fi rst saw you. Your reserve—your coldness even—towards me in the lifetime of the Good
King only made me admire and respect your great virtue the more. But now that
the King has departed this world forever, I beseech you: could you fi nd in Sahban a creature that would deserve your confi dence and esteem?”
Sallafa fl ushed and remained silent. She looked about while she struggled to
put her thoughts together, but found nothing but the trees and the fl owers to distract her from the answer she must now give to this direct appeal. Sahban noted
her uneasiness and, taking it as a rebuke, made as if to rise, but Sallafa motioned for him to wait.
“I see that my presence weighs heavily on you, my Lady,” Sahban fi nally said.
“Allow me to take my leave. We should not wish to give fuel to the tongues of
gossips and slanderers.”
Sallafa threw him a burning glance that penetrated to his very bowels. “Gos-
sips and slanderers? I fear no one. As for your presence here, I am in need of it.”
Th
is sudden retort delighted Sahban and he laughed out loud in frank sur-
prise. “If my presence is indeed necessary to you, then I am truly at your command.”
Sallafa sat up and her eyes grew grave. Underneath her veil, her mouth was
now set in fi rm determination. “Do you speak seriously?” she asked Sahban.
“Put me to the test, my Lady—aft er you have bestowed upon me a word to set
my heart at ease. Can I aspire to be the man who deserves your favor?”
She nodded slowly in the affi
rmative. “And to prove it,” she whispered, “I
shall confi de a perilous secret to you; a secret that you must never tell to another living soul.”
“Speak, my Lady, I pray you.”
“I shall charge you, moreover, with a task that is not lacking in danger.”
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“My life is your ransom,” he replied passionately. “I would gladly die if only
to please you.”
“You are from Baghdad, is that not so? You travel there every year?”
“I travel there when it pleases me to do so,” Sahban replied.
“And why do you not prefer to remain in your own country?” Sallafa pursued.
“Am I obliged to answer this question?” he said.
“You are.”
Sahban sighed. “Th
ough this meeting that fate has granted us be ever so
brief, I yet feel that our hearts have known each other for many a year. Allow me then to be perfectly frank with you.”
“Th
at is what I desire of you,” Sallafa replied.
“Know then that I am a Shi‘ite. Th
e Abbasid Caliphs hate the Shi‘a and per-
secute them brutally. Th
e Shi‘a of Baghdad are especially ill-used. Th
is is why
I prefer to live in exile rather than suff er all manner of extortion and plunder yearly instigated by the House of ‘Abbas. I am a wealthy man, and am in no need
of the money I earn as a merchant. I only took up trade for pleasure and as an
excuse to see the wide world. When I do go to Baghdad, I never stay longer than
the time it takes to purchase my stock.”
“And the present Caliph, Al-Musta‘sim?”
Sahban clenched his jaw and his eyes lit up with anger at the mention of this
name. “Al-Musta‘sim is the vilest scoundrel of the House of ‘Abbas. His reign has been bitter indeed.”
Sallafa gazed at him doubtfully and she bowed her head in silence.
“Why do you hesitate, my Lady? Speak your thoughts, I beg you.”
“I do not wish to place you in harm’s way.”
“Danger is love’s most delicate condiment,” Sahban was quick to reply.
Sallafa still hesitated. “Will you then serve me in the name of love, Sahban?”
“If you permit me, my Lady.”
Sallafa sighed. “Listen closely then. Our Turkish concubine shall remain
Queen only as long as it takes you to depart for Baghdad and return from there.”
Sahban understood her purpose perfectly. “I shall do as you bid. Do you wish
me to undertake this mission in my own name or as your messenger?”
“You shall be my messenger,” Sallafa replied. “I shall give you a letter to take to Baghdad. I am certain that she shall be dethroned by decree of the Caliph as
soon as the reply to my letter arrives in Cairo.”
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“To whom do you wish me to deliver the letter?”
“To the Custodian of the Caliph’s Harem. She is my friend and she is
beholden to me. Will you do this?”
Sahban rose. “I shall go immediately. Give me the letter.” He reached into his
girdle and pulled out a pen and inkpot, and from his pocket a blank sheet, and he gave these to Sallafa, who took them from him, fi xing his eyes all the while in a look of fi erce questioning. Th
ey remained locked in this gaze for a space, as though
closely negotiating in some silent, private language, until Sallafa fi nally spoke.
“I am aware, Sahban, that I have entrusted you with a matter of the utmost
gravity on the sole basis of an hour’s interview. Do you not think me overly
impulsive? Shall I escape from this danger unscathed?”
“Listen to your heart. It speaks the truth. If you still doubt the sincerity of my service, I shall take any oath you please. I am your slave.”
“Shall you swear then?”
Th
e merchant prepared to take the oath she seemed to require of him, but
Sallafa suddenly seized his hand with her own hot fi ngers and said, “No, I have no need of this oath.” She took the paper and began to write. She possessed splendid handwriting and diction, for the sultans spare no pains in teaching their concubines the arts of grammar, rhetoric, and poetry. When she had fi nished, she
folded the letter and gave it to Sahban.
“Here is my secret. I place it in your hands. If you succeed in executing my
design, you will have proved your fi ne words.”
He took it from her and only replied “God be with you” as he turned to go,
looking back at her longingly every few paces until he had crossed through the
gate of the garden. She remained behind aft er he had left , lost in thought and fret-ting over the wisdom of the impulsive course she had taken. Th
e memory of his
words and gestures, and his long years of trade at the Palace, all tended to reassure her. Moreover, the envy and spite she harbored against Tree of Pearls was
such that she would have stopped at nothing to bring her to her knees.
The Coronation
the next day, Cairo was abuzz with excitement. Th
e townsfolk, mounted and
on foot, men and women, crowded round the Citadel, and the Ramliyya square
that spread out at its foot bustled with people of all classes. Hawkers selling pas-try, fruit, sweets, and all manner of preserved foods and freshly prepared dishes mingled with the crowds, as did all kinds of fortune-tellers with their diverse
instruments of divination, be they seashells, mirrors, or pebbles. Peddlers and
fortune-tellers hawked their wares and services in a variety of tones and melo-
dies, while the braying of donkeys, the neighing of horses, and the barking of
dogs punctuated the din of the multitude.
If you were to have looked down upon this square from the ramparts of
the Citadel, you would have seen scattered across it groups of people dressed in gay colors, sitting cross legged on the ground and occupied in chewing on some
morsel, or tracing forms in the dust with a stick, or exercising their fi ngers with some nimble device. Others crowded round a performing bear or monkey who
passed the hat around at the end of the spectacle, while still others strained their necks in silent astonishment as they listened to a preacher who did his best to
delight their ears and win their hearts by narrating Prophetic traditions of dubi-ous provenance.
Th
ese popular recitations and the extreme naiveté of the audience who hung
upon every word would not fail to astound you. You might for example hear a
hadith with which you are perfectly well acquainted, but twisted and turned into something entirely unfamiliar, or mixed up haphazardly with an altogether dif-ferent story. Th
is tendency to muddle up and exaggerate the stories and sayings of
the Prophet becomes even more pronounced the farther the subject in question
is from people’s daily experience, such as the one that was now on everyone’s lips: the coronation of a woman as Queen of Muslims—an event they had certainly
t h e c oronat ion |
never seen the like of in their lives. Opinions diff ered on the subject. Explanations were invented, conspiracies were hinted at, and predictions were made.
Some even claimed that the Day of Judgment was at hand, this certainly being, in the general opinion, one of its most manifest signs.
Finally, the trumpets sounded and the beating of the drums made itself heard
over the general clamor. Th
e procession of Mamluk princes, preceded by the mag-
nifi cent horsemen to whom we have already made allusion, could be seen making
its way towards the Citadel. Th
ey wore golden coats of mail that glittered in the
sun and dazzled the eyes of the crowd. Th
ere followed the litter in which sat Tree
of Pearls, borne by stout mules and draped in fi nest silk brocade. Th
e litter was
accompanied by stalwart Mamluk riders in gaily colored garments, who bore aloft
the royal banners. Behind these rode a company of javelin-wielding horsemen and
another of archers. Th
e tumultuous, sea-like multitude of the people followed this
great procession on foot. Th
ere were many amongst them who had abandoned
their labor or shut up their shops for the day in order to see the Queen’s procession pass. Th
ey hoped for no particular recompense for the losses they thereby
incurred, for the common people are easily led into indolence by their primitive simplicity and their natural love of spectacle, and they readily follow any charlatan that comes along, being too easily impressed by appearances. For this reason, their opinions on a given matter oft en tend to be far from judicious.
Th
e procession reached the great Madraj Gate of the Citadel, which faced out
onto the city of Cairo. A group of armed soldiers stood at the Gate to prevent the crowds from following the procession into the fortress. In order to prevent the
obstruction of the Citadel’s courtyard, its other gate—the one facing the necropolis—had been kept closed for the day. At the farthest end of this vast courtyard stood an interior gate that led to the private quarters of the Sultan, the princes, and their soldiers. Th
is area also boasted a mosque, as well as the Great Hall
where the Sultan received his ministers and princes.
Th
e crowds that remained outside the Citadel were obliged to content them-
selves with the receding echo of trumpets and drums. Having crossed the court-
yard, the procession now reached the interior gate already mentioned. Only the
very noblest of those present—princes, senior offi
cers, and so forth—were allowed
to pass this gate. Th
ose who remained behind were nonetheless content to have
been honored—un
like the common folk—with the privilege of being allowed to
enter the precincts of the Citadel.
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Past the gate and through a wide corridor on either side of which stood
the buildings in which the great fortress’s inhabitants resided, the horsemen
dismounted. A group of them attended to Tree of Pearls and helped her to de-
scend from her stately litter. A number of corridors and doors still remained to be crossed before the procession—now on foot—would arrive at the Sultan’s Great
Hall. Th
ese had been laid with carpets and hung with banners and all manner of
fragrant green wreaths. ‘Izz al-Din Aybak and the other princes, dressed in their best fi nery, accompanied Tree of Pearls, who was on this day adorned in the most exquisite fashion. A canopy of embroidered silk supported by four poles and carried by four offi
cers had been especially designed for her. Flanked by a number
of eunuchs and accompanied by Shwaykar, she now proceeded to the Royal Hall
under cover of its billowing curtains.
Only the noblest of the company were permitted to enter here: those ambi-
tious and power-hungry men who are accustomed to bending the common peo-
ple to their will like rude cattle by dispensing a meal here, a sermon there, or perhaps a fi ne eulogy to some governor or saint adored by the crowd.
Th
e canopy that hid Tree of Pearls from sight proceeded onto the raised dais
on which the golden Royal Couch had been placed, and the structure with its
ample drapes was placed so as to cover the Couch entirely. Tree of Pearls seated herself in such a manner as to be completely invisible to the assembled company, with Shwaykar at her side and the eunuchs standing at attention. Th
e Chief Justice
now entered and took his place to the right of the canopy, and behind him stood
the Intendant of the Royal Treasury and the Controller of the Offi
ce of Market
Inspector. To the left of the canopy stood the Secretary of the Chancellery, next to a number of ministers and other senior offi
cials. ‘Izz al-Din Aybak, General of
the Army, and the chiefs of the Mamluk offi
cers—amongst them Rukn al-Din
Baybars—sat at the center of the dais, directly in front of the canopy, while two rows comprising the Chiefs of the Royal Arsenal, the Royal Wardrobe, and the