Jack Hight - Kingdom

‘Perhaps now that Allah has blessed him, Nur ad-Din will listen to my request.’

‘I will ask him.’

‘ Shukran ,’ Shawar said and bowed, a hand over his heart. ‘You are a true friend, Saladin.’

Yusuf entered the antechamber to Nur ad-Din’s apartments to find that his uncle Shirkuh and the eunuch Gumushtagin had arrived before him. Shirkuh was handing his sword and dagger over to the guards who protected the king. Gumushtagin saw Yusuf first.

‘As-salaamu ‘alaykum, Saladin,’ he said. Yusuf nodded curtly.

‘Young eagle!’ Shirkuh cried. He embraced Yusuf and kissed him three times, the appropriate greeting between male relatives. ‘Have you heard the news? An heir to the kingdom! Perhaps this will finally dispel the dark cloud our lord has been living under.’

‘Inshallah, Uncle.’

Yusuf removed the belt that held his sword and handed it to one of the guards. Another guard pushed the door open and waved them inside. ‘The Malik is in his study.’

They found Nur ad-Din bent over his broad desk, lost in thought as he studied an architect’s rendering. The king had changed much in the six months since his defeat at Butaiha. His black hair was now peppered with grey, his once tanned face was sallow and he had dark circles under his eyes. Deep lines of worry creased his forehead. Nur ad-Din was not yet fifty, but he looked like an old man.

‘Malik,’ Gumushtagin said. ‘We have come at your bidding.’

Nur ad-Din straightened. ‘Friends!’ Yusuf saw that the fire had returned to his bright, golden eyes. The king grinned, and his tired face seemed suddenly youthful again. He rounded the table and embraced first Shirkuh and then Yusuf. ‘I have a son! I have named him Al-Salih. Allah has blessed me! From this day, I shall redouble my efforts to serve Him. The great mosque shall be rebuilt, and I shall establish a madras in Aleppo, a school of learning greater than any the world has ever known.’

‘What of the war against the Franks?’ Shirkuh asked.

Nur ad-Din’s expression darkened. ‘I have a score to settle with King Amalric. Come summer, I will strike the Kingdom of Jerusalem in the north.’

‘And Egypt?’ Yusuf asked. ‘What of Shawar’s offer?’

‘Egypt is not my concern. I need my men with me to fight the Franks.’

‘But my lord, we must do something,’ Yusuf insisted. ‘The Frankish king has allied with the current vizier, Dhirgam. Egypt pays Amalric tribute, money he will use to purchase mercenaries. By helping Shawar retake Egypt, you will weaken the Franks.’

‘And strengthen your own position, Malik,’ Gumushtagin added. Yusuf was surprised to find the eunuch on his side. ‘You would be overlord of Egypt.’

Nur ad-Din’s brow furrowed as he considered their arguments. ‘Can this Shawar be trusted?’

‘He is my friend,’ Yusuf said. ‘His word is true.’

‘And what does the Egyptian caliph think of him, I wonder.’ Nur ad-Din went to the window, where he stood looking out for a long time. ‘I will let Allah decide,’ he said at last. He took a bound copy of the Quran from a bookshelf that lined the back wall of the room. He handed the book to Yusuf. ‘Open it.’

‘Where, Malik?’

‘Wherever your hand falls.’

Yusuf placed a finger in the middle of the book and flipped it open.

‘Read,’ Nur ad-Din told him.

Yusuf cleared his throat. ‘ And those who disbelieve are allies of one another, and if the faithful do not join together to make Islam victorious, there will be chaos and oppression on earth, and a great mischief and corruption .’

Shirkuh’s eyes widened, and he touched his nose with his right forefinger, indicating that the answer was right in front of him. ‘Allah has spoken, and his meaning is clear. He wants you to unite the faithful of Egypt and Syria. We must help Shawar.’

‘There is no denying the meaning of the passage,’ Gumushtagin agreed.

Nur ad-Din nodded. ‘Very well. Shirkuh, you will go to Egypt and place this Shawar back on the vizier’s throne.’

Shirkuh touched his palm to his chest and bowed. ‘As you wish, Malik.’

‘I will go, too,’ Yusuf said.

‘No, Saladin. I need you here to help prepare my campaign against the Franks.’

Yusuf’s chest tightened at the thought of another year in Aleppo. ‘I am a warrior, Malik. I best serve you on the field of battle. Once Egypt is ours, I will return for your campaign against the Franks.’

Nur ad-Din sighed. ‘As you wish. At least I can count on Gumushtagin to stay and advise me.’ The eunuch bowed. Nur ad-Din looked back to Shirkuh. ‘You will gather your army at Damascus and ride from there to Egypt. Do not fail me. I cannot afford another defeat.’

‘I will not fail, Malik. I will bring you a kingdom.’

Shirkuh left to begin gathering the army, but Yusuf remained at the palace late into the afternoon, discussing with Nur ad-Din and Gumushtagin the number of men that would be needed in Egypt and the taxes required to fund the expedition. Finally, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the muezzins began the call for evening prayers, Nur ad-Din dismissed them.

Yusuf passed through the antechamber to the dim, spiral stairwell that led to the ground floor of the palace. He was halfway down when Gumushtagin caught up with him. ‘Wait, Saladin. I wish to speak with you.’

Yusuf examined the eunuch with distaste. ‘What do you want?’

‘Only to help you. We are bound to one another, you and I. You saved my life, Yusuf. And I know your secret.’ Gumushtagin lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Asimat’s child-your child-will be king when Nur ad-Din dies.’

Yusuf felt his stomach twist. Gumushtagin was as dangerous as a snake, and he was the only one who knew the truth. ‘What do you want from me?’

Gumushtagin smiled. ‘I ask little. Go to Egypt with your uncle. Keep me informed. Each week, send me a report via pigeon post. When the time is right, I will let you know what to do. If you do as I ask, then you will be vizier of Egypt, and your son will be king.’

Vizier of Egypt. Yusuf had dreamed of ruling a kingdom since he was a child, and for a moment he felt a surge of his old ambition. Then he shook his head. ‘Shawar is to be vizier. He is my friend.’

The eunuch’s smile faded, and when he spoke again his voice had a dangerous edge. ‘You have committed treason, Saladin. If you oppose me, it will cost you your life.’

Yusuf rubbed his beard, unsure what to say. It would be easy enough to keep Gumushtagin informed, but where would it end? Yusuf knew the eunuch well enough to know that the next service he demanded would not be so easy.

‘It is not just your own life that is at stake, Saladin,’ Gumushtagin insisted. ‘Think of Asimat, of Al-Salih. They will die if Nur ad-Din learns the truth.’

‘Very well,’ Yusuf said reluctantly. ‘I will do as you ask.’

A week later, after the supplies and men needed for the expedition had been gathered, Yusuf again strode through the halls of the palace. He had come straight from the dry plain outside the city, where the troops were preparing to depart, and his dark-grey mail was covered in a layer of dust. He stopped before the door to the harem. The two eunuch guards lowered their spears towards his chest. ‘The lady Asimat has summoned me,’ he told them.

One of the guards nodded. ‘Follow me.’ He led Yusuf down a long corridor. It was not the first time Yusuf had visited the harem. Several years ago, after Asimat miscarried, Nur ad-Din himself had encouraged Yusuf to visit her, hoping that he could cheer her. That meeting had led to others, and then to a passionate affair. But Yusuf had put an end to things months ago. He had been in bed with Asimat when the great earthquake struck, and he did not doubt that it was a sign from Allah. The last time they had met, Yusuf had lied to Asimat: he had told her that he did not love her. She had slapped him and called him a coward. He had thought he would never see her again. Why had she called for him now? Did she miss him? Did she want him? Yusuf pushed the thoughts from his mind. It did not matter. He would not betray his lord again. He had just formed this resolution when they reached the door to her apartments, and the eunuch guard pulled it open.