Bensalem Himmich - The Theocrat

During this season Sitt al-Mulk came to have a powerful sense of well-being that she had never experienced before. She used to spend a lot of time walking alone in her palace gardens, where bushes, roses, and trees were garlanded with beautiful scented flowers, and where birds and butterflies filled the air with song and color. In sum, Sitt al-Mulk, like everyone else who had become inured to terror and grief, could hardly believe her own eyes or tolerate the presence of so much beauty. In such circumstances what she needed most was a continuous series of private communions with nature, unsullied by talk of politics or blood.

One spring evening when the sun had almost set, Sitt al-Mulk was sitting in the most beautiful part of her gardens and communing with nature. Her eyes glowed and her complexion shone with sheer emotion; a gentle, scented breeze was toying with her hair and every part of her body. At that moment she closed her eyes and surrendered to a strange, God-inspired sleep. No sooner had she fallen into its embrace that a group of naked and barefoot poets appeared, each of them reading from his own poetry and demanding from her body a touch or a kiss in exchange. They all fell silent and receded when the master poet among them appeared and recited the following line: O love of my life, have pity; for love of you I burn on fire.

Then the master of masters burst on the scene to recite his line of love: For love of you letters within my heart have been titled with tears and sleeplessness.

Lastly there arrived a thin poet. With great merriment he sang a poem fragment to the accompaniment of a chorus of transvestites who repeated the chorus while pinching anyone who objected:

My fault in loving you I cannot, cannot see!

That my goal is to please you That seems good, so good to me!

If you choose to torture me, I care not, care not!

The poets kept topping each other’s efforts in both poetry and drinking till they were all equally drunk and rowdy. They then started hugging and kissing each other, exchanging victory medals, and prancing around singing over and over again, “That seems good, so good to me!”

The way the poets were making a huge row around Sitt al-Mulk and fighting each other to get hold of her only came to an end with the rapid arrival of the senior officials and generals of the state: Ibn Dawwas, Khatir al-Mulk, and al-Druzi. They rudely drove the poets away and started to strip Sitt al-Mulk of her clothes, touching, grabbing, fondling, and kissing her body as they did so. Having decided to have sex with her, they all wanted to go first, whereupon they all started cursing and swearing at each other. They tried casting lots, but nobody won. Then they took up their swords and started fighting. The winner was al-Husayn ibn Dawwas, the Kutami chief. No sooner had he recovered his breath and savored the moment of victory than he started taking his clothes off and preparing to leap on top of Sitt al-Mulk’s naked body and rape her as an act of revenge. He mounted her and started pressing down, but she kept resisting and calling out for help. Almost at once Nasim, the Security Chief, arrived on the scene along with Ibn Miskin, the Chief Lancer, and a contingent of slaves. They pulled Ibn Dawwas off their mistress and dealt him a series of deadly blows. The slaves then did obeisance to her and approached her on their knees. They too leapt on top of her in a crushing mass: one of them was kissing her limbs, another was squeezing her breasts, and still another was rubbing self against her — all with devout blessings. All Ibn Miskin could do was to take spears to them and leave them either dead or wounded. When Nasim noticed signs of lechery in Ibn Miskin’s expression as well, he grabbed his spear and killed him….

Now only Nasim and Sitt al-Mulk remained in this place now crammed with the dead and dying. Night was bidding adieu to its last shadows, and only the groans of the dying disturbed the quiet of an elemental silence. Within this final circle of Sitt al-Mulk’s dream Nasim stood in front of her and stripped.

“The keeper of all secrets, my lady, the victor in every battle, and yet a eunuch! As you can see, I am unable to serve you. Being myself at the point of death, I can no longer conceal from you the degree of my love and passion for you. You are the one I adore, my cause and my guide in this life and on the Day of Resurrection. It is this secret burning inside my heart that has impelled me to do away with all your lovers, one after the other, and to rescue you from all those who shared knowledge of the way you arranged al-Hakim’s murder. Now you must kill my secret by killing me. Otherwise I shall reveal your secret and then kill myself.”

Sitt al-Mulk did not utter a word. Her stomach was upset, her heart was palpitating, and she had difficulty breathing, as though she too were suffering death agonies. Faced with such a determined silence Nasim approached her and emptied a vial of poison into her mouth and another one into his own. He lay down beside her, suckling from her breasts and awaiting the advent of the angel of death.

Next morning, the seventh day of spring in A.H. 414, Sitt al-Mulk’s dead body was discovered, locked in its eternal slumber and looking like one of the houris of paradise. Her hair had turned white, and lines had begun to appear on her face, lending her visage an even greater nobility and radiance.

In accordance with Sitt al-Mulk’s own wishes, her funeral in the caliphal cemetery was a modest affair. A huge crowd walked behind the coffin, and the feelings of grief and loss surpassed even those normally felt by the Shi’a community on the Day of Ashura. After burying the sultana in her final resting-place, Egyptians spent an entire week walking around barefoot, wearing only dark clothes, and only eating barley bread, black lentils, cheese, and salted foods. They closed their shops and thronged to the Azhar mosque and other places of worship where they all prayed to God for mercy on the dead woman.

During that very same week a disturbed young man could be seen walking around the cemeteries and quarters of Cairo. He was of olive complexion and had a mole on his cheek and brilliantly white teeth. He kept wandering about chanting;

Where can I find the burned book?

Whither has the stony night banished the maiden of sunrise?”

Just one year after Sitt al-Mulk’s death, the Egyptians, now ruled by al-Zahir Li-I’zaz Din Allah, set about ridding themselves of all their suppressed anxieties and erasing for ever their fears and constraints. In so doing they exceeded all limits. The young caliph was extremely fond of food, drink, promenades, and songs, and so it was easy for the people to draw him into their activities. For example, on the third day of the Christian feast of Easter, Muslims and Christians gathered at the Miqass Bridge. Tents had been set up, and a huge crowd spent the entire day playing and indulging in all kinds of debauchery. Men and women commingled as they got progressively more and more drunk, so much so that women had to be carried home in baskets. This was a day of wholesale debauchery. 26

In the year A.H. 418 al-Zahir started drinking wine and allowed the people to do likewise, to listen to singing, to drink beer, eat mulukhiyya and various types of fish. People spent a lot of time on amusements. 27

Al-Zahir died in the second half of Sha’ban in A.H. 427, a few days short of his thirty-second birthday. His caliphate had lasted for fifteen years, eight months, and a few days. He loved entertainments and was very fond of singing. In his time people in Egypt were very chic and hired singers and dancers. The whole thing reached unprecedented proportions. 28”

1. Ibn Taghribirdi, Bright Stars , Vol. 4, p. 186.