Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

May God support you! Here thirty or forty years have passed during which I have aspired to meet you. For you are the sultan of the world, the monarch of this earth. I do not believe that, since the time of Adam himself, a ruler such as you has appeared. You are not one to talk of matters at random. I myself am a scholar and I will explain what I mean: Strong rule depends on the solidarity of the community; the extent of authority depends on the existence of such a sentiment in abundance. Scholars past and present are in total accord that the greatest peoples in the world belong to two groups: Arabs and Turks. You are well acquainted with the Arabs and their rulership, how they came together under the banner of Islam with their Prophet. The Turks achieved the same through their rivalries with the kings of Persia. The way their king Afrasiyab snatched Khurasan from their hands is an indication of their quota of monarchical qualities. No one can match their group solidarity; no ruler on earth rivals them — neither Chosroes nor Caesar, neither Alexander nor Nebukhadnezzar. Consider Chosroes, monarch of the Persians; but where do they stand in comparison with the Turks? Or take Caesar and Alexander, rulers of the Roman empire, where are they compared with the Turks? Nebukhadnezzar ruled Babylon and Nabatea, but where is he compared with the Turks? All this stands as proof of what I have just stated about this great ruler.

At first Timur ground his teeth and frowned, but then he let out an abrupt laugh, which ‘Abd al-Rahman took as a good sign. Timur only resumed his former demeanor when his chamberlain informed him that the judges of Damascus were awaiting his pleasure in the tent outsider He ordered them to be brought in, then walked over toward them, dragging his clubfoot behind him. ‘Abd al-Rahman followed behind along with the translator and mingled with his colleagues, focusing his attention on getting Timur to greet Burhan al-Din and Shaykh Mahmud ibn al-’Izz and talk to them both through the medium of Ibn al-Nu‘man who was explaining things to everyone present. The gist of what Timur said was that he always appreciated the intelligence of religious scholars and looked forward to discussing matters sacred and secular with them. But such things were always better after a meal.

Timur went out of the tent and was followed by some senior officials. He took them to a tent where a feast had been laid out, mostly consisting of boiled lamb. Everyone ate as much as he wished. Some people communicated in whispers, while others used gestures. Timur sat there on his chair, eyeing everyone and urging those who were eating little to take more. From time to time someone outside the tent kept reciting:

Eat the feast of one who, if alive, would relay it to his family;

And, if dead, would meet God Almighty with full stomach .

When Timur made to stand up with the aid of his servants, ‘Abd al-Rahman snatched the opportunity to go over to Burhan al-Din and ask him about the keys to the city of Damascus: had they, he asked, been handed over to Timur? He also asked about the disappearance of Shadid al-Din, the shaykh of the poor. He informed ‘Abd al-Rahman that the shaykh was actually present, but had blended into the crowd like a tiny hair inside a cooking pot. Timur would not be demanding the keys at this point, but intended to wait till he could take the judges to the city gates where everyone could witness the official surrender.

Once Timur had stood up, propping his leg on a gold box, he gave everyone a piercing stare and identified someone behind them hiding by a tent pole. He shouted at him what sounded like angry orders. The translator came over to Timur: “The great leader orders the man hiding to eat.” The man in question let out a cry that shook the whole tent and followed it with a ringing retort, “Tell him I will not eat.” Everyone turned round in amazement and discovered that the man in question was none other than the shaykh of the poor, with his simple face, piercing eyes, and proverbial skinniness. He started countering Timur’s threats by reciting, “As a Muslim I care not when I am to be killed; in whatever quarter my death belongs to God alone.” Everyone was now convinced that the shaykh was going to die for sure. However, Timur rapidly calmed down and launched into a succession of phrases, punctuated by gestures and grimaces that swung from fiery expatiation to sarcastic rebuke. Once finished he sat down on his chair again.

“Praise be to Him, to other than Whom no praise is due!” began the translator. “He gives authority to whomever He wills and grants victory likewise. I have left your poor shaykh to his own devices; he can go where we wills. He is full of stuff and nonsense. Do you know why I spare such indigents my punishment? It is because the strand that connects him with life is thinner than a spider’s web; such people care for survival not a jot. This shaykh who clings to my tent pole is one such person; indeed among their number he counts as one of the most stubborn and rigid. What’s the point of cutting him in two when he’s already like liquid or quicksilver? No, no! Spare me the world’s hermits and all others who are weak in body or provision. Spare not just them but all others whose necks my swords wish to shun. Rather, give me sultans and grandees who rebel, people I encounter as foes during campaigns. I set my ravens on their heads before they are executed and force them to commit themselves to bloody conflict. The Circassian Faraj ibn Barquq is so afraid I might make him taste my punishment that he has run away. And you can pass on a message to his commander in the Damascus citadel: I will invade his domain like a roaring flood and crash of lightning and destroy this heretic’s citadel just as I did previously to others. I intend to pulverize him in revenge for his stubbornness and arrogance and as a lesson to he learned by all such upstarts who choose to hoard silver and gold for themselves. That lesson is that their time is up. They can say farewell to all pomp and splendor and wash their hands of life itself.

“ O ye who believe, obey God and those in authority among you— God the Mighty, the Wise has spoken truly. Obedience to me is a solemn obligation on all those whom I have conquered. I am what is ordained to be good; anything other than me is the opposite. This is the age of the Mongols, descended from the Chagatai, and no others. My rule is established in canon law and reinforced by the readings of astrologers in the heavenly firmament. Your own colleague, Ibn Khaldun, has confirmed these facts and confirmed for mc what I know and all of you do as well. God preserve you all!

“Judges, if I have been sent to renew obedience to God through obedience to me, then why do people insist on defying me?

“Is the one who has invaded kingdoms and cities to be resisted?

“Is the one who has subdued peoples and communities to be resisted?

“Is the one who has bridled kings and sultans and brought down crowns and thrones to be resisted?

“The Mamluk Faraj and his army should have strewn my path with roses and jasmine. They should have thrown rice at me and sprayed me with perfume and rose water. They should have greeted me with dates and milk, with kisses and embraces. But instead, that manumitted slave has chosen the path of arrogance and loathing. When he came out to meet me with his army, we crushed them and sent them reeling backward; their deeds were like a mirage in a depression which the thirsty man imagines to be water —God the Devout, the Almighty has spoken truly.

“Verily it is our dead alone who are genuine martyrs.

“O God, make our martyrs dwell in Paradise!

“O God, shower them with the abundant rains of mercy and forgiveness!

“O God, prolong the life of our great lord, Timur, sustained by God!