Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

“Say what you would like, and I will do it.”

“My exiled situation has made me forget what I want. Perhaps you — and may God support you — may know what it is that I wish.”

“Now that you have given me your verdict on the caliphate, how can I refuse you permission to return to your family? Since I’m in a good mood, ask me for any other desires you have.”

“That you release Burhan al-Din ibn Muflih — may God grant you a good reward. Also that you give scribes and craftsmen in Damascus a safe-conduct document so that their lives and wages can be preserved.”

“Your recalcitrant colleague will not be released until I leave this city. The document you can have.”

‘Abd al-Rahman expressed his profuse thanks to the khan and pronounced a number of prayers for his well being.

“They tell me,” said the khan as ‘Abd al-Rahman was about to leave, “that you ride a grey mule with a fine build. Will you sell it to me?”

“You want to buy it from me? Heaven forbid! If I had a whole stable full of fine mules and gave that to you, it would not be adequate compensation for your generosity and kindness toward me. Please accept the mule as a gift. Now I ask permission to leave so I can give the people of Damascus the good news about the safe-conduct document.”

‘Abd al-Rahman went to Shah Malik’s quarters and collected the document with Timur’s seal on it. He then went over to the horse pen by the palace gate but found no trace of his mule. He then understood that the walls of this place had ears and consigned the entire matter to God.

On Friday, the twenty-first of Rajab in the same year, ‘Abd al-Rahman woke up early, intending to leave for Egypt as soon as possible before the khan changed his mind. He was still worried by the fact that he had received no news from Umm al-Batul and wanted to find out why. He collected his things together, then went to visit some judges and scribes. He handed over the khan’s safe-conduct document, bade them all a fond farewell, then headed for al-Ablaq Palace on foot followed by his servant. Timur was seated in the sitting room surrounded by his two sons and retainers. The distinguished visitor hurried over to him. Timur whispered something in his ear that he didn’t understand, so he asked the translator to help.

“It’s obviously a woman who is responsible for your desire to leave us and go away. O Ibn Khaldun, how well I understand you and forgive you. I too have my wife in Samarqand, and we love each other. Her image is constantly with me. Neither campaigns, nor harems, nor all the women in the world can make me forget her. You and I are both almost seventy years old, and yet we both have room in our hearts for one woman above all others. Praise be to the ever-renewing Creator! Go then and take the quickest route to your destination. Here is a letter with my seal. You can use it to travel throughout my dominions. Should you one day find yourself with nowhere to go and wish to live under my protection, you can use it to come to my capital city. Here is my son. Shah Rukh. He is traveling to Shaqhab to find some spring pasturage for my animals. If you wish, you may travel safely with him. Whenever you meet sultans and amirs, tell them about me. And pray to your Lord for me that he may accord me the keys of this world and bliss in the next.”

‘Abd al-Rahman now exchanged an embrace with Timur, but said nothing more for fear of prolonging the meeting or venturing some unwise comments. He asked the khan’s permission to head for Safad as the closest seaport, and it was granted.

On the same day, a caravan left, including some people for whom ‘Abd al-Rahman’s intercession with the khan had been effective; the majority of them were Mamluks in the secretarial professions. After one day’s traveling, the company was attacked by Bedouin who stripped them of all their possessions and left them naked but for their trousers. It was in that state that they arrived at al-Subayba after two days of rapid travel. Having replaced their clothing, they headed for Safad and rested there for a few days. At that point, one of the boats of Ibn ‘Uthman, sultan of Byzantium, arrived and transported them as far as Gaza from where they traveled overland to Egypt.

On the first day of Sha‘ban, ‘Abd al-Rahman parted from his travel companions and urged his camel-driver toward al-Mahmudiya, the quarter where he lived.

Once we reached al-Mahmudiya, I headed straight for my house on foot, without either burnous or possessions. After such a long absence I was longing to hug my wife and daughter. I knocked insistently on the door, and Sha‘ban opened it. There he stood, mouth agape, eyes staring. He was so surprised and shocked he almost fainted.

I gave him the warmest of embraces as he welcomed my return and gave thanks to the Creator for my safe delivery. I asked him about my wife and daughter, but all he could do was keep saying, “A miracle from God! I have prayed to you, O God, to keep my Master safe from harm, and here You have brought him back to his family safe and sound! You have answered my prayer!”

“What about my wife, Sha‘ban?” I insisted. “Where’s my daughter?”

“It’s hard for me to stand, Master. Please sit here beside me, and I’ll tell you. When the Egyptian army returned to Cairo, the rumor spread that you’d been killed. ‘The great polymath from the Maghrib has been killed by the Mongol wolf,’ they all said. When your wife heard the news, her nerves gave way. Her brother — God curse him — convinced her to go back with him to her family in Fez. I blamed him for what he was doing, but he kept saying over and over again, ‘You’ve blamed me, old man, you’ve blamed me! Keep on doing it, I love being blamed!’ On the day they left, I tried to stop them, but he was too strong for me.”

“How is the little girl, Sha‘ban?”

“Like all little girls of her age, she fell sick. All that encouraged her mother to take her back to Fez to consult a physician there. But I’m sure she’s fine.”

Now that I had returned, albeit bruised and battered, I had a host of questions. However, I decided to postpone them till I was safely reinstalled in my office and could think about the next move. Every day I asked Sha‘ban a few more questions; sometimes the answers I got were useful, but, more often than not, they just led to yet more questions. For more than a month I did not leave the house. The only relief I could get from my misery was through prayers, intercessions, and continual supplications for relief from my worries. Toward the end of the month, I started to get the better of my depression, particularly once I had decided to make preparations for a journey to Fez in search of my wife who had disappeared. However, my plans on that score were interrupted by an unexpected visit from one of Sultan Faraj’s messengers. He came to tell me about his journey to Timur in order to convey to him the Mamluks’ acceptance of the peace agreement. He also told me that, just before the Mongols finally departed, Damascus and the mosque had been set on fire again. As he was about to leave, he urged me, with a sinister sneer in his voice, to accept a purse of money from Timur in payment for the mule he had purchased from me. However, I refused to accept the purse until I had consulted the sultan on the matter.

By noon on the same day I managed to overcome my weariness and depression enough to make my way to the al-Ablaq Palace. I needed to remove any shadow of suspicion of treason and bribery as soon as possible and to nip any plots and intrigue in the bud.

While waiting for my meeting with the sultan, I asked the chamberlain — who was only recently hired — where Yashbak was and learned that he had been appointed viceroy of Alexandria. So there was yet more news to make a bad situation worse and lessen my hopes of restoration to favor. When I went into Faraj’s chamber, I found him busy talking to his companions. I walked over and greeted him. In a clearly audible voice I told him about the mule, the way that Timur had taken it from me, the amount of money in the purse, and my innocence of any malice in the matter. I asked that it be either returned to its owner or else registered in the treasury.