Tariq Ali - A Sultan in Palermo

And with these words Philip and the Chief Eunuch departed, leaving the rest of the company in a state of mute shock. Idrisi felt the qadi ’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Could you not intercede with the Sultan on his behalf?’

He nodded silently. As he left the room Ibn Fityan joined him and the two men walked in silence through the inner courtyard and out into the street. When he finally reached his house he was greeted by the soft sound of the flute. He paused before the door as Ibn Fityan asked his worried question: ‘Amir Philip refused to leave the island?’

Idrisi’s sad eyes turned towards his servant and the eunuch knew that it was too late to save Philip. The door opened. Thawdor had sighted them and the music had ceased.

‘Bring your son to me, Thawdor,’ instructed Idrisi.

The man did as he was asked. The boy fell on his knees and attempted to kiss Idrisi’s feet, but he stepped aside, took the boy by the arm and raised him to his feet. ‘Never do that again, Simeon ibn Thawdor. You are not a slave. Have you recovered from the journey?’

‘Yes, master,’ the boy replied with downcast eyes.

‘I have spoken with your father. You will come with me to the palace where I have arranged for you to be taught how to read and write.’

The boy looked up and smiled. ‘I am grateful, sir, but I am equally happy to go to the madresseh. I do not wish to trouble you any more.’

‘Why should you trouble me?’

‘The palace is for the children of the Sultan and I am not fit to learn with them.’

The men burst out laughing, before Ibn Fityan reassured him, ‘Do not worry about that, young man. You will learn with children who are not so different from you. The palace contains the children of all those who work for the Sultan. That’s where I was taught Arab grammar and Greek. What would you like to learn?’

‘Music,’ replied the boy without hesitation.

His father was incredulous. ‘Music?’

‘Yes, father. Music,’ the boy replied.

Idrisi intervened. ‘Listen to me, boy. I have heard you play the flute and I have no doubt that Allah has blessed you with the gift. You play well and you should also learn to play the lute, which will test your skills. There is a great master in Palermo, whose father, also a great musician, was known to my family. I will speak with him and he will teach you the art, but he will do so twice a week. For the remaining days you must learn grammar and logic. Believe me, it might even help with your music.’

The boy was overjoyed. ‘Is the name of the master Abu Salim?’

Idrisi was surprised. The boy was more knowledgeable than he had imagined. ‘It is the same. Have you heard him play the lute?’

The boy nodded. ‘Once I was walking past the tavern, the one close to where the boats are tied, and I heard music which sounded as if it came from heaven. I sat outside and listened for nearly two hours. I asked a man who came out swaying from one side to the other who the musician was. He hit me on the head and said there was only one man who could bring the lute to life like that and it was Abu Salim. Never forget that name, the man said, because you might never hear him again. I never did, even though I often walk past that place, hoping he will be there.’

Thawdor and his son were dismissed with an affectionate touch on the head for the boy. ‘I will keep an eye on you from afar. Ibn Fityan will keep me informed about your progress.’

After they had left, Idrisi signalled to Ibn Fityan that he should sit down. ‘Tell me, who in the palace amongst the Nazarenes is closest to the Sultan?’

‘None of them are close in the way Philip was or you are, master. But it is the pale monk, Antonio of Canterbury, who has the Sultan’s ear. Because he is not from here, the Sultan believes his advice is disinterested. He does not ask for lands or money. He lives simply. They tell me that it was he who advised the Sultan to burn Amir Philip.’

Idrisi had seen Antonio moving around the palace, but had not properly registered his presence. Nor had the Sultan mentioned him, not even once. The Sultan was fearful. That could be the only explanation.

Ibn Fityan coughed discreetly. ‘There is talk in the palace, master, of which you should be informed.’

‘Speak, man. Speak.’

‘There is a plan to kill Antonio.’

‘Whose foolish idea is this? Philip will be enraged. It will not help him. Is the Chief Eunuch aware of this?’

‘He is, but could not convince the others. They intend to kill him tonight or tomorrow and…’

‘And?’

‘The plan is to blame Antonio’s murder on the Greek monks who despise him even more than we do. The story that the eunuchs will circulate is that Antonio was caught in a delicate situation with a young monk and when his real lover realised this, he killed them both.’

‘Is there any truth in this story?’

‘None whatsoever, Amir al-kitab.’

‘So there will be two murders.’

‘If Allah wills.’

‘Allah has not willed this any more than he has willed Philip’s death. These are decisions taken by men on this earth and in Palermo. And both are wrong.’

‘It is too late, master. There is nothing we can do. If you were to warn the Sultan, you would betray my confidence and that of the Chief Eunuch. We would all die together.’

Idrisi could see the logic of this only too well. He would have a bath and reflect on the crisis about to grip the island.

It was while he was soaking in the hammam that he realised the importance of what Philip had said earlier that afternoon. The best way to maintain the presence of Believers in Siqilliya was to support the Hauteville family who had seized the island through a combination of warrior-skills and luck — and the eternal fact: the followers of the Prophet were divided. This last was the real cause of defeat in Palermo and Jerusalem. Which city would fall next? Ishbilia or Gharnata? The sun would grow dark and the oceans boil before Believers would ever unite against an enemy of the faith and then it would be too late.

The attendants had begun to dry him when Ibn Fityan entered the outer chamber of the baths. ‘A message from the palace has just arrived.’

‘The Sultan?’

‘No. It is from the young Princess Elinore. She truly is the Sultan’s favourite and had he married the Lady Mayya, she might have become a Sultana. Allah’s will. Allah’s will. She and her mother will visit their relations on the Sabbath and wish you to join them in Siracusa. The messenger also whispered something else in my ear, master.’

Idrisi dismissed the attendants.

‘Antonio left suddenly today. He boarded a ship for Marseilles. Nobody knows why. The Devil must have warned him.’

‘Or his God. I am relieved by this news. Has the murder of the Greek monk been halted?’

‘Of course, master. The assassins aren’t foolish. What would be the point of breaking a branch while the tree survives?’

The news lightened his mood. Idrisi smiled inwardly. Perhaps with Antonio’s departure, the decision about Philip might at least be delayed. He would write a letter to the Sultan pleading with him to rethink. It might be more effective than a meeting.

‘Pack my clothes. I will leave for Siracusa early tomorrow. I have work of my own.’

‘Will you travel by boat or horse and carriage?’

‘Boat. If I leave early in the morning with the tide, we should be there by early evening. The moon is nearly full. It will be a pleasant journey.’

‘Do you wish me to accompany you?’

‘I need you to stay here and follow events in the palace. When the date for Philip’s trial is agreed, inform me immediately. A single attendant will suffice for this journey.’