Tariq Ali - A Sultan in Palermo

‘Is that true?’

‘Could I invent such a place?’

‘And why did the Hauteville clan and its retainers come here?’

‘They were warriors who fought for whoever paid them and like others in their position, they realised that the Amirs who needed them must be weak. And so they thought why fight for this man when we are stronger than him? We could rule in his place. They must have been blessed by Allah. Look what they found on this island. A great deal of wealth and cultivated land in plenty. Rich harvests of wheat and fresh fruits of every description. The papyrus from which we made paper they had never seen before. Nor had they imagined a city so rich and large as Palermo. Two hundred thousand people lived there when the Franks arrived. They came as conquerors and, at first, they were cruel. But once we decided it was impossible to resist them, they lived with us in peace and realised they needed us to teach them all we knew. And they liked our women.’

Elinore smiled.

‘Do you know something, Abu? The story the Sultan told us each year was not so different. He talked of his father and uncle and the deeds of their family as well, but apart from that, it’s the same story. Is that not strange?’

‘It is rare for conqueror and the conquered to share the same story. The reason is obvious. The majority of those who live here follow our Prophet and to remove them all without anyone to replace them would make this island poor and forlorn. Roger and his father understood this well. Will their sons and grandsons?’

For a while they spoke of stars and ships and she wanted to know what he knew of Carthage, and of the Phoenicians who had built it. And was it true they had sailed to Ifriqiya simply by trusting the stars? He told her all that he knew and from the way her eyes attended he could see how she was absorbing the knowledge. Each knew it was not enough. They would return again to these matters and to the closeness they felt for each other.

After a silence she asked him about Walid. At first he did not reply. She pressed him again. ‘I know you love him dearly. My mother has told me that, but she could never explain why he ran away or what happened to him.’

‘He is alive and well. He works for a Jewish silver merchant in Venice. I will go and see him soon and bring him back, if I can. Sometimes children become gloomy and indolent if they are permanently in the shadow of their fathers. A period of separation can help. I was no different myself at that age.’

‘Do you think that all these years in my mother’s shadow have made me lazy and miserable?’

He took her hand and kissed it. ‘No, my child. The stars have smiled on you and your mother. Also you are a woman. Men have different needs.’

Before Elinore could challenge this, her mother entered the library. ‘Who won the chess?’

‘We both did,’ replied her daughter. ‘As you can see neither of us has yet made a move. The table has not been touched.’

Then Mayya turned to him. ‘Muhammad, last night we discussed something and your response made me angry.’

He frowned, indicating that the conversation she proposed was best held in private.

‘Elinore and I have no secrets. It’s best that way. It prevents us from eavesdropping on each other’s conversations.’

‘Very well,’ he said in a resigned voice.

‘I spoke to Balkis and Aziz a few minutes ago. He will marry us today if you agree.’

‘But the Sultan…’ Idrisi saw her expression and froze.

‘I am not married to Rujari. I was his concubine, as you reminded me on many occasions. This is your daughter, not his, but if you wait till his death I will not marry you. You married your wife because you were a coward and you will not marry me today for the same reason.’

Idrisi rose and moved towards her, but she extended her arms to keep him away.

‘Listen to me, Mayya, and listen carefully. This kingdom is on the verge of an explosion. Philip is going to be tried for treason and burnt. The Bishops would regard our marriage as an open provocation. Have you forgotten your conversion to their faith? I know it meant nothing to you and you were simply pleasing Rujari, but the monks do not take these matters lightly.’

Mayya was in no mood to listen to anything. ‘The situation you describe will get worse after Rujari dies. Muhammad, we would have been crushed by sorrow had we not held on to each other all these years. I am not suggesting we endanger Elinore or ourselves. We will have to wait before we can live together, but the marriage must take place today. It can remain a secret for as long as you like, but it must happen. If you refuse I will never see you again. I will take Elinore and vanish.’

Elinore remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

‘I know you would not do that because cruelty is absent in you, but if the marriage is to remain secret then I see no problem. Did you agree a time with the Amir?’

‘After the evening prayer.’

‘You realise that before I can marry you I will insist that you convert back to our faith.’

‘It has already been done and in the presence of my sister and her husband. Anything else you require from me, husband?’

‘Yes. Total obedience. Remember the sura in al-Quran, which…’

‘Silence, Ibn Muhammad al-Idrisi. What I cannot bear is the thought of separation again.’

‘Is there any reason for you to return to Palermo?’

‘None, but where should I go?’

‘You could stay here till we decide where you wish to live. Your sister provides a perfect excuse. And Rujari is far too preoccupied to notice your absence.’

‘But all our clothes and everything else is in Palermo,’ said Elinore.

‘The clothes can be sent for, but what is the everything else that you speak of?’ asked her father.

‘Abu, it’s Palermo I will miss. We cannot live in Siracusa. This is a city you visit.’

‘Child, it’s better you stay here for the next few months. The mood in Palermo will be ugly after Philip is burnt to death. We may not be able to control the multitude and they may attack the palace. Send for everything you need. When things have calmed down, you can return.’

Later that evening, the Amir summoned them to his private chamber, dismissed the retainers and performed a simple marriage ceremony.

A modest meal had been prepared so that there was not a hint of a celebration. Mayya and Balkis reminisced about their parents and their brothers, who had left the family home and moved away from the island to al-Andalus. Elinore and her father were happy to listen to the sisters so obviously enjoying themselves, but the Amir retired early, pleading a long journey the next day. After the table had been cleared they repaired to the moonlit terrace for mint tea, together with the sweet mixture of dates and hardened milk for which Siracusa was renowned. They could hear the sound of waves breaking gently against the rocks below.

‘Elinore,’ said her aunt, ‘is this not the most beautiful sight? I will show you an even better view of the sea from my chamber and convince you to stay here for a few months. Come with me, child.’ Elinore took her aunt’s hand and the two women walked away.

‘Why is your sister childless? Is it…’

‘It is the Amir,’ sighed Mayya. ‘It is his bird that refuses to sing. Balkis is his second wife. He allowed the first one to depart when she did not have a child. It is clear the problem lies with him and nor does he pretend otherwise. He is a very kind man.’

‘Ibn Quzman would not recognise that there is a problem.’

Mayya laughed loudly. ‘Balkis is not unhappy. He is a kind and sensitive man and often, she says, the sight of her unrobed produces a pitched tent underneath his tunic. All that is lacking is the seed.’