Tariq Ali - A Sultan in Palermo

The Barons clanged their swords to show approval of their king. Rujari, exhausted, slumped on the throne. The Barons, justiciars and judges did not take too long in their deliberations.

‘We decree that Philip, a traitor to the name of Christian, and an agent of the works of faithlessness under the disguise of faith, shall be consumed by the vengeful flames, so that he who would not have the warmth of love shall feel the fire that burns, and so that no trace shall remain of this worst of men, but that, having been turned to ashes by an earthly fire, he may proceed to perpetual torment in the eternal flames. His fellow-conspirators in evil are also sentenced to death but by normal methods.’

The Amirs and the Muslim notables did not stay to watch the Christians savour their triumph. As soon as the Sultan limped out of the chamber, they left the hall and the palace. A loud wailing could be heard in a section of the palace as they made their way into the streets. To their astonishment these were empty. The people of Palermo, even the Nazarenes, had no desire to witness the fallen Philip dragged through the streets in ignominy. Before they parted the Amir of Catania took them aside and said: ‘They have declared war on us. And I, for one, will not willingly become a headless chicken. We will fight in Catania. We will not surrender and become their slaves or be killed without a struggle. All of you will make your own choices, but I hope you listened carefully to Rujari’s words. It is the end of Siqilliya as we have known it. My friends from Qurlun, your choice is very clear. Either you fight with us or convert now to their faith and turn your mosques into churches. Do not wait for them to do it. In that way you might save your lives, if not your property. I do not know if we will meet again. Peace be upon you and may Allah protect you all.’

A noble from Qurlun restrained his departure. ‘Before you leave, give me your advice. Is there any way we could save our property as well as our lives?’

‘Perhaps by offering the Barons half of what you own tomorrow and your daughters the day after. But don’t delay too long. And one more word of advice. You Qurlunis are so inbred that you think you’re cleverer than everyone else and that your secrets remain safe within your community. You saw what happened to Philip. If you convert, do it properly and don’t meet in secret to pray and fast or circumcise your boys. Learn to worship the bleeding man on the wooden cross and the mother who remained a virgin after his birth.’

The Amirs of Catania and Siracusa walked away together, both enraged by Rujari’s speech and the verdict.

‘I hope Rujari dies soon, freeing us from our oaths of loyalty. Our presence here is now under serious threat. Our culture is tottering and if we do not act it will fall.’ It was the first time the Siracusan had spoken that day.

‘I think his speech has freed us already. Idrisi’s messenger told me that the Trusted One will instruct his followers to capture three monasteries the minute they receive the verdict on Philip. I think the lighthouses will be busy today. My ship is ready to sail. Are you accompanying me or did you bring your own vessel?’

‘I did and will sail later today.’

The two men embraced and went their separate ways.

Inside the palace walls, Philip was handed to the justiciars, who removed his chains and tied him to the hooves of wild horses. The horses had to be restrained as they reached the gates. Every palace window was crowded with people. They watched in horror and it was later reported that young William, the only remaining legitimate son of Rujari, had tears in his eyes. He had been exceptionally close to the condemned man. Philip had taught him astronomy. The Barons and monks and their retainers stood behind the horses to follow the victim to his death. Outside only a few monks and Nazarenes watched, but less than a hundred in all, and this in a city of three hundred thousand people. There were reports that the mosques and synagogues were overfull that day as special prayers were said to honour Philip. The qadi was seen hurrying in the direction of Ayn al-Shifa to try and contain the hotheads.

The palace gates were opened. The grotesque procession moved forward. Philip’s limbs were bleeding, but he held his face high even as he was being violently dragged and some of those who had come to watch turned away. A lime-kiln close to the palace had been prepared and a fire had been blazing even before the trial had begun. The justiciars untied the man who was covered in blood. They lifted him above their shoulders and hurled him into the flames.

Then they all returned to the palace where a grand banquet had been prepared in honour of those who had passed judgement on an enemy of their faith. Rujari pleaded ill-health and was not present at the celebrations. Nor was his son William.

After a private conference with his friend from Catania, the Amir of Siracusa had instructed his men to make the ship ready to sail at short notice. Walking slowly towards the house where his wife was lodged, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A shiver of fear ran through him, but it was only a grim-faced Idrisi and his retainers.

‘Ibn Muhammad, what a relief it is you,’ he said wiping the sweat from his face.

‘It has been a catastrophe. The trial was as you suggested, even worse.’

‘I have just returned from the mosque. It was a dignified farewell but our young men are angry and I fear there will be some violence in the city tonight. Were you walking to my house? Good. We shall arrive together.’

‘Ibn Muhammad, could you ask your men to let us talk on our own?’ Idrisi signalled to Ibn Fityan who told his men to slow down. The Amir confided to him that they would now plan a full-scale rebellion in their regions and drive the Franks out.

‘It will take us a few years yet, but the preparations must start now. I know I sometimes give people the impression of not being as steadfast as the Trusted One. But whatever doubts I may have had disappeared today. They declared war on us. That’s why I have a favour to ask of you…’

Idrisi’s love for Balkis and its consequences.

IDRISI DID NOT HAVE long to wait for the three women outside the Chamberlain’s room at the front of the palace. Relieved of their hurriedly packed clothes by his retainers, he walked back with them to his house. The sky was so starry and active and Idrisi so delighted that he almost forgot the weight of events to come.

‘I thought that nights like this happen only when one is young,’ he said.

‘I am young,’ replied Elinore. ‘And I will never forget this night.’

‘I’m not as old as you and I too will remember this night,’ said Balkis.

‘I am older than both of them, but why should enjoyment be left to the young?’

‘How far is your house, Abi?’

Idrisi smiled before replying. ‘None of you know the loneliness that has afflicted me for so many years. When Walid left home without telling us I thought everyone was forsaking me and I became despondent. Tonight I feel all that is over. And we are nearly home. Can you see those lit windows on the hill? Another few minutes and we’ll be there.’

A palace messenger had already conveyed news of the Sultan’s decision releasing Mayya to Ibn Fityan and so he was waiting with the rest of the household to welcome the new lady of the house and the master’s daughter. Balkis was welcomed equally warmly. The torches held high charmed the women as they walked up the steps.

‘Have the rooms been prepared?’

‘Yes, Ibn Muhammad,’ replied the steward, ‘but we were not expecting a third guest. It will not take long to prepare a guest chamber.’