Tariq Ali - A Sultan in Palermo

‘How does that threaten you?’ asked Balkis.

‘When I asked who owned the land, now the Bishop was dead and gone, they replied cheerfully that the land had been gifted to them by Hamza ibn Muhammad many years before the arrival of the Nazarenes. I saw the register with my own eyes. It was impeccable. I find it incredible that Hamza, who often came to my palace, could have gifted away his hereditary lands. In fact I don’t believe a word of it. It was the Trusted One’s idea and he convinced them all and provided them with a single narrative.’

‘Did you question the monk in private?’ asked Idrisi.

‘Of course I did. He repeated the same rubbish. His family benefited from the Trusted One’s land distribution. He confessed to me he had never met a man like the Trusted One and wanted to convert to our faith, but the Trusted One had told him he was more helpful to the village as a monk. If he wanted to he could pray in the mosque, but when outsiders came he had to be a monk.’

Idrisi could not conceal his admiration. ‘He is inspired by Allah and the Great Satan at the same time. Where is he?’

‘Far from my estates, I hope. Here in Palermo you cannot imagine the effect this is having on the peasants. Many of them visit the village and return full of ideas.’

‘Did the Trusted One leave behind a plan if we are all defeated?’

‘Strange you should ask that, Ibn Muhammad. It did not occur to me, but one of the peasants, a well-read boy, volunteered the information. If our people are defeated, they will all swear that the Bishop had converted the entire village five years before he died. They have a church register to prove it and the monk and the handful of Nazarene families will attest to the truth of this assertion.’

‘This is incredible,’ said Elinore. ‘It makes me want to visit this place.’

‘Whenever you want,’ replied her uncle. ‘Perhaps after the child is born you should all come and spend some time in Siracusa. Elinore could come with us tonight?’

Nobody replied to the invitation and poor Aziz, slightly embarrassed, turned to his wife.

‘My sister, who you dislike so much, is praying you produce a girl. That way her son will inherit my estates.’

‘In that case,’ replied Balkis, ‘it will be a pleasure to disappoint her. And if we are leaving tonight I should go and make sure everything is packed.’

‘We’ll help,’ said Mayya and all three women headed towards the guest chambers.

‘The Sultan could die any day, Ibn Muhammad. He asked after you today.’

‘The sooner he goes the better. There will be a settling of accounts. I used to have many fond memories of him, but the treatment of Philip has changed everything. It made me angry with myself for being such a poor judge of people. Let us speak of more pleasant subjects.’

‘Let me raise an indelicate one.’

Idrisi smiled in anticipation.

‘I thank you for letting Balkis return. It was important for me, but you know this already.’

‘I do and if it embarrasses you we need discuss the subject no longer. I hope it is a boy for your sake. Have you considered taking another wife?’

‘There is no reason to do so. I have a serving woman in the palace who satisfies all my needs. With her there is no pretence. If Balkis gives me a boy I am content. And you?’

‘I will be content even if Balkis gives you a girl.’

The death of Rujari. Idrisi is a father again and twice. Dreaming of Siracusa.

ON A COLD FEBRUARY day in the year 1154 of the Christian calendar, the Sultan died in his palace in Palermo and Balkis gave birth to a son in Siracusa, though Idrisi and Mayya did not receive the message till the Amir of Siracusa arrived to attend the Sultan’s funeral, for the lighthouses had been too busy conveying the news of the Sultan’s death and the date fixed for the funeral to bother with other news. Receiving the information, notables of every variety and from all parts of the island began the journey to Palermo.

Idrisi walked to the palace and was received by William, attired in the costume of a Sultan with the royal cloak draped around his shoulders. He was a large, black-bearded man of frightening appearance. Having embraced Idrisi, he pleaded with him to become the Amir of Amirs and return to the palace. Idrisi thanked the ruler warmly, but declined the offer to replace Philip. He pleaded scholarly duties, explaining the need to complete the Formulary this year so as to help physicians save more lives. The new Sultan appeared to accept this and proceeded to inform him that the Barons were intent on disregarding Rujari’s testament. ‘They want to bury my father in the Cathedral in Palermo.’

‘He built a church especially in Cefalu to be his burial place. He loved the town and the church.’

‘And someone else too, Master Idrisi, as we both know.’

‘Nonetheless, it was his last request to me.’

‘And to me. And to my mother. But the Church and the Barons insist on Palermo. Philip was the only person on this island who could have buried him in Cefalu. So let them bury him in Palermo. There is another reason why he can’t be buried in Cefalu: Bishop Boso backed the wrong Pope and now Rome won’t consecrate his church. How can a King be buried in an unconsecrated church? I’ve promised Boso that once he makes friends with Rome he can have my father’s body as well and we can have two funerals for your friend. Did you ever meet his concubine in Cefalu? Come on, tell me. What was she like? Is it true she was with child and…’

William, swaying slightly, began to laugh. It was an unpleasant laugh and Idrisi, who had once attempted to teach this boy geography, astronomy and medicine, gave his former pupil a stern look. It was obvious he had been smoking too many pipes of shahdanj al-barr.

‘Sultan William,’ Idrisi began, but he could not continue. William had fallen off the chair and was seemingly asleep on the floor. His attendants lifted him from the ground. He recovered and dismissed the attendants, although Idrisi was only too well aware that they were being watched from secret spy-holes.

‘Master Idrisi, we shall see you at my father’s funeral.’

‘Have I the Sultan’s permission to use the library? There are manuals of medicine which are not available elsewhere on this island.’

‘Of course, and you did not need my permission. You organised that library before I was born. Use it as much as you wish. One question for you, Master Idrisi, and I wish you to be completely honest as you were with my father.’

‘I will try.’

‘How would you assess my late father as a ruler? Just in a few words, I mean.’

‘I would say that Sultan Rujari of Siqilliya was for most of his reign a wise and considerate ruler, who protected all his subjects regardless of creed. He governed his people with equity and impartiality, impressing all by the beauty of his actions, the depth of his insights and the sweetness of his character. I wrote some of this in the dedication of my book. We could add that he killed fewer people than his own father and uncle. When he was ruler and people reminded him of the massacre of Believers in this city, just before it surrendered to the Franks, he expressed remorse and regret. He was a skilled administrator and a statesman who could outflank the Pope and the Emperor. Above all, he defended the interest of his kingdom before all else and did not allow it to be weakened by adventures in the Holy Land. He was always friendly to scholars and helped me considerably to improve the quality of my own work. It was in his last days, racked by a disease that made it difficult for him to breathe and affected his heart, that he weakened in mind, body and spirit. He allowed the Barons and the Bishops to convince him that a blood sacrifice was necessary to strengthen his family’s claim to this island. And in his last months he committed a crime by burning one of the most talented leaders of this kingdom, Philip al-Mahdia. Thus began the decline.’