Tariq Ali - A Sultan in Palermo

‘I cannot repeat all of that, but I thank you. Men like you are rare in this kingdom. I wish you would stay by my side.’

‘There are others more skilled in the art of administration than I and they will serve you better. My advice is very simple: beware the Barons. Your grandmother had to flee the mainland to Palermo when your father was very young. She felt safer here because of my people. They were a counterbalance to the Barons. So be careful of them. They tend to strike when a king is young. And never see them in private without a hand on your sword and armed retainers at your side. May Allah protect you, Ibn Rujari.’

‘Just one other matter. It is of no great significance, indeed it is only curiosity. During Philip’s trial when a lot of lies were being told, there were two loud farts from the benches occupied by your people. I tried to join their choir, but failed. Was it the work of the Amir of Catania or Siracusa?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘It was a very good effort. If you find out, kindly congratulate the Amir on my behalf. I have decided to build a new palace in the style of your Sultans and with the largest harem in the world. Larger than Baghdad and Qurtuba and I will fill it as well. If you ever need a woman…’

He began to laugh again.

Idrisi found talk of this nature wearisome. Without replying, he bowed and left the audience chamber. As he walked slowly through the palace, he knew he did not wish to return here again. The eunuchs gave him nervous smiles of recognition. None of them appeared to be greatly affected by Rujari’s death. Philip had belonged to them and, in this very palace, the older eunuchs had watched him grow and prosper.

Idrisi entered the library. Perhaps William would prove his detractors wrong and better his father, but even as the thought passed through his mind he knew it was without substance. William might be stronger than they gave him credit for, but he was not an administrator or a statesman. He was too strongly addicted to pleasure. He would become too dependent on advisers who would kill each other to be near him.

Idrisi did not stay long in the library. He picked up the two books he needed to consult and decided to take them home, looking forward to getting back to his new son, now six weeks old and sturdy in voice and appetite.

As he climbed the path to his house he heard the strains of Ibn Thawdor’s flute and saw his daughter sitting on a wall next to the boy and watching him with entranced eyes. He smiled inwardly and did not disturb them. He was pleased she had found a friend in the musician. Elinore had been more upset by Rujari’s death than he had realised and had asked to accompany Idrisi to the funeral. Nor was he sure what she really felt about her new brother. He must remember to ask Mayya. The arrival of little Afdal had removed the last traces of the tension between them and he would often hear her singing lullabies he had never heard before. She had actually laughed one morning as she wondering if Balkis would have a boy and whether it would be identical to her own.

The Amir of Siracusa arrived a day before the funeral. He had come alone and was staying at the palace. Given the unsettled conditions on the island, it was useful for it to be known that he was a guest of the Sultan. The joyful look on his face was enough to convey the good news: Balkis, too, had given birth to a son and both were well. He handed Idrisi a small parcel, which was handed to a retainer and despatched to his room.

‘Any news of the Trusted One?’

‘He has been seen in a number of villages. He is very close to your family and they tell me he is on your son-in-law’s estates at the moment. Our people are ready to fight. Catania, Noto and Siracusa will not be taken without a struggle.’

‘I do not think that William has any intention of waging war on us.’

‘One year ago, did his father have any intention of burning Philip outside his own palace?’

‘All I am saying is that a premature rebellion could lead to defeat. Timing is always crucial.’

‘Then we are in agreement.’

When Elinore entered the room to greet her uncle, Idrisi noticed her flushed cheeks and shining eyes. The flute-player is affecting this child, he thought, and it pleased him. Mayya arrived with Afdal in her arms and the Amir made all the right noises, but did his mind’s eye compare the two infants? At the end of his visit, the proud possessor of a new son invited them all to visit him in Siracusa.

‘It will be spring soon and the best time to visit us. Balkis is desperate to see you.’

‘We will try,’ said Mayya, ‘but it’s such a long journey and the mere thought tires me.’

Idrisi retreated to his library to find the parcel from Balkis. He undid the string and unwrapped the cloth. Inside lay a carefully folded tunic made of pure silk, the colour of burnt milk. On top of it was a letter. Elinore knocked on the door and entered without waiting for his reply. ‘I need to ask you something, Abi.’

‘Let me guess. You want to learn the flute.’

She coloured slightly. ‘I would like to marry him.’

‘Has he expressed interest?’

‘No, because he is in awe of you and thinks he is too low-born for you to even consider such a match.’

‘Have you spoken to your mother?’

‘Yes and she is not happy.’

‘Why?’

‘She thinks he is low-born.’

‘Are you sure you know him well enough to marry him?’

‘Yes. You once told me that affairs of the heart are determined by instinct, not reason. My instinct tells me that I will be happy with him.’

‘That is all that matters to me, child. I have no objection. I like the boy myself, but how will he earn a living? Musicians are not paid regularly.’

‘He doesn’t only play the flute. He makes them and can teach children to play. He wants us to move to Djirdjent where his mother’s family will help him.’

‘I will help him if he wants to stay here and your uncle in Siracusa is a generous soul if he wishes to move there. And you? Where would you like to live.’

‘I’m not sure. There is a part of me which would like to leave this island for ever and move to Salerno.’

‘Why?’

‘Instinct. Something bad is going to happen here. Can’t you feel it in the air?’

‘Elinore, you are baptised and so is Simeon ibn Thawdor. You need not fear the Barons. No harm will come to you. But I am more worried about your two brothers. Will they survive? For how long? When some of my friends left Palermo and went to settle in al-Andalus, I mocked them for their foolishness. I was so sure I had made the right decision.’

He shrugged his shoulders in despair.

Elinore kissed him on his head. ‘Even though we have not yet discussed Pythagoras and his numbers which you promised me, I love you.’

‘The numbers were important for the merchants and sailors. But much more interesting was the way of life that he advocated. Perhaps you should go and live in Cariati, much closer to us than Salerno. The Pythagoreans fled here to Kroton, as they called it then, and their brotherhood flourished. Some of them came to Siracusa as well. The symbol of their brotherhood was the ox on the tongue. Each new recruit was pledged to secrecy and silence. In order to achieve their aims of creating a society in which each and every person had a moral responsibility, they had to be careful. And did you know they also believed that the only way to purify the soul from the infections of the body was through music? That is why Pythagoras and his followers were the first to explore the links between music and mathematics. And you will find books that can teach you even more than I know. He is not a philosopher I have studied closely. Is that your mother I hear shouting for you? Tell her I approve of Ibn Thawdor and she should not worry about your dowry.’