A Sultan in Palermo (21 page)

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 ...’

I
DRISI 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.’

‘This is the Lady Balkis, who is my wife’s sister and whose husband, the Amir of Siracusa, will probably join us here tomorrow.’

Ibn Fityan was impressed by this news. It answered all his questions.

‘The
hammam
has also been prepared.’

The women had already bathed once that day and declined the offer. They asked for an infusion of fresh mint leaves and were escorted to the terrace. Mayya wondered whether she should accompany Muhammad and talk to him while he was bathed, but thought it might be too soon.

Idrisi’s intention was to have a bath without being disturbed and meditate on the thorny problem that had been preoccupying him ever since they had left the palace: Balkis or Mayya? It might be his only chance to lie in Balkis’s arms before her husband arrived and they departed for Siracusa. What if Mayya insisted, as was only natural, that they should spend the first night here together and make up for lost time? It would be inhuman to resist such a plea. Balkis, who loved her sister, would understand. He had made up his mind, but doubts persisted quite simply because his heart was pushing him in the wrong direction. Left to himself with no other considerations, he would have rushed to Balkis. He knew he might live to regret it and yet, if Allah was kind and gave him ten more years, it was futile to live them in a sea of unhappiness.

As he left the
hammam,
refreshed and ready to face his new life, he had decided in favour of Mayya. He would allow nothing to deter him from this path. Ibn Fityan had laid the table in the dining room that was rarely used. The rectangular table could easily seat twenty-five people, but he had prepared just one end of it for Idrisi and the ladies. As they walked in he looked admiringly at the different colours worn by Mayya and Elinore, but it was Balkis who took his breath away. She wore a high priestess off-white robe and had lifted her hair back with a silver clasp.

The welcoming feast was pronounced a success and the sweet homemade lemon liquor, which Idrisi insisted was a much more effective digestive than a similar concoction made from aniseed, was highly praised.

‘Mayya told me you were a master of medicine as well,’ Balkis said in a slightly indifferent tone, ‘but I had no idea you prepared medicinal mixtures.’

‘I do and I even have one which helps get rid of unwanted pregnancies, which is much in demand on Lombard estates. They rape our women who are too ashamed to tell their brothers, fathers or husbands. They go to the local medicine man and plead for the herb that will purge their system. It works. You will not find the prescription in al-Kindi’s
Aqrabadhin.
When I was in Cairo I introduced it to the physicians at the al-Nasiri
maristan.
They were pressing me to write a book on compounded drugs and herbs that could help common ailments. If I have time I might yet write such a work.’

Balkis glared at him and Elinore, thinking her father was being somewhat insensitive to her aunt’s lack of children, decided to change the subject.

‘This lemon drink we all loved tonight. You distilled it yourself?’

‘I used to, but the Sultan liked it so much that I was forced to part with the formula and from the palace it has spread to the monasteries and estates. My own supplies now come from the palace. I’m really surprised you have never tasted it before. I would have thought the eunuchs would have made sure the harem was regularly supplied.’

For some reason this made Balkis laugh. ‘You speak as if this was the only drink available in the palace. And what if the eunuchs hated it?’

Mayya, aware of the slight tension between Balkis and Idrisi, wondered what, if anything, had taken place in Siracusa. She followed her daughter’s lead in making sure he was confined to a safe subject.

‘Muhammad, I was trying to remember that friend of yours who you talked about endlessly some years ago. The man who distilled what you said was the most beautiful elixir you had ever tasted. I could not recall his name or where he lived or even the name of the drink.’

Idrisi laughed. ‘Muammar ibn Zafar! He died two years ago and his foolish son sold the fruit orchards to a merchant from Shakka. You would all have liked him. He was one of the most gifted cooks whose food I have had the pleasure to taste. But the elixir was something very special. He used to call it the Heavenly Nectar. Once when I was staying with him to ask his advice on cures for constipation, which was common amongst sailors, he devised a suppository with the most effective mixture. It was October and a great deal of fruit was lying on the ground. Oranges, lemons, peaches, apricots, tangerines and others I cannot recall. His men were ordered to collect these from the ground. The undamaged fruit was washed and placed in a large perpendicular earthenware pot, almost as tall as Balkis. No, a bit taller. To these fruits he added saffron, black pepper, crushed ginger, and peeled clusters of garlic. Then the pot was sealed with a flour paste and left outdoors till the following April. I was present one year when the seal was broken. The most delicious aroma greeted us. Muammar stood on a ladder and stirred the pot till it was properly mixed. I tasted it before and after it was distilled. Completely different each time but equally unforgettable. Al-kohl. Pure. Heaven. I would consider myself lucky if I tasted a drink like that again before I die.’

Elinore clapped her hands. ‘But surely we can try to make it ourselves. Can’t we try? Just a small amount?’

‘Certainly, child. You can try, but don’t be disappointed if you fail. There are some things in this world that are best tasted once.’

‘But I haven’t tasted it, Abu.’

After the table was cleared, the retainers were dismissed for the night. The four of them looked at each other in the candlelight. Elinore and her mother exchanged glances before the young woman addressed her father.

‘Abu?’

‘Elinore bint Muhammad?’

‘I know this is a difficult request, but as you know, the move to your house from the palace was sudden, perhaps too sudden and we were emotionally unprepared ...’

‘I cannot imagine your mother being emotionally unprepared for anything.’

‘It’s me more than her. I’m really happy to be here, but you must understand it will take some time for me to adjust to the change.’

‘I understand that, child, and will do all I can to make it easy for you. Allah be thanked, I have finished my book. The Sultan has gifted me a small vessel and unless he revokes the order, which is unlikely as he is not a small-minded ruler, then we can travel together.’

The delight on Elinore’s face was visible. But she now broached another matter.

‘I would love to travel. I had never set foot outside Palermo till we visited Siracusa a few months ago. But Abi I want to ask ... if I can sleep next to Ummi tonight? Just tonight because I’m feeling unsettled.’

That Idrisi managed to frown at this request was a tribute to his ingenuity—or so he told himself. ‘Elinore, I grant your request—but do not repeat it too often. And now I wish to speak with your mother alone for a while, if that meets with your approval?’

She embraced her father before leaving the room, accompanied by Balkis who had barely spoken the whole evening and appeared engrossed in her own thoughts. She had avoided his gaze and restricting her talk to trivial questions about Palermo. Was she doing it simply to annoy him? It did not occur to him, that unlike her sister, she might not be feeling too happy.

Alone with Mayya in his chamber, they embraced warmly. Then she looked carefully around the room and at his bed.

‘It was generous of you to let Elinore sleep in my bed tonight. She is uneasy, which is not surprising. Everything has happened far too quickly for her. I think she is torn about the move. A part of her wished to stay in the palace till Rujari’s death. She is very fond of him, you know.’

‘And he of her, but this Sultan is already dead as far as I’m concerned.’

‘With Philip out of favour and Rujari dead, will the treasury continue to pay you?’

‘The mother of my children lives on the estate in Noto, but I have another that I have not visited for many years. It came to me after my brother died without an heir. We could sell that to the Church or to a Baron. It is a large estate. Or I could leave it to you and Elinore. I have barely spent any money for the last ten years. This house and the retainers are paid for by the treasury and a few years ago the house was legally registered in my name for services to the state. Life will not be as luxurious as you are used to, but we will not starve.’

With that, he turned the conversation. ‘I had a strange dream in Siracusa.’

She feigned ignorance as he told the story of the ageless high priestess who had left behind unmistakable scents.

‘Surely you were mistaken. Your own body, as we know, leaves many a trace without the presence of anyone else.’

‘Mayya, deceitful woman, how long are you going to maintain your story?’

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘You found out?’

‘How could one not? The drug was effective, but it did not obliterate my memory.’