Talon was taken before Mukhwana that evening, and this time it was a very different meeting. The fat man with one eye greeted him as an old friend, and he was given polite greetings by the other men about the place. Talon could have sworn that not one of them had moved an inch from their positions since he was last there.
After he had been accorded and had given the lengthy courtesies that were part of the Egyptian custom, he was invited to be seated and again offered coffee, which he sipped politely. He liked the bitter taste of the strong black liquid.
“Well, my young teacher-warrior, your name is now on the lips of many in the streets of Cairo. Did you know?”
Talon looked at him in surprise.
“Oh yes, Suleiman. You see, the whole world knew of the grudge that existed between Bahir and your master. The chogan game has been talked about in fine detail since your master fell, and one thing has stood out. For those of the crowd who could see, it was clear that you saved what is left of his life. Apart from scoring some nice goals, that is.” Mukhwana grinned. “I lost money on your game. We thought your master would lose, because it is well known that Bahir, God damn him, had the better team. But there you were, scoring all over the place. I should be asking you for my money back.”
He shook with laughter, followed by his companions, who began to snicker.
Talon wondered if the large man meant it, but then Mukhwana wiped his one eye and said, “But you gave the whore’s son a beating, and that was good enough for me.”
“I am sorry you lost money, Mukhwana, perhaps I can get some back for you in time, Insha’Allah,” Talon said with an insincere grin. “But I am here to make a serious request of you, if you will hear me?”
“Speak, Suleiman…I think I shall call you the Hawk. They are dangerous and some even have green eyes.”
“I need to know if I can come to you for help.”
“You want help now?”
“No, but I might one day, as I fear for my lord and in particular for his lady and her children. I do not trust the eunuch who works there, or his men; and Abbas’s mother does not know me and will not listen to a simple slave.”
“What is worrying you, Suleiman? You do not look like someone who is afraid of anything.”
“Treachery I fear, but I do not know from where it will come, from within or from without. I am sure of this: my master is in very real danger. They did try to kill him on the field. I …I just sense that we, the whole family, are not out of danger, Mukhwana. I will pay for information from the street,” Talon added.
“Yes, you will pay me something for my help, but I like you, Suleiman, and will try to help you. Kontar will be part of the messenger route, but there will be another beggar or two, near to your gates from hence forth. You must pay them a coin once in a while when you leave the palace and pass along anything you need me to hear. I shall use them to pass you information if I hear anything.”
Talon thanked Mukhwana and left with his escort, who out of habit blindfolded him on the way out, as they had on the way in. Talon did not feel it necessary to tell them that he thought he knew the way by now.
* * * * *
That evening, he and Bilal talked about the situation as they sipped coffee and ate tiny sweet cakes brought by his woman.
“We have more than one enemy besides Bahir, Suleiman. Did you know that?”
“No, I did not know that, Bilal. Who are the others?” Talon responded.
“They are the people I talked about on the boat, my friend. They asked our master once to join them in an attempt to depose our sultan’s uncle, and he refused. I do not know the details but they, whomsoever they are, have excluded him ever since from their company. Abbas only serves the sultan,” Bilal said. He checked himself with emotion in his voice. “As only he could.”
“Do you know any names?” Talon asked.
“No, I do not, but they exist, and may Allah curse them for what they have done,” Bilal said.
“Have you sent a message to your brother, Malek?” Talon asked.
“Yes, and I have told him of what you did, Suleiman. I warned him to be on his guard, as we do not know where they will strike next.”
It was late when they parted to go to their beds, but Talon did not go to his that night.
He slipped out of the servants’ quarters, sped across the gardens and over the back wall into the darkness of the street. Having paused long enough to check that he was not being followed, he began to hurry along the dark, narrow, and now deserted streets of the city until he realized that he was hurrying and making noise. He slowed and continued in silence.
His intent was to find the house of Bahir and discover a way in. Mukhwana had given good instructions, but even so, it took an hour of walking and missing streets before he eventually arrived in view of the gates of that man’s palace.
Mukhwana had described the palace accurately enough. From the outside it looked similar to most of the rich palaces in the same area, with high walls and a view of the top floor and its shuttered windows; only this one had a high arched gate that distinguished it from the other more modest palaces. Although the walls were high, Talon decided he could climb them using the trees that were growing along the street. Their foliage also provided good cover to allow him to slip past any guards who might be above the walls, looking down.
He moved along some narrow alleys towards the back of the palace to where he supposed the stables would be, along with the servants’ quarters. Each step was now dangerous, because he did not know the layout and he could be discovered at any time. Rats scuttled out of the way as he slipped through the darkness.
The rear walls presented no real difficulty; the guards were conversing at another corner and inattentive. Soon he was in the shadows of the barn that housed the horses. The familiar smell of horses and the midden heap was strong in the still night air. He stared towards the main buildings across a wide space that looked like a neglected garden, where a thick profusion of stringy shrubs and small trees grew uncared for. Evidently Bahir was not enamored of the wonders of nature, he thought drily.
He listened to the horses as they munched their food or stamped about in their stalls. Some looked out across the wide path in front of their stables. Although he knew the horses were aware of him, as some turned their heads in his direction, none of them nickered or made any noise to indicate that they were disturbed by his presence.
Moving swiftly from shrub to tree, Talon traversed the wasted gardens and approached the buildings of the main house. His mind flickered to the last time he had done this kind of night raid with his brother Reza, long ago in Hamadan. It would be fatal to be caught; he could expect no mercy, rather a high profile execution and a very painful one at that. He concentrated.
He was dressed in dark clothing and had his face covered, only exposing his eyes; he wore no shoes and carried only his knife. He was invisible to the casual observer, and just as well, for he heard a sound ahead of him and promptly faded into a scrubby bush.
Two night guards passed so close he could have reached out and touched them, but the men were talking softly to one another and were not paying attention, and certainly had no idea there was an intruder so close by.
Talon moved on silently. He decided he must find a way to the second floor of the multi-storied building to the living apartments of Bahir, and the only way to do this was to climb a tree and get from there to the narrow balcony that ran the length of several windows, and then into the building. At least the windows over the gardens did not have the fretwork boxing that the ones over the street had.
Talon took great care not to rustle leaves as he climbed the tree and gained access to the balcony. He glanced back. From here he had a good view of the unkempt gardens and of the stables. He also noted how many sentries patrolled the area.
Near to him some shuttered windows had the glow of lamps from within. One attracted his attention as he heard the tinkle of feminine laughter and the sound of people talking loudl
y from inside.
On his stomach he moved along the wooden floor, keeping his head well out of sight of any casual observer from below, until he came to the shuttered window. He lay there listening for a while, trying to make out the words of the conversation. It was difficult as there were several voices speaking at the same time. Lifting his head he put his eye to a chink in the shutters. It was clear from that short review that Bahir was not among the people in the room. He slithered along the entire balcony on his belly, checking each of the lit windows, but none of these rooms held the man he sought. He lay back against the wall to think.
To gain access to the rest of the house was a simple matter. He eased the shutter of one of the dark windows open enough to slip into the room. Every muscle tense, he crouched below the window sill and listened once again.
He spent the next half hour exploring the house, moving like a wraith, noting the men who were guarding certain rooms and the pattern of activity in the kitchens, even at this late hour. His eye fell on two men standing outside a heavy wooden door, they were clearly on guard. They appeared to be very alert. Then they were joined by a huge, well-muscled man with a diminutive servant behind him holding a tray of food. They snapped to attention, spears at the ready.
The door was opened and the big man pushed the servant inside. Talon decided that this room had to be his objective and he cast about for another entrance. He slipped along a corridor that seemed to run parallel with the room itself and discovered a deep recess in the wall. It was well out of the way and if he had not been so eager to find places to hide, he might well have passed it by. It was more of an alcove with a door. He gingerly tried it, and it opened. The space beyond continued into a short arched anteroom with a heavy curtain about eight feet beyond.
Praying that he would not be discovered in this trap, Talon cautiously moved towards the curtain, and paused. He heard voices and listened. The curtain was not fully pulled against the wall, so without disturbing it he could peer through the gap. He saw three men in the room. The light was dim and there were only a few oil lamps. These were placed in front of the men who were seated comfortably on cushions only twenty feet from him.
He took note of their shadowy shapes and tried to study their features which the poor light of the lamps did not reveal clearly. It was not hard to recognize Bahir, but Talon had never seen the other two before. The man who had his back to Talon was lean and strong. His loose clothing did not hide his strong physique, thick neck and broad shoulders. On his head he wore the loose turban that soldiers wore when not on duty.
The other one was a plump looking fellow dressed in fine silks that glistened in the lamplight as he moved. He sported a straggly beard and wore a huge turban. At one time one of the others addressed him as ‘Poet.’ Talon resolved to remember the title and the face.
Bahir himself was dressed in rich, elegant robes and a large turban. The light flashed off the many rings on his fingers. Talon was disappointed. He had hoped to approach Bahir alone. But with the other two so near, and sentries outside, he knew he could not possibly kill Bahir and get away with it.
The men were eating with their fingers from a silver tray and drinking from silver goblets. He recognized the smell of baked chicken and boiled cabbage. He could also smell the distinct odor of palm wine. As the men were deep in conversation and oblivious of his presence, he took a good look around the room. Talon paid great attention to the furnishing of the room and its layout, while listening for any clues from what the men were saying. He heard the name of the sultan’s brother mentioned. The speaker had a strong voice, enough that Talon caught bits. “Tariq is leaving within a week for Yemen; it will be time…”
The same man continued but lowered his voice, making it harder for Talon to distinguish the words. “The officers and men are ready for my command…Abbas….”
Talon was instantly alert, but although he strained his ears, he could not hear more. At this point the man with his back to Talon shifted around, and Talon caught his profile. He determined to remember the face, as this man seemed to be the leader.
He wished he could get closer because they talked in low tones, but it would have been fatal to try. There was one other snippet of the conversation which intrigued him. Bahir was talking this time, but once again he was speaking almost in whispers and Talon had to strain his ears to catch the words, “…you are a man of letters, so you would be able to get close to Bakir, Abdul-Jalil. He must be...”
The words seemed to be addressed to the richly dressed plump man seated next to Bahir. At least Talon could see him clearly. He spent a half hour watching and straining to hear their conversation. His instincts told him it was time to leave, but then Bahir clapped his hands and a servant appeared like a djinn from the entrance to the other doorway, bowing very low and asking in a soft voice what his master wished.
“Bring me the women, Ali; it is time to entertain my guests.” Bahir had raised his voice to issue the command. The servant vanished and Talon was about to leave the way he had come in when he heard voices outside of his hiding place. He heaved himself up onto a narrow ledge as three women tripped into the darkened anteroom. The servant was herding them along with a scolding voice.
“Hurry, you stupid whores, the master is impatient and wants to show you off to his guests. Make sure that you dance well, or you shall be whipped. Stop giggling, and watch your step. Do not speak. They don’t want to hear you. They only want to see you.”
Talon felt movement of the air as the girls went past, now silent. He caught the scent of cheap musk and oil, followed by old onion on the breath of the servant. He could not see far from his hiding place, but as the curtain was drawn, he glimpsed the three half-naked women. They were young, with nubile bodies that had been oiled under the diaphanous veils they wore with little else for covering.
* * * * *
Much later, while it was still dark, he slipped over the peripheral wall into the area of the dung heap for the horses of Abbas’s palace and went to his own room. He began to crawl into bed just as the cock crowed, heralding the dawn, even though it was still dark.
His night, however, was not over, as he found someone in his bed. It was Lamya. She awoke and sleepily muttered something into his ear. His tiredness evaporated. He was seeking release from the tension of the day and welcomed the girl into his arms. She was eager for his love and responded to his caresses with tiny moans and sighs. Lamya had a firm young body that was very quick to awaken. It was not long before they took from one another what they needed that night. Exhausted and spent by the time dawn began to light the room, Lamya left him, disappearing silently back to the room she shared with the other maids.
Always be humble and don’t go around
With men who are puffed up with pride and their power;
Look at the hyssop which hangs from a wall
And holds in the wind that topples a cedar.
— Avraham ibn Hasdai
Chapter 15
A Story in the Garden
Talon arrived at the entrance to the main building where he met his students every morning ready for the day’s classes. He was very tired but determined not to show it.
Jasmine and Kazim had their maids in attendance, and together they walked off to the garden, to the place that Talon had chosen. It was a quiet location near a small fountain where water bubbled out of the ground into a low wide earthenware pot and then trickled over its edges into a wider but shallow pond. Water lilies spread on the surface and small clumps of young papyrus grew out of the water at the edge. A few golden carp drifted about the depths of the dark water, their red and metallic scales sometimes glittering as the sunlight reflected. Dragonflies swooped in and out of the reeds, just touching the surface of the water and then darting away again.
Occasionally, a slim black cat that Jasmine had named Sultan would keep them company. He would sit at the edge of the pond watching the fish, and once in a while would tentatively dip his paw into the surface of the
water, as though to find out whether he could catch one.
The shade of the sycamore overhead softened the fierce sunlight and today they were blessed with a cool breeze that found its way, like caressing fingers, into the garden, rustling the dry leaves of the bushes and the palm fronds above.
It was hard for Talon to concentrate. He kept yawning, and the children, ever sensitive to the mood of their adults, reacted by quarreling.
At one point Jasmine turned to Suleiman and asked, “Suleiman, why cannot women sit at meals with their husband?”
“Because they are women and silly; and girls are especially,” Kazim said contemptuously, smirking at his sister, who poked her tongue out at him.
With an effort of concentration, Talon thought about it. He could see that she was in earnest, and it demanded a serious answer.
It was clear that while he had not been paying attention, the two of them had been squabbling.
“Kazim, please mind your manners, a Lord must always be polite…especially to his family,” Talon admonished him for the hundredth time.
He turned to Jasmine, who was glaring at her brother, her eyes narrowed with anger.
“Your father ate often with your mother while we were at Fayoum, and their conversations went on for many hours from what I can tell. This I know, because Malek talked about how much respect and love your father has for your mother.”
Kazim replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I shall be a warrior and ride beautiful horses like Rakhsh into war. I shall have no time for women or for wives.”
Jasmine glowered at him in silence, but then her gaze went down the pathway which led back to the house.
“Mamma!” She called and leapt to her feet to rush to embrace her stepmother. Talon jumped to his feet and bowed low to Khalidah who approached them, her hand touching the petal of a flower as she passed. She seemed to enjoy the scent of a rose as she bent to it. Tamir, the ancient, wizened chief gardener, was hovering nearby, his bald head bobbing on his skinny wrinkled neck as he nodded his agreement with her wishes. Khalidah was accompanied by a maid servant, also veiled, who kept a few paces behind.
Assassination in Al Qahira Page 22
