Even under the veil that only covered the lower part of her face, he could see how tired she was. Her huge eyes had dark circles under them and there was a pinched look between her eyebrows that he had not seen before. She greeted each of the children with a gentle embrace before turning to Talon.
He received that direct gaze from Khalidah that, despite his self control, made his blood move faster in his veins.
“Master Suleiman, I greet you. How are the children doing with their lessons? I have not joined you for some time; forgive my negligence.”
Talon smiled politely. “Salaam, my Lady, may Allah preserve your health. You have had much else on your mind of late, but your children are doing well. We were discussing manners and how we should behave towards our family.”
“Ah, I see…Kazim, does that mean that you were being reprimanded?” she asked with a twitch of a smile in her eyes, pretending to sound stern.
Kazim had the grace to look embarrassed; he looked down and nodded reluctantly. Khalidah smiled.
“Your tutor Suleiman can teach you much, my son; listen to him carefully. One thing you should know is that the sign of a great warrior is not only his fierceness in battle, but his kindness towards his family and servants. Your father is one such person, and therefore he has the loyalty of his men, who would die for him.”
Kazim looked up at his mother with adoring eyes. “I shall, Mother.” He glanced at his sister and at Talon from under his dark brows to see what their reaction might be. Talon pretended to look stern but had difficulty hiding his grin and had to look away.
“Suleiman, I have come not just to see my children but also in the hope that you would distract us with a story…perhaps one of those fables you know from Persia?” Khalidah asked politely, but to his ears it sounded more like a plea.
He bowed again. “I shall be happy to, my Lady.”
The mood changed immediately. Jasmine clapped her hands and Kazim laughed with delight. They were going to be excused the arithmetic because their mother in her infinite power had persuaded the stern Suleiman with but a word to tell a story. Despite their pleas in past times he had been adamant about their lessons, only telling stories when he felt they had deserved it. While waiting for Khalidah to settle on a cushion and the children to sit close to her in the shade, he thought about what story to tell.
“Today I shall tell you the story of King Solomon and the Queen of Yemen, whose name was Balkis.”
He waited until the fidgeting stopped and his audience was listening with attention. Even Khalidah seemed for the moment to have put her cares on hold and waited with anticipation on her face.
“There was once a king called Solomon, who, as everyone knows, spoke the language of of all creatures, including birds.
“He traveled about his kingdom on a magic carpet, and one day he flew over an ants’ nest and heard the ants complaining about the number of flying carpets and humans in the area and telling the other ants to get underground and out of the way. Solomon guided his carpet down in such a way as not to disturb the ants. He was hungry and thirsty and needed water. He always travelled with the king of the hoopoes, for he was very good at finding water.”
“You always bring the hoopoes into the stories, Suleiman,” protested Kazim, who preferred a story about battles.
“Kazim, do not interfere with the story teller while he is in the middle. Behave yourself or you can leave,” Khalidah said sharply. Kazim subsided and Jasmine smirked at him, upon which he poked his tongue out at her.
After a brief pause Talon continued. “As I was about to say, the king of the hoopoes is there with King Solomon because he is very clever at finding water and cool places to rest.
“The king of the hoopoes set off in a hurry to look and see what he could do for Solomon, and in the process discovered some beautiful gardens. While investigating them he met up with another hoopoe, a female, who told him the gardens belonged to Queen Balkis of the country of Yemen, which, as you have probably surmised, was a very long way from the king’s palace. This female hoopoe persuaded the visiting hoopoe to tarry, but while he was enjoying his time in the gardens, King Solomon was becoming impatient and tired of waiting. He asked his eagle to go and find the hoopoe and bring him back with water, as he was thirsty. He was becoming upset at being left in the desert along with a bunch of grumbling ants for company.”
Talon waved his arm to the sky and continued.
“The eagle soared up into the sky and finally, after flying for a while, with his long sight he noticed far away the king of the hoopoes flying back. He tried to catch the bird in his talons but the clever bird evaded him and managed to land next to King Solomon, to whom he displayed great homage.
“This mollified the king somewhat, and he asked the hoopoe where he had been. The hoopoe told him about the beautiful gardens and the luxurious palace of the Queen. He also slyly told the king of her lovely bed of silver, the frame of which was encrusted with jewels and gold, and whispered that her people were unbelievers who worshipped the sun and the moon.
“The king’s curiosity was piqued so he decided to send a letter to the Queen via the king of the hoopoes, who took it all the way back to Yemen, tightly held in its beak. This was done, and the resident lady hoopoe advised him that the best thing he could do to attract the Queen’s attention was to deliver the letter to her bedroom window, and by the same token see for himself how beautiful she was.
“He did this and delivered King Solomon’s letter. The Queen was curious about King Solomon, so she sent in return some curious gifts to test him. She sent the hoopoe to fly back with her message of good will and promises of gifts; those she dispatched by road.
“She promised to send some pierced and un-pierced precious stones in a casket and asked him to thread them all, without opening the boxes and without the aid of man or Djinn.
“She also decided to send four bricks of gold to show him how rich she was.
“Solomon received the messages of good will and the promises of gifts with interest, and then he issued orders.
“He told the Djinn to construct a long road of gold bricks all the way up to his palace, leaving space for only four bricks near his throne.
“The envoys from Queen Balkis of Yemen arrived and observed the road of gold with dismay and then fitted their four bricks into the space left for them.”
“He must have been unbelievably rich!” exclaimed Kazim.
“It is my understanding that he was,” Talon replied.
“Let him continue with the story,” said Jasmine impatiently.
“Ah yes…well, the gifts were delivered to him. Solomon knew what was in the caskets, since he had been told to thread the jewels without the aid of man or Djinn, so he asked a worm to enter the caskets and bore holes through the remaining jewels, which it did. For its help, it was rewarded with the privilege of being forever able to live in trees, because the king gave him eternal rights to do so.
“Then the cunning king asked the humble maggot to go into the caskets and thread all the jewels, which it did; and upon being asked what it wanted for its reward, it said it wanted the right to live in fruit—which it has been doing ever since.”
“Ugh!”
“Be quiet, my Kazim, I do not think Suleiman is finished yet,” Khalidah gently admonished her son.
Talon had to suppress a grin.
“He ordered all the presents to be sent back to the Queen and told her to stop worshipping the moon and to convert her people, or he would slay them. However, when he arrived to enforce this ruling, he saw how beautiful she was, fell in love with her and married her, although he did insist upon the conversion of everyone in Yemen. She, clever woman that she was, managed to keep all the jewels and the gold. Peace be upon them.”
Khalidah and Jasmine clapped happily, as did Kazim, but he was disappointed. “I was hoping there would be a battle or a hero, Suleiman,” he said, pouting.
“Kazimi, my dearest,” Khalidah said, “Suleiman wa
s telling the story for the benefit of us all, and I thank you, Suleiman, for the telling of it.” He had not seen her smile for a long time, but now she did, and some of her cares seemed to have left her brow—for the moment at least.
Talon bowed low as she rose and left with the children in tow.
Later that day, he practiced with his sword for over an hour till his arms ached and he was drenched in sweat. Bilal came by and challenged him playfully to sword practice and they sparred for another half hour, whereupon Bilal, who was himself now puffing and sweating, called a truce.
“I am still sore from the game, Suleiman. You do not seem to be sore at all,” he complained with good humor.
“I am a little tired, Bilal, but I think I agree with you about our enemies. There are more people than Bahir who are involved. Do you know a man…?” he tried to describe the two men he had seen with Bahir without letting Bilal know where he had seen them. Bilal could not identify them.
Later that day a messenger arrived from the estate with a letter from Malek for Bilal and one for the lady Khalidah. After his failed attempt to deliver the letter directly to lady Khalidah that the eunuch intercepted, Bilal came back to Talon, shaking his head, and said, “I should have delivered the letter to my Lady, but I could not get past that scab and his cronies. They are becoming insufferable. One of these days.…” He didn’t finish the thought but his expression told Talon what he was thinking.
He opened the letter from Malek and read it to Talon.
“My brother sends his greetings and those of Khaldun and says that all is well at the Estate. Al Fayoum and the crops are doing well.” He glanced up with a grin. “Max is improving well with his wound and is now able to practice swords with him and ride, although he still tires easily and must rest in the afternoons.
“I wonder if he has a servant girl to come and massage his aches,” Bilal asked rhetorically with a wicked grin.
Talon let out his breath. Max was regaining his health; that was good news. He grinned back at Bilal. “And what if he is?”
Bilal snickered and continued in a more serious tone. “Malek also says that they have had no trouble from the quarter we mention, but there is great distress at what has happened. He wants to know if he should send more men.”
“Do we not have half of Abbas’s division here in Cairo with us now?” Talon asked.
“Indeed we do, Suleiman, and I am sure we could have more men if we should ask for them, but there is little enough room as it is, and they really belong to the sultan, may Allah preserve his soul, so we must be circumspect as to how many soldiers we ask for.”
“Why do you say that, Bilal? Would the sultan, Allah protect him, not grant us enough to fill this compound should we need them? Is not Abbas one of his most favored officers…and especially now?”
Bilal looked up from the letter, his face serious. “I should think so, but have you not heard? The sultan intends to take an army and harass the Bedouin in the Negev because they are helping the Frans against us, Allah damn them. His brother has taken a large part of the army south with him to Yemen, which leaves him dependent upon those who are left, and that includes the division that Abbas commands.”
Talon was taken aback. Pieces of the puzzle were moving into place, but he could not quite fathom the pattern as yet.
“When does he intend to leave?” he asked.
“The officer who came to talk to me yesterday mentioned that the men were preparing for a move in less than two weeks,” Bilal quickly replied.
“Then we have to have the master back here before then. Although I do not believe he is safe anywhere, it will be better here than in a deserted palace of the Sultan,” Talon declared.
Bilal nodded. “We should visit the master soon, in any case. Perhaps we can also have audience with the sultan, and ask for Abbas’s transfer.”
They were interrupted by a servant, who announced to Bilal that they had a visitor. Lady Emushire requested his presence as an honorary guard while they entertained this male visitor.
Bilal glanced at Talon. “We have had a procession of visitors today; yet another one has come to commiserate with the lady of the house. I must hurry and look smart.”
He hurried off, leaving Talon curious. He wandered towards the main building, making sure he did not run into Chisisi or his henchmen along the way. He was accosted by Lamya instead. She gave him a sultry look as she approached and kissed him in the cover of a pomegranate bush. He walked with her until she glimpsed Donkor, Chisisi’s henchman, in the distance and made a face of disappointment.
“I must go. Suleiman, we must meet again…will you sit with me one evening and tell me the stories you tell the family?” she asked coyly before slipping off into the servants’ quarters.
He grinned. “I will be happy to,” he called after her.
He could see the visiting retinue as he came in sight of the gate. It was a strong guard of mounted men in rich livery of blue linen shirts, the sleeves edged with gold under their polished bronze plated jerkins. They now squatted in the shade of the walls while their good-looking horses were being watered by several of the syce.
“This must be an important visitor,” he thought. But he did not see any other activity and did not want to incur the wrath, justified or otherwise, from the strident Chisisi, so he drifted off.
Later, when he and Bilal were alone again eating snacks and drinking tea, their duties for the day completed, they talked.
“Who was the grand visitor today?” Talon asked.
“A great nobleman of ancient family who came to pay his respects to our Lady Emushire and Lady Khalidah. He is famous for his fighting skills and is an important man in the army.”
“But what is his name?” Talon persisted.
“I forgot to mention it… Kemosiri bin Jibade. He has been a friend of our master for years. They have fought in many of the same battles alongside the sultan. He actually wept in front of everyone assembled today. He offered to protect our lady from our master’s many enemies until he is fully recovered. May Allah protect him and bless him for standing by our side in our hour of need,” Bilal intoned with respect.
But then he switched stride and pointed at Talon, saying with a sly grin, “You know that Lamya likes you?”
Talon concentrated on his honey cake. “Bilal, I am a slave here, and it would be more than my life was worth to go after even another servant. That would really give Chisisi an excuse to punish me.”
“Not in my eyes, you are not. I am sure that would not deter you if you were in earnest,” Bilal remarked with a leer. “Do you not like her? Is she not very pretty?”
“She is very pretty, indeed,” Talon agreed, rubbing his shoulder, “but is it not forbidden?”
“Only if you are caught, and I am on your side in any case. So even if they did catch you at it, with my intervention, should it be timely enough, they might only cut it off.” Bilal roared with laughter at his own wit.
Their glory begins to fade the moment
Their leader is stricken, and soon it is gone;
But they will fight again before long-
For the dead on this field are always reborn.
— Avraham Ibn Ezra
Chapter 16
Return
Two weeks later, Emir Abbas Abdul Azim Ubn Athir Faysal was brought back to his house. The palanquin that carried him was supported by four brawny Nubian slaves and was heavily protected by men of his own personal bodyguard. The sultan had granted permission for Bilal to have extra men, not only to guard Abbas on return, but also to remain on duty at his home.
“I think the sultan’s preoccupation is now with the forthcoming expedition to the Negev and it seems to me that our master is no longer on the list of the sultan’s priorities.” Bilal grumbled to Talon as they made their way to the palace to accompany Abbas on his way back home.
Panhsj looked exhausted but pleased to see them. “He is awake, but you will not like what you see,” he warned them.
Abbas was conscious and they found him lying flat and secured with fine padded cotton straps on the hard bed that was placed carefully on the palanquin. The physician Yazan Abdul-Hayy, a man well known for his skill in medicine, had argued against moving him at all. He fussed about in his silk robes, waving his slim, dark fingers in the air like some agitated praying mantis whenever he thought the servants carrying Abbas were being in the slightest bit clumsy. He berated them in his high-pitched voice, clearly frightened of increasing the damage to his patient as they jostled the injured man down the steps. He asked them to stop for a moment to give the patient a little respite.
Bilal approached Abbas and knelt in front of the platform. Abbas weakly held out his hand and whispered something to him that Talon did not catch. Talon realized that Abbas was paralyzed from the waist down and thus would never be able to move of his own accord again.
Bilal nodded, stood up and waved Talon over.
Abbas was gaunt, his eyes sunken in his dark features, but his will still burned in his eyes. He moved just a little and winced. Talon knelt in front of him and came closer to better hear his voice.
“Ah, there you are, Suleiman,” Abbas whispered.
“My lord?”
“Panhsj told me that you saved my life,” Abbas croaked.
“Allah was there to preserve your life, Master.” He did not think he had done Abbas a favor, considering his condition, but he held his peace.
“You could have let them finish me. I shall not forget. Does my wife know?”
“Yes Lord, she knows. I could not lie to her.”
Abbas sighed, and as though accepting the fact, he relaxed a little and closed his eyes. They lifted him in the palanquin and began the long slow journey to Abbas’s home.
The entire household turned out to greet their master, and although the womenfolk, including Khalidah, were still out of sight, Talon was sure that they were watching from behind the intricate fretwork of the closed shutters known as mashrabya and saw everything that went on in the compound.
Assassination in Al Qahira Page 23
