It was a long way to go from the sanctuary to the palace of Bahir. The air was cool after the storm of the previous evening. The usual filthy puddles had been refreshed with rain water and the recessed places, in the corners between walls and at the base of stone steps, were strewn with trapped debris carried there by the rushing waters from the storm.
He noticed that there were few people about, which was unusual, as the Cairo citizen liked to stay up late. Talon reasoned that it had to be due to the current uncertainty and fear that kept the merchants in their own homes and the revelers off the streets. He noticed groups of armed men at some street intersections and gave them a wide berth. It was easy enough to move by unnoticed, as they were often enjoying noisy games of dice and bones around a fire that warmed them against the evening chill. It became obvious as he made his way along the gloomy streets that the city was under some kind of armed watch and he felt that his suspicions about the political climate were confirmed.
Using all his skill, he kept out of sight, for he did not want to be intercepted either coming or going. Often as not, it was unavoidable that he should come very close to people, but no one noticed the inconspicuous shadow slipping by. Once again he was able to put his training in the school of the Assassins to good use.
He reached the tall walls of Bahir’s palace and studied its fascia for a place to clamber over. It did not take him long to scale the outer wall unnoticed by the sentries who were on patrol on the top of the wall. They failed to notice the shadow that eased over the edge and slithered down the inner wall to disappear into the darkness of the bushes. He planned to gain entry into Bahir’s chamber through a main door he had noticed while on his last visit, but he ran into an unexpected problem; it was now guarded by a large man, and unfortunately he appeared to be wide awake.
Talon wondered why there were guards everywhere, but then he supposed Bahir was probably concerned for his own safety after sacking Abbas’s palace, and he was therefore taking no chances. Talon paused in the darkness offered by the heavy folds of some wall curtains to think how it was to be done and decided that he would investigate the servants first and see what they were doing that might offer an opportunity.
From what he had seen the last time, he doubted that many of them were asleep. He suspected that Bahir kept his staff running about on his behalf until late. He was right. There were still many of them awake. He avoided being discovered by moving quickly out of the way or walking past someone with his head down, as though on an errand himself. He knew this would not work for very long as sooner or later one of them would challenge him. In fact one did, but fortunately for Talon there was a large chest nearby and the inquisitive servant, now very dead, was swiftly dumped inside it and the lid eased quietly down upon the body.
Talon borrowed the man’s linen overshirt and made his way to the kitchens to see what he could carry. It seemed to him that no one challenged anyone who was carrying around a tray of food or drink and moving purposefully in one direction. He was lucky, the sleepy cooks and a couple of other servants were huddled together at the entrance to the large cooking area getting some fresh air.
He noted a brass tray with cups and a brass pot that steamed, giving off the smell of fresh coffee, which had been placed on a stone shelf nearby. He quietly lifted the tray and moved back into the corridor he had just left. He slipped along the now familiar route to the main entrance of the room where the sentry was standing guard at the door of the same room he had entered the last time he had visited. He had assumed there was only one destination for the coffee. His face half in shadow from the turban loosely wrapped and now well over his brows, Talon indicated that he wanted entry.
The guard looked him over casually, his attention held by the tray and the aroma of coffee that accompanied him. Talon waited patiently for him to open the door and let him through; he felt his heart pounding.
The guard even leaned over and sniffed the coffee, clearly wishing he could have some, and leered, “By God, I wish it was me going in there…those two nymphs are from heaven, I swear.”
Talon found the wits to give him a tight grin and sidled past gingerly, balancing the tray. He wondered if Bahir would recognize him from the game of chogan, where indeed they had come very close. At the far end of the room Talon could see a pool of amber light cast by two oil lamps. Bahir was reclining on the sleeping platform among the cushions and the rumpled silk bed clothes. He was partially undressed and had company.
Leaning over him and snuggling up to him were two very pretty girls. They were quite naked, the glow of the flame casting soft shadows on their limbs. They were giggling and moving their hands over Bahir’s chest, whispering seductively to him. Keeping his eyes down Talon approached the bed and stood waiting.
Bahir noticed the presence of the servant as his nostrils caught the coffee aroma wafting across the room. He waved his hand for Talon to place it on a low table alongside the bed.
Talon did as he was told and poured a small cup of the black cardamom flavored coffee, which he offered to Bahir with a deep bow, keeping his head and his eyes down. Bahir, however, had eyes only for the two naked girls. His one hand was stroking the smooth inner thigh of one girl sliding slowly up to her hairless sex, while he enjoyed what the other was doing to him. She had him thoroughly aroused. Bahir glanced up and took the cup without a word, drained it, handed it back, and waved Talon off without even looking up.
Talon glanced around the room as he placed the cup back on the tray and withdrew backward, his head down. He had no intention of leaving, however. He could have stabbed Bahir then and there, but he knew he would have to kill the girls too, and he might not be able to prevent a scream from one of them.
There was a curtained archway that led to an open window perhaps twenty feet from the bed. He faded into this darker shadow, watching Bahir all the time, and then found himself with plenty of room on a balcony that looked out over a small courtyard where bushes and small palms grew. He assessed the options of escape. If he could get down the twenty feet to the courtyard he could easily get amongst the bushes and then over the main wall to the street. The curtains would provide him with a rope.
He made his plans for departure while listening to the increasing activity on the bedroom side of the curtain. The one thing he did not want was for Bahir to get off the bed and walk to the window. He settled down to wait and tried to shut out the moans of ecstasy, real or performed, that came from the bed. Bahir was a strong man and quite determined to wear both girls out. Their enthusiasm waned, for he was a brutal lover, leaving one semi-conscious. The other one shrank into a corner of the bed whimpering.
Talon’s ears registered a shuffling outside the main door; he shrank back into the deeper shadows. A man came in and bowed very low some ten feet from the bed where Bahir was sitting up. The girls, probably relieved to have a break, were peering fearfully out from under the rumpled bedclothes.
“What is it, Akhom?” Bahir asked querulously, clearly put out by this interruption.
“Will there be anything else that you require this evening, my lord?” It was the huge servant and body guard whom Talon had seen on his former visit. “No. Go away and do not come for me until I call in the morning. Make sure the guards are silent outside the door,” Bahir grunted.
The servant bowed again. “May Allah pour his blessings upon you this night, My lord, and give you great strength,” he said unctuously, and backed out of the room.
The door closed quietly and Talon sensed that the rest of the house was going to sleep. Bahir chuckled and was quickly restored to full arousal and the passion on the bed became heated, but this time there was much slapping and even some crying from the girls as Bahir got into his stride. Talon yawned.
Later when the crescent moon was half way down on the western sky, Bahir got out of bed and went over to a large pot in the corner of the room, relieving himself noisily. He climbed back into bed and soon went to sleep, ignoring the girls. After a whispered conferenc
e they followed suit, but they huddled together on the left side of the bed as far away as possible from Bahir. Soon snores told Talon that Bahir had fallen into a deep sleep. He watched the girls for a few long moments to ensure that they too were asleep.
Moving out of his cover, Talon crept over to the bed, all the time intently watching the sleeping figures. His blade in hand, he was prepared for any one of them who might sense him and wake up suddenly; they would just as quickly die.
He was glad that Bahir was on the right hand side of the bed and that he was also lying on his right side. It was an easy matter to open the vein that pulsed on the sleeping man’s thick neck. The convulsions were mild, as much blood had flowed before the victim awoke groggily to realize his terrible predicament. Neither of the girls awoke during the brief time Talon knelt on his chest and held a hand over the man’s mouth. He stared down into the stricken eyes of Bahir which slowly glazed over as he died. Bahir’s last image in life was to see Talon’s dark figure leaning over him.
* * * * *
Talon arrived back in the tunnels and slipped by the two sentries that Mukhwana had posted on the advice of Panhsj; neither noticed him. He went to bed near the sleeping Panhsj and shut his eyes.
The next morning was much like any other in the caverns. They ate a plain breakfast of cabbage and lentil soup accompanied by large, wide disks of dried bread. Mukhwana had thoughtfully provided some fruit, stolen no doubt, but welcome.
Talon woke later than the others and joined them towards the end of the meal. There were questioning looks from Khalidah after the normal greetings, but she did not ask any questions. The children had not noticed enough to ask questions either. There was a resigned look about them, however; there was nothing to be done at this point but wait for Mukhwana to find a boat. Panhsj took Talon aside later and demanded to know where he had been.
“No one really noticed, not even that Lord of the Beggars, as you call him, Suleiman. But I know you went somewhere. Was it back to the palace? What did you do all night?”
“I wandered the streets thinking and watching; there are soldiers all over the place. It would be very dangerous for us to leave these tunnels except at night, and even then it has to be by way of the river. Allah knows what else our enemies are doing and planning.”
Panhsj nodded agreement, but there was a bewildered scowl on his face. “I trust you now, Suleiman, although I was right, you are not what you seem.” He paused and added in a conspiratorial tone. “I shall not say anything.”
It was not long into the morning when a couple of beggars came rushing into the tunnel area shouting with excitement.
Mukhwana was holding court, as usual, with his old cronies reestablished in their respective places, lounging in front of him, smoking and drinking tea. It was almost as though they had never moved, Talon thought, as he contemplated them. He looked up, along with everyone else at the arrival of the newcomers. Nerves were on edge and this could portend an attack.
Men scrambled for weapons, as did Panhsj and Talon, although he was sure he knew the reason for the excitement. The two beggars ran up to the platform where Mukhwana was seated and without any preamble babbled out their news in loud voices. They were so excited that he had to stop them and make them tell it again.
“What in the name of Allah are you two idiots trying to say?” he roared.
“The Lord Bahir is dead! He was murdered! His head was found on the window ledge of his bedroom,” they shouted back in unison. “The news is all over the city. They think it was the Hashishini. No one else could have done such a thing in this manner.”
Mukhwana dropped the mouthpiece of the water pipe he had been drawing on and sat back gaping at them.
Panhsj turned slowly towards Talon, his eyes wide with shock. “You?” he exclaimed in a whisper that no one else could hear.
Talon put a finger to his lips and drew Panhsj away. “Yes, I killed him, and you must not tell anyone about it, Panhsj; fear would put people against us and even against my Lady. The man deserved to die, and I wanted to leave a message for the others involved in this that they could expect no place to be safe.”
Panhsj said very quietly, “By God but you are a dangerous man, Suleiman—if that is your real name. I will support you because what you did is for my young lord’s protection, but I think I too fear you. What should we do now?”
“I for one need an escort to go and get the rest of the gold, and then we will have to see what happens.”
He gained permission to go see the Jewish banker Levi without problem, and a while later found himself facing the man over the inevitable cups of tea.
Levi again noted the dirt on his customer and the unkempt and even unwashed state, but refrained from comment. However, while they were sipping tea, seated on silk cushions placed on the colorful carpets, he could not resist mentioning the latest news.
“Suleiman, you must have heard? The street is abuzz with gossip, and it is all about the death of Lord Bahir. He was murdered in his bed but his head was put on display! You might remember you played chogan with him. Now both he and Lord Abbas are dead. Is that some kind of coincidence perhaps?”
“I am sure there is an explanation for it. I do not think the deaths are connected, though. I suspect as everyone else does, that Bahir offended the Hashashini. May God be kind to his soul,” Talon said in a casual manner.
“You cannot believe how much the people on the street love this kind of thing, although nothing quite like this has happened before. The stories get more lurid by the hour. My servant tells me that they are talking about nothing else in all the tea houses. It has provided Cairo with a new crop of vulgar jokes. They find this horrifying, but funny, too.” He could not hold back a small grin as he said, “Losing his head over a couple of girls. The people of Cairo have not had so much entertainment for a long time.”
Indeed, it seemed that this latest event almost eclipsed the tragedy of Abbas in people’s minds. Few, if any, made any connection. Levi, who obviously had his ear to the ground, and whose very existence depended upon being ahead of events, did not make any certain connection between the two deaths. He discussed the incident with Talon as though it was merely a coincidence.
Talon was listening carefully and looked interested, but none of what was being said all round him was of any real importance. He made his way back to the tunnels and handed the remainder of the gold dinars over to Mukhwana.
Later that evening, after the excited chatter over dinner had died down and Mukhwana had collected all the available facts of the matter, he held a conference.
Khalidah and the children were given the place of honor near him on the threadbare cushions, with tea to hand. To Talon, she looked pale and wan. The events and their predicament, combined with the filthy conditions they endured, were taking their toll.
Talon, Panhsj, and the two guards Hanif and Aahmes were standing nearby.
“It would seem that Allah in his infinite wisdom has seen fit to rid the world of a very bad man. May He not have mercy on his soul,” Mukhwana intoned, his one eye resting on Talon for a long moment. “However, the danger to you, my Lady, is not lessened, as Al Muntaqim is a vengeful man, and if he even suspects that you had a hand in this, he will move heaven and earth to find you.”
Khalidah spoke for the first time in some while.
“I do not understand how it could be possible for me to have had a hand in Emir Bahir’s death, but as you say, Lord of the Beggars; Allah’s will has been done and I am rid of the man who murdered my husband, or at least one of them, and for that I give thanks to Allah.”
Her clear voice reached the people at the edge of the crowded cavern. Many muttered their agreement; there was much sympathy for her here. In the short while they had spent in this underground place she had behaved with dignity and kindness to all.
“Go about your business, all of you. I want to talk to these people in private!” Mukhwana bellowed. The crowd dispersed slowly to their respective caves wh
ile the group near to him settled in to listen.
“All the same, it is important to get you out of the city, my Lady, and in that regard I have not been tardy,” Mukhwana said in a low voice.
“There is now a boat, but we still have to find a way to get you onto it. Once aboard, you will be safe, as it is a very fine falukah and can take you up stream faster than most boats. The trouble is that if you go to the docks, everyone will know that it is you, my Lady, and for sure recognize the boy here,” he pointed at Kazim.
“Can we not go there via the tunnels and drains that reach across the city?” Talon asked.
The discussion went back and forth for some time in low voices, as they explored their limited options. They went to bed still wondering when they would be able to leave safely.
* * * * *
In another large house far removed from the tunnels, two men were having tea. The poet Umarah ibn Ali al-Hakami was pale with worry, and so agitated that he could barely hold the small and elegant ceramic cup of tea in his shaking hands. Opposite him sat Al Muntaqim, who glared at him as though daring him to whine. Between them was a low table with food on it, but neither had any appetite.
The poet had to voice his fear to someone, but the only person who could be included in his confidence sat opposite him and was not responsive to his feelings.
“Who could have done this dreadful thing? By God, I cannot think of such a horrible death for anyone. I pray Allah will be kind to his soul.” His voice was faint.
“It is highly doubtful that Allah will be kind to his soul, poet, but I am just now more concerned for my own life, as you should be for yours.” Al Muntaqim spoke drily, and carried on with disdain.
Assassination in Al Qahira Page 29
