“That does not explain the battle I heard of in the house of Abbas, the fire and the subsequent death of him and many of his family,” the Sultan remarked dryly.
“The story I was told, my lord, is that Bahir, ever the impetuous, went there to confront the Lord Abbas, but was met with spears and swords instead. He barely got out of there with his life and lost many men. The fire must have occurred later, because of a fallen lamp, perhaps? But Bahir withdrew and then sent a messenger to me to explain what had happened. I was very angry and replied that he should not have done this and that we should wait for your orders.”
“I received your messenger, but he disappeared when I needed to talk to him,” The Sultan said. “Bring the boy here to me,” he called. “You should know that a man came to me in the Negev from the house of Lord Abbas, but his story does not seem to match up with that of Bahir’s.”
It took some time, but the ever hospitable Sultan offered Kemosiri tea and they were deep into a discussion about the successes of Turin Shah in Yemen, when the guards brought a young man, more a boy, into the chamber. The boy prostrated himself immediately in front of the sultan who said, “Stand up, Haytham. I want you to recount your story to my noble friend Lord Kemosiri.”
The unsuspecting boy told them how he had escaped from the compound during the attack, but then he had returned and been captured by men who he did not know. A servant of Abbas named Suleiman had saved him and told him to ride to the sultan and tell him of the tragedy and about the involvement of the Poet.
The Sultan thanked him and bade him go. The boy looked curiously at Kemosiri but said nothing, then bowed very low and left in the company of the guards.
The sultan looked at Kemosiri. “So you see, there is a problem with what he is telling me and what I am hearing from you, and also what we heard from Bahir. I do not understand it Kemosiri …do you have an explanation?”
Kemosiri had been sweating for a few minutes. He did not recognize the boy, but the boy might well have recognized him. Apparently he had not, and Kemosiri breathed a little easier.
The sultan continued in a thoughtful manner, “Why was Bahir killed in the manner he was? I hear it was gruesome; who in Allah’s name would do this?”
“Alas, the death of Bahir points back to the house of Abbas, my Liege. It was also suggested that the Hashashini were involved.”
“The Hashishini! What has Sinan and his unpleasant retainers got to do with any of this?”
“They hate you, my lord, and all of us. Remember they are Ismaili. It would not be hard for someone in the Abbas family to pay them to come and do what they did to Bahir. Perhaps they are more deeply involved than we think. Despite everything, the house of Abbas was once loyal to the Fatimid family.” He paused briefly. “My lord, what was done to Bahir was terrible in the eyes of Allah. I mourn him, as I do my friend Abbas. How it could have come to this, God only knows, but if I think on it I have to ask myself this question,” Kemosiri said with an anguished expression on his face. “If Abbas was innocent of the charges that are being discussed, why has the Lady Khalidah not come to you to ask for protection?”
The Sultan sat back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. “You are right. No one knows where she is at this time. The house of Abbas is apparently destroyed, but she is supposed to have survived; however, there is no sign of her or her children. Is she gone from Cairo?”
“I believe it to be the case, my lord. But I do know she is not in Alexandria because I have just come from there. Had she been there I am sure I would have known about it.”
“Then where could she be? Perhaps you are right, Kemosiri. Why did she not come to me and ask for succor immediately if she had been innocent? That would have been the right thing to do. This whole thing is very confusing, but there are almost no witnesses to the truth. You were gone; Abbas is dead, and now so is Bahir. Not only that, the poet seems to have run off.”
He sat back, his features bore a look of acute frustration and he pulled at his short beard.
“While I have a very hard time imagining my loyal servant Abbas plotting against me, I find it very strange that his family has seemingly gone into hiding. That points to guilt of some kind.”
Kemosiri allowed himself an inaudible sigh of relief. There had been beads of sweat on his forehead, but now he felt that he was more in control of the situation.
“Rumor has it that the lady Khalidah, and the family, might have gone to Lord Abbas’s estates in the Fayoum, my lord.”
“Then I shall send messengers to order her to come back to Cairo so that we can hear her story. The son—is his name Kazim?—stands to inherit, but it must be done with my approval and only if the name of Abbas is cleared.”
“My lord, I beg your forgiveness for having left my post, but I truly felt that for a few days at least it would be safe to do so. I shall atone for my neglect in whatever manner you should see fit. I beg firstly that I might serve you, and be charged with finding the poet and the family of Abbas, to bring them back to you for judgment and explanation, at the very least.”
The sultan looked at him speculatively. “Yes, you have caused me much trouble, as I am certain that had you been here none of this could have happened and I would not have had to come back in a rush to deal with the aftermath. Allah alone knows what the truth is in this ugly matter, but I shall be lenient in your case, as I need good commanders.” He looked straight into Kemosiri’s eyes and said, “I want you to find the poet and bring him to me for justice, and the family of Abbas is to be found and brought before me. I wish to hear their side of this strange story.”
Kemosiri bowed very low. “May Allah protect you forever, my lord. I am your humble servant, always.”
He bowed his way out of the chamber, and rode back to his palace in a thoughtful but satisfied mood.
Upon his return, Kemosiri summoned Akhom, the former bodyguard of Bahir.
When the burly guard arrived, he bowed low, placing his hand over his heart.
“Allah’s blessings, my lord. You summoned me?”
“I did, Akhom. You are to take the galley that has just arrived from the Middle sea and sail it to Al Andalusia.”
“That is very far, Lord. May I ask the reason for this journey?”
“You are to find the Poet Umarah and bring him back to me. No one is to know he is your prisoner. You bring him into my presence, in chains if need be, and to none other. Do I make myself clear?”
“I fully understand, Lord. I am your servant in all things.”
“Be sure that you do not fail me, as you failed your former master, Akhom,” Kemosiri said icily.
Akhom bowed low, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
“You will also verify that the Lady Khalidah and her son are not in Al Andalusia at the same time. Should they be, you will kill the son, secretly, and bring the lady back to me.”
“It shall be as you command, Lord.”
Has Time taken off its clothes of trembling,
And donned its finest gown and jewels?
Is earth now wearing robes of linen,
Richly woven and threaded with gold?
The land along the Nile is checkered.
As though with the priestly breastplate and vest,
And the desert oases are carpets of color.
— Yehuda Halevi
Chapter 26
Aswan
Talon stood with Panhsj and Max on the upper deck of the dromon galley, waiting anxiously for Malek to appear on the bank with his men. It was sweltering in the burning sun. There was almost no breeze to alleviate the stink rising from the oar deck, coupled with the smell of hot tar and caulk from the ships timbers. The odors were heavy. Time appeared to have stopped. The whole ship was stunned by the heat of the day. Men lay about in inert bundles snatching any shade they could find.
Of the Lady Khalidah there had not been much evidence. Talon was aware that her head was still very sore and that she wanted to rest. It must be stifling in
the cabin, he thought, even with the window shutters opened to allow what little cool air lifted from the river to flow through the small space. This reminded him of the plight of the rowers and he ordered the hatches to be opened at both ends of the rowing deck to allow air to circulate through the lower deck; yet another man had died and was carelessly thrown overboard to drift down stream, food for the crocodiles.
It was late in the day with sun almost below the top of the river banks, throwing the few palm trees into sharp relief, when a man on a horse appeared at the top of the bank and looked down at them. With the sun directly behind him it was hard to see if the horseman was one of the men who accompanied Malek or someone less welcome. Everyone became very tense as they watched him. But then there was a distant shout and Malek himself cantered over the rise, followed by his group of men.
They began to descend the steep bank towards the pier in a flurry of sand; there they dismounted and began the difficult business of urging their mounts along the surface of the pier. It took almost an hour of frantic activity to walk the horses aboard. After giving orders for them to be given water and washed down, Malek strode to the back deck and told them of their adventures. The boat, now full of the newcomers with their horses loaded and tied, pushed off and headed into the middle of the river; again the monotonous sound of the drum accompanied the rise and fall of the oars.
“Allah be praised, but I am glad to see you, Malek.” Panhsj spoke for all three of them after they embraced.
“No more than I am to see you! Allah protected us this day. They are a long way behind us so I think we evaded them, Insha’Allah!” Malek said with a grin. There was a strip of dust in a wide band across his temples, eyes and nose.
“Did you see them?” Max asked eagerly.
“We caught a far glimpse of them just as we were about to turn south, Max, but they were hours behind us so we don’t know who was with the group. My guess is that Al Muntaqim, whomsoever he is, is still wondering which direction we finally took.” He laughed, but it was clear he was very tired.
“You and the men must rest,” Talon said. “We have food, but you must find yourself a place to sleep wherever you can. This boat is overcrowded with people and the cabin is where my Lady is staying.”
Malek nodded. “I want to hear about the capture of this boat when I am rested. Allah be praised, you have no idea how worried I have been. Praise be to Allah that we were both successful.” He turned and strode down to the main deck to join his men, who were already seated on the planks telling of their adventures to the others, who in turn told their own story of how they had captured the ship with no casualties.
“We have to tell him of your crazed plan tomorrow, Suleiman,” Panhsj said.
“We need to inform my Lady soon as well. But tonight we have to be alert, because I do not trust the crew. Someone of us will have to stay awake with at least one or two others,” Talon said.
“I shall talk to them,” Panhsj said, an ominous tone in his voice. “They will heed me.”
Max and Talon chuckled at that.
The night was long, but the water cooled the air and it was not as arduous as during the day. Talon took a late watch and was informed all was well by Max as he relieved him on the after deck. “The crew seem to be quiet, Suleiman. Our men are watching them with the promise of the crocodiles for anyone who does not behave,” Max told him and went down to the main deck to sleep.
The boat sailed up the river at a fair speed with both the huge lateen sails stretched taut before the night breeze. The oarsmen had ceased their work long ago and all was quiet below. The only men awake were the guards posted by Panhsj, the steersmen, and himself. Talon guessed that this type of sail, because of its triangular shape, could catch the wind from several quarters, which made it useful on a river such as this.
He wondered what the next day would bring. Staring at the crescent moon that now lit up the sky, blotting out the stars in its vicinity, he wandered again when he might ever see Rav’an again. He had spent almost a year here in Egypt, which made it nearly two since he had been taken away from her. His heart was heavy as he contemplated a world without either Rav’an or Reza in it. He muttered a prayer for them in the vain hope that it might be heard.
He had wanted to go down and talk to Henry, but realized that the men below were doubtless in an exhausted sleep which he should not disturb. He tramped around the rear deck restlessly and looked back down river, looking for signs of pursuit; there were none. He wondered for the hundredth time who Al Muntaqim might really be. Something nagged at his memory, but he could not bring it forth to examine it. He heard a tiny sound behind him and spun around, his sword almost out of its sheath, to find himself staring at Khalidah. She had reached the top stair of the ladder leading to the deck upon which he was standing.
She flinched but he snapped his sword back and bowed very low with his hand on his heart. Khalidah recovered her composure and advanced towards him, her slippers making very little noise as she approached.
“Peace be with you, my Lady,” Talon said, straightening up.
“Peace be with you too, Suleiman. You are guarding us once more, I see.”
“My Lady, I hope you have recovered from your injury?” he asked politely. Even though she was veiled she was a lovely ethereal vision in the moonlight. It was good she hid behind cloth, as the boat was filled with men, and not all of them friendly. The guards had noticed her. He glared at the steersmen, who turned their curious eyes away to stare studiously forward.
She touched the side of her head tentatively with her fingers, allowing her fine cotton veil to shift. Although he could see little of her face, her fine features were drawn with fatigue.
“I shall recover, with Allah’s help. Khaldun is exhausted and asleep, as are the children, but I could not sleep, so I came out. I hope I am not disturbing you?”
Talon gave her a smile. “My Lady, this is your ship and I am honored to be in your presence.”
She spoke in a low voice, “I hear Malek came aboard and that we are a complete family again. That is good, as I was worried about him, although I should not have been. He is a very resourceful man and his people know the desert better than anyone.”
“He is indeed, my Lady, Allah be praised. We are all happy that he made it without incident, and just as importantly, we can hope that the enemy does not know where we are.”
It was clear she wanted to stay, so Talon gestured towards the back rail furthest away from the steersmen. They leaned on the rail to watch the pale glimmer of the wake below. Talon made sure he was not too close. There was silence between them for a long moment until then she spoke again.
“We go to Aswan where my husband fought the Nubians not so long ago; I wonder what it will be like there.”
“Panhsj can tell us, can he not, my Lady?”
“Perhaps he can, but I have a relative who is a distant cousin living there within the city of Aswan. I doubt if Panhsj has met him.”
“Do you know him, this relative, my Lady?”
“I only know that he was a man of letters, like my father, and that he was also a mathematician and astrologer who shunned the big cities, preferring to live in remote places rather than the center of society, such as Cairo. Khaldun will certainly like him.”
“These men are usually kind, and with Allah’s guidance he will give you shelter, I am sure of it, my Lady.”
“It is in Allah’s hands, Suleiman.” Then she changed the subject.
“When you leave us, where will you go, Suleiman?”
Talon hesitated, then finally he answered, “I have an unfinished journey to complete, my Lady. It must be when we have made sure that you are safe in Aswan.”
“You will go back to your family?”
“No, my Lady.”
“Then for what? Where will you go?”
Talon was silent for so long that she took it to mean he had not heard.
“Did you not hear me, Suleiman? Or will you not answer
my question?”
“I…I go to search for my companions. I do not know whether they are dead or alive.”
“Men lose companions all the time but they don’t…” she stopped. Her head turned towards him and he thought he saw surprise in her eyes.
“Suleiman, is it a woman you seek?”
Talon just nodded.
She sighed and said softly, “You love this woman? Yes, you must. Where will you go to find her?”
“I have to go deep into Persia just to know if she is even alive, my Lady.”
“But that is so far away. You would do this?”
Unexpectedly her hand came out and her fingers touched his that were gripping the rail for the briefest of moments. Her touch was so light he was almost unsure that she had, but his pulse began to beat harder than before.
“It is very well known to all of us that you are a man of many secrets, Suleiman. I too know this, but I am privileged that you have shared this secret with me. I shall say a prayer to Allah that she is safe.”
“Thank you, my Lady. That is kind of you.”
“I shall bid you goodnight, Suleiman. Peace be with you.”
She smiled then and left him with a bemused expression on his face as he bowed to her retreating back.
“Peace be with you, my Lady.”
The next morning the wind picked up enough for them not to need the rowers; and Malek, who had taken command, ordered the rowers to rest and to be fed. The sour crew under the supervision of his men went around with water and the daily gruel.
Panhsj had already revealed Talon’s plan to Malek, who called him and Max over to discuss the situation. He was quite put out by the whole plan but was prepared to listen to Talon’s interpretation before he vetoed it. He also wanted to discuss it with Khalidah, preferably at the same time, so they trouped into the rear cabin. There, after the usual greetings, they were bade to sit, and Talon told them all what was on his mind.
He knew that he would get only one chance to make his case. Even though Panhsj was half way convinced, Talon realized that Panhsj would do what Malek decided, for he was still subservient to him. Talon used all his powers of persuasion, pointing out that by making the slaves their crewmen, with the promise of food and a future chance to go to the Holy Land, they would have their loyalty. They certainly would stand more chance if it came to a fight with an enemy who far outnumbered them. The original crew was untrustworthy, and if any one of them managed to escape and find their way back to Al Muntaqim, they were in mortal danger.
Assassination in Al Qahira Page 37
