They had all used the time wisely. Nasir, though frequently still barely conscious, had people brought to him in his sickroom, where he’d been quietly offering whatever inducements were needed for key backers to move behind the youthful claimant. The boy’s succession was far from assured, despite his father’s public proclamation before he left on his ill-fated mission to the Kinzan assembly – a proclamation that had been endorsed unanimously at the time by the family majlis. The need for someone to succeed the powerful war leader had arisen much too soon after that proclamation, however, for his son’s elevation to be a foregone conclusion. Even more in play than any previous endorsement was the brutal fact that in times of war men would rather be lead by a warrior than an untried boy. It was a mind-set that was going to be difficult to overcome.
The inner group around him were well aware, though, that they had major advantages in addition to Fouad’s publicly proclaimed wish and its endorsement. The first of these was that many in the family agreed that such a strong, clear line of succession was necessary if they were to avoid going the way of other dynasties in Arabia and dissipating their strength in internal blood-letting. The pro-Talal faction was cynically aware, however, that that agreement in principle, far from precluded those same princes deciding that they and their descendants should be the ones to create that strong central line. The second powerful advantage was that which Daoud and Mish’al between them had secured – the citadel itself. Not only was it the symbol of rule, but it was also a virtually impregnable bastion against any who would dispute Talal’s right to that rule. That it also held both the treasury and the main armoury were, in themselves, also not insignificant underpinnings of their strength.
Isaac, as ever indefatigable when the interests of Faoud or his line were concerned, had also been active in mustering support, but he had to do it quietly, almost anonymously. For although the majlis would be attended by some of the most prominent non-family inhabitants of the town, it would be only the family itself who would confirm or deny the succession to Talal. Though many merchants and other powerful families had strong links with one or more of the reigning house, all accepted that, in theory at least, only the family should choose from within itself who became their head. All loyalty, whether it was from the town or the deserts, was given to the emir from the family of the ruling house, whoever that turned out to be. Indeed, many of the town’s most prominent citizens wished fervently that they wouldn’t be invited to attend the gathering.
They had absolutely no wish at all to get caught between one or more of the rival claimants. It would be too unsafe for any merchant to willingly place himself in the position of even appearing to be supportive of one of the eventual losers. Almost equally perilous, of course, was not seeming enthusiastic enough, early enough, for the eventual winner.
The forces gathering behind Talal knew that Badr would be crucial to influencing the majlis. Besides being a senior brother, his reputation on both the battlefield and in the emirate’s councils meant that he would be closely listened to – and followed by many. He had also been one of the closest to Fouad in both age and outlook, which, when his brother was alive, gave them both great strength. Whether any loyalty would remain when he himself had a chance of becoming emir and leader of the emirate remained to be seen. Certainly, they’d been wise to block his attempt to lead the deliberations.
Fortunately, enough other senior members had confirmed Nasir’s nomination of Abdullah, which meant that the great-uncle of Fouad and the most senior surviving sheikh of the family by a good few years, would indeed preside over the gathering. It was, however, only by the younger man’s strongest persuasion that the elderly Sheikh agree to do it. However, his age, combined with his only surviving son’s incompetence, meant that he would make no attempt to stay at its head permanently – facts that made him an ideal choice. Of course, his path away from potential power was very much smoothed by Firyal and Zahirah’s gold, by this time lavishly, though secretly, bestowed on him. That the very temporary nature of his accession suited other groupings besides the pro-Talal camp also helped ensure his swift endorsement, of course.
Nasir reflected that he had learnt well from the inner group around Fouad, over the two years or so that he’d been involved in the inner council. Once he would have assumed that each family member would choose with the good of Narash uppermost in their minds. Though still far from cynical, he now automatically discounted that such personal disinterestedness would play much of a part in anyone’s calculations, whatever platitudes would be mouthed. He just wished he was older. He knew that, though his reputation as both a warrior and a politician was strong and still growing, his youth would preclude his saying too much in the family council, certainly not before all, or most, of those older and more senior than he had had their say. And by then it could be too late. The separate thoughts of those present, as in any gathering of men would at some point settle into the collective will and, should that happen before Nasir had a chance to speak, the opportunity to speak for Talal would be lost.
Everything had been done that they could do in the short time available to them. Gold had been dispersed to those with influence but little chance of becoming ruler themselves; a little remark, gently phrased, pointing out to those with something to hide the best path for them to take to ensure that that which was best kept hidden, stayed hidden; the offer to those for whom power was the goal that power could be given after the right result occurred; those with arrogance had their egos stroked with fine words and, where relevant, their wives bedecked with the finest of silver jewellery. But even with all that, there remained a core of serious, very serious, rivals to Talal’s elevation. Had she had more time, they would not have worried Zahirah unduly; after all, life was, at best, uncertain; no more so than in the harsh deserts of Arabia. Much could happen to unexpectedly end a life once so full of promise, or, indeed, one so full of threat. In the little more than seventy two hours before the assembly, however, too much too soon could undo any benefit their sudden absence could give.
So, although much had been prepared for, much remained uncertain as they prepared to take part in the crucial majlis. As Zahirah and Firyal, from their usual position behind the screens, looked out impassively and watched the large, airy chamber fill up with the fifty or so family members along with the heads of the emirate’s most powerful merchant families, they knew there were some five men who were threats to Talal. Two, Nasim and Yusuf, were – perhaps – containable. They would, probably, be neutralised by the fact that they were both supported by the same faction within the family, and so their possible support was divided.
The other three however, were of a different level of threat entirely. Mahmoud, although no warrior, was one of the more senior sheikhs and, in addition, had an almost unrivalled reputation for wiliness and being adept at the inter-tribal politics so necessary for the sheikdom’s survival. He was also more than comfortably wealthy in his own right and thus was in no need of any of the financial offerings Zahirah or Firyal could offer. Though balanced to some extent by the great, though unvoiced, distaste for his mother being of the despised artisan class, he was one to watch. He was followed very closely by Faisal. Both men had strong followings and were in, or near, the very prime of their fighting lives.
None of the contenders came close, however, to the level of threat that the fifth man presented, for finally, the last, but very much not the least, was Badr. Of them all, he was the one who most closely resembled Fouad, being himself a powerful warrior and ruthless leader. He had proven skills in all of the arts of negotiation and subtlety needed to hold Narash together. In many ways, and in the eyes of many, he was the ideal choice to follow his brother.
Though they suspected that he thought the same, Talal’s supporters didn’t know with absolute certainty. The wily prince had played a skilled hand and had let little slip about his intentions, or his ambitions, in the days preceding the majlis.
As each member of the majlis entered t
he chamber and took his seat on one or other of the many colourful cushions placed on the richly carpeted floor, everyone knew that the outcome was far, so very far, from certain. Every one present also knew that if Talal’s bid failed, his life would be in real danger. No new Emir would lightly leave alive one so recently and so obviously his rival.
What most of those present, Talal’s supporters included, didn’t know, however, were the ruthless measures that were in place should the choice go against Fouad’s son. Destructive, divisive, certainly, but they would be used should things go against what his father had decreed. For the moment, they were in abeyance until the outcome of the family majlis was known; in abeyance, but capable of being mobilised at a moment’s notice, once one, or perhaps two, people deemed them necessary.
Chapter Six
The first blow for Talal was, in fact, struck before the gathering actually began. Nasir walked in with his nephew at his side. Crucially, at Talal’s other side was Abdullah. Nothing was said, it was too soon, but Talal was handed to a seat near, but not too near, Abdullah himself, who took the place of honour on the small dais. The elderly sheikh ostentatiously ignored the rising murmurs when those already gathered had seen Talal enter, though he was aware that they consisted of an about equal mix of surprise, anger and welcome.
Once seated, the prince looked around at his assembled family. Behind his always reserved manner and increasing frailty he was an astute reader of men and could see that the majority were genuinely shocked and grieved at the sudden death of the life-force that had been Fouad. He’d been their leader for almost twenty years and many in the family were genuinely unsure of how the country would survive the huge external pressures at present pushing relentlessly against it. Abdullah hoped such grief and uncertainty would act as the glue to bind them all together in the choices to be made both today and in the dangerous days following. He hoped so, but sincerely doubted it. Power was almost as big a drug as women he thought; more so, as one got older, he reflected, a trifle sadly.
Once the usual courtesies had been offered, refreshments consumed and the slaves had left the room, he spoke quietly. “Brothers, nephews, cousins, honoured friends, little did we think a few short months ago, when we met and it was agreed that Talal be designated his heir, that we should so soon afterwards lose Fouad himself. He was the very strength, the very heart, of Narash. No one can easily stand in his place, no one,” he said flatly, looking round at each of his kinsmen as though defying them to challenge his statement. Instead, the loud and genuine murmurs of agreement that greeted his words, gave him a little, just a little, hope that they could reach an agreement satisfactory to all. “Despite that short period,” he went on, “I invite you to confirm the decision that we all freely took – and acknowledge Talal as our Emir.” He paused and looked round the assembled gathering. The direct question so soon and so unexpected, placed those who had indeed intended to question that decision in something of a quandary. Bringing the ten year old in himself and seating him amongst the men of the family also showed clearly where Abdullah himself expected the decision to go. He knew it was a master-stroke; had known it when it was suggested to him. He had known, also, that the audacious move would wrong-foot at least two who had intended to claim the leadership for themselves.
Wrong-footed they had been, but not silenced. “We are glad to see our nephew amongst us, though somewhat before his time,” began Miteib, full brother and close ally of Faisal, his words bringing more than a few nods of vigorous agreement. Though Fouad’s son, it would normally be only as a man that Talal would take his seat at the family majlis. For Abdullah and Nasir to bring him in and be seen beside him, showed their clear intent in having him declared emir in place of his father. It was, in effect, a very public declaration of their loyalty. They knew that those both opposed and supportive would have already weighed the weight of their act. Though widely separated in age, both were highly regarded within the family and now the opponents of Talal knew something of what they were up against. Something, but not all, thought Nasir. He was well aware of two major surprises awaiting the assembled family members, though only one would be used – provided that neither Talal’s life nor his position were threatened.
“Indeed, it would be several years too early were it not for his being his father’s heir, as agreed by us only a few months ago,” responded Abdullah firmly, his faint hopes of an easy agreement rapidly disappearing.
“There is surely no suggestion that we change that state of affairs?” asked Salem, a mid-ranking uncle of Nasir’s, whose favourite wife’s family were long-time business partners of both Firyal and Zahirah. He was one of the few who, suspiciously to many, had seemed unsurprised at the boy’s entry. The stony silence from certain sections of the room that greeted his words, however, told them all clearly that that was exactly what some intended – and it soon got a voice.
“Enough of this foolery! The times are too dangerous for us to be led by a boy!” Abdullah’s eyes turned towards the speaker, seated near him: his brother Husain, a burly, thickly bearded man, some years his junior.
“What is the alternative, brother?” Abdullah asked calmly; and, should too much space be given by the question and a rival name be prematurely thrown into the ring, proceeded to answer it for himself. “Do you yourself wish to put yourself forward in his place; become our next ruler? And would you have the family’s support?” he asked quietly. “I doubt it; some would support you, yes, but not all. Others would support someone else.” He paused and then continued quietly. “Others, a number of others, would offer support to yet different names and none would have enough support to carry the day and unite all factions. We would then find ourselves fighting amongst ourselves, weakening our line just when it must be strong. On the other hand, Talal as emir is someone we can all unite behind, stay united, and remain strong.”
“I myself would be a better choice, yes!” Husain flashed back. “But no, I say our brother Omar should become the head of our family!” The whole room seemed to draw in a sharp breath as one. Omar! He was not one of those thought of as a contender. Although he was a fierce and much admired fighter, he lacked the other skills needed in a leader. He was also known to have less family backing than any of the five front-runners, so why was Husain putting forward his name?
The question was never answered as the name itself was lost in the resulting uproar. It suddenly seemed as though everyone in the room was talking at once, as if they were afraid that should their name, or the name of their preferred candidate, be left too long out of contention it would be lost in the stampede towards another name.
Only a few kept silent, Nasir amongst them. He sensed that the room was not yet moving to any form of consensus and so forced himself to be silent. Should it become necessary he would speak, though the longer he, one of the youngest present, kept silent, the more that long silence would be noted approvingly and any words he did then utter would be listened to with more seriousness and respect.
Eventually Abdullah’s thin voice, aided by the robust support of one or two others, managed to bring some order back into the room. He was just about to invite further – orderly – discussion, when the initiative passed to another in the room.
“I do not believe the boy should be present,” said an elderly man seated across the circle from Abdullah, his thin features clearly showing his displeasure. “It is not seemly,” he added, encouraged by low murmur of agreement which, after a startled pause, rose up at his words.
“It is indeed unfortunate, as to discuss other names in front of him is difficult” murmured a younger man seated near him.
Abdullah, expecting the challenge, indeed he had been expecting it earlier, responded with surprising firmness. “No more unseemly than to discuss other names that may be put forward, when their owner is in the room! Perhaps they should also be asked to leave!” His curt tone and the obvious logic of his words silenced both the speakers and their supporters.
It was, he knew, t
estament to how strong Fouad’s grip had been on all aspects of Narashi life that they were actually talking about the succession. It was not unusual when the death of a ruler occurred for the state to rapidly fragment into bloody skirmishing, each rival fighting like rats in a sack for the supreme prize.
Reluctant to force a vote he was not yet at all sure of winning, Abdullah then silently acknowledged another who wished to speak.
And the long meeting continued well into the afternoon. As Nasir and Zahirah had foreseen, Nasim and Yusuf neutralised each other. Neither agreeing to give way to his kinsman, their fragmented support was nowhere near enough to carry them even near the throne.
There were still three remaining threats to Talal’s ascension, however, and by the end of the seventh hour, the picture there was beginning to become clear. Nothing had been said, overtly, but all in the room knew that one – Mahmoud – had peaked. He had, though, made a much stronger than expected showing and Zahirah and Firyal watching closely, thought that they’d miscalculated and that the basic weaknesses of his position, his birth and lack of true warrior status, were being ignored in favour of his other attributes. But then, slowly, one or both began to work against him and, almost invisibly, his strength also started to ebb away; though, again, nothing was said.
Swords of Arabia: Betrayal Page 4
