The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature)

by Bensalem Himmich

  Imam, now that you have crossed the borders into Egypt, you can see for yourself the tyrannical rule of al-Hakim and the ways in which he toys with the country and its people. And yet everything you have seen and heard so far is considerably less severe than the details of what remains concealed from view. You have known the Egyptians to be good folk; they resist tyranny whenever they can and rely on patience and humor when they cannot. But today, confronted by al-Hakim and all his Turkish troops and slaves, they find themselves powerless. Even their jokes only bring them vengeful attacks from the tyrant and misery and suffering as a consequence. Dear Imam, it is hard for me to sit and watch the Egyptian people resorting to silence and lassitude as deliberate strategies. It is all for fear that the slightest display of disapproval or levity may reach the eyes of al-Hakim’s spies. They have managed infiltrate houses and quarters alike, to such an extent that this poisonous atmosphere of espionage can even infect different members of a single family. If they are forced to live even for a short period in such circumstances, they will all become completely paranoid—God forbid!—and that is a terrible fate!

  Imam, the entire Egyptian people, crushed and terrified as it is, now eagerly awaits the end of this disastrous period, an end that will come through your actions, all with the will and help of God. They regard your blessed advent to Egypt, armed with the twin weapons of power and speed, as the agent of their salvation. We Sicilians, along with the Kutamis, are raising people’s hopes for your success and bolstering their courage by trusting in you and in Him to whom is the power and majesty. But, I beg you by God, do not use the slogan of “deliberate speed” to veil your eyes or fetter your hands. In the present circumstances moving too slowly may turn out to be an irresponsible act. If that happens, then so much the worse for you! Don’t imagine that al-Hakim the tyrant is ignoring you; to the contrary, you have his full attention. Recently, he’s been spending all his time and energy on devising ways to bring you down. The only people he meets are those who wish you ill. All his mental energies are concentrated on tricks and ruses. For example, totally contrary to his normal practice, he has started displaying signs of a fake sense of justice and fairness in his decisions. God fight him, he has even stopped sentencing people to death, Beyond that, he has started importing mercenaries from Syria to protect himself against you; he gives them all sorts of gifts, thus depleting his own resources and those of the treasury, What I am most afraid of is that weak-hearted people, those who have despaired of ever achieving any kind of release or happiness, will be taken in by his trickery. To avoid this disaster, something that would result in a yet more generalized distrust and a full-scale catastrophe, I’m sending my own son with this letter. I beg you, by God. to lead your warriors to us without delay. With our aid you can achieve that great victory that God has promised against the forces of the tyrant. From today we will be awaiting the arrival of your army by the western gates of Cairo. We will prepare the terrain, provide food and ammunition, and recruit as many cavalry and infantry as we can muster. Victory can come only from God; in Him we trust and to Him is the return. His peace be on you and on your companions and followers.

  “Alongside the signature of al-Husayn ibn Jawhar is that of his son-in-law, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz ibn al-Nu‘man al-Qayrawani, the Chief Judge of Egypt.

  “My people, now that you have heard the contents of this letter, do you feel the need for more discussion? Shall we proceed from one session to another, using due deliberation as a convenient way of turning caution and anticipation into sheer delay? Time, as I’m sure you’re all aware, is a double-edged sword: when we use it well, it serves to our advantage: but, when we waste the chances and benefits it offers us, then it turns against us. So then let us act wisely by using it to our advantage before it abandons us and gives our foes the benefit. Have I made my point? Tell me what you think about our current situation: should we be setting out tomorrow with God’s power and aid. or the day after?”

  A profound silence fell over the assembly, as though everyone was agreeing with what Abu Rakwa had just said. However, it was a time for action, not talk and discussion. It was ‘Ali ibn Jawhar who eventually broke the silence, “Dear colleagues, your silence is a genuine blessing. By God, it shows that you have all realized how serious the situation in Egypt really is. This short letter which my father has sent is all you need; there is no call for prolonged debate. Now you should all be rushing to prepare your riding animals and embark on this great campaign before this golden opportunity slips from our grasp. People are relying on you. The Sicilians and Maghribis are waiting with their two thousand men, all burning for action. It is God alone who grants success and power.”

  “God bless you, ‘Ali,” Abu Rakwa said in a tone that blended gratitude with resolve, “and likewise your father and your fellow people! Now then, how many fighters do we have and how much ammunition?”

  “Imam,” responded Shihab al-Din immediately, “we have six thousand fighters in Barqa and its environs—Banu Qurra, Zanatis, Mizatis, Luwatis, with two thousand cavalry and the rest infantry. A small troop has been fully trained to hurl rocks and fire arrows, while another one specializes in diverting the enemy with skirmishes and feints. Apart from those, all our fighters are good at hand-to-hand combat and set-piece battles.”

  “Imam,” continued Hammu, “the ammunition situation is, thank God, excellent. Every warrior carries his sword, dagger, and shield, cavalry and infantry alike. We have enough swords and arrows in reserve for several days of fighting. If we stick to our current policy of moderation, there won’t be any shortage of food or water.”

  “What about al-Hakim’s army?” someone asked from the assembly. “What do we know about their numbers and ammunition. Tell us about the foe we face before we actually confront him—may God reward you!”

  Everyone looked at Abu Rakwa, then at ‘Ali ibn Jawhar. It was the latter who responded.

  “Men,” he said in clipped tones, “the Fatimid army without our allies, the Sicilians and Kutamis from the Maghrib, is like a straw tiger; its various subdivisions are at odds with each other. The only motivation they have is money and largesse. The contingents of Turks, Byzantines, slaves, Hamdani youths, and Bedouin louts, only exceed you in their weakness. On a decisive day of battle such as this, neither ammunition, nor drums, nor trumpets will be of any use to such an army, devoid as it is of either creed or faith.”

  ‘Ali ibn Jawhar’s words were greeted with cries of approval and praise. They continued until someone else asked the following question, “Can you tell us about the march toward Cairo where this battle is to take place? What’s the terrain like’.’ Then we can assess how tiring the journey will be.”

  At this point Abu Rakwa produced a map from his sleeve.

  “I’ve already asked that question of those who are well acquainted with the route from Barqa to the outskirts of Alexandria.” said Abu Rakwa as he was spreading out the map. “I agree with their view that we should stick to the coast, then head south toward Cairo where, aided by God’s power, we will engage in our first battle. Our journey toward our goal will not take longer than a month and will not involve any hardships. This map which Shaykh Zaydan of the Mazata has kindly provided for me shows the most important stages in our march to Alexandria. Take it, Yahya, and read out what it shows.”

  Yahya stepped forward with a yawn, took the map, and pretended to be looking at it. “Imam,” he said, “I know by heart every single detail of the route to the outskirts of Alexandria. We’ll go by way of Qasr al-Nadama, then to Taknist, Maghar al-Raqim, Halima’s well, Wadi Makhil, the well of the Square, Jinad al-Saghir, the well of ‘Abdallah, Marj al-Shaykh, then to ‘Aqaba, the shops of Abu Halima, the ruins of al-Qawm, the palace of al-Shammas, the road of the Hammam, the well of ‘Awsaj. the churches of al-Harir, al-Tahuna, Hinniyyat al-Rum, Dhat al-Hamam, Thuniya, and finally Alexandria. That’s the shortest and most direct route. There are twenty-one stages, and it is about five hundred and seventy-two miles. That’s
not written on the map find knows best.”

  “Young man,” said Shaykh Zaydan the Mazati, sounding tired, “God has indeed taught you to assess things correctly. The distance from Barqa to Alexandria is exactly as you have described it. It’s not a hard trip as long as drinking water, above and below ground, is available at the staging posts. God is the provider of benefits, and He is our helper. From Alexandria to Giza in the environs of Cairo itself, it’s all plain. The distance is no more than two hundred and fifty miles. Isn’t that right, ‘Ali ibn Jawhar?”

  “Yes indeed, sage shaykh,” ‘Ali replied by way of confirmation. “The only thing I can add is good news: your ranks will be swelled by allies and supporters wherever you travel and alight during your journey to Cairo.”

  Abu Rakwa now looked round at the assembled group, giving the impression that he was keen to finish the session. “So now you can all bear witness to the fact that our Mazati shaykh’s wisdom extends to measuring distances as well. As God wills, and He is the best of providers. My people, if we’ve asked all the necessary questions, then let’s leave the conclusions we may draw to the inspiration of the battlefield itself. Now I ask you all to recite the Fatiha before we pray. Then we will all part in anticipation of our meeting again at dawn tomorrow, when our forces will set out on this holy campaign.”

  With that everyone recited the Fatiha in a spirit of humble devotion, then went back downstairs to perform the evening prayer. After that they all went to their beds and slept with their families and relatives.

  Next morning, having said farewell to families and loved ones, Abu Rakwa’s army was ready to set off on its march. No sooner had Abu Rakwa mounted his camel and surveyed the ranks of warriors that he started to intone “God is great,” to which the entire assemblage responded in kind. Then he commanded people to mount their camels and horses in alternation, to cooperate and to conduct themselves in good order. Finally he himself moved to the front and gave the signal for departure. With green flags fluttering over their troops, and the ululations of women, the cries of children, wounded, and infirm bidding them a fond farewell, the whole army began to move off. Once they had left Barqa, they passed the time either singing fight songs and religious chants or resorting to silence and simple conversation. Thus they traveled from stage to stage, ten hours a day or more, only dismounting to pray or for a much needed rest.

  For the first few days Abu Rakwa was unable to mount his camel or horse without feeling an odd sense of alarm. He kept having terrible visions, betrayals that demolished all his carefully laid plans and secrets; his entire army defeated and rent apart; his men in the thick of battle failing dead and wounded as they confronted enormous armies extending further than the eye could see. In order to ward off these discouraging visions he used to seek refuge in God; he would dismount and walk for hours, all the while chanting Qur’anic verses. Once remounted, he would chat with ‘Ali ibn Jawhar about Egypt and its physical environment or else yell out to Shihab al-Din, “Is Hamad al-Madi really such a thorn in our feet?” to which Shihab al-Din would reply, “He is indeed, Imam, but—with God’s might—we’ll extract the thorn and chop it off.”

  After covering a little over half the total distance, the marching forces entered Kinana territory. There they exchanged blessings and thanks, especially when the people of the region welcomed them with greetings and jubilation instead of resistance and antipathy: rather than recalcitrance and stones they offered the visitors dates and milk. All these positive signs calmed Abu Rakwa down, and he began to feel much more upbeat. With all his misgivings and worries behind him, he started shouting to ‘Ali ibn Jawhar, Shihab al-Din, and others as well, with questions such as, “Can these favorable signs be false promises? As we proceed on our way, can it all be a dream or are we actually awake? I beg you all, by God, you soldiers of charity and mercy, answer me.” The entire assembly would respond that the signs were indeed (rue; it was indeed all real, not a dream. It was Shaykh Zaydan of the Mazati who took things even further. “Conjecture has no role in this matter,” he said, “The entire basis of religious belief lies in complete certainty. Don’t flay the bear till you have caught it.” “How right you are, Zaydan,” said Abu Rakwa by way of confirmation. “The opinion of a shaykh is worth more than the visual testimony of a young man.”

  About one month after the warriors had set out, their platoons reached the valleys of Alexandria. In order to avoid conflict with the city garrison, they followed Abu Rakwa’s instructions to turn rapidly south toward Cairo. Some twenty miles from their goal they set up camp for the night, the aim being to get some rest and make necessary preparations. Next morning, Tuesday, they decided to divide the army into two detachments: one of them, commanded by the imam himself, would attack and occupy al-Giza; the other, commanded by Shihab al-Din, Hammu, and Yahya, would smash al-Hakim’s army in al-Fayyum. The two detachments would then reassemble at the Pyramids before entering Cairo itself. “This way,” Abu Rakwa explained, “we’ll be able to weaken the enemy’s vanguard and rear first and then confront him in his own back yard.” That then was how things were decided, accompanied by praises to God and promises to meet up and move on to victory. The men in each detachment proceeded confidently toward their target, each one prepared to sacrifice himself for the cause.

  The sun had hardly set on that renowned Tuesday before Abu Rakwa’s army reassembled, as prearranged, at the Pyramids. News of victory spread among the warriors. The imam asked for information about the number of dead and wounded. “A hundred and thirty martyrs,” Shihab al-Din replied, “and sixty wounded. Those are our losses in men, a mere fifth of the enemy’s losses.” “However,” Hammu continued, “one of those who fell was Yahya, may God have mercy on his pure soul.” Abu Rakwa gave thanks to God and called for mercy on the souls of the martyrs. He then asked about the new contingents that had joined the army.

  “Great Imam,” ‘Ali ibn Jawhar informed him, “the Maghribi and Sicilian soldiers that my father promised you began the battle pretending to fight against your fighters, but they soon joined them and turned their swords on the enemy instead. They played a major role in these initial victories of ours. I am now serving as their commander under your orders, all on behalf of my father who is currently hiding in some unknown place within the gates of Cairo.”

  By now Abu Rakwa had received information from his aides that it would be impossible to storm Cairo because of the height of the walls and the fact that the gates were closed.

  “We will never forget the role the Maghribis and Sicilians have played,” he said. “As you can see, we have defeated al-Hakim’s army under the command of ‘Ali ibn Fallah. However, the battle is not yet won. We still have to capture Cairo where the root of the problem lies. What do you all think?”

  “Great imam,” said Shihab al-Din with Hammu’s support, “I think we have to subject Cairo to a terrible siege so as to force al-Hakim and his army either to come out and fight us or else raise the flag of surrender.”

  “I think he’s right,” Hammu went on. “We don’t have the means to scale or breach the walls of this impregnable city, and we certainly don’t want to expose the inhabitants to a communal slaughter with the direst possible consequences.”

  Abu Rakwa looked somewhat distraught. “And what about you, Shaykh Zaydan?” he asked. “Why aren’t you giving us your opinion? Tell us what we should do.”

  Zaydan hesitated for a moment. “Great imam,” he said with a frown, “the best decision is whatever everyone agrees on, and that needs to be based on good information. Neither I myself nor, I suspect, you know very much about what the enemy is planning. Since that’s the case, how am I supposed to make a decision and pretend that it’s based on some kind of sound reasoning? ‘Ali ibn Jawhar, you know more than anyone else about this terrain. Supposing we maintained the siege and there were no fights or squabbles amongst us, how long could the city of Cairo hold out against us?”

  ‘Ali ibn Jawhar responded immediately, as though he had had
the reply ready for some time. “To be quite blunt,” he said. “I don’t believe besieging Cairo will work to our advantage, Al-Hakim is protected by loyal servants and has nothing to fear from his unarmed and debilitated populace. His coffers and granaries hold enough food and goods to last for a few years. If we conduct a prolonged siege, the primary danger for us will come from Syria. Al-Hakim is offering rewards and incentives to foreign troops. Turks, savage Bedouin, and even Byzantine mercenaries. That likelihood is confirmed by all the information that I’ve been getting from our trustworthy allies. We may have defeated and scattered al-Hakim’s army in Upper Egypt, but they are now regrouping in the desert by al-Fayyum under the command of al-Fadl ibn Salih, and he’s renowned for his strategic skills and cunning. The incredible number of reinforcements arriving daily from Syria is making this army steadily stronger. Beyond all that, we face yet another danger if we start a long siege: our own ranks will be infiltrated by informers and spies, not to mention people who will spread false rumors, discord, and dissent. That’s my opinion, and God knows best of all. It is you who have the authority to decide.”

  ‘Ali ibn Jawhar had barely finished speaking before a din was heard outside. Abu Rakwa asked what was going on. Suddenly a group of men approached, surrounding a man who was dressed exactly like them. They told Abu Rakwa this man was a spy, and he had been caught red-handed. On him they had found documents and purses full of coins and gold pieces. Shihab al-Din seized the documents and purses. Abu Rakwa meanwhile told the soldiers to return to their positions, then ordered the spy to state his own name and mission, and that of the person who had sent him. For a moment the spy stood his ground, not saying a word. But then Hammu threatened him with his sword.

  “I am one of Hamad al-Madi’s men,” the man replied. “I’ve been working for al-Fadl ibn Salih for some time. Al-Madi ordered me to infiltrate your army and pass on information. I’ve managed to do that and have recorded everything I’ve seen in these documents. The purses are intended to bribe your soldiers, persuade them to betray you and join al-Hakim’s army in the al-Fayyum desert. That’s all I can tell you about my mission. Now do with me what you will.”