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

by Bensalem Himmich

  “So you’re just like that cursed wretch, Hamad al-Madi!” said Hammu in a tone that blended malice and insult. “You’re from the Banu Qurra, aren’t you?”

  “You’re wrong,” the man replied. “I’m a Syrian Bedouin. I’ve taken part in many wars by disguising myself and trading information. If you are interested, my name is …”

  “We’re not interested in your name,” interrupted Abu Rakwa, “just tell us everything you know about al-Hakim’s army. If you do, we’ll spare your life. If what you tell us is useful, we’ll set you free. If you can identify spies and traitors working among us, we’ll give you back your purses before you leave.”

  “Imam, you can have all the information you and your colleagues want. Al-Fadl’s army has close to ten thousand soldiers: the numbers keep increasing, as does the ordinance to back them up. The strategists have all agreed that time is on their side and they can afford to let you languish outside Cairo’s gates, while you dream of launching an assault and discuss methods of mounting a siege. It’s their view that every day that passes enhances their position while yours gets progressively weaker as you wait and lose hope. They’re planning to send out spies to infiltrate your ranks and persuade your soldiers either to desert and join al-Hakim’s army or go back the way they came. In addition to finding out as much information about your troops as possible, I was also commissioned to look for men who would be prepared to kill you, Abu Rakwa, for a substantial reward. There may well be people like me and other traitors in your midst, but I have absolutely no information about them. I am not so malicious that I would betray innocent people for my own benefit.”

  Abu Rakwa took two purses back from Shihab al-Din and tossed them to the spy.

  “Untie this man’s hands,” he told some soldiers, “give him a horse and some provisions, and let him go back whence he came. As for you, spy. go back and tell your masters that we remain steadfast. It is our intention to besiege Cairo till we win it or die in the process.”

  Abu Rakwa’s aides looked astonished and perplexed, all except Zaydan. “Bravo, Imam!” he whispered to Abu Rakwa as soon as the spy had left. “War is all treachery. That spy seemed happy enough with what he got. He’ll be able to convince his masters that we plan to stay here, exactly in accordance with their own assumptions and calculations. But now, friends, our own path is clear, and the plan is in place. The spy for al-Hakim’s generals has managed to provide us with the information that was missing from ‘Ali ibn Jawhar’s report. Do you alt agree that we should leave al-Giza and take out troops early tomorrow to the al-Fayyum desert? Once there, we’ll be able to surprise the enemy and clip their wings before they have a chance to bolster their numbers any furthers

  “Victorious imam,” the aides responded in unison, “that is clearly the best plan.”

  “So then, let us all put our trust in God. Take a brief rest, then prepare for tomorrow.”

  Tents were erected, and some of the fighters who were either exhausted or wounded made use of them. Many soldiers in the field took brief catnaps, with local men from the Kutamis keeping a rotating watch. Abu Rakwa himself sat down on a palm-trunk, having expended a lot of his own energy in persuading his companions to leave him alone and get some rest.

  The imam was well aware that on a night such as this he would not be able to sleep; the situation was critical, and there was no lack of things to keep him awake. In difficult times such as these all he could do was suppress all noxious thoughts by reciting Qur’anic verses or contemplating the stars in the heavens. Once in a while he would close his eyes, not so much to try the impossible by getting some sleep, but rather to search his memory for a previous episode of chronic insomnia. However, he could not recall one, and that made him realize why, from now on, he would never be without a dagger or sword in his hand. “Here I am then,” he muttered several times in a bitter tone, “gradually becoming even more scared of revolution than I used to be of getting rich. I can smell the presence of traitors in our midst, yet I can’t trace a single one of them! Like any caliph and amir, Abu Rakwa is falling prey to delusions, doubts, and panic. He realizes that safety valves can explode at any moment when exposed to the combined pressures of the unknown and critical situations.” The imam found himself obsessed by these thoughts one after the other, and each one was worse than its predecessor. He decided to squelch them all by standing up and pacing around the area. He kept chiding himself for nursing such melancholy ideas and cursing the evil in his soul. For a while he managed to maintain this frame of mind, but then he started yelling out loud, “Ye people! Wake up, soldiers of God! Prayer is better than sleep; rise up to salvation! Rise up to fight for a cause where there is no slumber! Men, rise up to salvation!”

  The imam’s shouts woke up all the soldiers and animals. His aides tried to calm him down, but he rounded on them. “Weren’t you the ones,” he yelled, “who wanted to move quickly to the decisive battle? By God, sleep interrupted by worries and anxieties is useless. After today our only rest will come with victory. Order our fighters to muster and prepare their riding animals. God willing, we will head for the field of battle immediately after the dawn prayer.”

  The imam’s aides did not dare challenge his call for a swift departure. With heads bowed they ranged themselves behind him like all the other soldiers and performed the dawn prayer with dispatch. As they prepared to move off toward the al-Fayyum desert, an amazing aura of silence descended on the troops, only broken by the padding of feet and muted voices. As they advanced, Abu Rakwa forced himself to lighten his expression so as to encourage his troops. He made a big effort to squeeze shoulders and smile encouragingly at everyone.

  The forces were now just a few miles short of the battlefield. Abu Rakwa ordered a brief halt so they could snatch a brief rest and recover their strength. Shihab al-Din made use of this lull to take the imam aside. He reluctantly informed the imam that some soldiers had already deserted to the enemy camp. Before he had even finished relaying this information, Hammu came rushing up.

  “Seventy deserters, Imam,” he said. “I’ve confirmed those numbers, and I know each one of them by name.”

  Abu Rakwa rubbed his hands together. “So those purses have done their job with weak-willed hypocrites!” he sighed. “A little enjoyment, and then they will face a dire punishment, “

  “They are all from the Banu Qurra,” said Hammu, continuing his detail. “Seventy hypocrites, God shame them!”

  These insulting words made Shihab al-Din very angry. “That’s isn’t totally accurate,” he argued. “For sure, some of those deserters include people tempted by Satan himself; they’re the minority. As for the rest, I’ve dispatched them myself to infiltrate enemy ranks and get information. They’ll try to influence our brothers and fellow Arabs in al-Hakim’s army. Only people from our tribe could be entrusted with such a task, The Zanatis certainly could not do it…”

  At this point Abu Rakwa interrupted. By now Shaykh Zaydan and ‘Ali ibn Jawhar had joined the group.

  “A pox on all your squabbles and arguments! Is this a time for rows and insults, or for pulling together in the common cause? Every fighter should realize that faith is on our side and money is on theirs. We’ll see which one is more marketable. Should we win, it will be the fulfillment of our desires. If we perish, then we are God’s and to Him do we return.”

  “You have spoken the truth. Imam,” said Shaykh Zaydan. “At times such as these, people who try to proceed in the midst of discord and doubt come to a gruesome end. We must move boldly forward, relying on our swords and steadfast will and on Him who alone possesses the might and majesty. Now ‘Ali ibn Jawhar has some good news for us.”

  “Great imam,” said ‘Ali ibn Jawhar, his voice wavering between happiness and caution, “some of our informants who managed to infiltrate the enemy camp have now returned. They’ve told us that the enemy knows a good deal about our numbers and equipment. The leaders of the Arab troops who are currently fighting for al-Hakim have promised t
o join our forces at the decisive moment in the battle. Now all we need to worry about is Hamad al-Madi’s spies and the unforeseen tricks and stratagems that al-Fadl ibn Salih, the enemy commander, has up his sleeve.”

  Abu Rakwa remounted his horse and drew his sword. “They schemed and God schemed, and God is the best of schemers. Mount your horses and arrange the army in platoons so they can attack in waves. Then we can restrict the terrain that the enemy can use; they can either fight the big battle or surrender. Tell the Arab leaders to come to us tonight so we can shake hands and promise them Syria as their own land in return for reinforcing our numbers and granting victory to the cause of truth. Now, follow my lead as we achieve what God has promised to those who fight in His path”

  With that, Abu Rakwa’s army advanced in tight formation and covered the ground between them and al-Fadl’s camp in short order. They ranged all over the battlefield; the glint of their swords had a debilitating effect on the enemy troops. Once in a while Abu Rakwa penetrated the enemy ranks, engaged with the enemy’s best fighters and killed them, then returned to a safe place where he would consult with his aides and hear their reports. The third day of Dhu al-Hijja was barely over before victory was tilting in favor of Abu Rakwa’s forces. However the exultation that Abu Rakwa and his companions felt was tempered by a sense of alarm? whenever they heard about the mercenary soldiers al-Hakim had employed to bolster and rescue his army. It was obvious that they badly needed the Arab forces to keep their promise by joining Abu Rakwa’s forces without delay.

  “On the appointed night, al-Fadl summoned the Arab leaders to break their fast with him. He made it clear that he had been fasting himself and forced them to wait a while. Then he had the food brought in, and they all ate and talked. Al-Fadl had sent a battalion toward Abu Rakwa’s forces, and the two groups had fought. News of this reached the camp. The Arab leaders were all anxious to get back to their troops, but al-Fadl prevented them. Instead he sent word to their Arab colleagues that they should mount and go into battle; these latter had no idea of the pact that the Arab chiefs had already reached with Abu Rakwa. So they went into battle…. Al-Hakim sent an open letter to al-Fadl, stating that Abu Rakwa had been defeated, and another secret one with details of what the actual situation was. Al-Fadl now made a big show of delight at the defeat of Abu Rakwa, in order to calm people down.

  “Meanwhile Abu Rakwa had headed for a heavily wooded area known as “the bog,” with al-Fadl in pursuit. Abu Rakwa hid among the trees and proceeded to attack al-Fadl’s troops. Abu Rakwa’s army now started pulling back so as to entice al-Fadl’s soldiers toward the ambush. However, when the troops in the wood saw their colleagues retreating, they assumed they had been defeated and joined them in their retreat. They were mowed down by al-Fadl’s soldiers, and many thousands were killed.”15

  The marshy woods were strewn with the corpses and wounded of both armies, and warm blood nourished the soil. The rest of Abu Rakwa’s army was now confronted with a significant obstacle, one that required the conflict to be shifted into more open space. The fighting raged on with no relief, but eventually Abu Rakwa managed to break out and ordered his companions to withdraw with him. Some of them managed to do so, but others were cither killed or taken prisoner during the ambush.

  Abu Rakwa and his followers sped southward toward Nubian territory. There they stopped for a while to regroup, take stock of what had happened, and decide what needed to be done next, but everyone was so completely exhausted that they could not think clearly or talk for any length of time. Just before sunset on the last of these grimmest of days, Abu Rakwa was still staring at the faces of about a hundred of his surviving followers. He looked for any signs of hatred or anger, but found none. To the contrary, all of them quietly and firmly advised him to return with them to Barqa. Once there, they could regroup and prepare for a new war against al-Hakim the Fatimid caliph. He listened to their advice with a smile.

  “Heaven forbid, beloved friends,” he said, “that I should return to Barqa defeated! The forthcoming campaign against Fatimid tyranny is entrusted to your hands. Choose another imam from among you who can take from me whatever is useful and benefit from the mistakes I have made.”

  As night fell, Abu Rakwa asked for pen and paper and started writing his last will and testament. It was as though he were saying farewell to the world and human beings and expediting the final episode in his rich and full life. Hardly had he penned the final word before Hammu and Shihab al-Din rode up, exhausted and out of breath. They dismounted and embraced Abu Rakwa, who hugged them back and praised God for their survival. Abu Rakwa mentioned the names of Shaykh Zaydan, ‘Ali ibn Jawhar, and others as well.

  “All of them have either fallen as martyrs,” Hammu interrupted, “or else been taken prisoner by the enemy. But now, Imam, we must return to Barqa. We have to move quickly before al-Fadl’s troops catch us unawares. There’s no need for us to die that way.”

  From a bag he was carrying Shihab al-Din now produced a severed head covered in blood. “Here, Imam,” he said. “is the head of Hamad al-Madi, that accursed traitor. I cut it off with my own sword. We can display it round Barqa and its environs as an example to all renegades and dissemblers. I think it best for you and all of us to return to Barqa as quickly as possible. Once there we can assess our situation and make preparations for another battle against al-Hakim the Fatimid. What do you think, Abu Rakwa?”

  The soldiers were all lined up, ready to leave. Deep in his heart Abu Rakwa realized that, by going with them, he would inevitably be causing their deaths, all as part of a losing battle against the forces who were rushing to take him prisoner. Even so, he managed to put on an optimistic air.

  “Dear friends.” he said with a confident smile, “now it’s up to all of you to continue this campaign, an unending fight for the cause of truth. Return to the people of Barqa and convey to them my greetings and love. Pledge them to victory with or without me. That in all its brevity is my testament to you. Let it be read out to the young people in Barqa, and let them interpret its message as a victory for truth and justice. It will serve as a token of loyalty between you and me, and between me and them. It’s the foundation stone, so use it to erect an edifice of those very values and principles that have brought us all together. Take it with you, and may safety be your companion* For my part I will now seek refuge with the king of Nubia till the crisis is past and the shock of it all diminishes somewhat. The king is a merciful and decent man who honors guests and respects the requests of all those who seek protection and safety in his domains. I ask God to protect you from all evil; He—may He be exalted—is hearer and answerer.”

  With that Abu Rakwa embraced Shihab al-Din and Hammu; they all exchanged hugs and kisses. The two men were so totally overwhelmed with emotion that they were unable to speak. Abu Rakwa then embraced every single soldier. That done, he mounted his horse and set off for Nubia. When he had disappeared from sight, his surviving companions mounted their horses and headed speedily toward Barqa.

  As Abu Rakwa was making his way toward his destination, he managed to overcome his exhaustion and detach himself from his bodily needs. A faint echo was all he heard of his own heartbeats and the clopping of his horse’s hooves. With reddened eyes he stared at the brilliant colors on the horizon and communicated his yeanling for a swift arrival. When he reached the borders of Nubia, he was welcomed by the crown prince who greeted him with great honor and invited him to stay till the end of Dhu al-Hijja. After that he hid Abu Rakwa in the Abu Shanuda monastery where he spent the first two months of the new year fighting off his sense of loneliness and despair with sleep, prayer, and fasting. At the beginning of Rabi‘ al-Awwal his host came to see him.

  “Honorable guest,” he said in an emotional, yet humble tone, “my father passed away at dawn today. He has left me a throne under threat, since I cannot risk a war against al-Hakim the Fatimid. Messengers from al-Fadl are at the gate of the palace demanding that I hand you over. They swear that their l
ord is only interested in your safety and in helping you get back to your homeland safe and sound. Honorable sir, tell me what you wish to do.”

  The new king had hardly finished talking before Abu Rakwa was preparing to surrender himself to the party that had come for him. “The imminent is imminent. Only God can disclose it,” he intoned before going out to them. “Every soul tastes death. You will receive your rewards on the Day of Resurrection. God have mercy on your father, young man, and give you the benefit of his memory and good works. Now I go to meet those who have neither faith nor morality. My best wishes to you. Farewell!”

  As Abu Rakwa made his way out of the main gate of the castle, his face was radiant and uplifted. He mounted his finest horse and gave al-Fadl’s avenging angels a look of mercy and forgiveness. Once he was level with them, be took off at a gallop with them following in sheepish silence. In such a fashion they reached al-Fadl’s headquarters in an oasis shaded by lofty palm trees. Al-Fadl’s soldiers greeted him with deference and took him to their commander’s tent which was opulently furnished and carpeted with expensive rugs. Al-Fadl accorded him an elaborate welcome at the entrance, then sat him down on a plush sofa. Upon the clap of his hands servants appeared with plates of dates and cups of milk. He invited his guest to take his fill.

  “We welcome you among us, noble shaykh,” al-Fadl said. “From today you’re our guest. You have but to ask for something, and we’ll grant your wish.”

  Abu Rakwa gave al-Fadl a dubious look, followed by a sardonic smile. “So, Fadl,” he asked, “what’s the meaning of this lavish welcome? I’ll take some of your nice food since I’m quite sure you haven’t put any poison in it.”