Before the Throne

by Mahfouz, Naguib

  “I praise you as liberator and a son of the people,” said Abnum. “But I do wonder what caused your uprising to fail?”

  “The caliph’s power was overwhelming,” answered Samaan al-Gargawi. “We were a small, isolated people who had lost the martial spirit. And we lacked the participation of our brothers who had switched to Islam—which made them loyal to the caliph.”

  “This invasion from within had never happened before,” replied Abnum.

  “Go to your Christian trial,” Osiris said, “with our praise and blessings.”

  47

  HORUS HERALDED, “Halim al-Aswani!”

  A tall, withered man walked in his winding sheet until he stood before the throne.

  Osiris requested his testimony.

  “I was a fruits-and-vegetables seller from a large family, half of which converted to Islam. As it happened, the leadership of the Muslims had shifted to a new family—during my time there was a caliph called Abu Jaafar al-Mansur. A series of governors came in succession, none of them lasting more than a year, sometimes less. There was no chance for anyone to think of reform. Things deteriorated to the point that the Copts revolted in Sakha. Conditions got so bad that plague and famine reigned until the people were eating both their animals and each other.”

  “How did the Muslims fare in this?” the Sage Ptahhotep inquired.

  “They suffered as we did,” answered al-Aswani. “They grew so extremely bitter that they accused the governor of violating the sharia, the sacred law. Regardless of our religious differences, our feelings were united, but those in power were stronger than all of us together.”

  “If you had all adopted the faith of the One God, then that would have saved you,” claimed Akhenaten.

  “The problem was one of bread, not of God,” Abnum corrected him.

  “Perhaps you will find justice in your final trial,” Osiris consoled him.

  48

  HORUS CALLED OUT, “Sulayman Tadros!”

  A thickset man of medium height came in, walking until he stood before the throne.

  Osiris asked him to speak.

  “A skilled engraver,” said Sulayman Tadros, “I lived through the rule of four caliphs: al-Mahdi, al-Hadi, al-Rashid, and al-Ma’mun. And tens of governors all in a row, most of them conquered by wantonness, bribery, and oppressiveness. In their day, numerous uprisings broke out, and in some of them the Copts—the native Egyptians—both Christian and Muslim, and the Arabs, would all unite against the persecution, cooperating with each other to drive it out. Finally, al-Ma’mun himself came to restore order, and justice prevailed. Conditions improved for all the people, whatever their religion.”

  “Did you join any revolutions?” asked Abnum.

  “No, but I lost a son in one of them,” Sulayman Tadros replied.

  “Seemingly, things were moving in a new track,” said the Sage Ptahhotop.

  “You truly deserve our empathy,” said Osiris. “Go to your final trial in peace.”

  49

  HORUS HERALDED, “Musa, secretary to Ahmad ibn Tulun!”

  A tallish man came in and stood before the throne.

  Osiris invited him to speak.

  “A Christian Copt,” commenced Musa, “The Lord granted me knowledge and skill, and the viceroy, Ahmad ibn Tulun, chose me as his private secretary. He was not an Arab, but was appointed in the caliphate of al-Muatamid ibn al-Mutawakkil. Thereafter he sought to solidify his own rule of the country. It was not only as though Egypt had regained her independence, but had annexed Syria and parts of Asia Minor, as well. He resolutely strove for reform and development, while upholding piety and justice, spreading his protective umbrella over the Muslims, Christians, and Jews alike—they all extolled his praise. He would sit for two days each week with those who had been wronged, just as in the days of the Right-Guided Caliphs.

  “That is why, when Ibn Tulun fell very ill, everyone came out to the top of the Muqattam Mountain. The Muslims brought their Qur’an, the Christians their Gospels, and the Jews their Torah, all praying for his recovery!”

  “Did the Coptic Christians profit by working for the governor?” asked the Sage Ptahhotep.

  “His choosing me proved that he believed in religious equality,” answered Musa. “So sure was I that he did believe in it, that even when I proposed Christian engineers to build his mosques and fortresses, I was looking for the right people, not playing favorites. The just ruler will extract the best from his helpers, and be an example to them.”

  “And how were the relations between the sects?” asked the wise Imhotep, vizier to King Djoser.

  “Very good indeed, as is only appropriate in the reign of a fair-minded ruler,” said “During Ibn Tulun’s rule, Egypt became one single people, but of three religions. And Islam began to spread more, and to gain more converts.”

  Thoth, Scribe of the Gods, sought permission to pose a question—and it was granted. “Why did Ibn Tulun imprison Patriarch Michael of Alexandria?” he asked Musa.

  “That was not his fault,” Musa replied, “but a plot by a malicious archbishop named Sakka, who told Ibn Tulun that the patriarch was hoarding enormous wealth, far beyond his needs. So Ibn Tulun demanded that Michael give up part of his treasure at a time when the viceroy was girding to fight off foreign armies. When the patriarch said that he did not have such sums to give, he was arrested on a charge of treason. But then Ibn Tulun’s son, Khumarawayh, succeeded him: he discovered the truth and set Michael free, and brought him back to his post with honors.

  “But the heirs of Ibn Tulun were neither as strong nor as iron-willed as him. Fortune turned against their state, and Egypt again looked to the future with anxious eyes.”

  “You have presented a splendid account,” Osiris told him. “May peace go with you.”

  50

  HORUS HAILED, “Ali Sundus!”

  A powerfully built man of middling height walked in, halting before the throne.

  Osiris asked him to speak.

  “A water carrier, I lived most of my life under the Ikhshidid rulers,” Ali Sundus told the court. “Egypt had gone back to the fold of the Abbasids—and again, scores of viceroys came and went in succession, each inflicting injustices upon the Egyptians, whether Christians or Muslims. Finally, Muhammad al-Utfayh, a Mamluk descended from the kings of Farghana, took up our affairs. He made Egypt independent, and called himself ‘the Ikhshid,’ the customary title among the kings in his country. He drove away those who had designs on Egypt, and in each of his campaigns, urged the Christians to fight alongside him.

  “Then power passed to his vizier, the eunuch Kafur, who called himself ‘al-Ikhshidi’ too. During his reign, Egypt possessed both the Hijaz and Syria. He purged the land of corrupt officials, and the nation flourished under his rule.”

  “How could you tolerate being ruled by a castrated slave?” said Ramesses II.

  “All that mattered to us as Muslims,” replied Ali Sundus, “is that he was a fair servant. A just slave is better than an oppressive prince.”

  “And just how does a slave surpass a prince?” Ramesses II answered rhetorically.

  “By worshiping the One God,” lectured Akhenaten. “All my life I appealed for human equality—only to be told that I was mad.”

  “May peace be with you in your Islamic proceeding,” said Osiris to Ali Sundus.

  51

  HORUS CALLED OUT, “Ibn Qulaqis!”

  A short, flabby man walked in and stood before the throne.

  Osiris bid him address the court.

  “I am Abul Fatah Nasrallah ibn Abdullah, known as Ibn Qulaqis al-Lakhmi al-Iskandari, nicknamed ‘the Mighty Judge.’ ”

  “A name longer than those of most pharaohs!” gasped Osiris.

  “My job was to moor the tall-masted ships at harbor, but I was also a poet. I visited the Maghreb and Sicily, praising their rulers in verse, just as I praised the Fatimids and the kings of Yemen. Egypt was my country, Islam was my homeland, and the art of praise my bo
on fortune. Hence my ode in panegyric to Yasir ibn Bilal, which opens thus:

  Sail ever onward to your great fate / The infant crescent has grown to full moon

  The water is kind to him who skims it / But evil to him who settles.

  “And it is I who also said:

  Gaze on the sun as over the Nile it’s sinking—

  More amazing when followed by the redness of evening.”

  “Tell me about the time in which you lived,” Osiris ordered him. “Poetry is judged in another venue.”

  “The Ikhshidid dynasty was overturned by the Fatimids without resort to war,” Ibn Qulaqis obliged Osiris. “They founded Cairo and al-Azhar, and improved the administration—bringing prosperity along with their reign. When al-Muizz li-Din Illah arrived, he received the nation’s elite, among them Ahmad ibn Tabataba, the scientist and man of letters. He asked the new caliph, ‘From whom did his lordship descend?’

  “Al-Muizz then drew his sword half-way from its scabbard. ‘This is my lineage,’ the caliph replied, distributing gold to those assembled. ‘And this is my nobility,’ he told them. To this they answered, ‘We have all heard and will obey.’ ”

  “Why didn’t you make your country independent after the Ikhshidids disappeared?” asked Abnum.

  “And why didn’t we split away when there was more than one Muslim caliph?” Ibn al-Qulaqis asked in return. “Independence means nothing to the Muslim—all he wants is a strong Muslim ruler who is also just. This we found under the Fatimids.”

  “When they swore their allegiance through gold and the sword?”

  “Can there be a state without those two things?” Ibn Qulaqis again asked. “The Fatimid age was crammed with knowledge, art, and construction, while the Christians enjoyed both trust and security. But the rule of al-Hakim bi-Amr Illah was unforgettable for its clashing contradictions. Once he would favor the Muslims and persecute the Copts, another time he would coddle the Copts while bashing the Muslims, and then he would just be horrible to them all. But their era ended in a deadly famine—their awe and glory were wiped away, as the people were struck with stunning calamities.”

  “Proceed to your trial with peace,” Osiris said to Ibn Qulaqis.

  52

  HORUS HERALDED, “The vizier Qaraqush!”

  A squat man walked in and stood before the throne.

  Osiris invited him to speak.

  “With the decline of the Fatimids,” Qaraqush replied, “Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi came to Egypt to create a new state and the Ayyubid dynasty. Working as his vizier, I witnessed his reforms inside the country—in bettering the administration, reducing the poll taxes, and enforcing justice. Likewise I saw his accomplishments abroad—in uniting the Arabs and waging war successfully against the foreign Christians. His uprightness among the knights made him a model of bravery, chivalry, honor, and greatness, while in all my own labors I strove to improve government and make it more fair. Yet I was called a despot, without the least basis in fact, for forcing the removal of many dwellings while building the wall around the city of Cairo. No just person has ever known such injustice as I have.”

  After seeking permission to speak, Thoth asked him, “Did you not strip stones from some of the pyramids to build your great wall, without respect for what the ancients had done?”

  “I removed some worthless pagan ruins,” Qaraqush retorted, “in order to build for the sake of God and His prophet.”

  “The grandchildren have forgotten their grandparents’ religion,” lamented Khufu. “They’re concerned with the present, not with the past.”

  “I consider them as believing in my God,” Akhenaten answered Khufu.

  “Salah al-Din’s successors were not his equals,” Qaraqush continued. “Christians from the north came to seize their glory. Damietta fell to them; they killed the men of Rosetta and desecrated the women. But in the end, they were defeated and left the country.”

  “The Ayyubid dynasty departed too,” added Isis, “the good and the bad along with it.”

  “Take our thanks to your final trial,” Osiris said to the vizier Qaraqush.

  53

  HORUS HAILED, “al-Shihab al-Khafagi!”

  A squat, excessively fat man came in, padding ponderously until he stood before the throne.

  Osiris asked him to tell his story.

  “I was born in Syracuse,” said al-Shihab al-Khafagi, “and grew into a man of language and letters. Among my most famous stanzas:

  For how long will his avoidance make war on me?

  My patience has only increased his soldiery.

  My ecstasy makes mock of me

  Just as his promises toy with my fantasies.

  “I lived during the age of the Mamluks,” he continued, “whom the Ayyubids acquired because of their beauty. They gave them a brilliant upbringing to be their own servants, passing on their property to them. Some of them became mighty sultans as well as excellent Muslims, prizing justice and order combined. But the majority was profligate and greedy, and the people suffered agony, poverty, and ignominy at their hands.”

  “I never realized that mamluks—slaves—had an age named after them,” said Thutmose III.

  “You recited some love verses for us,” said the Sage Ptahhotep. “Didn’t the torments of the people move your passion for poetry, as well?”

  “In a letter, I wrote,” replied al-Shihab al-Khafagi,

  The good and virtuous have all gone—none remains but those who take pride in rottenness and corruption, in the spirit of pessimism, and the fruit of rebuke—the successor to the owl, the sign of bad fortune. Forbearance and silence are prolonged. How Heaven wept for the earth when she lost a dear one, and the clouds sobbed along with her.

  “For hundreds of years the people lived through torments and rapacity, and if not for Islam, they would all have perished and disappeared.”

  “What did you say about the Mamluks?” wondered Abnum.

  “I tried not to stretch my neck under their swords,” answered al-Shihab al-Khafagi.

  “What was the role of Islam, which you have talked about?” asked the Sage Ptahhotep.

  “It was the brave ones among the men of religion,” said al-Shihab al-Khafagi, “who at times stood up to the tyrants in defense of the wretched, and their efforts were crowned with success. The downtrodden found in their faith both hope and consolation.”

  Osiris looked at the Immortals in their seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he addressed them, “I feel your sadness and your rage as well. Therefore I want you to know that our proceeding shall call out through the void to appeal to the two courts—Christian and Muslim—to bring the harshest possible penalties down upon all the iniquitous rulers who have usurped the throne of the pharaohs.”

  Then he fixed his gaze on al-Shihab al-Khafagi.

  “Go in peace to your final trial,” he told him, “with neither commendation nor censure from ours.”

  54

  THOTH, SCRIBE OF THE GODS, read aloud, “When the Mamluk state vanished, Egypt fell as booty into the hands of the Ottomans. Hundreds of pashas came and went as governors over the country, the Ottoman army and the remnants of the Mamluks sharing control with them. Under them, Egypt knew ease and comfort but rarely, and for fleeting periods only. A deadly struggle broke out within the ruling regime, and assassination and treachery became the norm. The people drowned in worry, ignorance, and humiliation, a condition that lasted some hundreds of years.”

  Horus then called out, “Ali Bey al-Kabir!”

  A muscular man of imposing height came in, walking in his winding sheet until he stood before the throne.

  “You are the first foreign ruler that we have summoned to our trial due to the clearly Egyptian tendency in your policies—a kind not seen before. Hence I invite you to address the court.”

  “I started as one of the mamluks belonging to Ibrahim Kakhiya,” said Ali Bey al-Kabir. “He prized me for my courage—so I became one of the few who were given the title of
‘bey.’ Next I became ‘sheikh al-balad,’ or head of the provincial government. At this point I thought of making Egypt independent of Ottoman rule, and I did just that. Immediately the hardships upon the people lessened. I was a just ruler, reigning righteously in accordance with Islam, and the Egyptians were blessed with peace and security—Muslims, Christians, and Jews as well. My domain stretched over the whole of the Arabian Peninsula, the Levant, and Nubia. If not for the treachery of Muhammad Abu al-Dhahab, one of my closest mamluks, Egypt’s fate would have been different. Yet I died nobly, just as I had lived.”

  “Was not your making Egypt independent a violation of the unity of Islam,” complained Akhenaten, “the religion of the One God?”

  “The Ottomans were tyrannical and corrupt, under a phony Islamic façade,” replied Ali Bey al-Kabir. “I was horrified by the torment that the Egyptians lived through. There was nothing for me to do but to make them happy under the shield of true Islam, if only by getting the Ottoman boot off their necks.”

  “I want to begin by thanking you for retrieving part of my empire,” said Thutmose III.

  Amenemhat I then said impatiently, “Didn’t you benefit from my Teaching, which I imparted after a conspiracy hatched by some of those who were the very closest to me—and which nearly devoured me as its victim?”

  “Actually, I had never heard of it. Whatever I needed was found in the Qur’an and the Traditions of the Prophet—though precaution cannot thwart fate.”