by Noah Gordon
“Does the kingdom belong to the mosque or to the palace?”
Rob did not answer with the swift and unhesitating surety that had been so impressive in Mirdin. “It is spelled out in Qu’ran,” he said in his accented Persian. “Allah says in Sura Two, ‘I am setting in the earth a viceroy.’ And in Sura Thirty-eight, a Shah’s task is stated in these words: ‘David, behold, We have appointed thee a viceroy in the earth, therefore judge between men justly, and follow not caprice, lest it lead thee astray from the way of God.’ Therefore, the kingdom belongs to God.”
In giving the kingdom to God, the reply had avoided the choice between Qandrasseh and Alā, yet it was a good and clever answer. The mullah did not argue.
Ibn Sabur asked the candidate to differentiate between smallpox and measles.
Rob quoted from Rhazes’ treatise entitled Division of Diseases, pointing out that the premonitory symptoms of smallpox are fever and pain in the back, while in measles the heat is greater and there is marked mental distress. He cited Ibn Sina as if the physician were not there, saying that Book Four of the Qanūn suggests that the rash of measles usually emerges all at once, while the rash of smallpox appears spot after spot.
He was steady and unwavering and didn’t try to draw into his answer his experience with the plague, as a lesser man might have done. Ibn Sina knew him to be worthy; of all the examiners, only he and al-Juzjani knew the magnitude of the effort this man had put into the past three years.
“What if you must treat a fractured knee?” al-Juzjani asked.
“If the leg is straight, one must immobilize it by binding it between two rigid splints. If it is bent, Hakim Jalal-ul-Din has devised a way of splinting which serves well for a knee as well as for a fractured or dislocated elbow.” There was paper and ink and a quill next to the visitor from Baghdad, and the candidate moved to these materials. “I can draw a limb so that you may see the placement of the splint,” he said.
Ibn Sina was horrified. Though the Dhimmi was a European, surely he must know that one who drew a picture of a human form, in whole or in part, would burn in the hottest of hell’s fires. It was sin and transgression for a strict Muslim even to glance at such a picture. Given the presence of the mullah and the Imam, the artist who mocked God and seduced their morality by re-creating man would go to an Islamic court and never be named a hakim.
The seated examiners reflected a variety of emotions. Al-Juzjani’s face indicated vast regret, a small smile trembled on Ibn Sabur’s mouth, the Imam was perturbed, the mullah already angry.
The quill flew between inkpot and paper. It made a quick scratching and in a moment it was too late, the drawing was done. Rob handed it to Ibn Sabur and the man from Baghdad studied it, transparently disbelieving. When he passed it to al-Juzjani, the surgeon could not prevent a grin.
It seemed to take a long time to reach Ibn Sina but when the paper arrived he saw that the limb depicted was … a limb! The bent branch of an apricot tree without doubt, for it was drawn in leaf. A knotted gnarl cleverly took the place of the injured knee joint, and the ends of the splint were shown tied well above and below the knot.
There were no questions regarding the splint.
Ibn Sina looked at Jesse, taking care to mask both his relief and his affection. He vastly enjoyed glancing at the face of the visitor from Baghdad. Settling back, he began to ask his student the most intriguing philosophical question he could formulate, secure that the maristan of Ispahan could afford to show off just a little more.
* * *
Rob had been shaken when he recognized Musa Ibn Abbas as the Vizier’s aide, whom he had seen in secret meeting with the Seljuk ambassador. But he had quickly realized that on that occasion he himself hadn’t been observed, and the mullah’s presence on the examining committee posed no special threat.
When the examination was finished he went directly to the wing of the maristan that contained the surgical patients, for he and Mirdin had agreed that simply to sit and wait together to learn their fate would be too hard. The interval was best spent working, and he threw himself into a variety of tasks, examining patients, changing dressings, removing stitchings—the homely jobs to which he had become accustomed.
Time passed, but there was no word.
Presently Jalal-ul-Din came into the surgery—which surely must mean the examiners had dispersed. Rob was tempted to ask if Jalal knew their decision but couldn’t bring himself to do so. As Jalal gave his customary greeting he offered no indication that he was aware of the clerk’s agony of waiting.
The day before, they had labored together over a herdsman who had been savaged by a bull. The man’s forearm had snapped like a willow in two places when the beast trod on it, and then the bull had gored his victim before being diverted by other herdsmen.
Rob had trimmed and sewn the torn muscles and flesh of the shoulder and arm and Jalal had reduced the fractures and applied splints. Now after they examined their patient, Jalal complained that the bulky rag dressings made a clumsy juxtaposition with the splints.
“Can the dressings not be removed?”
It puzzled Rob, for Jalal knew better. “It is too soon.”
Jalal shrugged. He looked at Rob warmly and smiled. “It must be as you say, Hakim,” he said, and left the chamber.
Thus was Rob informed. It dizzied him, so that for a time he stood without moving.
Eventually he was claimed by his routine. Four sick men remained to be seen and he went on, forcing himself to give the care of a good physician, as though his mind were the sun focusing on each of them small and hot through the crystal of his concentration.
But when the last patient had been tended he allowed his feelings to take him again, the purest pleasure he had experienced in his life. Walking almost drunkenly, he hurried home to tell Mary.
56
THE COMMAND
Rob had become hakim six days before his twenty-fourth natal day, and the glow lasted for weeks. To his satisfaction, Mirdin didn’t suggest that they go to the maidans to celebrate their new status as physicians; without making too much of it, he felt that the change in their lives was too important to be marked by an evening of drunkenness. Instead, the two families met at the Askaris’ house and rejoiced together over an evening meal.
Rob and Mirdin went to watch each other being measured for the hakim‘s black gown and hood.
“Will you go back to Masqat now?” Rob asked his friend.
“I’ll stay here several more months, for there are things I still must learn in the khazanat-ul-sharaf. And you? When will you return to Europe?”
“Mary can’t travel safely while pregnant. We’d best wait until the child has been born and is strong enough to withstand the journey.” He smiled at Mirdin. “Your family will celebrate in Masqat when their physician comes home. Have you sent word that the Shah wishes to buy a great pearl from them?”
Mirdin shook his head. “My family travels the villages of the pearlfishers and buys tiny seed pearls. They then sell them by the measuring cup, to merchants who sell them in turn to be sewn into garments. My family would be hard pressed indeed to raise the sums needed to buy great pearls. Nor would they be eager to deal with the Shah, for kings seldom are willing to pay fairly for the large pearls they love so well. For my part, I would hope that Alā has forgotten the ‘great good fortune’ he has bestowed on my kinsmen.”
“Members of the court inquired after you last evening and missed your presence,” Alā Shah said.
“I cared for a desperately ill woman,” Karim replied.
In truth, he had gone to Despina. Each of them had been desperate. It was the first time in five nights that he had been able to escape the fawning demands of spoiled courtiers, and he had valued every moment with her.
“There are ill people in my court who need your wisdom,” Alā said peevishly.
“Yes, Excellency.”
Alā had made it clear that Karim had the favor of the throne, but Karim already was tired of the
members of noble families who often came to him with imagined complaints, and he missed the bustle and genuine labor of the maristan, where he could be ever useful as a physician instead of an ornament.
Yet each time he rode into the House of Paradise and was saluted by the sentries he was newly moved. He thought often of how astounded Zaki-Omar would have been to see his boy riding with the King of Persia.
“… I am making plans, Karim,” the Shah was saying. “Formulating great events.”
“May Allah smile on them.”
“You must send for your friends, the pair of Jews, to meet with us. I would speak to all three of you.”
“Yes, Majesty,” Karim said.
Two mornings later Rob and Mirdin were summoned to ride out with the Shah. It gave them a chance to be with Karim, whose time these days was fully occupied in the company of Alā. In the stable yard of the House of Paradise, the three young physicians reviewed the examinations, to Karim’s pleasure, and when the Shah arrived they mounted and rode behind him into the countryside.
It was by now a familiar excursion, save that on this day they were overlong practicing the Parthian shot, which only Karim and Alā could perform with even a random hope of success. They dined well and spoke of nothing serious until all four of them were seated in the hot water of the cavern pool, drinking wine.
That was when Alā told them calmly that he would lead a large raiding party out of Ispahan in five days’ time.
“To raid where, Majesty?” Rob asked.
“The elephant pens of southwest India.”
“Sire, may I go with you?” Karim asked at once, his eyes alight.
“I hope that all three of you may come,” Alā said.
He spoke to them at length, flattering them by making them privy to his most secret plans. To the west the Seljuks clearly were preparing for war. In Ghazna, the Sultan Mahmud was more truculent than ever and eventually would have to be dealt with. This was a time for Alā to build his forces. His spies reported that in Mansura a weak Indian garrison guarded many elephants. A raid would be a valuable training maneuver and, more important, might provide him with priceless animals which, covered in mail, made awesome weapons that could turn the tide of a battle.
“There is another goal,” Alā said. He reached to his scabbard lying next to the pool and pulled out a dagger whose blade was of an unfamiliar blue steel, patterned with little swirls.
“The metal of this knife is found only in India. It is unlike any metal we have. It takes a better edge than our own steel and holds it longer. It is so hard, it will cut into ordinary weapons. We shall look for swords made of this blue steel, for with enough of them, an army would conquer.” He passed the dagger so each could examine its tempered keenness.
“Will you come with us?” he asked Rob.
Both knew it was a command and not a request; the note had now come due and it was time for Rob to pay his debt.
“Yes, I’ll come, Sire,” he said, trying to sound glad. He was light-headed with more than wine and could feel his pulse racing.
“And you, Dhimmi?” Alā said to Mirdin.
Mirdin was pale. “Your Majesty has granted me permission to return to my family in Masqat.”
“Permission! Of course you have had permission. Now it is for you to decide whether you will accompany us or not,” Alā said stiffly.
Karim hastily seized the goatskin and splashed wine into their goblets. “Come to India, Mirdin.”
“I’m not a soldier,” he said slowly. He looked at Rob.
“Come with us, Mirdin,” Rob heard himself urge. “We’ve discussed fewer than a third of the commandments. We could study together along the way.”
“We’ll need surgeons,” Karim said. “Besides, is Jesse the only Jew I have met in my life who is willing to fight?”
It was good-natured rough teasing, but something tightened in Mirdin’s eyes.
“It isn’t true. Karim, you’re stupid with wine,” Rob said.
“I will go,” Mirdin said, and they shouted in pleasure.
“Think of it,” Alā said with satisfaction. “Four friends together, raiding India!”
* * *
Rob went to Nitka the Midwife that afternoon. She was a thin, severe woman, not quite old, with a sharp nose in a sallow face and snapping raisin eyes. She offered him refreshment half-heartedly and then listened without surprise to what he had to say. He explained only that he must go away. Her face told him the problem was part of her normal world: the husband travels, the wife is left at home to suffer alone.
“I’ve seen your wife. The red-haired Other.”
“She is a European Christian. Yes.”
Nitka stared pensively and then appeared to make up her mind. “All right. I’ll attend her when her time comes. If there is a difficulty, I’ll live in your house during the final weeks.”
“Thank you.” He handed her five coins, four of them gold. “Is it enough?”
“It is enough.”
Instead of going home, he left Yehuddiyyeh again and went uninvited to the house of Ibn Sina.
The Chief Physician greeted him and then heard him gravely.
“What if you should die in India? My own brother Ali was killed taking part in a similar raid. Perhaps the possibility has not occurred to you because you are young and strong and see only life for yourself. But if death should take you?”
“I’m leaving my wife with money. Little of it is mine, most was her father’s,” he said scrupulously. “If I die, will you arrange travel back to her home for her and the child?”
Ibn Sina nodded. “You must be careful to make such work unnecessary for me.” He smiled. “Have you given thought to the riddle I have challenged you to guess?”
Rob stood in wonder that such a mind still could play childish games.
“No, Chief Physician.”
“No matter. If Allah wills, there will be plenty of time for you to guess the riddle.” His tone changed and he said brusquely, “And now, sit closer, Hakim. I think we would do well to talk for a time of the treatment of wounds.”
Rob told Mary as they lay abed. He explained that there was no choice; that he was pledged to repay Alā and that, at any rate, his presence in the raiding party was a command. “Needless to say, neither Mirdin nor I would chase a mad adventure if it could be avoided,” he said.
He didn’t go into detail about possible mishaps but told her he had arranged for Nitka’s services for the birthing, and that Ibn Sina would help her in the event of any other problem.
She must have been terrified but she didn’t carry on. He thought he detected anger in her voice when she asked questions, but that may have been a trick of his own guilt, for deep within himself he recognized that part of him was excited about going soldiering, happy to live a childhood dream.
Once in the night he placed his hand lightly on her belly and felt the warm flesh that was already rising, beginning to show.
“You may not be able to see it the size of a watermelon, as you said you wished to do,” she said in the darkness.
“Doubtless I’ll return by then,” he told her.
Mary retreated into herself as the day of departure came, becoming again the harder woman he had found alone and fiercely protecting her dying father in Ahmad’s wadi.
When it was time for him to go she was outside, wiping down her black horse. She was dry-eyed as she kissed him and watched him leave, a tall woman with a growing middle who held her large body now as if she were always tired.
57
THE CAMELEER
It would have been a small force for an army but it was large for a raiding party, six hundred fighting men on horses and camels and twenty-four elephants. Khuff commandeered the brown horse as soon as Rob rode up to the mustering place on the maidan.
“Your horse will be returned to you when we come back to Ispahan. We will use only mounts that have been trained not to shy at the scent of elephants.”
The brown horse w
as turned into the herd that would be taken to the royal stables and to Rob’s consternation and Mirdin’s great amusement he was given a scruffy gray female camel that looked at him coldly as she chewed her cud, her rubbery lips twisting and her jaws grinding in opposite directions.
Mirdin was given a brown male camel; he had ridden camels all his life and showed Rob how to twist the reins and bark a command to cause the single-humped dromedary to bend its front legs and drop to its knees, then fold its hind legs and fall to the ground. The rider sat sidesaddle and jerked the reins as he voiced another command, and the beast unfolded itself, reversing the order of its descent.
There were two hundred and fifty foot soldiers, two hundred horse soldiers, and one hundred and fifty on camels. Presently Alā came, a splendid sight. His elephant was a yard taller than any of the others. Gold rings adorned the wicked tusks. The mahout sat proudly on the bull’s head and directed his progress with feet dug in behind the elephant’s ears. The Shah sat erect in a cushion-lined box on the great convex back, a splendid sight in dark blue silks and a red turban. The people roared. Perhaps some of them were cheering the hero of the chatir, for Karim sat a nervous gray Arabian stallion with savage eyes, riding directly behind the royal elephant.
Khuff shouted a hoarse, thunderous command and his horse trotted after the king’s elephant and Karim, and then the other elephants fell into line and moved out of the square. After them came the horses and then the camels, and then hundreds of pack asses whose nostrils had been surgically slit so they could take in more air when they labored. The foot soldiers were last.
Once again Rob found himself three-quarters of the way back in the line of march, which seemed to be his customary position when traveling with large assemblages. That meant he and Mirdin had to cope with constant clouds of dust; anticipating this, each had exchanged his turban for the leather Jew’s hat, which afforded better protection from both dust and sun.
Rob found the camel alarming. When she knelt and he settled his considerable weight on her back she whined loudly and then grunted and groaned as she clambered to her feet. He couldn’t believe the ride: he was higher than when on a horse; he bounced and swayed, and there was less fat and flesh to pad his seat.
