Tein was not sitting with the men. She hoped he was out investigating the case. Maybe he would find something in time. Ibn Salah, Ammar, and Mustafa were talking, their heads close together.
There was a sharp knock on one of the doors, a guard opened it. The Chamberlain emerged. He wore a large brown turban that balanced a long and luxuriantly oiled dark-brown beard. His quilted robe was a striking pattern of blue dots on a white background and cinched around a trim waist by a dark brown leather belt, and the brown of his sirwal and stocking feet. His back was straight. He looked beyond the crowd before him to the far end of the mosque and announced in a clear voice, “In the name of God, the Merciful and the Compassionate. Qadi Abu Abd ar-Rahman Yahya Ibn al-Zayzafuni al-Khurasani will now hear your cases.”
The guard opened the door again. Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni emerged and walked to his spot on the sheepskin. She knew it was him immediately by his tall judge’s cap, a quilted leather cone in black leather, with a turban wrapped around it. The Judge dressed simply, making his Chamberlain seem extravagant by comparison. His robes, sirwal, and hooded cloak were made of finely woven, undyed wool with the simplest banding. His beard was nearly all grey, shot through with red, which made his fair skin look even more pale. As he sat down, his robes pooled around him. Looking out at the room, avoiding the women’s gaze, she felt tenderness wash out to them and she knew Mu’mina and Tansholpan would be in good hands.
Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni said, “May God guide me toward what is right. I will stand before Him on the Last Day and will give an account of my ruling in each case that comes before me. May God prevent me from disobeying His commands in each of my judgments this day and every other day. Amin.”
The property clerk handed the Chamberlain the names of those who were to be called. He looked over the list, then said, “Abu Umar Burhan ibn Abi Burhan Ibrahim ibn Awad ibn Salim al-Bayduni.”
Burhan stood before the clerk. Zaytuna thought, So this was him. So much ugliness from someone with such a plain face. Behind him sat an older man. He must be Abu Burhan. The son obviously took his looks from his father. Here was the unremarkable man who caused Mu’mina so much harm. They both wore plain robes, deeply patterned but in subdued browns, blues, and yellows, with wraps of dark brown wool. Zaytuna grunted. What seemed sincere in the dress of Ibn al-Zayzafuni was a mere performance in these men. If Qadi Abu Burhan had only forced Imam Hashim to release her, none of this would have happened. She didn’t know how the Imam died, but it all seemed to centre around the injustice done to this girl.
The Chamberlain asked, “Please identify yourself and state your case.”
Burhan said, “Abu Umar Burhan ibn Abi Burhan Ibrahim ibn Awad ibn Salim al-Bayduni. I live on Abu at-Tuyur Street, in the district of Karkh, and attend the Sharqiyya mosque for Friday prayers.”
Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni, nodded. “Please state your case.”
Burhan said in a clear and confident voice, so all could hear, “I accuse the slave, Mu’mina, of killing her master, Imam Hashim Ibn Ahmad al-Qatifi, by means of a curse, and the cursewriter Tansholpan, of supplying the slave with the curse that killed him.”
The Judge said, “Although we have the expectation that all who speak in this court will tell the truth, this is a capital crime. Thus I will take the step of reminding all those who will speak before me today to take care with their words. Should anyone lie in their presentation of the case, it will be a grave matter before this court and God. If I am made aware that she is convicted on false evidence, you will be liable for the same punishment as the accused. But God is The Aware, the All-Knowing, thus even if you are not found out in this world you may find that the sirat, the bridge to Paradise, to be a razor’s edge and from that edge you will fall into the torments of hell.”
Burhan visibly shuddered, then paused and looked back at his father. Zaytuna watched Abu Burhan closely. He looked as if he wanted to slap his son into speaking.
Zaytuna looked back quickly to Ibn al-Zayzafuni to see if he saw it as well, but nothing showed on his face. The Judge replied, “You must consider the weight of what you are about to say. If you have doubts about this case, you must say so.”
Burhan spoke, choosing each word as if he were discovering it before him, “I bring this case to you for your adjudication. I believe that the petition is sound. But God knows best. May the truth come to light and justice be done for Imam Hashim and those accused in this life and the next.”
Zaytuna was shocked at the measure of his reply. A quick look at Mustafa confirmed the same. His fear of God was unexpected. How can someone act in this world as if God sees nothing and then in a moment like this suddenly become aware of God’s encompassing knowledge and justice? My God, she thought, these men are charged with protecting the legacy of the Prophet!
The guard went back through the door and brought out Tansholpan and Mu’mina. Yulduz started at the sight of them and squeezed Zaytuna’s arm. Tansholpan looked over at them, nodding. She seemed calm, resigned even, which worried Zaytuna. Tansholpan had her arm around Mu’mina to help her walk. The girl’s face was drawn. She looked weak, still recovering from the poison, but with a spark of anger in her eyes. The guard brought them to stand before the women watching the court and within view of the Judge. The guard allowed Mu’mina to sit but Tansholpan had to remain standing. The guard stood beside them both, blocking the view of some of the women behind them, who grumbled and moved, pressing against those next to them, in order to see.
Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni said to all those before him, “It is rare that a murder case comes before the religious courts, let alone a case in which an esteemed colleague is the victim. It was first submitted to the Chief of Police’s court by the Grave Crimes section of the Baghdad Police. Due to the complicated nature of the case, it was agreed that our court would be a more appropriate place to hear the evidence. Lest you think that this case was brought here because we would like to see the accused found guilty without a proper hearing, I will correct you. The petition to move this matter to our court was based on the troubling behaviour of the deceased scholar with regard to the accused. It is imperative that you, the people, understand that we are watchful over our own.
The people in the court shifted. Some tittered with pleasure, others with frustration probably realizing that their case would not be seen today. Yulduz squeezed Zaytuna’s arm again. “Good man.”
“May God protect me and guide me, your judge is between Paradise and Hell on this matter, indeed on all that come before me.” He said something in a whisper to himself, then, “May the case be presented.”
The property clerk spoke, “I have in my possession Abu Umar Burhan ibn Abi Burhan’s petition to the court, the scribal records of police interviews with relevant parties, including both of the accused, as well as confessions to the murder by the accused named ‘Mu’mina’.”
At the word “confessions,” a number of people in the crowd gasped.
The Chamberlain looked to the Judge who seemed concerned at their reaction but did not address it. He nodded to the clerk to continue.
“I also have in my possession the court records of a petition, subsequently resolved, which was brought by the accused, Mu’mina, against Imam Hashim al-Qatifi, in the court of Abu Burhan Ibrahim ibn Awad ibn Salim al-Bayduni at the Sharqiyya Mosque.”
The Judge said, “We will hear first from the petitioner of today’s case.”
The Chamberlain asked, “Would Abu Umar Burhan ibn Abi Burhan please come forward and attest to the petition before the court?”
The property clerk handed Burhan the petition. He confirmed, “Yes, this is the petition I submitted to this court.”
The clerk nodded to him, Burhan went back to his place, and the clerk handed the petition to the Judge.
The Judge spoke, “Abu Umar Burhan ibn Abi Burhan, please present your evidence in accordance with your petition.”
“I am petitioning on behalf of the family of Imam Hashim that Mu’mina, the slave of
Imam Hashim, and now the property of his inheritors, killed him by use of a talisman. The talisman was purchased from the cursewriter Tansholpan. I petition the court that Tansholpan should be held to account in this case as providing the instrument of his death. I would also petition the court that Tansholpan be questioned on the matter of heresy, as a writer of curses, rather than prayers, and transferred for examination before the Chief Judge in the Mazalim High Court.”
Zaytuna looked at Tansholpan, but instead saw the guard watching over them turn around to nod at someone in the back of the court. Zaytuna followed his gaze and watched as the man he nodded to got up and left the mosque. She looked for Mustafa or Ammar, willing them to see her, so she could point it out to them, but it was over in a moment. God willing, it was nothing. She couldn’t get up and go over to the men’s side now court was in session.
Burhan continued, “In the documents supporting my petition, you will find the account of Imam Hashim’s wife, not present to preserve her modesty. She has testified before two witnesses, in the court today, to speak to the veracity of the account before you and the accompanying police reports, that her husband informed her that Mu’mina had tied a talisman around his neck, telling him that it would make him more virile. Earlier that day, his wife had witnessed, by God’s will and abiding justice, Mu’mina purchasing that very same talisman from the cursewriter Tansholpan outside the Fruit Seller’s Gate.
“Imam Hashim’s wife suspected that the talisman was a curse rather than a prayer for his good health and pleaded with him to remove it. He refused. Not long after he began wearing the talisman, bruises began appearing on his body. More seriously, she discovered he had broken a rib and one of his eyes had been blackened. When she questioned him about the bruises and broken rib, he denied that he had been beaten by any man.”
The crowd gasped, the women around them leaned into each other whispering. Zaytuna heard the word, “jinn,” said by more than one.
Burhan had heard too, and looked back nodding to the crowd. Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni said to him, “Look to me. I am the judge of this matter here, not them.” And to the crowd, “Have respect before this court.”
The people quieted, but Zaytuna could feel their energy. They would not be able to sustain it.
Burhan said, “God forgive me.” He waited a moment, then went on, “Imam Hashim told his wife that an ifrit was crushing his chest and had hold of his arm, causing him extraordinary pain and difficulty breathing.” The crowd rose up again, but this time only in whispers. “She ripped the talisman from his throat, but it was too late. When the case was transferred to the Police Chief’s court, his family was informed that the slave confessed to buying the talisman, tying it around his neck, and killing him by means of it. That is a summary of our case before you.”
Ibn al-Zayzafuni said to the Chamberlain, “Bring the two witnesses to the wife’s account forward.”
Two men got up and stood before the court.
“Do you testify to the accuracy of the account just given?”
Both nodded, each replying, “Yes.”
“Do you have anything to add?”
Both answered, “No.”
“Thank you.”
The Judge turned to the Chamberlain, “I would like to hear how the defendant, Mu’mina, answers these charges.”
The Chamberlain said, “The defendant, Mu’mina will stand before the court.”
The guard pulled Mu’mina to standing, but before she could, Ibn Salah got up and stood before the Judge. “I must intervene.”
The Chamberlain instructed a guard to force him to sit, but Ibn al-Zayzafuni signaled to him to wait.
The Judge said, “Identify yourself.”
“Abu Mubarak Sherwan Ibn as-Salah al-Kurdi of Iyas al-Muzani Street. I attend the Rusafa mosque.”
“Now speak.”
“The defendant does not have the capacity to answer the charge.”
Mu’mina called out, “How dare you!”
The Judge put his hand up to stop her, “Quiet. I must hear him. I will also hear you.”
She scowled, but said no more.
Turning to Ibn Salah, he asked, “On what grounds do you make this accusation?”
“As our expert will show, her behaviour throughout her interrogation has been irrational. Mu’mina confessed to the crime as stated by the plaintiff, but immediately afterward recanted it to a lesser crime of unintentional murder.”
The crowd whispered and hushed each other. One man said audibly, “Recanted? How convenient!”
The Chamberlain indicated to the guards standing along the edges of the crowd to handle it. One guard moved between the men until he found the one who spoke and lifted him by the arm. The man protested, “But I have a case here today!” The guard said nothing and walked the man out of the mosque, protesting all the way. The crowd watched him go and fell into silence. Zaytuna could hear Yulduz’s ragged breathing beside her.
Ibn Salah continued, “Although the police presented her with evidence that she may not be guilty of any crime, she insists on it. Nothing can sway her. She is, as you can see, a slave of African heritage. It is said that the heat of the African climate affects their mental capacity, and that they pass this deficiency onto their children. I have no other insight on the matter.”
The words shot through Zaytuna like an arrow on fire, she began to stand and open her mouth to object but Yulduz pulled her down and pinched her on the arm so hard that she yelped in pain. She looked at Mu’mina, wanting to reach out to her but couldn’t see her face, only that the guard had his hand on her shoulder pressing her down. Zaytuna understood the risk of Mu’mina confessing again to the murder in court, but was there no other way? Why demean her further? Why like this? She wanted nothing more than to stand and walk across the court, knock the guard’s hand from her shoulder, and slap the words out of Ibn Salah’s mouth. She looked at Burhan. His face had turned red at the thought that she may not be heard and his father, Zaytuna took satisfaction in seeing, was wound up tight with fury. She thought, Let him explode with temper and be dragged from the mosque!
Ibn al-Zayzafuni considered his account, then said, “The defendant is present to speak to the plaintiff. She will speak before this court. I will determine her capacity.” He turned to the chamberlain, “Bring her forward for my examination.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zaytuna watched as the Chamberlain indicated that the court guard should bring Mu’mina forward before the Judge. The guard took her by the arm. She didn’t move. Tansholpan leaned down to whisper in her ear, but Mu’mina gave her a harsh look. Mu’mina got up carefully, then pressed her free hand against her belly once she was standing. The crowd held still as he dragged her to stand between Ibn Salah and Burhan.
“I understand that you are weak.” Ibn al-Zayzafuni said, “You may sit.”
Ibn Salah took her arm, but she shook it off, glaring at him, and sank to the floor, exhausted by the effort.
“Please identify yourself before the court,” the Chamberlain said, then stepped back.
Mu’mina sat in silence. Her mouth pressed tight.
Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni turned to Ibn Salah, “Is this what you mean?”
He nodded. “She is stubborn to her own best interests. It is irrational.”
The judge leaned forward. “If your interest is in confirming your guilt, now is your chance. Identify yourself.”
She was shaking, looking at each of them with venom. “I am Mu’mina.”
“Who owns you, where do they live, and what is their mosque?” The Chamberlain prompted.
She spat back at him, “You know all this!”
The Judge turned to Ibn Salah, “I see your point. Would you complete the identification?”
“She is Mu’mina, the property of Imam Hashim’s inheritors, of Ajyad Road, and the Sharqiyya Mosque. May I take over, Judge? You see she does not have the capacity to address the court.”
“Not yet. I want to hear her first.
”
Zaytuna turned to see Isam standing, despite the efforts of those around him to pull him down. He bellowed at the Judge, “How can the murderer of my brother speak in this court!”
A man yelled from behind him, “Sit down! We’ll hear from her if she did it or not!”
The guards moved in, flanking Isam. But the Judge called out, “Leave him, leave him. He grieves.” Then he addressed Isam, “As much as it may distress you, it is exactly the work of this court to hear her account.” The guards withdrew, but Isam remained standing. “Now sit. We are guided in our principles from His Just Word and the example of our Beloved Prophet, may God bless his family and companions. Have trust in these proceedings.”
Isam sat slowly, wiping his face, his eyes still wild.
When all had quieted, Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni asked Mu’mina, “Are you Muslim?”
She continued to stare at him, her brown eyes narrowed, her chin lifted.
“You do not seem shy. Why are you not answering?”
Then, her face changed. She glanced toward the floor, tilting her head to one side, seemingly listening to an unseen voice. She nodded, but as if she did not want to acquiesce to it, then answered, “Yes. I am Muslim.”
“Recite the shahada into the record and for all to hear.”
She looked angered by the demand, but did it. “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is God’s messenger, and blessings upon the Prophet’s family, most especially his daughter, my mother, Fatima.”
Qadi Ibn al-Zayzafuni’s eyes widened at this unusual articulation of the testimony of faith and asked, “Would you explain what you said?”
“It was the Lady Fatima who brought me to Islam.”
Zaytuna watched as the men leaned into each other, commenting, and heard the whispering of the women around her. The Judge spoke before the guards could move, “I know this is of interest to the people here, as it is to me, but it has no bearing on this case.” He turned to her, “Alhamdulillah. You understand that your words are said before God and that lying may benefit you in this world, but that you will answer to God for it in the next?”
The Jealous Page 33
