The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature) (24 page)

Al-Misbahi sat there, humble and withdrawn. He had to make every possible effort to keep an all-enveloping panic under control while he looked for a means of escape. With a superhuman effort he managed to unlock his tongue.

“My lord,” he said as he mopped his master’s brow, “if my presence disturbs you or disrupts your solitude and contemplation, then should I ask your permission to leave?”

“Leave when I have the greatest possible need of history? You want to escape? It’s as if you are not convinced by my guarantee of safety. Apart from you, who else is there who can inform time and future generations about me?”

“There are still a few pages I need to write with your assistance, my lord. I’ve already completed the fortieth volume of my history which is entitled ‘Book of the History of Egypt, Its Qualities, Its Wonders, Its Rareties, Its Curiosities, and the Regions and Monuments Within It, Along With Biographies of Governors, Commanders, and Caliph Imams, Forebears of the Commander of the Faithful, Who Lived There and Elsewhere.’”

“What are these few pages, Mukhtar?”

“Something quite simple: grandees and notables whom you condemned to death. I’ve already had the privilege, my lord, of linking all these death sentences to the relevant legal arguments and sections of the Shari’a law. I have cited al-Hamadhani where he says, ‘When water is stagnant for a long period, it turns fetid: if the surface looks calm, decay is on the move.’ However, my lord, I must admit that I haven’t been able to fully understand two, or rather three, instances. The first one concerns your tutor, Abu al-Tamim Sa‘id ibn Sa‘id al-Fariqi.”

“Do you remember the way Ibn ‘Ammar used to parade his bigotry in front of me?’ It was the same with that crafty devil, Burjuwan, with his sword and thousand pairs of silk trousers. Al-Fariqi was just like them and others too. They all conspired to dominate me and retain power for themselves. They kept annoying me, so I took revenge.”

“But my lord,” the historian noted, “al-Fariqi had no part of either sword or bigotry. Quite the contrary, he was simply a giver of wise counsel.”

“The kind of counsel that shackled my hands and turned abstraction into drivel. In politics, advice about how things should be is utterly useless in the context of dismal daily realities. Even so, al-Fariqi wasn’t executed because of the ideas that earned him his salary, but because he insisted on inflicting his overbearing presence on me. His too many words of advice and warning prevented me from doing my job, and he kept interfering in all kinds of affairs and markets that were none of his business.”

“One day, my lord, I was fortunate enough to be present at one of those moments when you lost your temper with him. ‘The only lessons I learn,’ you roared at him, ‘come from my own efforts. The past is what I create through my deeds, my seals, and my monuments; there is no other. I append it to the world’s memory as a token of my survival after death.’ I have recorded that dictum of yours in my history. But let me ask you, my lord, about the other al-Fariqi, Malik ibn Sa‘id, the chief judge …”

“If that judge—God shame him!—were to rise from his grave now, I’d slay him all over again. When I put you in charge of the salary bureau, Mukhtar, you saw for yourself how he disclosed my secret correspondence and perused all the information forwarded to me.”

“That’s perfectly correct, my lord. However you pardoned him for that particular infraction. At your command I sent him a strongly worded letter of reprimand.”

“And do you think he changed his ways? Oh no, he carried right on with his duplicity and deceit. He devised ruses of every kind and fondly imagined they would somehow escape the notice of my spies and informers. It is proven beyond any doubt that he had sex with women
who came to him with complaints; in fact Satan tempted him to infiltrate my own harem. He even started flirting with my sister. Sitt al-Mulk. Before I had him executed, I asked him during his trial what was the difference between a man and woman. Mukhtar, have you an idea how that crafty rogue answered my question? “Men have a sexual organ,” he replied, and then continued like someone touched by the Devil in person, “and women are one great sexual organ.”

Al-Hakim leaned over and whispered these tidbits into the historian’s ear, while the latter sat there begging God’s forgiveness. The historian continued with his questions.

“My lord,” he asked, “as long as we’re on the topic of judges, can I ask you about your choice of fire as the means of getting rid of‘Abd al-‘ Aziz al-Nu‘man, the chief judge? Wasn’t executing him a sufficient form of revenge for the scandals he perpetrated?”

“Mukhtar,” al-Hakim replied, “the only outrages he committed that you know about were bribery and his regular tendency to cause trouble and incite people against me. As you’re well aware, he gave secret support to Abu Rakwa and all other rebels too. He was the worst of descendants of the best of forebears. My sentence of execution was totally justified, as it was for his partner and relative. ‘Ali al-Husayn ibn Jawhar. I only gave orders for his body to be burnt because the wretch used to rob and harass orphans. I was merely executing God’s promise, I le being the best of promisers:
Those who unjustly consume the property of orphans will taste fire in their bellies and will mast in hellfire
.

“May God shed light on your deeds, my lord,” said the historian. “Now there’s just one more case that worries me; I can’t understand the real causes. It involves the way your general, al-Fadl, was killed. Since he had succeeded in defeating Abu Rakwa’s army and saving you from a potentially enormous danger, he certainly didn’t fail you….”

“Mukhtar,” al-Hakim interrupted as he paced the room nervously, “you should not be like everyone else, content merely to scratch the surface of things. God protect you, look deeper. You will discover that al-Fadl had no real role in my
defeat of Abu Rakwa was the enormous amount of money that was spent from both state coffers and my own resources, money that made it possible for me to dragoon mercenaries from a variety of countries and races. Look still deeper and do some research. You’ll discover that J only managed to capture the rebel by giving in exchange gifts and supplies to his protector, the king of Nubia. In total I spent more than a million gold dinars. If I hadn’t resorted to such stratagems, they being the only ones I still had at my discretion, I could not have offered any opposition to Abu Rakwa’s army. But for that, Mukhtar, my superficial historian, I would not be here now giving you this explanation.”

“You are right, Commander of the Faithful! Please excuse my inadequate research and faulty understanding,”

“My other reason for killing al-Fadl was that he murdered Abu Rakwa without my permission and thus deprived me of the opportunity to give him an affectionate welcome. All he left me was a head with nothing to say. Ah, Mukhtar! How much I’d looked forward to talking to Abu Rakwa and debating with him! I relished the possibility of exposing the confused ideas and visions inside his head. If only I’d been able to do what al-Fadl made impossible, if Abu Rakwa had debated with me about his reasons for rebelling against me! If he’d won me over, I’d have made him my heir apparent.”

“Would that have been legal, my lord?”

“The law always sides with whatever is most correct and beneficial. Didn’t I decide not to make my legitimate son, al-Hasan, heir and instead selected my cousin, ‘Abd al-Rahim ibn Ilyas? That broke the chain of dynastic succession to the imamate and favored the upright over the twisted and the capable over the weak.”

“Yes, indeed you did, my lord. That’s another issue I can’t understand!”

“If I’d met Abu Rakwa and found he was better than the others, I’d have shared the caliphate with him and made him my heir after my disappearance.”

Mukhtar was astonished, not knowing what to do or say. “Shall I write down what you’ve been saying about Abu Rakwa?” he asked.

“Do whatever you like. Actually leave out what I’ve just said. Even if you pass it on, you may not find anyone who’ll believe you. But do write this down in your history: Only the most worthy and virtuous deserve the imamate.”

“What about the chapter in my history on Abu Rakwa, my lord? Shall I include the verses attributed to him that I actually asked your poet, Muhammad ibn ‘Asim, to write, the ones in which he asks you for forgiveness and pardon?”

“Recite me a few lines so I can decide.”

“It’s a long poem, but I’ll select a short extract.”

    I fled, but to no avail. No fugitive on earthcan withstand the one with God on his side.

    By God, flight’s only cause was fear of that death I now savor.

    My entire body led me to you as a dead person shakes in death’s millstone.

    All are agreed that you are my killer but that is indeed a false notion about you.

    It is a matter of revenge and is over; now are you bound to use it as you must.

“Fear God, Mukhtar!” was al-Hakim’s reaction. “Spare these poor dead folk the fancies and lies of poets!”

“But, my lord,” the historian replied, “this poetic text will gradually be turned into a genuine document to be repeated by historians for all time. I think it’s important and precious. It needs to be reproduced like all documents that may have started as poetry but later became history.”

“If you like,” said al-Hakim, “leave it for the course of history to determine. It’s a mere drop in the ocean. But then who is to tell us we’re not all living a bad dream or a total lie?”

With that al-Hakim rushed out of his residence, headed to his observatory, and pointed his telescope into the heavens. He came back inside,
sat down again in the dark, and started repeating a phrase, as though to another. My unlucky star has shown me its tail.” Once he had tired of repeating this phrase, he fell into a troubling silence that al-Misbahi dared not interrupt. The historian was on the point of grabbing the opportunity afforded by al-Hakim’s ever increasing somnolence to escape to his own house. At the sound of the first snore he stood up and started to sneak away like a thief in the night. However the roar that al-Hakim let out, along with expressions of disapproval, made him return to his place in short order.

“So, Mukhtar, are trying to leave without my permission? Aren’t you capable of sharing my insomnia and gloom with me? God disgrace you for running away like that!”

“Forgive me, my lord. I’d noticed how melancholy you looked and how much the misery seemed to be weighing down on you.”

“Then write that down. You know my penchant for innovation and putting a cover on the past.”

“You were lost in a profound silence …”

“So record my silence then! You will see how my deeds ferment and my innovations fare in their labor pains.”

“But, my lord, so gifted and splendid, I myself cannot take on such a complex, indeed impossible task.”

“If you can’t do it well now, then learn how to do so. It will be the same as learning astronomy and the interpretation of esoteric words and stars. Are we created for any other purpose than learning and searching for light? Mukhtar, how long shall I see you only at my banquets and receptions, as part of the procession to open the Canal in Cairo, or at the dedication of my buildings and other ceremonial occasions? Till when will your loyal pens only follow me during my nocturnal councils and affairs of state? Do you define history as simply weddings, ceremonies, ribbons to be cut, records and decrees to be recorded and sealed? That type of history has already covered all caliphs and sultans; they dominate the entire scene. Don’t you think your opus could be expanded to include one of the weakest Buwayhi sultans like Bakhtiyari who turned his
meetings with ministers and generals into a chain of weeping and wailing, and all because he had fallen in love with a young boy and lost him? Isn’t what I’m asking you the truth?”

“Certainly, my lord.”

“So then, where have you left my unique and splendid qualities? How can you manage to encrust the memory of time and future generations with the jewels of my era?”

“My lord, my own share of knowledge is very small.
Over every knowledgeable person is One who knows.”

“This knowledge you have is less than it should be; it lacks profundity and interpretive power. It could prove very harmful, indeed useless.”

“So how can I raise it to a higher level in order to satisfy my lord?”

“Mukhtar, you have to work hard and never flag. Interpret till you’re sweating out of sheer exhaustion. Open up your senses so you can penetrate beyond the outer shell and reach the very essence of things. There you’ll encounter useful ideas and wonderful proofs. But, if you don’t go through those doors, you’ll be like all other normal people who live in the visible world, and never move beyond the passage of time or cultivate anything beyond rust and dross.”

“Just supposing, my lord, that I were to make the necessary effort till my veins stick out and my face turns pale, but still fail to uncover anything more than what I’ve already mentioned. In such a case I’d have no choice but revert to the things I’ve always relished writing about, the coterie of government and panoply of kingly power. Those are the things I’ve asked people about, and they in turn have directed me to the capital of your rule. I have questioned the inhabitants of your capital, and they have directed me to your court, my lord. It is in this prosperous court of yours that I have found my desired goal, the focus of those interests in matters of administration, warfare, and finance, all combined in the decision-making process and in creating events. Every person can find ease in the particular situation for which he was created. My lord, I have found my own ease in your service, just as I found it with your illustrious forebears. I recount your doings and relate everything to you. That’s why
you’ll never find me consorting with the plebs nor bothering about their livelihood, plants, and paltry minerals. No, I have concentrated instead on precious stones, costly horses and livestock, and rare plants that are good for your health, my lord.”

“Mukhtar, my court has attracted you and given you enthusiasms. But at the same time it’s made your head spin so much that you’ve ignored everything else.”