The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature) (26 page)

Al-Hakim’s mood worried al-Kirmani; he was afraid of what fresh outrages the caliph might unleash. Mustering all his powers of persuasion, he decided to try to soothe the caliph’s anxieties and cheer him up somewhat.

“My lord,” he said, “so tar nothing is lost. Just close the book on the past and send out new missionaries to your people. They can pass on the counsel of our imam, Ja’far al-Sadiq: ‘Make it so people love us, not hate us.” Don’t forget always to live by the hadith of our beloved Prophet (on Him be peace!): ‘If there is to be just a single day left for this world, God will prolong that day, so that from my offspring may come one who will fill the world with justice just as it has been filled with injustice.’ The message of that hadith is a powerful and noble one, sufficient in itself to provide my Lord with a release from hardship and hope after despair.”

Al-Hakim now stood up, walked toward the tent-door, and started nervously pacing up and down.

“August sage,” he said, “the people are no longer of a mind to wait till a final day for justice. They don’t want any more tests or trials. Today what they want is equity and pride, and soon; they want instant gratification. In such a situation I have neither discretion nor authority. Should I go out and tell them, like Jesus. I am the Son of God on High’? Or should I threaten them with
I am the Mount, the inscribed Book, the inhabited House
, I am the Lord of Resurrection, imam of the faithful, the manifest knowledge, tongue of believers, buttress of monotheists?’ By God, if I were to do such a thing, people would start banging drums, making fun of my words, and doing the belly-dance and other salacious things. No, we’ve had enough arguing and chatter. The only possible solution is for me to become the raging fire that reaches their very hearts. Join me tomorrow night, Mukhtar, in the hills overlooking Fustat, that accursed and obstreperous den. Then you’ll be able to write the most incredible part of your history. As for you, Hamid al-Din, I regret that you haven’t been able to cure me of my depression, but you should realize—God take care of you!—that you need to bring your ideas at the right time, not at a moment which is beyond the scope of actions and rules of time.”

With these final words, al-Hakim mounted his horse and rode off toward his palace, followed by retainers and guards. He left his two companions to convey their farewells in a state of total despair.

On the evening of the promised day, al-Hakim was to be found in the lulls, picking up clumps of earth like a lunatic and hurling threats in the direction of Fustat. After a while he became exhausted and collapsed to the ground, muttering,

    “On this night, in the folds of this mountain

    I shall get drunk on a strange beverage,

    One through which l shall come to love and adore my beloved fires.

    With bubbles and wondrous herbs I shall get drunk.

    In its heavenly sign my spirit will be crystallized by the aroma of plants and the light of the moon,

    With insects, birds, and the silence of stone as companions.

    I shall get drunk till my passion rages.

    To slaves I give part of what I have,

    Then I shall test people in homes and interiors

    With the flame of my fire and the heat of my smoke,

    Guided as I pass among them by the stench of slander and leaflets.”

By nightfall al-Hakim was indeed intoxicated. Standing alongside him were his senior slaves, waiting for him to issue orders. “Cause dissension, and you can govern,” he kept telling himself. “Set one group against another, and they will beg you to adjudicate. After all you are the one who governs by command of God [Al-Hakim bi-Amr Illah]. That is what should happen now!” With that he yelled at the top of his voice, “My slaves, flatten Fustat! Straighten its curves. Today it’s all yours, to burn and pillage. That is my revenge for the slander and sarcasm they have shown toward me. They will escape neither me nor you. Their insults against me have transcended all bounds. Had I the power, I would send down a flood on them locusts, lice, frogs, and blood; I would even try to give them a new skin every time fire consumed it.”

Having summoned generals and unit commanders he ordered them to proceed to old Cairo. Setting it on fire, they started to pillage and put to death any of the inhabitants they captured. Slaves, Turks. Maghribis, and all other categories of soldier, they all headed for Fustat. When the inhabitants heard the news, they all clustered together and defended themselves: they managed to stop the fire at the edge of town. The fighting between slaves and people went on for three whole days. Each day al-Hakim went outside the city and watched the scene from the hills, listening to all the shouting and demanding detailed information. Slaves are burning and pillaging old Cairo, he was told. Al-Hakim looked upset. “God curse those slaves,” he said. “Who ordered them to do that?” On the fourth day, nobles and shaykhs all gathered in mosques, raised copies of the Qur’an in the air, and started crying and beseeching God Almighty. With that the Turks relented, took pity on them, and started lighting on the side of the people of old Cairo. Actually, most of them were already related by bonds of parenthood or marriage. The slaves were now left to fight on then own. Things turned yet more grave, and fighting intensified. The Kutama and Turkish soldiers gained the upper hand. They sent al-Hakim a message. “We are slaves and mamluks,” it said. “This is part of your country, and we ourselves have family, property, children, and estates here. We have never known its people to commit the kind of crime that would require such appalling treatment. If there are other factors of which we are unaware, then tell us and wait for us to leave with our families and property. If the actions of your slaves contravenes your instructions, then allow us to deal with them like renegades and criminals.” To which al-Hakim sent a reply, saying that he had never desired any such thing and called down curses on whoever it was had given such orders. “You are right to defend the people of old Cairo,” his message went on. “I hereby authorize you to help them and attack the people who have mounted this assault.” Simultaneously al-Hakim sent a secret message to the slaves, telling them to stick to their orders; he also replenished their supply of weapons, In so doing, his intention was to set them against each other and thus make use of the one as an instrument
of vengeance on the other. People soon realized what he was doing. The Kutama and Turks suit him another message. “We understand what your intentions are,” it said. “This will lead to the destruction of this country and its people and of you too. It is not right for us to surrender ourselves and other Muslims and to watch as women are murdered and property destroyed. If you do not call them off, we will burn Cairo itself, and we will ask the Bedouin and others to support us!” While al-Hakim was listening to this last message, they had already gained the upper hand against the slaves. He got on his donkey, rode into the space between the two groups, and ordered the slaves to leave. Once they had gone, he summoned the Kutama, Turks, and senior citizens of old Cairo and apologized to them all. He swore he was innocent of responsibility for what the slaves had done and thus broke his own solemn oath. They in turn kissed the ground at his feet and thanked him. They demanded a guarantee of safety for the people of Fustat, and he duly wrote one for them; it was read out from the pulpits of mosques. So the fighting came to an end. People reopened their markets and resumed their lives. A third of the quarter had been burned, and half of it pillaged. People started seeking out the soldiers who had made off with their wives, daughters, and sisters and bought them back from slaves, even though they had already been deflowered. Some of the women had actually committed suicide for fear of being dishonored. A group of Alawite notables now petitioned al-Hakim. They pointed out that some of their daughters were still living in misery with slaves, and asked him to get them released. “Find out how much the slaves are asking for them,” he said, “and I’ll give it to you.” One of them said, “May God show you with regard to your own family and children the kind of things we have had to witness with ours. By allowing your own kind to be defiled in this way, you have abandoned all devotion and chivalry, whereas they have never showed you any anger or resentment.” Al-Hakim decided to deal with him kindly. “Noble sir,” he said, “your words are extremely provocative, but we are willing to be tolerant. Otherwise we would become very angry, in which case people would find themselves confronting more and more
surprise because of the multifarious ways in which customs can be flouted and loyalties corrupted.”
²³

Al-Hakim now spent several days in his palace, apparently content. His mood kept swinging from one of sheer delight to a fretful calm. He frequently took violet oil baths, reciting to himself:

“Thus narrows the wound and memories of degradation,

With images filled with flame that bum unchecked.

With the advent of a terror that overwhelmed face and heart,

Punishment with smoke, chaff, and whirling ash.”

2. Sultana, Mistress of All

For four years following al-Hakim’s murder Sitt al-Mulk controlled state affairs. She restored prosperity to the royal house, filled the treasury with funds, and gave a number of men assignments. Then she fell ill; a disease of the digestion caused her to become dehydrated, and she died. She was knowledgeable, well organized, and highly intelligent.

Ibn al-Sabi,

Book of History—Completion of Thabit Ibn Sinan’s Book of History

Sitt al-Mulk arranged for someone to assassinate him [al-Hakim] during one of his nocturnal excursions. The caliph was killed, but the whole thing was kept secret until the Feast of the Sacrifice in
A.M.
411. Shi‘i apologists believe that he is in occultation and will inevitably return; concealed for the time being in his absence, he will surely be restored to his former position.

Ibn al-Qalanisi,

Afterword to the History of Damascus

Sitt al-Mulk was the daughter of the Fatimid caliph. al-‘Aziz bi-Allah. She was much beloved by her father, the apple of his eye, and object of his greatest affection after God Himself. Whenever he felt beset by worries
and problems, she would be his stalwart support. When al-’Aziz died, the During the dark years of her brother’s reign (by the same father), Sitt al-Mulk was still able to radiate an aura of beauty, intelligence, and grace. Her star shone with the many hopes not only of the oppressed and cloistered women of Egypt but also of all classes of folk who adored her and referred to her as Mistress of the Kingdom, Sultana, and Lady of All.

Her beauty!

Poets composed odes that extolled her far and wide, to be repeated by bards and buffoons alike at their soirees and clubs. However none of these people (nor her many other admirers) dared mention her by name for fear of coming to a quick and gruesome end at the hands of her vengeful brother, lord and master of all. So they took to using various kinds of allusive phrase, such as: Treasuretrove of Glamor, Maid of Sunrise, Visage to Die For. They would vie with each other to describe her, pointing to her magnificent hair, her wonderful poise, exquisite waist, beautifully apportioned shoulders, and straight back. Her eyes were compared to those of gazelles and fawns, her neck to that of a silver ewer, her legs to palm branches, and her hair either to thick, unplaited silk or to clusters of ripe grapes. In addition to poets there were others who wrote belles-lettres and rhyming prose about her, penning such passages as, “She is slim, svelte and lovely, taut as a whip and lively, tall as a reed and comely.” They would make use of prophetic imagery to describe her: “Her leg is visible from beyond the flesh of beauty.” Adherents to the faith noted that certain unbelievers only needed to set eyes on Sitt al-Mulk’s lovely face in order to regard its exquisite form as sure evidence of God’s existence; they immediately expressed a belief in God and became Muslims of the Fatimid persuasion. Those people who had neither access to descriptive eloquence nor a portion of the pearls uttered by renowned poets could only gaze on every limb of her blessed body and proclaim, “All praise be to God!”

Based on evidence from everyone who was fortunate enough to attend her councils or stand close to her whenever she appeared, passed
by, or spoke, Sitt al-Mulk used to radiate scents of perfume and musk People are unanimous in stating that these fragrances emanated from the holy plants of paradise itself; they were not the products of human craft but came solely from her unique body and the scents that wafted through the gardens of her small palace. Everyone who approached her was stunned. “Can such fragrance really be for me?” they would ask themselves, whereupon they would render her all obeisance and admiration. Among the most prominent of these admirers were Najd al-Husayn ibn Da’us, chief of the Kutamis; Abu al-Hasan ‘Ammar Khatir al-Mulk, senior minister; Muzaffar, who had charge of her majesty’s shade; Nasim, master of her majesty’s closet; Ibn Miskin, lancer-in-chief, and others. As a rule Sitt al-Mulk paid no attention to poetry written about her, but some of the more brilliant odes did manage to reach her ear in extracts. Some of these she would cherish; those that were the most sincere and modest she committed to memory. Here is an example; the majority of the poem is lost, as is the identity of its author and transmitter. When she was on her own or feeling downhearted, isolated flashes of poetry would come to her:

    From the handsome knight who courts the rose,

    These words; I come to you after season of decline and gloom

    To declare that the bitter cold will no longer hold sway,

    Nor the iron grip of drought. Dearly beloved, I beseech you

    To root out the absurdity that controls your steps, one by one,

    By the sea and the Lord of the Ka’ba I beseech you.

    From Dhu al-Nun al-Hamza, ascetic of tattered garments,

    The eater of barley on plates of exile.

    The lover who has lost kerchief and felicity,

    The ecstatic dwarf,