The Islam Quintet

by Tariq Ali

  I looked at him in surprise. There was a twinkle in his eye, but how would Jamila receive the news of the intended exploration? She had not shared the Sultan’s bed for many years, and the look on his face made it clear that this was what he had in mind.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The story of Amjad the eunuch and how he managed to copulate despite his disability

  ASHTARA, THREE DAYS’ JOURNEY south of Damascus, lies on a plateau that crowns a large hill. We had been there for almost a month. The Sultan was delighted with the progress being made by the soldiers. While there would always be differences between the units gathered under his command, he now felt that they understood how he wanted to fight the war. Much time had been spent explaining the meaning of different signs and sounds. Each unit assigned a member to watch the Sultan’s tent. For troops at a distance, the ability to understand what the shifting banners signified was as much a matter of life and death as a correct interpretation of the drumroll was for soldiers in closer proximity to the Sultan. All this took time to explain to the emirs and nobles in command of the different units and squadrons of Salah al-Din’s armies.

  One day after morning prayers, he breakfasted in his tent with only Taki al-Din and myself in attendance. He looked his nephew in the eye, saying with a laugh: “The dust that rises when my army marches to al-Kuds will eclipse the sun!”

  This was the only time that I saw him excited by the prospect of war. He had embarked on the conflict at this particular moment, not because military strength favoured him, but for reasons of state. He had behind him the most united army of Believers ever raised to defeat the infidel. There were Jews and Christians as well, but their numbers were small. Many of them were simply waiting for an opportune moment to convert to the faith of the Prophet of Islam. Not the Copts, however. Their strong beliefs and implacable hostility to Rome and to Constantinople made them Salah al-Din’s natural allies.

  I was walking away from the Sultan’s tent when Amjad the eunuch took me by the arm and whispered: “Ibn Said, the mute, desires your attendance.”

  I followed him without a word. I had still not become used to Jamila’s new identity. Only when her eyes twinkled did I recognise the woman behind the disguise. That and her voice, which could only be heard in the secrecy of her tent.

  “Salah al-Din tells me that he shocked you, confessing the desire for me that was filling his loins a few nights ago. True?”

  I could never get used to this woman. She invariably took me by surprise. Amjad the eunuch laughed at my discomfiture. How in heaven’s name could I reply?

  “The truth, Ibn Yakub. As always, the truth!”

  “I was not shocked by the Sultan’s announcement that he wished you to share his bed again. That was normal for him. You are very beautiful and...”

  She became impatient.

  “And I’m the only woman in the camp. Yes, yes, I am aware of this fact, but what was it that shocked you, master scribe?”

  “It was the thought of how degrading it might be for you if you were compelled to submit to the desires of a man.”

  She smiled and stroked her false beard.

  “I thought as much, and it was noble of you to feel a sense of shock at my predicament. As you can see, I survived the experience. I am used to your Sultan. I could not have submitted my body to any other man—or, for that matter, a eunuch.”

  Amjad the eunuch flinched as if he had been touched by fire. He appeared upset by her remark. Realising this, she stroked his head and whispered an apology, immediately putting him on the defensive.

  “Trying to persuade Amjad to talk about his past is like pulling a tooth from the mouth of a crocodile.”

  The eunuch smiled, pleased with her attention. She continued to press him.

  “Who knows whether any of us will live or the over the next few weeks? Today you must tell us your story, Amjad. We have the advantage of the scribe’s presence. Ibn Yakub will write it all in his little book, and you will be immortalised for the future. What say you to this, my red-haired friend?”

  It was now for the first time that I observed Amjad’s features. The reddishness of his hair was emphasised by the whiteness of his skin. His eyes were grey. He was much taller than me, and I am taller than the Sultan. I had never been interested in him as a person, but his closeness to Shadhi and Jamila mirrored my own affections. I too appealed to him directly.

  “Amjad,” I said. “Shadhi often spoke with me about you. He had a high regard for your intelligence and yet, despite this, we know little of each other. Who are you? When did you come to Damascus, and how did you end up in the citadel as a retainer of the Sultan?”

  His eyes became melancholic and he sighed, before speaking in his soft, unbroken voice.

  “The reason I have resisted the Sultana’s previous injunctions to speak of myself is because I know very little of my past. I am a saqalabi, that much is clear from my appearance, and I am a eunuch, which almost reduces me to the level of a caged animal.

  “As you are both no doubt aware, people like me come in different shapes and sizes. There are some eunuchs whose entire penis has been removed. This variety is popular amongst those kings and sultans who watch their women like tigers, ready to pounce on them at the first signs of betrayal. They imagine that a eunuch whose organ has been completely removed can, for that reason, be trusted completely. Strange how the degree of trust for some nobles and emirs is dependent on the degree to which a eunuch has been mutilated. If they really wanted to avoid all physical contact between a eunuch and a woman they would have to eliminate more than a poor penis. Fingers, toes and the wonderfully agile tongue would also need to be removed. But I have long given up studying the inconsistencies of emirs and sultans.

  “There are others like me, who are simply castrated and sold to churches. We are taught to sing in praise of Isa, and in our spare time we gratify the carnal desires of priests and bishops. Fate favoured me. I did not undergo any such ordeal. I was castrated when I was four or five years old, bought by Jewish merchants in the lands of the Bulgars, and sold in the market in Andalus. Here I was bought by another trader, who believed in Allah and the Prophet, and brought me to Damascus. All this I was told by the family to whom I was sold at the age of seven.

  “As the Sultana is aware, our faith expressly forbids the castration of boys or men. So the only way in which the demand for eunuchs can be met by our sultans and emirs is through buying them from churches or freeing them from the tyranny of the priests, after a city has fallen to the followers of the Prophet. Then we become faithful and willing converts to Allah, because we have never been treated better or permitted so much influence and power.

  “The Sultana understands well that intelligence resides not in the penis, but in the brain of a man. To regard eunuchs as powerless purely on the basis of their emasculation is foolish, as many rulers, the late Sultan Zengi amongst them, have discovered to their cost.

  “I know of at least three different cabals of eunuchs in the citadel alone. They are loyal to the Sultan, yet after he dies they will take different sides in the struggle for the succession. I belong to none of them and, for that reason, am both trusted and mistrusted by all. It is a happy position because they tell me what I wish to know, but keep secret their plots. That also pleases me. If I was aware of any plan to kill al-Afdal, I would inform the chamberlain without hesitation.

  “You, wise and good Ibn Yakub, asked of my childhood memories. Alas, I have no recollection of my parents or when and why they sold me. Perhaps they were poor peasants and needed money. There are several eunuchs in Damascus who have told me stories of how they were castrated by their own parents, and sold to merchants acting on behalf of the Patriarch of Constantinople.

  “I have no memory of the voyage from the land of the Bulgars to Andalus, or from those parts to Damascus. I was sold by the trader who had bought me in Andalus to the merchant, Daniyal ibn Yusuf. His family treated me kindly. I was taught how to read and write as if I w
as their own child. They clothed me and made sure I was well fed. I always knew I was different from the rest of the family because I did not sleep in the house. I lodged in the quarters allocated to the cook. They were always hot and dominated by an offensive odour, which emanated from the body and clothes of the cook. He never mistreated or abused me and, since he was a good cook, I forgave him the unpleasant smell.

  “By the time I was sixteen, the master commented that I had a natural ability with figures and he took me out of the house. Every morning I would accompany him to his work in the suk, where he owned two shops. The first sold expensive cloths and rugs: satins and brocades from Samarkand, silk from China, muslin and shawls from India, and Persian rugs.

  “The neighbouring shop sold only swords, and these, too, were of the highest quality. The master told me that one of the swords of the Sultan Salah al-Din had been bought from his shop, though later Shadhi told me that this could not have been the case. All the Sultan’s weapons were specially made to measure by craftsmen attached to the armouries established for this purpose in Cairo and Damascus.

  “What is undoubtedly true is that the cloth shop was visited one day by the Sultana Ismat, may she rest in peace, and her retinue. I am talking now of the time when she was married to the great Nur al-Din and not to our Sultan. I was in the shop that day, and she was impressed by the way I spoke to the ladies who waited on her. I refused to haggle and stuck firmly to the price that had been fixed by my master. I had no idea who these grand ladies were or from whence they came.

  “The Sultana laughed at my impudence and within a week she had me transferred to the citadel. When she discovered I was a eunuch, she was overjoyed. I was attached to the harem as her special messenger to the world outside. After Nur al-Din’s death, she married our Sultan. The rest you know. I am sorry that my life has been so uneventful.”

  I could now see why Amjad was so highly valued by those who trusted his discretion. He knew many of the darker secrets of life in the citadel, but had refused to divulge them. Perhaps it was my presence that inhibited him. Perhaps he did not wish to speak out of turn while Jamila was present, for then she might think that if he could talk about others in front of her he could easily do the same about her to others, and trust would be destroyed.

  That same day, following the evening meal, I resisted all attempts to make me join the various games with which the soldiers amused themselves. I was not in a mood to enjoy the company of my fellow men. Morbid thoughts had begun to crowd my mind. I returned to my tent and began to meditate on the stage my life had reached. Might it not be prematurely cut short in the weeks and months ahead?

  The tent itself began to feel oppressive and, anxious to rid my head of cobwebs, I decided to walk out into the night, to regain my inner calm by breathing the cold night air and watching the movement of the stars.

  I had sat down on a little mound and was thinking of Rachel, when a hand tapped my shoulder. I had thought I was alone and the touch sent a shock-wave of fright through my body. In times like this, one thought of Franj spies, but the voice was familiar.

  “My heartfelt apologies for frightening you, Ibn Yakub. I, too, found the camp very restricting tonight and decided to follow you here. I should have made my presence known earlier, but I felt you needed to be alone for a while.”

  It was Amjad. Relief dissipated the anger I had felt at being followed in this sly fashion. He had done so for a purpose.

  “I could feel that you did not fully trust the account of my life that I gave you and the Sultana this morning.”

  I reassured him that this was not the case. I had no reason to doubt his veracity. My dissatisfaction, for it was nothing more, had arisen because I felt instinctively that he knew a great deal more than he had cared to divulge. Jamila had felt this more strongly than myself, and had been irritated by what she characterised as Amjad’s refusal to take sides on any issue. The eunuch smiled when I informed him of her annoyance.

  “I know why she was angry. In the past I have told her everything. What used to interest both her and the Lady Halima was my inability to enjoy the delights of the bedchamber.

  “One day their intense questioning led to an insistence on both their parts that I bare what remained of my genitals so that they could examine them closely. I was reluctant, but their pressure became relentless. Ultimately I acceded to their outrageous demand. Their inspection did not last long, but they used the fact to blackmail me. Unless I kept them informed of all the activities in which the other ladies in the harem were engaged, they would tell the Sultan that I had shown them the remains of my penis. It was Halima who half-threatened me in this fashion. Jamila saw the fear on my face and immediately sought to reassure me that it was a joke and instructed me to forget everything that had taken place.

  “Nonetheless I was regularly questioned by Halima about the other women, and I had to feed her with the odd crumb of information. Often I made something up for her amusement. All was well as long as Halima and Jamila remained close friends. Serious trouble only erupted when their relationship had come to an end. Halima told some of her new friends what I had said about them, and one evening five of them, watched by Halima who had incited them in the first place, surrounded me, and proceeded to whip me on my bare back. I still bear the marks of that humiliation.

  “Two people helped me greatly after that ordeal. When I told him what I had suffered, Shadhi became so angry that he wanted to tell the Sultan. I had to use all my wiles to stop him, but I think he sent a message to Halima warning her that if she carried on in this fashion she would be spending the rest of her days in a tiny hut in a remote village.

  “Jamila, too, was genuinely shocked and upset. As a result we became close friends and, in her presence, I pledged in the name of Allah and our Holy Prophet that I would never tell tales again.

  “Till a few weeks ago Jamila helped me honour this pledge. Then suddenly one evening, and without any warning, she began to question me about Halima. I kept quiet and shook my head. My silence upset her and we did not speak again till this morning. Presumably she thought that in your presence my tongue might loosen. I am aware of what she wishes to know and I understand her motives, but I am bound by a vow before Allah. I had no alternative but to disappoint her.”

  Listening to him that night under the stars I could understand how Shadhi and Jamila had been seduced by the soft voice of this eunuch. Now he had me under his spell. I was intrigued by his teasing references to Halima. What could he know? What did he know?

  “I too am dismayed by your story, Amjad. I can see why Shadhi wanted to tell Salah al-Din. It would have ended the matter immediately. I fully respect your vow not to tell tales, and I have no desire that you breach your oath. Yet surely what Jamila wished to know was the truth about Halima. Your pledge concerned inventions and lies. Am I not correct?”

  He did not reply for some time, and suddenly the majestic silence of the desert night became oppressive. I was about to rephrase and repeat my question, when he began to speak again.

  “You are correct, as usual, Ibn Yakub, but what Jamila wanted to know involved my own person. If I had told her the whole truth it would have killed her regard for me, which means a great deal. In fact, I treasure it more than anything else in this world. The sad truth is that one night, when I was fast asleep, Halima entered my bedchamber. She removed the gown that covered her nakedness, lay down beside me, and began to stroke my body and fondle that which she and Jamila had once, long ago, inspected from a distance.

  “In the name of Allah, I swear to you, Ibn Yakub, that for quite some time I thought I was dreaming. It was only when she mounted me and began to move up and down on this little dateless palm-tree between my legs, that I realised it was all real, but by then, even if I had wished, it was too late to resist or complain. Even the strongest doubts can be drowned by pleasure. After it was over she left. We had not managed to exchange a single word. I felt like an animal. Perhaps she felt the same disgust that ove
rcame me, but perhaps not.

  “She returned several times, and we coupled in silence. It ended as it had begun. Abruptly. Afterwards we used to avert our eyes whenever we saw each other, but she avoided me and, as I later heard, used to mouth obscenities at my expense to her new friends. One of them, who later fell out with her, told me that Halima had confessed to all of them that mounting me was the only way she could rid herself of the spectre of Jamila which she encountered everywhere.

  “Nothing remains secret in the harem. I am convinced she was followed and malicious tongues informed Jamila, who, not unnaturally, wanted a confirmation or denial from my own lips. I could not oblige her, Ibn Yakub. It would hurt her a great deal and demean our friendship. For me, one afternoon spent in conversation with Jamila is worth all my nights with Halima. They are not even delights I could measure on the same scale. Jamila’s intellect affects me like an aphrodisiac. When she laughs with me the sun shines on my heart. She is the one I truly love, and I would happily the at her command. Now you know it all. My guilty secret is out at last.”

  I was stunned by Amjad’s confession. Where I had failed, a eunuch had succeeded. I looked at the stars, silently praying for the heavens to fall. I wanted to smother all memories.

  That night I was awakened by a dream. I was being castrated by a woman whose face was disfigured by an ugly leer. It was Halima.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Divisions within the Franj are brought to our notice

  TWO OF OUR SPIES within the Franj camp, both merchants of the Coptic persuasion, had informed Taki al-Din of developments within the Kingdom of Jerusalem. It was being torn asunder by a furious battle between the two principal knights of King Guy. Count Raymond of Tripoli was advising the King to be cautious and defensive, which meant staying in Jerusalem and not marching out to fall straight into the trap being prepared by Salah al-Din. The King himself was more inclined to the view championed by Reynald of Châtillon. This knight had smelt blood. He questioned the integrity of Count Raymond, accusing him of being a friend of Salah al-Din and a false Christian. Reynald believed that the balance of strength favoured the Franj. He argued that their knights and foot-soldiers could outmanoeuvre and outflank the Sultan’s armies.