‘Then, we shall destroy the Greeks?’ Edward asked.
I smiled at his sudden fierceness. ‘Yes,’ I said quietly, ‘I suppose you will. Am I right to suppose that you’ll be attending Friday prayers tomorrow?’ The boy didn’t answer, but looked down. ‘Well, it’s none of my business if you do. And, if it helps keep you safe from that fucking nephew of yours, I can’t say you’re making a poor choice. Yes – you stick with your great-nephew, Karim. He’ll see you right. Isn’t that so?’ Karim nodded. Of course, the moment Edward got up in that mosque and uttered the irrevocable words, the relationship that Greek law had created between the pair of us would fall to the ground. The bond of fealty, of course, nothing could break. But he’d now be Karim’s brother in the Faith, and there would be none of that joking insistence on being called ‘Great-Uncle Edward’.
‘Will everything be ready for demonstration to the Caliph?’ Karim asked with another revelation of knowledge.
I nodded. ‘You’ll understand that a complete prior demonstration would be helpful,’ I explained. ‘I still don’t know if the kettles will stand up to the full pressure, and it would never do for the Commander of the Faithful to lose his eardrums. But I don’t think we’ll have time. We must all hope that today’s experiment was the success I declared it to be.
‘Oh,’ I said with a sudden change of tone, ‘do tell Meekal when you see him tomorrow that I’ll need another visit to the monastery before the next demonstration. I want another look at those research notes. There was something there that might be useful. Also, I’ll need authority to be taken into every one of the closed zones. When the Caliph does go out to inspect our efforts, we can’t afford any mistakes.’ Karim nodded again.
‘And’ – I wasn’t finished: I looked about for a sheet of papyrus on which I’d been working before dinner – ‘I’ll need all these things brought in here.’ Karim looked at the sheet and frowned. ‘Oh, you’ll get everything here in Damascus,’ I said with airy reassurance. ‘I’ve seen the observatory from one of the windows here that looks over the main city. I would go there myself, if it didn’t mean travelling outside the palace. As Edward can tell you, my researches into the theory of light have reached the point where I need proper instruments. You get me everything on that list, and I’ll see to its positioning up on the roof.’ I finished my wine and looked about the table to see if there was anything left that didn’t require teeth. I reached forward for some olive paste and took up a spoon. I put it down again. I still wasn’t finished.
‘Now,’ I said firmly, ‘while I have no intention of dying in the near future, I do think the time has come for me to finalise a few arrangements that have been in the making for some while.’ I motioned Edward to a wooden box over by the window. I waited for him to open it and take out the two sealed sheets of parchment. ‘I made a new will in Beirut. I see, however, that circumstances have changed. In light of these, I have decided to make over the bulk of my estate while I am still alive. These deeds make the pair of you very rich men.’ While I waited for both seals to be broken, I put my teeth back in and prepared to flatten all objections by clothing myself in the formality of His Magnificence the Senator Alaric. ‘The transfer deeds are made under Imperial law. Regardless of my somewhat doubtful religious status, I remain a citizen of the Empire, and my intentions will be recognised by the Syrian courts under the Ordinance of Omar. They are drawn in a form that makes them irrevocable by any third party – short, that is, of gross despotism. You will both need to add your signatures of acceptance. These can be witnessed when I call in my Greek secretary. Because of his evident youth, there is a rider to Edward’s deed, in which he must certify that he has reached both puberty and the age of fourteen. While he is not entirely sure when he was born, no one is in any position to object if I declare, as his adoptive father, that Edward was fourteen on the 20th April.
‘No’ – I raised a hand to cut off the protests I could see rising – ‘this is my considered intention, and I shall think hard of anyone who objects to it. I fail to see how, for a man of my age, such wealth can be other than an inconvenience. I retain a seventh part of my estate for my own uses. This should be more than adequate. I have given instructions for its disposal in another will that I signed yesterday. You are named as joint executors, and I do ask you to comply with the requirements of the trust I have created. The money is to be used for the purchase and release of slave secretaries who have reached the age of fifty. I have always accepted that an institution so deeply embedded in the life of men as slavery cannot be abolished by positive legislation. Even so, the procedural changes I persuaded Heraclius to make after the Persian War have moved the Empire a reasonable distance towards its effective extinction. I can have no such influence on the laws of the caliphs – especially when their conquests have given such life to the slave markets. But I can hope that a fortune often acquired by dubious means will be put to the service of humanity when I am dead, and that my act can serve as an example to the faithful of every religion.’
I sat back and took my teeth out again. I was finished, and I was weary. Fuck Meekal! In a sense, he was right. My life’s work had been crowned by the development of the most horrid weapons. But, if woefully inadequate, this was my response to the fact. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. When I opened them again, I saw the boys still looking at me in silence. I laughed and made some feeble joke about the virtue of gratitude. I reached for my stick and got myself over to the window. I pulled at the glazed frame and let air into the room and all the distant sounds of the palace and of Damascus. There was the general sound of the outside at twilight. Mingled with this was the sound of a distant drum and of flute music. For several days now, the palace had been filling up with new arrivals. Tomorrow, or the day after, the Caliph would be making his entry, and the relative silence of the palace since our arrival would be at an end. For the moment, the night sounds of revelry were within their accustomed limits.
I gripped the frame to keep myself steady and breathed in deeply. I looked over towards the hills behind which the sun was fast setting. Its departing rays had turned the sky to pink. In a moment, it would be darkness, and we’d have to call the slaves in to fuss with the lamps. It was then I’d have to put off my visor and give myself eyestrain with my lenses. For the moment, we were alone with just enough light for me to turn round, if I were so minded, and look at the worthless luxury of my living quarters.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Edward.
‘Brother Aelric,’ he said in oddly accented English, ‘the hour is late, and you should rest.’
I turned and smiled at him. Karim stood a few paces behind him, a worried look on his face.
‘Yes, it is late,’ I said in Greek. ‘But you won’t believe the amount of work that has still to be done, and that only I can do. Do please go and call the slaves back in. Don’t forget about my Greek secretary. Once you’ve gone out, I will sleep until the midnight hour. I’m then to be woken and helped to my office.
‘Karim,’ I said, back in Saracen, ‘I need those astronomical instruments on the roof at the earliest moment. I shall also need the Director of the Caliph’s observatory to explain their use to me. I imagine the man is a Greek. Certainly, it will be faster if we can work in Greek.’
Chapter 58
I was woken late the following morning by a sound of trumpets. I got myself to the window and looked out. I could see a few men running about below in plate armour. One of them was carrying a large green banner with something white painted on it that I couldn’t make out.
‘His Majestic Holiness will make his entry before the day is out,’ said the slave who’d been sitting beside me as I slept.
I grunted and went back to sit on my bed. The man pulled a cord for the bath slaves to come up, and lifted a cloth off a tray filled with the usual soft foods. I looked at the peeled eggs and the bread that had been carefully extracted from the centre of a loaf. I was about to ask if the books I’d ordered late the pre
vious night had been delivered yet from the Caliph’s library when I saw the sheet of folded parchment on the bedside table. I was about to reach for this when I heard noises overhead. There were footsteps and a heavy bump. I looked up at the glazed ceiling panels, and saw a bearded face looking down at me. I smiled and the face vanished again.
‘Is young Edward around?’ I asked. The words were no sooner out than I saw him just outside the door. ‘Come in,’ I cried with some attempt at vigour. I stopped and drank from the cup of water held to my lips. I looked vaguely about for my slippers. ‘Come in and sit down,’ I said to the boy. ‘I’m sure you can fill me in on all the news.’
Once Edward was done with all he had to relate of any importance, I turned my attention to the letter. It was a summons to a banquet arranged for five evenings away. Meekal had added a note in his own hand that I was to attend both sober and undrugged – but that I’d not be expected this time to play any active part. My job was to smile and bow. He’d then pat me on the head and send me off with an early goodnight kiss.
Sadly, the message didn’t end there. I was being allowed an early night, it explained, because I’d be expected the following morning to go out with Meekal and give my final touches to the project. The day following that, the Caliph would be turning up there some while before noon. He’d watch a full demonstration of the Greek fire, and then ride back to Damascus for Friday prayers. ‘For all our sakes,’ the message ended in an underlined scrawl, ‘let nothing go wrong!’
‘That gives me six sodding days,’ I grumbled. I thought of my seething vats. ‘Telling me to work those round the Caliph’s schedule makes as much sense as telling me to arrange the phases of the moon. The stuff will be ready or not. If not, the Caliph will have to be content with a jet of steam. Doubtless, Meekal can enliven proceedings by sticking a few convicts in front of the jet. Whatever the case, there can be no demonstration of fire until the mix is stable.’
I might have been speaking a new foreign language for all the comprehension I saw on Edward’s face. I grunted and tossed the letter at him. He screwed up his eyes to concentrate on the Saracen script. He could just follow the main invite. That was in a good secretarial hand that avoided contractions. Meekal’s scrawl, however, was still beyond him. I took it back and read, making sure to comment on the unusual sequence of tenses, and how the placing of an adjective in one sentence plainly governed the meaning of the next.
‘I don’t suppose the Angels of the Lord will be putting in an appearance at the banquet or any other proceedings,’ I said. ‘If no one else is, the Commander of the Faithful should be safe from their attentions.’ I laughed and put a whole egg into my mouth. Edward reached forward with a napkin just in time to stop the soft yolk from bursting in his direction. I did my best to suppress the choking fit with another gulp of water, and did still more to look grand again. ‘Unless you’ve had your own invitation,’ I wheezed, ‘I propose to bring you along as my page. Even if you are one of the Faithful by then, I doubt anyone will think ill of that.’
Edward bowed and went back to his description of the ceremonies he’d gone out with Karim to witness. They’d been told the Caliph was already in the palace; he’d apparently made a quiet entry just before dawn, and would put in his first official appearance in Damascus at Friday prayers in the big mosque. Would I be there? he asked with a change of subject. Though separated from the women, I could sit behind the grille and watch as Edward made his profession of faith.
‘What name will you take?’ I asked. ‘I can’t think of an easy equivalent for Edward.’
‘I shall be known henceforth as Moslemah,’ came the proud reply. I grunted again. It was a bold choice – not that it would make any difference with me. Since I still hadn’t bothered to ask for his real name, I’d not be using this one. For our remaining time together – however long that might be – I’d call the boy Edward.
‘You don’t have to answer this,’ I said, now in English. ‘But do you believe a word of all that stuff about Mohammed as the Prophet of God?’
‘And what future would there be for me as a Christian?’ came the reply. It was a good answer.
I shrugged. Eighty years earlier in Canterbury, I’d made a similar decision for myself. In my case, it had been a sprinkle of water, followed by appointment as Father Maximin’s English secretary. If you want to get anywhere in life, you need to identify what religious views are the long-term fashion and accommodate yourself to them. If they turn out to be utterly malign, or just absurd, that’s the luck of the dice.
‘Whatever people tell you,’ I said after a slight pause, ‘the operation hurts, and can put you out of action for a month.’ Edward wrinkled his nose and sat back in his chair, a resigned look on his face. ‘Still, it has to be done. So, take my advice – get it done by a Jewish doctor. The Saracens are more enthusiastic than skilled. And, while we’re on the subject, you might as well get it all out of the way. Double cuts don’t always mean double pain. Would you think it improper if I made you a gift of my own piercing bar? It served me well for longer than most people live. In an emergency, it has other uses too.’
The boy smiled. ‘How serious was your own conversion?’ he asked.
I took advantage of my own resulting silence to massage my gums with some of the bread. I tried to work out which of the untrue accounts might be most suitable. Of a sudden, I decided to tell the truth. He’d had that much on the Tipasa beach, I recalled. He might as well have it all now.
‘It was entirely for the money,’ I said in the safety of English. ‘When the Saracens took Antioch, every bank in the city failed. This left my overall affairs embarrassed. I was tied up with a mass of temporarily worthless land in Constantinople, and was badly in need of ready cash. Luckily, I was on hand not far from Antioch. I was able to hurry over and strike a deal with Omar, who had come out of the desert to see the wonders of his conquests in Syria. I got full compensation – in gold, mind you. In return, I became the first known Western convert.
‘You can be sure I sent Omar my letter of apostasy the moment he was looking the other way. Back in Constantinople, Heraclius had no choice but to believe my story. No one else did, though. The best I could do about the penance was to have the Great Church closed for an afternoon to the unwashed of the city. Still, I had to crawl on my belly – and under the gloating eyes of the entire Imperial Council – across the nave, to where the Patriarch waited with a birching rod.’ I shuddered at the recollection. ‘Omar took the apostasy rather well. I think the Religious Council advised him that my conversion was void on the grounds that I manifestly lacked conviction. I even left much of the gold on deposit in Antioch – a useful move as it turned out. I must say, I thought everyone had long since forgotten the whole business. It was never brought up in any of my subsequent dealings with the Saracens. I’m surprised – and annoyed – it’s now become common knowledge.’
Edward gave me an uncertain look, then changed the subject. That’s the problem with truth much of the time. Lies are often so much more credible.
‘I think you need to get the circumcision done within one Saracen month,’ I said, turning the subject back. ‘Get it out of the way. But make sure first that even you are sated.’ I got another uncertain look. Oh, the happy days of youth! I thought with a pang of envy. I looked at the remains of my breakfast. They could wait. Better than that, they could wait long enough for the bread to go slightly hard. I could then insist on soaking it in wine. I looked up at the rising noise of bangs and heavy treads. ‘Be a good man,’ I said to the slave, who’d stood patiently by throughout my conversation with Edward, ‘and have my bath made ready. After that, I can be taken up on to the roof. I want to supervise the placing of the instruments. Do also ask my Saracen secretary to attend me in the bathroom. I have letters to dictate.’
While I was still dithering over the choice of hot or hotter water in the bath, Karim decided on a call. A pleased look on his face, he perched himself on the ledge of the marble tub
.
‘If you pluck them all out,’ I said to the attendant, ‘I’ll have none left at all. But do rid me of enough purely white eyebrows to give me a younger appearance.’ I peered into the steaming water at my legs. Depilation was off the menu for someone of my age. But another shave all over would see me right up until the day of the banquet. If I stewed here long enough, the few patches of body hair that the years had left me would come off without too much scraping . . .
‘Would My Lord be offended if I dismissed the attendants?’ Karim asked with firm politeness. I looked at the age spots on my right hand and nodded permission for the attendants to withdraw. Karim followed them out and closed the door. He came back and sat again on the marble rim of the tub.
‘Be a dear,’ I said, ‘and pull that lever over there. I don’t want a flood of hot, but a slight trickle might do my heart no damage.’ My arms resting lightly on the rim, I sat back in the bath so that the water came up to my chin. I looked blearily through the steam at Karim.
‘I hear that Meekal wants the Caliph to see the project,’ he began.
I nodded and lifted my right foot above the water. Something I’d discovered with my visor was that it improved my vision even when I wasn’t using it. I explained this in terms of the focusing muscles. For some reason, I didn’t seem to get the same result with any of the lenses I’d now perfected. Light and vision were funny things. Would even I live long enough to arrive at any understanding of their working?
‘I think I see a line of dirt under my big toenail,’ I said. ‘Since there’s no one else to attend to it, would you do your dear great-grandfather the honours with that pointed scraper on a ledge over by the window?’ I gripped the sides of the bath and slid down another two inches to get an easier position for my foot. I spluttered a moment as I breathed in an accidental mouthful of bathwater.
The Sword of Damascus Page 38