"But what happens if he doesn't respond to your request, even if it is authorized by Amir al-Said?"
"At all events," I replied, summoning every ounce of courage, "one has to place one's reliance on God Almighty. The ever-growing power of the Hafsids may also provide us with a way out."
The governor seemed delighted by my reply, which he clearly took to heart.
"The Marinids are just a bunch of vagrant nomads," he said. "You can't possibly rely on them. Their brains are in their swords; they have neither knowledge nor belief system. Their leader, Abd al-Haqq, claims to have performed miracles. The one that causes the most ribaldry is that pregnant women who kiss his headcap and trousers find themselves set free in favor of someone even more beautiful!"
I decided not to comment on my companion's opinion. Instead I invited him to pray the evening prayer with me, and he agreed. No sooner had we finished than I hurriedly said my farewells and thanked him for the way he had welcomed me. As he embraced me, he made every effort to keep his angst-ridden expression hidden from view.
18
ALL THE WAY BACK to my house my mind was churning with clashing sensations: had I followed the right tack in my conversation with Ibn Khalas, or had I strayed too far off course? Had I showed sufficient caution in my assessment of the situation or had I unknowingly been duped? But no sooner had I reached my house than I put the whole thing behind me and decided not to worry about any God-inspired disapproval. I took my horse to its stables, where I found Bilal preparing some fodder and buckets of water. He greeted me warmly, whereupon I apologized for having treated him inadequately on a personal level. After that I headed for the kitchen, attracted by the delicious aromas emerging from it, and checked on the two new servant women working there. I ate some of their cooking standing up, then, after offering them my plaudits, made my way to my wife's quarters.
In our bedroom I found Fayha' seated on the bed looking very glum. When I asked her what was troubling her, she told me that Hafsa's condition in the asylum was very bad indeed. I promised to investigate the situation very soon and leaned over to console her and offer her some comfort. She asked me about my meeting with the governor, and I gave her a short version in which I covered the essentials. She in turn warned me about his coterie and aides, the majority of whom, according to reports, were spies and intriguers. I told her to ignore all that, after which she joined me in some moments of duly sanctioned marital bliss and relaxation.
At noon on the following day the warden of the asylum asked me to come immediately. Once I was standing in his presence, he gave me his condolences on the death of Hafsa; he told me that some two hours earlier she had hanged herself. He took me to the place where her body was laid out and uncovered her face so that I could identify her. There was absolutely no point in asking how she had managed to commit suicide when she was in such a terrible state and palpably incapable of planning and carrying out such a thing. He tried to explain the whole thing as being some kind of terminal gesture and all sorts of other pretexts at which he was clearly a professional. I in turn asked him to prepare a shroud for the dead woman and to make preparations for her burial in the city cemetery.
"My Lord!" he exclaimed in horror, eyebrows raised, "you're a man of the law. You're surely aware of what it has to say about suicides: they may not be prayed over or buried with other Muslims."
"That is a general principle, I agree," I replied. "People who are incompetent, insane, or handicapped are exempt. As you could see for yourself, this woman was clearly mad. There's no reason why you should not respond to my request."
"Were I to do that, Sir," he told me, "I would have all the jurists in the city against me and would immediately lose my job."
I decided there was no point in trying to persuade this man to accept my own posture toward suicide, when he would never be able to comprehend it fully. After several moments' thought, I glared hard at him and asked him what was to be done. His response seemed to be one he had prepared way in advance: "There's a cemetery in the open land between Sabta and Tangier. It belongs to a member of the elite. With the permission from the authorities, perverted people may be buried there. Otherwise all visits are categorically forbidden."
"See to it then!" I told him.
For a moment he said nothing, as though trying to persuade me to understand his position. I asked him how much it would cost, and he gave me an amount. I paid him on the spot, even though I thought it was excessive. He beamed with pleasure and assured me that everything would be done as well as possible, just before sunset on that very day. Taking one last look at Hafsa, I left. Close by the animal stall, a man stopped me and asked for a sum of money in return for revealing secret information that would be important to me. After I had responded to his request, he let me know that this so-called cemetery in the open land was simply the sea, into which they dumped the bodies weighed down with stones. God alone would know where they ended up.
I needed some fresh air!
To find it I rode on horseback alongside the seashore, then into the foothills. My mind was still overflowing with all the events that had happened in the months of Rajab and Sha`ban (which was about to end), some of which had been of major import, affecting the way of life I was currently experiencing: my letter to King Frederic, my truncated lesson in the mosque, 'Abla's marriage and the end of my enforced misdeeds, the meeting with Ibn Khalas in his retreat house, and Hafsa's illness and eventual death. It's time to bring your soul to account, I told myself, and seek some seclusion. What better month could there possibly be than Ramadan, which was about to make its appearance in the sky above?
I turned off toward the mosque in order to spend some time thinking and then perform the evening prayer. No sooner had I completed my ablutions than I found myself surrounded by a group of men, both middle-aged and young, who asked me to hold a session before the call to prayer in the private part of the building so they could be enlightened and enhance their feelings of love toward me.
"There's not much time," I said after thanking them for their sentiments. "All I can do is to rehearse for you the various statements about fasting in the marvelous month that is upon us."
"Esteemed teacher," replied one of them, fully supported by those around him, "we all know by heart the statements about fasting, as well as the different views on ablutions and preparing the dead for burial. We would prefer to hear about the opinions you are supposed to have, that philosophy can serve as a solid base for thought and that Sufism provides a clear sense of direction, both of them uniting as they blend and vanish into the waters of monotheistic belief."
"Is everything that exists known?" asked a second. "If there is a clear contradiction between reason and tradition, which of the two do you choose? Does everything that is known exist, even though it is not referred to in scriptures?"
"Can you confirm or deny the rumor," asked a third, "that you agree with Ibn Hazm of Cordoba in his opposition to Imam Malik ibn Anas and his assertion that the decision of the people of Medina to adhere to the Malikite tradition is a mere case of fanaticism, or, to cite his own words, stupidity?"
"God Himself speaks through the voice of the Queen of Sheba," a fourth of them now said. "She said, `When kings enter a city, they corrupt it and debase its senior citizens. That is what they do.' Do you apply the import of the verse to the rulers of this era of ours, Al-Said, Commander of the Faithful, among them?"
"And what about this hadith," asked a fifth, "After me will be thirty years of the caliphate, and then it will turn into a nasty monarchy'?"