His eyes welling with tears, he indicated that we would indeed be meeting again. At this point the captain yelled that it was time for me to get on board. Praying that my dear friend would be well, I said farewell and headed for a wooden cabin on the deck where I would be able to rest and relax. As the ship set sail, a sailor came over and collected the fare for the journey and a similar sum for taking care of my safety, tending my horse, and ferrying me in private quarters.
7
I SPENT THE ENTIRE VOYAGE tossing and turning, half awake and half asleep; night or day, calm or stormy seas, noisy passengers or complete silence-none of it made any difference. In my mind images and visions were all clashing against one another; all that remained were pictures of my beloved wife and close friends, chief among whom was Al-Shushtari, Imam of the Absolutists.
I have no idea how long the voyage lasted, but at one point the captain came over to tell me that we were reaching port. He also informed me that pirates had stopped the vessel and stolen most of the animals and property on board, my horse and belongings among them. When I looked surprised and alarmed, he made me realize that, like all the other passengers, I should praise God for saving me from a gruesome end and almost certain enslavement. I clutched at my money-belt and was delighted to find that it was still there. With that I disembarked. The angry and fearful expressions on the faces of the other passengers confirmed the captain's story. I was left to wonder at my own amazing ability to distract myself and disappear into other worlds.
I made my way on foot to the closest hotel in the city. As I approached the entrance, two men came up to me and asked me to accompany them to the house of Al-A`ma from Sicily. I had no choice but to go with them, particularly since I was eager to get some up-to-date news on events to the west. After a short walk I found myself facing my host, who was looking glum as he offered me a phony welcome. I sat down with him at a table full of eats and drinks and opened the conversation by asking him about Sabta, Ibn Khalas, and my family.
"Saint of God," he replied with a frown as he urged me to eat something, "things in Sabta are really bad. After we both left, there was a severe famine that killed off lots of humans and cattle. It had been preceded by a prolonged drought that had already led to a number of disturbances and two deaths. The news about Ibn Khalas is equally bad. He found himself beset by a number of intrigues masterminded by Abu al-Qasim al-'Azmi, all with the encouragement of Amir alMurtada, Ali al-Sa`id's successor. The famine deprived him of all authority over the city, so he fled along with his family. God knows best, but people said that they had no idea where he went. In my opinion he probably took a boat here so he could seek the protection of the great [Hafsid] sultan Abu Zakariyya."
I interrupted his account to ask about my own family. His expression changed, and he looked a bit happier.
"Master," he went on, your wife's fine. She's staying with her family in Tangier. Her only wish is to see your beloved visage once again. But you'll not be able to go back home until you have completed the pilgrimage, or rather until the rage of the new governor of Sabta has abated somewhat and the tribulations of Ibn Khalas's supporters come to an end. Both you and I are considered as being among the major escapees. So, Ibn Sabin, be very, very careful! It would be absolutely fatal for you to consider returning to the Maghrib until the collapsing dynasty of the Almohads comes to its final end!"
From my facial expression it was not hard for him to deduce that I was both anxious and perplexed.
"For the next three days or so," he said, "you should stay here and not go out. After the tiring voyage you have just had, you can relax and get some rest. If you wish, you can go to the quarter's mosque, but only if you agree not to talk to the worshippers, give any lessons, or start any debates. The jurist al-Sukuni has his eyes firmly fixed on both you and me. If you do anything contrary to what I've just told you, I'm the one who'll be punished for it. Ever since I arrived in Tunis, this jurist has made it clear to me that a condition for his facilitating an audience with the sultan for me is that you should leave the city as soon as possible."
I realized that there was no point in arguing and indicated my agreement to the terms he had laid out. I now asked to spend some time on my own and was assigned a room. It was almost sunset, so I said my farewells, made for the room, and locked the door behind me. I did my ablutions so I could pray and bolster my sagging spirits.
Staying with my good friend Al-Shushtari had been both a boon and a source of relaxation, but this time spent with Al-A`ma from Sicily was anything but; I felt alarmed and scared. This man was a past master when it came to political intrigues and conspiracies; he could easily turn me in and cause my downfall. Not only that, but he could steal my money and spirit, all in return for a bit of favoritism that he might be able to glean from people who were eager to ensnare me and have my head. Indeed, the very next morning at breakfast, my host intimated to me that he had lost his eyesight when a saint of God who had been one of his enemies had called down a curse on him. If it were not for the fact that he was scared in case a similar disaster should befall him, he would certainly have stolen my money and handed me over to the most vicious of my enemies. I refrained from offering him my thanks so that he would not realize that I was actually poking fun at him. At the same time I decided not to tell him that I wanted to meet the Hafsid sultan. That was especially the case after he told me the following:
"The sultan rarely meets people who come to see him. That even applies to people like myself who have served him well and done their utmost to obey him and satisfy his interests. People say that it's because he's ill, or else there's another explanation known to God alone."
I told him that I had made up my mind to leave at dawn.
"That's a good idea, Saint of God," he said with a smile. "To make up for the things you've had stolen, I'll sell you my horse and other things you need. You can take a boat to Alexandria at dawn tomorrow. That's safest for both of us."
There was still enough of the day left to go to the hammam and wash myself. After that I headed for a nearby mosque to pray. But no sooner had I performed my obligations and made ready to leave than two men came up to me. They took turns slapping me on the face. "You heretic," they said, "you refuse to allow polygamy; you forbid cutting off thieves' hands and stoning male and female adulterers! You permit usury and other things forbidden by God! May the Almighty Judge curse your heterodoxy!"
I decided that it would be wise to restrict my reaction to giving these two provocateurs an angry stare and to leave the mosque with a straight back and firm resolve. After I had made a rapid tour of the city and undertaken certain specific tasks, I made my way back to the house. Once there I allowed my mind to wander and to contemplate a number of things, not least the huge chasm separating the current era with all its negative aspects from the ideal model. The possibility of a meeting with the Hafsid sultan, which I had envisioned as a means of helping the cause of Andalus in its current crisis, had now turned out to be a pipe dream, in fact the fourth in the category of sheer impossibilities. Any hope that I had had of spreading beneficial knowledge among students and ordinary people had now gone up in smoke as well. The only way I could find of surmounting the waves of constraint and sorrow was by reciting Qur'anic verses and prophetic hadith that can always give one a lift and provide nourishment. To these recitations I added some section from the Book of Stations [Kitab al-Mawagif] of AlNiffari and verses by my beloved friend Al-Shushtari.