‘So I say farewell to you my friends. Always think carefully before you act. Take everything into consideration. And one last thing for you Master Idrisi. Your hot-headed sons-in-law are preparing to take arms against the Sultan. That is what my men report from Siracusa and Noto. Naturally, I have stopped this information from being circulated, but urge them to be cautious. This is the wrong moment. And a last word of advice. The most dangerous man at the palace, because he is the cleverest, is Antonio, the monk from Canterbury, who was taught his trade by men cleverer than himself. He is not interested in wine, women or worldly goods. His only cause is to ensure the Nazarene triumph against Believers. Whenever I spoke with him, I felt I was being questioned by my executioner. He is a gentle fanatic, but don’t be deceived. He never relaxes his faith, never doubts his God and will happily sacrifice himself to advance his cause. That is what makes him different from the corrupt and indolent monks native to this island. Master Idrisi smiles. Yes, my friend, he is not unlike me, except that my concern is to safeguard our people as best I can. Antonio is afflicted by a religious passion and that, I’m afraid, always verges on insanity, no matter what the religion. That is why I fear him the most and so should you. I think he will be present at my trial. I wonder whether the island you describe as being total darkness nonetheless produces men whose inner light makes their souls shine.’
And with these words Philip and the Chief Eunuch departed, leaving the rest of the company in a state of mute shock. Idrisi felt the qadi’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Could you not intercede with the Sultan on his behalf?’
He nodded silently. As he left the room Ibn Fityan joined him and the two men walked in silence through the inner courtyard and out into the street. When he finally reached his house he was greeted by the soft sound of the flute. He paused before the door as Ibn Fityan asked his worried question: ‘Amir Philip refused to leave the island?’
Idrisi’s sad eyes turned towards his servant and the eunuch knew that it was too late to save Philip. The door opened. Thawdor had sighted them and the music had ceased.
‘Bring your son to me, Thawdor,’ instructed Idrisi.
The man did as he was asked. The boy fell on his knees and attempted to kiss Idrisi’s feet, but he stepped aside, took the boy by the arm and raised him to his feet. ‘Never do that again, Simeon ibn Thawdor. You are not a slave. Have you recovered from the journey?’
‘Yes, master,’ the boy replied with downcast eyes.
‘I have spoken with your father. You will come with me to the palace where I have arranged for you to be taught how to read and write.’
The boy looked up and smiled. ‘I am grateful, sir, but I am equally happy to go to the madresseh. I do not wish to trouble you any more.’
‘Why should you trouble me?’
‘The palace is for the children of the Sultan and I am not fit to learn with them.’
The men burst out laughing, before Ibn Fityan reassured him, ‘Do not worry about that, young man. You will learn with children who are not so different from you. The palace contains the children of all those who work for the Sultan. That’s where I was taught Arab grammar and Greek. What would you like to learn?’
‘Music,’ replied the boy without hesitation.
His father was incredulous. ‘Music?’
‘Yes, father. Music,’ the boy replied.
Idrisi intervened. ‘Listen to me, boy. I have heard you play the flute and I have no doubt that Allah has blessed you with the gift. You play well and you should also learn to play the lute, which will test your skills. There is a great master in Palermo, whose father, also a great musician, was known to my family. I will speak with him and he will teach you the art, but he will do so twice a week. For the remaining days you must learn grammar and logic. Believe me, it might even help with your music.’
The boy was overjoyed. ‘Is the name of the master Abu Salim?’
Idrisi was surprised. The boy was more knowledgeable than he had imagined. ‘It is the same. Have you heard him play the lute?’
The boy nodded. ‘Once I was walking past the tavern, the one close to where the boats are tied, and I heard music which sounded as if it came from heaven. I sat outside and listened for nearly two hours. I asked a man who came out swaying from one side to the other who the musician was. He hit me on the head and said there was only one man who could bring the lute to life like that and it was Abu Salim. Never forget that name, the man said, because you might never hear him again. I never did, even though I often walk past that place, hoping he will be there.’
Thawdor and his son were dismissed with an affectionate touch on the head for the boy. ‘I will keep an eye on you from afar. Ibn Fityan will keep me informed about your progress.’
After they had left, Idrisi signalled to Ibn Fityan that he should sit down. ‘Tell me, who in the palace amongst the Nazarenes is closest to the Sultan?’
‘None of them are close in the way Philip was or you are, master. But it is the pale monk, Antonio of Canterbury, who has the Sultan’s ear. Because he is not from here, the Sultan believes his advice is disinterested. He does not ask for lands or money. He lives simply. They tell me that it was he who advised the Sultan to burn Amir Philip.’
Idrisi had seen Antonio moving around the palace, but had not properly registered his presence. Nor had the Sultan mentioned him, not even once. The Sultan was fearful. That could be the only explanation.
Ibn Fityan coughed discreetly. ‘There is talk in the palace, master, of which you should be informed.’
‘Speak, man. Speak.’
‘There is a plan to kill Antonio.’
‘Whose foolish idea is this? Philip will be enraged. It will not help him. Is the Chief Eunuch aware of this?’
‘He is, but could not convince the others. They intend to kill him tonight or tomorrow and…’
‘And?’
‘The plan is to blame Antonio’s murder on the Greek monks who despise him even more than we do. The story that the eunuchs will circulate is that Antonio was caught in a delicate situation with a young monk and when his real lover realised this, he killed them both.’
‘Is there any truth in this story?’
‘None whatsoever, Amir al-kitab.’
‘So there will be two murders.’
‘If Allah wills.’
‘Allah has not willed this any more than he has willed Philip’s death. These are decisions taken by men on this earth and in Palermo. And both are wrong.’
‘It is too late, master. There is nothing we can do. If you were to warn the Sultan, you would betray my confidence and that of the Chief Eunuch. We would all die together.’
Idrisi could see the logic of this only too well. He would have a bath and reflect on the crisis about to grip the island.
It was while he was soaking in the hammam that he realised the importance of what Philip had said earlier that afternoon. The best way to maintain the presence of Believers in Siqilliya was to support the Hauteville family who had seized the island through a combination of warrior-skills and luck — and the eternal fact: the followers of the Prophet were divided. This last was the real cause of defeat in Palermo and Jerusalem. Which city would fall next? Ishbilia or Gharnata? The sun would grow dark and the oceans boil before Believers would ever unite against an enemy of the faith and then it would be too late.