The hall fell silent when the Chamberlain entered and announced the Sultan. For the occasion Rujari had discarded his Arab robes and, like his Barons, was dressed as a Christian knight, the crown resting firmly on his head. Everybody present rose to greet the King in three different languages. Rujari nodded and the trial began. The prisoners, chained to each other with Philip at their head, were brought into the hall. He walked in with his head raised high, prepared to meet the eyes of the Sultan or his Barons. It was they who averted their gaze. Ten eunuchs known to be close to him were charged with exactly the same offences. They, too, conducted themselves with dignity.
The prosecuting judge, who had once worked for Philip, rose and listed the charges. ‘Philip al-Mahdia, you and those creatures by your side are charged with having betrayed the trust placed in you by King Roger. You are accused of having aided our enemies in Mahdia and Bone in Ifriqiya. You are accused of having concealed your real faith from the King and his court. Beneath the cloak of a Christian you behaved like a child of Satan. In mind and deed you followed the doctrines of Muhammad and you instructed the State treasury to give unlimited amounts of money to maintain the mosques in good condition. You sent special emissaries with offerings to the tomb of Muhammad. When it was suggested that this money be registered in the records, you dismissed the suggestion with an arrogant wave of your hand.
‘You frequently attended the synagogues of the Evil Ones and provided them with oil to fill their lamps. You offered them all the assistance they needed to practise their abominable faith. At the same time you rarely set foot and even then unwillingly in the churches of God. You ostentatiously ate meat on Fridays and during Lent.
‘The King was alerted to your infidelity when it was reported to him how you had permitted Muslim scholars and pious men to flee to their villages after you had conquered Mahdia and Bone. It is reported that you punished some of your own soldiers when you saw them taking a few women prisoners for their personal enjoyment.
‘And lastly, Philip al-Mahdia, we will produce witnesses who will swear on al-Quran that you have been a secret Muslim all your life. Your conversion was false. What trust can the King put in you after all these events? You were brought up in this palace and the King loved you like a son. You rose to the highest position in the land after the King. And you have brought disgrace on him. What do you say to all this?’
While the indictment was read the Amirs and the other Believers were restless. Their discontent was reflected in excessive shuffling, a regular clearing of throats, occasional sighs and at least two loud farts, all of which combined to produce a distinctly uncongenial atmosphere. As Philip prepared to address the court there was total silence. Whereas the prosecutor had addressed the court in stilted Latin, Philip spoke in fluent Arabic. ‘I did not betray the Sultan’s trust. This Sultan has, till now, been kind to me and regardless of what happens today I wish to state that Sultan Rujari Ibn Rujari has been a just ruler. He has treated all the people of this island well, regardless of their faith. He has never insisted, till now, that prisoners be brutalised and their women violated. So I reject the principal charge you bring against me, to the effect that I betrayed the trust of our ruler.
‘Nothing I did was in secret. Yes, I provided oil for the synagogues. The Sultan knew and approved. Yes, I did not permit the decline of the eighty remaining mosques in Palermo. The Sultan accompanied me once to see for himself the improvements in the Ayn al-Shifa mosque of this city. When you say I was hardly in church you speak a deliberate untruth and may God forgive you. The Sultan knows how many times I attended his own chapel. He knows how often I went to the church he has built in Cefalu at every stage of its construction.
‘Let us proceed to the next charge. I was too lenient to prisoners in Ifriqiya. I plead guilty. I treated them as I would treat any human being. The fighting was over. We had won an important victory. The Zirid dynasty crumbled to dust before my eyes. Had I been soft-hearted in the course of the battle you would have had cause to bring me before you. But on behalf of this Sultan, I took al-Mahdia, the city of my youth. I will not hide from you the inner pain I felt. That I was instrumental in taking this city gave me no pleasure, but my loyalty to Siqilliya was never in doubt. The Bedouin whom I paid to fight on our side wanted to loot the city indiscriminately and take their pleasure of any woman, young or old, who was not already in hiding. War arouses the lust for loot and human flesh. I gave firm instructions that this should not happen. When these were disobeyed I had three Bedouin and six of our own soldiers flogged in public for rape. Yes, I stood there and watched them bleed. Do I regret that? No. And I would do it again. I think in better times the Sultan would have defended all these actions.
‘I have nothing more to say. I know that the fires that will consume me have already been lit and I am prepared to meet my Maker. I have done nothing of which I am ashamed. My only regret is that I had no opportunity to live among our people because whenever I asked myself how the earth procured the food we eat in order to survive the answer was never in doubt. It was the ordinary peasants on the land who produced the food and from the comfort of this palace, I sometimes envied them their closeness to the earth. I remember mentioning this to many people.
‘To the Sultan I will say this: if I have offended you in any way I beg your mercy and I apologise. I have always been loyal to you and your family. Those who have poisoned your ears with regard to me are the same people who will try and get rid of your sons and the system of administration that your father and you helped to create. Think of that when you watch me in the flames.’
The Barons rose to protest and shouts of ‘Cut off his tongue’ were heard from the mouth of more than one monk. The prosecutor had worked himself into a confected rage.
‘We have a witness who will testify that this man concealed his real faith behind a Christian mask. Bring him in.’
The guards brought in a venerable merchant, Ali ibn Uthman al-Tamimi. He was one of the most respected traders in the city and had attended the mehfil at the Ayn al-Shifa mosque which Philip had attended just before he was arrested. The marks on his face suggested that violence had been inflicted on him.
The merchant was asked to swear on al-Quran that he would speak the truth. He spoke in a very low, broken voice, not daring to face Philip. But he did not mention the meeting. He testified that on a single occasion he had prayed together with Philip at the mosque. The evidence was enough to condemn him. As he was leaving he looked up at Philip with tearful eyes and in a voice that was heard throughout the hall he said: ‘Forgive me. They threatened to rape my ten-year-old daughter.’
At this point Philip, greatly angered by the sight of an old friend who had been humiliated and tortured, demanded to speak. The Sultan nodded. ‘Burn me, if you will, but do not inflict suffering on innocent people. Yes, it is true I was a secret Believer, but my sin lay not in my belief but in my cowardice. I should have told the Sultan and for this I beg your pardon and plead for your mercy. I was very young when I came to the Court and you were so kind to me that I wished to please you in every way. But when I accompanied the Amir George to Mahdia, memories of my childhood overwhelmed me and it was at that time that in my heart I became a Muslim once again. I do not regret my choice. I know you will burn me today for that is the custom of your faith. But before I am sentenced I wish to address the Sultan directly.’