‘When your uncle Walid, who I hope will return home one day so that he can see both of you… when he was ten or eleven years of age we were in a large boat not far from Catania. And the fire-mountain became very active and the sea very rough and I thought we might not survive. But it did not last long and we came to shore safely. Walid asked the same question and I gave the same reply. And he then said what you just told me, young Khalid. So I told him a story that the Greeks used to tell in olden times about the fire-mountain. Are you interested?’
The shining eyes of his grandsons encouraged him to go on.
‘A long, long time ago, the Greeks did not believe that there was only one Allah. They believed in many different gods. The Sultan of their gods was Zeus, who lived on Mount Olympus together with his fellow-gods and goddesses. The people on Earth resented the power of the gods. Why should only they be immortal? Why should they get the best things on earth and transport them to Mount Olympus? So it came about that Mother Earth decided that two giant twins, the Aloeids, who grew six feet taller each year, should steal the food that made the gods immortal, banish them from Olympus and rule the world themselves. Not a bad idea, eh? They captured Ares, the god of war, in Thrace and locked him in an iron chest.
‘But they did not succeed. The wiles of Artemis defeated them and they killed each other by mistake. Mother Earth was really upset, but refused to give up. She decided to create a big, new monster called Typhon. This monster had the head of an ass, with ears that reached the stars and giant wings that could block the sun, and hundred of snakes instead of legs. He breathed fire and when he reached Olympus the gods were terrified and fled. Yes, they ran away to Egypt. Zeus went disguised as a ram, his wife Hera as a cow, Apollo became a crow and Ares a wild boar. But the most intelligent and wisest was the goddess Athena. She refused to leave and called her father Zeus a coward. This angered him. He returned and hurled one of his famous thunderbolts at Typhon who was burnt in the shoulder and screamed for help. Then Typhon, in a rage, seized Zeus, disarmed him and handed him to a big she-monster called Delphyne. The other gods decided to rescue Zeus. With the help of the Fates, they poisoned Typhon. Then Apollo killed Delphyne and rescued Zeus. But Typhon was not dead. He was in Catania, alive but weakened. Zeus took a giant rock and hurled it on top of Typhon and that became your fire-mountain. Typhon is still there and his fiery breath sometimes rushes up and frightens everyone. Isn’t that a bit better than saying it’s the will of Allah?’
The boys clapped their hands in excitement.
‘Jiddu, did the Greeks really believe they could overthrow their gods?’
‘Yes. And then the Romans came and took over the gods, but the Romans went one step further and their Sultans decided that they could become gods themselves. And they did.’
‘How?’
‘By informing their people that they were gods and having great statues built in their honour.’
‘But we have only Allah,’ said Khalid, ‘and that’s much better because he is all-powerful. Nobody can overthrow him.’
‘That is true, my child,’ replied their grandfather, ‘but I think the Greeks had more fun with their gods.’
‘But did they really exist?’ asked Khalid.
‘If people believe in them, they exist.’
‘But Jiddu…’
‘Now listen to me. Go and have your baths and dress properly. I’m taking you to the palace today. You will meet the Sultan.’
As he went down the stairs, a retainer whispered that his two daughters wished to speak with him before he left the house. Samar and Sakina had heard the news about the trip to the palace from their sons and they assumed their father intended to ease the transfer of lands to the boys. So the brazenfaced women greeted their father cheerfully, showering him with honeyed words and asking his permission to return to their homes in Siracusa. A cold anger gripped him and made him unable to reply. Samar expressed concern. ‘Are you well, Abi? We can speak after your return.’
‘Sit down.’
They did as he asked.
‘I have just broken bread with Khalid and Ali. They are intelligent and thoughtful boys and I would like them to stay a bit longer so I can get to know them better. I want to teach them something important. In this house we honour truth. That’s what I wish to teach them.’
The women smiled appreciatively and nodded in agreement.
‘For that reason,’ he continued, ‘I have decided to ignore the lies you have told me about your husbands. Each and every word you spoke was an untruth and you were prepared to testify falsely with your hands on al-Quran. I was aware that Allah had not blessed you with too much intelligence, but your stupidity is truly monumental. And behind this dishonourable attempt an even higher level of stupidity than yours appears to be at work. Was this foolishness your mother’s idea? Answer me.’
Sakina began to weep tears as false as her earlier smiles.
Her father rose to dismiss them. ‘I wish you to return to your homes and forget this whole business. Are you not aware that the boys love the men you wish to defame? If I hear another word from you I will make sure you are severely punished.’
Shaken by this display of anger, Samar and Sakina fell on their knees before him and kissed his feet. Samar spoke in a broken voice. ‘Forgive us, Abi. You are correct. It was our mother’s idea. We will not mention it to another person as long as we live.’
Then Sakina, desperate to restore herself to her father’s favour, declared, ‘We will never speak untruth again.’
Idrisi was unbending. ‘You might as well say you’ll never eat again.’
‘Abi, a letter arrived from Walid.’
The shock almost felled him. He sat down again. ‘If this is another falsehood…’
‘It is not, Abi,’ Samar spoke to back up her sister. ‘We saw the letter.’
‘When did it arrive?’
‘A year ago,’ replied Sakina. ‘It was delivered to us by a merchant who had met Walid.’
‘Why was I not informed?’
The women bowed their heads and did not answer.
‘Who was the letter addressed to? Do not fear. Tell me the truth.’
‘To us,’ replied Samar, ‘but in it there was a sealed parchment for you. Our mother told us we should conceal it till you agreed to our plan.’
‘I assume you have brought it with you?’
She nodded and rushed to her room, returning with a sealed roll of paper. Taking it from her, Idrisi asked them to leave him alone. He inspected the document closely to ascertain whether it might have been opened and re-sealed but, to his surprise, it had not been tampered with. As he stamped on the seal and watched it crumble, his eyes moistened. Walid was alive. The clumsy calligraphy was reassuring. There could be no doubt that Walid was the author of what lay on the table before him. On another piece of papyrus with the letter Idrisi saw the outlines of a map, but which coast could this be? For a moment the mapmaker took precedence over the father. He clapped his hands. It was the southern coast of India, but drawn with much greater skill than his own.
‘Allah be praised,’ he said to himself. ‘The boy is more gifted than his father.’
Then he devoured the letter.
Most respected father, I hope this finds you in good health. I honour you and I love you. This is the third letter I am sending you. The first two were despatched through merchants who were on their way to Palermo. I asked them to deliver the letters to the palace, since I assumed they would reach you there. I have a feeling that they never reached you, because I know if they had you would have found a way of responding and I used to dream that your ship would enter this city of water and find me.