“The Ikhshidid dynasty was overturned by the Fatimids without resort to war,” Ibn Qulaqis obliged Osiris. “They founded Cairo and al-Azhar, and improved the administration — bringing prosperity along with their reign. When al-Muizz li-Din Illah arrived, he received the nation’s elite, among them Ahmad ibn Tabataba, the scientist and man of letters. He asked the new caliph, ‘From whom did his lordship descend?’
“Al-Muizz then drew his sword half-way from its scabbard. ‘This is my lineage,’ the caliph replied, distributing gold to those assembled. ‘And this is my nobility,’ he told them. To this they answered, ‘We have all heard and will obey.’ ”
“Why didn’t you make your country independent after the Ikhshidids disappeared?” asked Abnum.
“And why didn’t we split away when there was more than one Muslim caliph?” Ibn al-Qulaqis asked in return. “Independence means nothing to the Muslim — all he wants is a strong Muslim ruler who is also just. This we found under the Fatimids.”
“When they swore their allegiance through gold and the sword?”
“Can there be a state without those two things?” Ibn Qulaqis again asked. “The Fatimid age was crammed with knowledge, art, and construction, while the Christians enjoyed both trust and security. But the rule of al-Hakim bi-Amr Illah was unforgettable for its clashing contradictions. Once he would favor the Muslims and persecute the Copts, another time he would coddle the Copts while bashing the Muslims, and then he would just be horrible to them all. But their era ended in a deadly famine — their awe and glory were wiped away, as the people were struck with stunning calamities.”
“Proceed to your trial with peace,” Osiris said to Ibn Qulaqis.
52
HORUS HERALDED, “The vizier Qaraqush!”
A squat man walked in and stood before the throne.
Osiris invited him to speak.
“With the decline of the Fatimids,” Qaraqush replied, “Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi came to Egypt to create a new state and the Ayyubid dynasty. Working as his vizier, I witnessed his reforms inside the country — in bettering the administration, reducing the poll taxes, and enforcing justice. Likewise I saw his accomplishments abroad — in uniting the Arabs and waging war successfully against the foreign Christians. His uprightness among the knights made him a model of bravery, chivalry, honor, and greatness, while in all my own labors I strove to improve government and make it more fair. Yet I was called a despot, without the least basis in fact, for forcing the removal of many dwellings while building the wall around the city of Cairo. No just person has ever known such injustice as I have.”
After seeking permission to speak, Thoth asked him, “Did you not strip stones from some of the pyramids to build your great wall, without respect for what the ancients had done?”
“I removed some worthless pagan ruins,” Qaraqush retorted, “in order to build for the sake of God and His prophet.”
“The grandchildren have forgotten their grandparents’ religion,” lamented Khufu. “They’re concerned with the present, not with the past.”
“I consider them as believing in my God,” Akhenaten answered Khufu.
“Salah al-Din’s successors were not his equals,” Qaraqush continued. “Christians from the north came to seize their glory. Damietta fell to them; they killed the men of Rosetta and desecrated the women. But in the end, they were defeated and left the country.”
“The Ayyubid dynasty departed too,” added Isis, “the good and the bad along with it.”
“Take our thanks to your final trial,” Osiris said to the vizier Qaraqush.
53
HORUS HAILED, “al-Shihab al-Khafagi!”
A squat, excessively fat man came in, padding ponderously until he stood before the throne.
Osiris asked him to tell his story.
“I was born in Syracuse,” said al-Shihab al-Khafagi, “and grew into a man of language and letters. Among my most famous stanzas:
For how long will his avoidance make war on me?
My patience has only increased his soldiery.
My ecstasy makes mock of me
Just as his promises toy with my fantasies.
“I lived during the age of the Mamluks,” he continued, “whom the Ayyubids acquired because of their beauty. They gave them a brilliant upbringing to be their own servants, passing on their property to them. Some of them became mighty sultans as well as excellent Muslims, prizing justice and order combined. But the majority was profligate and greedy, and the people suffered agony, poverty, and ignominy at their hands.”
“I never realized that mamluks — slaves — had an age named after them,” said Thutmose III.
“You recited some love verses for us,” said the Sage Ptahhotep. “Didn’t the torments of the people move your passion for poetry, as well?”
“In a letter, I wrote,” replied al-Shihab al-Khafagi,
The good and virtuous have all gone — none remains but those who take pride in rottenness and corruption, in the spirit of pessimism, and the fruit of rebuke — the successor to the owl, the sign of bad fortune. Forbearance and silence are prolonged. How Heaven wept for the earth when she lost a dear one, and the clouds sobbed along with her.
“For hundreds of years the people lived through torments and rapacity, and if not for Islam, they would all have perished and disappeared.”
“What did you say about the Mamluks?” wondered Abnum.
“I tried not to stretch my neck under their swords,” answered al-Shihab al-Khafagi.
“What was the role of Islam, which you have talked about?” asked the Sage Ptahhotep.
“It was the brave ones among the men of religion,” said al-Shihab al-Khafagi, “who at times stood up to the tyrants in defense of the wretched, and their efforts were crowned with success. The downtrodden found in their faith both hope and consolation.”
Osiris looked at the Immortals in their seats.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he addressed them, “I feel your sadness and your rage as well. Therefore I want you to know that our proceeding shall call out through the void to appeal to the two courts — Christian and Muslim — to bring the harshest possible penalties down upon all the iniquitous rulers who have usurped the throne of the pharaohs.”
Then he fixed his gaze on al-Shihab al-Khafagi.
“Go in peace to your final trial,” he told him, “with neither commendation nor censure from ours.”
54
THOTH, SCRIBE OF THE GODS, read aloud, “When the Mamluk state vanished, Egypt fell as booty into the hands of the Ottomans. Hundreds of pashas came and went as governors over the country, the Ottoman army and the remnants of the Mamluks sharing control with them. Under them, Egypt knew ease and comfort but rarely, and for fleeting periods only. A deadly struggle broke out within the ruling regime, and assassination and treachery became the norm. The people drowned in worry, ignorance, and humiliation, a condition that lasted some hundreds of years.”
Horus then called out, “Ali Bey al-Kabir!”
A muscular man of imposing height came in, walking in his winding sheet until he stood before the throne.
“You are the first foreign ruler that we have summoned to our trial due to the clearly Egyptian tendency in your policies — a kind not seen before. Hence I invite you to address the court.”
“I started as one of the mamluks belonging to Ibrahim Kakhiya,” said Ali Bey al-Kabir. “He prized me for my courage — so I became one of the few who were given the title of ‘bey.’ Next I became ‘sheikh al-balad,’ or head of the provincial government. At this point I thought of making Egypt independent of Ottoman rule, and I did just that. Immediately the hardships upon the people lessened. I was a just ruler, reigning righteously in accordance with Islam, and the Egyptians were blessed with peace and security — Muslims, Christians, and Jews as well. My domain stretched over the whole of the Arabian Peninsula, the Levant, and Nubia. If not for the treachery of Muhammad Abu al-Dhahab, one of my closest mamluks, Egypt’s fate would have been different. Yet I died nobly, just as I had lived.”