Terken Khatun was in the royal camp, an hour away from the scene of the drama. The Sultan was carried in to her inanimate but still alive. She hurriedly sent away all onlookers, keeping by her only Jahan and two or three other trusted courtiers as well as the court doctor who was holding Malikshah’s hand.
‘Might the master recover?’ the Chinese woman inquired.
‘His pulse is weakening. God has blown on the candle and it is flickering before going out. Our only hope is prayer.’
‘If such is the will of the Almighty, then listen to what I am going to say.’
This was not the tone of a widow-to-be, but of the mistress of an empire.
‘No one outside this yurt must know that the Sultan is no longer with us. Merely say that he is recovering slowly, that he needs to rest and that no one may see him.’
What a fleeting and bloody epic was that of Terken Khatun. Even before Malikshah’s heart had ceased beating, she demanded her handful of faithful courtiers to swear loyalty to Sultan Mahmoud, whose age was four years and a few months. Then she sent a messenger to the Caliph to announce the death of her spouse and to ask him to confirm her son’s succession; in exchange the Prince of Believers would no longer have cause for concern in his capital and his name would be glorified in the sermons of mosques throughout the empire.
When the Sultan’s court set off again for Isfahan, Malikshah had been dead for some days but the Chinese woman continued to keep the news from the troops. The cadaver was laid out on a large chariot pulled by six horses and covered by a tent. However, the charade could not last indefinitely for a corpse which has not been embalmed can not linger amongst the living without its decomposition betraying its presence. Terken chose to be rid of it and thus Malikshah, ‘the revered Sultan, the great Shahinshah, the King of the Orient and the Occident, the Pillar of Islam and of the Muslims, the Pride of the World and of the Religion, the Father of Conquests, the Steadfast Support of the Caliph of God’, was hastily interred by night at the side of the road in a place which no one has ever been able to find. ‘Never,’ said the chroniclers, ‘has there been told of such a powerful sovereign dying without anyone to pray or weep over his corpse.’
News of the Sultan’s disappearance finally got out, but Terken had no trouble justifying her actions: her first concern had been to hide the news from the enemy since the army and the court were far from the capital. In fact the Chinese woman had won the time she needed to place her son on the throne and to take up the reins of power herself.
The chronicles of the time make no mistake. When speaking of the imperial troops, they henceforth say ‘the armies of Terken Khatun’. When speaking of Isfahan, they point out that it is Terken’s capital city. As for the name of the child-Sultan, it would be as good as forgotten, and he would only be remembered as the ‘son of the Chinese woman’.
The officers of the Nizamiya were nevertheless opposed to the Sultana. Terken Khatun was second on their list of outlaws, just after Malikshah, to whose eldest son, Barkiyaruk aged eleven, they gave their support. They surrounded him, advised him and led him off to battle. The first skirmishes left them with the advantage and the Sultana had to fall back on Isfahan which was soon under siege. Terken, however, was not a woman to admit defeat and to defend herself she was willing to use tricks which would long be famous.
For example, to several provincial governors she wrote letters worded as follows: ‘I am a widow with the care of a minor who needs a father to guide his steps and to steer the empire in his name. Who better than you could fill this role? Come as quickly as possible at the head of your troops, lift the siege and you will enter Isfahan triumphant, I shall marry you and you will wield complete power.’ The argument carried weight and emirs rushed from Azerbaijan as from Syria, and even though they did not manage to break the siege on the capital they did provide long months of respite for the Sultana.
Terken also re-established contact with Hassan Sabbah. ‘Did I not promise you Nizam al-Mulk’s head? I offered it to you. Today I am offering you Isfahan, the capital of the empire. I know that you have many men in this city. Why do they live in the shadows? Tell them to show themselves and they will obtain gold and arms and will be able to preach in the open.’ In fact, after so many years of persecution, hundreds of Ismailis revealed themselves. The number of conversions increased and in certain quarters they formed armed militias on behalf of the Sultana.
However, Terken’s last ruse was probably the most ingenious and the most audacious: emirs from her entourage presented themselves one day at the enemy camp, announcing to Barkiyaruk that they had decided to abandon the Sultana, that their troops were on the verge of revolt and that, if he would agree to accompany them and infiltrate the city with them, they could give the signal for an uprising: Terken and her son would be massacred, and Barkiyaruk would be able to establish himself firmly on the throne. The year was 1094, the pretender was thirteen years old and the proposition took him in — to win control of the city in person when his emirs had been besieging it for over a year! He jumped at the chance. The following night, he slipped out of his camp unbeknown to his men, presented himself with Terken’s emissaries at the gate of Kahab, which opened for him as if by magic. He walked in decisively, surrounded by an escort which was a little too jolly for his taste, but whose mood he ascribed to the unmitigated success of his exploit. If the men laughed too loud, he ordered them to calm down and they responded respectfully before bursting out laughing even more.
Alas — when he started to suspect their cheerfulness, it was too late. They pinned him down, bound his hands and feet, gagged and blindfolded him and led him amid much scoffing to the gate of the harem. The chief eunuch, woken from his sleep, ran off to warn Terken of their arrival. It was up to her to decide the fate of her own son’s rival — whether she should have him strangled or just blinded. The eunuch had disappeared in the long dark corridor when suddenly shouts, cries and sobs broke out. Intrigued and worried, the officers, who could not hold back from penetrating the forbidden zone, came upon a talkative old servant: Terken Khatun had just been discovered dead in her bed with the instrument of the crime at her side — a large soft cushion with which she had been smothered. A eunuch with sturdy arms had disappeared and a servant-girl remembered that he had been introduced into the harem some years earlier upon Nizam al-Mulk’s recommendation.
CHAPTER 21
What a strange dilemma for Terken’s followers: their Sultana was dead, but their principal adversary was at their mercy; their capital was surrounded but the very person laying the siege was now their prisoner. What should they do with him? Jahan had taken over Terken’s place as guardian of the child-Sultan, and it was to her that the discussion was brought so that she might settle it. Until then she had shown herself to be extremely resourceful, but her mistress’s death had shaken the ground under her feet. To whom could she turn, whom could she consult if not Omar!
Omar arrived to find her seated on Terken’s divan at the foot of the drawn curtain with her head lowered and her tresses spread carelessly over her shoulders. The Sultan was next to her, dressed all in silk with a turban on his little head. He was sitting on his cushion; his face was red and spotty, and his eyes half-closed. He looked bored.