Farrukh Shah was not the most intelligent of rulers, but his generosity and courage were well known. Imad al-Din’s complaints regarding his extravagance were not exaggerated, but they underplayed the fact that little of the money was spent on himself. He rewarded loyalty, and in this he was not unlike his uncle, except that Salah al-Din’s austere tastes and habits were so well known that even the poorest of the poor never believed that he spent much on himself. Some rulers are motivated by artistic pursuits, others are addicted to hedonism, others still to the pursuit of riches as an end in themselves. The Sultan was only concerned with the well-being of others.
It was a moonlit sky as we crossed the ramparts to the audience chamber. We had been excluded from it ever since the departure of Salah al-Din. The emirs were already gathered as we entered. I bowed to Farrukh Shah, who looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept for many days. Shadhi glared at the Sultan’s nephew, who ignored the old man completely, but he came and welcomed me with a display of real warmth.
“I’m glad you could come, Ibn Yakub. A letter has just arrived from my uncle, and we are instructed that you and old man Shadhi are to be invited when it is read to the council.”
I bowed again to thank him. Shadhi sniffed loudly and swallowed his phlegm. One of the younger court scribes, a pretty, fair-skinned boy with golden hair and curled eyelashes, probably no more than eighteen years of age, had been selected to read the letter.
“Look at this shameless hussy,” whispered Shadhi, looking at the scribe. “He’s probably just walked here from Farrukh Shah’s bed, and he’s still busy making eyes at him.”
I frowned at my old friend, hoping to control his bitterness, but he grinned at me defiantly.
The boy spoke in a cracked voice.
“Castrated,” muttered Shadhi.
“Silence!” shouted Farrukh Shah. “Silence when a letter from our Sultan Salah al-Din ibn Ayyub is being read to the court.”
The scribe began to speak, at first with a certain nervousness, but then, as Imad al-Din’s prose gathered its own momentum, with much greater confidence.
“This letter is addressed to my dear nephew Farrukh Shah and all our loyal emirs of Damascus. We are outside Aleppo and desirous, as ever, of avoiding the unpleasant sight of Believer killing Believer, I have offered the emirs an honourable truce, provided we occupy the citadel. I am not sure that they possess the intelligence to appreciate our generosity.
“One of them rode out to meet us yesterday. He was full of flowery words and grand flourishes, hoping to flatter me into withdrawal, offering me untold treasures and swearing eternal loyalty to us on the Koran. ‘We are your friends, O great Sultan, and we will be at your side on that day which is about to come, the day when you take al-Kuds and drive the Franj out of our lands.’
“These fine words made no impact on me, since only three days previously our spies had reported that the nobles of Aleppo had sent urgent messages to the Franj and the hashishin in the mountains, offering them money if they could keep me out of the city.
“I replied to him as follows: ‘You claim to be my friend. For me friendship is a sacred trust, Acred, but tell me something: who are your enemies? Name your real enemies and I will name your friends. For me friendship means, above all, common animosities. Do you agree?’
“The fool nodded. At this point I showed him a copy of the letter his master had sent to the Franj. He began to sweat and tremble, but I contained my anger. Shadhi, bless his heart, would have advised sending this rogue’s severed head back to Aleppo, and I was greatly tempted, but I rose above my anger. Anger is never a good emotion when one is determining a higher strategy. We sent the Emir back to Aleppo with a severe warning that, if they persisted in their defiance, then I would have no alternative but to take their city by storm. I warned them not to imagine that, in these circumstances, all their citizens would rush to defend them.
“We wanted to send you a dispatch after the armies of Mosul, backed by their allies, decided to meet us on the plain of Harzim, just below Mardin, but we waited for them in vain. They may have advanced like men, but they vanished like women. We were tempted to chase them, but instead I decided to isolate them completely from the neighbouring towns.
“Two days ago we took the city of al-Amadiyah, without too much resistance, though too much time was taken by our soldiers in piercing the massive black basalt walls. This was a pleasurable victory because of the surprising treasures contained in the city. We have, as a result of this victory, succeeded in capturing many weapons, enough to create two new armies. Both al-Fadil, who was here for the siege, and Imad al-Din, were interested only in the library, which contained a million volumes. These were loaded on seventy camels and are, even as I write, making their way to Damascus. Ibn Yakub should be placed in charge of ensuring that they are placed safely in our library till Imad al-Din returns. They include three copies of the Koran which date to the time of the Caliph Omar.
“The Franj will not be able to resist their offer, and that is the main reason for this letter. The aim of the Franj will be to prevent me from assembling a large army. I think they will attempt a diversion in both Damascus and Cairo. If my instincts are justified then you need to forestall such a move by taking the offensive.
“You have done well, Farrukh Shah. I have detailed reports of your recent victories, but we need Aleppo and Mosul under our control if the Franj are to be dislodged from our world and returned over the sea to their own.
“Tomorrow we march back to Aleppo. The mountain air has done us all much good and has dispelled our tiredness. The soldiers know that the sun in the plains will be like the fires of Hell, but our Heaven will be Aleppo. It will take us fifteen days to reach it and, Allah willing, we shall take the city this time. Only then will I return to Dimask to make our final preparations for the jihad. Be on your guard against surprise attacks by the Franj.”
The chamberlain indicated that the meeting was over, and as Shadhi and I rose to leave the chamber, we bowed in the direction of Farrukh Shah. But there was something wrong, and suddenly his attendants, too, realised that he had fainted. The room was cleared, and the physicians summoned. It is to the credit of all the emirs present that there was no sense of fear or panic, of the kind which usually accompanies the illness of a ruler. Perhaps this was due to the fact that Farrukh Shah was not a Sultan, but acting on his behalf.
Shadhi was dismissive, refusing to take the illness seriously.
“He probably had too much to drink or extended himself too far when fondling that foolish boy who read Salah al-Din’s letter. Go to bed, Ibn Yakub.”
I did go to bed, but I was too worried to sleep, so I got up again, put on my robe and walked outside. The moon had set and the stars had changed places. I walked slowly in the direction of Farrukh Shah’s bedchamber, only to be greeted by his favourite attendant who was weeping like a child, loudly and uncontrollably. I feared the worst, but he was still alive, though still in a swoon.
The next morning, Farrukh Shah’s condition weakened. He never recovered. Even as the Sultan was marching towards Aleppo, loud screams and wailing rent the citadel in Damascus, announcing to all of us that his nephew had breathed his last.