Burhan al-Din was the first to arrive, followed soon after by the others. The judges discussed Azdar’s defiance of their wishes and his threat to kill anyone who asked Timur for a document of safe conduct. They also discussed the fact that the chief Shafi‘i judge, Sadr al-Din al-Munawi, had been captured by the Mongols in Shaqhab. Once again they asked ‘Abd al-Rahman to wait for a day or two till things had become a bit clearer. He refused and insisted on being the first to be lowered down the walls. Burhan al-Din granted his wish with the aid of ropes and strips of cotton cloth. No sooner had he landed by Bab al-Jabiya than he was surrounded by soldiers and taken to Timur’s Damascus superviser, Shah Malik. The man gave him a warm welcome, then dispatched him with his retinue to the khan’s own billet. While ‘Abd al-Rahman was waiting with considerable misgivings, he spotted a soldier dragging a half-naked man weighed down by chains. He had no doubt in his mind that this was the captured Shafi‘i judge. A moment later he heard his name being called, along with his designation as Maliki judge from the Maghrib. He recited to himself two suras, al-‘Asr (‘The Epoch’) and al-Sharh (‘The Expanding’), adjusted his burnous on his shoulders, and entered the tent where Timur was sitting. As he set eyes on the man, he told himself that here was the incredible man in person, just as he had envisaged him! Slanting eyes, thick greasy hair, devilish beard, jutting forehead over a snub nose. His features and general appearance added to his general aura of cruelty and violence.
Timur, seated on his bed cushions, looked just like a lion in its den. His eyes took everything in, and he completely dominated the scene — including the plates of food that were laid out in front of him to choose from — before he turned his attention to all the Mongol groups hovering by the entrance like ravenous ghouls. ‘Abd al-Rahman approached the bed and greeted Timur with head lowered. He was obliged to run his chin over the hand that was proffered to him. He then took his seat in the place indicated to him, and the translator was summoned. The man was introduced as the jurist, ‘Abd al-Jabbar ibn al-Nu‘man from Khwarizm, the Hanafi scholar whose name has already been mentioned above.
Timur’s questions involved a systematic inquiry into every aspect of Ibn Khaldun’s life: where from, when, why, and how. The answers were brief, and his descriptions of Sultan Barquq’s beneficence toward him were especially prominent. ‘Abd al-Rahman did however characterize the sultan’s slaying of the Great Khan Timur’s ambassadors as being one of his most flagrant errors. When the questions turned to the internal history of the Maghrib, its situation, cities, and peoples, ‘Abd al-Rahman noticed that Timur’s eyes began to sparkle with increased interest. Dramatizing his answers with gestures, the historian stressed the ruggedness of the terrain and the fortitude of its citizens. Even so, he was unable to divert Timur’s attention from the subject. In fact, he listened as the translator proceeded to tell him what Timur was saying: “My lord is fascinated by a country that sits so nicely between two oceans and two continents. He wants you to write about it for him so it’s as though he can see it with his own eyes, cross its borders, and envelop its plains and mountains beneath his feet.” “To hear is to obey,” was ‘Abd al-Rahman’s reluctant reply, to which Timur reacted with “Khub, khub,” and then invited his guest to eat the food in front of him. He ordered rashta, a favorite Mongol dish, to be brought in, and bowls of it were put in front of ‘Abd al-Rahman. Standing up, he took several pieces, his hope being both to show his admiration for Tatar cooking and to suppress the fear that he might be facing the same fate as the Shafi‘i judge whom he had seen being tortured. He had recalled that some peoples of the North give people condemned to death a meal before they are executed. He only relaxed a bit when Timur gestured to him to sit down and gave him some inscrutable glances. ‘Abd al-Rahman decided that the best way to change the atmosphere was by launching into some totally contrived panegyric statement. Here is what he said, speaking very deliberately so that the translator could follow and convey the meaning accurately:
May God support you! Here thirty or forty years have passed during which I have aspired to meet you. For you are the sultan of the world, the monarch of this earth. I do not believe that, since the time of Adam himself, a ruler such as you has appeared. You are not one to talk of matters at random. I myself am a scholar and I will explain what I mean: Strong rule depends on the solidarity of the community; the extent of authority depends on the existence of such a sentiment in abundance. Scholars past and present are in total accord that the greatest peoples in the world belong to two groups: Arabs and Turks. You are well acquainted with the Arabs and their rulership, how they came together under the banner of Islam with their Prophet. The Turks achieved the same through their rivalries with the kings of Persia. The way their king Afrasiyab snatched Khurasan from their hands is an indication of their quota of monarchical qualities. No one can match their group solidarity; no ruler on earth rivals them — neither Chosroes nor Caesar, neither Alexander nor Nebukhadnezzar. Consider Chosroes, monarch of the Persians; but where do they stand in comparison with the Turks? Or take Caesar and Alexander, rulers of the Roman empire, where are they compared with the Turks? Nebukhadnezzar ruled Babylon and Nabatea, but where is he compared with the Turks? All this stands as proof of what I have just stated about this great ruler.
At first Timur ground his teeth and frowned, but then he let out an abrupt laugh, which ‘Abd al-Rahman took as a good sign. Timur only resumed his former demeanor when his chamberlain informed him that the judges of Damascus were awaiting his pleasure in the tent outsider He ordered them to be brought in, then walked over toward them, dragging his clubfoot behind him. ‘Abd al-Rahman followed behind along with the translator and mingled with his colleagues, focusing his attention on getting Timur to greet Burhan al-Din and Shaykh Mahmud ibn al-’Izz and talk to them both through the medium of Ibn al-Nu‘man who was explaining things to everyone present. The gist of what Timur said was that he always appreciated the intelligence of religious scholars and looked forward to discussing matters sacred and secular with them. But such things were always better after a meal.
Timur went out of the tent and was followed by some senior officials. He took them to a tent where a feast had been laid out, mostly consisting of boiled lamb. Everyone ate as much as he wished. Some people communicated in whispers, while others used gestures. Timur sat there on his chair, eyeing everyone and urging those who were eating little to take more. From time to time someone outside the tent kept reciting:
Eat the feast of one who, if alive, would relay it to his family;
And, if dead, would meet God Almighty with full stomach.
When Timur made to stand up with the aid of his servants, ‘Abd al-Rahman snatched the opportunity to go over to Burhan al-Din and ask him about the keys to the city of Damascus: had they, he asked, been handed over to Timur? He also asked about the disappearance of Shadid al-Din, the shaykh of the poor. He informed ‘Abd al-Rahman that the shaykh was actually present, but had blended into the crowd like a tiny hair inside a cooking pot. Timur would not be demanding the keys at this point, but intended to wait till he could take the judges to the city gates where everyone could witness the official surrender.