‘I know that wine is not allowed to the Faithful,’ I said pleasantly. ‘Does that include beer?’
Karim stared at the jug held under his nose. He sighed and took the offered bait. ‘I think it does,’ he said in a tone of firm piety. ‘The prohibition should be taken to mean anything that disturbs the mind. This being so, wine should be taken as a specific instance of the general class.’
Good lad! I thought. One day, he might have enough Greek to appreciate Aristotle in the original. Or perhaps the old windbag might find himself decked out in Saracen clothing. A shame it wouldn’t be Epicurus instead. Or perhaps not.
‘That being so,’ I asked again, ‘where does it leave kava and hashish and opium? These also disturb the mind, but I’ve never known them to be regarded as unlawful among the Faithful. And what of the verses I heard interpolated in this evening’s recitation:
Joyless in this world is he that lives sober, And he that dies not drunk will miss the path of wisdom?
At last, Karim laughed. The tension relaxed and he sat properly up. He took the jug and sniffed its contents. Luckily for his morals, it was one of those beers that tastes better than it smells. He handed it back and watched me drink deep.
‘You don’t know what you’re missing, my dear boy,’ I said. ‘Plural marriage may have its moments, but doesn’t beat a good piss-up.’ We passed to reminiscences of his father, who might well have pulled things round for Ali in the civil wars, if only Muawiya’s assassins hadn’t got to him when they did. Looking carefully into the young man’s face, I mentioned how, with Ali left in charge, the realms of the Caliph might today be no smaller, but have a very different shape.
But now there was the heavy tread of military boots on old Greek pavements. It was time for the Old One al-Arik to show once more his legendary management of perception.
Chapter 44
I woke in my own bed with a splitting headache. Worse, Meekal was glaring down at me. He grunted and scowled as I opened my eyes and looked at him. I pointed feebly at the jug on the table. He poured a cup of lemon water and carefully raised me up so I could drink.
‘So you survived even that!’ he said in Greek, sitting back down. He waved the doctor forward.
I shut my eyes again and thought of nothing in particular as the man passed his chilly hands over me, checking pulse, poking and prodding, muttering away to himself over what he was finding. I opened my eyes when he was done and tried to sit up.
‘No, my beloved grandfather,’ Meekal said, ‘you just stay where you are for the moment.’ He turned to the doctor, who nodded and then shrugged. He was a typical doctor. I might be at death’s door. I might be ready to train for a torch race. His manner was all the same.
‘So I really am still alive?’ I croaked. From the shadows the sun was casting in the room, we were already late into the afternoon. I closed my eyes once again and tried to stretch my weary, overstrained limbs. I thought of my reception back into the palace: the hugs and tears from a scared Edward, the loud prayers from Meekal, still reeking of smoke, but now got up in armour and covered in blood, the silent and terrified Karim. I must already have been out cold when I was carried back here. Certainly, I had no recollection of anything once the palace gates had thudded shut and I’d been thrust into a carrying chair. I’d slept the morning through. With a sudden thought, I forced myself into a half-sitting position. The doctor got some pillows behind me, and I was able to lean back.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ I asked. Meekal got up and paced over to the window. He stood with his back to me. ‘What day is this?’
‘If I set a task for that fool Karim beyond his abilities,’ he said without turning, ‘I am willing to blame myself. But I expected better of you than to get caught up in an Imperial terror attack – especially when this attack party had been sent specifically to murder you. That you survived last night is less down to anything you did than to the fact that God is on our side.’ He stopped and continued looking out of the window. Was that a prayer he was muttering under his breath? I couldn’t tell. If it was, though, this wasn’t the Michael I used to know. I suddenly realised that, but for him, the whole suite seemed absolutely quiet. ‘It’s Thursday,’ he said, now redundantly. ‘You’ve lost only one morning of your remaining time before you must stand before God.’
‘Where is everyone?’ I asked.
Meekal turned to face me. His beard had been waxed and pressed into something that resembled a pair of sharpened ox horns. He came back over and sat down again. He pulled his chair closer and stared at me with his freezing, dark eyes.
‘Get out,’ he said to the doctor, still in Greek. ‘But I correct myself,’ he added, sliding at once into the ceremonious politeness of the powerful, ‘let me show you out.’ He got up and pushed the man from the room.
Once alone, I lifted my arms and held them out before me. I bent my knees up and tried to touch them with my chin. With a bit of strain in my upper back, I just about managed. Still tired, and now conscious of aching all over, I settled back, reasonably content. If I really had fatally overstrained myself the night before, it didn’t show up on my own examination. I’d see what I could find on Meekal’s face when he eventually returned from his conversation with the doctor.
I sat watching the movement of a shadow cast by a chair. It moved steadily towards the edge of one of the larger floor tiles. The whole suite was creepily silent. The shadow had just crossed over to the next tile when Meekal came back in. He dumped the golden key to the whole suite on the table beside me and sat down.
‘I kicked all your shouting, messy workmen out when they downed tools for lunch,’ he said quietly in Latin. ‘How they didn’t wake you this morning is a small miracle. I cleared everyone else out with them. I understand that my pretty new uncle went off earlier in the day with Karim to watch the public executions. Had I known of this in time, I would most certainly have prevented your boy from leaving the safety of the palace. Because of his family connections, I am sadly unable to discipline Karim. But I will speak with him about this. In the meantime, your boy is safe enough. And letting him see the public executions may serve a useful purpose. We didn’t take many prisoners last night. But I think the boy will be impressed by the show we can put on here in Damascus.’
‘And now we’re alone,’ I said, trying to smile. I looked about for my teeth. But my gums were sore, and I didn’t need to stand on ceremony with Meekal. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any wine left in my office?’
‘It was my intention to let you settle into your rooms here in the palace,’ he went on, ignoring my question. ‘I was to take you on a tour of the city tomorrow, so you could see the Faithful at prayer. The day after that, we’d get down to business. However, in view of last night’s attack – coming so soon after the earlier attempt on your life, I think it appropriate to come straight to the point.’ He paused and looked at the golden key. He got noiselessly up and crossed the room to the door. He pulled it suddenly open and looked up and down the corridor outside. He closed the door and went over to the window. He shut the glazed frame, and then pulled down the silken blind. Light now came from the glazed window overhead, but this was of double glass and was already fastened. He sat down again.
‘You do know why I had you brought here, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘You know why we had you lifted from under the very noses of the Intelligence Bureau. You know why we brought you all the way back here, right through Imperial waters. I’m sure you appreciate the diplomatic triumph required to get the northern barbarians to do as we wanted. And I’m sure you appreciate how much it cost us to get that ship designed and built. So, must I spell out why you are now here, and received with such lavish honour? Why is it that we have even decided to overlook your apostasy from the conversion you made in front of the Caliph Omar himself? As you ought to know well, the punishment for apostasy is death.’