Once Edward was done with all he had to relate of any importance, I turned my attention to the letter. It was a summons to a banquet arranged for five evenings away. Meekal had added a note in his own hand that I was to attend both sober and undrugged – but that I’d not be expected this time to play any active part. My job was to smile and bow. He’d then pat me on the head and send me off with an early goodnight kiss.
Sadly, the message didn’t end there. I was being allowed an early night, it explained, because I’d be expected the following morning to go out with Meekal and give my final touches to the project. The day following that, the Caliph would be turning up there some while before noon. He’d watch a full demonstration of the Greek fire, and then ride back to Damascus for Friday prayers. ‘ For all our sakes,’ the message ended in an underlined scrawl, ‘ let nothing go wrong! ’
‘That gives me six sodding days,’ I grumbled. I thought of my seething vats. ‘Telling me to work those round the Caliph’s schedule makes as much sense as telling me to arrange the phases of the moon. The stuff will be ready or not. If not, the Caliph will have to be content with a jet of steam. Doubtless, Meekal can enliven proceedings by sticking a few convicts in front of the jet. Whatever the case, there can be no demonstration of fire until the mix is stable.’
I might have been speaking a new foreign language for all the comprehension I saw on Edward’s face. I grunted and tossed the letter at him. He screwed up his eyes to concentrate on the Saracen script. He could just follow the main invite. That was in a good secretarial hand that avoided contractions. Meekal’s scrawl, however, was still beyond him. I took it back and read, making sure to comment on the unusual sequence of tenses, and how the placing of an adjective in one sentence plainly governed the meaning of the next.
‘I don’t suppose the Angels of the Lord will be putting in an appearance at the banquet or any other proceedings,’ I said. ‘If no one else is, the Commander of the Faithful should be safe from their attentions.’ I laughed and put a whole egg into my mouth. Edward reached forward with a napkin just in time to stop the soft yolk from bursting in his direction. I did my best to suppress the choking fit with another gulp of water, and did still more to look grand again. ‘Unless you’ve had your own invitation,’ I wheezed, ‘I propose to bring you along as my page. Even if you are one of the Faithful by then, I doubt anyone will think ill of that.’
Edward bowed and went back to his description of the ceremonies he’d gone out with Karim to witness. They’d been told the Caliph was already in the palace; he’d apparently made a quiet entry just before dawn, and would put in his first official appearance in Damascus at Friday prayers in the big mosque. Would I be there? he asked with a change of subject. Though separated from the women, I could sit behind the grille and watch as Edward made his profession of faith.
‘What name will you take?’ I asked. ‘I can’t think of an easy equivalent for Edward.’
‘I shall be known henceforth as Moslemah,’ came the proud reply. I grunted again. It was a bold choice – not that it would make any difference with me. Since I still hadn’t bothered to ask for his real name, I’d not be using this one. For our remaining time together – however long that might be – I’d call the boy Edward.
‘You don’t have to answer this,’ I said, now in English. ‘But do you believe a word of all that stuff about Mohammed as the Prophet of God?’
‘And what future would there be for me as a Christian?’ came the reply. It was a good answer.
I shrugged. Eighty years earlier in Canterbury, I’d made a similar decision for myself. In my case, it had been a sprinkle of water, followed by appointment as Father Maximin’s English secretary. If you want to get anywhere in life, you need to identify what religious views are the long-term fashion and accommodate yourself to them. If they turn out to be utterly malign, or just absurd, that’s the luck of the dice.
‘Whatever people tell you,’ I said after a slight pause, ‘the operation hurts, and can put you out of action for a month.’ Edward wrinkled his nose and sat back in his chair, a resigned look on his face. ‘Still, it has to be done. So, take my advice – get it done by a Jewish doctor. The Saracens are more enthusiastic than skilled. And, while we’re on the subject, you might as well get it all out of the way. Double cuts don’t always mean double pain. Would you think it improper if I made you a gift of my own piercing bar? It served me well for longer than most people live. In an emergency, it has other uses too.’
The boy smiled. ‘How serious was your own conversion?’ he asked.
I took advantage of my own resulting silence to massage my gums with some of the bread. I tried to work out which of the untrue accounts might be most suitable. Of a sudden, I decided to tell the truth. He’d had that much on the Tipasa beach, I recalled. He might as well have it all now.
‘It was entirely for the money,’ I said in the safety of English. ‘When the Saracens took Antioch, every bank in the city failed. This left my overall affairs embarrassed. I was tied up with a mass of temporarily worthless land in Constantinople, and was badly in need of ready cash. Luckily, I was on hand not far from Antioch. I was able to hurry over and strike a deal with Omar, who had come out of the desert to see the wonders of his conquests in Syria. I got full compensation – in gold, mind you. In return, I became the first known Western convert.
‘You can be sure I sent Omar my letter of apostasy the moment he was looking the other way. Back in Constantinople, Heraclius had no choice but to believe my story. No one else did, though. The best I could do about the penance was to have the Great Church closed for an afternoon to the unwashed of the city. Still, I had to crawl on my belly – and under the gloating eyes of the entire Imperial Council – across the nave, to where the Patriarch waited with a birching rod.’ I shuddered at the recollection. ‘Omar took the apostasy rather well. I think the Religious Council advised him that my conversion was void on the grounds that I manifestly lacked conviction. I even left much of the gold on deposit in Antioch – a useful move as it turned out. I must say, I thought everyone had long since forgotten the whole business. It was never brought up in any of my subsequent dealings with the Saracens. I’m surprised – and annoyed – it’s now become common knowledge.’
Edward gave me an uncertain look, then changed the subject. That’s the problem with truth much of the time. Lies are often so much more credible.
‘I think you need to get the circumcision done within one Saracen month,’ I said, turning the subject back. ‘Get it out of the way. But make sure first that even you are sated.’ I got another uncertain look. Oh, the happy days of youth! I thought with a pang of envy. I looked at the remains of my breakfast. They could wait. Better than that, they could wait long enough for the bread to go slightly hard. I could then insist on soaking it in wine. I looked up at the rising noise of bangs and heavy treads. ‘Be a good man,’ I said to the slave, who’d stood patiently by throughout my conversation with Edward, ‘and have my bath made ready. After that, I can be taken up on to the roof. I want to supervise the placing of the instruments. Do also ask my Saracen secretary to attend me in the bathroom. I have letters to dictate.’
While I was still dithering over the choice of hot or hotter water in the bath, Karim decided on a call. A pleased look on his face, he perched himself on the ledge of the marble tub.
‘If you pluck them all out,’ I said to the attendant, ‘I’ll have none left at all. But do rid me of enough purely white eyebrows to give me a younger appearance.’ I peered into the steaming water at my legs. Depilation was off the menu for someone of my age. But another shave all over would see me right up until the day of the banquet. If I stewed here long enough, the few patches of body hair that the years had left me would come off without too much scraping…