The great audience chamber in Al-Askar was again in use as it had not been since the death of Hisham. Sunlight fell through high windows over packed galleries and a main floor that was a sea of faces. From his position a step below the dais at the far end of the room, Jalal surveyed the assembled courtiers chatting in small groups. Behind him on a dais was a backless chair reserved for the boy ruler he “served.” Above him a large copula drew the attention of the neophytes in the galleries, but even a few of courtiers glanced up at times. After the first time he visited the chamber to proclaim his regency, Jalal had admired it in quiet awe.
Around the rim of the dome dozens of figures were depicted. Each wore the white of the hajj, but each held or wore a decoration that proclaimed their identity. Caliphs, prophets and mighty kings of history. Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz, Ali, Ibrahim, Isa and Harun ar-Rashid to name only a few. Each was surrounded by a halo of flames to obscure their faces. Each was shown in a posture of submission. Above them brushed with silver and gold dust were written the 99 Names in a style so elaborate they almost defied intelligibility. They swirled around walls of the dome circling to a center point which held... nothing. The blessed and the strong, dynamic, leading to the Names that flowed into the divine, serene void to culminate in the oneness of God.
A few of the clerics called it blasphemous. They claimed the scene distracted from proper contemplation, but Jalal thought them fools. Meditating upon the dome was an experience in transition from the actions of everyday life and left you standing alone before the divine.
For now Jalal did not even look. He might before he left. Today he was focused on those actions of everyday life. Clustered together at the front of the gathering were thirty men who stood out from the rest. Most were a Makurian embassy sent by the eparch of Dongola for King Istabanos II. Many had recognizably Arab features but darker. Jalal allowed them to bear some light weapons into the chamber to assuage any concerns. His own men were scattered through the hall, the gallery and hidden beyond the curtain behind the dais. He had high hopes for negotiations with them. With the Makurians were more strange and exotic people, one he’d only heard of, men of lesser height but very dark. An embassy from the Cholas of India.
According to his information, the Chola Empire in India had made vassals of small villages on the African coast south of the Horn to treat more directly with their suppliers. The ships of the Cholas were larger and more robust than anything the Arabs around the Red Sea could muster, though some of Jalal’s ships in the Mediterranean were close. In any case, they’d been able to substantially increase the trade between India and Africa. Consequently, the Cholas spent some money and influence to make it possible for a small group to spend the time between monsoon seasons in some comfort in Africa. What exactly Raghunatha Ramesh and his compatriots wanted was still not clear to him and he had little time to find out.
The Eastern Empire was in motion. Pirates he supported observed concentrations of ships gathering in several ports along the Anatolian coast. He no longer doubted that it would be a major expedition and that meant that Muhammad ibn Qasi of Damascus had triumphed over Nasir. He had not heard the details but it was no secret that the relationship between the two was in tension broken by the occasional quarrel. If it was decided... Those near him could see his slight smile.
Now is the moment.
He nodded and one his courtiers brought the envoys forward. Jalal could see Raghunatha’s eyes carefully studying everything. Jalal would have to be on his guard in the future but being more open could be beneficial for the moment. He stepped down from the dais for a quick symbol of his official submission to the “caliph” and the practical need to reach a place where the acoustics of the room allowed for some privacy. The courtiers continued their talk with a barely perceptible pause but he knew they were straining to listen. They were still unsure of how to handle him.
“Be welcome Susenyos,” Jalal said. “I regret the caliph could not attend, but the demands of state weight heavily on him yet. He spoke favorably of you after the formal introduction.”
Susenyos smiled blandly. “All health to the caliph, but the attention of the Sahib al-bab[1] is enough.” He paused. There was a brief commotion at the back of the room and a dull thud followed by a low cry. It was an opening of sorts. That Susenyos took it revealed his urgency. “I see that you have brought a number of bedouin leaders today. They troubled us greatly during the rule of the last caliph.”
I would not be surprised.
They were in the back mostly, with a few of the favored chieftains closer. There was some scuffling back there as they jockeyed for precedence but Muizz’s deputy was back there in case of real trouble with the bedouin. He might be willing to wager the Berbers living in the mountains were more civilized. In the generation prior to his arrival, drier conditions in Egypt led to a reduction in yields. The grain regularly bought by the Makurians saw a reduction in quantity and an increase in cost. Makurian weakness encouraged the bedouin to launch regular raids into the territory carrying off slaves and goods. Territory was lost.
“They’re a troublesome group,” he agreed. “But they have their uses.”
“You do intend to take them north,” Susenyos said. “You will be moving quickly then.”
“Very. Events have become propitious before God and I dare not defy Him.”
Susenyos only nodded, a practiced diplomat, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Raghunatha’s mouth twitch. That was a surprise. He had not known the Indian had that good Arabic, though he rather thought sarcasm was much the same in any language.
“I’ll not keep you from it,” Susenyos said. “But let me thank you for pulling back from Qasr Ibrim.”
The bedouin had seized that outpost at the time of Hisham’s ascension; Jalal forced them out. He wanted no trouble from the south for now. The bedouin were angry but he was going to assuage them very soon. Susenyos had two goals, get Jalal to keep the bedouin in line, and to make sure food shipments south continued. Jalal could do the first but wasn’t sure of the second. Profits were important but you can’t eat gold.
Susenyos introduced the Chola envoy to him as Raghunatha Ramesh Mudali but the envoy immediately said something and he corrected himself to Raghunatha Ramesh. Raghunatha bowed his head briefly and said a few words in moderately bad Arabic, attempting to downplay his level of understanding. Susenyos demonstrated a command of the language. Most of the conversion was diplomatic pleasantries but Raghunatha kept hinting at something. As the time came for his announcement, he agreed to meet with the Chola envoy again privately afterwards.
Muizz’s deputy Falak was escorting a few of the bedouin elders forward. Some were men who had been in the back of the room. While apparently chosen at random, Jalal had carefully selected them before hand. Knowing who to insult was almost as important as knowing who to be polite to with the bedouin. Jalal greeted them personally then mounted the dais to stand before the empty chair.
From the dais he proclaimed the campaign against Nasir and mentioned the chosen elders by name as men who would play important roles as army commanders. They preened under the attention, and he had to fight down a laugh. Not all the bedouin were so easily manipulated, but those who weren’t had been with him for years. They knew and valued his capabilities and would keep the rest in line long enough to do what was necessary. Now he announced the names of the men who would rule Egypt in his stead. Notably absent was Shahid ad-Din, the former commander. Jalal had other plans there.
“Let the sons of the desert and the sons of the steppes ride together on the winds of war! Let us draw our swords together and so--God willing--spill the soft city blood of Nasir al-Matin and the traitor, Ibn Qasi of Damascus!”
* * * * *
That night Jalal slipped away from the celebrations. His own men would remain within their limits and if the bedouin over-indulged or acted badly they would be restrained and made to know their place. In his office, he put the final touches to the orders that would send Shahid and his men west to take charge of Tunis and the operations against the Spaniards. Jalal had no fear that Shahid would usurp him there as Ibn Altun had done to the Makanids. Tripoli held too many of his own adherents for that. Besides, Shahid would take care of that problem for him when he failed to stop the Spaniards. His own reports had the commander down there as respectably skilled, and somehow, the Spaniards had managed to herd the Berbers together politically. Shahid was going to lose--had he any great chance of victory, Jalal wouldn’t have sent him.
He arched a brow when Raghunatha Ramesh was announced and he entered the office alone, his own men waiting outside.
“You don’t need an interpreter.”
“You already knew, no one else will know,” the Chola envoy replied. Unlike the rooms used for state functions, offices in Al-Askar tended to have comfortable benches and raised work desks. It was the legacy of the western influences on the Makanids, but for Jalal it was not uncommon. Raghunatha sat comfortably on a couch against the wall, playing with one of the fountain pens from Jalal’s desk. “You’ll be leaving in a few days? A fast departure.”
“When you act, act decisively. I have not interfered in the shipping agreements you had with the previous regime and my naval capacity is superior to theirs. The Makurians don’t wish to antagonize me by going pirate and I will be cracking down on Yemen’s brigands eventually. So for what other reason would you come?”
“Curiosity,” Raghunatha responded. “I was not born to command but I find myself looked to here in the west. I do well enough.”
Jalal had heard some rumors of how far Chola ships had explored the African coast and wondered why the Chola king had authorized it. Now Jalal suspected he hadn’t. But there had to be more to this visit than that. Raghunatha took pity on him.
“Your enemies have enlisted the help of the Romans, but you remained unconcerned.” For a moment Jalal was confused then realized he must have meant the Roman Emperor.[2]
“I would be a fool not be concerned. But I must do what I can do. Whatever I can do.”
Raghunatha’s eyes focused on him and he stopped toying with the pen.
“The Persians have recently begun to impose upon our allies south of Sind with surprising success. They wish to take more of the trade with the west. The king may have to take a hand himself soon. This country has often clashed with the Persians, and I seek what assistance could be had on their other border. I see now that this might have been premature. Recently there have been certain developments that have helped us become pre-eminent, but when we fight the Persians things may be more evenly matched than for some time.”
Jalal carefully kept his face expressionless. He had no idea what the Chola envoy meant.
Raghunatha shrugged. “I wonder what you
can do... But today, at least you can offer us nothing.”
“Not now no. In a few years...” Now it was Jalal’s turn to shrug. “Will you return to the south? I can spare a ship if yours could not remain.”
“Things are as well in hand as they can be and the king will be sending someone more qualified soon. Though we seek no dominion here than we already have. A few centuries ago there was a man of our country who traveled in the west. When he returned, he told some strange and fascinating tales. Damascus features in them, but other places too. Come to mention it, I might like to take you up on that offer of a ship soon. But westbound not east. I have always wanted to visit the Romans and... Tell me, have you ever heard of a land called Spaniya?”
___________________________
[1]Translation: Master of the Gate. Used by the Fatimids and stemming from term
hajib a term used by the Umayyads and Fatimids.
[2]For Jalal, “Romans” usually means “Italians who aren’t Spaniards” but “Roman Emperor” is the ruler in Constantinople. "Romans" can still mean the Eastern Empire as a whole as well, but Jalal just misread the context.
Well this ended up being a drama update, but events and hints were sprinkled throughout. The text itself runs a little long but most of that is conversations so it shouldn't be that text heavy. Next time we will definitely see Jalal at war.
).
