Free The Book of Saladin by Tariq Ali Page B

public flogging at the Bab al-Zuweyla, and the errant wife was sent to a lame preacher, blind in one eye. The preacher, instead of offering her spiritual sustenance, soon seduced her, and at this point the curtain began violently shaking. A shadow-copulation began, with a cucumber symbolising the preacher’s penis and a gourd his victim’s vagina.
    On most occasions, when these plays reach their bawdy climax the audience joins in with unrestrained laughter and slow claps, but not tonight. With entry effected, the musicians began to hum a dirge. This union, they were telling us, was not a joyous one.
    The atmosphere during the second interval was more restrained. People spoke in whispers. Misfortunes like this were common in the town, but it was obvious to everyone that the half-blind preacher was a barely disguised version of the Sultan. That was why Ilmas, the eunuch, had wanted me to come here tonight. Was this Halima’s revenge? I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to confront the grinning visage of Ilmas.
    “How did our great scholar find the play?”
    “Who wrote it, Ilmas? Who?”
    “Can’t you guess?”
    I shook my head.
    “I think,” he whispered, “the authorship will be obvious before the performance concludes.”
    There was something in the way he spoke that sent a chill through my body. Instinctively I felt that I should leave at this point, and not stay till the end. I was curious to see how it would end, but I was also fearful.
    The Sultan trusted me. If he found out that I had been present at this occasion, but had not provided him with a detailed account, he might question my loyalty. If I stayed till the end, I would have to tell the Sultan. If I left now, it would be proof enough that I had a low regard for the play and did not believe it merited any special report.
    I nodded a farewell to Ilmas, who could not conceal his surprise, and began to walk away.

Eight
The story of the sheikh who, in order to keep his lover at home with him, forces his sister into marriage with the man, and the disastrous consequences for all three
    “Y OU HAD BETTER PROCEED immediately to the audience chamber, Ibn Yakub. The Sultan has been waiting for you and he is not in good spirits this morning.”
    Shadhi’s tone worried me, but from his eyes I learnt nothing. Perhaps it was my now waning guilt at having attended the shadow-play. I had misinterpreted his voice.
    The Sultan was indeed looking stern, but he was not alone. The Kadi al-Fadil was seated in front of him. Both men smiled as I entered the chamber. That, at least, was reassuring. I bowed and took my place, just below the Sultan’s throne.
    “Peace be upon you, Ibn Yakub,” said the Sultan. “I’m glad you did not stay for the final act of the performance in the Turcoman quarter last night. Al-Fadil and I were admiring your good taste and judgement.”
    The Kadi aimed his stern gaze straight at me. I did not avert my eyes. He smiled with his lips, but his eyes remained hard.
    “The eunuch who betrayed the Sultan’s trust was executed early this morning. If you take a walk this evening you will see how his head decorates the Bab al-Zuweyla.”
    I nodded my head in appreciation. Should I ask them why the foolish Ilmas had decided on the course which had led to his beheading, or was it better to remain silent? Curiosity triumphed. I looked at al-Fadil.
    “Why did the eunuch Ilmas decide...?”
    “The answer lies in the play. He was in love with the red-haired temptress. She had rebuffed him several times. The only way to possess her was in his imagination.”
    “Enough!” said Salah al-Din with a frown. “We have more important matters to discuss. Begin, al-Fadil, and prepare to write, scribe.”
    The Kadi raised his glass of lukewarm mint tea to his lips, draining it in a single gulp as if he needed extra strength. Al-Fadil was not a well man. Ibn Maymun had told me that his diet was unhealthy. His weight was too heavy for a man his size, and