The Book of Saladin Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave, have her sent to me.”
    The Kadi bowed and, without the tiniest acknowledgement of my presence, he left the room.
    “What as yet I cannot understand, Ibn Yakub,” said the Sultan, “is why al-Fadil brought this case to me. Perhaps it was because he could not risk executing a Misrian officer without my approval. Perhaps. I suppose that’s the reason. But one must never underestimate al-Fadil. He is a sly camel. I’m sure there was a hidden motive.”
    At this point a retainer entered, and announced that Halima was outside the door. The Sultan nodded, and she was ushered before him. She fell on her knees and bowed, touching his feet with her forehead.
    “Enough of this,” said the Sultan in the harsh voice of a ruler sitting in judgement. “Sit down in front of us.”
    As she sat up, I saw her face for the first time. It was as if a lamp had lit the room. This was no ordinary beauty. Despite her sadness, her tearful eyes were shining and intelligent. This one would not go willingly to the executioner. She would fight. Resistance was written on her face.
    As I turned to the Sultan, pen poised and waiting for him to speak, I could see that he too was bewitched by the sight of this young woman. She must have been twenty years old, at the most.
    Salah al-Din’s eyes betrayed a softness I had not seen before, but I had not been with him before in the presence of a woman. He was staring at her with an intensity which would have frightened anyone else, but Halima looked straight into his eyes. It was the Sultan who finally averted his gaze. She had won the first contest.
    “I am waiting,” he finally said. “Tell me why I should not hand you over to the Kadi, who will have you stoned to death for your crime.”
    “If love is a crime,” she began in a self-pitying tone, “then, Commander of the Merciful, I deserve to die.”
    “Not love, wretched woman, but adultery. Betraying your husband before God.”
    At this her eyes blazed. The sadness had evaporated and she began to speak. Her voice changed too. She spoke with confidence and with no trace of humility. She had entirely regained her self-possession, and spoke to the Sultan in a confident voice as though addressing an equal.
    “I could not understand how small this world can be for two people. When Messud was not with me, the memory of him became a torment. I care not whether I live or die, and I will submit to the Kadi’s punishment. He can have me stoned to death, but I will not beg for mercy or shout my repentance to the vultures. I am sad, but I am not sorry. The short spell of happiness was more than I had thought possible in this life.”
    The Sultan asked if she had any relatives. She shook her head. He then requested Halima to tell her story.
    I was two years old when I was sold to the family of Kamil ibn Zafar. They said I was an orphan, found abandoned miles away by Kurdish traders. They had taken pity on me, but the term of their pity was limited to only a couple of years. Kamil ibn Zafar’s mother could not conceive again. Her husband, they told me at the time, was dead. She lived in her father’s house, and this kind old man bought her a child from the streets. I was part of the seasonal trade. That is all I know of my past.
    Kamil was ten or eleven years old at the time. He was kind and loving even then, and always attentive to my needs. He treated me as though I was his real sister. His mother’s attitude was different. She could never decide whether to bring me up as a daughter or as a slave girl. As I grew older, she became clearer as to my functions in the house. I still ate with the family, which annoyed the other servants, but I was trained to become her serving woman. It was not such a bad life, though I often felt lonely. The other serving women never fully trusted me.
    Every day an old man came to the house to teach us the wisdom of the Koran, and to recount the deeds of the Prophet and his Companions. Soon Kamil had stopped