"That is true," Sadiq agreed. Having finished with the horses, one of the stablehands led the white horse to the amir and passed the reins to him. Lord Sadiq placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up into the saddle. "Let us pray, however," he said, "that we live to ride through the streets of Byzantium first."
We then made our way in slow and stately progress along the wide central street of Ja'fariya to the khalifa's palace, drawing stares and greetings from the people in the streets as we passed. Upon arriving at the palace, we were greeted by the wazir and led through one stunning room after another to our audience with the most powerful man in the whole of the Arabian empire.
Caliph al'Mutamid, by the will of Allah, Ruler of the Abbasids, Protector of the Faithful, was a round-shouldered fat man with a long, wispy grey beard and soulful dark eyes. He was arrayed like one of his fabled thousand peacocks, in lapis lazuli blue and emerald, with sparkling flashes of crimson. Each garment was interwoven with gold and silver threadwork, and a peacock plume surmounted his bulging satin turban of glistering grey. His wide belt was the same satiny stuff, and he wore a long, curved dagger with a golden, gem-studded handle protruding from the folds across his dome-shaped belly.
As the wazir had told us, the Great One sat under a large, full-leafed fig tree, propped up on damasc cushions, a small writing desk ready to hand should the awaited inspiration strike. Around him lay bowls of fruit and breads of various kinds-to help fortify him for his vigil, no doubt. Two braziers sent clouds of fragrant incense wafting on the soft breezes stirring beneath the leafy canopy of branches.
Had I been a poet in the khalifa's place, I believe the garden itself would have supplied inspiration enough for many great works; it appeared the very semblance of what God must have had in mind when he created Eden. Neither leaf, nor bud, nor branch, nor blade of grass was misplaced; each plant and every tree was the paragon of its kind, residing in perfect harmony with every other plant and tree. But the caliph, far from basking in the serenity of his beautiful surroundings, appeared bored and unhappy; he sat slumped in his cushions as if he had been dropped there from a great height.
At our approach, al'Mutamid roused himself from his stupor and sat up, blinking his eyes. "Tabataba'i!" he cried. "There you are! How dare you keep me waiting like this!"
"Calm yourself, excellent one," soothed the wazir with exaggerated patience. "Amir Sadiq has arrived. He wishes a word with your highness." He bowed and gestured the amir forward. "I will leave you to discuss your affairs in private."
"By all means, Tabataba'i, please stay," suggested the amir quickly. "If the khalifa has no objection, I have none."
"Let him stay," muttered the caliph irritably. His head swivelled and he passed a critical eye over me. "Who is this man? What does he want?"
"May the peace of Allah be with you, Great Khalifa. With the khalifa's kind permission, I present to your highness my advisor. His name is Aidan. He has recently joined my household."
"He is not an Arab," al'Mutamid pointed out.
"No, Majesty," replied Sadiq smoothly, "he comes from Erlandah-a sea island far to the west."
"I have never heard of this place," grumped the khalifa, then doubt clouded his face. "Have I, Tabataba'i? Have I ever heard of this place?"
"Assuredly not, Highness," answered the wazir.
"Ah!" cried the khalifa triumphantly. "You see! You see!" He took up the corner of his robe and blew his nose. "The angels come here, you know." He gestured vaguely to the garden. The khalifa's hands were long and his fingers thin-a feature oddly out of place on a man so fat.
"Aidan has come here to help us in our relations with the emperor," the amir continued. He seemed unconcerned by his superior's shocking behaviour.
The khalifa's head swivelled towards me again. "Has he indeed?" He looked at me through narrowed eyes. "The Emperor of the West is a Christian," he informed me. "Are you a Christian also?"
I did not know what or whether to reply, but Sadiq indicated that I should answer. "Yes," I replied. "That is, I was-but no longer."
al'Mutamid nodded gravely. "They say the emperor is fond of horses."
"I believe this is true," I confirmed. "I have seen some of his horses."
"How many?"
"Your majesty?"
"How many horses did you see?"
"Six, I believe."
"Six!" roared al'Mutamid; his laughter shook the leaves on the nearby branches. "Six! Did you hear, Tabataba'i? The emperor has but six horses! I have six thousand!" Abruptly, the khalifa became suspicious. "Where did you learn to speak like this?"
"I was taught in Lord Sadiq's house by an excellent teacher-a young man named Mahmoud."
"He is not an Arab, either," observed al'Mutamid wearily. He yawned, already losing interest in the proceedings.
"No, Highness," agreed Sadiq, "Mahmoud is an Egyptian."
