The Holy Sail by Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud Page B

‘The amir demands your urgent presence,’ he shouted out to Hussein, panting.
    â€˜Why? What happened?’
    â€˜His Highness is going to Cairo and wants you to be with him. Something seems to have happened at the palace there. Clearly it is serious, because the amir ordered preparations to be made for a long sojourn, and wants all commanders to be with him without exception, including you.’
    The road from Alexandria to Cairo straddled picturesque stretches of farmland. Over the years, palm trees had been planted on both sides, and now served travellers, providing them with shade and dates. There were many inns along the way, built by Mamluk amirs and the sheikhs of Sufi orders, offering food and lodging for their guests. The entire roadside was almost a charitable endowment to travellers, with the inns, kitchens and planted trees serving all those passing by, free of charge for those in need.
    The convoy of Qansouh al-Ghawri, the amir, included twenty camels laden with baggage. Fifty fully armed and armoured horsemen escorted it and mules carrying sundry cooking wares followed closely behind. A company of penurious Sufis trailed the caravan as well; they usually followed Mamluk amirs when they travelled, to take advantage of their magnanimity.
    Ghawri rode at the front of his horsemen, his most trusted officers, including Hussein, riding behind him. Hussein turned to Amir al-Ghawri, and was able to see part of his face. The amir had a distinctive long white beard. Though life’s trials and ordeals had left their mark on his face, and age – he was well into his sixties – had bent his back, he still retained a commanding presence. He had served as a commander of a military detachment in Syria and a Mamlukchamberlain in Aleppo, before he returned to Alexandria, retiring from politics.
    The amir was not a talkative man. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, issuing orders from time to time to his officers and aides in a quiet, confident voice. There was something about him that made Hussein gravitate towards him, but he was not quite sure what it was. Had a solid sense of loyalty to his master been ingrained in him during his training? Was it the paternal way Ghawri always treated him? Or was it the charity he showed the poor often and generously? Hussein held him in a higher regard than the sultan himself, who was squandering the realm’s resources, abusing the populace and stealing from the funds of public endowments.
    Hussein desperately wished that his master would decide to contend for the throne to set everything right. But Ghawri seemed content with merely watching the power struggle from a distance without taking part. That had been his decision since he returned from Aleppo, and he had not changed his mind.
    When the cavalcade reached Cairo, it was received by a band of flautists and musicians beating on cymbals and drums, announcing the amir’s arrival. Ghawri and his party cut their way through the crowds into the sultan’s castle, which then closed its gates in the face of the interlopers following the convoy. At the main courtyard in the castle, the travel-weary riders dismounted and adjusted their garments before entering the sultan’s court.
    Hussein was not pleased with what was happening. He did not know why the amir and his entourage had come to Cairo, and did not dare to ask. Coming to the capital withthe amir was no reason to celebrate; Hussein preferred Alexandria, and the noise the waves made, the smell of the sea, and the sight of the sailboats there. Cairo would deprive him of all that.
    The band was still playing outside, as though declaring that glad tidings were to be expected shortly. Amir al-Ghawri entered the sultan’s hall followed by his delegation. Sultan Qaitbay and the senior members of his court stood for Ghawri. Even the
khasiki
* slaves stood up in the back; the amir commanded great respect in the palace, thanks to the services he