Al-Khlata strode into the chamber. He removed the jewelled sword of the vizier from his scabbard and laid it before him. The dozen Nubian commanders who accompanied him also placed their swords on the ground. They all knelt, and the gold curtain rose to reveal the veiled caliph seated on his throne. Two dozen of Yusuf’s men — dressed in the uniforms of the caliph’s personal guard — stood along the wall behind the throne.
‘Al-Khlata,’ the caliph said. ‘What brings you to my court?’
‘Joyous news, Al-Adid. The infidel Saladin is dead, and his Sunni troops are fleeing our city. Egypt shall soon be returned to the hands of Egyptians.’
Al-Adid gestured to Al-Khlata’s sword. ‘I see you carry the sword of the Vizier.’
‘Forgive my presumption, Caliph. I took it from the Vizier’s palace. Saladin’s death was my doing. Now that he is gone, I had hoped you would allow me to serve you as vizier. But of course, you should do as you think right.’
While Al-Khlata was speaking, Al-Adid stole several glances in Yusuf’s direction. Yusuf pulled back the curtain just enough so he could see the throne and nodded. The caliph looked back to Al-Khlata. ‘I do not need your permission to do as I see fit,’ he said. ‘I declare your life forfeit for rebelling against Saladin, my appointee as the rightful ruler of Egypt.’
Al-Khlata picked up his sword. ‘You are in no position to threaten me, Caliph.’
‘But I am.’ Yusuf stepped into the room, flanked by Saqr and Al-Mashtub.
Al-Khlata paled. ‘Impossible.’ He pointed his blade at Yusuf. ‘You are dead!’
Yusuf’s only reply was the hiss of steel against the leather of his scabbard as he drew his sword. The guards along the back wall stepped forward with swords in hand, and a dozen more of Yusuf’s men arrived to block Al-Khlata’s retreat from the chamber. The Nubians picked up their swords, but Yusuf could see the resignation in their faces. They were outnumbered three to one. They knew they would die.
‘Caliph, stop them!’ Al-Khlata begged. ‘I only wished to rid Egypt of these Sunni dogs.’ The caliph said nothing. Al-Khlata’s pleading grew more frantic. ‘I have served you faithfully for years. Please, I beg you! We had an agr-’
‘Kill them!’ the caliph shouted. ‘Kill them all!’
Yusuf’s men closed on the Nubians from all directions. Yusuf charged towards Al-Khlata, but a towering Nubian blocked his path. Yusuf parried the Nubian’s curved blade before slamming his shoulder into him. He stumbled back as if he had hit a stone wall. The Nubian grinned, his teeth white against his dark skin, and hacked down at Yusuf’s head. Yusuf sidestepped the blow and thrust for his opponent’s chest. The Nubian brought his scimitar sweeping back to knock Yusuf’s sword aside and then reversed his blade. Yusuf jumped back, but the tip of the sword grazed the mail covering his chest. The huge Nubian charged, chopping down with a mighty blow, which Yusuf parried. The Nubian kicked out, catching him in the gut and doubling him over. Yusuf’s adversary grinned in triumph and swung down to decapitate him, but the sword was blocked at the last moment by Saqr’s blade. Yusuf buried his sword in the Nubian’s throat. The man fell, spilling blood on the white marble floor.
‘You take too many risks, sayyid,’ Saqr said. ‘The Vizier should not-’
Al-Khlata was charging from behind Saqr. Yusuf shoved him out of the way and stepped forward to parry the Egyptian’s attack. Yusuf countered with a thrust that forced Al-Khlata backwards and then pursued his foe, hacking down as Al-Khlata gave ground. The Egyptian’s gold blade dented and warped under the blows from Yusuf’s steel sword. Yusuf gave a final swing, and Al-Khlata’s blade snapped in two. The Egyptian tossed the ruined weapon aside and sank to his knees. Beyond him, two Nubians were swarmed by Yusuf’s men and taken down. Al-Mashtub cut down the last of the rebels.
‘Please,’ Al-Khlata begged. ‘Have mercy! Spare me, and I will save your life.’
‘You murdered my uncle.’ Yusuf raised his sword.
‘Don’t be a fool! The Nubians control the palace. If you kill me, you will die!’
Yusuf brought his blade down on Al-Khlata’s neck. He wiped the blade clean on the dead Egyptian’s caftan. ‘Al-Mashtub, once the city is in hand, have these traitors hung from the gates as a warning to those who would rebel against me.’ Yusuf turned to the caliph. ‘You, come with me.’
‘I–I am God’s deputy,’ Al-Adid replied, his haughty tone undercut by the shaking in his voice. ‘Do not presume to give me orders.’
‘Saqr, bring him.’
Yusuf strode from the chamber, and Saqr followed with the caliph. They passed through luxurious rooms, the thick carpets now wet with blood and littered with dead Nubian warriors. A thousand of Yusuf’s best men had lain in wait in the palace. They had let the Nubians enter before emerging to slaughter them. The carnage was worst in the vaulted entrance hall. Yusuf’s men had sealed off the doors, trapping hundreds of Nubians before raining down arrows from the balconies above. The caliph’s face paled as they passed the bodies that were now stacked three and four deep on either side of the hall. They reached the door leading outside, and Yusuf’s men pulled it open. The square before the palace was packed with Nubian warriors waiting to welcome a victorious Al-Khlata.
‘Go and tell the Nubians that I live,’ Yusuf told the caliph. ‘Tell them that if they lay down their arms, their lives will be spared.’
Al-Adid took a step outside, but then froze. ‘They will not listen. Al-Khlata was right: the Nubians are too many for you to overcome. Surrender, and I will guarantee your life.’
‘It is not my life you should be concerned about.’ Yusuf gripped the caliph’s arm and dragged him outside. His men followed and fanned out to form a line five deep atop the steps leading down to the square. ‘Tell them,’ Yusuf insisted, and pushed the caliph through the line.
‘The Caliph!’ someone in the square cried. ‘Al-Adid!’ The cry was taken up by other Nubians. ‘Al-Adid! Al-Adid!’
The caliph raised his arms for silence. ‘Loyal troops!’ he shouted. ‘I know that you are ever faithful to your caliph. I wish for no further bloodshed. Lay down your arms and accept the rule of my appointed vizier, Saladin, and your lives will be spared!’
At first there was stunned silence. Then one of the Nubians shouted, ‘Saladin is a Sunni dog! Where is Al-Khlata?’
Yusuf stepped forward. ‘Al-Khlata is dead, as are your commanders! If you do not wish to join them, then you will surrender now!’
‘To hell with you!’ one of the Nubians replied. ‘Let’s kill the bastard!’ There was a roar of approval from the dark-skinned warriors, and they rushed up the steps. The caliph ran for the safety of the palace, while Yusuf’s men surged forward. The two lines met with the clash of steel.
‘You gave them a chance, sayyid,’ Saqr shouted over the din of battle.
Yusuf nodded. He raised his voice and called to four mamluk archers who stood around a brazier filled with burning coals. ‘It is time! Signal Qaraqush!’
The archers each took an arrow, the tips of which had been wrapped in cotton, and touched them to the coals. The arrows burst into flame, and the archers shot them high into the sky.
Yusuf looked away from the arrows and towards the Nubian barracks, which lay beyond the southern wall. A trace of smoke appeared and hung in the blue sky before the wind swept it away. There was more smoke, then more until the sky south of the city had turned black. Amongst the Nubians there were shouts of consternation. Men from the rear ranks began to slip away, heading for the southern gate. Yusuf’s mamluks started to push the enemy line back down the steps as more and more Nubians fled. And then the enemy line dissolved as all the Nubians turned and ran for their barracks, desperate to save their families from the flames.