Gumushtagin laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. ‘Come now. You are not so hard as that, Saladin. You have seen a woman stoned, yes? Is that the fate you want for Asimat? Do you want Al-Salih’s blood on your hands?’
Yusuf’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Finally, he shook his head.
‘I thought not. Tomorrow, your army will withdraw to Egypt. And before a year has passed, your son Al-Salih will sit on the throne of Syria.’
‘And you will be the power behind that throne,’ Yusuf said bitterly.
Gumushtagin shrugged. ‘Al-Salih is only a child. He will need someone to look after his interests.’ He met Yusuf’s eyes. ‘Do we have an agreement, Saladin?’
Yusuf nodded. What else could he do?
‘Good.’ Gumushtagin turned to go, but Yusuf grabbed his arm.
‘Be careful what you wish for, Gumushtagin. Once Nur ad-Din is dead, you will have no power over me. The next time we meet, I will kill you. I swear it.’
Chapter 14
JULY TO AUGUST 1173: CAIRO
Yusuf and his guard entered Cairo through the Al-Futuh gate after a tour of the new walls that Qaraqush was building. Extending the wall to the Nile meant that a besieging army would no longer be able to cut Cairo off from the river. In addition, Yusuf was extending the southern wall to include the rich gardens south and west of the city. In Alexandria, he had witnessed what happened when a city ran short of food. That would not happen here. Once the walls were finished, Cairo would be able to withstand a siege lasting months, even years.
When he reached the palace, Yusuf handed his horse to an attendant and strode inside. He was halfway across the entrance hall when he stopped short. Turan stood waiting at the far end. Yusuf had not seen his older brother for nearly twelve years, not since he had left Turan in charge of Tell Bashir, the fortress in Syria that had been Yusuf’s first fief. Turan had always been an imposing man, tall with a broad chest and shoulders, but now his thick build had softened. He had a paunch and heavy jowls. His dark hair showed traces of grey. Yusuf wondered if he, too, looked so old.
Turan grinned. ‘Brother! As-salaamu ‘alaykum!’ He crossed the hall and engulfed Yusuf in a hug, and then kissed him on both cheeks.
‘Ahlan wa-Sahlan, Turan,’ Yusuf murmured, thrown off balance by his brother’s warm greeting. As children, Turan had bullied Yusuf mercilessly until the day Yusuf finally bested his brother in a fight. Even after Turan had agreed to serve as one of Yusuf’s emirs, the two had not been close. It seemed that Turan’s temperament had softened with time.
‘What brings you to Cairo?’ Yusuf asked.
Turan’s grin faded. He glanced at the mamluk guards stationed in the hall. ‘We should speak in private.’ Yusuf led Turan to a small chamber where visitors were sent to wait for their audience with the king. ‘Nur ad-Din has taken Tell Bashir from us, Brother.’
‘What? When?’
‘A month ago. A thousand mamluks under Al-Muqaddam arrived and demanded that I hand over the fortress. I had no hope of holding out against such a number. Nor did I think it wise to defy our lord.’
‘You did well, Brother. Did Al-Muqaddam say why Nur ad-Din was reclaiming Tell Bashir?’
‘No. I went to Aleppo to assure Nur ad-Din of my loyalty. He refused to see me, Brother. Men at court whisper that you are a traitor. They say that Nur ad-Din was furious when you withdrew from Kerak. He has declared publicly that if you do not come to him in Aleppo, he will march on Cairo and sack the city.’
The sudden burning in Yusuf’s stomach was so painful that he was forced to place a hand on the wall to keep from doubling over. He took a deep breath. ‘And if I do go to Aleppo?’
Turan shook his head. ‘Gumushtagin has poisoned our lord against you. I believe that Nur ad-Din means to see you dead, whether you go to him or not.’
‘Dark times are upon us, friends.’ Yusuf paused and looked around the council chamber at his advisers: his father Ayub, his brothers Selim and Turan, the mamluk emirs Qaraqush and Al-Mashtub, and his private secretaries Imad ad-Din and Al-Fadil. They met atop the tallest tower in Yusuf’s palace, a practice that he had borrowed from Nur ad-Din. Here, he could be sure they would not be overheard.
‘Turan has brought news from Aleppo,’ Yusuf continued. ‘Nur ad-Din is preparing to march on Egypt.’
No one spoke, but the pale faces of the men revealed their alarm. Ayub recovered first. ‘You must send a message to him immediately. Tell Nur ad-Din that there is no need for him to attack Egypt. Tell him that if he wishes to see you, he need only send for you and you will come as his humble servant.’
Yusuf shook his head. ‘Turan says that Nur ad-Din means to see me dead, and my friends in his court confirm this. If I go to him, I shall never return.’
‘What will you do?’ Selim asked.
‘I have no choice. I will fight.’
Ayub scowled. ‘But Nur ad-Din is your lord!’
‘I am the King of Egypt, Father, and my first duty is to my people. But none of you are kings. If any of you do not wish to fight Nur ad-Din, then I understand. You may leave now.’
There was a pause that seemed agonizingly long to Yusuf. Finally Qaraqush spoke. ‘I will stand by you, Yusuf.’
One by one, the others also pledged their loyalty, until only Ayub had not spoken. All eyes turned towards him. He rose and strode to the door.
‘Father!’ Yusuf cried, but Ayub left the chamber without looking back. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell that led down from the tower. Yusuf hurried after him. ‘Father, wait!’ He caught up to Ayub at the bottom of the curving stairway and grabbed his arm. ‘Where are you going?’
Ayub shook off Yusuf’s hand. ‘I will not stay and listen while you plot treason.’
‘It is not treason to defend my lands.’
‘No, but it was treason to refuse to meet Nur ad-Din in Kerak. And it is treason to build walls around Cairo to keep out your rightful lord.’
‘You will return to Damascus?’ Yusuf asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. ‘You would choose Nur ad-Din over your own son?’
Ayub sighed and bowed his head. He suddenly looked every bit of his more than sixty years. ‘I am your father, Yusuf, and if there is anyone who loves you and wishes you well, it is I. I will stay in Cairo and serve you as I am able. But know this: if Nur ad-Din comes here, nothing will prevent me from bowing before him and kissing the ground at his feet. If he ordered me to lop off your head with my sword, I would do it.’
Yusuf turned away so that his father could not see the wetness in his eyes. ‘I do not understand why you love him so.’
‘He took us in when we had nothing. We owe him everything.’
‘You owe him everything.’ Yusuf turned to face his father. ‘I have made my own kingdom.’
‘Such talk reeks of treason, my son.’
‘Who are you to speak to me of treason? I am your king so long as you live in Egypt. I am your son, too, yet you think nothing of betraying me. Tell me truly, Father: what will happen if I go to Nur ad-Din, as you suggest?’
Ayub lowered his gaze. His silence spoke for him. Yusuf’s jaw clenched as he fought back tears of anger and disappointment. His father had taught him to value honour above all else, to put loyalty before family and friends. He should have expected nothing less from him.
Ayub placed a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘More than your life is at stake. What do you think will happen if you resist our lord? It will plunge the East into chaos. The Franks will take advantage of our dissension to attack. Everything we have gained over the last thirty years will be lost. But if Nur ad-Din controls Egypt and Syria, then he can take Jerusalem. He can drive out the Franks.’
‘And I will die.’
‘A sacrifice worth making. I will go with you to Aleppo, Yusuf. Whatever fate Nur ad-Din decrees for you, I will share it.’
‘I cannot.’ Yusuf opened his mouth to continue, but then shook his head. He could not tell his father that he had already betrayed their lord, and in a far worse manner than Ayub could have imagined.