GHAYN
Dressed in the uniform of the Guards, we left Istanbul and travelled on
two fast horses until we reached Haql garrison. Here, we showed one of
the Breves the Sultan gave to us, left our horses and weapons in their
custody and asked them to obtain beggars' rags for us. Thereafter,
accompanied by two mounted soldiers we were left not far from the gates
of Duba, from where we started our wandering on foot. We had decided to
live as beggars from the very beginning, so we started asking for alms.
The first days were exceptionally hard: to sleep on the bare ground, in
the open, to eat bad food and not much of it, sometimes to be chased
away and ill treated was not exactly pleasant! But never Amin complained
- on the contrary he showed his happiest smile. Slowly, on foot we
advanced through Mussa's territory. Within a few days our appearance had
changed: we were dirty, we had lost weight, and our neglected beards and
hair made of us two genuine faqir.
Along our way we also noticed how many of Mussa's soldiers there were in
each city, town and village, what defences, the location of the weak
points and mentally we took notes. Amin, during our slow roaming, also
carefully observed the people.
One day he said to me: "Have you noticed that the most generous are also
the poorest? The rich people, when we are lucky to get anything at all,
give us only the alms prescribed by the Al Qur'an, and often with a
complete lack of grace!"
"But there are some exceptions."
"Very few. Why is it that rich people, who could give much more, cling
so firmly to their wealth?"
"Probably it is because they are so greedy with their money that they
are so rich, do you not think?"
"It could be. But my father was generous and I too will be, especially
with beggars."
"Generosity is a gift from Allah and you received many gifts from the
Powerful."
"You, for instance," answered Amin with a smile.
He often said such exquisite words about me, and each time it was like a
balm making my life pleasurable and precious.
Slowly we approached the territory that had belonged to Amin's father.
Here also we wandered asking for alms, as we had done for the last three
months. A miserable way of life... Eventually, Amin decided it was time
to begin finding to what extent his people had remained faithful. So,
one day, in a small village half way into the mountains, pretending to
be foreigners, Amin said to a man that gave us something to eat:
"May Allah bless you. And bless this village."
"Yes, we really need it," he answered sadly.
"Why? This seems to be a happy place..."
"It was. It is no more, not since Mussa ibn Saleh came to rule us."
"But... is not Hassem your Shaikh?"
"Yes, as a puppet in his grandfather's hands. If Hassam was alive, or at
least his son Amin..."
"What happened to them?"
"Hassam was murdered by Mussa, and Amin... nobody knows. Some say he too
was killed, others say he escaped and one day will come back... Only
Allah knows the truth."
"But if he was alive, what could he alone do?"
"He would not be alone! Many would follow him. But many years have gone
by, and if he does not soon show himself..."
"But who can say this Amin will be better than Hassem?"
"He could not be worse! Hassem takes everything from us. Amin could
surely not take more!"
"But... even if Amin returned, after so many years, how could he make
himself recognized?"
"He would know how, I am certain. But these are just hopes, fantasies."
"What if an impostor came, perhaps even someone sent by Mussa to
discover who is really faithful to him?"
"Mussa knows very well that here very few people are loyal to him. He
does not need to send spies. But he does not fear, because he has many
soldiers and us fallahin do not have any weapons. This is just useless
talk, but it passes the time, and it is something of ours that Mussa
does not want," he said with a wry grin.
"Do many in your village feel the same as you?"
"Not just in this village..."
"But are you organized in some way?"
"Why do you ask so many questions, stranger?"
"Because I... I met Amin," I answered immediately.
The man knitted his brow and looked at me carefully: "You, beggar, you
have met Amin? Where?"
"Yes, and he sent us to explore. He is preparing for his return."
"I pray to Allah that you are telling the truth! But... what evidence do
you have to show that Amin is still alive and that he is really coming
back?"
"For the moment I have no proof to show you. We are here on his behalf
exploring for answers. He wants to be sure that his people have not
forgotten him, and that they will support him."
"His people would like to be sure they are not forgotten, stranger."
"He needs proof of your loyalty, before moving. Then he well show
himself to you and lead you in battle."
"He wants proof, we want proof..." the man mumbled, shaking his head.
Then Amin said: "You have to organize, organize all the people who want
Amin as their rightful Shaikh."
"Easily said! But the people will not move without something concrete.
We are all prepared to risk our lives, but only for something concrete,
not just for a faint hope."
"Can you assemble all the men you are sure will be faithful to Amin?"
"Yes. But what for?"
"I will show you the proof that Amin did not forget you, through all
these long years."
"Strange beggars, you two... All right, I will gather the men of the
village. But I warn you, if the proof is not more than convincing,
nobody will ever find any trace of you two. It is not good to play with
the hopes of honest people."
"Only trustworthy men: nobody who could possibly betray us. If Mussa
hears that Amin is coming, the Prince's life would be in serious danger,
do you understand?"
"Do not worry. I know my people very well. But now you must come with
me, if you want me to gather the village men."
"Where are you taking us?"
"I will lock you in a safe place."
"And who is to say that you will not call Mussa's men? What security can
you give us?"
"I will lock my firstborn son, Abdul, in the room with you. And I will
give you a dagger. If Mussa's men come, you will slit his throat. Is
that sufficient guarantee of my intentions?"
"It is more than sufficient. We are in your hands."
The man led us to his home. He locked us in a windowless room with his
son Abdul, a sixteen year old boy, gave me the dagger, then bolted the
door from the outside. I tried to talk to Abdul, but he looked at us in
silence and did not answer to our questions. After night had fallen, the
villager returned to the house, unlocked the door and entered the room:
"The men are waiting for you. Come."
We went out into the dark of the night and went uphill following a small
path, keeping Abdul between us. The man knew the way very well and,
using only the light of the moon, led us to a small plateau partly
hidden between the rocks. There several men wrapped in their cloaks,
dark and still shadows in the half darkness, were waiting in silence.
"Here are the two beggars," our companion said simply.
One of them said: "What do you have to tell us? Speak!"
Amin replied: "Light a fire. I want us to be able to look each other's
faces while speaking."
The men murmured among themselves, then some shadowy figures moved
about, and after a short while a fire burned in front of us.
Amin said: "Draw nearer and show your faces: then I will speak."
For a while no-one moved. Then one man moved closer, then another and
another; they uncovered their faces and scrutinized us carefully. When
everybody was close, Amin started to talk:
"You want proof that Amin did not forget you, that he wants to return
and lead you to take back what is his own. But if he comes, what proof
would you ask of him? How could he show you he is not an impostor?"
"If we ask for proof, any skilled impostor could forge it. It is up to
him to give us convincing proof."
"All right. He will give you the convincing proof. But to move, a dozen
men like you, while worthy, are simply not enough. Mussa's men are many
and well armed, but above all are skilled in using their weapons. If
there is a fight, many of you will die."
"Other villages will rise up. The important thing is that Amin will be
our guide. And we too, shepherds, breeders and farmers can use sticks,
scythes and daggers. And we are far more numerous than Mussa's men. Many
of us will die, but be sure that many of them will die too."
"A professional soldier would soon get the better of all of you. With a
good weapon, I alone would suffice to take care of you all."
"You? Who do you think you are, boy?"
"Give me a staff, and then try to take it from me, if you can. I will
show you what I am able to do."
"Give him a stick and let us see. But beware, young man, you risk a good
trashing!"
One of the men intervened: "This is not the problem, stop it! The
problem now is just to find out whether or not it is trues that Amin
wants to return. And if he is the true Amin and not an impostor. What do
you have to say, you two, on this point?"
Then Amin said: "When Amin was born, there was an omen. He had on his
body a peculiar mark..."
An elder man said: "Yes, the black clover, three moles on his groin. But
this, everyone knows, at least those old enough to remember the time of
Amin's birth..."
"You think they could be forged?"
"Not enough to withstand a close inspection," the old man said.
"So, if a man arrived and showed you the black clover, would you accept
him as Amin?"
Then another man stood up and said: "Another man with three such moles
could exist. But I have a way to discover if he is the real Amin."
"What way is that?"
"Before I say, I want to see with my own eyes this man with the black
clover."
Amin looked at me and I imperceptibly nodded.
"I am Amin," he said simply and started to untie the worn breeches that
barely covered him.
As soon as he had uncovered his groin, exposing it to the light of the
fire, everyone approached to look. They murmured in low voices, pointing
to the mark, spoke in whispers, looked again. At last Amin covered
himself again and said:
"What more do you want to know, to believe I am who I say I am?"
The man that spoke before, approached Amin, looked straight in his eyes
and asked pointblank:
"The real Amin, when a child in the harem, had a preferred pastime. Tell
me what was it."
I looked at him asking myself what that man was talking about: Amin
never told me of such a thing. But my lord broke into a wide smile:
"That is easy. My mother had a slave whose name was Lahal. She let me
play with her long hair and I loved to plait her braids. This was my
preferred pastime."
The man prostrated in front of Amin and said: "My Lord! Lahal fled that
night. I found her and now she is my wife. How many times she told me
about you!"
Then he stood up and turned towards the other men: "There is no possible
doubt that this is our lord Amin. Lahal can confirm it."
Then everybody prostrated in front of Amin who said: "Stand up: you are
my first companions. From here my conquest will start. If I regain my
throne, I cannot promise you wealth or special honors, but one thing I
swear to you: I will be a fair sovereign."
We spoke with the men for a long while and started to organize. Each man
was to go to other villages wherever they had relatives or friends to
organize other groups of men loyal to Amin. Amin promised that, when
there were enough men ready to follow him, he would give them the best
weapons. We were still talking when Lahal's man came back with his wife.
As soon as she saw Amin, she prostrated in front of him crying with
emotion. Amin lifted her and caressed her hand. They spoke, while the
men went back to the village. The mullah, who was one of them, offered
us hospitality, but Amin refused:
"Until the day I sit on my throne, I will sleep on the bare ground and
in the open. But I will be back amongst you, this is my promise. For the
moment, accept just my thanks, my friends."
We spent the night in the mountains, and the following day we resumed
our journey.
FAA
One after the other, we visited many villages and in most we were
welcomed and got a ready answer. But one day we received terrible news:
somebody had betrayed us and one of the villages had been put to steel
and fire by Mussa's men. And now they were searching for Amin and I! The
village survivors asked if they could join us, so we constituted the
first band: we were just a tenth, badly armed, but slowly others joined
us as, crossing the mountains, we were heading towards the Turk
garrison. After little more than a month we reached our destination.
Leaving the men in the mountains, we two came to the gate asking to be
received by the commander.
At first we were ill treated, but when Amin showed the Sultan's Breve,
the soldiers attitude radically changed and we were taken into the
garrison immediately. Shortly the commander received us and when Amin
showed the mark he asked us to forgive him. He said that he had received
orders to give us all the weapons we wanted and declared himself at our
service.
Amin sent a letter to the Sultan asking him, apart from more arms and
ammunition, to be allowed to have some skilled veterans to organize our
men and to teach them how to use the weapons. Meanwhile the commander
had authorized our men to come down from the mountains and to camp
around the fort. The courier arrived back with the authorization from
the Sultan, and the news that more weapons and ammunition were on the
way. By the time carbines, gun powder and bullets, scimitars and bows
arrived, our men were almost fair soldiers.
We obtained some horses and donkeys, and left in a caravan. We had as
our destination one of the villages loyal to us that, due to its
position, was the easiest to defend and that we decided to transform in
our general quarters.
To reach it we had to make a wide detour to avoid Mussa's territory. As
soon as we arrived, we started to fortify the village. Other men
trickled in from the nearby villages carrying food and rough but useful
weapons, and tools and animals. To them too we distributed the weapons
brought by the fort.
When we felt strong enough, we commenced raids towards the plain,
attacking Mussa's garrisons. In the beginning we had luck, because they
were not prepared for attacks from an organized band. But soon we
started to find a more resistance. But our forces were growing day by
day and we continually obtained more weapons from the Turkish fort.
Little by little, seeing their behaviour in battle, we started to give
responsibilities to some of our men so our band started to take on the
aspect of an army. A small one but very well organized, more and more
numerous, disciplined and well armed. The real problem was the men's
training, it was proceeding too slowly. To forge fallahin into soldiers
was not something that could be achieved in a few weeks. To avoid
useless massacres, Amin had sent orders to villages not to move, not to
declare their loyalty until we arrived with our soldiers. It was a very
intense period, that forced us into frequent moves so that very seldom
we had quiet moments for ourselves. On rare occasions we were alone long
enough to abandon ourselves in each other's arms.
Amin was growing rapidly, and was becoming more and more self confident
and determined, but when we were alone and intimate he was always my
sweet lover, passionate and tender. The Ramadan of the year 1131 of the
Ajirah was approaching, when we heard rumors of a great movement of
Mussa's army toward our territory. We immediately organized our defences
to prevent our enemy from entering too deeply into territory under our
control. Studying the situation, and listening to the inhabitants of the
place, we thought that the best thing to do was to hide in the slopes of
the mountains surrounding the valley, allow the enemy to advance into
the valley then attack from the sides closing off their retreat. We were
not yet more than them, but we had the advantage of knowing well the
terrain, and we had many carbines.
Amin commanded the left slope, and I the right. I saw our enemy
penetrate into the valley. It seemed they had smelled our ambush. They
proceeded very slowly, exploring the sides, but not far enough up the
sides to see us. I awaited Amin's signal ordering the attack. At last I
saw it. I unsheathed my scimitar, the men loaded the carbines and at my
signal we ran down the side of the valley, shouting all together as loud
as we could. Soon we surrounded them and a furious scuffle started. For
a while the result of the battle seemed uncertain, but then slowly
turned in our favour.
Suddenly I realized that the enemy was concentrating on the point where
Amin was. So, with my mounted men, I went round the outside of the
scuffle to give him support. We were arriving at the critical point when
I saw an enemy squad coming against us. I turned my horse and called my
men. We were pushing them back when my horse, running at full gallop,
stumbled on an obstacle I did not see and I flew out of the saddle and
slammed against a small tree. I knocked my head and lost consciousness.
When I came around, I was tightly tied and they were transporting me on
a horse: I had fallen into enemy hands like a total beginner! Pretending
to be still unconscious I listened to their conversation and understood
they were taking me to Mussa's Palace as a prisoner. I thought that my
destiny was written, but if my sacrifice saved Amin, I did not care if I
died. Allah would welcome me in his Paradise, and that was enough for
me.
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