Court of the Caliph of Islam

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The Sultana Makes her Claim

​

Curtains flew open as Sultana Yasmine Mohammed and her personal guard stormed into the tent of Odchigin Sacha, Caliph of all Islam and Regent Emperor of the Almohad Empire. The winds of an approaching storm swirled behind her. The young sovereign was less than respectful or charitable as she discovered the Timurid lounging on his cushions.

"Get up, you who would be call himself Emperor, and cast aside the pipe which has clouded your judgement and disgraced your office!" shouted the Sultana, her voice quaking with fury. Barely had the Caliph noticed her than she continued her verbal assault.

"Only yesterday you presumptively march into the Almohad Imperial Council and lay down this dictate:

You have two days to find someone to rule Algeria - my successor. A Mongol should not stand over Arabs of the Maghrib. You have two days. Or I return for that sword, and replace you all with someone of my choosing

Never mind that my brother lay dead, fighting the Holy Jihad that the Turks and Arabs ignore! Never mind that you had, only a heartbeat before, told us of the death of Abu-Mohammed Abd el-Maliki, a wise and benevolent leader and loyal servant of the Empire! Never mind the coming war and what must be done to prepare for all of your countrymen.

We have done as you have asked, we have named a successor, a daughter of the Maghrib to serve the Maghrib and to rule the Maghrib. I shall carry on my brother's legacy and, if Allah is merciful and willing, I shall carry us far from the path that led to his destruction! You demanded your successor, you have received your wish. Your regency is ended and I shall take what is mine.

As for your duties as Caliph, for which you demanded more time, see this which has been penned by the traitorous Osmanlis!"

A nervous handmaiden ran into the tent and produced a crumped and slightly ripped parchment bearing the seal of the Turks. She presented it to the Sultana who held it before the Caliph, who already had his own copy.

"Your people are new to the recent events of this Mediterranean War, so allow me to share some facts with you.

The Osmanlis have some unexplainable an unjustified hatred of the Almohads. They are liars and hypocrates. Let your own eyes bear witness, if you will:"

She began to hand him documents, provided to her by another servant.


"The Osmanlis try to blame this war on Akbe Mohammed. Nothing is further from the truth! The war was started by the Knights of St. Rhodes, who attempted to assassinate the Kaliph of Baghdad. By their own admission it was an act of great evil!"

Unto Sultans Akbe Mohammed and Hajji Amhed Hafsid, from Charles Montfort, Treasurer of the Knights of Saint John and acting Grandmaster, greetings and peace......

The war which the former Grandmaster of the Order, Jean de Lastic, fomented with his evil and unchristian act is over, if you so wish it. He has been tried and judged by his peers, and given the choice of death or eternal service. He lacked the courage for the former. If you wish to enquire further with him, he is chained to the oars of the galley which bore this messenger, where he shall remain until his time on this Earth passes.

On behalf of the Order, I express our regret at his stupidity. The Order will withdraw into comtemplation on the Island of Rhodes, so we may determine when and how we went astray. I desire nothing but peace, a peace that lies in your hands. Pray dispense it to us....

"The matter of Morocco is something unfit for discussion. Even the Osmanlis had surrendered the matter. Further they encouraged this war with the Europeans, though they took know part in it!"

Your Highness,

.....I forgave you for the wrongdoing you did to my Moroccan ally, however it would ill befit me to allow you to gain more ground from my allies. Therefore, I must demand that you sign peace with the Mongol Emperor or face repercussions militarily..... For the sake of the Islamic community, do not fall from favor in the Osmanli court. Conclude peace with your brothers and fight the infidels, and I shall aid you in this endeavor. Fail to and the very opposite will occur.

"And while Peace was concluded in time, no aid from the Turks ever came! So this is nothing new which you see, the call for war then the cowardly avoidance of it. The Turks have no desire for peace, they try to take advantage of this situation to promote their own political agenda, at the expense of Islam! How does ceding Tangiers, the jewel of Western Islam serve any justifiable purpose? It does not!

...Indeed, we wish to join you in your holy jihad. However, I do not feel that it is my best interests to send my forces into the Western Mediterranean against the Castilians. I therefore propose an alternative solution. What would you say of me employing one of the fine corsairs in my realm to do harm to the commerce of the Castilian infidels? Long have I neglected this kind of advantage, and I do not intend to do so much longer. ...

They offer their support when convenient, yet never provide it. Yet where is there supposedly principled opposition to this war? They recognize it as Holy.
They have promised corsairs to raid Castillian trade, but never delivered. They have heard the calls for Jihad to avenge the attempt on the life of Kaliph of Baghdad and sat idly by. Now, long after the Kaliph's assassin has been disposed of, and Aragon defeated as well, they try to lay the blame for this conflict upon us?

Caliph, I ask you now. Consider this: did you not already issue the call to Jihad against Castille? Have not most nations heeded this call, save perhaps one of the largest and richest of our brothers? Now they claim to offer solutions for peace, that advantage no one among Dar es Islam but themselves, fulfilling some unexplainable desire to restore Morrocco?

I have report, Caliph, that my own negotiations with the King of Castille show some promise. Yet it is the threat of force and the might of the Timurids which provide us with leverage for negotiation.

The actions of the Osmanlis undermine the prospects for peace, they do not strengthen them. Only you are in the position to judge them, as your predecessor would not.

You Caliph, are correct in that your duties should keep you busy, as do mine.

I regret my brash enterance and offer my pardon. I am Sultana and I am preparing my people for war. I have been named as Akbe Muhamamd's sucessor to the Imperial Throne and I come here to ask your recognition of this claim, a claim that your yourself orders.

May we proceed with our respective duties?"

 

[Voshkod]

The Caliph listened, expressionless, to the rantings of the Algerian woman. He let her wind her way down to the nub of her argument. Then he let his own anger rage.

"Out! All of you out! The Sultana and I will discuss this alone." Her guards and minions shuffled their feet, anxious to leave the tent, until the Sultana dismissed them with a nod.

The Caliph approached the Sultana. For a moment he simply appreciated her smoldering beauty. A remarkable woman, but too rash for her own good. Unmarried. Not good for the Empire.

"The Prophet says that 'men are the maintainers of women because Allah has made some of them to excel others . . . the good women are therefore obedient, guarding the unseen as Allah has guarded. . . .' Men maintain women, and yet you, a woman, wants to maintain an empire?" He scowled at her.

"I am still the Almohad Emperor until I surrender that title." He watched the color rise again in her cheeks - a most attractive trait - and held up a finger. "And I will surrender it. To you. But only with due ceremony." She started to protest. "Shut up!," he shouted. "Think! Step away from your anger and your grief and think!"

"You will be named Almohad Empress. I will crown you myself. This will be done in full daylight, before the people of Algeria and the nobles of the Almohad Empire! Why? Because they will all be thinking the same thing: 'Men are the maintainers of women!' But when you take your crown from the hands of the Caliph, and with my blessings, they will have to choke down those thoughts and obey you.

"The war will go on, woman, even if you take a day to assemble a ceremony. Symbols are important to men. I am a symbol. You will become one. You can choose now - become a symbol of upstart women who deserve chastisement, or rightous successor to the Almohad throne, recognized by the Caliph of all Islam. Decide."

He stepped back again, softened his voice. "I do not want this burden, Yasmine Mohammed, but I will not cast it aside gracelessly. I owe Akbe Mohammed more than that, and so do you. Take up the mantle of power in a proper manner, step forth into your new world with your head held high. And when you are Empress, I will only be Caliph, and I will still be in Algeria. So, if you wish you can take my head for my arrogance."

 

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The Sultana's Response

​

Shamed, the Sultana hung her head.

"Your are wise, Odchigin Sacha, and is to the benefit of Islam that you are Caliph. I am learning in this role that is not what I think as a leader which is as important as that the people think. And I would rather then come to my way of thinking by their own devices, than for them to be blindly let."

She paused for a moment, then lifted her head with her eyes clear.

"But to lead them in such a way that they believe they have arrived their of their own will is the best leadership of all. As you have stated before, time is of the essence. I do not seek to maintain an empire. I must rule the empire because I am made to serve. This is not the lot in life I have selected, but rather this is what life has selected for me.

I submit to your handling of the coronation and praise it as wise and just.

Yet, I beg that once this matter has been attended to that you pray upon the Osmanli situation and render unto me whatever advise you would give. And that you hear the truth in my heart when I call them out as deceivers.

Now then, my Emperor, I would make arrangements to carry out your proposal. Shall I take my leave?"

 

[Voshkod]

"Go, Empress. I'd recommend the ceremony be spartan and solemn, but with powerful dignity. No feasting, no dancing. We are in a war." She rose to leave. From behind her, the Caliph said quietly, "you are on a more difficult road than I, woman. Perhaps, though, you are stronger then me. I will pray for you."

 

[Arilou]

* a speedy messenger arrives from the court of Dulkadir, bearing a letter form the resident alim*

"Greetings oh assembled dignitaries! I must excuse the absence of my master Adem at this time. He is a man of great age, and as such undertaking a long journey is risky. Know though, that if his presence is called for we will do our best to bring the old man to your council. Peace be Upon Us All, Allah be Willing!
-Selim ibn Khalid, secretary of Adem, alim of Dulkadir.

 

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Ulama Council-Chambers of the Caliph

Alim Yazid ha sbeen roaming the corridors of the Caliphal estate.He secluded himself most of the time in the main library, depening himself in a shred of important knowledge.

He approached the Caliph, who just returned from Algeirs " I have an important issue to speak with you, Caliph, and ex-regent of the Almohad throne, a very important issue....I have a claim...."

 

[Voshkod]

"By all that is sacred, my brother, can't a man even unpack first?" Odchigin Sacha shot a weary smile at the Egyptian. "It is good to be back in Jerusalem, away from the madmen - and madwomen - in Algeria. Good not to have the damned crown on my head. Here, let us step out in the garden, have some tea, and talk about your concerns."

As they stepped out the door, the Caliph stopped the Egyptian for a moment. "And please, my friend, don't refer to me as the ex-Emperor of anything. Please. Some things I'd rather forget."

 

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Midnight, Residential Chambers of the Visiting Alims​

-"....sssssh, you'll wake someone."

--"I will make no one, listen to that snoring, it they can sleep thought that, they would sleep through cannon fire!"

- "This is the room. Are we sure this will work?"

--"We will fail only if you can not execute your duty, only if you falter. Our plan is sound, and our exits remain clear."

-"Then, for Allah, we strike!"

Dawn, Residential Chambers of the Visiting Alims​

The servant boy bringing the fruit and water requested by the Alim from Fez, Omar Al-Andaluswalks into the room carrying his burden, hoping that the smelly old man will not be awake and will not want to keep him there with boring stories about people who didn't exist or life in some Golden Age of Cadiz.

We decided he would slip in quickly and quietly, praying that the old Moor was asleep, and if not then that perhaps he back would be turned and he could slip off unseen. Quickly, and running quietly on his tip toes, he darted into the dim chamber, but slipped on something wet and sticky and lost his balance. Dates and fruit went flying as his tray clattered somewhere overhead and his head struck the stone floor, hard.

He saw nothing but stars, but then his blurred vision began to clear. The Alim was starting him in the eyes, but there was something strange.

His vision became more clear and he realized that the Alim, did not blink, nor move, nor breathe. Then the boy realized that he was still on the floor, meaning the Alim, too must be lying on the floor....and why we he all wet?

....

"Murder! Murder! Help me! Help me! Allah have mercy! There has been murder!"

The boy, covered in the cold blood of the murdered Alim from Fez ran through the halls seeking anyone he could find.

 

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Caliphal Gardens

"The Almohad throne does not strike your fancy?" the Egyptian joked as they descended from the stairs of the Main Hall.They quickly dispersed into the garden.

Outside, among the natural euphoras of allah, the Dellilis were blossoming.The lovely breeze of Tiberalde was refreshing from the continous scorhing deserts of Akaba.The servents approached both Alims, who were seated in the porch overlaying the small pond, carrying refreshments and dates.

"Forgive me brother, but the situation at hand is very....worrying if you must know"Yazid said while sipping his Green tea gracefully."I come to you, to speak of a claim, a very important one...the Caliph title, and position...."He dully darted his eyes around , as if the whole issue was a mere simple chat.

"The Abbasids have a valid, claim on the issue.Simple as that, they have wrested it from the Ummayed House with all right, and considering that NO house ever transcripted the title from a living Abbasid...we return to the solid truth, that they have a massive claim on the title, surely we cant just throw away the fact that they ruled the muslim world for over 5 centuries."

He smiled "Allah be praised, we are not greedy my brother, dont look at me that way, I simply repeat the voids of truth, it is time the true masters of islam return, this is very distorted.I never recall "elections" being used in Dar El-Islam except in the time of the prophet...but houses have always ruled.We must do something to solve the problem..."

"I have been going through the old records, where nothing speaks of the title being transfered legally from the house to...to anyone.Considering that hot blooded members of the family are still alive, the whole Caliph consolidation is....invalid.Do the Timurids have it?no,the Ottomans?No, there but Turkish barbarians,the Almohads?would we really want heretics ruling Islam?I doub it.None of the main houses ever took it from Bani-Abbas.My brother do you see where I come from?I am simple repeating facts, the elections and the Caliphate which we have now, is invalid.Also, is it really in the benefit of islam, to have a Caliph with different ideas and opinions, and even policies than that which proceded him?or to have a no Caliph in times of need, when we are doing one of those "fancy"elections?just remember the last election, we were there to speak of the Sunhia heresy, where the Caliph DIED.The blood of Harun Ar-Rashid has every right to the title, it was them who purged the muslims of the oppressive Ummayeds, it was them who protected islam, it was them who expanded islam to the east, and may I speak of an immediate action?crushing the shiites in Egypt, and Arabia.I ask you my brother, is this a valid claim or not?"*



*The Abbasid claim on the title is too strong to deny.In Mameluck Egypt, before the arrival of the Turks, the Abbasids were called Caliphs, the surviving line that is.It was not until Selim the Grim took Egypt that the title was transfered, willingly, to the Osmanli house.Now, with Egypt under their control, the claim is too hard to deny.I also wish to establish the Caliphate after taking the title OR capturing Iraq.It has become essential for us to solve it, dont you think V?also I am very well established under Islamic law.

 

[Voshkod]

The Caliph listened to the Egyptian calmly, sipping his tea all the while.

"So, you expect me to surrender the Caliphate with the same ease with which I dropped the Almohad crown? Your argument is interesting, perhaps even compelling. I will call the Alims together, you may try to convince them. If they agree, I will gladly surrender this Caliphate." The Mongol chuckled. "Or, of course, you could just have me killed."

Suddenly, from the sleeping area, a hue and cry erupted.

"Murder! Murder! Help me! Help me! Allah have mercy! There has been murder!"

The Caliph rose and ran over to the scene. He walked into Omar al-Andalus' room and was greeted by the horror within.

"Murder most foul," he muttered under his breath, looking at the cold pool of sticky crimson. "Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him"

He turned to the captain of the Caliphate guards. "Omar al-Andalus has been stabbed. Round up the usual suspects."

 

[Arilou]

*the Dulkadiri emmissary, is brought in, hands chained to his back*
"This is an outrage! I am here as a messenger of our dear old alim, who himself was too weak to make the journey, and yet I am treated as a criminal!


... Who's dead anyway?"

 

[Voshkod]

"This is one of the usual suspects?" The Caliph looked at the Captain of the Guard in obvious annoyance. "Free him, and send for some tea."

After the chains have been removed, the Caliph invites the Dulkadiri emissary to take a seat. "Forgive our lack of hopitality, my friend, but the veneble Alim of Fez has been murdered in his bed. We are being cautious. So, what news of Dulkadir?"

 

[Arilou]

"Not much..." *the Emissary gladly accepted the offered cup of tea* "The court is an hornet's nest of intrigue, the Emir's sons are all ready to fly at each other's throats the moment the old man finally recieves Allah's judgement, the emir himself seems to be doing his damndest to be making sure the judgement is a negative one, the emir's daughter is still unmarried and one of his younger sons has disappeared completely!" *the emissary shifts position on his chair* "I must apologize for the fact that our own alim is not here Oh Lord of the Faithful, he is an old man and his gout worsened a few months ago, hopefully he will live many more years (Allah be willing) but as of now he is unable to travel..."
*The Emissary sips the last sip of tea*
"Alas! God be merciful on the soul of the poor alim of Fez! Who could comitted such a Monstrous Deed!?"

 

[Voshkod]

"Who indeed?," mused the Caliph as he nibbled a cake. "We will find out, if we can, but the assassins have probably fled already. Sad. A man that old deserves to die in peace. So, tell me, how will Dulkadir survive against the cowards in Angora?"

 

[Arilou]

*the Emmissary smiles to himself* "By the Grace of Allah, what else? I can see no other reason, perhaps because we are too small and insignifcant to conquer? Perhaps because we offer the turkish merchants a quiet place to trade with the egyptians? Perhaps simply because the Sultan hasn't deigned to interfere yet... Only Allah knows the answer....

There are rumours of war in the East I hear? Though of course we are small and weak and have nothing we could possibly offer the great Caliph, that of course we will stand ready should the call to arms come our way."

 

[Voshkod]

The Caliph rises. "There is much I must attend to. The servants will find you proper quarters." With that, he took his leave of the envoy from Dulkadir and sequestered himself in his study, with orders not to be disturbed.

And in the morning he was gone. He had taken a few things to travel with and left all the rest. The smell of the dragon's breath in the room was the only sign that Odchigin Sacha, a Mongol from the border of the Middle Kingdom, had for a brief time been the Caliph of all Islam - the smell, and a small piece of parchment, on which he had written a fragment of a poem in his swooping hand:

See the traveler on his way.
Ah, if Heaven had a feeling heart, it, too, must grow old!
He bears the burden off alone
By the light of the desolate moon,
The town far behind him, muted its lapping waves.

- Li He