Emissary (Book 1)

Beginnings

My name is Yehya Ibn (son of) Sharif al-Hamadani and I was born in the city of Cairo the capital of the Fatimid Caliphate in Egypt. I had always been called John which is the Latin abbreviation of my name even among my Arab friends. I was born in the year 447 of the Muslim Hijra calendar or 1055 of the Christian Era. It was the year the Seljuk Turks invaded Baghdad. The Seljuks had always been the archival of the Fatimids and the fall of Baghdad was just another step into their continued expansion in the region. According to an astrologers who read my natal chart the fact that I was born in that year is a bad omen. I believe he was right.

I have been told I was a descendant from a long line of Emirs who ruled Aleppo many years ago. I don't know if this was true or not. I have not known my father for he died just before I was born. However my mother, may God rest her soul, told me about him. She said that he was prince Sharif Ibn Said Ibn Saed the grandson of prince Ali al-Hamadani the Emir of Aleppo. Prince Ali was famously known as Sayf al-Dawla (the sword of the state). Most of those names have now been forgotten and I am not a man who dwells on the past nor on the deeds of his ancestors. I have made my own fortune and will continue to make my own future until I am long dead and buried and no one remembers my name.

I most certainly do not considered myself a prince although I have used the title to my advantage in many occasions whenever the situation deemed it necessary. Ever since I was a young boy I had always been a Mamluk or a slave. I am still a slave even to this day. It is ironic because it was my mother who gave me up as a slave when I was ten years old. It was not really her fault. I do not blame her for our misfortune. She thought that she was sending me into a better world. A world without hunger or fear. At that time Egypt was engulfed by a terrible famine that nearly wiped out half of its population from the Nile delta to the Nubian plains. The famine was followed by a terrible plague which killed most of my family and neighbors including my mother who gave me up to be a Mamluk. I pray for her every time I perform my five daily rituals. I pray that God blesses her soul so that she can concede on my behalf on the day of judgment. I certainly need every help I can get to atone for the many sins I have committed; sins of the soul as well as sins of the flesh and how plenty those have been.

My mother was herself a concubine. She was a slave who was given as a gift to my father a few years before as I was born. She was originally a young Greek girl captured in one of many skirmishes between the Byzantine and the Fatimid army in the lower Anatolian mountains. That is why I am of white skin with blue eyes and golden hair. This was another reason I was picked by my master for the tasks which I would eventually do for the Caliphate.

After my father died my mother thought of leaving Egypt and go back to her hometown. Unfortunately for her she stayed in Cairo. Having no one to return to after knowing that all her family were long dead. However in order to remind herself of her heritage she tried to speak to me in her native tongue. Therefore as a young boy, I was fluent in two languages, Arabic and Greek. My mother also tried to teach me how to read and write what little Latin she knew but it wasn't much. Eventually I learned Latin. I also learned French and German in addition to Arabic and Greek.

The years of my childhood with my mother were very difficult. I remember that we were always hungry and scared. The famine which had devastated the country was one of the worst in its history. People were killed right on the streets just for a small loaf of bread. Riots spread, people sold their souls as well as their bodies. I remember how soldiers used to come into the homes of our neighbors and they didn't leave until the next day. I also remember the cries of the women which echoed all night. Some were cries of fear but many were also cries of lust. I was a little boy then and could not distinguish between the two but every night my mother used to lock the door to our small room and hold me tight until I slept.