Silently, gracefully, the bird soared, a black silhouette crossing a clear blue sky under a golden sun. It was probably just a buzzard, waiting for some hapless desert traveler to take his final breath—but its wings were too long and tapered… Could it be an eagle? It was said eagles could stare into the sun without blinking, but how could anyone possibly know such a thing? It was preposterous, yet so wonderful that if it were not true, it should be…Perhaps it was one of the great sea birds, who could ride the currents of the air for days—but what was it doing here in the middle of the desert? Was it curious about what was going on so far below it…?Suddenly the bird seemed to fly into the sun. Abu stared after it until the glare forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. He laughed——and the general standing before him timidly asked if he had said something to amuse him. The general waited for an answer——as did M’baye, the herald, standing behind the general——and the princes of the court, sitting behind M’baye——and the three hundred soldiers standing guard behind the princes——and behind the soldiers, scattered throughout the courtyard, the servants and magicians and musicians and dancers, the sentries at the gate, the tenders of the goats—even the goats themselves, it seemed: a thousand eyes stared at Mansa Abubakari II, Ninth Sultan of Mali.He had no idea why.Only two among all those gathered in the courtyard did not stare at Abu. One was Simballa, his personal guard, who watched the assembly for any hint of menace. The other was Kouyaté, his jeli, who, from all appearances, seemed to be concerned with matters elsewhere. (Nonetheless, Abu was certain he detected a nascent smirk on the jeli’s face.)Abu gestured impatiently and the general resumed his recitation. The general and his soldiers were engaged in the siege of Djenne—actually, another siege of Djenne. It was said Djenne was the twin of Timbuktu, a center of learning filled with beautiful buildings, prosperous merchants, wise scholars, skilled physicians and talented artisans. No one from Mali could say for sure because no one from Mali had ever set foot inside the city: locked behind impenetrable gates and surrounded by treacherous, vermin–infested swamps, not even the great Sundiata had been able to capture Djenne.The general spoke in great detail about tactics and strategies, how valiantly his men had fought and how bravely they had died——and Abu noticed an ant who had wandered onto the pempi, the raised platform upon which the throne of Mali sat. The ant scurried about, first this way then that, as if it were in a hurry to get someplace but had no idea where that place might be. Abu thought: How like the ants seem to us must we seem to the birds. For just like the ants, did not people scurry about looking for some delectable morsel (for instance, Djenne) and having found it, like the ants, did they not launch a massive effort to obtain it (for instance, the general’s campaigns). If successful, did the ants not carry their spoils back to their anthill piece by piece just as soldiers plundered the cities they conquered? Then while the ants rejoice, a mischievous child with a stick comes along and scatters their anthill to the winds—The ant suddenly disappeared, crushed between the powerful fingers of Edu, one of the princes of the court. (Like the other princes, Edu was as much a hostage as he was a guest, in accordance with a custom begun by Sundiata. The princes’ presence insured that the dozen self governing kingdoms comprising the empire of Mali remained loyal to the sultan. Should any of the kingdoms revolt, its prince would be among the first to die.) Edu bared his teeth in an expression that could only with extreme charity be considered a smile. Abu thought: No doubt Edu wishes I were that ant. Abu wished that he were a bird, so that he might visit upon Edu’s head the indignity birds sometimes visited upon the earthbound. The thought made him laugh and his laughter was interpreted as a dismissal of Edu’s gesture. Sulking, Edu returned to his place among the princes, and Simballa (who to the casual eye seemed not to have noticed what had taken place) relaxed. Throughout all this the general faltered but continued talking.Abu searched the sky for the bird but it was gone, no doubt bored by what transpired below its flight. Abu was bored as well. He interrupted the general, told him he had done a splendid job and instructed M’baye to give him whatever he needed to conquer this accursed city. He was about to dismiss the court when M’baye reminded him that today he was to settle various disputes his citizens had with one another, gently adding that should he again postpone this duty the roster of petitioners would only grow. Quite annoyed, Abu ordered all with such business brought before him. He told those with grievances to form a line to his left and those they accused to form a line to his right, facing them. Anyone there to lend support or to bear witness for either party was sent away as these matters did not concern them.He then told the disputants to go to some quiet place and settle their differences in a manner that was mutually satisfactory immediately. Failure to do so would be considered disobeying a direct order from the sultan and the punishment for such disobedience, as everyone knew, was death. Abu asked if there were questions and there were none—at least none that anyone voiced. He clapped his hands three times, the traditional sign of dismissal, and the court was adjourned. He walked rapidly back to the palace, leaving five hundred people scrambling to follow him.
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