MANY world rulers made statues to immortalize their existence and history. Several other rulers built monuments in the center of the crowd so that anyone could see them and remember the ruler concerned. The rest, immortality in this mortal world is manifested in the form of books, either written by yourself or by asking for help from other writers, a very limited number of which are written.
That last option was what Sultanah Nahrisyah was thinking about in her hot seat of leadership. He didn't want to discuss this issue with anyone because it would give rise to a long debate that would benefit no one. He would not choose to make a statue because the ulama opposed it. A number of scholars believe that on the Day of Judgment the statues will ask the sculptor for his soul. "And let us not imitate the way of life of those who disbelieve who are angry with Allah. Whoever resembles a people, then he becomes part of that people."
Sultanah Nahrisyah seemed to be able to hear the sentences delivered by the palace ulama. She agreed for some reasons, but doubted others, as it sounded exaggerated, like a statue asking its creator for a soul. If a statue could make such a request, it would certainly already possess a soul.
The Sultanah had already secured a writer thanks to King Nakur, whom she now regretted having sought the Moorish nobleman's assistance. He was a young man, still under 40, but already displayed the maturity of a detailed observer. His polite manner and the look in his eyes conveyed an extraordinary intelligence and zest for life, reflected in every word that came from his mouth and the tone of his voice.
Every word seemed to have been carefully filtered to achieve its precise position. At their first meeting, Sultanah Nahrisyah immediately concluded that someone who thought intelligently and spoke intelligently was certainly capable of writing intelligently as well, although this was not always the case.
Yes, Sultanah Nahrisyah was indeed thinking of the writer, not King Nakur, who was increasingly revealing his true colors. Who knows where or how King Nakur had managed to find a writer who seemed so incompatible with him in every way. The chronicler only mentioned Jeumpa as his birthplace, and Samalanga as the place where his father was buried. Perhaps by mentioning these two areas, he wanted to emphasize that he was still within the Samudra Pasai Kingdom and therefore worthy of trust.
With King Nakur as his entry point and the nobleman's increasingly open defiance, Sultanah Nahrisyah felt that trust would be severely tested. He was not growing as quickly as the chronicler had hoped.
The Sultanah was not blaming King Nakur's mistakes on the chronicler, but was being more cautious in the current political climate. It was difficult to determine friend from foe in such circumstances. King Nakur, once considered his most important supporter, had now proven to be a clear opponent. Several influential court scholars were now swayed by the barbs of praise he sprinkled, masked by smiles and politeness, and by a few verses he had memorized hundreds of times in his dark chamber.
How could these scholars fail to grasp the vibrations of every verse that escaped King Nakur's dark lips? They should be able to distinguish verses born from a pure heart from those driven by greed. The Sultanah was certain they had been influenced by King Nakur's attitude, who often faced the Qibla with every word he spoke, except when he had to turn his back on those he respected.
In this latter situation, King Nakur preferred to turn his back on the Kaaba, which was far from where he stood, rather than turn his back on the extended royal family.
"Why did I do this? Because the people around the Kaaba wouldn't be poisoned by my farts, while the people in the Pasai palace smelled the aroma as soon as the sound was heard."