Episode 167

The imams of Islam, usually held in high esteem, were having one of the worst days of their lives.

It was bad enough that Baghdad had fallen and the caliph met a tragic end, but now the sultan seemed to have lost his mind, reading a prophecy thrown at him by a Christian charlatan.

If he wanted to do something crazy, he should have done it alone. Dragging all these respected figures into it was a disaster beyond words.

What would happen if people’s faith started to waver because of this? How would they take responsibility?

At first, they thought Saladin had simply lost his mind due to old age and grief over his son’s tragic death. Their plan was to declare the sultan senile and pressure him to transfer power to his eldest son.

But then…

“Hey, doesn’t this seem a bit off to you?”

“What do you mean, off?”

“That prophecy… if it wasn’t truly divine, how could it be so accurate?”

“What nonsense are you spouting? It’s obviously a fabrication!”

“Fabrication?”

If not, how else could some infidel make such a prophecy? Even the Prophet Muhammad never showed such perfect foresight.

This couldn’t happen. No, it mustn’t happen. Even if it were true, they had to make it untrue.

If Marshall were acknowledged, what would that mean for the truths they had believed in all their lives?

”…The sultan must be in cahoots with those Christians. That’s why the prophecy fits so perfectly. It’s not a prophecy; it’s a recently written document.”

“But there are witnesses among the amirs here.”

“Then they’re all accomplices!”

“Those who claim Marshall is a prophet…”

“It’s all a staged play, isn’t it?”

It was an absurd claim, but they had no choice but to insist on it. If it wasn’t a fabrication, let them prove it.

‘I didn’t come this far to let our position be shaken.’

Qasim, a renowned imam from Aleppo, was determined to bring Marshall down, no matter what. He had worked too hard to reach this respected position, and acknowledging that man would jeopardize everything.

Though he had secretly siphoned funds meant for mosque expansion, he had restrained his desires relatively well. He hadn’t squandered the money but saved it, planning to use half for charity, reasoning that it was better than letting it be wasted by others.

While he was busy justifying himself, a group of madmen emerged, claiming they could prove Marshall was genuine.

Initially dismissed as nonsense, these individuals, who had caused a commotion earlier, were now brought forward by the sultan’s command.

In the chaos, Qasim recognized them. They were the same people who had acknowledged Marshall at a previous council and were branded as apostates.

Most of them had been respected imams, and why they chose to abandon everything and fall from grace remained a mystery.

Many had asked, but they had remained silent. Now, suddenly, they wanted to confess.

“Wait! These are the traitors who betrayed Islam at the council. Giving them a chance to explain…”

“It’s not a chance to explain; it’s a chance to clarify. Many are curious why they suddenly changed their minds.”

“His Majesty is right. Honestly, I’m curious why they went mad. Shouldn’t we hear them out?”

Despite a gut feeling that they shouldn’t be allowed to speak, the sultan’s decision left them with no choice.

Under the curious gaze of the audience, the apostates stepped forward, looking around with serious eyes before speaking.

“First, we thank the sultan for giving us this opportunity to speak. As you know, we acknowledged at the Jerusalem council that the Christian Marshall is indeed a prophet sent by God, and we nearly paid with our lives for it. But we are neither traitors nor mad.”

“Then you must have been bribed!”

“We heard that a lot at first, but by now, you should know that’s not the case. Since the council, has any of us done anything worthy of public scorn? If we had, we wouldn’t be standing here.”

”…”

Reluctantly, they had to admit it was true. Saladin had promised them protection, meaning they could still be punished for other crimes.

Angry believers had watched them closely, but the apostates had led strangely devout lives, beyond merely avoiding trouble.

Despite the scorn and criticism, they had given away their wealth to the poor, served the needy, and remained devoted to prayer and worship.

If they had been bribed, their actions made no sense.

Even Saladin, unable to contain his curiosity, asked directly.

“Then why did you acknowledge Marshall at the council?”

“It’s simple. He knew all our sins. He reminded us that God is always watching.”

”…He knew your sins? You mean he enlightened you?”

“No, I mean it literally. The apostle saw into our hearts and made us painfully aware that God is always watching.”

It sounded like a simple con. They must have investigated the council attendees and found their weaknesses.

How a man in Europe could have done such thorough background checks was a mystery, but not impossible.

To pull off a global scam, you’d need some serious skills.

But the confessions that followed were beyond anything Qasim or the other imams could have imagined.

“Many of you might think we were just blackmailed. But it wasn’t like that. The sins the apostle spoke of were secrets we had never shared with anyone, things no investigation could uncover.”

This wasn’t good. If they kept talking, people would start to waver.

Qasim wasn’t the only one who thought so. An imam sitting next to him stood up and shouted.

“Words are cheap! Without evidence, it’s all nonsense! If you want us to believe…”

“You want proof, is that it?”

Marshall, who had been silent until now, spoke up, and the room fell silent.

“Sir, you don’t mean to…?”

“If you want proof, I’ll provide it. Your Majesty, may I take some time here?”

”…Very well. If you’re truly willing…”

Even Saladin seemed surprised, and the imams felt a moment of unease.

Could this really not be a staged play? If so… how could such an impossible thing be true?

Before they could gather their thoughts, Marshall stepped forward and addressed the imam who had shouted.

“You seem quite brave. Do you believe I’m lying, or do you think you’re without sin?”

“Of course, it’s both…”

“Is that so? So, in your view, not observing Ramadan isn’t a sin? I don’t mind, but your followers might feel betrayed.”

”…W-what are you… No! You’re just spouting nonsense to deceive us!”

Though he protested vehemently, Qasim and those around him noticed the brief flicker of panic.

Ramadan is a sacred month when Muslims must fast from dawn till sunset. It’s a fundamental duty, and for an imam, a role model, to neglect it was unthinkable.

His anger was understandable, but what was that moment of panic?

Marshall, ignoring the protests, turned to Al-Adil.

“Does anyone here have a residence nearby?”

“Well, if my words are to be credible, they need to be verified immediately. Without evidence, anyone can just deny it like we saw earlier.”

“Wh-who’s denying anything?”

“That will soon be revealed. Let’s see…”

After hearing the story from Al Adil, Marshal cast a nonchalant glance over the people gathered, focusing on those residing in the capital.

His gaze paused momentarily before he casually remarked, as if he were merely commenting on the weather, “People in the capital are certainly diverse. Some, like that gentleman over there, even hide their bribes in their basement.”

“W-what…!”

The person Marshal pointed to was the head of the western gate guards of Damascus. It was a position where bribes were plausible, but the claim of hiding them in his basement was both specific and easily verifiable.

Saladin, observing the exchange with a skeptical eye, sighed lightly and said, “Given the circumstances, we should verify this claim. If it turns out to be false, Marshal will be held accountable for slander.”

“Of course.”

“Y-your Majesty! Are you really going to believe this fraud? I’m innocent!”

“If you’re innocent, then you should welcome the investigation. Don’t worry. We’ll only check the basement, and if Marshal’s claim is false, there will be no further inquiry.”

“Your Majesty! But, um… well…”

Unless he had something to hide, his resistance seemed unnatural. As Saladin suggested, if he were proven innocent, he might even expect a reward.

“Let’s wait here for a moment. I’ve sent someone to check, so it shouldn’t take long.”

Such a baseless accusation couldn’t possibly be true. Yet, the guard captain’s face had turned ashen, and he was trembling all over.

And, as expected…

“Your Majesty! We found it! There’s a hidden space in the basement filled with a massive amount of dinars.”

The messenger’s breathless report plunged the room into a stunned silence.

“So, Marshal was telling the truth?”

“No, no, no! Your Majesty! It’s not a bribe. It’s… it’s my savings. I stored it in the basement instead of a warehouse.”

“Oh, really? I wasn’t aware your salary was so substantial that you needed a special basement space for your dinars. You seem to have a lot to explain, so I’ll give you the chance to do so in front of the investigators. Take him away.”

“I’m innocent! I’m innocent, Your Majesty!”

Despite his protests, no one believed the guard captain was innocent. Who would believe a mountain of gold coins was just savings?

At the same time, a creeping fear of Marshal’s accuracy began to spread among those present.

“So, does this mean the rumor about Abdul not observing Ramadan is true too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s a setup!”

“But he was right about the bribe…”

“That was just a lucky guess! I’m not guilty!”

To see a person’s sins just by looking at them—while it seemed like an incredible ability, it was also terrifying. How many people live without sinning, even in small ways?

If Marshal truly possessed such a power, no one could stand before him without fear.

Even as others continued to deny Marshal’s abilities, he demonstrated them without restraint. He even exposed a respected imam who had been fraudulently leading prayers without reading the Quran.

Yet, accepting him as a prophet would have profound implications for the Islamic world. How would the caliphs, the imams, and the faithful explain this?

“It can’t be! God wouldn’t choose a Christian as a prophet!”

“From your perspective, I might seem like an infidel, but does that really matter?”

“Of course it does… If God truly sent another prophet, He would have chosen one of us Muslims…”

Marshal approached Qasim, who was still in denial, and delivered the final blow.

“Would God see it that way? Embezzling donations meant for mosque expansion…”

“S-stop! Stop! Stop!”

The fear of having his hidden sins exposed was overwhelming. Qasim, finally defeated, collapsed into his seat, looking around at his fellow imams, who were equally stunned.

Fear gripped them all. Not even facing the Sultan had instilled such primal terror. It coiled around them like a snake, making them tremble.

Marshal scanned the room, but no one dared meet his gaze, as if afraid their own sins would be laid bare.

No grand speeches or flowery words were needed. This scene alone was the greatest testament that everyone present, and Islam itself, had accepted Marshal.

Years later, Saladin would reflect on this moment in his memoirs:

-True faith is something that cannot be explained with words.