Abu-Giafar Moslem, a _sherif_, or
descendant of the Prophet's family, waited upon Gawhar near Alexandria,
and demanded a capitulation. The general consented without reserve, and
in a conciliatory letter granted all they asked. But they had reckoned
without their host; the troops at Fustat would not listen to such
humiliation, and there was a strong war party among the citizens, to
which some of the ministers leaned. The city prepared for resistance,
and skirmishes took place with Gawhar's army, which had meanwhile
arrived at the opposite town of Giza in July. Forcing the passage of the
river, with the help of some boats supplied by Egyptian soldiers, the
invaders fell upon the imposing army drawn up on the other bank, and
totally defeated them. The troops deserted Fustat in a panic, and the
women of the city, running out of their houses, implored the sherif to
intercede with the conqueror.

Gawhar, like his master, always disposed to a politic leniency, renewed
his former promises, and granted a complete amnesty to all who
submitted. The overjoyed populace cut off the heads of some of the
refractory leaders, in their enthusiasm, and sent them to the camp in
pleasing token of allegiance. A herald, bearing a white flag, rode
through the streets of Fustat proclaiming the amnesty and forbidding
pillage, and on August the 5th the Fatimite army, with full pomp of
drums and banners, entered the capital.

That very night Gawhar laid the foundations of a new city, or rather
fortified palace, destined for the reception of his sovereign. He was
encamped on the sandy waste which stretched northeast of Fustat on the
road to Heliopolis, and there, at a distance of about a mile from the
river, he marked out the boundaries of the new capital. There were no
buildings, save the old "Convent of the Bones," nor any cultivation
except the beautiful park called "Kafur's Garden," to obstruct his
plans. A square, somewhat less than a mile each way, was pegged out with
poles, and the Maghrabi astrologers, in whom Moizz reposed extravagant
faith, consulted together to determine the auspicious moment for the
opening ceremony. Bells were hung on ropes from pole to pole, and at the
signal of the sages their ringing was to announce the precise moment
when the laborers were to turn the first sod. The calculations of the
astrologers were, however, anticipated by a raven, who perched on one of
the ropes and set the bells jingling, upon which every mat