"Our virtues disappear when put in competition with our interests, as rivers lose themselves in the ocean."—La Rochefoucauld.
"Our virtues disappear when put in competition with our interests, as rivers lose themselves in the ocean."—La Rochefoucauld.
Thirteen years had now passed since Mohammed first began to meditate in the Cave of Hira. During all that time he had preached peace, love and gentleness. With power, however, came a change in his opinions. He became not only pastor of his flock, and judge of the people, but also commander of an army. Worldly ambition took possession of his breast, and the voice of him who had cried, "Follow the religion of Abraham, who was orthodox and was no idolater. Invite men unto the way of the Lord by wisdom and mild exhortation.... Bear opposition with patience, but thy patience shall not be practicable unless with God's assistance. And be not thou grieved on account of the unbelievers. Let there be no violence in religion,"—now began to call, "War is enjoined you against the infidels. Fight therefore against the friends of Satan, for the stratagem of Satan is weak. And when the months wherein ye shall not be allowed to attack them be past, kill the idolaters wherever ye shall find them, and besiege them, and lay wait for them in every convenient place. Verily God hath purchased of the true believers their souls and their substance, promising them the enjoyment of Paradise on condition that they fight for the cause of God. Whether theyslay or be slain, the promise for the same is assuredly due by the law, and the Gospel, and the Koran."
Clemency, he claimed, had been the instrument of Moses; wisdom, that of Solomon; righteousness, that of Christ; and now the sword was to be the instrument of Mohammed.
"The sword," he exclaimed, with flashing eye, "is the key of heaven and hell. All who draw it in the cause of the faith will be rewarded with temporal advantages; every drop shed of their blood, every peril endured by them, will be registered on high as more meritorious than fasting or prayer. If they fall in battle, their sins will at once be blotted out, and they will be transported to paradise!"
This fierce, intolerant spirit took possession of Mohammed almost from his entrance into Medina. Chapter after chapter of the Koran was produced, breathing the same blood-thirsty, implacable hatred of opposition. Mohammed, in fact, seemed like one possessed in his enthusiasm, but his doctrines caught the fancy of the wild, impressionable Arabs, who flocked to him in crowds as his fame spread throughout the length and breadth of El Hejaz, throughout the Nejd, and even to the extremities of Arabia-Felix.
And now the bloody cloud of war hovered over the peninsula, and the people trembled.
The following letter from Amzi will describe the outbreak.
A[9]
From Amzi the Meccan, at Medina,To Yusuf the priest, Mecca.
My Dear Yusuf:—I can scarcely describe the emotions with which I write you again after a six months' interval. Affairs here in Medina have taken such an unlooked-for turn that I scarcely know what to think or what to do.Of Mohammed's wonderful progress, you have, of course, heard. You should see him now, my dear Yusuf,—Mohammed, the peaceful trader, the devout hermit, now little less than monarch, with all the sway assumed by the most powerful despot; and yet those over whom he wields his despotism are but too willing servants, ready to say as he says, and to give their dearest heart's blood in his cause.Indeed I know not what the outcome of it all will be. What astonishes me most is that Mohammed has suddenly assumed an aggressive attitude. Fire and the sword seem to be the watchword of him whom we knew as the gentle husband of Cadijah, the mild preacher who bowed his head and reviled not even when assailed with mud and filth in the Caaba.Needless to say, Yusuf, I am disappointed in him. You will be only too glad to hear that. I hear that you have been exhorting the people in Mecca to pay no heed to him; that you have been seeking to promulgate your Hebrew faith, or rather the faith of your Hebrew friend, of whose innocence and release I was glad to hear.My brother, I pride in your courage, and in the strength of your principles; yet, Yusuf, I beseech of you, be careful what you do or say, lest you draw down upon your head a storm of fury which you little expect. You have no idea of the revolution of feeling here in Mohammed's favor, and of the fanatic zeal of many of his followers. Be not too bold. You cannot cope single-handed with such an overwhelming tide.The past month, as you know, was the holy month Radjab, in which, as in the month of Ramadhan, throughout all El Hejaz, life should be held sacred, and no act of violence committed. Can you believe it when I tell you that the prophet's men have attacked more than one caravan of quiet traders and pilgrims upon their way to or from Mecca? Such a sacrilege seems unpardonable in Arab eyes, but, forsooth, the prophet has been favored with another revelation justifying him in what he has done.This, more than aught else, makes me wonder. You, Yusuf, know what a lover of peace I have been; how it has ever grieved me to see even a butterfly fluttering along the ground with a crushed wing. Judge, then, of my horror, when I went out to the scene of the pillage and saw men lying, some dead, with ghastly faces glaring up at the hot sun, others with gaping wounds, and others moaning pitifully on the road-way, with sand on their faces and in their hair. Yusuf, it made me sick to see it. Had they been slain in fair battle I could have borne it better. Yet I was enabled to give the poor wounded creatures some water, all warm as it was from being carried so long a distance; and some of them I had conveyed to my house,so that every bed-chamber has been turned into a sick-room, and your friend Amzi has been suddenly metamorphosed into a sick-nurse. Does that astonish you?Yet, Yusuf, though I get little sleep any night, and have to be on my feet much during the day, I can assure you that I was never so happy in my life before. The constant occupation, and the sense of being able to render the poor creatures a little ease, is just what I need at present to keep me from growing moody.The other day I saw some one who knows of you—Uzza, the Oman Arab. How or why he has come here I know not; but he is one of Mohammed's most devoted followers. For your sake, I hope you may not meet him in Medina.I knew him, years ago, at Oman, and had letters from him for a time after he went to Persia. Perhaps that will read you the riddle as to how I knew so much of your past history, my priest. Recognizing your name, and noting your priestly bearing, it was an easy matter to connect you with the Guebre Yusuf, of whom I had heard.I am convinced that you are looking after my Meccan affairs as closely as possible, yet remember that Amzi has a house in Medina, too, which has ever a door open for you.Dumah sends his love. The poor lad is greatly excited over the stirring events which are the talk of the town here.Commend me to your friend Nathan and his family. Trusting to see or to hear from you soon,
My Dear Yusuf:—
I can scarcely describe the emotions with which I write you again after a six months' interval. Affairs here in Medina have taken such an unlooked-for turn that I scarcely know what to think or what to do.
Of Mohammed's wonderful progress, you have, of course, heard. You should see him now, my dear Yusuf,—Mohammed, the peaceful trader, the devout hermit, now little less than monarch, with all the sway assumed by the most powerful despot; and yet those over whom he wields his despotism are but too willing servants, ready to say as he says, and to give their dearest heart's blood in his cause.
Indeed I know not what the outcome of it all will be. What astonishes me most is that Mohammed has suddenly assumed an aggressive attitude. Fire and the sword seem to be the watchword of him whom we knew as the gentle husband of Cadijah, the mild preacher who bowed his head and reviled not even when assailed with mud and filth in the Caaba.
Needless to say, Yusuf, I am disappointed in him. You will be only too glad to hear that. I hear that you have been exhorting the people in Mecca to pay no heed to him; that you have been seeking to promulgate your Hebrew faith, or rather the faith of your Hebrew friend, of whose innocence and release I was glad to hear.
My brother, I pride in your courage, and in the strength of your principles; yet, Yusuf, I beseech of you, be careful what you do or say, lest you draw down upon your head a storm of fury which you little expect. You have no idea of the revolution of feeling here in Mohammed's favor, and of the fanatic zeal of many of his followers. Be not too bold. You cannot cope single-handed with such an overwhelming tide.
The past month, as you know, was the holy month Radjab, in which, as in the month of Ramadhan, throughout all El Hejaz, life should be held sacred, and no act of violence committed. Can you believe it when I tell you that the prophet's men have attacked more than one caravan of quiet traders and pilgrims upon their way to or from Mecca? Such a sacrilege seems unpardonable in Arab eyes, but, forsooth, the prophet has been favored with another revelation justifying him in what he has done.
This, more than aught else, makes me wonder. You, Yusuf, know what a lover of peace I have been; how it has ever grieved me to see even a butterfly fluttering along the ground with a crushed wing. Judge, then, of my horror, when I went out to the scene of the pillage and saw men lying, some dead, with ghastly faces glaring up at the hot sun, others with gaping wounds, and others moaning pitifully on the road-way, with sand on their faces and in their hair. Yusuf, it made me sick to see it. Had they been slain in fair battle I could have borne it better. Yet I was enabled to give the poor wounded creatures some water, all warm as it was from being carried so long a distance; and some of them I had conveyed to my house,so that every bed-chamber has been turned into a sick-room, and your friend Amzi has been suddenly metamorphosed into a sick-nurse. Does that astonish you?
Yet, Yusuf, though I get little sleep any night, and have to be on my feet much during the day, I can assure you that I was never so happy in my life before. The constant occupation, and the sense of being able to render the poor creatures a little ease, is just what I need at present to keep me from growing moody.
The other day I saw some one who knows of you—Uzza, the Oman Arab. How or why he has come here I know not; but he is one of Mohammed's most devoted followers. For your sake, I hope you may not meet him in Medina.
I knew him, years ago, at Oman, and had letters from him for a time after he went to Persia. Perhaps that will read you the riddle as to how I knew so much of your past history, my priest. Recognizing your name, and noting your priestly bearing, it was an easy matter to connect you with the Guebre Yusuf, of whom I had heard.
I am convinced that you are looking after my Meccan affairs as closely as possible, yet remember that Amzi has a house in Medina, too, which has ever a door open for you.
Dumah sends his love. The poor lad is greatly excited over the stirring events which are the talk of the town here.
Commend me to your friend Nathan and his family. Trusting to see or to hear from you soon,
And the peace,Amzi.
To this letter Yusuf returned the following answer:
Yusuf, at Mecca,To Amzi the Benevolent, Medina.
My Heart's Brother:—Your most welcome letter lies before me, and it is quite unnecessary to say with what mingled feelings of pleasure and pain I read it,—pleasure, because, whether you will it or not, your confidence in this false prophet is tottering; pain, because of the marvelous power which this Mohammed seems to be wielding over your excitable Arab populace. Strange, indeed, is his new attitude; we had not deemed him possessed of a martial spirit; yet may we hope that this procedure will be but as the stone which shall crush his ends, falling upon his own head.It is possible that I may be in Medina ere long. I am impatient to see you and our poor Dumah again.And so Uzza is there, too, to bring up afresh the darkest page of my history; for Amzi, it was I, in my fanatic zeal, who induced the Persian grandmother to give up his child for sacrifice. Scarcely was it over when, even in my heathen darkness, my whole soul revolted against what I had done, and against the faith which had sanctioned such deeds of blood. It was then that I began to think and strive against the mists of darkness, until at last I fought away from the creed of my country.I fear not to meet Uzza, although I know that he bears me no good-will, and would not refrain from the assassin's knife did it satisfy his wish for blood-revenge.Our friend, Nathan, and his family are well. Did I tell you that they have gone to live near Tayf?I spent a pleasant day with them not long ago. They have a little cabin in the mountains, and Nathan has a few flocks which he herds out on the green hill-sides. They are all so happy, and so contented with their pastoral mode of living that they think of moving back into Palestina, as the pasturage is better there. It will be a long journey, but, with the consciousness of the Father's care over them, and the bond of love to shorten the way, they will not mind it. Nathan's wife, in particular, is anxious to return to her childhood's home, and never wearies of telling her children stories of her girlhood days, when she and her sister, whom she still loves passionately, watched their sheep on the hills of Hebron.Mary and Manasseh have grown quite tall. Manasseh is almost a man, fiery and impetuous as ever, yet wise beyond his years, and a devout Christian.Nathan is very happy. After all his trials he has perfect rest. His face almost beamed when he said to me in the words of the Psalmist, "Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence. When I said, My foot slippeth, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up. For the Lord is my defence, and my God is the rock of my refuge."He is very anxious about the hostile attitude which Mohammed has taken. "God grant," he said, "that there may not be another season of persecution. If there be, and the Lord will, I shall stay at Medina to comfort, if I may, my poor brethren there. 'Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' God grant that we may all be imbued with the spirit of him who said, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.' Yet, Yusuf, it may be that we shall be forcedto defend our lives, and those of our wives and children,—God knoweth. He will direct us, if we permit him, so that, living or dying, it shall be well with us."Is not such love, such comfort in the help and presence and sympathy of God, worth more, infinitely more, than power or wealth or worldly pleasure? Nothing that happens can overwhelm this happy family, for they have the consciousness of God's love and care in all. They have Jesus for a personal friend. Amzi, what would I not give to know that you felt as they do, and as I learn to feel, more and more, every day.My friend, I could keep on in this strain for the whole night; but I am weary, for to-day I talked for many hours with some of those who are half-apostatizing to Mohammed.So, Mizpah; and may the blessing of God be upon you.
My Heart's Brother:—
Your most welcome letter lies before me, and it is quite unnecessary to say with what mingled feelings of pleasure and pain I read it,—pleasure, because, whether you will it or not, your confidence in this false prophet is tottering; pain, because of the marvelous power which this Mohammed seems to be wielding over your excitable Arab populace. Strange, indeed, is his new attitude; we had not deemed him possessed of a martial spirit; yet may we hope that this procedure will be but as the stone which shall crush his ends, falling upon his own head.
It is possible that I may be in Medina ere long. I am impatient to see you and our poor Dumah again.
And so Uzza is there, too, to bring up afresh the darkest page of my history; for Amzi, it was I, in my fanatic zeal, who induced the Persian grandmother to give up his child for sacrifice. Scarcely was it over when, even in my heathen darkness, my whole soul revolted against what I had done, and against the faith which had sanctioned such deeds of blood. It was then that I began to think and strive against the mists of darkness, until at last I fought away from the creed of my country.
I fear not to meet Uzza, although I know that he bears me no good-will, and would not refrain from the assassin's knife did it satisfy his wish for blood-revenge.
Our friend, Nathan, and his family are well. Did I tell you that they have gone to live near Tayf?
I spent a pleasant day with them not long ago. They have a little cabin in the mountains, and Nathan has a few flocks which he herds out on the green hill-sides. They are all so happy, and so contented with their pastoral mode of living that they think of moving back into Palestina, as the pasturage is better there. It will be a long journey, but, with the consciousness of the Father's care over them, and the bond of love to shorten the way, they will not mind it. Nathan's wife, in particular, is anxious to return to her childhood's home, and never wearies of telling her children stories of her girlhood days, when she and her sister, whom she still loves passionately, watched their sheep on the hills of Hebron.
Mary and Manasseh have grown quite tall. Manasseh is almost a man, fiery and impetuous as ever, yet wise beyond his years, and a devout Christian.
Nathan is very happy. After all his trials he has perfect rest. His face almost beamed when he said to me in the words of the Psalmist, "Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence. When I said, My foot slippeth, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up. For the Lord is my defence, and my God is the rock of my refuge."
He is very anxious about the hostile attitude which Mohammed has taken. "God grant," he said, "that there may not be another season of persecution. If there be, and the Lord will, I shall stay at Medina to comfort, if I may, my poor brethren there. 'Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' God grant that we may all be imbued with the spirit of him who said, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.' Yet, Yusuf, it may be that we shall be forcedto defend our lives, and those of our wives and children,—God knoweth. He will direct us, if we permit him, so that, living or dying, it shall be well with us."
Is not such love, such comfort in the help and presence and sympathy of God, worth more, infinitely more, than power or wealth or worldly pleasure? Nothing that happens can overwhelm this happy family, for they have the consciousness of God's love and care in all. They have Jesus for a personal friend. Amzi, what would I not give to know that you felt as they do, and as I learn to feel, more and more, every day.
My friend, I could keep on in this strain for the whole night; but I am weary, for to-day I talked for many hours with some of those who are half-apostatizing to Mohammed.
So, Mizpah; and may the blessing of God be upon you.
Yusuf.
"Mine honor is my life: both grow in one;Take honor from me, and my life is done."
"Mine honor is my life: both grow in one;Take honor from me, and my life is done."
—Shakespeare.
The scene again opens far to the north of the Nejd, El Shark, or the East. Into one of its most favored spots, a green and secluded valley, surrounded by grassy slopes, the sun shone with the fresh brightness of early morning, sending floods of green-gold light through the leaves Of the acacias, now covered with yellowish blossoms heavy with perfume.
By the side of a little torrent, rose the black tents of a Bedouin encampment. Flocks were on the hill-side, and the tinkling of the camel-bells and soft bleat of the lambs sounded faintly from the distance.
At the head of the valley, upon a rounded boulder of granite sat a woman; and before her stood a young man to whom she was earnestly talking, at times stretching out her hands as though she were beseeching him for some favor.
The woman was tall and well-built, her eyes were large and dark, and their brilliancy increased, according to Bedouin custom, by the application of kohl to the lids. Her face was keen and intelligent, and her hair, braided in innumerable small plaits, and surmounted by a much bespangled head-dress, was slightly streaked with gray.
The youth was slight and agile, his every movement full of grace. His face was oval, regular in its contour, and full of expression, although the Jewish cast of his features had traces of Arab blood. He seemed to be in some excitement, for, with a trait peculiar to Bedouins, his restless and deep-set eyes were now half-closed until but a narrow, glittering line appeared, and now suddenly opened to their fullest extent and turned directly upon the woman to whom he talked.
"Would you have me branded among the whole tribe as a coward, mother?" he was saying. "Are not the Bedouin lads from all over the Nejd flocking to the field, even as the sparrows flock before the storm clouds of the north? And will the son of Musa be the craven, crouching at home in his mother's nest?"
"A flock of vultures are they, rather!" she cried passionately—"Vultures flocking to a feast of blood, to gloat over the carrion of brothers, sons, and husbands, left dead on the reeking plain, while in their solitary homes the women moan, even as moans the bird of the tamarisk, robbed of its young."
"'Tis your Jewish heart speaks now, mother. Ah, but your Jewish women are too soft-hearted! Know you not that Bedouin mothers have not only sent their sons to battle, but have gone themselves and fought in the thickest of the fray?"
"Ah, you are a true Bedouin, and ashamed of your mother!" returned Lois, with a sigh. "Truly, a Jewess has no place among the tribes of the wilderness."
The youth's face softened. "I am not ashamed of my mother!" he said, quickly. "But my blood leaps for the glory of battle, for the clash of cymbals, the speed of the charge, the tumult, and the victory!"
"But a hollow glory you will find it," shesaid scornfully. "Murder and pillage,—and all sanctioned in the name of religion!"
"Even so, is not the name of harami (brigand) accounted honorable among the desert tribes?" asked the youth, quickly.
"Alas, yes. Ye reck not that it has been said, 'Thou shalt not steal.' But you, Kedar, care not for the Jewish Scripture. Why need I quote it to you."
"Arabian religion, Arabian honor, for the Arab, say I!" returned the youth haughtily. "Let me roam over the wild on my steed, racing with the breeze, lance in hand, bound for the hunt or fray; let me swoop upon the cowardly caravans whose hundreds shriek and scream and fall back before a handful of Bedouin lads, if I will. More honorable it is to me than to plod along in a shugduf on a long-legged camel with a bag of corn or a trifle of cloth to look after. Be the Jew if you will, but give me the leaping blood, the soaring spirit of the Bedouin!"
The woman sighed again. "You will be killed, Kedar," she said. "Then what will all this profit you?"
"To die on the field is more glorious than to breathe one's life out tamely in bed," replied the other.
There was no use of reasoning with this rash youth.
"And think you this Mohammed is worthy of your sacrifice?" she asked.
"If he be really inspired, as hundreds now believe, is he not worthy of every sacrifice? Does he not promise his followers an eternal felicity?"
"A vile impostor!" exclaimed the woman harshly. "Yet you will not believe what I say, until your own eyes see and your own ears hear! Go! Go! I shall talk no more to you! If you fall it shall be no fault of Lois'!"
She arose and waved him off with an impatient gesture. Yet he lingered.
"You will forgive me, mother?" he asked, gently.
The woman's mother-heart welled to the brim. She answered brokenly:
"My son, my son! Could I do aught else? Take my blessing with you! And now, here comes your father."
Musa was feebler than upon that first night when he met Yusuf in his tent, and his hair had become almost white, yet there was the same dignity in his appearance.
"Go, Kedar," he said, "and prove that you are indeed the son of Musa. Go, and see that you bring back good news of battle!"
Kedar bent his head in token of assent.
Before an hour had passed he was mounted on the swiftest of his father's horses—a short, fleshless animal, with legs thin and of steel-like muscle. But its slender neck, its small, snake-like head, its dilating nostrils, through which the light shone crimson, and its fiery, intelligent eye, showed its blood as it pawed the ground and neighed impatiently. A noble animal and a noble rider they looked as they were off like an arrow, Kedar's fine figure swaying with the movement of the steed as though rider and horse were one.
All alone went the youth across hill and valley, over rock and torrent, fearless and swift as an eagle; for Kedar scorned to seek the protection of numbers, although quite aware of the fact that a large caravan, under Abu Sofian, was even then on its way from Syria to Mecca, and was within three hours' journey from him.
While Kedar was thus speeding towards Medina, the caravan was also proceeding more slowly towards the south. It consisted of thirty horsemen and one thousand camels richly laden with grain, with spices, with purple of Syria, richest cloths of Damascus, and choicest perfumes of the northern regions.
It was the month Ramadhan, and the peaceful traders went confidently and securely on their way, well pleased with the success of their journey and hopeful in anticipation of the large gain they were to make during the great bazar of the pilgrimage.
While thus proceeding leisurely on, the leaders were somewhat surprised to see a solitary rider coming towards them in the greatest haste. He was mounted on a swift dromedary, and with head bent down so that his turban concealed his face, he kept striking the animal with his short camel-stick and urging it on with his shrill "Yákh! Yákh!"
All breathless he at last reached the caravan. "Is Abu Sofian here?" he cried.
"I am Abu Sofian," said the sturdy old chief. "What do you desire of me?"
"I have been sent by Amzi the benevolent," returned the other. "He bids me say to Abu Sofian that it will be well for the caravan to advance with the greatest caution, as Mohammed and his forces are in ambush on the way."
"What guarantee have I," said Abu Sofian, "that you are truly from Amzi the Meccan, and not an emissary of Mohammed sent to entrap us into some narrow glen?"
"Here is your guarantee," replied the stranger, stretching forth his hand. "Recognize you not this ring?"
"It is well," answered Abu Sofian, satisfied. "We are much beholden to you and to our friend Amzi, who we had feared was but too good a friend to this same Mohammed."
"Can you trust Amzi?" asked one near, anxiously.
"As my own soul," returned the leader. "Amzi's heart is gold; Amzi's words are jewels of purest luster. He speaks truth." Then to the messenger, "Know you what route Mohammed will take?"
"I know not. He has, doubtless, spies, who will inform him of your movements, and thus enable him to act accordingly."
"Then it remains for us to meet him by his own tactics," said Abu Sofian, "and no time is to be lost. You, Omair my faithful, speed to Mecca with what dispatch you may. Go by the by-paths which you know so well. Tell Abu Jahl, whom I have left in charge, to send us help quickly."
Omair made obeisance and left at once.
"You, Akab and Zimmah," continued the leader, "go by the hills ahead and find out what you can. As for us, we will keep our lips closed and our eyes and ears open. Abu Sofian is not yet so old that he has forgotten the signs of the wilderness."
The vast procession moved on again slowly and in a dead silence, broken only by the trampling of the beasts and the moans of the camels.
Presently, on coming near a spot which might be deemed hazardous ground, Abu Sofian ordered a halt and went forward himself, alone and on foot. With eye on the alert, ear on a tension to catch the slightest sound, and body bent downward to facilitate the closest scrutiny of the ground, the keen old man proceeded slowly, stepping with cat-like precision and quietness.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation. A small object lay dark on the yellow sand. He picked it up. It was a date-stone. He examined it closely. It was slightly smaller than the stones of the ordinary fruit.
"A Medina date!" he exclaimed; "whoever has thrown it there!"
Going a few paces further, he found several similar ones thrown by the wayside. The trampling of the sand, too, showed that a considerable force had been on the road at no distant time.
He bent down again and directed his keen scrutiny on the road, then retraced his steps for a short distance. There were tracks pointing in both directions, but at one point the company seemed to have turned.
It was clear, then, that for some reason the force had been ordered to turn and go back for a distance, probably to await the caravan in some ravine, and that they were now not very far away. It was necessary, then, to be as expeditious as possible.
He hastily returned and gave the order that the route of the caravan be changed, and that the party should cross over the hills and proceed by a route close to the Red Sea until the place of danger was left behind.
This was accordingly done, and the long lines passed anxiously yet laboriously onward over flinty summits, down steep and rugged hill-sides, past rocky clefts and over barren desert spots peopled only by the echoes that rang from the mountain sides, until at last the sparkling waters of the Red Sea lay below, and the anxious travelers felt that, for the present at least, they were safe.
"A Prodigy of Fear, and a portentOf broached mischief to the unborn times."
"A Prodigy of Fear, and a portentOf broached mischief to the unborn times."
—Shakespeare.
The afternoon was intensely warm. Although the heat of the day was past, the houses of Mecca seemed to bake in the sun, the sand burned like a furnace, and a visible, shimmering heat seemed to fill the air. Nevertheless the ceremonies of Tawaf and the ablutions of Zem-Zem went on unceasingly, for it was the month of Ramadhan, and the half-naked pilgrims, with their scanty white garments, shaven heads, and bare feet, kept up the perpetual promenade about the temple, even when so hot as to be ready to drop of exhaustion. The courtyard was crowded with people, the carriers of Zem-Zem water were in constant demand, and, in the cooler recesses of the covered portico around the great yard, a humming trade went on, the venders' cries rising above the prayers of the pilgrims.
Such was the scene upon which Omair suddenly staggered, all breathless, with haggard face, turban awry, and thin wisps of hair streaming in wet hanks over his brow.
"Where is Abu Jahl?" he cried, gasping.
"Why, what is wrong? Tell us!" cried the curious crowd in some consternation. "Where is Abu Sofian? Where is the caravan? Why have you come alone?"
"Send me Abu Jahl!" was his only reply.
The old man happened to be at the Caaba, and came anxiously at the unexpected summons.
"Omair!" he exclaimed. "Allah! What has happened?"
"Send them help!" gasped Omair. "Send them help at once, or not one in our fair caravan may escape! Mohammed is lying in wait for them in the mountain passes."
"May Allah have mercy!" ejaculated the old man; and the crowd about shrieked and groaned.
"Bring me the stair!" called Abu Jahl. "Place it close to the Caaba!"
This done, he ascended to the roof where all might see him. His snowy beard descended to his waist over his flowing garments, and his white locks fell thinly from beneath his kufiyah.
Silence fell upon the assembly below, and from every street men came hurrying in to hear the strange tidings.
"In the name of Allah, hear!" called Abu Jahl in loud tones. "Ye of the tribe of Koreish, hear! Ye who love Abu Sofian, hear! Ye who have friends or goods in the great caravan from Syria, hear! Ye above whom the arch-impostor, Mohammed, aspires, and whom he would fain crush beneath his feet as the vile serpent in the dust, hear! He hath beset our friends in the fastnesses of the mountains. He swoopeth upon them as the eagle upon the defenceless lamb out of the fold! Who, then, among you, will follow Abu Jahl to deliver them?"
An approving murmur rose, long and loud; then a hush fell as the aged man continued, appealing to the courage of his hearers:
"Ye who fear not the foul rebel's sword, ye who would uphold the honor of your wives and little ones, nor send your children out upon the world as the offspring of cowards, beseech your gods for blessing, then mount, and meet me as soon as may be outside the temple gates. In the name of Allah, good-speed!"
A shout of assent arose. The thoroughly excited multitude swayed and surged like the waves of the sea. Hundreds hurried off to do the behest of their leader, and, returning, hastened to perform Tawaf about the Caaba before setting out on their perilous journey.
Yusuf, as a Christian, dared not enter the temple; but he heard the news from without. His heart was moved with compassion for the poor, defenceless traders, caught like mice in a trap, and he decided to fall into the ranks of the rescue party, intending, if his life were spared, to pay a visit to Amzi, at Medina.
While the recruits were gathering, Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian, rushed up, her face wild and haggard with terror, her long black hair streaming on the wind, her eyes flashing with excitement, and her lips drawn back, exposing her yellow, fang-like teeth. A tigress she looked in her fury, and it was with difficulty that Abu Jahl prevented her from going with the expedition, which, in the cooler shades of evening, started off at a rapid pace, leaving her to nurse her vengeance until a later day.
Hurried, yet long and tedious, was the journey, and the anxiety and impatience of the volunteers made it seem almost interminable.
The youth made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's shoulder.The youth made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's shoulder.—Seepage 46.
At length news was brought of the safety of the caravan, and of its deviation towards the sea. But the blood of the Meccans was up, and the fiery old leader was determined to punish Mohammed for his misconduct, and thus, perhaps, prevent him from committing similar atrocities in the future. Accordingly he sent part of his troops for protection to the caravan, and commanded the rest, about nine hundred in number, to push on; and among those ordered forward to the field was Yusuf.
Mohammed, with three hundred and thirteen soldiers, mounted chiefly on camels, received word of this advance. His men were lying between Medina and the sea, and, as he thought, directly between the caravan and Abu Jahl's army. He told his men to be of good cheer, as Allah had promised them an easy victory; yet he was careful to omit no human means of securing an advantage. He posted his troops beside the brook Bedr, and had them hastily throw up an entrenchment to cover the flank of his troops. Then, sure of a constant supply of water, and safe from fear of surprise, he awaited the Meccan army.
He himself ascended a little eminence, accompanied only by Abu Beker, and, in a small hut made of branches, he prayed for the assistance of three thousand angels. In his excitement, one of his old paroxysms came on, but this was regarded as auspicious by his men, to whom, superstitious as they were, every occurrence of this kind was an additional presage of victory and an additional spur to bravery in battle.
And now the opposing force appeared, coming down the opposite hill, the men hot, weary, and covered with dust.
After a preliminary skirmish between individual combatants, the battle began,—not a systematic charge in close ranks, not the disciplined attack of trained warriors, but a wild mêlée of camels, horses, flashing scimitars, gleaming daggers and plunging spears, in the midst of clouds of dust and streaming scarfs.
The combat was long, and at one time the party of Mohammed seemed to waver. The prophet rushed out, threw a handful of dust into the air and exclaimed:
"May confusion light upon their faces! Charge, ye faithful! charge for Allah and his prophet!"
Nothing could withstand the wild dash made by his men. Filled with the passion of enthusiasm, the zeal of fanatics, and the confidence of success, they bore down like madmen. The Koreish, many of whom were fearful of enchantment by the prophet, were seized with sudden panic. In vain Abu Jahl tried to rally them. He was torn from his horse by a savage Moslem, and his head severed from his body. His troops fled in terror, leaving seventy men dead on the field and seventy prisoners.
The bodies and prisoners were robbed, and the spoil divided. Mohammed, in order to avert dispute over the booty, very conveniently had a revelation at the time.—"Know that whenever ye gain any spoil, a fifth part thereof belongeth unto God, and to the apostle, and to his kindred, and the orphans, and the poor, and the traveler."
Upon this occasion he claimed a considerable amount of silver, and a sword, Dhu'l Fakar (or the Piercer), which he carried in every subsequent battle.
During the battle, Yusuf, the priest, had fought bravely. Mounted on a magnificent horse, his commanding figure had marked him out as an object worthy of attack. Accordingly he was ever in the thickest of the fight. With cool and calm determination his blows fell, until suddenly an event occurred which completely unmanned him, and gave his enemies the advantage.
Among the opponents who singled him out for attack was a youth mounted on a horse of equal power and agility. The youth was rather slight, but his skill in thrusting and in averting strokes, and his evidence of practice in every exercise of the lance, rendered him a fitting adversary for the priest with his superior strength.
For some time their combat had gone on single-handed, when the youth's head-dress falling off revealed a face strikingly familiar to Yusuf. It was Manasseh's own face, pale, and with clots of blood upon it!
The priest was horror-stricken. Heforboreto thrust, and the youth, seizing the opportunity, made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's shoulder, and felling him to the ground. A new opponent came and engagedthe youth's attention; the panic fell, and the priest, seeing that it was useless to remain, managed to mount and ride off after the retreating troops.
Scarcely injured, yet covered with blood, he dismounted at Amzi's door in Medina.
"Yusuf! My brother!" cried the Meccan in astonishment, "what means this?"
In a few words Yusuf told the tale of the battle, and Amzi placed him comfortably upon a soft couch, insisting upon ministering to him as though he had been severely wounded.
"So, Yusuf the gentle too has become a seeker of man's blood!" he said. "Verily, what an effect hath this degenerate age!"
"Believe me, friend," returned the other, earnestly, "you too would have gone had you been in Mecca and had heard of our poor friends, all unarmed, and apparently in the power of the enemy. When the advance to Bedr was ordered, I was one under authority, and had no choice but to submit, though I had little enough love for the stench of blood."
"Yet," returned Amzi, "Yusuf's life is too precious to be risked in such madness. It is not necessary for him to court death; for the time may soon come when he shall be forced to fight in self-defence. Till then, let foolish youths dash to the lance's point if they will."
Yusuf bowed his head, and in a low tone replied: "'O God, the Lord, the strength of my salvation, thou hast covered my head in the day of battle. He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was against me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.' Amzi, whether in life or in death, it shall be as he wills."
Amzi looked at him curiously. "Yusuf," he said, "is there no extremity of your life in which your religion fails to give you comfort? It seems to furnish you with words befitting every occasion."
"Comfort in every hour of need," returned Yusuf, "deliverance in every hour of temptation, is our God able to bestow if we seek him in spirit and in truth. Things temporal, as well as things spiritual, call for his almighty love and attention; and our love for him brightens every pathway in life. It is the knowledge of this which has upheld his children in all the ages;—not one of them who has not gloried in feeling that 'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble. Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.' Not one of them but has at some time found comfort in the promises, 'When the poor and the needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them; I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them. He that keepeth Israel slumbers not, nor sleeps. Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.' Think of this help, Amzi, in every struggle: in the struggle, worse than any time of battle, with one's own sinful heart. And there is not one of God's children but has realized the blessedness of following the commands of Jesus, 'Have faith in God. Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.' Amzi, you who love gentleness and peace, truth and humility, cannot you find in Christ and his loving precepts all you would ask? Can anything appeal to your warm heart more than such injunctions as these?—'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you. When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Watch ye, therefore, and pray always. Pray that ye enter not into temptation.'"
He paused, out of breath; for such hadbeen his study of the Scriptures that the words came in a flood to his lips.
Amzi sighed. "Yes, Yusuf," he said, "such words seem to me full of goodness and sweetness; yet, try as I may, I cannot realize their true import. I cannot rejoice, as you and your friends do, in your religion and its promises."
"My Amzi," returned the priest, "how can you be warmed except you come to the fire? Remember the man with the withered hand. Did he not stretch it out in faith? My friend, like him, act! Reach out your heart to God. He will not fail you. Look not upon yourself. Look upon God, who is, indeed, closer to you than you can imagine. Put your hand in his, behold his love manifested to us in the coming of his dear Son, and feel that that love is to-day the same, proceeding from the Father in whom is 'no variableness, neither shadow of turning.'"
Amzi sighed. "Yusuf," he said, "it appears all dark, impenetrable, to me. A wall of adamant seems to stand between me and God. Pray for me, friend. In this matter I fear I am heartless."
In spite of this assertion, there was genuine concern in the tone, and the priest's face flushed in the glad light of hope.
"Amzi," he exclaimed, "my hope for you increases. Even now, you begin to realize your own self: it remains for you to realize God's self. Know God—would I could burn that upon your heart! All else would be made plain."
Amzi sighed again. For a time he sat in silence, then he said:
"I have been reading of the tabernacle, and of the sacrifices therein."
"Typical of the death of Christ," returned Yusuf. "A constant emblem of that mind which was, and is to-day, ready to suffer, that we may understand its infinite love."
"Strange, strange!" said Amzi, musingly. Then after a long silence: "Yusuf, have you ever noted the resemblance of the Caaba to the reputed appearance of the tabernacle?"
"The resemblance struck me from the first glance—the courtyard, the temple itself, and the curtain (or 'Kiswah') corresponding to the veil of the tabernacle. This same Caaba may trace its origin in some dim way to the ancient tabernacle, of which, in this land, the significance must have become lost in the centuries during which the Ishmaelitish race forgot the true worship of God."
"And what think you of the course which affairs are now taking in Arabia?" asked Amzi. "You believe in the supervision of God; why, then, does he permit such outbreaks as the present one is proving to be?"
"I certainly believe that the Creator sees and knows all things. I believe, too, that even to Mohammed, at one time in his life, the Holy Spirit appealed, as he did to me, and, I hope, does now to you, Amzi,—for his pleadings come sometime to all men; but, I think that if in earnest at first, Mohammed—if, indeed, he be not a monomaniac on the subject of his divine calling—has given himself up to the wild indulgence of his ambition, forgetting Him whose power is able to direct us all aright. Hence, he guides himself, rather than seeks to be guided, and, in such a case, he may sometimes be allowed to go on in his own way, bearing with him those who are so foolish as to accept his teaching. Something of this kind may, indeed, be one of the secrets of the crimes and calamities which enter into many human lives. God leaves us free to choose. When we come to know him we choose to be his followers. If we are indifferent to him, he may, at times, look on without interfering in our lives except to send us occasionally great trouble, or great joy, as an appeal to us. His mercy is great. He pities and pleads with us, yet he leaves us free."
"And what, think you, will be the effect upon Arabia of this rising?"
Yusuf shook his head. "I know not," he said. "We cannot see now, nor mayhap until ages have rolled by; but 'at eventide it shall be light.'"
So talked Amzi and the priest until the gray dawn shone in, and the voice of Bilal, the muezzin, was heard calling from the mosque:
"God is great! There is no God but God!Mohammed is the prophet of God! Come to prayers! God is great!"
"In doing good we are generally cold and languid and sluggish.... But the works of Malice and Injustice are quite in another style."—Burke.
"In doing good we are generally cold and languid and sluggish.... But the works of Malice and Injustice are quite in another style."—Burke.
Among those left dead on the field of Bedr were the father, uncle and brother of Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian. Fierce and savage as was her nature, she was yet capable of deep feeling, and her love for her kindred was one of the ruling passions of her life.
When the caravan at last reached Mecca in safety, she rushed to meet Abu Sofian, weeping wildly, wringing her hands in grief, and throwing dust on her long hair. She besought him frantically to avenge their death, and he, knowing that the debt of "blood revenge" was now upon him, and that blood alone would wipe the stain from his honor, gathered two hundred swift horsemen and set out almost immediately for Medina.
On the way he ravaged the whole country, burning the villages and date-groves of Mohammed's followers.
When within three miles of Medina the prophet sallied out to meet him. A brief contest took place, and Abu Sofian was once more defeated in what was jestingly called the Battle of the Meal Sacks.
The Moslems were exultant over their success, but Abu Sofian returned to Mecca, the blood-dues still unpaid, and with bitter enmity gnawing at his heart.
In the meantime Mohammed began to assume all the airs of an independent sovereign. He married a beautiful maiden, Hafza, to whom he entrusted the care of the Koran, according as it was revealed; and shortly afterwards he issued a decree by which all true believers were ordered to face Mecca when praying. Thus early in his career of conquest he had fixed upon Mecca as the future holy city of the Moslems. As usual, the Koran was called in to authorize him in thus fixing the Kebla, or point of prayer.
"Unto God belongeth the East and the West. He directeth whom he pleaseth in the right way. Turn, therefore, thy face towards the holy temple of Mecca; and wherever ye be, turn your faces towards that place."
At this time also he sanctioned the retaining of the holy fast of Ramadhan and the pilgrimages connected therewith. As he was well aware that the doing away with the great bazar upon which the prosperity of Mecca so largely depended would loose a host of enemies upon him, he declared:
"O true believers, a fast is ordained you, as it was ordained unto them before you, that ye may fear God. The month of Ramadhan shall ye fast, in which the Koran was sent down from heaven, a direction unto men."
Henceforth, during the fast, all true believers were to abstain from eating or drinking, and from all earthly pleasures, while the sun shone above the horizon and until the lamps at the mosques were lighted by the Imaums. It is needless to say that the Moslems obviated this self-sacrifice by sleeping during the day as much as possible, giving the night up to all the proscribed indulgences of the interdicted season.
And now Mohammed's hatred to the Jews began to show itself, and the awful persecution of the little Jewish band in Medina commenced.
Poor Dumah was one of the first to bring the rod of wrath upon himself. When wandering down the street one day, not very long after the Battle of Bedr, he paused by a well, just as Mohammed, accompanied by his faithful Zeid, appeared in the way. Dumah saw them and at once began to sing his thoughts in a wild, irregular lament. His voice was peculiarly sweet and clear, andevery word reached the ear of the enraged prophet. The song was a weird lament over those slain at Bedr: