"The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore."
"The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore."
In the same year, the seventh year of the Hejira, Mohammed made the expected attack on Khaïbar. The chief, Kenana, got word of his approach, and ordered that the country for miles around the capital should be laid waste. For days the long roads leading into the city from every direction, swarmed with a moving line of anxious-faced people, driving their camels and sheep ahead of them, and leading mules laden with household property. Low wagons creaked beneath the weight of fodder for the animals, and corn and dates for the people; and the loud "Yákh! Yákh!" of the camel-drivers mingled with the thud of the camel-sticks falling upon the thick hides of the lazy animals.
Asru was given charge of the expedition for laying waste the country; and never was a more considerate destroyer.
"Here, here!" he would cry to an aged man, "let me load that animal for you!" and he would lift the heavy burden to the back of the pack-mule, while the old man would say, "You are surely a kind soldier after all."
"I will carry this sick girl," he would say, to another, and would lift her as gently as a mother and place her in the shugduf in which she was to be conveyed to the city.
His spirit of gentleness spread among his men.
"Let us be kind to our friends, men," he would urge upon them. "The day is fast coming when we can scarcely be kind to our enemies, be we never so willing."
So the people, though sad as they looked back upon their smouldering homes and blazing palm trees, were filled with love for the gentle soldiers, and went up with a new motive in striking for their liberty, for there is naught that will bring forth the strongest powers of action like the impulse of love.
Ah, the blight and misery of war! Manasseh looked out from the citadel upon the scene which he had deemed so fair—the waving corn-fields, the groves of palms and olives and aloes, the nestling houses, the pastures covered with flocks—now but a blackened and smoking waste, with here and there the skeleton of a palm tree pointing upward like a bony finger; and here and there a reeking column of black smoke, or the dull glare of a burning homestead.
The people murmured not. "Better let it lie in ashes than permit it to fall into the hands of the impostor!" they cried, and they muttered curses upon the head of the destroyer of their happiness and prosperity.
All were at last in and the anxious waiting began. Keen eyes peered from the citadel night and day. Watchmen were posted at every point of the out-works and spies were sent broadcast through the country.
Then the fateful word came. Breathlessscouts told of an army fast approaching, twelve hundred men and two hundred horse, commanded by the prophet himself, his vizier Ali, and his friend Abu Beker.
Al Kamus, the citadel, was immediately crowded with men, and soldiers were posted along the walls, neither strong in numbers nor in arms, for many were armed but with staves and stones. Desperation was in their hearts, and calm, resolute faces looked forth for the advancing host.
Just as the morning sun flashed defiantly from the towers of Al Kamus, the Moslem army came in sight. At first it seemed like a moving, shapeless mass over the blackened fields,—and as the rising sun fell upon it, the moving mass became dotted with glints and lines of silver, like the ripple of waves on a sunlit sea; but the watchers recognized the deadly import of those bright gleams, and by the flash of scimitars and lances were able to compute in a vague way the strength of their opponents.
On they came until the stony place called Mansela was reached, and there, beneath a great rock, the host halted. The anxious watchers from the city could not discern the exact meaning of this, but more than one guessed that the halt was made for the offering of ostentatious prayer by the prophet.
This indeed was the case. As Mohammed came in full view of the citadel he cried out: "There, O believers, is the eyrie to which ye must climb. But victory has been promised us. Angels shall again lend us their invisible aid. Therefore have courage, O believers! Remember that for each of those vile infidels slain, a double joy awaits you in paradise. Know ye that every drop of an unbelieving Jew shed is as the crystal drops of nectar of paradise to the happy follower of Mohammed, the prophet of God. And fear not that ye be slain in this combat, O faithful! Ye will not be slain except your appointed time has come, when ye must in any case die. Remember that to be slain in battle for the cause of Islam is to reap a glorious reward!"
Then, mounting the great rock, he called with a loud voice: "La illaha il Allah! Mohammed Resoul Allah!" (There is no God but God! Mohammed is the prophet of God!)
And while the fanatics below prostrated themselves he prayed long and loudly.
Then the tents were pitched and the siege began. For many days it lasted. So abundant had been the supplies of food, and so numerous the droves of animals brought into the city, that those within the walls had no fear of famine. But so complete was the devastation of the country that the prophet's troops began to suffer for want of food. Yet they waited, as a suitable time of attack had not arrived. In the meantime they were engaged in digging trenches as a protection to the troops.
Manasseh and Asru were much together. They had become like brothers, and night after night they met on the citadel and looked out over the strange scene that was presented to the inhabitants of Khaïbar every evening during the siege. For, daily, just as the sun was setting, the whole Moslem army, with the prophet praying loudly at its head, set out in solemn procession, then proceeded round and round the city until seven circuits were completed, as in Tawaf at the Caaba.
Many among the more superstitious Jews of Khaïbar and their few Koreish adherents felt a thrill of awe as they looked upon this ceremony, fearing that the prophet was again practicing his arts of enchantment upon them; but the performance never failed to bring the smile of scorn to Asru's lips.
"Blind fanatics!" he exclaimed one evening. "A precious set of idiots!"
But Manasseh looked serious. "Asru," he said, "of course, I do not believe in all this; yet there is a something solemn in it to me. It makes me think of the seven circuits made about Jericho, when the priests blew upon the trumpets and the walls fell."
"Ah, but the voice of Jehovah gave the order then; now,"—and he smiled contemptuously—"the commanding voice is that of Mohammed, the peaceful Meccan trader, anon the gentle prophet of Allah, anon theblood-thirsty vulture and cut-throat robber, destroyer of life and liberty."
"Verily, Asru the Moslem soldier has completely changed," returned Manasseh, smiling.
"Aye, Manasseh, thanks to the peaceful Gospel of Jesus, Asru the Moslem, the lover of war, would now fain see this fair land smiling with happy homes and peaceful tillers of the soil. What is that about the child and the cockatrice?"
"'And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall lay its hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea,'" quoted Manasseh solemnly.
Asru looked thoughtfully out towards the distant hills, but he did not see them. He saw a quiet home in Mecca, where a pale-faced wife, a beautiful daughter, and two bright-eyed boys, sat.
"Manasseh," he said at length, "it may be that I shall be killed in this battle. If I am and you are spared, go to my wife and children. Tell them the Gospel for me. My great regret is that I myself put it off until too late. Will you, Manasseh?"
Manasseh pressed his friend's hand warmly. "You may trust me, if I live," he said simply. And the soldier was satisfied.
"Manasseh, I am rich," he continued. "See that my wealth is used for the best."
Manasseh pressed his hand again, and the tall soldier left him, feeling that, whatever happened, this young man's fidelity and integrity could be depended upon.
And now the Moslem army began to weary of inaction. Several desultory attacks were made by them, and battering-rams were set in play against the walls, but with no effect, until a grand attempt was decided upon. Night had scarcely faded into morning, and the rock of Mansela still stood black and shapeless against a gray sky, when a commotion was seen in the Moslem camp. Mohammed's troops no longer made the wild onslaught of untrained Bedouin hordes. The experience of scores of engagements had taught their leader the necessity of system; and now the host began to move in regular order in three main divisions. Above the center one floated the sacred flag of the prophet; to the right waved Ali's standard, a design of the sun; and to the left fluttered the Black Eagle of Abu Beker's division.
The battle began by an assault led by Abu Beker. Scaling-ladders were placed, and the Moslems swarmed up the walls, but a desperate band led by Al Hareth met them, and the besieging party, after a sharp fight, was compelled to withdraw. Shouts of triumph and jeers of derision arose from the city walls. The Moslems were frantic. Cries of vengeance were heard from their ranks.
Then Ali, shouting, "For God and the prophet!" dashed forward. He was dressed in scarlet, and wore a cuirass of steel. Over his head he waved the prophet's sword, and at the head of his division floated a sacred banner. Straight on he dashed towards a breach in the wall, and there, on a pile of loose stones, he fixed the standard.
Al Hareth rushed to the fore, and a desperate, single-handed combat ensued. The Moslem army and the garrison of the city alike held their breath. The contest was unequal. In a moment Al Hareth had fallen, and a mighty cheer burst from the prophet's men.
Manasseh was stationed at the head of a band of horsemen, whom he was now with difficulty keeping in check. Yet for a moment he forgot all in watching a figure that was ascending the breach.
Whose but Asru's that gigantic form? Whose but Asru's that floating turban of white—that helmet in which flashed a diamond placed there by Kenana's own hand? Whose but Asru's that clanking sword and that three-pronged spear which none but he could wield?
"Surely now the Moslem will waver!" thought the youth; and with bated breath he watched this second combat, waged beside the bleeding form of Asru's dead brother.
With dauntless air the Moslem awaited the coming of Asru. They closed upon eachother. The armies looked on, motionless, breathless, the combatants struggled, a writhing mass, broken only by the flash of the spear and glitter of the lance, as deadly blows were dealt or parried—and the sunshine rained from above. The very air seemed to stand still in watching, and the clash of every stroke was borne, with painful distinctness, to the ears of Asru's friend.
The combat was an equal one, Ali's agility matching well the superior strength of his antagonist, and it was not soon over. At last the Moslem seemed to stagger.
There, there, Asru, strike! He falls, he falls! There is your advantage! Strike! Joy, joy! victory is ours!
But no! Ye gods, what is wrong! Why stands Asru there, helpless? Why does he not act? By Allah, he loses time! Ha! his turban end has become twisted over his eyes beneath his helmet! Help! Help! Ye gods! Ha! Ali rises with a sharp recoil! He strikes! Woe! Woe! Asru is down!
A shout breaks afresh from the Moslem army as the brave Asru's body is dragged to one side of the breach. And now the Moslems dash forward like an avalanche. The breach widens; the green and yellow turbans swarm within the walls. Manasseh's horse dash forward. Over the open square a detachment of Moslem horse is spurring, the horsemen bending low as they ride, their maddened animals, gorgeous in trappings of scarlet, yellow and blue, with tails knotted at the ends, "like unto the heads of serpents." With regular sway the long spears swing with the motion of the horses.
Clash! The opposing forces meet. Men fall. Horses roll over in the dust. Back! Back! The Moslems are in headlong flight! Yet one youth fights on. Straight for the young Jewish leader he dashes. Blows rain on each side. Some of the Jewish horse close round.
"Keep off, men!" shouts Manasseh. "Would ye attack a man fifty to one?"
Blows fall faster and breath comes in short gasps.
The Moslem's horse gives way beneath him, and falls with a shriek backwards. The gallant youth springs to his feet, then throws up his arms and falls. His turban drops off from his brow, and, for the first time, Manasseh recognizes Kedar.
He turns sick. Is the Moslem dead? No, his heart still beats. "Here, men, take him into that house. I will seek him later."
On goes the young leader to a fresh scene of battle. Alas! in the meantime the poorly-armed Jews have been everywhere driven back. The Moslems have entered the citadel; the Jews give way before them everywhere. Even his own hopeful spirit cannot revive them. They are seized with a panic and fly, leaving the brave youth almost alone.
Manasseh was soon overpowered, bound, and thrown into the corner of a great hall of the citadel, where he lay apparently forgotten, listening, with heavy heart, to the shrieks and cries of his countrymen without, and to the hum of war, gradually growing fainter, until it ceased, and he knew that the conflict was over. The Moslems began to enter the hall, among them Mohammed.
The prophet took his seat at the end of the apartment, and presently several of the chief citizens were brought in with hands bound. Manasseh perceived that a tribunal was being held, and, from his corner, listened eagerly to the sentence passed upon each.
It soon appeared that treasure was the prophet's aim. Exorbitant demands were made upon the rich merchants, who, pale and trembling, offered their all in exchange for their lives. Among the rest, Kenana, with his handsome wife, was brought in.
"They tell me, Kenana," said the prophet, "that you have immense wealth stored up in this citadel. If you desire your life, inform me where this treasure is."
"I have no treasure in the citadel," said Kenana, proudly; "and if I had, the apostle of Azazil should not know of it."
The prophet's face colored with passion. "Apostle of Azazil! O blasphemer!" he exclaimed. "Do you then thus defy the only, the true prophet of Allah?"
"I do."
"Then we shall see what can be done with a stubborn infidel spirit!" returned Mohammed. "Hither! Apply the torture!"
A machine of fiendish invention was applied to the chief's hands. His fingers were squeezed until the bones cracked; his veins swelled in agony; yet no sound escaped his lips. He could not, or would not, tell where the treasure was concealed, and he was handed over to a Moslem whose brother Kenana had slain. Manasseh closed his eyes in horror, for he knew that Kenana's fate was sealed.
The Moslem's horse gives way beneath him!The Moslem's horse gives way beneath him!—Seepage 76.
Kenana's wife, Safiya, was taken by Mohammed, and on the homeward march she became the wife of the prophet.
Manasseh lay there in great depression of spirit. He was weary in mind and cramped in body, and it almost seemed as though he were completely forsaken. Yet his ever-present source of comfort returned to him, and like a sweet refrain came the words into his mind: "Thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall."
The half-starved Moslem troops now began to clamor for food, and the defenceless Jewish women were forced to prepare victuals and to serve their conquerors. Among these women entered Zaynab, the niece of Asru. She placed a shoulder of mutton before the prophet, then went towards the door. Perceiving Manasseh in the corner, she severed his bonds with a quick stroke of a small dagger, then, shielding him as best she might, she bade him begone.
"Have hope!" she whispered in his ear. "I have poisoned the prophet."
Manasseh uttered an exclamation of horror.
"Why not?" she said, with a laugh. "Manasseh fights with a lance, Zaynab with poison. Now, fly, ere they see you!"
Manasseh hastened down the dark streets to the house in which Kedar had been placed. He found the youth moaning feebly. Hurrying out, he caught a couple of stray camels, and fastened a shugduf in its place. Then, raising the youth in his strong arms, he laid him in the shugduf, and set off in the darkness.
To Mecca he must go. It was a long, weary way. He had little money, and the few provisions which a Jewish woman in the house gave him would not last long; yet he trusted to Providence, and remembered with satisfaction that the dates were now at their ripest. He would nurse Kedar tenderly; they would journey in the cool shades of night when there was less danger of being stopped on the way. Planning thus, he proceeded, as noiselessly as possible, with his precious burden, through a gap in the wall, and urged his faithful beasts on in the cool night breezes over the blackened plain.
Then he thought of Asru. Asru must not be left to be rudely thrown into a grave by infidel hands. There was danger in it, but he must go back. Kedar was sleeping. He fixed the camels by a charred palm grove, and went back, with flying feet, through the gloom. The towers of Al Kamus rose above him, with lights twinkling on the battlements. He wondered if the prophet were yet alive and what would be the result to Arabia if he were dead. On, on, through the darkness, until the fatal breach was reached. It was quite deserted, peopled only by a heap of dead bodies, from which, in the night time, the superstitious Arabs shrank in horror. Groping among them, he soon came upon Asru's huge form, which he readily recognized by its armor. He dragged the precious clay of his friend from the mass of dead and brought it, with difficulty, outside of the wall; and there beneath a palm tree, he hollowed out a lonely grave, loosening the clay with a battle-axe taken from a dead Arab, and throwing the clods out with his shield. He then cut a wisp of hair from the dead soldier's long locks, placed it in his bosom, kissed the cold brow, and uttered a short prayer over the lifeless form. Tenderly he placed the body in the shallow grave, and covered it with the clay, then, breathing a last farewell, left Asru forever in this life.
In the meantime Mohammed and one of his followers had begun to eat of the poisoned mutton. The soldier was ravenous with hunger, and set upon the tempting roast with eager relish. Mohammed partook of it more slowly.
Suddenly the soldier threw up his arms, and fell back in a convulsion. Mohammed started back in consternation. He, too, felt pain, and raised the cry of "Poison!" The Moslems came rushing in in great alarm. Antidotes were given him, and he shortly recovered, with but a slight sensation of burning in his head. The poor soldier was soon stiff in death.
Mohammed sent for the woman who had brought him the mutton. She came at once.
"Know you who put the poison in this meat?" he asked.
"It was I," she confessed, boldly.
"And how dared you perpetrate so wicked a scheme?"
"If you were a true prophet," she replied, "you would have known that the meat was poisoned; if not, it were a favor to Arabia to rid it of such a despot."
"See then," exclaimed the prophet, "how Allah hath preserved the life of his apostle! Behold, I forgive you. Return to your tribe, and sin not in like manner again."
So saying, with one of his strange freaks of magnanimity, he waved her off, and soon afterward went to rest.
"Home, sweet home."
"Home, sweet home."
The flame of a smoky oil-dip dimly lighted a spacious room in the house of Amzi. At the low table sat Yusuf and his friend with a chart before them, anxiously following, with eye and finger, the course of Mohammed's northern exploits.
The thoughts of both were with Manasseh. A knock sounded at the bolted door. Yusuf opened it, and there, like a cameo in the setting of darkness, was the youth himself.
"Manasseh, my son!" cried both in astonishment.
He stepped in, now laughing, now brushing tears from his eyes. "There!" he said, freeing himself from their embraces, "I have one more surprise. I come like a grandee, bearing my company in a litter. Help me bring him in."
They stepped out, and Manasseh's second face, that of Kedar, peered from the curtains of the shugduf. None the less warm was the greeting extended to the Moslem, whose weak and trembling frame was an instant call upon their sympathy.
"Now," said Manasseh, piling up a heap of cushions, in his impetuous way, "get us some supper, will you not? I can eat my own share, and half of Kedar's. Like the birds, he takes but a peck at a time."
Supper was ordered, and soon attendants entered bearing platters, until the copper table was burdened with the most tempting dishes of Mecca—roast of spiced lamb, slices of juicy melon and cucumber, pyramids of rice, pomegranates, grapes of Tayf, sweetmeats, fragrant draughts of coffee.
Kedar watched with a languid smile. The peace of this quiet home life affected him almost to tears. Strange had been his emotions when he awoke to consciousness in the shugduf, alone with Manasseh, in the wilderness—feelings first of indignation, then of gratitude, then of admiration for Manasseh, in whom he now discovered the leader of the Jewish horse. And on the way this admiration had ripened into love for the unselfish Jewish youth.
The weariness of the long journey began to tell upon him now, and he was glad that he was among friends. He could eat but little, and was content to listen to Manasseh's bright talk, and to watch him as, with flashing eye and eloquent gesture, he fought over again the Battle of Khaïbar, or when, with hushed tone and tearful eye, he told of the death of Asru, and his lonely burial.
"I must seek his widow and his children," said he. "This is all I have brought them;" and he drew the tangled, blood-stained lock of hair from his bosom.
Silence fell on the little group as they looked upon it, then Yusuf's tones, falling like the low, deep cadence of a chant, repeated the words:
"And there shall be no more curse, but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him. And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light; and they shall reign forever and forever."
"Amen!" responded Amzi, fervently. And Manasseh looked out of the window towards the bright heavens above Abu Kubays, imagining that he could see Asru, clad in shining apparel, with a happy smile on his lips, and the courageous eyes of old looking forth with a new love-light from his radiant countenance.
"Do you know his family?" he asked.
"Ah, yes; they are now regular attendants at the Christian church. They have destroyed all their household gods."
"What!" exclaimed Manasseh, "is this true! How I wish Asru had known it! What joy it would have given him!"
Amzi smiled. "Dare you think, Manasseh, that he does not know it long ere this,—that he did not know it even at the breach of Khaïbar? I like to think that our Asru now has a spiritual body wholly independent of time or space, capable of transporting itself whenever and wherever the mind dictates."
"We cannot know these things as they are, in this time," remarked Yusuf. "But the day is not very far distant now, Amzi, when you and I shall explore these mysteries for ourselves."
So the talk went on. Kedar listened with interest. He thought it a curious conversation, and felt so strangely out of place that it seemed as though he were dreaming, and listening to the talk of genii.
Next morning he was in a decided fever. Then came long days of pain and nights of delirium, in which Manasseh and his two friends hovered like ministering spirits about the youth, whose wounds had healed only to give place to disease far more deadly. In those terrible nights of burning heat his parched tongue swelled so that he could scarcely swallow; he tossed in agony, now fancying himself chained to a rock unable to move, while the prophet urged him on to the heights above where the battle was raging; now imagining himself fastened near a burning furnace whose flames were fed by the bodies of those whom he had slain. He would cry out in terror, and beads of perspiration would start upon his forehead. He lived the whole war over again, and his only rest was at times when, partially conscious, he felt kindly hands placing cool bandages on his burning head, or gently fanning his face.
The time at last came when he sank into a heavy sleep, and awoke calling "Mother."
It was Manasseh who came, almost startled by the naturalness of the tone.
"I have been very ill, Manasseh?"
"Very."
"Long?"
"For weeks. But you must not talk. You will soon be well now."
The invalid closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to think. Presently he opened them.
"Manasseh, if I had died, would I have seen Asru?"
Manasseh was embarrassed. "I—I cannot say," he stammered. "I do not know you well enough to be sure."
"You do not think I should. I do not think so either," he returned decidedly, and closed his eyes again.
In a few days he was able to talk.
"Manasseh, did I hear Yusuf praying for me once when I was ill?"
"He prayed for you every day,—not only that you might be spared to us, but that you might come to know Jesus, and to reject Mohammed."
"I do not think that I ever accepted him—that is, in a religious sense," he returned.
Manasseh's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "Then why did you follow him?" he asked.
"Because, I suppose, his successes dazzled me. It seemed a grand thing to be a hero in the war—to ride, and charge, and drive all before me. Aye, Manasseh, it is after the war that the scales fall from one's eyes."
"How could you, then, follow one whom you did not accept, and must, therefore, have deemed an impostor?"
"I tell you, Manasseh, I gave little heed to matters of religion. For the first time, during the last few days, I have thought of a religious life, or of a hereafter, as I lay here feeling that but for you and your friends, I should even now be in the unknown land beyond the grave."
Manasseh talked long and earnestly to the now convalescent youth. Yusuf and Amzi too talked gently to him when he seemed inclined to hear, but, in his present weak state, they deemed that the consciousness of living in a godly house would appeal more strongly than words of theirs. The weeks passed on, yet he gave no indication that their hopes were being realized. Once indeed he said:
"Manasseh, would that I had had a godly training such as yours!"
"Did your mother not tell you of these things?"
Kedar shook his head. "My poor mother drifted away from her early training in ourhalf-heathen Bedouin atmosphere," he said. "The Bedouins know little of Christ. They have traditions of the creation, of the deluge, and such old-time stories; in all else they are almost heathen. When I am well, Manasseh, we will go to them—to my father—and you will tell them, Manasseh?"
Manasseh nodded a smiling assent.
It was with no little trepidation that Yusuf and Amzi watched for some sign of spiritual growth in the young Bedouin. As the days wore on, and he was able to get about, though still weak, he was willing to attend the Christian meetings; but he sat in silence, and persisted in wearing the garb of a Moslem. The friends did not understand his attitude. They did not recognize the sort of petulant shamefacedness that hindered him from coming forth boldly in defence of principles which he fully endorsed in his secret heart, and made him fear to cut himself loose from the side on which he had taken so bold a stand, lest the epithet of "turncoat," be fixed upon him. Kedar had not yet been touched by that "live coal" which alone can set man in touch with God, and free him from all human restrictions. But though he said little, he was thinking deeply. He was not indifferent; and there is ever great room for hope where there is not indifference.
And while the little Meccan household was thus engrossed in its own circle, momentous events were happening without the capital.
During the months that followed, Mohammed still went on in his career of conquest—a course rendered easier day by day, as his enemies were now weak indeed. The tribes of Watiba, Selalima and Bedr speedily gave way before him, but were permitted to remain in their homes upon the payment of a heavy yearly tribute.
He made one more pilgrimage to Mecca, and on this occasion the Koreish, in accordance with the truce, offered no resistance; hence for three days the prophet and his shaven followers walked the streets of Mecca, and performed Tawaf at the Temple.
Mohammed found the Caaba still desecrated by idols, and, while pressing his lips to the sacred Black Stone, he solemnly vowed to conquer Mecca and to remove the pollution of images from the floor of the sanctuary.
In the meantime, the prophet enticed many of the most prominent families of Mecca to his standard. By his marriage with the aunt of Khaled Ibn Waled he secured the alliance of that famous soldier; and by marrying Omm Habiba, daughter of Abu Sofian, he hoped to gain the friendship of his ancient and inveterate enemy.
But time seemed to lag, and his restless spirit soon set itself to look about for some pretext by which he might attack Mecca. A casual skirmish of a few soldiers of the Koreish with a detachment of his soldiers gave the necessary excuse, and he at once charged the Koreish with having broken the truce. They were anxious to make overtures of peace, but Mohammed would listen to nothing.
All saw plainly that no concessions would conciliate a conqueror thus bent upon hostility, and the attitude of Mecca became that of a patient waiting, a dread looking for a surely impending calamity ready to fall at any hour.
And yet, when it did come, the Meccans were not expecting it, so silent, so sudden was the swoop of the conqueror. Every road leading to Mecca was barred by Mohammed, so that none might tell of his plans. All his allies received a mysterious summons to meet him at a point some distance from Mecca, and they came none the less readily that they did not know why they were thus assembled.
With a host of ten thousand men, Mohammed set out over the barren plains, and through the defiles of the mountains. Like a vast funeral procession the long train wound its way in a silence broken only by the dull tread of the beasts and the whispered ejaculations of the soldiers. In the night they reached the appointed valley. Lines of men came pouring in from every side, and at last, as a signal to all the rest, Omar, the chief in command, gave the order that the watch-fires be lighted,—and at once every summit sent up its spire of flame.
The citizens of Mecca were stricken with awe.
"I myself will go and see what this means," said Abu Sofian; and with a single companion he set out over the hills. As they stood in sight of the great host below, the step of men sounded near them. They were seized as spies, and hurried off to the tent of Omar.
The bright light of Omar's camp-fire revealed the white hair and flashing eye of the grim old warrior.
"By the prophet of Allah! Ye have brought in a rich prize!" exclaimed Omar, and his dagger flashed in the firelight as he drew it to plunge into Abu Sofian's bosom. But deliverance was near. Out from the darkness galloped Al Abbas, uncle of Mohammed, mounted on the prophet's white mule. He caught the Meccan up with him, and hastened off to the tent of the prophet.
"Ha!" exclaimed Mohammed, "you have come at last, Abu Sofian, to acknowledge the supremacy of the prophet of Allah?"
"I come," said Abu Sofian surlily, "to beg mercy for my people."
"Will you, then, acknowledge Mohammed as the prophet of God? Do this, Abu Sofian, and thy life shall be spared, and terms of peace granted to all Meccans who are willing to follow their leader's example."
Abu Sofian gave a surly assent, and was set free. Favorable terms for the inhabitants of the city were then presented to him; and, that he might be able to take back with him a full account of the strength of the prophet's army, he was placed with Al Abbas at the head of a narrow defile, through which the whole army, with fluttering banners and proudly flapping standards, passed before him.
Even the stern old warrior stood aghast at the mighty multitude. He returned to the city, and, from the roof of the Caaba, once more assembled the people of Mecca. Then, while they listened, with bowed heads and heaving sobs, he told them of the great host, of the uselessness of resistance, and of the terms offered in case of submission. To this course, humiliating as it was, he strongly urged them. Silent in despair, or weeping wildly, they returned to their homes, and that night the darkness which fell seemed like a pall upon the stricken city.
"One murder made a villain; millions, a hero."—Porteus.
"One murder made a villain; millions, a hero."—Porteus.
Upon the following morning ere the sun rose, a deputation was sent to the prophet to inform him that his terms had been accepted.
The people of Mecca were curious to note the triumphant entrance of the great conqueror. Many, indeed, threw themselves upon their faces in agony of lost hope; but the housetops swarmed with people, and the side of Abu Kubays was moving with a dense crowd of women and children, who, at a safe distance, watched for the strange pageant.
The prophet was allowed to enter the borders of the town unmolested, but when the deserter, Khaled Ibn Waled, appeared, the rage of the Koreish knew no bounds; a howl of derision arose, and an ungovernable mob fired straight upon him with their arrows. Khaled dashed upon them with sword and lance, but Mohammed, noting the commotion, rode up and ordered him to desist.
The mêlée subsided, and, just as the sun rose over Abu Kubays, the conqueror entered the city. He was habited in scarlet, and mounted upon a large Syrian camel; and, as he rode, followed by the whole host of his army, he repeated aloud passages from the Koran.
Straight on towards the Caaba he went, looking neither to right nor to left. Its gates were thrown open before him, and the vast procession, with the prophet at its head, performed Tawaf about the temple. Then, ere the mighty trampling ceased, Mohammed entered the Caaba—that Caaba in which he had been spat upon and covered with mud thrown by derisive hands. Little wonder that he felt his triumph complete!
Three hundred and sixty idols still stared from the walls of the temple, and, ere night fell, not an image remained to pollute an edifice in which, if in ever so blind a manner, the name of the living God had been once mentioned.
Mohammed then took his stand upon the little hill Al Safa, and gave the command that every man, woman, and child in Mecca, save those detained by illness, should pass before him.
Kedar found his weakness a sufficient reason for remaining at home, but Yusuf, Amzi, and Manasseh were forced to join the long procession.
One by one, the inhabitants knelt before the victor, renouncing idolatry and declaring their fealty to him as their governor and spiritual head. But a few among the Christian Jews refused to acknowledge him as the prophet of God.
"As conqueror we accept you," they said; "as subjects we will obey you in all that does not interfere with our worship of the true God, and his Son, the Christ. But as Mohammed prophet of God, we will not acknowledge you."
The prophet, however, was in a lenient frame of mind. At no time a cruel tyrant when victory was once assured, he was still less inclined to be so upon a day when everything augured so favorably for the future. Moreover, when it seemed to him practicable, Mohammed delighted in showing mercy. This trait is but one of the incomprehensible features of his strange, contradictory character.
"So be it," he returned, graciously. "I give you your lives and property. They are a gift from the prophet ye despise. Yet, lest ye be stirrers up of sedition, I enjoin you to leave the city with what expedition ye will. Go where ye please, provided it be out of my dominions; take what time ye need to settle your affairs, and dispose of your property; then, in the name of Allah, I bid you good speed."
The Jews, among them Yusuf and Amzi, passed thankfully on. A tall, gaunt, Bedouin woman, with flashing eyes and hands showing like the claws of a vulture beneath her black robe, came next. It was Henda in disguise.
"What!" exclaimed the prophet, with a smile, "has Abu Sofian taken to the hills again, that his wife thus comes in Bedouin garb?"
Henda, seeing that her disguise was penetrated, fell at his feet imploring for pardon.
"I forgive you freely," he said, raising her to her feet. "You will now acknowledge your prophet?"
"Never!" cried the Koreish woman.
"Boldly said!" returned Mohammed. "The wife of Abu Sofian doth not readily follow in the path of her master. He has trained her but poorly. Yet, go in peace, O daughter of the Koreish, and know that the prophet of Islam has a merciful heart."
Thus passed the whole long day until the stars shone through the blue; and Mohammed went to rest, serene in his triumph, yet troubled by bodily pain, for, ever since he had eaten the poisoned mutton at Khaïbar, his health had been steadily declining.
In a few days he returned to Medina. A fresh revelation of the Koran, commending fully his doctrine of the sword, was there proclaimed from the mosque; and to Khaled was given the task of subjugating the remaining tribes.
The prophet's health now began to give way rapidly, and he resolved upon a last pilgrimage to the holy city. In the month Ramadhan, at the head of one hundred thousand men, the mightiest expedition he had ever led, he started for Mecca. He rode in a litter, and about him were his nine wives, also seated in litters; while, at the rear of the procession, trudged a great array of camels destined for sacrifice, and gayly decorated with ribbons and flowers.
About a day's journey from Mecca, at twilight, the vast host met the troops of Ali, returning from an expedition into Yemen, and these immediately turned with the pilgrimage. It was a weird and impressive scene. In the night, the augmented host now pressed onward, with increased impatience, over a plain strewn with basaltic drift. The soft thud of padded feet sounded over the hard ground. Huge camels loomed shapelessly through the uncertain haze. No voice of mirth or singing arose from the vast assemblage, but the night-wind sighed through the ribs of the scant-leaved acacias above, and stooped to blow the red flames of the torches back in a smoky glare; while, here and there, a more pretentious light, issuing from between the curtains of a shugduf, shed a passing gleam upon the dusky faces of the pilgrims, plodding like eerie genii of the night over the barren wilds.
Next morning, the host reached Mecca. The prophet once more entered the sacred court-yard of the temple, and was borne sadly about the Caaba in Tawaf. Then, weak as he was, he insisted upon taking part in the sacrificial ceremony. With his own hand he slew sixty-three camels, one for each year of his life. Then he ascended the pulpit and preached to the people.
Upon his return to Medina, he preached again from the mosque, enjoining upon the faithful strict compliance with the form of worship set forth in the Koran and by the example of the prophet—the giving of alms; prayer towards the kebla; the performance of Tawaf, and ablutions at Zem-Zem; prostration prayers at the Caaba, and all the rites of pilgrimage. Thus did Mohammed formulate the rules for the future guidance of the Moslem world.
Once more the shades of night hung over the Eastern world. And there, while the hush of slumber fell upon the hills of the North, the cities of the South awoke to life and bustle, for during the earlier half of the hours of darkness the Oriental awakes from the lethargy of the day, and really begins to live. The moon, almost at full, and glowing like a silver orb on a purple sea, rose slowly over the black top of Abu Kubays, tipping its crest with a shimmering line of light, and throwing its radiance across the vale below, where all lay shapeless in shade save the top of the huge temple, which, with its pall-like kiswah (curtain), arose like a bier above the low houses about it. Upon it the moonbeams fell with solemn, white light, and the young man standing alone by one of the pillars of the portico felt a thrill of awe as he looked upon the mysterious structure, and thought of the great antiquity of the institution.
For the moment, lost in contemplation, he was oblivious to the swarming of the dusky multitudes now pouring into the court-yard on all sides. Then, as the increasing hum fell upon his ears, he gave them his attention. It was the scene of which he had so often heard, and upon which he now looked for the first time. There were the people at Tawaf, walking, running, or standing with upturned eyes, sanctimoniously repeating passages of the Koran; there were the frantic few clinging to the great folds of the kiswah, as though its contact procured for them eternal salvation; there were the crowds gulping down copious draughts of the brackish water of Zem-Zem, or pouring it upon their heads.
There, too, within a stone's throw of the temple, were the busy stalls of the venders, whence issued cries of:
"Cucumbers! Cucumbers O!"
"Grapes! Grapes!—luscious and juicywith the crystal dews of Tayf! Grapes, O faithful!"
"Who will buy cloth of Damascus, rich and fit for a king? Come, buy thy lady a veil! Buy a veil to screen her charms blooming as the rosy light of morn, to screen her hair black as midnight shades on the hills of Nejd, and her eyes sparkling like diamonds of Oman!"
"O water! Precious water from Zem-Zem! Water to wash away thy sin, and help thee into Paradise! O believer, buy water of Zem-Zem!"
And there, beneath the twinkling lights of the portico, sat a group of Abyssinian girls, waiting to be sold as slaves.
As the youth looked upon it all with no little curiosity he observed the crowd give way before a man clothed wholly in white, who proceeded directly to the Caaba and, pausing beneath the door, gave utterance to a loud prayer, while the people about fell prostrate on the ground. Then, in a loud voice, he commanded that the stair be brought. Attendants hastened to roll the bulky structure into its place, and the priest, or guardian of the temple, ascended, and received from his attendants several buckets of water which he carried into the edifice.
Presently, small streams began to trickle from the doorway, and the guardian's white vestments again appeared, as he proceeded to sweep the water out, dashing it far over the steps. The people rushed beneath it, crowding over one another in their anxiety holding their upturned faces towards it and counting themselves blessed if a drop of it fell upon them. It was the ceremony of washing the Caaba.