YEZDEGIRD SUCCEEDS TO THE THRONE OF PERSIA.--BATTLE
OF CADESIYA.
A.H. XIV. A.D. 635.
[Sidenote: Profuseness of tradition regarding field of Câdesîya.]
The desperate field of Câdesîya has been described to us with almost as
profuse detail as the leading battles of the the Prophet. The length
and severity of the contest, its memorable results, and the proximity
of the ground to Kûfa, made it a favourite topic of discourse at that
grand centre of tradition. Hence the prolixity. We shall follow the
outline only of the story, avoiding the detail with which it has been
overlaid.
[Sidenote: Yezdegird made king of Persia. A.H. XIII. December, A.D.
634.]
We left Mothanna, after the battle of Boweib, ravaging at pleasure the
terror-stricken coasts of Chaldæa. In the alternations of war, another
wave from the opposite quarter was about to sweep over that unhappy
land. A new movement was taking place at Medâin. The Persian nobles,
scandalised at the weakness of Rustem and the feeble Queen, began to
cry out that he was dragging the empire down to ruin. The ladies of
the court were assembled to inquire whether any king might not yet
be discovered of the royal blood. At last there was found Yezdegird,
saved as a child from the massacre of Siroes, and now a youth of
twenty-one.[248] He was placed upon the throne. Around the young King
the nobles rallied loyally, and something of the old fire of the empire
was rekindled. Troops were gathered, Mesopotamia was reoccupied, and
the cities as far as Hîra and the desert strongly garrisoned.
[Sidenote: Mothanna forced to fall back. Dzul Cáda, A.H. XIII. January,
A.D. 635.]
The inhabitants returned to their ancient allegiance; and Mothanna,
finding the whole Sawâd in arms, and his diminished army unable to cope
with the rising, again withdrew, and concentrated his troops behind
the Euphrates. He sent an urgent message, telling of the new perils
threatening him, to Omar. The danger was met bravely by the Caliph.
‘I swear by the Lord,’ he cried, when the tidings reached him, ‘that
I will smite down the princes of Persia with the sword of the princes
of Arabia.’ It was clearly impossible to hold any part of Mesopotamia
or the delta of the Euphrates, so long as they were dominated close at
hand by the court of Persia on the banks of the Tigris. The capital
must be taken at any cost, and an army large enough gathered for the
purpose. [Sidenote: Omar orders another levy _en masse_.]Orders, more
stringent even than those before, went forth (as we have already
seen) for a new and universal levy. ‘Hasten to me,’ he wrote in all
directions, ‘hasten speedily!’ And forthwith Arabia resounded again
with the call to arms. The troops from the south were to gather before
the Caliph at Medîna; those nearer to Syria, the demand being urgent
and time precious, were to march straight to Mothanna. [Sidenote: Dzul
Hijj. A.H. XIII. February, A.D. 635.] This much arranged, Omar set
out on the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. On his return, he repaired to
the rendezvous at Jorf, where the contingents as they came in were
marshalled. In a council of war, it was debated whether the Caliph, as
he proposed, and as the people wished, should in person lead the army
to Irâc. The chief ‘Companions’ were against it.[249] Defeat, if Omar
were on the field of battle, might be fatal; but seated at Medîna, even
under the worst disaster he could launch column after column on the
enemy. Omar yielded; and, whatever may have been his real intention
the show of readiness to bear the heat and burden of the day imparted a
new impulse of enthusiasm to the army.
[Sidenote: Sád appointed commander in Irâc.]
Who now should be the leader of this great army in Irâc? Mothanna
and Jarîr, already there, were but Bedouin chieftains. None but a
peer could take command of the Companions and Nobles of the land now
flocking to the field. The matter was being discussed in an assembly,
when at the moment there came a despatch from Sád son of Abu Wackkâs,
the Caliph’s lieutenant with the Beni Hawâzin, reporting the levy
of a thousand good lances from that tribe. ‘Here is the man!’ cried
those around. ‘Who?’ asked the Caliph. ‘None but the _Ravening
Lion_,’[250] was the answer; ‘Sád, the son of Mâlik.’ The choice was
sealed by acclamation; and so, Omar immediately summoned Sád. Converted
at Mecca while yet a boy, the new Ameer of Irâc was now forty years
of age. He is known as ‘the first who drew blood in Islam,’ and was a
noted archer in the Prophet’s wars. He took rank also as the nephew
of Mahomet’s mother. Short and dark, with large head and shaggy hair,
Sád was brave, but not well-favoured. The Caliph gave him such advice
as the momentous issues of the campaign demanded, and warned him not
to trust to his extraction. ‘The Lord,’ he said, ‘looketh to merit and
good works, not to birth; for in His sight all men are equal.’[251]
Thus admonished, Sád set out for Irâc, with 4,000 men, the first-fruits
of the new levy. As a rule, they marched now with their women and
children.
As the levies kept coming in, Omar sent them on, one after another,
to join Sád. [Sidenote: Sád marches to Irâc and encamps on the border
of the desert.]The numbers swelling rapidly embraced the chivalry of
Arabia. Toleiha, the _quondam_ prophet, now an exemplary believer,
and Amr ibn Mádekerib, went in command of their respective tribes, the
Beni Asad and Zobeid; and Omar wrote that each chief was himself worth
a thousand men. Al Asháth, also, head of the Beni Kinda, the apostate
rebel of the south, now joined the army with a column of his tribe
from Yemen.[252] Indeed, Omar, we are told, ‘left not a single person
of any note or dignity in the land, whether warrior, poet, orator, or
chieftain, nor any man possessed of horse or weapons, but he sent him
off to Irâc.’ Thus reinforced, Sád found himself at the head of 20,000
men; and when the column ordered back from Syria returned, the numbers
were over 30,000--by far the largest force yet mustered by the Arabs on
the plains of Chaldæa.[253] The troops now marching on Irâc, and those
that had been commanded by Mothanna, drew all together at Sherâf, on
the borders of the desert, fifteen or twenty miles to the south of Hîra.
[Sidenote: Death of Mothanna. Safar, A.H. XIV. April, A.D. 635.]
Before Sád reached the rendezvous, Mothanna had passed away. Omar
entirely approved his having withdrawn from Mesopotamia, to the right
bank of the Euphrates, and there rallied the Bedouin tribes along
the lower waters skirting the desert.[254] This was all the more
necessary, as the court of Persia was then endeavouring to detach the
great tribe of the Beni Bekr ibn Wâil by an appeal to their ancient
alliance with the house of Hîra. Moänna, brother of Mothanna, had just
returned from a mission to this (his own) tribe, and had succeeded in
frustrating the attempt. Bearing intelligence of this success, as well
as the melancholy tidings of his brother’s death, he went out to meet
Sád on his march. He communicated also his brother’s dying message to
the new commander, advising that the Arabs should hold to their ground
on the confines of the desert. ‘Fight there the enemy’ were the last
words of Mothanna;--‘Ye will be the victors; and, even if worsted, ye
will still have the friendly and familiar desert wastes behind: there
the Persians cannot enter, and from thence ye will again return to the
attack.’ Sád, as he received the message, blessed the memory of the
great general. He also made the family he had left his special care;
and, the more effectually to discharge the trust, as well as to mark
his estimate of the man, he, in true Arab fashion, took to wife his
widow Selma.
[Sidenote: Sád marshals his troops in new order.]
The army was marshalled by Sád anew. Companies were formed of ten,
each under a selected leader. Warriors of note were appointed to
bear the standards. Columns and battalions were made up by clans and
tribes; and so by clans and tribes they marched, and also went into
the field of battle. Departments also were established for the several
services incident to a campaign.[255] The chief commands were all
given to veterans, who had fought under the Prophet’s banner; for in
this army there were no fewer than 1,400 Companions, and ninety-nine
who had fought at Bedr.[256] Following Mothanna’s counsel, which was
confirmed by Omar, Sád marched slowly to Odzeib, still on the border
of the desert. [Sidenote: Encamps at Câdesîya. A.H. XIV. Summer,
A.D. 635.]Leaving the women and children there under protection of a
squadron of horse, he advanced to Câdesîya. Here was a great plain
washed on its eastern side by the ‘old’ Euphrates,[257] and bounded
on the west by the _Khandac_, or Trench of Sapor (in those days a
running stream), with the desert beyond. The plain was traversed by a
road from the south, which here crossed the river by a bridge of boats
leading to Hîra, and onwards across the peninsula to Medâin. Such was
the field on which the great battle was to be fought that would settle
the fate of Persia. Sád, keeping still to the western bank of the Great
River, fixed his head-quarters at Codeis, a small fortress overlooking
the stream a little way below the bridge. He had thus the great plain
behind him on which to deploy his troops, with the river in front, and
the _Khandac_ and desert in his rear. Here encamped, the army awaited
patiently the enemy’s approach.
[Sidenote: Yezdegird, impatient at the ravages of the Arabs, orders
advance.]
Rustem sought to play the same waiting game; but the King grew
impatient. The Arabs, from their standing camp, made continual raids
across the river into Mesopotamia, and as far north as Anbâr. The
castles of the nobles were attacked, and their pleasure-grounds laid
waste. A marriage procession fell into the hands of one of these
parties near Hîra, and the bride, a satrap’s daughter, was carried,
with her train of maids and wedding trousseau, captive to the camp.
Herds were driven from the fens and pastures of the delta, to supply
the army; for the forays were meant at once to furnish food, and to
punish such as had thrown off their allegiance to the Moslems. The
people were clamorous; and the great landholders at last gave notice to
the court that if help were delayed, they must go over to the enemy.
Moved by their cries, Yezdegird turned a deaf ear to Rustem, and
insisted on an immediate advance.[258]
[Sidenote: Yezdegird summoned by a deputation of Arab chiefs to embrace
Islam.]
Meanwhile, Sád maintained a constant correspondence with the Caliph,
who now called for a description of the country. ‘Câdesîya,’ Sád told
him in reply, ‘lay between the Trench of Sapor and the river; in front
of the army was the deep stream, which on the left meandered through
a verdant vale towards the town of Hîra; a canal led up in the same
direction to the lake of Najaf, on the margin of which stood the
palace of Khawarnac. His right was guarded by an impassable swamp,
and his rear rested on the _Khandac_ and the desert.’[259] Omar,
satisfied with his general’s report, enjoined upon him vigilance and
patience. But first, he said, Yezdegird must be summoned to embrace the
Faith at the peril of his kingdom. With this commission, a party of
twenty warriors, chosen for their commanding mien, crossed the plain
and presented themselves at the gates of Medâin.[260] As they were
led to the royal presence, the rabble crowded around, and jeered at
the rough habit of the Arabs, clad in striped Yemen stuff, and armed
with the rude weapons of the desert, all contrasting strangely with
the courtly splendour of the regal city. ‘Look!’ they cried mocking,
‘look at the woman’s distaff,’ meaning the Bedouin bow slung over the
shoulder, little thinking of the havoc it was soon to make in their
crowded ranks. As the Chiefs entered the precincts of the palace, the
prancing and champing of the beautiful steeds, and the wild bearing
of the stalwart riders, struck awe into the heart of the king and
his effeminate nobles. Yezdegird demanded, through an interpreter,
wherefore, thus unprovoked, they had dared to invade his kingdom.
One after another the Arabian spokesmen told him of the Prophet who
had wrought a mighty change in their land, and they explained to him
the nature of Islam, its blessings and its obligations. ‘Embrace the
Faith,’ they said, ‘and thou shalt be even as one of us; or, if thou
wilt, pay tribute, and come under our protection; which things if thou
shalt refuse, the days of thy kingdom are numbered.’ The king replied
contemptuously: ‘Ye are naught, ye are naught! hungry adventurers from
a naked land; come, I will give you a morsel, and ye shall depart full
and content.’ The Arabs replied in strong but modest words. ‘Thou
speakest truth. We are poor and hungry; but the Lord will enrich and
satisfy us. Thou hast chosen the sword; and between us shall the sword
decide.’ The king’s wrath was kindled. ‘If it were not,’ he cried,
‘that ye are ambassadors, ye should have been put to death, all of
you. Bring hither a clod of earth, and let the mightiest among them
bear it as a burden from out the city gates.’ The Arabs embraced the
happy augury. Asim forthwith seized the load, and binding it over his
shoulders, mounted his charger and rode away. Rustem coming up at that
moment, the king told him of the affront he had put upon the simple
Arabs. ‘Simple!’ cried Rustem, ‘it is thou that art simple;’ and he
sent in haste to get the burden back again: but Asim was already far
away with his treasure. Hastening to Câdesîya, he cast the clod before
his chief, and exclaimed, ‘Rejoice, O Sád! for, lo, the Lord hath given
thee of the soil of Persia!’[261]
[Sidenote: Rustem, with immense host, marches from Medâin,]
Rustem could now no longer delay the campaign. Elephants, cavalry, and
soldiers had been gathered from every quarter to swell the host. He set
out at the head of an army 120,000 strong.[262] But he still delayed,
marching slowly and unwillingly. The auguries, drawn from astrology
and divination, all boded some great disaster. But he cherished the
hope that the Arabs, pinched in their supplies, might, as in days
of old, break up and disappear; or, at any rate, that, wearied with
the suspense, they might be drawn from their strong position across
the river. After many weeks’ delay upon the road, he passed over the
Euphrates below Babylon, and encamped under the ruined pile of Birs
Nimrûd. [Sidenote: and encamps opposite the Arabs. A.H. XIV. October,
A.D. 635.]Advancing on Hîra, he chided the people for siding with the
Arabs; they replied with justice, that, deserted by their King, they
had no resource left them but to bow before the invaders. At last,
having whiled away four months from the time of starting, Rustem,
passing Najaf, came within sight of the Moslem force, and pitched his
camp on the opposite bank of the river.
[Sidenote: Moslem army restrained by Sád.]
During this long period of inaction, the impatience of the Arabs was,
not without difficulty, checked by the strong hand of Sád, to whom as
Ameer, and lieutenant of the supreme Ameer, the Moslems were bound to
yield implicit obedience. Excepting raids and reconnoitring expeditions
nothing was attempted. Some of these, however, were sufficiently
daring and exciting. On one occasion, Toleiha, the _quondam_
prophet, entered by night the enemy’s camp alone, and cutting the
ropes of a tent, carried off three horses. Hotly pursued, he slew his
pursuers one after another, excepting the last; who, seized by Toleiha
single-handed, and carried off a prisoner, embraced Islam, and fought
ever after faithfully by his captor’s side.[263] As the enemy drew
near, the Moslem host lay couched like the tiger in its lair, ready for
the fatal spring.
[Sidenote: Rustem obtains truce for three days.]
The contending armies being now face to face, Rustem had no longer
excuse for putting off the decisive day. On the morning after his
arrival he rode along the river bank to reconnoitre; and, standing on
an eminence by the bridge, sent for Zohra, who with the foremost column
was guarding the passage. A colloquy ensued; and Sád consented that
an embassy proceeding to the Persian camp, should there set forth his
demands. Three envoys, one after another, repaired to Rustem. All held
the same language: _Islam_, _Tribute_, or the _Sword_. The Persian, now
contemptuous in his abuse, now cowering under the fierce threats of the
envoys, and scared (as we are to believe) by his dreams and auguries,
at last demanded time to consider. Three days’ grace, they replied, was
the limit of delay which their Prophet allowed for choice; and that was
given.[264]
[Sidenote: Rustem throws a dam over the river,]
When the term was over, Rustem (as was common in that day) sent to
inquire whether he or they should cross the river for battle. Strongly
pitched, his rear resting on the trench of Sapor, flanked by Codeis and
by a morass, and with the river in front, Sád had no thought of moving;
and he bade the Persian cross as best he might. Rustem advanced, but
passage was denied. All night the Arabs watched the bridge. But Rustem
had another scheme; he meant to cross the river by a dam. During the
night his myrmidons cast fascines and earth into the channel, and the
morning light discovered a causeway over which it was possible to pass.
[Sidenote: and crosses.]
As soon as it was day, Rustem, clad in helmet and double suit of mail,
leaped gaily, as it would seem, upon his horse. ‘By the morrow we shall
have beaten them small,’ he cried.[265] But apart with his familiars
he confessed that celestial omens were against him. And, indeed,
previous mishaps, and the brave bearing of the Arab chiefs, were
sufficient--astrology apart--to inspire grave forebodings. Crossing
the dam unopposed, he marshalled his great host on the western bank,
with the centre facing the fortress of Codeis. There were thirty war
elephants in the field; eighteen were posted with the centre, and the
remainder under Jalenûs and Firuzân with the wings.[266] A canopy
covering a golden throne was pitched for Rustem by the river side; and,
seated there, he watched the issue of the day. Messengers posted within
earshot of one another the whole way from the battle-field to Medâin,
shouted continually the latest news, and kept Yezdegird informed of all
that passed.
[Sidenote: Sád disabled by illness, marshals the army from the ramparts
of Codeis.]
As the Persians began to cross, the advanced guard of the Arabs
fell back on Codeis, beneath which the main body was drawn up. On
the rampart of the fortress, Sád, disabled by blains and boils, lay
stretched upon a litter; from whence casting down his orders inscribed
on scraps of paper, he guided thus the movements of the army. The
troops, unused to see their leader, at such a moment, in a place of
safety, murmured; and verses lampooning him were soon in the mouth
of everyone. That he, the archer of renown, and the ‘first to shed
blood in Islam,’ should be thus aspersed was insupportable, and Sád
accordingly had the ringleaders seized and imprisoned in the fortress.
He then descended, and discovered to the troops the grievous malady
which rendered it impossible for him even to sit upright, much less
to mount his horse. They accepted his excuse; for no man could doubt
his bravery; but still a certain feeling of discontent survived.[267]
Resuming his recumbent posture, he harangued the army from the
battlements, and then he sent his chief captains, with the orators
and poets that accompanied his force, along the ranks to rouse their
martial spirit.
[Sidenote: Sura _Jehâd_ recited before the army.]
At the head of every column, as a preparation for the battle, was
recited the Sura Jehâd, with the stirring story of the thousand angels
that fought on the Prophet’s side at Bedr, and such hortatory texts
as these:--‘_Stir up the Faithful unto battle. If there be twenty
steadfast among you, they shall put to flight two hundred of the
Unbelievers, and a hundred shall put to flight a thousand. Victory
cometh from the Lord alone; He is mighty and wise. I will cast terror
into the hearts of the Infidels. Strike off their heads, and their
fingers’ ends. Beware that ye turn not your back in battle. Verily
he that turneth his back shall draw down upon him the wrath of God.
His abode shall be Hell-fire; an evil journey thither._’[268] The
mention of the great day of ‘DECISION’ at Bedr, with the
Divine command to fight, never failed to fire the souls of the Moslem
host. And here we are told that upon the recital ‘the heart of the
people was refreshed, and their eyes lightened, and they felt the
Tranquillity that followeth thereupon.’
[Sidenote: BATTLE OF CÂDESÎYA.]
The word was then passed round. Till the midday prayer, no one should
stir. [Sidenote: Ramadhân A.H. XIV. November, A.D. 635.] The Ameer
would give the first signal by proclaiming the Takbîr, _Great is the
Lord!_ and the whole host would then take up the shout from him.
[Sidenote: I. Day, called _Armâth_.[269]]At the second and third
Takbîr, they were to gird their weapons on, and make ready their
horses for action. At the fourth, the ranks were to rush in one body
forward with the battle-cry, _Our help is from the Lord!_ The order
was deranged by the enemy, who, hearing the shouts, advanced upon the
third Takbîr; whereupon several warriors from the Moslem front stepped
forward, and challenging the enemy to single combat, did prodigies of
valour. We are reminded of the similar feats at Bedr; only the spoil,
stripped from the fallen champions here, was rich beyond comparison.
Thus, Amr ibn Mádekerib carried off triumphantly the bracelets and
jewelled girdle of a princely victim. Ghâlib, of the Beni Asad,
advanced, shouting gaily--
The maid, with hanging tresses,
Milk-white breast and fingers tapering,
Knows that when the battle waxeth hot,
I am he that lays the warriors low.
Singing thus, he closed with Hormuz, ‘a prince of the Gate,’ and,
spoiling him of his armour, bore him, along with his diadem, a captive
to Sád. Asim, leader of the Beni Temîm, singing a like war-song,
pursued his adversary right into the enemy’s ranks; there he seized a
mule-driver, and carried him off with his laden beast to the Moslem
lines; it was the king’s baker with a load of his choicest viands. More
remarkable still is the story of Abu Mihjan the Thâckifite. He was a
ringleader in the detraction of Sád, and his offence was aggravated by
drunkenness. Bound as a prisoner in the fort, under charge of Selma,
he was seized by an irrepressible ardour to join the battle. At his
earnest entreaty, and under pledge of an early return, she set him
free, and mounted him on her husband’s white mare. An unknown figure,
he dashed in circuits, now into and now around the enemy’s host,
performing marvels of bravery. Some thought it might be the chief of
the Syrian contingent, expected that day. Others opined that it was Al
Khizr, precursor of the angelic band. But Sád said, ‘If it were not
that Abu Mihjan is safe in durance under Selma’s care, I would take an
oath that it were he, and the mare my own.’ According to promise, the
hero, satisfied with his exploits, returned to Selma, who reimposed his
fetters as before, securing, shortly after, his release.[270] But now
the elephants bore down upon the Bedouin lines. The brunt of the onset
fell upon the Beni Bajîla. The horrid sight of huge beasts swaying to
and fro,--‘the _howdas_, manned with warriors and banners, like
unto moving castles,’--affrighted the Arab horses, and they broke away
in terror. At Sád’s command the Beni Asad diverted the attack upon
themselves; but in the heroic act they left four hundred dead upon the
field. Then the elephants attacked the wings, spreading consternation
all around; and the enemy, profiting by the confusion, pressed
forward. The position was now critical; and Sád, as a last resource,
bade Asim to rid them from the danger at whatever cost. At once that
gallant chief chose from the Beni Temîm a band of archers and of agile
skirmishers, who, drawing near, picked off the riders one by one, and
boldly cut the girths. The howdas fell, and the great beasts, with none
to guide them, fled. Thus relieved, the Arabs regained their ground.
But the shades of darkness were falling, and both armies retired for
the night.
[Sidenote: Sád upbraided by his wife.]
The Moslem force was downcast. The uncertain issue added point to the
invectives of Sád’s accusers, and, what was still harder for him to
bear, the reproaches of Selma. As during the day, seated by her lord,
they watched the lines swaying in deadly conflict to and fro, she
exclaimed bitterly, ‘O for an hour of Mothanna! Alas, alas, there is
no Mothanna to-day!’ Stung by the taunt, Sád struck her on the face,
and pointing to Asim and his band, said, ‘What of Mothanna? Is he to be
compared with these?’ ‘Jealousy and cowardice!’ cried the high-spirited
dame, faithful to her first husband’s memory. ‘Not so, by any means,’
said Sád somewhat softened; ‘I swear that no man will this day excuse
me if thou dost not, who seest in what plight I lie.’ The people sided
with the lady; but (tradition adds) Sád was no coward, and he lived the
contumely down.
[Sidenote: II. Day, called _Aghwâth_.]
The morning was occupied with the wounded and the dead; and the day was
advanced before fighting was resumed. Just then the first column of the
Syrian contingent came in view. It was led by Cacâa, a host in himself,
who hurried forward with a thousand men, leaving Hâshim to bring up
the main body of five thousand more, the following day. By a skilful
disposition Cacâa magnified his force, in the eyes both of friend and
foe. He arranged his men in bands of a hundred, each following at a
little distance behind the other. Advancing, he saluted Sád and his
comrades, and bade them joy of the coming help. Then calling upon the
rest to follow, he at once rode forth to defy the enemy. Dzul Hâjib,
the hero of _the Bridge_, accepted the challenge. Cacâa recognised
his foe; and crying out, ‘Now will I avenge Abu Obeid and those that
perished at the Bridge,’ rushed on his man and cut him lifeless to the
ground. As each of Cacâa’s squadrons came up, it charged with all the
appearance of a fresh and independent column across the plain in sight
of both armies, shouting the Takbîr, which was answered by the same
ringing cheer, _Allah Akbar_, from the Moslem line. The spirits
of the Arabs rose, and they forgot the disasters of yesterday. Equally
the heart of the Persians sank. These saw their heroes slain, one
after another, at the hands of Cacâa and his fellows.[271] They had no
elephants this day, for their gear was not yet repaired. Pressed on all
sides, their horse gave way, and Rustem was only saved by a desperate
rally. The Persian infantry, however, stood their ground, and the day
closed with the issue still trembling in the balance. The fighting was
severe and the carnage great. Two thousand Moslems lay dead or wounded
on the field, and ten thousand Persians. All night through the Arabs
kept shouting the names and lineage of their several tribes. There was
shouting, too, in the Persian camp. And so, encouraging themselves,
each side awaited the final struggle.[272]
[Sidenote: III. Day, called _Ghimâs_.]
On the third morning, the army was again engaged in the mournful task
of removing their fallen comrades from the field. The space of a mile
between the two lines was strewn with them. [Sidenote: Burial of the
dead.]The wounded were made over to the women to nurse, if perchance
they might survive--or rather, in the language of Islam--‘until the
Lord should decide whether to grant, or to withhold from them, the
crown of martyrdom.’ The dead were borne to a valley in the rear
towards Odzeib, where the women and children hastily dug graves for
them in the sandy soil. The wounded, too, were carried to the rear.
For the suffering sick it was a weary passage under the burning sun. A
solitary palm-tree stood on the way, and under its welcome shade they
were laid for a moment as they passed by. Its memory is consecrated in
such plaintive verse as this:
Hail to the grateful palm that waves between Câdesîya and Odzeib.
By thy side are the wild sprigs of camomile and hyssop.
May dew and shower water thy leaves beyond all others.
Let there never want a palm-tree in thy scorching plain!
[Sidenote: Fighting resumed. Arrival of Syrian troops.]
A day and a night of unceasing conflict were still before the
combatants. The spirit of the Persians, whose dead troops lay unburied
on the field, flagged at the disasters of the preceding day. But much
was looked for from the elephants, which, now refitted, appeared anew
upon the field, each protected by a company of horse and foot. The
battle was about to open, when suddenly Hâshim came up with the main
body of the Syrian troops. Sweeping across the plain, he charged right
into the enemy, pierced their ranks, and having reached the river
bank, turned and rode triumphantly back, amidst shouts of welcome. The
fighting was again severe, and the day balanced by alternate victory
and repulse. Yezdegird, alive to the crisis, sent his own body-guard
into the field. The elephants were the terror of the Arabs, and again
threatened to paralyse their efforts. [Sidenote: The elephants put to
flight.]In this emergency, Sád had recourse to Cacâa, who was achieving
marvels, and had already slain thirty Persians in single combat; so
that the annalists gratefully acknowledge, ‘if it had not been for what
the Lord put it into the heart of Cacâa to do, we had surely in that
great battle been discomfited.’[273] Sád learned from some Persian
refugees that the eye and trunk were the only vulnerable parts of
the elephant: ‘Aim at these,’ he said, ‘and we shall be rid of this
calamity.’ So Cacâa took his brother Asim, and a band of followers as
a forlorn hope, and issued on the perilous undertaking. There were
two great elephants, the leaders of the herd. Dismounting, they boldly
advanced towards these, and into the eye of one, the ‘great White
elephant,’ Cacâa succeeded in thrusting his lance. Smarting at the
pain, it shook fearfully its head, threw the mahout, and swaying its
trunk with great force, hurled Cacâa to a distance. The other fared
still worse, for they pierced both its eyes, and slashed its trunk.
Uttering a shrill scream of agony, blinded and maddened, it darted
forward on the Arab ranks. Shouts and lances drove it back upon the
Persians. And so they kept it rushing wildly to and fro between the
armies. At last, followed by the other elephants, it charged right into
the Persian line; and so the whole herd of huge animals,--their trunks
raised aloft, trumpeting as they rushed by, and trampling all before
them,--plunged into the river and disappeared on the farther shore. For
the moment the din of war was hushed as both armies gazed transfixed
at the portentous spectacle. But soon the battle was resumed, and they
fought on till evening, when darkness again closed on the combatants
with the issue still in doubt.
[Sidenote: The Night of Clangour.]
The third night brought rest to neither side. It was a struggle for
life. At first there was a pause, as the light faded away; and Sád,
fearing lest the vast host should overlap his rear, sent Amr and
Toleiha with parties to watch the lower fords. There had as yet been
hardly time for even momentary repose when, early in the night, it
occurred to some of the Arab leaders to call out their tribes with the
view of harassing the enemy. The movement, made at the first without
Sád’s cognisance, drew on a general engagement in the dark. The screams
of the combatants and din of arms made _The Night of Clangour_, as
it is called, without parallel in the annals of Islam. It could only
be compared to ‘the clang of a blacksmith’s forge.’ Sád betook himself
to prayer, for no sure tidings reached him all night through.[274]
Morning broke on the two hosts, weary but still engaged in equal
combat. Then arose Cacâa and said that one more vigorous charge would
surely bring the decisive turn, ‘for victory ever followeth him that
persevereth to the end.’ For four-and-twenty hours the troops had
maintained the struggle without closing an eye. Yet now the Moslems
issued with freshness and alacrity to a new attack. The Persian wings
began to waver. Then a fierce onslaught on their centre shook the
host: it opened and uncovered the bank on which was pitched the throne
of Rustem. [Sidenote: The Persians discomfited and Rustem slain.]A
tempestuous wind arose; and the canopy, no longer guarded, was blown
into the river. The wretched prince had barely time, before his enemies
were upon him, to fly and crouch beneath a mule laden with treasure.
The chance blow of a passer-by brought down the pack and crushed the
prince’s back. He crawled to the bank and cast himself into the river;
but not before he was recognised by a soldier, who drew him out and
slew him, and then, mounting his throne, loudly proclaimed his end.[275]
[Sidenote: Destruction of the Persian host.]
No sooner was their leader slain, than the rout and slaughter of the
Persian host began. Firuzân and Hormuzân succeeded in passing their
columns over the dam, and making good their flight before their
pursuers could cross the bridge. Jalenûs, standing by the mound,
exhorted his men to follow; but the dam (perhaps to secure retreat)
had been already cut, and was soon swept away, and with it a multitude
into the stream.[276] To the right and to the left, up the river bank
and down, the Mussulmans chased the fugitives relentlessly. Jalenûs,
vainly endeavouring to rally his men, was slain, and his body rifled
of its jewelled spoil. The plain, far and wide, was strewn with dead
bodies. The fugitive multitude, hunted even into the fens and marshes,
were everywhere put mercilessly to the sword. But the army was too
exhausted to carry the pursuit to any great distance beyond the river.
[Sidenote: Moslem loss.]
The Mussulman loss far exceeded that of any previous Moslem engagement.
In the final conflict 6,000 fell, besides 2,500 in the two days before.
No sooner was the battle ended, than the women and children, carrying
pitchers of water, and armed with clubs, on a double mission of mercy
and of vengeance, spread themselves over the field. Every fallen
Mussulman, still warm and breathing, they gently raised and wetted his
lips with water. [Sidenote: Wounded Persians despatched by women and
children.]But towards the wounded Persians they knew no mercy; for
them they had another errand; raising their clubs they gave to them
the _coup de grâce_. Thus had Islam extinguished the sentiment
of pity, and, against nature, implanted in the breasts of the gentler
sex, and even of little children, the spirit of fierce and cold-blooded
cruelty.[277]
[Sidenote: The vast booty.]
Like the loss of life, so also the spoil for the survivors was great
beyond all parallel, both in its amount and costliness. Each soldier
had six thousand dirhems, besides special gifts for the veterans and
for such as had shown extraordinary valour. The jewels stripped from
Rustem’s body were worth 70,000 pieces, although the tiara, most costly
portion of his dress, had been washed away. The great banner of the
empire was captured on the field. It was made of panthers’ skins, but
so richly garnished with gems as to be valued at 100,000 pieces.[278]
The prize taken by Zohra from the person of Jalenûs was so costly, that
Sád, doubting whether it might not be altogether too great for one
person, applied to Omar for advice. The Caliph chided him in reply.
‘Dost thou grudge the spoil to such a one as Zohra,’ he wrote, ‘after
all that he hath wrought, and in view of all the fighting yet to come?
Thou wilt break his heart thus. Give him the whole, and over and above
add a special gift of 500 pieces.’ Thus did the needy Arabs revel in
the treasures of the East, the costliness of which almost exceeded
their power to comprehend.
[Sidenote: Decisive character of the victory.]
For the enemy, the defeat was crushing, and decisive of the the
nation’s fate. It was little more than thirty months since Khâlid
had set foot upon Irâc, and already that empire, which fifteen years
before had humbled the Roman arms, had ravaged Syria, and encamped
triumphantly on the Bosphorus, was crumbling under the blows of an
enemy whose strength never exceeded thirty or forty thousand Arabs
rudely armed. The battle of Câdesîya reveals the secret. On one
side there was but a lukewarm, servile following; on the other, an
indomitable spirit that nerved every heart and arm, and after long
weary hours of fighting enabled the Moslems to deliver the final and
decisive charge. The result was, that the vast host, on which the last
efforts of the empire had been spent, was totally discomfited; and,
although broken columns escaped across the river, the military power
of the empire never again gathered itself into formidable shape. The
country far and wide was terror-struck. An important though indirect
effect was that the Bedouin tribes on the Euphrates hesitated no
longer. Many of them, though Christian, had fought on the Moslem side.
Some of these now came to Sád and said: ‘The tribes which at the first
embraced Islam were wiser than we. Now that Rustem hath been slain, all
will accept the new belief.’ So there came over many tribes in a body
and made profession of the faith.
[Sidenote: Tidings how received by Omar.]
The battle had been so long impending, and the preparations of the
empire on so grand a scale, that the issue was watched all over the
country, ‘from Odzeib away south to Aden, and from Obolla across to
Jerusalem,’ as that which would decide the fate of Islam.[279] The
Caliph used to issue forth alone from the gates of Medîna early in
the morning, if perchance he might meet some messenger from the field
of battle. At last a courier arrived outside the city, who to Omar’s
question replied shortly, ‘The Lord hath discomfited the Persian host.’
Unrecognised, Omar followed the camel-rider on foot, and gleaned from
him the outline of the great battle. Entering Medîna, the people
crowded round the Caliph, and, saluting, wished him joy of the triumph.
The courier, abashed, cried out, ‘O Commander of the Faithful, why
didst thou not tell me?’ ‘It is well, my brother,’ was the Caliph’s
simple answer. Such was the unpretending mien of one who at that moment
was greater than either the Kaiser or the Chosroes.