II

So it came to pass that the Prophet, who had managed to survive at

Mecca only because of the Koreishite respect for ties of blood,

was himself responsible for starting a blood-feud against the

Koreish. He appears, however, to have been far less disturbed by

this consideration than by the fact that he had not yet succeeded in

winning any considerable amount of loot from them; but his desire

was soon to be amply gratified.

In the autumn of 623, Abu Sufyan, a leading Meccan merchant, had

conducted the most important caravan of the year to Syria, and in

January, 624, he was on his way home with fifty thousand pieces

of gold. Mohammed had meanwhile determined that this rich cargo

should be his; but, being yet somewhat inexperienced in the niceties

of brigandage and slaughter, he carelessly allowed rumors of his

intention to reach the ears of Abu, who at once sent a runner to

Mecca with an urgent request for a rescuing force. The Prophet,

in the meanwhile, rallied his supporters for the assault after

this fashion: “See! here cometh a caravan of Koreish in which they

have embarked much wealth. Come! let us go forth; peradventure

the Lord will enrich us with the same.” Scores of refugees and

citizens gladly leaped forth to obey, but he would allow none save

the righteous to join him. Chancing to spy two heathens among the

volunteers, he sternly addressed them thus, “None shall go forth

with me but he who is of our Faith.” To their plea that they were

redoubtable fighters who would ask nothing but their share of the

plunder, he replied: “Ye shall not go thus. _Believe and fight!_”

Immediately they asserted their profound conviction that he was

indeed the Prophet of Allah, whereupon their ears were gladdened

with the remark, “Now go forth and fight!” And these two became such

famous despoilers that another heathen, after noting how greatly

their conversion had benefited them, sadly exclaimed: “Would that

I had gone forth with the Prophet! Then I had surely secured large

booty!”

After dispatching two scouts to watch the movements of the caravan,

Mohammed and his army of three hundred and five men at once set out

toward Bedr (a spot near the coast to the southwest of Medina),

hoping to apprehend the caravan at that place. While on the way,

he deliberately avoided passing through certain localities whose

names were unpleasing to him; for this singular man, who commonly

appeared morose, taciturn and phlegmatic, had a nervous temperament

that was extraordinarily susceptible to an astonishing variety of

idiosyncratic fancies and whims. He would not sit down at night in

a dark room; he believed that odd numbers had greater virtue than

even ones; he changed color and walked nervously around during heavy

storms; and he had a charmingly ingenuous faith in portents. Abu

Sufyan, too, believed in signs--when they meant something definite.

When he came to a well at Bedr, his eagle eyes spied two ominous

date-stones that the careless scouts had dropped near its brink.

“Camels from Yathrib!” cried Abu; “these be the scouts of Mohammed!”

and he immediately guided his caravan at full speed to the right.

His runner meanwhile had reached Mecca where, approaching the Kaba,

he forced his camel to kneel; then, cutting off its nose and ears

and tearing his shirt-tails to signify that a dreadful calamity

impended, the Arabian Paul Revere screamed: “Koreish! Koreish!

your caravan is pursued by Mohammed. Help! oh help!” The Meccans,

already enraged at the murder of their tribesman at the hands of

Moslems during Rejeb, were more than eager for vengeance, and an

army of about nine hundred and fifty men at once started for Bedr.

But, when they neared that place, a messenger reached them with the

news that the caravan had fled on and was already out of danger.

A heated discussion arose as to what should be done: since their

merchandise was safe, should they return; or, should they take up the

presumptuous challenge of the renegade Prophet? While both points

of view were being violently argued, another scout came rushing up

with the appalling information that the Moslem “numbers are small,

but death is astride upon the camels of Yathrib.” Following this

alarming prophecy, a retreat had almost been ordered when Abu Jahl,

the nasty girl-slapper, taunted his compatriots by calling them

cowards, and bade one Amir, a brother of the murdered Meccan, to

think of his brother-blood; Amir immediately tore off his garments,

covered himself with dust and began to shriek his brother’s name

aloud. Thus their fury was revived, and, though a few craven-hearted

ones returned to Mecca, the rest marched posthaste toward the

oncoming foe.

During this time the news of the enemy’s advance had reached the

army of Mohammed; but, instead of causing debate, it had roused the

Moslem enthusiasm to a greater pitch. The citizens, too, even though

they had not pledged themselves to assist in offensive warfare,

were equally affected. “Prophet of the Lord!” shouted their leader,

“march whither thou listest; encamp wheresoever thou mayest choose;

make war or conclude peace with whom thou wilt. For I swear by Him

who hath sent thee the Truth, that if thou wert to march till our

camels fell down dead, we should go forward with thee to the world’s

end.” Then Mohammed, deeply affected by this proof of devotion,

responded: “Go forward with the blessing of God! For, verily, He

hath promised one of the two--the army or the caravan--that He will

deliver it into our hands. By the Lord! methinks I even now see

the battlefield strewn with dead.” Here were no timid bickerings,

no half-hearted counsels, no unmanly scruples about spilling

fraternal blood: what _was_ there to fear when Paradise, revenge

for ostracism, and fifty thousand shining pieces of gold beckoned

them on? And the Prophet, who never did things by halves, fanned

the rising fires of fanaticism by giving turbulent utterance to a

series of commingled imprecatory and suppliant prayers. “O Lord!

let not Abu Jahl escape, the Pharaoh of his people! Lord! let not

Zaama escape; rather let the eyes of his father run sore for him

with weeping, and become blind!... O Lord! I beseech thee, forget

not Thy promise of assistance and of victory. O Lord! if this little

band be vanquished, Idolatry will prevail, and the pure worship of

Thee cease from off the earth!”

When night fell, both armies had nearly reached Bedr. Mohammed

and Abu Bekr sought repose in a hut of palm branches guarded by

a soldier with his sword drawn; and the Prophet’s slumbers were

comforted by dreams in which the enemy appeared as a pitifully weak

force. Morning had barely dawned when foe swiftly advanced to meet

foe. A providential rain had softened the ground over which the

Koreish must needs pass, and, at the same time, it had paradoxically

hardened the soil beneath the Moslem feet; the fortunate fact that

small sandy ridges concealed the majority of the Meccans induced the

Medinese to advance with extra courage; and the Koreish suffered the

further disadvantage of facing the troublesome rays of the rising

sun. In addition, the Prophet’s superior foresight, abetted by the

suggestion of a counselor, had prompted him to take possession of a

never-failing spring, as well as to destroy all the other available

water-sources; for he always backed up his incessant prayers by

using every device of military tactics that he happened to know,

or acquire.

According to the Arabian custom, the fray opened with a series of

individual combats. Three Meccan warriors stepped vaingloriously

forth, daring the three best men among the Moslems to face them;

and valorous Hamza, impetuous Ali, and Obeida the septuagenarian

rushed forward to accept the challenge. The swords of Hamza and Ali

soon dripped with the lifeblood of two Koreishites; when Obeida

fell severely wounded, they sprang to his aid and simultaneously

delivered two lusty strokes that killed the third. Then, raising

the cry, “Ye conquerors, strike!” the serried Moslem ranks hurled

themselves against the enemy; but the Prophet himself, while the

deadly yet indecisive struggle was being waged, played an ambiguous

part. Friendly traditions state that he bounded about with a sword

in his hand. Those of another sort relate that, upon observing the

first shedding of blood, he retired to his hut and swooned; that,

upon being revived, he poured forth the most energetic prayers;

and that, even before the battle commenced, he had taken pains to

have a swift camel tied to his tent as a last resource against the

possible calamity of defeat. Still other narratives assert that he

occupied himself principally in reminding his accomplices that

Paradise awaited those who perished for Islam--a promise whose

validity he himself seems to have been indisposed to test. For

Mohammed, no less than many other religiously-minded emperors and

tsars, appears to have conducted himself in battle according to

the wise principle that a head without a halo is infinitely more

desirable than a halo without a head.

While the disorderly Meccan forces were being steadily pressed back

by the close-joined Moslem ranks, a furious storm of wind arose.

Until this time, Mohammed seems to have been rather sceptical

concerning the issue of his prayers; but, now that the foe was

beginning to waver, he doubted no longer. “That,” he exclaimed while

the tempest raged, “is Gabriel with a thousand angels charging down

upon the foe.” Then, stooping and grabbing up a handful of small

stones, he rose and hurled them at the Koreish, accompanying his

action with the shout, “Confusion seize their faces!” This double

assault, timed at the psychological moment, could not fail to have

effect. The broken and shaken Meccan ranks--thoroughly discomfited

by a lack of discipline, by a merely lukewarm interest in fighting

their quondam neighbors and friends, and, as their own satirists

abundantly pointed out later, by actual cowardice--cracked apart

and fled in complete dismay, to be harassed and killed or captured

by the pursuing Moslems. Mohammed lost but fourteen men in the

encounter, whereas more than a hundred Koreish were slain or taken

prisoners.

Curious scenes followed. A Moslem named Moadh had succeeded in

cutting off Abu Jahl’s leg. Just then Moadh, attacked by Abu’s son,

had found himself with one of his own arms almost severed; and,

realizing that this member was now a useless impediment, Moadh bent

over, placed his foot on the injured arm, wrenched it off, and

continued to fight. At this moment one Abdallah came running up

to assist Moadh, and, overjoyed at his good fortune in stumbling

over such a notorious enemy, cut off Abu Jahl’s head and carried

it to Mohammed. The Prophet, who was just beginning to celebrate

his victory, raised the exultant shout: “The head of the enemy of

God! God! there is none other God!” “There is none other!” agreed

Abdallah, dropping his gory prize before Mohammed’s feet; and

Abdallah almost fainted from bliss when the Prophet continued, “It

is more acceptable to me than the choicest camel in all Arabia.”

It happened, also, that Ali had overheard Mohammed praying for the

death of Naufal ibn Khuweilid, who had been taken prisoner; so Ali

ran up, coolly slaughtered him, and promptly hastened with the good

news to the Prophet, who joyously commented that this was doubtless

a direct answer to his supplication. The spoil was soon gathered,

and a pit was dug into which the Koreishite bodies were tossed;

and Mohammed, who stood by watching the proceedings, greeted each

corpse by name, adding this question, “Have ye now found true that

which your Lord did promise you? What my Lord promised me, that

verily I have found to be true.” “O Prophet!” inquired an amazed

observer, “dost thou speak unto the dead?” “Yea, verily,” was the

reply, “for now they well know that the promise of their Lord hath

fully come to pass.”

Next morning, when the prisoners were led before him, he turned

a malignant gaze upon Al-Nadr, who had been captured by Mikdad.

“There is death in that glance,” the frightened Al-Nadr whispered

to a bystander, and he was right; his trembling plea for mercy was

rewarded with the response, “Islam hath rent all bonds asunder,”

from a prominent Moslem, and with the command, “Strike off his

head!” from Mohammed, who also felt moved to add, “And, O Lord,

do Thou of Thy bounty grant unto Mikdad a better prey than this!”

Another prisoner, Okba--a man well versed in Grecian, Persian and

Arabian lore, who is said to have aroused the Prophet’s ire by the

observation that, if a fund of good stories entitled a man to call

himself a prophet, he was fully as good a candidate as Mohammed

himself--was likewise ordered to face his doom. Mohammed, however,

first satisfied Okba’s curiosity as to why he had been singled out

for destruction with the words, “Because of thine enmity to God

and his Prophet.” “And my little girl,” continued Okba, “who will

take care of her?” “Hell-fire!” was the swift reply, as Okba was

chopped to the ground. The Prophet, surveying the remains, rejoiced

after this fashion: “I give thanks unto the Lord that hath slain

thee, and comforted mine eyes thereby.” Yet it should be stated

that the defenders of Islam asseverate that Mohammed’s remarks to

the Koreishite corpses were intended to express pity rather than

hatred, and that the ejaculation “Hell-fire!” was a reference to

the fact that Okba’s children were nicknamed “children of fire”--in

other words, he implied that Okba’s descendants would be cared for

by his relatives.

Whatever the facts may be, it is certain that Mohammed treated the

rest of the captives with a kindness rarely matched in the martial

history of Arabia. While the implacable Omar made a violent plea

for their summary death, and while the easy-going Abu Bekr urged

clemency, Gabriel winged his way from Allah’s presence with the

gratifying information that Mohammed might do as he wished; but

he added the portentous remark that, if the Koreish were spared,

a like number of Moslems would perish in battle within the year.

Mohammed eventually pleased everyone, except Omar, by announcing

that the prisoners would not be slain, but that they could be freed

only by ransom, and that those Moslems who might fall as Gabriel had

foretold would “inherit Paradise and the crown of martyrdom.” His

decision was probably reached on account of several considerations:

the ransom for some seventy prisoners might benefit Islam even more

than their blood; there was the further chance that some of them

might become disciples; and, finally, he may conceivably have been

more mercifully minded than his traducers admit.

Joy and thanksgiving were unbounded when the news of the overwhelming

victory reached Medina; even the toddling children chased around

the streets crying out, “Abu Jahl, the sinner, is slain!” The

prisoners were so kindly treated that some of them actually became

converts, while the stubborn remainder were ransomed for reasonable

sums--except those whose wealth Mohammed’s abnormally retentive

memory still kept in mind. Thus, when the case of the opulent

Naufal, Mohammed’s own cousin, came up, the Prophet amazed him with

a demand for the thousand spears that he possessed; Naufal was so

completely upset by this evidence of what appeared to be supernatural

assistance that he is said to have accepted Islam on the spot. Among

the prisoners, also, was the Prophet’s rich uncle Al-Abbas, who

declined to pay on the ground that he was already a Moslem and that

he had been obliged to fight against his conscience. “God knows best

about that,” replied his nephew; “externally you were against us,

so ransom yourself.” When Al-Abbas demurred, saying that he was now

penniless, he was met with the pitiless query, “Then where is the

money which, when you left Mecca, you secretly deposited with your

wife?” Al-Abbas paid his ransom. Meanwhile a spirited discussion

arose as to the way in which the booty--which included about one

hundred and fifty camels and horses, together with vast quantities

of vestments and armor--should be divided; the matter, indeed, was

so important that it could be settled only by a heavenly decree,

which stipulated that one-fifth should be placed at the disposal

of “God and the Prophet” and the remainder equally dispersed among

the army.

But these were mere mercenary considerations. The outstanding,

overshadowing fact was that a small body of Moslems had utterly

routed a force three times their own number. Mohammed might well

claim that he had at last performed a veritable miracle, and his

subordinates might well have become a little vainglorious too;

but the Koran soon placed the credit for the “Day of Deliverance”

where it properly belonged. “As for victory, it is from none other

than from God; for God is glorious and wise.... And ye slew them

not, but God slew them. Neither was it thou, O Prophet, that didst

cast the gravel; but God did cast it.” And yet the human side of

the encounter was not neglected. The glorious Three Hundred who

had fought and conquered such superior odds thenceforth became the

peerage of Medina. Until the end of his life, Mohammed was willing

to forgive almost any sort of offence committed by any one of them,

for, as he wisely declared, he could not be sure that Allah Himself

had not given them free leave to do as they chose.

At Mecca, however, very different scenes were witnessed. The bitter

pangs of shame and despair that everyone felt upon learning of the

stunning defeat soon gave way to a fiery thirst for vengeance. For

a month this frenzy reigned; then human nature intervened and a

universal lament for the dead ascended, for almost every home in

Mecca had been bereaved. A harrowing yet beautiful story illustrates

how the grim self-restraint of the Koreish was finally broken. One

night an aged father, who had lost two sons, heard the sound of

weeping and thus commanded his servant: “Go see! It may be that

Koreish have begun to wail for their dead; perchance I too may

wail, for grief consumeth me within.” Informed that it was only

a woman who was mourning for her strayed camel, he poured forth

an impassioned threnody. “Doth she weep for her camel, and for it

banish sleep from her eyes? Nay, if we will weep, let us weep over

Bedr--weep for Okeil, and for Al-Harith the lion of lions!” Perhaps

the Koreish now realized the irreparable and fatal error they had

made in deciding to take Mohammed seriously. Had they persisted

in their original intention--mocked at him as an idle dreamer and

a crack-brained idiot--he might have lived and died harmlessly in

Mecca. But persecution had proved to be his best friend: forced to

defend himself and to become the head of a little protecting army,

he had revealed an unsuspected military acumen that had reduced his

hostile kinsmen to this desperate condition. One Spartan couple

in Mecca, however, refused to join in the common woe. “Weep not

for your slain, mourn not their loss, neither let the bard bewail

their fate,” was the stern advice of Abu Sufyan. “If ye lament with

elegies, it will ease your wrath and diminish your enmity toward

Mohammed and his fellows. And, should that reach their ears, and

they laugh at us, will not their scorn be worse than all? Haply

the turn may come, and ye may yet obtain your revenge. As for me,

I will touch no oil, neither approach my wife, until I shall have

gone forth again to fight with Mohammed.” And when Abu’s wife, Hind,

was chided for refusing to wail for her father, brother and uncle,

she fiercely responded: “Nay, I will not weep until ye again wage

war with Mohammed and his fellows. If tears could wipe the grief

from off my heart, I too would weep as ye; but it is not thus with

Hind.” Not to be outdone by her husband, she too declared that

she would neither use oil nor approach her marital couch until an

avenging Meccan army was on the march.