THE BATTLE OF BEDR.
"A Prodigy of Fear, and a portent
Of broached mischief to the unborn times."
--_Shakespeare._
The afternoon was intensely warm. Although the heat of the day was past,
the houses of Mecca seemed to bake in the sun, the sand burned like a
furnace, and a visible, shimmering heat seemed to fill the air.
Nevertheless the ceremonies of Tawaf and the ablutions of Zem-Zem went
on unceasingly, for it was the month of Ramadhan, and the half-naked
pilgrims, with their scanty white garments, shaven heads, and bare feet,
kept up the perpetual promenade about the temple, even when so hot as to
be ready to drop of exhaustion. The courtyard was crowded with people,
the carriers of Zem-Zem water were in constant demand, and, in the
cooler recesses of the covered portico around the great yard, a humming
trade went on, the venders' cries rising above the prayers of the
pilgrims.
Such was the scene upon which Omair suddenly staggered, all breathless,
with haggard face, turban awry, and thin wisps of hair streaming in wet
hanks over his brow.
"Where is Abu Jahl?" he cried, gasping.
"Why, what is wrong? Tell us!" cried the curious crowd in some
consternation. "Where is Abu Sofian? Where is the caravan? Why have you
come alone?"
"Send me Abu Jahl!" was his only reply.
The old man happened to be at the Caaba, and came anxiously at the
unexpected summons.
"Omair!" he exclaimed. "Allah! What has happened?"
"Send them help!" gasped Omair. "Send them help at once, or not one in
our fair caravan may escape! Mohammed is lying in wait for them in the
mountain passes."
"May Allah have mercy!" ejaculated the old man; and the crowd about
shrieked and groaned.
"Bring me the stair!" called Abu Jahl. "Place it close to the Caaba!"
This done, he ascended to the roof where all might see him. His snowy
beard descended to his waist over his flowing garments, and his white
locks fell thinly from beneath his kufiyah.
Silence fell upon the assembly below, and from every street men came
hurrying in to hear the strange tidings.
"In the name of Allah, hear!" called Abu Jahl in loud tones. "Ye of the
tribe of Koreish, hear! Ye who love Abu Sofian, hear! Ye who have
friends or goods in the great caravan from Syria, hear! Ye above whom
the arch-impostor, Mohammed, aspires, and whom he would fain crush
beneath his feet as the vile serpent in the dust, hear! He hath beset
our friends in the fastnesses of the mountains. He swoopeth upon them as
the eagle upon the defenceless lamb out of the fold! Who, then, among
you, will follow Abu Jahl to deliver them?"
An approving murmur rose, long and loud; then a hush fell as the aged
man continued, appealing to the courage of his hearers:
"Ye who fear not the foul rebel's sword, ye who would uphold the honor
of your wives and little ones, nor send your children out upon the world
as the offspring of cowards, beseech your gods for blessing, then mount,
and meet me as soon as may be outside the temple gates. In the name of
Allah, good-speed!"
A shout of assent arose. The thoroughly excited multitude swayed and
surged like the waves of the sea. Hundreds hurried off to do the behest
of their leader, and, returning, hastened to perform Tawaf about the
Caaba before setting out on their perilous journey.
Yusuf, as a Christian, dared not enter the temple; but he heard the news
from without. His heart was moved with compassion for the poor,
defenceless traders, caught like mice in a trap, and he decided to fall
into the ranks of the rescue party, intending, if his life were spared,
to pay a visit to Amzi, at Medina.
While the recruits were gathering, Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian, rushed
up, her face wild and haggard with terror, her long black hair streaming
on the wind, her eyes flashing with excitement, and her lips drawn back,
exposing her yellow, fang-like teeth. A tigress she looked in her fury,
and it was with difficulty that Abu Jahl prevented her from going with
the expedition, which, in the cooler shades of evening, started off at a
rapid pace, leaving her to nurse her vengeance until a later day.
Hurried, yet long and tedious, was the journey, and the anxiety and
impatience of the volunteers made it seem almost interminable.
[Illustration: The youth made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's
shoulder.--See page 46.]
At length news was brought of the safety of the caravan, and of its
deviation towards the sea. But the blood of the Meccans was up, and the
fiery old leader was determined to punish Mohammed for his misconduct,
and thus, perhaps, prevent him from committing similar atrocities in the
future. Accordingly he sent part of his troops for protection to the
caravan, and commanded the rest, about nine hundred in number, to push
on; and among those ordered forward to the field was Yusuf.
Mohammed, with three hundred and thirteen soldiers, mounted chiefly on
camels, received word of this advance. His men were lying between Medina
and the sea, and, as he thought, directly between the caravan and Abu
Jahl's army. He told his men to be of good cheer, as Allah had promised
them an easy victory; yet he was careful to omit no human means of
securing an advantage. He posted his troops beside the brook Bedr, and
had them hastily throw up an entrenchment to cover the flank of his
troops. Then, sure of a constant supply of water, and safe from fear of
surprise, he awaited the Meccan army.
He himself ascended a little eminence, accompanied only by Abu Beker,
and, in a small hut made of branches, he prayed for the assistance of
three thousand angels. In his excitement, one of his old paroxysms came
on, but this was regarded as auspicious by his men, to whom,
superstitious as they were, every occurrence of this kind was an
additional presage of victory and an additional spur to bravery in
battle.
And now the opposing force appeared, coming down the opposite hill, the
men hot, weary, and covered with dust.
After a preliminary skirmish between individual combatants, the battle
began,--not a systematic charge in close ranks, not the disciplined
attack of trained warriors, but a wild mêlée of camels, horses, flashing
scimitars, gleaming daggers and plunging spears, in the midst of clouds
of dust and streaming scarfs.
The combat was long, and at one time the party of Mohammed seemed to
waver. The prophet rushed out, threw a handful of dust into the air and
exclaimed:
"May confusion light upon their faces! Charge, ye faithful! charge for
Allah and his prophet!"
Nothing could withstand the wild dash made by his men. Filled with the
passion of enthusiasm, the zeal of fanatics, and the confidence of
success, they bore down like madmen. The Koreish, many of whom were
fearful of enchantment by the prophet, were seized with sudden panic. In
vain Abu Jahl tried to rally them. He was torn from his horse by a
savage Moslem, and his head severed from his body. His troops fled in
terror, leaving seventy men dead on the field and seventy prisoners.
The bodies and prisoners were robbed, and the spoil divided. Mohammed,
in order to avert dispute over the booty, very conveniently had a
revelation at the time.--"Know that whenever ye gain any spoil, a fifth
part thereof belongeth unto God, and to the apostle, and to his kindred,
and the orphans, and the poor, and the traveler."
Upon this occasion he claimed a considerable amount of silver, and a
sword, Dhu'l Fakar (or the Piercer), which he carried in every
subsequent battle.
During the battle, Yusuf, the priest, had fought bravely. Mounted on a
magnificent horse, his commanding figure had marked him out as an object
worthy of attack. Accordingly he was ever in the thickest of the fight.
With cool and calm determination his blows fell, until suddenly an event
occurred which completely unmanned him, and gave his enemies the
advantage.
Among the opponents who singled him out for attack was a youth mounted
on a horse of equal power and agility. The youth was rather slight, but
his skill in thrusting and in averting strokes, and his evidence of
practice in every exercise of the lance, rendered him a fitting
adversary for the priest with his superior strength.
For some time their combat had gone on single-handed, when the youth's
head-dress falling off revealed a face strikingly familiar to Yusuf. It
was Manasseh's own face, pale, and with clots of blood upon it!
The priest was horror-stricken. He forbore to thrust, and the youth,
seizing the opportunity, made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's
shoulder, and felling him to the ground. A new opponent came and engaged
the youth's attention; the panic fell, and the priest, seeing that it
was useless to remain, managed to mount and ride off after the
retreating troops.
Scarcely injured, yet covered with blood, he dismounted at Amzi's door
in Medina.
"Yusuf! My brother!" cried the Meccan in astonishment, "what means
this?"
In a few words Yusuf told the tale of the battle, and Amzi placed him
comfortably upon a soft couch, insisting upon ministering to him as
though he had been severely wounded.
"So, Yusuf the gentle too has become a seeker of man's blood!" he said.
"Verily, what an effect hath this degenerate age!"
"Believe me, friend," returned the other, earnestly, "you too would have
gone had you been in Mecca and had heard of our poor friends, all
unarmed, and apparently in the power of the enemy. When the advance to
Bedr was ordered, I was one under authority, and had no choice but to
submit, though I had little enough love for the stench of blood."
"Yet," returned Amzi, "Yusuf's life is too precious to be risked in such
madness. It is not necessary for him to court death; for the time may
soon come when he shall be forced to fight in self-defence. Till then,
let foolish youths dash to the lance's point if they will."
Yusuf bowed his head, and in a low tone replied: "'O God, the Lord, the
strength of my salvation, thou hast covered my head in the day of
battle. He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was
against me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. He that dwelleth in
the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the
Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my
God; in him will I trust.' Amzi, whether in life or in death, it shall
be as he wills."
Amzi looked at him curiously. "Yusuf," he said, "is there no extremity
of your life in which your religion fails to give you comfort? It seems
to furnish you with words befitting every occasion."
"Comfort in every hour of need," returned Yusuf, "deliverance in every
hour of temptation, is our God able to bestow if we seek him in spirit
and in truth. Things temporal, as well as things spiritual, call for his
almighty love and attention; and our love for him brightens every
pathway in life. It is the knowledge of this which has upheld his
children in all the ages;--not one of them who has not gloried in
feeling that 'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in
time of trouble. Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be
removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.'
Not one of them but has at some time found comfort in the promises,
'When the poor and the needy seek water, and there is none, and their
tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them; I, the God of
Israel, will not forsake them. He that keepeth Israel slumbers not, nor
sleeps. Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy
God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold
thee with the right hand of my righteousness.' Think of this help, Amzi,
in every struggle: in the struggle, worse than any time of battle, with
one's own sinful heart. And there is not one of God's children but has
realized the blessedness of following the commands of Jesus, 'Have faith
in God. Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock,
and it shall be opened unto you.' Amzi, you who love gentleness and
peace, truth and humility, cannot you find in Christ and his loving
precepts all you would ask? Can anything appeal to your warm heart more
than such injunctions as these?--'Love your enemies, bless them that
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that
despitefully use you and persecute you. When thou doest alms, let not
thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth. Let your light so shine
before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father
which is in heaven. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Watch ye,
therefore, and pray always. Pray that ye enter not into temptation.'"
He paused, out of breath; for such had been his study of the Scriptures
that the words came in a flood to his lips.
Amzi sighed. "Yes, Yusuf," he said, "such words seem to me full of
goodness and sweetness; yet, try as I may, I cannot realize their true
import. I cannot rejoice, as you and your friends do, in your religion
and its promises."
"My Amzi," returned the priest, "how can you be warmed except you come
to the fire? Remember the man with the withered hand. Did he not stretch
it out in faith? My friend, like him, act! Reach out your heart to God.
He will not fail you. Look not upon yourself. Look upon God, who is,
indeed, closer to you than you can imagine. Put your hand in his, behold
his love manifested to us in the coming of his dear Son, and feel that
that love is to-day the same, proceeding from the Father in whom is 'no
variableness, neither shadow of turning.'"
Amzi sighed. "Yusuf," he said, "it appears all dark, impenetrable, to
me. A wall of adamant seems to stand between me and God. Pray for me,
friend. In this matter I fear I am heartless."
In spite of this assertion, there was genuine concern in the tone, and
the priest's face flushed in the glad light of hope.
"Amzi," he exclaimed, "my hope for you increases. Even now, you begin to
realize your own self: it remains for you to realize God's self. Know
God--would I could burn that upon your heart! All else would be made
plain."
Amzi sighed again. For a time he sat in silence, then he said:
"I have been reading of the tabernacle, and of the sacrifices therein."
"Typical of the death of Christ," returned Yusuf. "A constant emblem of
that mind which was, and is to-day, ready to suffer, that we may
understand its infinite love."
"Strange, strange!" said Amzi, musingly. Then after a long silence:
"Yusuf, have you ever noted the resemblance of the Caaba to the reputed
appearance of the tabernacle?"
"The resemblance struck me from the first glance--the courtyard, the
temple itself, and the curtain (or 'Kiswah') corresponding to the veil
of the tabernacle. This same Caaba may trace its origin in some dim way
to the ancient tabernacle, of which, in this land, the significance must
have become lost in the centuries during which the Ishmaelitish race
forgot the true worship of God."
"And what think you of the course which affairs are now taking in
Arabia?" asked Amzi. "You believe in the supervision of God; why, then,
does he permit such outbreaks as the present one is proving to be?"
"I certainly believe that the Creator sees and knows all things. I
believe, too, that even to Mohammed, at one time in his life, the Holy
Spirit appealed, as he did to me, and, I hope, does now to you,
Amzi,--for his pleadings come sometime to all men; but, I think that if
in earnest at first, Mohammed--if, indeed, he be not a monomaniac on the
subject of his divine calling--has given himself up to the wild
indulgence of his ambition, forgetting Him whose power is able to direct
us all aright. Hence, he guides himself, rather than seeks to be guided,
and, in such a case, he may sometimes be allowed to go on in his own
way, bearing with him those who are so foolish as to accept his
teaching. Something of this kind may, indeed, be one of the secrets of
the crimes and calamities which enter into many human lives. God leaves
us free to choose. When we come to know him we choose to be his
followers. If we are indifferent to him, he may, at times, look on
without interfering in our lives except to send us occasionally great
trouble, or great joy, as an appeal to us. His mercy is great. He pities
and pleads with us, yet he leaves us free."
"And what, think you, will be the effect upon Arabia of this rising?"
Yusuf shook his head. "I know not," he said. "We cannot see now, nor
mayhap until ages have rolled by; but 'at eventide it shall be light.'"
So talked Amzi and the priest until the gray dawn shone in, and the
voice of Bilal, the muezzin, was heard calling from the mosque:
"God is great! There is no God but God! Mohammed is the prophet of God!
Come to prayers! God is great!"