THE PERSECUTION BEGINS.
"In doing good we are generally cold and languid and
sluggish.... But the works of Malice and Injustice are quite in
another style."--_Burke._
Among those left dead on the field of Bedr were the father, uncle and
brother of Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian. Fierce and savage as was her
nature, she was yet capable of deep feeling, and her love for her
kindred was one of the ruling passions of her life.
When the caravan at last reached Mecca in safety, she rushed to meet Abu
Sofian, weeping wildly, wringing her hands in grief, and throwing dust
on her long hair. She besought him frantically to avenge their death,
and he, knowing that the debt of "blood revenge" was now upon him, and
that blood alone would wipe the stain from his honor, gathered two
hundred swift horsemen and set out almost immediately for Medina.
On the way he ravaged the whole country, burning the villages and
date-groves of Mohammed's followers.
When within three miles of Medina the prophet sallied out to meet him. A
brief contest took place, and Abu Sofian was once more defeated in what
was jestingly called the Battle of the Meal Sacks.
The Moslems were exultant over their success, but Abu Sofian returned to
Mecca, the blood-dues still unpaid, and with bitter enmity gnawing at
his heart.
In the meantime Mohammed began to assume all the airs of an independent
sovereign. He married a beautiful maiden, Hafza, to whom he entrusted
the care of the Koran, according as it was revealed; and shortly
afterwards he issued a decree by which all true believers were ordered
to face Mecca when praying. Thus early in his career of conquest he had
fixed upon Mecca as the future holy city of the Moslems. As usual, the
Koran was called in to authorize him in thus fixing the Kebla, or point
of prayer.
"Unto God belongeth the East and the West. He directeth whom he pleaseth
in the right way. Turn, therefore, thy face towards the holy temple of
Mecca; and wherever ye be, turn your faces towards that place."
At this time also he sanctioned the retaining of the holy fast of
Ramadhan and the pilgrimages connected therewith. As he was well aware
that the doing away with the great bazar upon which the prosperity of
Mecca so largely depended would loose a host of enemies upon him, he
declared:
"O true believers, a fast is ordained you, as it was ordained unto them
before you, that ye may fear God. The month of Ramadhan shall ye fast,
in which the Koran was sent down from heaven, a direction unto men."
Henceforth, during the fast, all true believers were to abstain from
eating or drinking, and from all earthly pleasures, while the sun shone
above the horizon and until the lamps at the mosques were lighted by the
Imaums. It is needless to say that the Moslems obviated this
self-sacrifice by sleeping during the day as much as possible, giving
the night up to all the proscribed indulgences of the interdicted
season.
And now Mohammed's hatred to the Jews began to show itself, and the
awful persecution of the little Jewish band in Medina commenced.
Poor Dumah was one of the first to bring the rod of wrath upon himself.
When wandering down the street one day, not very long after the Battle
of Bedr, he paused by a well, just as Mohammed, accompanied by his
faithful Zeid, appeared in the way. Dumah saw them and at once began to
sing his thoughts in a wild, irregular lament. His voice was peculiarly
sweet and clear, and every word reached the ear of the enraged prophet.
The song was a weird lament over those slain at Bedr:
"They are fallen, the good are fallen,
Low in the dust they are fallen;
And their hair is steeped in blood;
But the poison-wind shrieks above them,
Sighing anon like the cushat,
And breathing its curses upon him,
Upon him, the chief of impostors.
As he passes the leaflets tremble,
And the flowers shrink from his pathway;
And the angels smile not upon him,
For he maketh the widow and orphan;
And the voice of Rachel riseth
In mourning loud for her children.
And no comfort doth fall upon her.
Soft like the balm of Gilead."
Turning to one of his followers, Mohammed commanded angrily:
"Seize that singer!"
Dumah heard the exclamation, and was off like the wind, followed by two
or three Moslems, each anxious to secure the victim first, and thus win
the approval of the august Mohammed.
On, on, straight to the house of Amzi fled Dumah. Bursting open the
door, he rushed in, his long hair disordered, his face purple with
running and his eyes wide with terror.
"Save me, Yusuf! Save me, Amzi!" he cried. "Mohammed will kill me!
Mohammed will kill me!"
Yusuf sprang to the door, and the poor fugitive threw himself at Amzi's
feet, clinging to his garments with his thin, white hands.
But the pursuers were already upon him. Yusuf strove in vain to detain
them, to reason with them.
"Can you not see he is a poor artless lad? Can you not have mercy?" he
cried.
"It is the order of the prophet of Allah!" was the response.
Yusuf resisted their entrance with all his might, but, unarmed as he
was, he was quickly thrown down, and the terrified Dumah was dragged
over his body and hurried off to be put in chains in a Moslem cell.
Amzi was distracted. There seemed little hope for Dumah. The small
Jewish band then in Medina could not dare to cope with the overwhelming
numbers of Moslems that swarmed in the streets. If Dumah were delivered
it must be by stratagem; and yet what stratagem could be employed?
Early in the evening Amzi and the priest withdrew to the roof for
consultation.
"You believe that your God is all-powerful--why do you not beseech him
for our poor lad's safety?" cried Amzi passionately.
"I have not ceased to do so since his capture," returned Yusuf. "But it
must be as the Lord willeth. He sees what is best. Even our blessed
Jesus said to the Father, 'Not my will, but thine be done.'"
Amzi was not satisfied. "Can he then be the God of Love that you say, if
he could look upon the death of that poor innocent nor exercise his
power to save him?"
"Amzi, I do not wonder at you for speaking thus. Yet consider. We will
hope the best for our poor singer. May God preserve him and enable us,
as instruments in his hands, to deliver him. But God may see differently
from us in this matter. Who can say that to die would not be gain to
poor Dumah? All witless as he is, he shall have a perfect mind and a
perfect body in the bright hereafter. We know not what is well. We can
only pray and do all in our power to effect his deliverance; we must
leave the issue to God."
Amzi bowed his head on his hands and groaned. Yusuf raised his eyes
towards heaven; the tears rolled down his cheeks, and his lips moved.
Even he could not understand the mysteries of this strange time. Yet he
was constantly comforted in knowing that "all things work together for
good to them that love God."
Saddest of all was the vision of the handsome, dark face that, contorted
in the fury of combat, had glared upon him from the Moslem ranks in the
Battle of Bedr, while Manasseh's hand showered blows upon the head of
his best friend--for the sake of the prophet of Islam.
"Manasseh! Manasseh!" he exclaimed in bitter sadness. "Why hast thou
forsaken thy father's God? O heavenly Father, do thou guide him and lead
him again into thy paths!"