THE BATTLE OF OHOD.
"Dost thou not know the fate of soldiers?
They're but Ambition's tools, to cut a way
To her unlawful ends."
--_Southern._
While these events had been taking place in the North, Henda had given
Abu Sofian little peace, urging him every day to pay the dues of
blood-revenge for her relatives, and taunting him with cowardice in his
long delay.
At length, in the third year of the Hegira he gathered a considerable
army, and with three thousand men of the Koreish tribe, among whom were
two hundred horsemen, left Mecca, accompanied by Henda and fifteen of
the matrons of Mecca bearing timbrels and singing war-like chants.
The whole army advanced with the intention of besieging Medina, but
Mohammed's men entreated him to let them encounter Abu Sofian outside of
the city, and he yielded to their entreaties. With only one thousand
men,[10] fifty of whom were chosen archers, the prophet took up his
stand on a declivity of Mount Ohod, about six miles north of the city.
There, on its black and barren slope, he divided his army into four
parts, three of which bore sacred banners, while the great standard was
placed before Mohammed himself.
In order to imbue his men with courage, he came out in full view of the
whole army, and, in a loud voice that penetrated even the farthest
ranks, gave promise of victory. Then, for the sake of those who should
be killed in battle, he expatiated upon the delights of that Paradise
which surely awaited all who should be slain in the cause, representing
it such a paradise as would be peculiarly adapted to the tastes and
stimulating to the imagination of the Arabs--a race accustomed to arid
wastes, burning sands, and glaring skies; a paradise of green fields and
flowery gardens cooled by innumerable rivers and sparkling fountains,
which glittered from between shaded bowers inter-woven with perfumed
flowers. He gave them promise of streams literally flowing with milk and
clearest honey; of trees bending with fruit which should be handed down
by houris of wondrous beauty; he told them of treasures of gold, silver,
and jewels. "They shall dwell in gardens of delight, reposing on couches
adorned with gold and precious stones.... Upon them shall be garments of
fine green silk and brocades, and they shall be adorned with bracelets
of silver, and they shall drink of a most pure liquor--a cup of wine
mixed with the water of Zenjebil, a fountain in Paradise named
Salsabil."
Such was the sensual character of the paradise promised to his followers
by Mohammed. The soldiers were listening eagerly to the words when the
army of Abu Sofian was seen, advancing in the form of a crescent, with
Abu Sofian and his idols in the center, and Henda and her women in the
rear, sounding their timbrels, and singing loud war-chants.
The horsemen of the left wing of the Koreish now advanced to attack the
Moslems in the flank, but the archers fired upon them from the top of
some steep rocks, and they retired in confusion.
Hamza, a Moslem leader, then shouted the Moslem cry, "Death! Death!" and
rushed down the hill upon the center. The crash and roar of battle
began. High in air gleamed spear and lance; horses shrieked and reared,
and tossed their long manes; dark, contorted visages and shining teeth
shone out from clouds of dust; sashes floated on the air, and sabres
flashed in the sunlight; all was mad confusion.
In the mêlée two young men met hand to hand. Both were tall and slight,
and had dark, waving hair. So like were they that a warrior near them
called out, "Behold, doth Manasseh fight with Manasseh!" But the youths
heard not, recked not. Their blows fell thick and fast, until at last
the Moslem gave way, and fell, wounded and bleeding, in the dust by the
side of Hamza, who lay stiffening in death.
Then arose the shout, "The sword of God and his prophet!" and Abu
Dudjana, armed with the prophet's own sword, waved it above his head and
dashed into the thick of the battle.
Mosaab, the standard-bearer, followed close and planted the standard at
the top of a knoll. An arrow struck him in the eye. He fell, and the cry
arose that the prophet himself had fallen. Ali seized the standard and
floated it aloft on the air; but the Moslems, seized with confusion,
would not rally, and withdrew to the hill-top.
The Koreish, thinking Mohammed killed, forbore to follow them, and began
the revolting work of plundering the dead. Henda and her companions
savagely assisted in the gruesome task; and, coming upon Hamza, the
fierce woman mutilated his dead body.
By him she found the handsome youth, whom she believed to be Manasseh,
so torn and covered with blood as to conceal his Moslem adornments. To
Manasseh she had taken a strange fancy, and she now ordered the youth to
be conveyed in safety to the camp, with the army which was forming in
line of march.
The band of Jews who had come with the forces of Abu Sofian, mainly for
the purpose of delivering those of their afflicted brethren who had
refused to join Mohammed, and of whom many were imprisoned in Medina,
now joined with a band of the Koreish, who desired the freedom of some
of their tribe, and, while the excitement of battle was still fresh, the
party entered the city by stealth, then, dashing furiously down the
street to the guard-house, overpowered the guards and battered open the
doors, setting many of the prisoners free. Among these were Amzi, Asru,
and Yusuf.
It was Manasseh himself who broke in the door of the apartment in which
Yusuf was confined.
An exclamation of pleasure burst from him on recognizing the priest, and
he threw his arms about his neck.
"Yusuf! My dear Yusuf!" he cried.
"My boy!" exclaimed the priest, in astonishment. "What means this?"
"It means that you are free," said the youth as he knocked off the
chains. "Haste! We must on to the camp ere the Moslems return. Anything
more than this I will tell you on the way."
Once again Yusuf stepped out into the pure air, along with many others
who bore part of their chains in the broken links that still clanked
upon their wrists and ankles.
In passing through the court-yard, the priest noticed some one crouched
in a pitiable heap in a corner of the yard. Manasseh hauled him out. It
was the peddler, with ashen face and eyes rolling with fear.
"Come along, my man!" laughed Manasseh. "Like the worm in a pomegranate,
you are apt to do harm if left to yourself."
Abraham writhed and begged for mercy.
"Come along!" said Manasseh, impatiently. "I shall not hurt you; I shall
merely look after you for awhile."
Thus consoled, the peddler hopped on with alacrity. A hasty mount was
made and the party set out for the camp of Abu Sofian.
Yusuf then had a chance to ask the question burning at his heart. "How
comes it, Manasseh, that you again fight against the prophet? When last
I saw you, you wore the green of the Moslem."
"I!" said the youth in astonishment. "You jest, Yusuf!"
"It was surely you who met me on the field of Bedr."
"Yusuf, are you mad? It was never I."
"Then who can it have been? It was your very face."
"For once, Yusuf, your eyes have played you false. How could you have
believed such a thing of Manasseh?"
"A strange resemblance!" mused Yusuf; then--"Whom see I before me
yonder?"
"Manasseh's eyes do not play him false, and he declares it to be Amzi,"
said the youth.
They hastened up the narrow street, now crowded with soldiers,
prisoners, camels, and horses; and, escaping the missiles thrown by
infuriated Moslem women from the housetops, soon overtook Amzi and Asru.
All proceeded at once to the camp of Abu Sofian.
Some large tents were set apart for the wounded Koreish, and here Yusuf
and Amzi found speedy occupation in binding wounds, and giving drinks of
water to the parched soldiers. Manasseh entered with them.
"What means this?" cried Henda. "Did I not have you conveyed, soaked
with blood, among the wounded of the Koreish?"
"I have not been wounded to-day," returned Manasseh. "Read me this
riddle, Henda. There must be a second self--"
"Here, Manasseh!" interrupted Yusuf from one side. "Had you a twin
brother, this must be he."
Yusuf was bending over a youth whose dark eyes spoke of suffering, and
who lay listlessly permitting the priest to bathe his blood-covered
brow. His eyes were fixed on Manasseh, who was quickly coming forward,
and those near wondered at the striking resemblance, more marked than is
often found between brothers.
"Who are you, friend?" asked Manasseh, curiously.
"Kedar the Bedouin!" returned the youth, proudly. "Though how I came
into a Koreish camp, is more than I can explain."
"For that you may thank your resemblance to me," laughed Manasseh. "You
are weak, Kedar, my proud Bedouin, and we will ask you to talk but
little; yet, I pray you, tell me, who was your father?"
"Musa, the Bedouin Sheikh,"--haughtily.
"And your mother was Lois, daughter of Eleazar?"
"Even so," returned the other, wonderingly.
"My cousin!" exclaimed Manasseh, delightedly seizing his hand.
"And son of my Bedouin friend, Musa!" exclaimed Yusuf.
So the Bedouin youth, the rash, hot-headed Moslem recruit, found himself
among friends in a Koreish camp.
Night had now fallen, and under cover of darkness, Mohammed's army
silently returned to Medina.
There were those who censured the prophet for his conduct at this
battle; and some even dared to charge him with deception in promising
them victory. But Mohammed told them that defeat was due to their sins:
"Verily, they among you who turned their backs on the day whereon the
two armies met at Ohod, Satan caused them to slip for some crime which
they had committed."
To quiet those who lamented for their slain friends, he brought forth
the doctrine that the time of every man's death is fixed by divine
decree, and that he must meet it at that time, wherever he be.
In the morning the majority of Abu Sofian's forces set out for Mecca.
Among them were Yusuf and Amzi, also Asru the captain; and it was with
no small sense of comfort that the half-starved prisoners sat again
about Amzi's well-stocked board.
Manasseh was with them. Kedar, scorning to desert the Moslem army, had
refused to leave Medina, and, by the earnest intercession of Yusuf and
Amzi, whose word was of some import in Meccan ears, he had been given
his freedom.
It was with deep relief that all felt the short respite from the blare
of battle; and, though they looked forward to the future with anxious
forebodings, and though their joy was clouded by the death of Dumah,
they were thankful for present blessings. Not alone prayer, but praise,
was an essential part of their religion, and their voices ascended in
song,--
I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be
in thy mouth.
My soul shall make her boast in the Lord; the humble shall hear
thereof, and be glad.
O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together.
I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my
fears.
They looked unto him, and were lightened; and their faces were not
ashamed.
This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of
all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and
delivereth them.
O taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man that
trusteth in him.
O fear the Lord, ye his saints; for there is no want to them that
fear him.