As Abu Rakwa watched the ever changing scene, Shihab al Din, Yahya, and Hammu rode up with the tremendous news that their warriors had decisively defeated al-Hakim’s forces. They had also cut off their lines of retreat so that only a few had managed to escape.
“We made them feel the bitter taste of thirst,” said Hammu enthusiastically, “something they’ll never experience again till the day they’re sent to hellfire. When we came at them with our swords, their tongues were as parched as the very desert sands, dangling from their mouths as they tried to lick up their own sweat.”
“God forgive you!” Abu Rakwa commented by way of reproof. “Tell me instead that you’ve fought with honor. The Zanata fought bravely, didn’t they, Shihab al-Din?”
“Most certainly, Abu Rakwa,” Shihab al-Din replied, realizing the imam’s import. “The same applies to all our warriors to whom God Almighty has given a clear victory. There is a great deal of booty. Competent men are now assessing amounts and preparing to distribute it. The enemy lost a thousand dead and wounded, and there are more than two thousand prisoners, including Yanal the Tall, the Turkish commander.”
“Yanal the Tall?” Abu Rakwa asked. “How many Yanals do they have? Isn’t he the one we killed before entering Barqa in triumph?”
“The Yanal who had the singular honor of being killed at your hand were merely a poor soldier. He managed to fool us by adopting the guise of the real Yanal so that the latter could escape, and—God curse him—he succeeded.”
“We’ll deal with that after you’ve told me how many dead and wounded there are on our side.”
For just a moment Shihab al-Din frowned, but then he noticed Abu Rakwa’s anger rising.
“Just a few,” he said, “a hundred and twenty warriors, all of whom are guaranteed a place in paradise. Fifty-one wounded, among them …”
“Who?”
“Abu al-Mahasin, Imam. He was treacherously struck from behind. He’s lying on his bed being tended by the very best doctors.”
“Your mercy, O God! Take me to him at once, then go and issue properly treated.”
Abu Rakwa rushed after the three men as they made their way toward Abu al-M alias in “s quarters. When he reached the door of the tent, the chief doctor told him that Abu al-Mahasin’s condition was very grave. “We’ve done everything we can to stop the bleeding,” he told the imam. “Ask for God’s mercy on him, Abu Rakwa!” Abu Rakwa told everyone to go about their business, then sat down alongside Abu al-Mahasin. He placed one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest.
“This isn’t the time for us to say farewell, Abu al-Mahasin,” he said, stifling his tears. “We still need you badly for the decisive battle.”
“God forgive you, Abu Rakwa,” interrupted Abu al-Mahasin. “Aren’t you the one who said that our lives are in God’s hands?”
“I ask His forgiveness, the best of guarantors. You are right, O noble Muslim. Forgive my fear of losing you, you who are such a stalwart supporter of our cause and give us the benefit of your sage opinions.”
“I praise God for granting us this victory and for making me one of the first martyrs in our cause. I have only ever wanted to fulfill the Prophet’s wishes, to fight in the cause of God; to fight, then live, then fight again and live again. I am destined to die, and your consolation must be with Shihab al-Din once you have tamed his impetuous nature, with the Zanata, the Banu Qurra, and others who will join the cause. Surround yourself with such folk and relish their sense of unity and fraternity. You are bound to achieve your goal and bequeath to future generations the best of what is past. To God we belong and to Him do we return.”
After Abu al-Mahasin had said those words, he recited the statement of faith. The two men then embraced, and with one last gasp Abu al-Mahasin was gone. For a moment Abu Rakwa stood there with tears flowing, then with bloodshot eyes he left to greet people outside. “Get some people to help you bury our dead warriors as they are,” he told Yahya. “Others should wash the body of Abu al-Mahasin and his dead comrades. God willing, we will say prayers over them.”
Following Abu al-Mahasin’s death a day or two passed. Abu Rakwa chose to stay in his tent, receiving numerous reports from his assistants. Once in a while he went out to confirm bits of information that he kept hearing about the good mood of not merely people in general but particularly his warriors; they were bursting with enthusiasm and champing at the bit for the major confrontation to come. They kept asking him over and over again about this battle, but he would always reply, “Finding patience among all of you is rarer than a mosquito’s brain! As long as you insist on adopting a weak position, you’ll never even get a date from a crow.”
“And what exactly is that weak position, God preserve you?” they asked.
“Excessive haste,” was the reply.
With that they left him alone and went on their way. “Our imam certainly knows the way things are!” they told each other by way of explanation.
In the ensuing months events piled up on one another. Abu Rakwa was not used to the pace. Every month brought with it new situations. These he pondered carefully, using them as inspiration for a whole series of recorded thoughts. One Ramadan night in A.H. 396 he was engrossed in his reading and note-taking, when a heavily armed man managed to sneak his way into his tent. He greeted the imam and sat down close by.
“Forgive me. Imam,” he said, “for visiting you in this way. When you hear why I’ve come, I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion.”
Abu Rakwa was not in the slightest bit afraid. “I trust it’s good news, young man,” he said. “But tell me first who you are and where you’re from.”
“I am ‘Ali ibn Husayn ibn Jawhar from Sicily.”
“Are you the son of al-Hakim’s chief general?”
“Yes, I am indeed, Abu Rakwa,” the young man replied, “and I am here as his emissary to you. I didn’t march to Barqa. However, I was actually there ahead of you, looking after my father’s interests and pretending to serve al-Hakim as commander of its garrison. When you entered the city victorious with your army, I hid for a few days in an underground grainstore. That gave me time to think about my and plan an escape. The day I disguised myself as a beggar and got out, I vowed to assassinate you and then escape back to Cairo.”
“How could you do that when there’s so much hatred between al-Hakim and your father? in whose interest would you be committing such a dastardly deed?”
“If I’d done any such thing—heaven forbid!—it wouldn’t have been to curry favor with al-Hakim. I loathe him just as much as everyone does. The reason would have been to eliminate all the doubts and rumors being put about by al-Hakim’s spies to the effect that my father is secretly in league with you and encouraging you to enter Egypt.”
“So what prevented you from carrying out your foul deed?”
“It was that sermon you gave. Imam! Your words hit me fresh and true; they convinced me that you are indeed the true religious leader and guide. When you finished, I left the mosque still in disguise. I was cursing myself. To kill you, I told myself, would be akin to murdering righteous people—something that is totally forbidden. I took a horse from one of my former aides and rode to the site near Cairo where my father was encamped so I could tell him about your virtuous deeds. Now here I am back again with a letter from my father, along with an attestation from his son-in-law, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz ibn Nu‘man, the chief judge. In the letter he salutes you and urges you to conquer Egypt and overthrow the tyrannical rule of al-Hakim. He promises you the support of the Sicilians and Kutamis and all other soldiers under his command.”
Abu Rakwa took the letter from his visitor and studied it carefully. “It’s late at night,” he said, “and you look very tired. Leave me with your father’s letter and choose a room for yourself to get some sleep, Tomorrow, God willing, you will attend a meeting with our warrior leaders to prepare for the conquest of Egypt. Now, ‘Ali, go in peace.”
“As you command, Abu Rakwa. Tomorrow I’ll awai
t your command to attend the planning meeting that augurs a great future.”
The visitor left as surreptitiously as he had come in. Abu Rakwa. started to read Ibn Jawhar’s letter. Then he snuffed out the candle and went to sleep.
Early next morning (a Thursday), Abu Rakwa learned that the imprisoned commander, Yanal the Tall, had been killed by Shihab al-Din after a bitter argument. The imam immediately thought of summoning Shihab al-Din and severely reprimanding him for his action, but he decided against it. With the cause of unity and the imminence of a decisive battle in mind, he stifled his anger. However, while he was still pondering the whole matter, Shihab al-Din entered his tent, nervous and red-faced, and greeted the imam.
“No doubt you’ve heard about what happened early this morning,” he said. “My excuse for what I did to Yanal the accursed is that he would get away from us again and become another Hamad al-Madi, a thorn in our sides and a barrier to our forward advance. All I meant to do was to hobble him, but he insulted your status as imam, then spat at me twice in the face, saying: “One for you, and the other for your phony imam.” The insult was too much, and I lost my temper. I gave him a sword. For a while we parried, but then I managed to impale him in the stomach and split his head in twain. He fell to the ground drowning in his own foul blood.”
“Hamad al-Madi certainly is a thorn in our flesh,” said Abu Rakwa, trying to calm things down. “You’re right about that, Have you any idea how to crush this thorn?”
“By making sure we don’t delay our advance.”
“So we must make haste and move toward the decisive engagement. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes indeed, Abu Rakwa! At this point time is a formidable weapon in our hands. We can either make full use of it to achieve our goals, or else waste it, in which case we’ll be the ones who’ll be eliminated.”
“What about the rest of the prisoners? What do you think we should do with them?”
‘They’re all leaning toward your cause, they’d prefer to bolster our numbers rather than go back to Egypt where they’re sure to die.”
“Nevertheless release all the wounded who want to return home. Now go back to our camp and tell the shaykhs that after today’s evening prayer I shall await them in my tent. We will discuss our forthcoming battle. Don’t forget to invite Hammu and Yahya. Now go and find Shaykh Zaydan the Mazati.”
Shihab al-Din had only been gone a short while before the Mazati shaykh entered the tent to see the imam. He warmly greeted Abu Rakwa, and in return was welcomed and honored by his host. The two men sat on mats, sipping cups of green tea and chatting about a variety of issues: Sunni jurisprudence, Shi‘ism and Isma’ilism, and whether the Fatimid ruler al-Hakim could be legally anathematized. Once in a while the two men disagreed on a point. For example, the Mazati shaykh, who by inclination adhered to the Hanafi school of law, expressed his regret that Sunni Islam should be divided up into schools and sects.
“Abu Rakwa,” he said, “the imams of Islam are men just like us. We have to interpret the law just as they did. Since Abu Hanifa Nu‘man himself made that statement, I agree with it. It is the disciples and followers of those imams who went wrong. When they all split up into different sects and schools, they allowed the unity of the religion to be compromised. Worse than that, they introduced heresies and innovations by indulging in varieties of sin and unbelief and sowing discord. I ask you, Abu Rakwa, is it conceivable that there should be a single truth, and yet those who receive it are divided into a number of different schools?”
“The truth is indeed one, Zaydan,” Abu Rakwa replied, “and God’s messages are unchanging, However humanity is numerous and varied, and its circumstances are continually in a process of transformation. That explains their division into different religious communities and creeds. Every community is subdivided into sects and groups. There are different modes of interpretation and schisms. All that is God’s practice with His servants.”
“If that’s your view, then why don’t you leave al-Hakim the Fatimid Caliph alone?”
“Because he won’t leave us alone. But, even if fear and religious piety did cause him to leave us alone, it would still be the solemn obligation of every Muslim to fight him and his dominion. How can we possibly ignore the fact that he has ruined the lives and destroyed the souls of countless human beings whom God has honored; that he has transcended the limits of interpretation into the realms of schism, and from there into murder? He has become insane enough to deify himself and become enmired in the direst perdition. No, no, by Him who is Lord of East and West, there being no other god but He, I will fight al-Hakim till God’s servants are rid of him and restore to them the signs of justice and honor. Should I fail, then God is my steward who will wreak His promised revenge on heretics. Whoever associates with God anything, as is as though he has fallen from Heaven and the birds snatch him away, or the wind sweeps him headlong into a place far away.”
“Yes indeed, Abu Rakwa, your struggle is indeed the right one. May God come to your aid and grant you victory. I pledge all the support that my own dwindling powers can provide for you, sometimes giving you my own opinion and at others listening to your moments of joy and concern.”
“May God bless you and give you long life, illustrious shaykh! Now let’s talk about Barqa for a while.”
“If al-Hakim’s army left us alone and ended the conflict, we could be the happiest of people in our own territory, It’s a blessed land. God has provided it with qualities found nowhere else. In some parts you can find oil that is an antidote for scabies, cough, and skin rash. Everywhere is tinged by a gentle red color; I notice, Abu Rakwa, that your own clothes bear some traces of it, as happens with all its inhabitants. You only get rid of it when you leave the region of Barqa.”
“The red color is most welcome! Let it be red till victory!”
“And then there’s the green that surrounds us on all sides. That mountain that you see enveloping the city has a thick forest of juniper trees, and the slopes provide rich pasturage where our flocks can graze safely as they praise their God.”
“Yes indeed, Zaydan, ever since I took up residence on this roof, those very junipers and green pastures have always been with me in my hours of solitude.”
“The verdure extends as far as the open spaces to the north where there’s a profusion of fruit trees, citron, quince, and walnut. They provide us with different kinds of fruit throughout the year.”
“Dear colleague, if we weren’t going to embark on the crucial confrontation with al-Hakim the Fatimid, I’d ask you to take me to those open spaces tomorrow so we could spend the day there relaxing and strolling around. So let’s make that a promise for the future if God grants us victory!”
“Should God grant you victory, Abu Rakwa, it’s a promise. And if not, then you have an even greater reward dwelling in the gardens of eternal life.”
“True enough, Zaydan! And what of the other boons of this land?”
“There’s good, fresh animal meat, pure honey, tar, wool, and cotton. They’re all taken away for al-Hakim’s troops, either for a paltry price or else by sheer plunder and aggression. The tribes of the Barqa region, Bedouin of the Banu Qurra, Berbers of Zanata and al-Hakim, and Arabized Mizata Berbers, had no name for their common enemy nor for the fruits of their land till God sent you to us in order to unite us in His religion and to grant His word triumph over the forces of tyranny.”
With those words the shaykh stood up to take his leave. Abu Rakwa stood up too and escorted his guest to the tent entrance, clasping his arm.
“Don’t forget that walk we are going to take, Zaydan, if God grants us victory. Beyond that I promise that you will serve as prayer-leader whenever I have to be away. Also don’t forget to come to the meeting of tribal shaykhs this evening.”
Zaydan nodded his head in agreement as he patted Abu Rakwa’s shoulders and wished him all success.
Shortly after the evening prayer the tribal shaykhs started gathering at Abu Rakwa’s tent. They
shook his hand and sat down in their places; they were sipping cups of tea and exchanging small talk and compliments. The last to arrive were Shihab al-Din, Hammu. and Yahya, accompanied by ‘Ali ibn Jawhar and Shaykh Zaydan the Mazati. No sooner had they greeted the imam and the assembled shaykhs and taken their places than Abu Rakwa addressed them all, “Greetings, illustrious lords,” he said, his facial expression a beacon of good news. “By God, this is indeed a great night! As you all know, we’re gathered here to consider the final measures to be taken before our worthy warriors enter Egypt. They will arrive as conquerors, not raiders; they will bring glad tidings of justice and unified faith, not of tyranny and oppression. More than ever before we are now embarked on a decisive campaign during which we are going to rely completely on Him who alone possesses the glory and majesty. Dispatches keep arriving from Egypt filled with accounts of people’s complaints against al-Hakim the tyrant, of pleas that we come and rescue them, and of heartfelt prayers for our victory and success. The field marshal of the Fatimid army. al-Husayn ibn Jawhar of whom you have all heard, no doubt, has sent us his son, ‘Ali, whom you have all met, charging him to assure us of his loyal and steadfast support for our cause. He has also sent a letter. I have read it, and I want you all to hear its contents so that you can all gauge for yourselves the kind of conspiracies al-Hakim is hatching against us and the preparations he is making for our arrival. After the traditional invocations of God’s name, here is what he has to say:
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