by The Tale of Princess Fatima, Warrior Woman- The Arabic Epic of Dhat al-Himma (retail) (epub)
The amira laughed in exasperation. “Al-Battal, I have nothing to say to you. You are a hopeless romantic.”
A FINAL ADVENTURE1
Years have passed, with Fatima having captured Nura and arranged her marriage to Al-Battal, and Nura having joined the amira’s forces. As this final adventure opens, the Muslim army is camped near Constantinople. The caliph Al-Muʿtasim is with them, and ʿUqba has been executed by his order.
The soldiers saw the Byzantine patriarch approaching on horseback, and they knew instantly that he came as a messenger. The amir ʿAbdelwahhab received him, and the patriarch greeted him respectfully.
“What brings you here?”
“Amir, I come in peace. The emperor would like to offer you two hundred thousand dinars per annum for a truce, to last four years. Winter is upon us, and we are far enough inland that the cold will bring hardship for both of us.”
“This is a matter for the caliph to decide. Excuse me,” and ʿAbdelwahhab left the room. He informed the caliph of the Byzantines’ offer.
“Do as you see fit for the sake of our people. I feel the colic, a disease of my forefathers, coming on. It frightens me.”
ʿAbdelwahhab returned to the patriarch. “Your Eminence, we accept your offer for as long as the truce holds.”
“I hear and obey.” The patriarch departed directly to the emperor to inform him. After delivering the first payment and confirming the agreement, the Byzantine entourage returned to Constantinople.
The Muslim army broke up camp to return to their own lands. When they reached a series of narrow passes, the caliph instructed his army to move ahead of him in groups. Eventually only ʿAbdelwahhab, the Kilabis, and some advisers and camp staff were left with the caliph. ʿAbdelwahhab inquired if the caliph would like to proceed.
“Amir, I feel so ill. Let us remain for a few days.”
“Of course.”
Eleven days later, the camp prepared to move toward Muslim territory. When they reached the narrow pass, a cloud of dust approached from the distance, blocking out the light of the sun. Noticing crosses on the flags and standards, the soldiers drew their swords.
The Christian army was led by Hermes, an island king, who had reached Constantinople days before. Seeing the reinforcements, the emperor Michael opted to break the truce in hope of a decisive victory.
ʿAbdelwahhab called out, “Let’s split into two groups.” Princess Fatima took ten thousand troops with her, and ʿAbdelwahhab took the remainder. It was but a moment before the Rum arrived, Michael’s blue flag flying above them, and the eyes of the two sides met.
“Tell your soldiers to fight hard,” the patriarch advised the emperor. “I see that they’ve split into two groups, and the despicable Dhat al-Himma is coming our way. Her son is leading the other group toward Hermes.”
* * *
—
Princess Fatima took a deep breath and urged her horse forward, her people following in her wake. She grew tired that day in the fray, and many of the people around her were injured. The enemy battalions fought endlessly. At last the Muslim army sought refuge in the mountainside, with the Byzantine soldiers following behind. The two sides camped separately for the night, resuming battle in the morning with renewed vigor. The Byzantine soldiers numbered four thousand. The dust rose above the heads of the combatants, settling on cheeks and brows. Day gave way to night, and the two sides paused again. That evening, Princess Fatima and her son reflected on the situation.
“Sometimes I wonder if all this is worth the effort,” said ʿAbdelwahhab.
His mother replied, “Son, we all die eventually: Wherever you may be, death will overtake you, even if you should be within lofty towers.2 In battle, nothing remains but honesty.”
* * *
—
The fourth day of battle was noticeably colder. Winter had arrived, and the soldiers felt it but remained steadfast. Eventually the Muslim forces split into two groups. Forty of the top fighters slipped into a mountain cave to protect themselves from an onslaught and from the falling snow. They included Princess Fatima; ʿAbdelwahhab; Dinari; Jaʿfar; Lamlaman; Burd; Salih; Hayaj the Kurd; Tariq of the Hijaz; Qaraqid; Mazbahun; Nura, the wife of Al-Battal; and ʿUdhayba, the daughter of Al-Battal. The other group, led by Al-Battal, took another path up the mountain to flee to Muslim lands.
The Rum soldiers came upon the group in the cave that had once been a hermitage. The Rum attacked, but they could not fully enter the dim interior because of the fighters’ resistance. Then a great mound of snow fell across the entrance. The Rum were effectively halted in their attack by this, and those inside were trapped within. Snow fell for thirty-six days, and the Rum retreated. ʿAbdelwahhab had led four horses into the cave. When the group grew hungry, they gradually ate the horses and survived thus for forty days.
* * *
—
When Al-Battal’s group reached Malatya, its people were devastated by the news of the party lost in the cave. Al-Battal asked them if the caliph had returned, and they said he had been injured but had passed through Malatya with four hundred followers. Al-Battal’s troops continued traveling toward the caliph, and at every stop they made, they met with consternation from the residents over the missing fighters. When they reached Samarra, they learned that the caliph Al-Muʿtasim had passed away and had been succeeded by his son, Al-Wathiq Billah. Al-Battal joined in the mourning ceremonies with his followers and then met with the new caliph to report about the borderlands.
The caliph, Al-Wathiq Billah, was visibly moved when he heard of the missing fighters. “I will make the Rum pay. Their sacrifice will not be in vain.” He instructed the highest officials of his government to begin assembling troops for a new offensive on the lands of the Rum. Messages were dispatched to Sham (Syria) and the Hijaz. Reinforcements arrived from Bani Tayy, Bani Kilab, Bani ʿAmir, and Bani Wahid. They wore torn garments, symbolizing their commitment to resolve the tragic loss of the missing company. On the day the fresh troops gathered before their new caliph, they numbered eight hundred thousand, comprising Arabs, Persians, Turks, Daylamites, Kurds, and all those willing to fight on the side of the Muslims against the Byzantine Empire.
That night, the caliph had a strange dream, and the next morning he gathered his advisers experienced in the study of dreams and told them, “I saw the amira Dhat al-Himma with the amir ʿAbdelwahhab. She said to me, ‘Commander of the Faithful, if you want to enter the lands of the Rum, enter through Amorium. Trust in your soldiers, for they served your predecessors.’ Who knows the way through Amorium?”
Al-Battal came forward. He had aged visibly, concerned for his friend ʿAbdelwahhab and his mother, and for his wife, Nura, and his daughter, ʿUdhayba. He said, “I know all the paths. I can take you through that route and ensure that the Rum will never detect our approach until we are upon them, and then it’s in God’s hands. If you want a brilliant scheme, though, I find that all my trickery is spent for the time being.”
“Yes,” the caliph replied, “love is certainly not painless. I feel the loss of the missing fighters just as I feel the loss of my own father. But if God has taken them, then they are surely in a better place than we are.”
When the new army reached Malatya, additional members of Bani Kilab joined the caliph in the march north to seek out their kinsmen. Signs of spring were beginning to show, and the army moved rapidly until they reached Marj al-ʿUyun. There they set up camp, erecting tents and securing flags. Then the leaders gathered around Al-Battal to receive instructions for the next phase of their mission.
* * *
—
The Byzantine patriarch entered the emperor’s council chamber. Emperor Michael interrupted his council’s proceedings and asked, “Father, have you heard of the enemy army’s approach?”
“Yes, and I am concerned about our position. I think you should write to their amir for a truce. He will want payme
nt, but he has managed to unite more tribes than his father or anyone before him. If he demands tribute, our people will welcome a year of stability. If he does not agree, then at least we will have done what we could, and we will leave it in God’s hands.”
The emperor was about to agree when the Venetian king and Hermes entered. Hermes, always enthusiastic for battle, rolled his eyes when he heard the emperor’s plan. Turning to the patriarch, he spluttered, “Father, do you want to shame all of Christendom?! I and my soldiers will single-handedly defeat the enemy! They’re merely peasants, except for the Bani Kilab warriors. Your Majesty,” he said to the emperor, “don’t listen to him. He knows nothing of battle. He knows only about religion and reading scripture.”
The patriarch could see that Hermes’s words were swaying the assembly. He stood and departed.
* * *
—
Hermes and the Rum rode forth with their commanders and warriors, armored in mail and armed with swords. The dust they raised appeared to the Muslim onlookers from far off in the distance, and the day grew dark.
The caliph rode out to meet them. His warriors were fully armored, carrying sharpened spears. They faced the oncoming horde. The Byzantine army raised crosses, and the Arab army hummed with recitation of the Quran. They called out, “For Dhat al-Himma and ʿAbdelwahhab!” The rising dust reached the noses of the riders. Daggers were plunged into hearts. The fire of war raged until the day was done. The battle went to the Arabs, with four hundred soldiers lost. The Byzantine army lost four thousand.
The emperor, looking at the results of the battle, knew that the patriarch had been right to counsel a truce. He gathered together his remaining commanders and said, “We thought the Kilabis were the only threat, but we were wrong. We underestimated their commitment. We should have followed the advice of the patriarch.”
One of the commanders replied, “War is not even. One day you lose, another day you win. We will beat them tomorrow. Don’t worry.”
* * *
—
Following his victory, the caliph Al-Wathiq Billah challenged the Byzantine patriarch to appeal to his ruler and help institute a truce. Shortly thereafter, a message arrived for the caliph. The messenger entered the council room, respectfully bowing to the caliph and greeting him in the manner of kings. The message passed first to the court ushers and then to the vizier, who read it and contemplated it. Then he summarized it for the caliph: “Commander of the Faithful, cease the bloodshed between our two peoples. Follow in the footsteps of your august predecessors. Decree for us as you see fit, annually, as your forefathers did. Let this period of armistice between us be four years.”
The caliph then addressed all the amirs gathered before him: “What do you say? How much annual tribute shall we demand from the Rum?” They all lowered their heads, looking at the floor. The caliph continued: “Let each of you say something. Don’t be afraid. It is for just such matters as this that I asked you here.” Then each one offered a suggestion, based on their own knowledge and experience. Some suggested threats; others expressed their concerns.
Then Al-Battal rose, saying, “Commander of the Faithful, may God support you and have mercy on your predecessors, you have the final word. We recognize that in your upbringing, you have studied the example of those who came before you, and you are trained for these decisions. Whatever you decide, we will accept and follow your decree.”
“Thank you for your vote of confidence, but I am simply following the example of our prophet, who shared in his revelation, ‘Consult them in the matter.’3 If I know anything, I know that you too are a product of this time, and that your opinion has value. So tell me what you think. I know your virtues, even if your tongue can be as sharp as a spear!” Al-Battal recommended sending the messenger back, and avoiding giving up the ground they had gained. The caliph agreed.
When the emperor had received the caliph’s response, he ordered the immediate preparation of a series of messages. They were written in short order and promptly attached to homing pigeons, which were released into the air. By evening, all the birds had returned to their perches. The keeper of the pigeons took each bird from its perch and removed the message attached to it. He went to the emperor’s council room and requested permission to enter. The door was opened for him, and he went in. He passed a message to the emperor’s adviser. Reading the message, the adviser smiled and said, “We have received promises of aid from all our assistant kings.”
* * *
—
The caliph ordered his soldiers to find the cave in which the Kilabi leaders had sheltered, and to search it. They should bury any bodies they found and make a marker to honor the dead. The soldiers searched the cave but found no remains of the leaders. The caliph himself entered the cave, carrying a torch. He surveyed the corpses of various soldiers from both sides who had fallen at the cave’s entrance, and ordered their burial.
Later the caliph discussed the situation with Al-Battal, who suggested, “Perhaps after the Rum retreated, the snow melted, and wild animals entered the cave and took the soldiers out to the wilderness, where they devoured them. Or perhaps the Rum returned and took them, dead or alive.”
“It’s so disturbing,” said the caliph with a sigh. “If only someone could tell me what happened to them, I would provide a handsome reward.”
“If only I knew they were alive, even in the farthest land, I would travel there, even if it meant my death. There is a scholar near here named Tayyibun who is known for his astrology; why don’t you see what he can tell us?”
“Bring him to me.”
* * *
—
Tayyibun approached the caliph, bowing in greeting. Al-Wathiq Billah indicated for him to come closer and said, “I hear that you can read the stars, and I am concerned about the loss of a party of our leaders. It weighs heavily on my heart that we have not even been able to ascertain whether they are alive or dead. Is there anything you can do to help?”
“Your Majesty, it would take me days to determine this. I must consider all the planets and their positions, both now and in the past, in terms of their horoscopes.”
“Spare no expense. We will stay here one week while you work on it.”
Al-Battal reminded the caliph, “Your Majesty, the emperor has no doubt written to his assistant kings by messenger pigeon. If we stay here for a week while Tayyibun works on this, the Rum will likely be approaching by land and sea. Perhaps you could send a message to the emperor offering a truce if he can provide information regarding the whereabouts of the missing party.”
The caliph dispatched a group of soldiers to Constantinople to ask the emperor for any news about the missing party. The soldiers were admitted into the emperor’s council room, but the emperor swore he had no knowledge of the missing party. The messengers returned, and Tayyibun’s services were engaged immediately.
Tayyibun was left alone with his assistants. For seven days, he wrote out calculations. Then he came before the caliph and said, “Your Majesty, I determined their horoscopes based on the information you provided. Then I consulted the tablets of life and death, and I saw them in the tablet of life. That is all I can say.”
The caliph felt a degree of relief. With this mysterious news, he ordered his troops to Constantinople to engage the enemy.
* * *
—
As for the amirs in the cave, after the landslide of snow sealed the entrance, they survived for forty days on horse meat and melted snow. Then they began to feel hungry again. When they explored the farthest reaches of the cave, they discovered a narrow subterranean vault. The only way they could pass through it was by sliding on their stomachs. One said encouragingly to the others, “I’m willing to try it. God is either giving us a way out, or we’re dying nobly, carrying out a mission for our people.”
All the amirs slipped through the narrow opening, one after another. It widen
ed into a hall with a vaulted ceiling, in the center of which hung a burning lamp, too high for any hand to reach. They exchanged looks of surprise and confusion, and then their eyes fell upon an extraordinary bed, on which lay a dead person. ʿAbdelwahhab approached and saw that the man looked peaceful. There was an earthen vessel to the side of the bed. ʿAbdelwahhab lifted the lid and found that it contained a dried substance. He lifted a piece to his mouth, but the amira swatted his hand.
“Don’t! It could be poison.”
“Let me try it. If it’s poison, so be it.” ʿAbdelwahhab tasted a tiny morsel. “It’s sweet, and tasty!”
The other amirs were quick to join in the tasting. The mysterious substance was a rich and densely nutritious food that sustained them miraculously. They found nothing in the spacious chamber except for the bed, its occupant, and the covered dish. There was no silver, gold, or other possessions.
ʿAbdelwahhab commented, “What a strange place. In a burial chamber of this size, one would expect the man to have been a king of ancient times, with treasures surrounding him. This corpse has nothing of the sort. There is nothing that marks him as a ruler. The most amazing part is the food, which tastes like it was prepared quite recently. And then there is the lamp that burns without any hand tending it. . . .”
“Son,” said the amira, “maybe someone removed his possessions. The food must have been prepared with some special technique to prevent aging. As for the lamp, someone must come to tend it from time to time.”
It so happened that the food was specially prepared, as the amira suggested, and anyone who ate it would be sustained for one month without any hunger or need for eliminating wastes. Having learned all they could about the chamber, the amirs turned toward the narrow opening to return to their cave, only to find that a rock had shifted and was blocking the opening. They exchanged looks of alarm and resignation. Some sat and began reciting names of God and meditating. Others prayed, not knowing what time it was in the outside world. They could not distinguish night from day, but they felt neither thirst nor hunger for an entire month. They commiserated with one another: “This is never how we expected to die!”