The Sword Of Medina (38 page)

“She has offered to advise me on matters concerning the
khalifa,
and
I have agreed, for I find her wisdom and experience to be incomparable. However, I have asked her—and she has agreed—to remain at her home in Medina, out of the public eye, for the sake of
islam
. We do not need divisiveness or any reminders of it, but unity. In the meantime, I beg you all to leave her in peace, so that she may heal.”

At that moment, however, A’isha appeared among us, making her way to Abdallah’s tent.

“There she is now!” someone cried. “
Yaa
Mother of the Believers! May al-Lah be with you.” He ululated in praise of her, as did I, as did every man among us. As for A’isha, she drew her wrapper more closely about her face and ducked into her nephew’s tent. Yet, before she disappeared, her gaze met mine for an instant. In her luminous eyes I beheld intelligence, as always, and gratitude. In my eyes, I am certain, she beheld sadness of a most profound nature. For I sensed, in that moment, that I would never see A’isha again.

I was standing in the courtyard under the date-palm tree, reciting the
qur’an
, when Abdallah brought me the news. “
Afwan
, aunt,” he said, breaking into my performance, “please, may I speak with you privately? It’s urgent.”

The tears brimming in Abdallah’s eyes filled my mouth with salt. I turned to the men, women, children,
shaykhs
,
hajjat
,
ansari,
Bedouins, Meccans, Companions of Muhammad, and others filling the courtyard and sitting atop its walls. They had come to hear the words of God spoken from the very first—
In the name of al-Lah
—to the very last—
be they djinn or people.
I barely noted how they frowned when I asked to be excused. With legs that quaked, I led my nephew into my hut, moving, once inside, around the graves of Muhammad, my father, and Umar. Foreboding weighted every step as I recalled my dream from the night before, of snarling dogs sinking their fangs into Ali’s throat, filling their mouths with his steaming blood.

“Ali is dead,” Abdallah said once we were inside. I began to tremble.

“How did it happen?” I asked, praying it wasn’t as my dream had shown. “Please, tell me all you know.”

In a faltering voice, Abdallah spoke of the Kharijites, a group of rebels who’d opposed Ali. They had also hated Mu’awiyya, who had proclaimed himself
khalifa
in defiance of Ali. The Kharijites had sent murderers to kill them both, but Mu’awiyya, as lucky as ever, had escaped. Ali, on the other
hand, had been stabbed in the mosque at Kufa as he’d prepared to lead the Friday prayer services.

“He died a few moments later, after calling out to God and His Prophet,” Abdallah said. “May peace be upon him.”

May peace be upon him.
After my nephew had gone to tell my sister-wives the news, I wondered if Ali, in death, had managed to find peace at last. His life had been anything but peaceful. As a warrior, he’d volunteered for every caravan raid, every battle, every expedition Muhammad had called, and he’d been renowned for his ferocity and his skills with his double-bladed sword. But most of Ali’s battles had had little to do with the sword.

Yaa Ali, how alike we were!
As I lay on my bed, tears slid into my hair as I recalled the last time we’d spoken, the pleasure on his face as he’d held that sword in his hands.
Al-Ma’thur
, “The Legacy.” I’d felt that same glow when Muhammad had given it to me, the prized possession of his father and his father’s father.

I’d been happy to give up the sword. The weight of it, hefted so thoughtfully by Ali that day, had burdened me in ways I hadn’t realized. Once it had passed into Ali’s hands, my spirit seemed to leap, lightened.

Use it well in the
jihad
to come
. Those had been Muhammad’s words, uttered on his deathbed, as he’d bequeathed al-Ma’thur to me. He’d been talking about a struggle, and I’d always assumed he referred to the contest for the
khalifa
that had shaken
islam
to its foundations. As I’d stood on that camel, however, I’d realized how the lust for revenge, both mine against Ali and his against me, had poisoned us both, and had tainted
islam
. And as I’d watched the men around me fall, I’d known that this was not the
jihad
of which Muhammad had spoken. This was not the battle he’d wanted me to fight. Hatred and killing were not the legacy Muhammad had intended.

The murmurs and shouts of one hundred Believers, my children, still waiting in the courtyard, pulled me out of my bed and up to my window. My niece, A’isha bint Talha, waved to me; I raised my hand, heavy with grief, and she smiled. Like the wings of a bird, her mouth lifted up at the corners, carrying away my sorrow.

In disabling my camel, Ali had saved my life. He had saved
islam
, also, although he might not have realized it. Here, in my courtyard, was where
the future of our faith resided, not on some blood-soaked battlefield or in the
majlis
of scheming politicians.
Khalifat
would come and go, but His words—the holy
qur’an
—and the
hadith
, the stories about Muhammad’s life—would live forever. Here, at last, was the
jihad
for which I’d been destined: the struggle to keep
islam
in its pure state ever before the minds and hearts of Believers, as Muhammad had envisioned it, as al-Lah had revealed it.

A knock sounded at my door. Little A’isha, her eyes as green as her father Talha’s had been, stood on the other side, smiling, lightening my heart. “
Yaa
Mother of the Believers, we are all waiting,” she said. “We are waiting for you.”

She reached out her hand and I slipped it into mine. I let her lead me across the grass, to the date-palm tree, where I stood in the shade, closed my eyes, and prayed for the words to come, those beautiful words like honey from my lips to those of my children.

“
Bismillah al-rahmani, al-rahim
.”

“In the name of al-Lah, the most Beneficent, the most Merciful.” May peace be upon us all.

abi:
My father

afwan:
Excuse me

ahl al-bayt:
“People of the house,” or family

ansari:
Helpers; the Medina tribes who followed Muhammad

assalaamu aleikum:
“Peace be with you”; a greeting

bint:
Daughter of

dinar:
A gold coin, unit of currency

dirham:
A silver coin, unit of currency

djinni:
A mythical spirit inhabiting the Earth, with supernatural powers

fitna:
Civil war; fighting among Muslims

habib:
Beloved

habibi, habibati:
My beloved

harim:
The inner sanctum where the women of the household reside

hawdaj:
A curtained seat atop a camel

hijab:
The curtain or veil

hilm:
Leadership qualitie

huriya:
“Lovely eyed” companions in Paradise

ibn:
Son of

islam:
Submission (to al-Lah)

Ka’ba (cube):
The name for the sacred shrine in Mecca

kema:
Desert truffles

khalifa:
The successor to Muhammad; the spiritual leader of Sunni Muslims

kunya:
Honorary name given to a mother or father

majnun:
A crazed man

marhaba, marhabtein:
A greeting and its response

miswak:
Tree with an astringent quality, whose twigs are use to clean the teeth

muezzin:
The person who sounds the call to prayer

qur’an:
Recitations; specifically, Muhamad’s recitations from al-Lah

raka’at:
Bows in the ritual of Muslim prayer

sahib:
Friend

samoom:
A violent windstorm that darkens the sky with sand

shaykh:
An old man

tanbur:
A musical instrument, the precursor to the lyre

tharid:
A dish of meat and bread, reputed to be Muhammad’s favorite

umma:
The Muslim community of Believers; also, a mother-land

ummi:
My mother

yaa:
Loose trans. “hey”; a word used before a person’s name to address him or her

wadi:
A (usually dry) riverbed

zauba’ah:
“Devils,” or pillars of sand formed in a samoom