Mother of the Believers Part 27

"So here is the great Hamza," she hissed like a cobra, her voice echoing through the valley. "They said you had the heart of an eagle and the liver of a lion. Let's see if that is true."

Hind grabbed a b.l.o.o.d.y knife from among the many weapons that had been dropped in the heat of battle. And to my horror, she cut deep into Hamza's side and tore open his flesh. With her bare hands, she dug into the dead man's flesh like a butcher ripping off fat from a shank of lamb. And then she tore out Hamza's liver.

My stomach quivered violently in disgust as I watched Hind hold up Hamza's liver high for the men of both camps to see. And then she put it in her mouth and ate it, the blood of Muhammad's beloved uncle dripping down the sides of her mouth. She chewed it and swallowed, and then retched violently. Hind doubled over, vomiting back a portion of the human flesh she had consumed before all.

And then her gagging cough turned into a maniacal laugh and she grabbed the knife and proceeded to cut off Hamza's nose and ears.

I heard moans and cries of horror from both camps. The pagan Arabs had strict taboos against disfiguring the dead of their enemies, and what Hind was doing was beyond even the meager moral restraints that their primitive religion imposed on their souls. But Hind seemed utterly oblivious to the disgust of her own people, and she began to sway like a kite in the wind.

And then, human blood still dripping from her plump lips, Hind began to dance and sing around the mutilated body of her enemy. She tore open her robes and smeared the blood of Hamza across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I could see the curve of her ample bosom as she stripped off her gold necklaces.

"O beauties of Mecca, throw off your jewels! Renounce gold and pearls! For there is no greater treasure than the flesh of our enemies!"

And with these words she whirled victoriously around the corpse of Hamza. Her madness spread to the other women like a disease. Suddenly they, too, descended on the bodies of our martyrs, tearing off their noses and ears. And then following her lurid example, they tied their b.l.o.o.d.y trophies with string and wore the human remains as jewelry. With their new prizes, they began to spin and swoon, their eyes thrown back so far into their skulls that only the whites remained. Their dance was raw and s.e.xual.

Even though I wanted to close my eyes, it was impossible to stop watching. It was as if I were seeing a ritual so dark and ancient that it outdated the memory of man. The absolute purity of her evil was both revolting and mesmerizing, and I felt my heart pound. It was as if Hind had awakened some dark part of the soul that is buried so deep that touching it would unleash a force of transformation that went beyond life or death. It was at once terrifying and seductive and I felt myself being swept into the maelstrom of her madness.

And then Abu Sufyan rode up beside his wife and the spell was broken. He looked down at her obscene dance with unmitigated disgust.

"Enough! This is beneath us!"

Hind stopped spinning and crouched low on the ground, like a wolf prepared to strike. And then she took her hands, smeared with Hamza's blood, and ran them across her face until her cheeks were streaked in human offal.

Abu Sufyan turned away from her, unable to comprehend how far his wife had fallen. He rode toward the base of Uhud and called out to us.

"War goes by turns, my friends, and today was our day," he said in a booming voice. "All praise be to Hubal and the G.o.ds of Mecca! The dead of Badr have been avenged. We are now even."

And then I saw Umar arise from among the survivors gathered on the hill. With Hamza dead, he was now the most feared and revered of our warriors.

"G.o.d is Highest, Supreme in Majesty! We are not equal. Our dead are in Paradise, and your dead are in h.e.l.l!"

Abu Sufyan stared up at Umar, and then he shook his head as if he would never understand this strange tribe that was in its own way as mad as his wife. He rode back to the camp to begin preparations for the long trek home.

The battlefield was now empty, except for the desecrated corpses. Unable to bear the sight, I turned my attention to Abu Sufyan, who was leading his forces out of the pa.s.s, and saw the different flags and markers of the tribes. I recognized the symbols of the clans of Mecca like the wolf of the Makhzum and the eagle of Bani Abd ad-Dar. But other pennants belonged to the rival tribes that had little friendship with Mecca, from the double-headed snake of Taif to the horned rams of the Bedouins of the Najd. These old adversaries had come together to defeat their common enemy-Muhammad.

It suddenly struck me that Abu Sufyan had successfully marshaled the warring Arab tribes to the south, even as the Messenger was attempting to unify the north. Arabia was on its way to becoming one nation, and its character would be determined by which alliance ultimately gained the upper hand in this bitter conflict.

In that moment, I realized what we were fighting for. Islam stood as a lonely light flickering in a wasteland covered in darkness. If Hind and her ilk were allowed to win this struggle, barbarism would prevail and eventually spread beyond the boundaries of Arabia like a plague. Our people would become a living curse on mankind, a nation diseased at heart that would pull the world into turmoil from which it would never return.

We had been defeated at Uhud, and now the pagan tribes would see us as weak. They would prepare to pounce on us like hyenas on a wounded lamb. If we surrendered to their combined might, the light of hope would vanish in the sands and something even more monstrous would be born in its wake. Either Arabia would unite under our banner, or it would fight beneath the veil of Hind. And the unsuspecting nations that surrounded us, torn apart by centuries of warfare and corruption, would either be rejuvenated by the message of Islam or fall victim to the unified might of a barbarian horde bent on destruction.

I understood now that the battle for Arabia was not about the survival of a new religion. It was about the survival of civilization itself.

Book Three

Birth of a Nation

1 Medina-AD 625

We buried the mutilated dead on the slopes of Uhud and returned to Medina, where news of our loss sent waves of grief and panic among the people. Suddenly small voices could be heard wondering why G.o.d had abandoned us on the battlefield, unlike at Badr, where He had sent angels to our aid. Soon the voices become louder and some began to question whether our first victory had been merely the product of dumb luck and there had not been any divine intervention in the first place.

The grumbling was silenced by the revelation of verses in the Qur'an that placed the blame for our defeat squarely on our own shoulders. Had the archers not been overcome with greed and fled their posts, victory would have been certain. We could not blame G.o.d for our own failings. It was an important lesson, and the people began to see Uhud as a sign from G.o.d that His favor was bestowed on the Muslims not because of who they were but because of how they acted. And this point soon became another way to differentiate us from our increasingly antagonistic Jewish neighbors. The Prophet warned that some of the Jews-although, he stressed, not all-had come to see themselves as deserving of G.o.d's blessings as a birthright, without any corresponding moral obligations on their own end, and this had led to their downfall throughout history. Islam had come to erase that sense of tribal ent.i.tlement and replace it with individual moral responsibility.

The Jews did not deign to respond to this new charge against them, but their leaders made it clear that Muhammad's humiliation at Uhud should serve as a reminder that the future of the oasis was not as clear as the Muslims would like to believe. And they were right.

It was the realization of our precarious position in the aftermath of defeat that forced the Messenger to hold a secret a council of his closest Companions. A handful of the most influential members of our community met inside my tiny apartment, with guards placed in the courtyard of the Masjid to ward off any eavesdroppers.

My father pulled his beard, which had begun to turn from gray to cloudy white.

"Now that the Meccans have tasted victory, they think we are weak," he said grimly. "It will not be long before they attack Medina again with a stronger force."

Umar grunted in a.s.sent.

"We must make new allies among the Arab tribes if we wish to mount a defense," he said, leaving unspoken the obvious fact that our Jewish neighbors could not be relied upon to uphold their end of the treaty if Abu Sufyan invaded.

Ali leaned forward.

"The Bedouin tribe of Bani Amir is well armed, and they have no love for Mecca."

I wrinkled my forehead at the mention of the unfamiliar tribe, and then I remembered that the Bani Amir were shepherds who brought their flocks to pasture in Medina every spring. Their wool was actually quite decent, with thick curls that made excellent blankets during the cold winter months, and their shearings sold well in the marketplace. They had remained neutral in our conflict with Mecca, but they definitely had a vested economic interest in the prosperity of the settlement.

Uthman nodded favorably at Ali's suggestion.

"I know their chieftain, Abu Bara. He is an honorable man and would be a useful ally."

My father coughed, as if he often did when he had to make an indelicate comment.

"I have heard that Abu Bara's leadership is in question," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Rumor is that his nephew Husam is seeking to displace him.

Uthman frowned. The complex nuances of such a power struggle could not be grasped by his simple and straightforward nature. A fact that would cause much grief to the Ummah Ummah in years to come. in years to come.

"Husam has many friends in Mecca," he conceded with some difficulty. "If he seizes control of the Bani Amir and allies them with Abu Sufyan, we will face a formidable enemy."

Umar banged his hand on his knee.

"Then we must unite his tribe clearly with the Muslims," he said with his customary intensity. "If we can forge relations of blood and marriage between us, it will cement an alliance."

There was a long silence as the Messenger's counselors considered their options. Marriage as a means of establishing treaties between peoples had a long and honored tradition in Arabia. But the question remained as to who among the notoriously independent Bani Amir would be amenable to a match with the Muslims and whom they could be paired with to forge an alliance that would justify the Bedouin risking their lives in Medina's wars.

And then Ali spoke, his voice ringing like a bell in the small room.

"Zaynab, the daughter of Khuzayma, is a member of the Bani Amir."

Umar's bushy eyebrows rose.

"The widow of Ubayda?"

Ali nodded. And then I had a flash of memory of courageous Ubayda on the plain of Badr, his leg cut off by the dying Utbah. He had been the first Muslim to be killed in battle and had expired with his head in the Prophet's lap. I knew his young widow, Zaynab bint Khuzayma, in pa.s.sing. She was a quiet soul, who spent most of her time helping Fatima by feeding the People of the Bench or distributing alms to the needy. I had heard the Messenger once refer to her admiringly as "the Mother of the Poor."

Zaynab was a frail woman whose body was malnourished and small, and I found it hard to imagine that this plain, ghostly lady would find a suitor easily. Glancing at the dubious looks on the faces of the other men, I gathered that they were thinking similar thoughts.

Ali turned to face the Prophet, who had sat uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire discussion. My husband looked worn and tired, and I knew that he was still grieving for Hamza and the dead of Uhud.

"Zaynab is a cousin of the chief of Bani Amir and can turn his heart in our favor," Ali said. And then he added words that immediately shook my world. "If the Messenger were to marry her, it would create a powerful bond between the Muslims and the Bedouins."

I felt bile rising in my stomach.

"You are quick to offer my husband's hand in marriage!"

Ali looked at me with those unreadable green eyes. If he was stung by the vehemence of my reaction, he did not show it.

"I meant no offense," he said simply. "But the Messenger is the head of our community. For the Bedouins, only a marriage between leaders of tribes would be sufficient to earn their allegiance."

I sat back sullenly, my arms folded across my chest in defiance. Of course what Ali said made perfect sense from a practical point of view. But I was in no mood for practicality. I had already been forced to contend with one young sister-wife because of the Messenger's political needs. And now I was being asked to accept another woman in Muhammad's bed for the sake of state policy.

The Messenger did not look at me. He sat quietly, considering Ali's words. When he spoke, there was a calm decisiveness in his voice that I had not heard since the tragedy at Uhud.

"Zaynab bint Khuzayma is a good woman," my husband said. "She is kind to the poor. And she is the first widow of Badr. I know of none worthier to become a Mother of the Believers."

I felt my heart sink as the Messenger turned to face Ali.

"Send her my proposal. If she accepts, invite Abu Bara to the wedding and let us make a treaty with his tribe."

Ali nodded and rose to leave. I could not help but give him a furious look as he walked out. He met my eyes, and for a second I saw cold disapproval in his glance. I felt a sudden flash of outrage at his judgmental stare, as well as an inkling of shame at my own jealousy. But as Ali walked out, my wounded pride won the struggle inside me, and I bit my lip in fury until I drew blood.

2.

The Messenger married Zaynab bint Khuzayma a fortnight later, and a fourth apartment was built, the newest, just north of Hafsa's stone hut. Abu Bara, the head of Bani Amir, attended the wedding of his cousin and publicly proclaimed that the Bedouin tribe was now bound by blood to Medina. The alliance had been successfully formed, and the Messenger's political marriage had closed the c.h.i.n.ks in our armor after the humiliation of Uhud.

And it was an alliance that was tested almost immediately. Abu Bara's ambitious nephew tried to disrupt the pact by leading a renegade group of his tribesmen to attack a Muslim hunting party that wandered into Bani Amir territory. The survivors of the attack hid in the wilderness and took their vengeance on a group of Bani Amir shepherds who were innocent of complicity in the plot.

The dangerous cycle of retaliation had begun and the Prophet wisely offered to ease tensions with the Bedouins by paying a hefty sum to settle the claims of the shepherds' grieving families. The sum demanded-a thousand gold dirhams-was substantial and posed a significant strain on the Bayt al-Mal, Bayt al-Mal, the Muslim treasury. And so the Prophet sent Ali to seek financial support from the Jewish tribes in accordance with our old treaty. the Muslim treasury. And so the Prophet sent Ali to seek financial support from the Jewish tribes in accordance with our old treaty.

When I heard this, I shook my head in disbelief.

"The Jews have long forgotten our treaty," I said to him one day as we sat in my room eating roasted lamb from a wooden bowl.

The Messenger's hand brushed against mine as he reached in for a shank, and I could feel the coolness of his fingers beside my own. He took the soft shoulder meat and bit down, savoring its delicate taste.

"If our friends have forgotten the pact, then perhaps it is time to remind them," Muhammad said, as if he were discussing a small bill of goods to be paid in the bazaar.

But I knew that it was not as simple as that. Blood had been spilled and one of the Jewish tribes was now in exile. Pressuring the remaining Jews to pay for a blood feud between the Muslims and the Bedouins would place an even greater strain on relations between the two communities.

And then as I looked into the Messenger's twinkling black eyes, I realized that he understood this. This was a test of Medina's power in the aftermath of Uhud. If the Jews failed to honor the treaty, there would no longer be any question as to where their allegiance lay. And with Mecca now a.s.suredly plotting to fan the brushfire that been ignited at Uhud, we could not afford to have neighbors whose intentions were hostile. The Jewish fortresses guarded the mountain pa.s.ses into the city. Their disloyalty could prove disastrous should Abu Sufyan's forces again march up the hills toward the heart of Medina.

There was no more time for guessing-the truth of our political situation had to be a.s.sessed now. And the blood settlement provided an innocuous means of testing the waters. If the Jewish tribes renounced their obligations under the treaty, the Messenger would have ample reason to expel them from the oasis.

It was an utterly ingenious stratagem. If the Jews paid the Bani Amir, they would be held accountable for any future treaty obligations by a well-armed third party. And if they refused to pay, the Bani Amir would join forces with the Muslims and remove their threat from the doorstep of Medina. I realized that the Messenger would win either way.

I saw the Prophet smile as if he read my thoughts. As he continued to eat heartily of the lamb, I felt a surge of relief that I was his wife and not his adversary.

THREE DAYS LATER, I was walking alone through the marketplace. My husband had been invited to a dinner at the home of Huyayy ibn Akhtab, the leader of the Jewish tribe of Bani Nadir. His request for their help in paying the blood money to the Bedouins had been received with surprising graciousness. Huyayy had sent word that he wished to begin a new era in relations between their peoples. They worshiped the same G.o.d, after all, and both communities had a vested interest in the security and prosperity of the oasis. And so he offered to host a feast of reconciliation at which the Messenger would be his honored guest.

The Prophet had departed to attend the gathering with a small band of his Companions. In his absence, I decided to make a trip to the bazaar and see what new goods had arrived on the morning caravan. As I walked through the paved alleys of the city, I marveled at how things had changed in the past few years. Medina had been a dirty and unkempt town, where the streets were littered with refuse and camel dung. Women could not step outside alone without fear of hara.s.sment or worse by drunken tribesmen. The heady smell of khamr khamr had hung over the town like a drunken cloud. had hung over the town like a drunken cloud.

But now the cobbled stones were whitewashed and crumbling walls had been rebuilt. Women and children now walked about freely, although the imposition of the Muslim head scarf was still the subject of grumbling by some of the prettier girls, who were accustomed to parading their luxurious locks as a means of enticing a husband.

But the most remarkable change was the ban on wine. Initially Muslims were permitted to drink alcohol, even though the Messenger himself would not touch any strong drink that befuddled the senses. But as the inst.i.tution of communal prayers was formalized at the Masjid, incidents of believers showing up drunk and disrupting the services had become increasingly problematic. Finally, after a drunken brawl among youths almost erupted into a street battle between the old enemies of Aws and Khazraj, the Messenger received a Revelation prohibiting the consumption of alcohol altogether. Some of the Companions voiced concerns that such a ban would be hard to enforce, as wine and khamr khamr were a traditional part of Arab culture. And yet when Ali recited the new verses in the marketplace, the streets were soon running with wine as the citizens emptied their flasks. It had been a remarkable testament to how deeply faith had transformed these people-although I guessed that there were still a few bottles of wine being consumed in secret every night among the less devout. were a traditional part of Arab culture. And yet when Ali recited the new verses in the marketplace, the streets were soon running with wine as the citizens emptied their flasks. It had been a remarkable testament to how deeply faith had transformed these people-although I guessed that there were still a few bottles of wine being consumed in secret every night among the less devout.

Still, law and order had been achieved, and the visiting traders who arrived from all over the peninsula departed Medina with a sense of new possibilities. Perhaps the people of Arabia did not have to live like wild animals, crudely struggling for survival in the wilderness. Perhaps they could build cities and roads and establish courts of law that would end disputes without bloodshed. Medina was becoming a model for a new Arabia, and the word that Muhammad's way led to peace and security was already spreading like an unstoppable sandstorm through the lonely wastes beyond the hills.

I walked through the stalls that day feeling happier than I had in some time. The sky was crystal blue with nary a cloud in sight. The air was warm and buzzing with life. Despite the horrors I had witnessed at Uhud, life was moving forward. And now that the Jews had renewed our pact, Mecca was unlikely to attack again. The sweet smell of peace was in the air.

I stopped before a cloth dealer and saw a lovely roll of saffron-colored silk. I ran my fingers through the fabric, letting its softness send shocks of pleasure down my wrist. The merchant, a grizzled old man with one eye, leaned forward conspiratorially.

"The finest cloth from India," he said in a whisper, referring to a mythic land that was said to be south of the even more magical China. A land of vibrant colors and spices that could be found nowhere else on earth. A land where tigers and monkeys roamed the streets and armies fought with the aid of elephants. A land that was said to have so many G.o.ds that the idols of the Kaaba were like tiny stars lost amid the glory of the Milky Way.

All rubbish, of course. I doubted that this fabled realm existed anywhere outside the fevered imaginings of campfire storytellers. And in any event, whenever a merchant mentioned India, you knew you were in trouble. Traders always claimed that their goods had been imported from there when they wanted to charge exorbitant prices.

True to form, the merchant smiled widely, revealing a jungle of broken and blackened teeth.

"Only twenty gold dirhams," he said, after glancing around to make sure no one had heard what a magnificent bargain he was offering the pretty young lady before him.

I suppressed a smile at the old fraud.

"I'm just looking. Thank you."