Mother of the Believers Part 49

Talha, for his part, had been unable to fight in the later wars of conquest because of his shattered hand. Instead, he had spent his years working as a merchant. His brilliant negotiating skills and his talent for learning the languages of our conquered subjects had allowed him to build a vast business empire, and he had been transformed over the years from an impoverished cripple into one of the richest men in the empire. And he had spent much of his vast wealth on spoiling his beautiful daughter, whom he had named, perhaps not surprisingly, Aisha. She was a vivacious young woman who had captured the hearts of many of the young men of Medina but had a shocking reputation as a flirt who enjoyed leading boys on. I had often sternly lectured the girl about social proprieties, and she had simply laughed and said I would have done the same had I not been married as a child and hidden away behind a veil. I would always give her a tongue-lashing for her impudence, but in my heart I loved her like a daughter, and I knew there was more than a little truth to what she said.

It was to Aisha bint Talha that my thoughts turned now as my friends revealed the shocking news of Uthman's murder. I grieved for the old man who was a victim of his own kindness, and I feared for the people of Medina now that the blood of the Caliph had been spilled. According to Zubayr, Uthman's cousin Muawiya was dispatching a mighty contingent from Syria to avenge the Caliph's death. Apparently Marwan had been able to get word of the siege to the Umayyad leader, and when Uthman was killed, his blood-soaked shirt had been sent to Damascus, along with the remains of poor Naila's severed fingers. The outraged Muawiya had held aloft these grisly relics in the newly constructed Grand Masjid of Damascus, built next to the church where the prophet John the Baptist was buried. With his brilliant oratory, he had riled up the pa.s.sions of the crowd, and the cry for vengeance was rapidly spreading through the empire, especially after news of how the rebels had treated Uthman's corpse "What happened to Uthman's body?" I asked and then saw Zubayr's face grimace with pain.

"They threw his body in the trash heap and refused to let him be buried," Zubayr said, horror welling in his eyes. "Safiya finally intervened and convinced them to let us bury him. But they would not allow us to inter Uthman with the Prophet or with the other believers in Jannat al-Baqi Jannat al-Baqi. So Safiya arranged for the Caliph to be buried in the Jewish cemetery near her ancestors."

I hung my head in grief. I had one more question, but I was afraid to ask it. And then Umm Salama spoke up, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

"Who is in charge?"

It was a simple question, but the fate of an empire that ruled half the earth turned on the answer.

There was a moment of long silence, and then finally Talha spoke, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"After the Caliph's murder, there was chaos in the streets," he said. "Ali, Zubayr, and I gathered in the marketplace and called for calm. It was then that the rebels arrived, their swords drawn, and your brother said that he would recognize no man as master except his stepfather, Ali."

I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. Seeing the look of shock on my face, Talha nodded in understanding.

"We had arrived there, the three of us, with the understanding that we would call for an election by the elders of Mecca," he said, his voice rising. "But the rebels surrounded the crowd, their weapons in view, and it was no surprise that the vote went unanimously for Ali. Even Zubayr and I pledged our loyalty to him. We had no choice."

I could tell that the brutal way in which my brother's men had secured Ali's election haunted Talha and Zubayr. The three of them had been close friends for years, but this incident had clearly created deep ill will. They, like Ali, were two of the most revered leaders of Islam, men who had fought beside the Prophet and had been serious candidates for the position of Caliph after Umar's a.s.sa.s.sination. They had accepted Uthman's election and had supported him loyally. But now, in the face of Uthman's murder, they had been denied the opportunity to a.s.sert their claim to the throne of Islam by the murderers themselves. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and I could sense their anger at Ali for going along with the tainted election.

And then I felt something grow inside me, something cold and ugly. The old wounds were opened all at once, and I could feel the poison of the past flowing through my veins. I remembered how Ali had nonchalantly convinced the Messenger to marry Zaynab bint Khuzayma in order to secure a political alliance, offering up my husband's hand to another woman in my presence as if my feelings were worthless. I remembered how he had led that tragic girl of the Bani Qurayza who looked just like me to her execution and how the young woman's mad laughter still haunted my dreams. And then I remembered most vividly how he had tried to get Muhammad to divorce me when I was falsely accused of a shameful crime.

"Now that he has finally received his lifelong wish and crowned himself Caliph, what has Ali done to punish the a.s.sa.s.sins?" I asked through gritted teeth.

My friends looked at each other and hesitated.

"Nothing," Talha said coldly.

The world around me seemed to change colors, and suddenly I saw everything through a veil of red.

"Then Ali has failed in his first task as Caliph. To enforce justice."

I saw the men look at me, and there were uncertainty and fear in their eyes.

"What are you saying?" Zubayr asked slowly.

"I am saying that Ali cannot be put on the throne of the Muslims by the murderers of the Caliph!" I felt my bones tremble with fury as I convinced myself of the justice of my position. "And even if his election were legitimate, he cannot lay claim to authority until he punishes those who have committed this vile crime. Otherwise the Caliph is complicit in the murder of his righteous predecessor, and G.o.d help the Muslims if we should fall that low to accept such a man as our master!"

The words came out of my mouth with such ferocity that both Talha and Zubayr sat back as if I had slapped them. And then my sister-wife Umm Salama rose, her eyes wide with anger.

"Stop this! End this mad talk at once!"

"What madness? Is there any greater madness than to let a criminal rule over the believers?" Any other woman-or man, for that matter-would have been terrified by the dangerous look in my eyes, but Umm Salama refused to back down.

"Remember yourself, Aisha," she said, her voice stern. "You are the Mother of the Believers. You are meant to guide the Muslims, to heal their wounds, not inflict new ones. Do not go down this path, or the wrath of G.o.d will be unleashed on the Ummah Ummah."

I had never heard this matronly and warmhearted woman speak in such an outraged tone, and I would have been stung had there been any feeling left inside me except rage.

"It is Ali who will bring down the wrath of G.o.d upon us if he holds on to his blood-soaked throne," I said, my voice soft but dangerous.

Umm Salama turned to Talha and Zubayr but saw that they had been moved by my words. And then she shook her head in despair and stormed out of the Hall of a.s.sembly.

As I sat there in triumph, a memory came back to me of the last time a woman had convinced men in this room of the justice of her argument. It had been Hind, who had called for the murder of Muhammad. It was a troubling thought and I quickly pushed it out of my head.

OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL weeks, I convinced Talha and Zubayr, along with many other Muslims in Mecca, that we had a moral responsibility to challenge Ali. My cry for justice on behalf of the murdered Uthman stirred the hearts of the people of the city, who had benefited tremendously from the old man's generosity. As more and more men gathered to our cause, it became clear that we had enough to form an army, one strong enough to challenge Ali and force his abdication. weeks, I convinced Talha and Zubayr, along with many other Muslims in Mecca, that we had a moral responsibility to challenge Ali. My cry for justice on behalf of the murdered Uthman stirred the hearts of the people of the city, who had benefited tremendously from the old man's generosity. As more and more men gathered to our cause, it became clear that we had enough to form an army, one strong enough to challenge Ali and force his abdication.

And then word came to us that Ali had raised his own troops to try to secure peace in the troubled empire. Although many of the Muslim governors in Yemen and the eastern provinces of Persia had accepted Ali's claim to authority, Muawiya refused to acknowledge him as Caliph. Ali's army of supporters included many devout Muslims who revered him for his reputation for wisdom and moral character, while others, known as the Shia Shia, or Partisans of Ali, believed that he had always been the rightful leader of the Muslims through the claim of his lineage. And a rather shady group among his followers included the rebels of Egypt, who had a vested stake in ensuring that Uthman's clansmen did not get a chance to avenge the death of the Caliph.

As Muawiya gathered his forces in Syria, Ali had decided to leave Medina and move north into the green fields of Iraq. He sought both to spare the holy city the horror of further bloodshed and to garner the support of the Iraqi provinces in what would likely be a protracted war with Muawiya.

When word came to us that Ali's army was on the move, it became clear to Talha, Zubayr, and me that our moment had come. By then, our call for justice had attracted many of the most prominent Muslims to Mecca, and I remember with great joy the day that I saw you arrive, Abdallah, on horseback from Medina. You had grown into a dashing young man, so much like your father, and yet whenever I looked upon you, I saw only the little boy who'd played in my sister's lap. Your support meant more to me than that of all the gathered n.o.bles of the tribes, some of whom I did not trust but whose help I desperately needed.

The worst of these was the rat-faced Marwan ibn Hakam, whose machinations had brought all this evil upon us. Not surprisingly, he had fled Medina after the rebels killed his sponsor, Uthman, and had sought refuge in Mecca, which was still governed by one of Uthman's appointed viceroys. I despised Marwan, but I kept my hatred in check, for he still commanded the loyalty of the Umayyad clan, whose support I needed to bring down Ali. Unfortunately Talha was less able to hide his feelings, and he openly insulted the young manipulator and publicly humiliated him by reminding the n.o.bles of Mecca that Marwan had been cursed and expelled by the Messenger of G.o.d himself. It was a disgrace that Marwan never forgave and that would lead to tragedy for my beloved cousin.

During the weeks that our group planned its revolt against Ali, my fellow Mothers arrived from Medina, sent by the new Caliph to dissuade us from taking any rash actions. Umm Salama rallied my sister-wives to try to change my mind, but their voices fell on deaf ears. I had convinced myself of the righteousness of my cause, and my pa.s.sionate defense of my actions nearly swayed Hafsa to join us. But her brother Abdallah ibn Umar, a stern and powerful man like her father, convinced her to stay clear of my ambitious and dangerous plan.

And so the day came when our army prepared to journey north into Iraq and intercept Ali. I alone of all the Mothers of the Believers joined the men, who had prepared for me a special camel that was carrying an armored howdah. I often look back and call that day the Day of Tears, for I remember how my fellow wives wept and begged for me to stay. And yet my heart had been turned to stone by my hatred for Ali, and their words did not reach my soul.

Talha, Zubayr, and I rode out from Mecca with an army of three thousand and began a march that would forever change the destiny of Islam and the world.

AS WE Pa.s.sED OVER the deserts of Arabia and entered the rolling plains of Iraq, I gazed out from my howdah in wonder at the vast fields of green all about me. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized that this was the first time I had ever crossed the boundaries of the peninsula. I was over forty years old and the queen mother of an empire greater than any known to human history. And I had never set foot outside the desolate patch of sand where I had been born. I wondered what would happen once we had defeated Ali, whether the new Caliph (in all probability either Talha or Zubayr) would permit me at last to fulfill my childhood dream and wander free, to see the world that I knew of only through tales told by travelers and merchants in the marketplace. I imagined reclining in the gardens of Damascus under the shade of pink cherry trees or climbing through the snow-covered mountains of Persia. Or perhaps gazing upon the ancient pyramids that towered over Egypt and the mysterious lion's head that gazed out from the sands of Giza, as I had heard my brother Muhammad describe. My poor, idealistic brother whose cry for justice had set in motion the terrible events that had brought me here. the deserts of Arabia and entered the rolling plains of Iraq, I gazed out from my howdah in wonder at the vast fields of green all about me. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized that this was the first time I had ever crossed the boundaries of the peninsula. I was over forty years old and the queen mother of an empire greater than any known to human history. And I had never set foot outside the desolate patch of sand where I had been born. I wondered what would happen once we had defeated Ali, whether the new Caliph (in all probability either Talha or Zubayr) would permit me at last to fulfill my childhood dream and wander free, to see the world that I knew of only through tales told by travelers and merchants in the marketplace. I imagined reclining in the gardens of Damascus under the shade of pink cherry trees or climbing through the snow-covered mountains of Persia. Or perhaps gazing upon the ancient pyramids that towered over Egypt and the mysterious lion's head that gazed out from the sands of Giza, as I had heard my brother Muhammad describe. My poor, idealistic brother whose cry for justice had set in motion the terrible events that had brought me here.

And then I heard a dog bark and I snapped out of my reverie. I peered through the heavy metal rings of my armored curtains and saw that our caravan had entered a valley. The sun had fallen behind the mountains and the earth was draped in shadow.

And then I heard a chilling howl, followed by another. I looked out from my howdah as dozens of vicious dogs ran out from behind the rocks and crevices and raced around my camel, barking wildly. There was something unearthly and terrifying about them, and I felt my bones grow cold.

And then I felt the stirrings of memory and my blood fled from my face.

The dogs of al-Haw'ab...they bark so fiercely... my husband had said. my husband had said. They bark at the Angel of Death...who follows her skirts...so much death in her midst... They bark at the Angel of Death...who follows her skirts...so much death in her midst... And then he had turned to me, fear in his black eyes. And then he had turned to me, fear in his black eyes. Please, Please, Humayra... Humayra...Don't let the dogs bark at you.

And then, at that instant, the demon that had possessed my soul departed and I became the Mother of the Believers again.

I called out to Talha in desperation. He rode over immediately at my cry for help.

"What is it? Are you all right?"

I peered out from my howdah, so agitated that I forgot to put on my veil. I saw him look at my face in stunned surprise, and I realized that he had not seen my features since I was a teenage girl. Talha immediately looked down and I felt my face flush in embarra.s.sment and shame as I quickly wrapped my face behind the niqab niqab. And some small part of me wondered if I looked ugly to him, a middle-aged woman who no longer possessed the vibrancy of youth that he remembered. But then the memory of the dark prophecy came to mind and all thoughts of vanity disappeared.

"We must turn back," I begged him.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"This is the valley of Haw'ab!" I shouted to him. "The Messenger warned me against it! Please! This mission had been cursed! We must abandon it!"

Talha looked up at me in confusion. And then I saw the hateful face of Marwan as he rode up beside my camel.

"You are mistaken, my Mother," he said. "This is not Haw'ab. That valley is miles to the west."

"You lie!" I cried out, but Marwan simply smiled and rode off, pointedly joining the train of his fellow Umayyad lords who had financed this expedition. Even if I wanted to turn back, the men whose gold had brought us here wished to continue. And one woman's voice of conscience had no weight on the scales of power.

Talha gazed at Marwan and I saw a defeated look cross his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, and then rode back to join Zubayr.

I felt steel talons gripping my heart, and I began to pray to Allah for protection from the darkness inside my own soul.

AND SO IT WAS that we at last came upon Ali's encampment, deep in the heart of southern Iraq at a town called Basra. We had recruited sympathizers among the Bedouin tribes and some disgruntled Iraqis, and our army had now swelled to ten thousand, nearly equal to the fighting force of the Caliph. that we at last came upon Ali's encampment, deep in the heart of southern Iraq at a town called Basra. We had recruited sympathizers among the Bedouin tribes and some disgruntled Iraqis, and our army had now swelled to ten thousand, nearly equal to the fighting force of the Caliph.

Ever since the incident with the dogs of al-Haw'ab, the bloodl.u.s.t had seeped out of my veins and I had no more desire for battle. And I could tell that Talha and Zubayr shared my feelings. The sight of an opposing army consisting of our fellow Muslims, the idea of shedding their blood, revolted us. And then an envoy from Ali arrived asking for a private meeting with me and the two Companions who led the army of Mecca.

OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL hours, we met in Ali's simple command tent, not as enemies but as old colleagues who sat in wonder at how things could have gone so wrong between us. Ali apologized to Talha and Zubayr for the ungracious way in which he had a.s.sumed power, but he said quite convincingly that he felt there had been no other choice. With the death of Uthman, chaos had reigned, and he had sought only to reestablish order and justice to the caliphate. hours, we met in Ali's simple command tent, not as enemies but as old colleagues who sat in wonder at how things could have gone so wrong between us. Ali apologized to Talha and Zubayr for the ungracious way in which he had a.s.sumed power, but he said quite convincingly that he felt there had been no other choice. With the death of Uthman, chaos had reigned, and he had sought only to reestablish order and justice to the caliphate.

"If you sought justice, then why did you not punish the a.s.sa.s.sins?" It was a question that came out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I saw that Talha and Zubayr looked relieved that I had said aloud what they had been too diplomatic to mention.

Ali sighed wearily.

"I am well aware that the a.s.sa.s.sins still live, and some of them have even joined my army, thinking that I am their patron when in truth I hold them in contempt." He paused and then looked into my eyes, green meeting gold. "But what did you expect of me? I had no soldiers at my command at Medina. How could I have enforced the law and held these murderers accountable, when they held the entire city hostage? I needed to bring together the forces of the Ummah, Ummah, and then I would have the power to avenge Uthman's death." and then I would have the power to avenge Uthman's death."

It was a simple statement of fact, said with such clarity that we realized at once that he was right. And then I bowed my head in shame, for I realized that I had been in the wrong the whole time.

And then a thought came to me and I suddenly felt my heart beating faster.

"You have the power now," I said, a smile suddenly spreading beneath my veil. "We have ten thousand men under our command who are eager to hold the a.s.sa.s.sins accountable. And of the army you have gathered here, the rebels can only be a few hundred. If we combine forces, we can easily arrest them with little bloodshed."

Ali looked at me for a long moment, and then he smiled, his mysterious eyes twinkling.

"Then perhaps all of this has happened for the best," he said. "Satan tried to divide us, but G.o.d has brought us together again."

And so it was decided that day that we would join forces and avenge the death of Uthman. The Umayyads would be satisfied with the trial and execution of the rebels (Ali had pardoned my own brother, as he had renounced the actions of the killers). And Ali could then reign legitimately as Caliph under a united empire. This terrible moment of fitna fitna would be over, and the Muslims would continue to expand and grow as one community, spreading to every corner of the world the message of unity- would be over, and the Muslims would continue to expand and grow as one community, spreading to every corner of the world the message of unity-there is no G.o.d but G.o.d.

We retired that night to our separate camps, praising G.o.d for saving us from the folly of our own pa.s.sions. But even as we slept in security, thinking that civil war had been averted, Satan had other plans.

THE NEXT DAWN I awoke to shouts and cries of horror. I leaped up and threw on my veil, staring out from the opening of my private sleeping tent at the plain of Basra. And raised my hand to my mouth in shock at what I saw. I awoke to shouts and cries of horror. I leaped up and threw on my veil, staring out from the opening of my private sleeping tent at the plain of Basra. And raised my hand to my mouth in shock at what I saw.

A contingent of Ali's men had raided our camp, setting fire to tents and killing our soldiers in their sleep. The men of Mecca poured out onto the field, quickly donning their armor to respond to this treachery.

For an instant, I thought Ali had betrayed us, but then the rising sun revealed the faces of the marauders and I recognized them as the accursed Egyptian rebels whose penchant for violence had brought us to this terrible place. I realized that they must have learned of our plans to turn on them, and they had attacked preemptively, seeking to turn our armies against each other before we could unite against them.

I raced out into the field, calling for the men to stop fighting. But it was too late. Blood had been spilled and the madness of battle was flowing through their veins. Our soldiers raced across the field to avenge themselves on Ali's men, and the nightmare that we had sought to avert was upon us.

Civil war.

As arrows and spears began to fly all around me, I raced to the safety of my armored howdah. My brave camel rose and tried to pull me to safety, but there was nowhere to run. The fighting had begun in earnest, and the two armies of Muslims came rushing out into the field, hatred consuming them as they fought their brothers like savage beasts.

I felt tears flowing down my face as I saw swords clashing and the beautiful emerald gra.s.s turn dark with the blood of the believers. Blood that had been spilled not by idolaters or the hordes of foreign empires but by their fellow Muslims. I screamed at the top of my lungs, calling out to the men whom I called my sons to stop killing one another, but my voice was lost in the terrible din of war.

As the madness spread, my camel was soon swimming in a sea of twenty thousand men who clashed brutally all around. Arrows struck my carriage from all sides, and yet the multiple layers of ringed armor saved me, even though my howdah was beginning to look like the sh.e.l.l of a porcupine.

I managed to watch the unfolding battle through a small hole in the curtain, but all I could see was a blur of blood and death, and the terrible stench of defecation and decay made me want to wretch.

My camel tried to shift away from the carnage, but everywhere it went, waves of enemy soldiers were upon us. And then I realized with deep horror that they were chasing me chasing me-the warriors of Ali were hunting me down. Somehow I had become the symbol of the entire rebellion, and they had made me the vaunted prize, the target of their fury.

I had become a vortex of death.

And then I heard in my head a terrible cold laughter and I felt something burning on my forearm. I looked down and my eyes went wide in horror.

I was wearing Hind's gold armlet.

She had given it to me that day when Mecca fell, the last day I had seen her. I had wanted to throw it away, but some small part of me was fascinated by the dark beauty of the entwined snakes with their ruby heart. I had told myself that it was just one small, meaningless trinket, and I had locked it away inside the trunk that held my few valuables, including the onyx necklace that had nearly destroyed my life. Over the years I would look at the armlet from time to time, examine its fine craftsmanship, but I had never worn it.

And now, somehow, it was there on my arm. And it burned like a torch, as if the ruby at its center were a live coal. Frightened, I tried to tear it off, but it was seared to my flesh.

And the laughter in my head became a voice. A clear distinct voice. Hind's voice.

I always liked you, little girl. You remind me of myself.

I screamed in rage.

"I am not like you!"

And then the laughter grew louder and I thought I would descend into madness. I was trying to fight this monster that was inside me, and it was winning.

And then I heard another voice, a voice that was soft and gentle and familiar. The Voice of the Messenger.

Do not fight anymore. Surrender.

I closed my eyes and let go. Let the rage and the guilt and the horror wash through me like rain running down a gully in a mountainside. I felt myself fall, as I had done that fateful night on the mountain where Muhammad and my father were hiding from the a.s.sa.s.sins. I was falling deeper and deeper, my shame and anguish tearing through me.