Next morning, I had hardly had the chance to say farewell to my beloved wife-holding back the tears as I did so-when Hamada came over with a note that Bilal had taken in from a young man who had immediately taken off. Here is what it said:
"My master, I am one of your Sabta students. Yesterday we all went to the governor's residence to ask that you be given permission to teach us, either in the mosque or wherever they decided. The police and their aides met us with canes and truncheons and laid into us in a totally barbaric fashion. They arrested some of us, but the rest managed to get away, albeit bruised and battered. This is what I need to report to my master-and we can only lodge our complaints with God Almighty, He who is the only granter of victory."
Next day I received yet another note from the same source, informing me that a number of my followers had been imprisoned, and my trio of confidants had been expelled from the Sabta plain. This ongoing succession of bad news sent me into a deep depression. Soon afterward, Bilal came to see me in order to bid me farewell; he was carrying his lute and flute with him. I asked him to stay a little while and to play a flute piece that he did particularly well. Somewhat taken aback, he sat down in front of me and started performing the piece I had requested. The sighs and plaints of the tune conformed exactly to my own sense of deep sorrow, and the invisible bloodletting implicit in the soulful tune exactly matched my own spiritual bleeding. All of a sudden he stopped playing and told me that his caravan would soon be leaving. I stood up and clutched him to me, entrusting Fayha' to his care and wishing him a pleasant journey. He gave me a tearful look, kissed my hand and shoulder with more fervor than he had ever shown before, then went out.
Early next morning I could hear a hubbub at the door of the house. When I went to see what was happening, I found myself facing two policemen who were cursing and swearing at Bilal. They kept telling him to summon his master immediately. All the while passers-by kept stopping to watch and children were making a din. I informed the two policemen that I was the one they were asking for. They then came over to me and told me to accompany them immediately to the deputy governor's residence where there was a matter that concerned me specifically. I asked them to give me a document signed by the deputy governor in person, but they refused. Instead they grabbed me by the arms, clearly intending to take me away against my will. With that, Bilal came over and rescued me from their clutches with an ease that I found remarkable. All that he needed to do to get them to let go of me was to bang their heads together, then crush their heads under his armpits. All the while the onlookers were guffawing their heads off. The policemen only managed to escape his clutches when I told him to go back to work and lock the front door of the house. Once that was done, I made my way to the kitchen, where I calmed down the two maidservants, who were really scared. I then went to my closet to consider my situation and decide what I needed to do next.
I spent half the night thinking about a variety of things, with the idea of going to the holy places to perform the minor pilgrimage and hajj at the top of the list. I came to see the idea as a pious deed that would restore a feeling of serenity to my battered soul and refresh and strengthen my spiritual energy. The best charity, as the saying has it, is that which comes quickest, something that would inevitably involve visits to holy sites and various rituals that I had often performed in my imagination as part of both night dreams and daydreams.
When I woke up, it was well nigh midday. As I went to check on things inside the house, I was full of misgivings, suspecting that this day too would bring its own share of misfortunes. My instincts proved correct because I could find no trace of Bilal either in his room, in the stable, or by the door. I asked the two servant-women, but they knew nothing. But then some of my neighbors told me that they had watched earlier as a column of soldiers had led my servant away bound and in chains. I made ready to go out and headed for the governor's residence on foot, my idea being to come up with a plan while on the way that would get Bilal released and confront the urgency of this situation. I was greeted by a whole group of the governor's or deputy governor's aides; they accompanied me to a narrow, dank room where they asked me to sit down and wait. As they stood disapprovingly by the door, I felt the time passing as slow as lead. Eventually I lost patience, went over to the men, and expressed my extreme displeasure at the way I was being treated. I demanded that they arrange for me to meet the governor as soon as possible. When I realized that they were not going to respond to my request, I asked to be taken to see Bilal. They immediately escorted me across an overgrown garden to a rickety, moss-covered set of steps that went down into a basement with cells on either side, each with a tiny amount of light and iron bars on the door. I could just make out the figures of prisoners inside, all of whom seemed downtrodden and eerily silent. Some of them started calling out my name as soon as they saw me and, praying for me in unison, they chanted, "God alone! God the living! In good times and bad. God alone has the power and might!"
The two guards brought me to a cell apart from the others, opened the ironbarred door, and then locked it behind me before leaving. I found Bilal lying there in a pile without moving. When I said his name, he staggered to his feet, staring at me with teary, bloodshot eyes. He had bruises and welts all over his body. As I embraced him, I made it clear that I fully intended to get him out of this prison. He grabbed my hands and started kissing them, while I kept on trying to get him to sit down and get some rest. I sat down next to him. He made some gestures to ask how his mistress was and how things were going in the house, and I reassured him on that score. I asked him to stretch out on the mat and try to get some sleep, which he did. For my part, I allowed myself the time to contemplate and pray, to which I added some extra prayers and requests to God for aid. I then embarked on a period of mystical reflection that went on with variations until the latter part of the night. After that I must have fallen into a deep sleep, because the first thing I knew I was being awakened by the jailer, who informed me that his master was on his way. With that I stood up and adjusted my clothing as best I could. But suddenly there was the deputy governor coming into the cell, accompanied by another man who looked like a jurist of some kind.
"I hope you slept well, esteemed shaykh," he said in a gruff voice. "You're forcing us to stop you right in your tracks. This man is Sharif al-Hihi, the primary religious authority and mufti for this particular region. He is empowered to examine your beliefs and test the degree of your faith."
By now the shaykh had sat down on my rug. "To put it another way," he went on, giving me a sneaky look, "I am really seeking your guidance so that your followers may emulate your example. That way the country can avoid schism, something that is worse than murder itself."
There was a general air of lethargic propriety about this so-called jurist, not to mention the obvious fact that he was up to his neck in craven service to the authorities. I told myself audibly that I was still in the company of divine presence and needed to focus entirely on mention of God Himself so as to rid my responses of all irrelevancies and impure ideas. God is the companion of those who recall his name. "There is no god but God-Ha-Mim; only one is the Necessary Existent-Alif-lam-mim*; only the eternal is an existent-Kaf-ha-ya-'ayn-sad.`