“You’re absolutely right, my friend. As soon as certain amirs heard that Timur might possibly be packing up to leave, they were calling for us to return to Egypt. I spent much of the night with loyal commanders reminding the sultan and others who were eager to go home that Timur is a past master at such stratagems.”
“The burden of years weighs heavily on my shoulders. But for that, my good friend, I’d be there at every battle, assessing the data for myself.”
“God prolong your life, friend! We’re much in need of you, but in the realms of knowledge and sound advice, not bloody conflict and the heat of battle.”
“Bearing in mind my exhaustion and advanced age, your words are fair enough. Dear friend, I feel that I’m burning the last set of candles for my involvement in such things. The time is fast approaching when I’ll no longer pay any attention to news, however significant it may be. It’s the voice of life eternal that now beckons me.”
“I’ve never known you to be so depressed, Wali al-Din. How are your wife and family?”
“I’ve not heard from them. There’s been no reply to my letter.”
“Give me a letter now, and I’ll have it sent by carrier-pigeon. If you’d like to return to Egypt or to have your family brought here, just let me know.”
“May you be rewarded for such kindness, my friend! Where is Burhan al-Din ibn Muflih?”
“That man’s exercising jihad in his own unique way. He keeps going from one Syrian city to another, creating what he is calling ‘defense groups’ to protect land and people, then bringing them to Damascus. He is making plans and operating as if the Egyptian army is definitely going to leave Syria, in which case the final confrontation will be between the Mongols and the people of Syria.”
“Were I his age, I’d be doing the same.”
‘Abd al-Rahman asked for some paper, wrote a letter to his wife, and sealed it. He stood up and handed it to Yashbak. The commander embraced him and went on to say that ‘Abd al-Rahman should move into the citadel if he received notice to that effect.
For the remainder of Jumada al-Awwal, ‘Abd al-Rahman kept getting news that boded no good. Students no longer came to class, and people — like rats in a basement — ran around in circles, seeking refuge in mosques, backalleys, and shrines. The soldiery involved themselves in an unusual and never ending sequence of maneuvers, watching the gates of Damascus, guarding the road to the citadel, and conducting patrols into quarters and streets.
Weather and atmosphere, physical and mental, turned oppressive, and the summer heat settled in for the season. The sun was a series of burning-hot metal bars that radiated their heat till the first part of night. Air, or what little was left of it, smelled foul and was mingled with the stench of rotting corpses. Even the clear blue sky was polluted by the black color of hovering crows, which made it look as if it were afflicted by a strange kind of flickering. The air was terribly hard to breathe. With such a disgusting cocktail of foul and noxious fumes it was a miracle it didn’t burst into flames.
Was the Mongol hurricane about to descend on them all?
‘Abd al-Rahman was turning over that very question in his mind when the mail brought him a letter. He assumed it was from his wife, Umm al-Batul, and that lifted his spirits. However, when he opened it, he discovered that it was actually from his friend, Ibn Muflih. He sat down and read his friend’s words with considerable pleasure. In fact, it contained a very clear answer to the question as to whether the Mongol hurricane was about to descend on them. After the “In the name of God” and greetings, here is what Ibn Muflih had to say:
Dear Friend, I swear to God that the only thing keeping me away is that I have been traveling to Syrian cities, making every effort to form defense groups to protect land and people. I have only started doing this after receiving clear proof that the Egyptian army proposes to wash its hands of Damascus and leave its people to face the Mongol menace on their own without either army nor equipment. Every day that goes by sees the departure of this amir or that commander. I am almost certain that Sultan Faraj himself will soon join them, fearing for his own life at the hands of Timur and hoping to counteract the activities of conspirators in Egypt itself.
We have no alternative but to negotiate with the tyrant Timur. Had Imam Ibn Taymiya — God bless his spirit — been alive to witness our current plight, he would have authorized negotiation with the Tatar enemy as a way of avoiding the worst of his ravages and saving the blood of Muslims. In extreme circumstances, prudence is the most effective weapon for the weak and defenseless believer. God, the High, the Almighty, alone has the power and the might.
I envisage negotiation as involving face-to-face talks between our religious scholars in particular and Timur. Our principal task is to persuade the invader to agree not to harm civilians in return for receiving the keys to the city and the Citadel.
However, before any agreement is reached, Timur will insist on meeting with us religious scholars and judges, just as he did two months ago in Aleppo between the time when he defeated the army and later destroyed its principal buildings. All the evidence that I have been able to gather from people who survived the assault on that city confirms how vicious the Tatars are and how fond of trickery and deceit their commander is.
In any event, we must learn from the Aleppo case. During the discussions that Timur had with the religious scholars of the captured city, he asked them — according to accounts I have received — a very difficult question: So which are martyrs, our dead or yours? That kept everyone quiet for a while. Everyone struggled to come up with an answer that would prevent what would otherwise be guaranteed destruction. Eventually it was al-Hafiz al-Khwarizmi, mufti of Aleppo, who saved the day by pointing out that an Arab had posed the very same question to the Prophet of God — on him be peace — who had replied: ‘Anyone who has fought so that the word of God may be the highest, that person is a martyr. ‘It is up to you, Wali al-Din, to come up with a similarly authoritative hadith so that you can expect to hear Timur react by saying, “Khub, khub” (Good. good), in a word, the true Word is the basis for our salvation. So help yourself avoid the worst possible outcome and open in front of us the path of hope.
We are all relying on you. dear friend, to frame the discussion with Timur because you are both a renowned scholar and a clever strategist. Start now preparing for all the tricky questions. Search through history for precedents and similar situations.
I am making ready for all eventualities, including the possibility of Timur breaking all treaties and agreements. Along with certain religious colleagues I am training a group of young men in the techniques of street warfare. God is our helper, and He alone has the power!
For ‘Abd al-Rahman this letter from Ibn Muflih served as a wake-up call. As a result, he decided that the time had come to verify the real situation. It was the very beginning of Jumada al-Akhira. He got out his mule and headed for some of the quarters close to his house and to the citadel itself. The predominant color everywhere was dust: air, roads, animals, people. It was made even worse by the frequent-skirmishes taking place to the west of the city. There was no let-up in the weather either, and the atmosphere was damp and foul. It almost felt as if the Mongol army had gained control of the snowy mountains and could prevent purer air from reaching the city and its citadel.
The expressions on people’s faces made it clear that the only reason they were huddling together within the city walls was that they were too weak to run away and were scared to death at the thought of being brutally attacked. They all looked like maltreated animals, trying every conceivable contortion in an attempt to escape. They were hoarding food and water and leaving mounds of garbage in the streets that served as food for insects and stray animals.