So as to make it impossible for him to renew his attempt, his contradictors stirred up the lowest dregs of the populace against him. Slaves and vagabonds, arrayed in a double row, awaited him on each side of the road he was bound to take. They found amusement in stoning his bare legs. When exhausted by his sufferings, he sat down in the middle of the road, trying to shield his bleeding feet, his tormentors lifted him up by the arms and continued their barbarous fun. In vain, devoted Zayd tried to protect him by getting in front of him; the faithful henchman was struck down by a stone that cut his face. Staggering, falling, rising and dragging themselves along in the midst of sneering jibes, Mohammad and his companion at last reached a garden wall, behind which they took refuge, and dropped extenuated in the shade of a tree covered with vine branches, leaves and grapes.
'O Allah!' cried the Prophet, 'To Thee I complain of my puny strength and the failure of my zeal with regard to these men. O Thou! most Compassionate and Merciful, Thou art the Lord of the weak and Thou art my Lord! I have none but Thee on whom to lean! But if Thou be not angry with me because I am powerless to ensure love and respect for Thy Word, I care nothing for all the ordeals I undergo!'
The villanous mob did not dare to trespass in the garden in order to follow up their victims. The owners of the property, charitable folks, indignant at the scene they had just witnessed, ordered Adas, their gardener, to gather bunches of grapes and carry a basketful to their momentary guests.
When the inflammation of their limbs, covered with bruises, had subsided by reason of repose in the beneficial shade; and their thirst being quenched by the honeyed juice of the celebrated grapes of Taif, the Prophet and his companion set out again on the road to Makkah.
The Departure.
