Thus he had planned, but his plans had misfired.
He reached Sofad on the morning scheduled for departure, only to find that the Amir, at the last moment, had decided to make this first march toward Mozarib a cool one and had left the previous night. Hoping to catch up, but not unmindful of the perils that beset the way when he neared the camp of the Sofad pilgrims, Ali had decided that it would be prudent to reconnoiter first. It had indeed been prudent.
Peering down at the camp from a nest of boulders on a hillock, Ali was just in time to see the Amir and his fourteen men beheaded, in a most efficient fashion, by sword-wielding Druse tribesmen who'd taken the camp. Afterwards, the raiders had loaded everything except the stripped bodies of their victims on their own camels and departed.
It was a time for serious thinking, to which Ali had promptly devoted himself. Unfortunately, he failed also to think broadly, and the only conclusion he drew consisted of the fact that it was still possible for him to go on and join the Hadj. Camel drivers were always welcome. Sparing not a single thought to the idea that Druse raiders would rather kill than do anything else, Ali had almost been caught unawares by the one who had slipped hopefully back to see if he could find somebody else to behead. Ali had taken to his heels and, so far, he had proved that he was fleeter than his pursuer. Tenacious as any bloodhound, the Druse had stayed on his trail until yesterday morning. Now he was shaken. Ali knew that he was somewhere south of Damascus and, with any luck, might yet join the Hadj.
Help would not come amiss. Ali drank the last sip from his goatskin water flask, shifted his dagger just a little, so it would be ready to his hand should he have need of it, and made ready to address himself to the one unfailing Source of help.
Though he had no more water, there was an endless supply of sand. Good Moslems who could read and write had assured him that this statement appears in the Koran: "When ye rise up to prayer, wash your faces and your hands and your arms to the elbows, and wipe your heads and your feet to the ankles." Though it was commonly assumed that one would cleanse himself with water before daring to mention Allah's name, special provisions applied to special occasions. For those who had no water, sand was an acceptable substitute.
His ablutions performed, Ali faced toward Mecca, placed an open hand on either side of his face and intoned, "God is most great." Remaining in a standing position, he proceeded to the next phase of the prayer that all good Moslems must offer five times daily.
It was the recitation of the opening sura, or verse, of the Koran. Ali, who'd memorized the proper words, had not proceeded beyond, "In the name of the merciful and compassionate God. Praise belongs to God—" when he was interrupted by the roar of an enraged camel.
Ali halted abruptly, instantly and completely, forgetting the sacred rite in which he'd been absorbed and that had five more complete phases, each with prescribed gestures, before he might conclude it. When he finally remembered, he was a little troubled; Allah might conceivably frown upon whoever interrupted prayers to Him. But Ali remembered also that Allah is indulgent toward those who are at war, in danger, ill, or for other good reasons are unable to recite the proper prayers in the proper way at the prescribed times.