When night fell, both armies had nearly reached Bedr. Mohammed and Abu Bekr sought repose in a hut of palm branches guarded by a soldier with his sword drawn; and the Prophet’s slumbers were comforted by dreams in which the enemy appeared as a pitifully weak force. Morning had barely dawned when foe swiftly advanced to meet foe. A providential rain had softened the ground over which the Koreish must needs pass, and, at the same time, it had paradoxically hardened the soil beneath the Moslem feet; the fortunate fact that small sandy ridges concealed the majority of the Meccans induced the Medinese to advance with extra courage; and the Koreish suffered the further disadvantage of facing the troublesome rays of the rising sun. In addition, the Prophet’s superior foresight, abetted by the suggestion of a counselor, had prompted him to take possession of a never-failing spring, as well as to destroy all the other available water-sources; for he always backed up his incessant prayers by using every device of military tactics that he happened to know, or acquire.
According to the Arabian custom, the fray opened with a series of individual combats. Three Meccan warriors stepped vaingloriously forth, daring the three best men among the Moslems to face them; and valorous Hamza, impetuous Ali, and Obeida the septuagenarian rushed forward to accept the challenge. The swords of Hamza and Ali soon dripped with the lifeblood of two Koreishites; when Obeida fell severely wounded, they sprang to his aid and simultaneously delivered two lusty strokes that killed the third. Then, raising the cry, “Ye conquerors, strike!” the serried Moslem ranks hurled themselves against the enemy; but the Prophet himself, while the deadly yet indecisive struggle was being waged, played an ambiguous part. Friendly traditions state that he bounded about with a sword in his hand. Those of another sort relate that, upon observing the first shedding of blood, he retired to his hut and swooned; that, upon being revived, he poured forth the most energetic prayers; and that, even before the battle commenced, he had taken pains to have a swift camel tied to his tent as a last resource against the possible calamity of defeat. Still other narratives assert that he occupied himself principally in reminding his accomplices that Paradise awaited those who perished for Islam—a promise whose validity he himself seems to have been indisposed to test. For Mohammed, no less than many other religiously-minded emperors and tsars, appears to have conducted himself in battle according to the wise principle that a head without a halo is infinitely more desirable than a halo without a head.
While the disorderly Meccan forces were being steadily pressed back by the close-joined Moslem ranks, a furious storm of wind arose. Until this time, Mohammed seems to have been rather sceptical concerning the issue of his prayers; but, now that the foe was beginning to waver, he doubted no longer. “That,” he exclaimed while the tempest raged, “is Gabriel with a thousand angels charging down upon the foe.” Then, stooping and grabbing up a handful of small stones, he rose and hurled them at the Koreish, accompanying his action with the shout, “Confusion seize their faces!” This double assault, timed at the psychological moment, could not fail to have effect. The broken and shaken Meccan ranks—thoroughly discomfited by a lack of discipline, by a merely lukewarm interest in fighting their quondam neighbors and friends, and, as their own satirists abundantly pointed out later, by actual cowardice—cracked apart and fled in complete dismay, to be harassed and killed or captured by the pursuing Moslems. Mohammed lost but fourteen men in the encounter, whereas more than a hundred Koreish were slain or taken prisoners.
Curious scenes followed. A Moslem named Moadh had succeeded in cutting off Abu Jahl’s leg. Just then Moadh, attacked by Abu’s son, had found himself with one of his own arms almost severed; and, realizing that this member was now a useless impediment, Moadh bent over, placed his foot on the injured arm, wrenched it off, and continued to fight. At this moment one Abdallah came running up to assist Moadh, and, overjoyed at his good fortune in stumbling over such a notorious enemy, cut off Abu Jahl’s head and carried it to Mohammed. The Prophet, who was just beginning to celebrate his victory, raised the exultant shout: “The head of the enemy of God! God! there is none other God!” “There is none other!” agreed Abdallah, dropping his gory prize before Mohammed’s feet; and Abdallah almost fainted from bliss when the Prophet continued, “It is more acceptable to me than the choicest camel in all Arabia.” It happened, also, that Ali had overheard Mohammed praying for the death of Naufal ibn Khuweilid, who had been taken prisoner; so Ali ran up, coolly slaughtered him, and promptly hastened with the good news to the Prophet, who joyously commented that this was doubtless a direct answer to his supplication. The spoil was soon gathered, and a pit was dug into which the Koreishite bodies were tossed; and Mohammed, who stood by watching the proceedings, greeted each corpse by name, adding this question, “Have ye now found true that which your Lord did promise you? What my Lord promised me, that verily I have found to be true.” “O Prophet!” inquired an amazed observer, “dost thou speak unto the dead?” “Yea, verily,” was the reply, “for now they well know that the promise of their Lord hath fully come to pass.”
Next morning, when the prisoners were led before him, he turned a malignant gaze upon Al-Nadr, who had been captured by Mikdad. “There is death in that glance,” the frightened Al-Nadr whispered to a bystander, and he was right; his trembling plea for mercy was rewarded with the response, “Islam hath rent all bonds asunder,” from a prominent Moslem, and with the command, “Strike off his head!” from Mohammed, who also felt moved to add, “And, O Lord, do Thou of Thy bounty grant unto Mikdad a better prey than this!” Another prisoner, Okba—a man well versed in Grecian, Persian and Arabian lore, who is said to have aroused the Prophet’s ire by the observation that, if a fund of good stories entitled a man to call himself a prophet, he was fully as good a candidate as Mohammed himself—was likewise ordered to face his doom. Mohammed, however, first satisfied Okba’s curiosity as to why he had been singled out for destruction with the words, “Because of thine enmity to God and his Prophet.” “And my little girl,” continued Okba, “who will take care of her?” “Hell-fire!” was the swift reply, as Okba was chopped to the ground. The Prophet, surveying the remains, rejoiced after this fashion: “I give thanks unto the Lord that hath slain thee, and comforted mine eyes thereby.” Yet it should be stated that the defenders of Islam asseverate that Mohammed’s remarks to the Koreishite corpses were intended to express pity rather than hatred, and that the ejaculation “Hell-fire!” was a reference to the fact that Okba’s children were nicknamed “children of fire”—in other words, he implied that Okba’s descendants would be cared for by his relatives.
Whatever the facts may be, it is certain that Mohammed treated the rest of the captives with a kindness rarely matched in the martial history of Arabia. While the implacable Omar made a violent plea for their summary death, and while the easy-going Abu Bekr urged clemency, Gabriel winged his way from Allah’s presence with the gratifying information that Mohammed might do as he wished; but he added the portentous remark that, if the Koreish were spared, a like number of Moslems would perish in battle within the year. Mohammed eventually pleased everyone, except Omar, by announcing that the prisoners would not be slain, but that they could be freed only by ransom, and that those Moslems who might fall as Gabriel had foretold would “inherit Paradise and the crown of martyrdom.” His decision was probably reached on account of several considerations: the ransom for some seventy prisoners might benefit Islam even more than their blood; there was the further chance that some of them might become disciples; and, finally, he may conceivably have been more mercifully minded than his traducers admit.
Joy and thanksgiving were unbounded when the news of the overwhelming victory reached Medina; even the toddling children chased around the streets crying out, “Abu Jahl, the sinner, is slain!” The prisoners were so kindly treated that some of them actually became converts, while the stubborn remainder were ransomed for reasonable sums—except those whose wealth Mohammed’s abnormally retentive memory still kept in mind. Thus, when the case of the opulent Naufal, Mohammed’s own cousin, came up, the Prophet amazed him with a demand for the thousand spears that he possessed; Naufal was so completely upset by this evidence of what appeared to be supernatural assistance that he is said to have accepted Islam on the spot. Among the prisoners, also, was the Prophet’s rich uncle Al-Abbas, who declined to pay on the ground that he was already a Moslem and that he had been obliged to fight against his conscience. “God knows best about that,” replied his nephew; “externally you were against us, so ransom yourself.” When Al-Abbas demurred, saying that he was now penniless, he was met with the pitiless query, “Then where is the money which, when you left Mecca, you secretly deposited with your wife?” Al-Abbas paid his ransom. Meanwhile a spirited discussion arose as to the way in which the booty—which included about one hundred and fifty camels and horses, together with vast quantities of vestments and armor—should be divided; the matter, indeed, was so important that it could be settled only by a heavenly decree, which stipulated that one-fifth should be placed at the disposal of “God and the Prophet” and the remainder equally dispersed among the army.
But these were mere mercenary considerations. The outstanding, overshadowing fact was that a small body of Moslems had utterly routed a force three times their own number. Mohammed might well claim that he had at last performed a veritable miracle, and his subordinates might well have become a little vainglorious too; but the Koran soon placed the credit for the “Day of Deliverance” where it properly belonged. “As for victory, it is from none other than from God; for God is glorious and wise.... And ye slew them not, but God slew them. Neither was it thou, O Prophet, that didst cast the gravel; but God did cast it.” And yet the human side of the encounter was not neglected. The glorious Three Hundred who had fought and conquered such superior odds thenceforth became the peerage of Medina. Until the end of his life, Mohammed was willing to forgive almost any sort of offence committed by any one of them, for, as he wisely declared, he could not be sure that Allah Himself had not given them free leave to do as they chose.
At Mecca, however, very different scenes were witnessed. The bitter pangs of shame and despair that everyone felt upon learning of the stunning defeat soon gave way to a fiery thirst for vengeance. For a month this frenzy reigned; then human nature intervened and a universal lament for the dead ascended, for almost every home in Mecca had been bereaved. A harrowing yet beautiful story illustrates how the grim self-restraint of the Koreish was finally broken. One night an aged father, who had lost two sons, heard the sound of weeping and thus commanded his servant: “Go see! It may be that Koreish have begun to wail for their dead; perchance I too may wail, for grief consumeth me within.” Informed that it was only a woman who was mourning for her strayed camel, he poured forth an impassioned threnody. “Doth she weep for her camel, and for it banish sleep from her eyes? Nay, if we will weep, let us weep over Bedr—weep for Okeil, and for Al-Harith the lion of lions!” Perhaps the Koreish now realized the irreparable and fatal error they had made in deciding to take Mohammed seriously. Had they persisted in their original intention—mocked at him as an idle dreamer and a crack-brained idiot—he might have lived and died harmlessly in Mecca. But persecution had proved to be his best friend: forced to defend himself and to become the head of a little protecting army, he had revealed an unsuspected military acumen that had reduced his hostile kinsmen to this desperate condition. One Spartan couple in Mecca, however, refused to join in the common woe. “Weep not for your slain, mourn not their loss, neither let the bard bewail their fate,” was the stern advice of Abu Sufyan. “If ye lament with elegies, it will ease your wrath and diminish your enmity toward Mohammed and his fellows. And, should that reach their ears, and they laugh at us, will not their scorn be worse than all? Haply the turn may come, and ye may yet obtain your revenge. As for me, I will touch no oil, neither approach my wife, until I shall have gone forth again to fight with Mohammed.” And when Abu’s wife, Hind, was chided for refusing to wail for her father, brother and uncle, she fiercely responded: “Nay, I will not weep until ye again wage war with Mohammed and his fellows. If tears could wipe the grief from off my heart, I too would weep as ye; but it is not thus with Hind.” Not to be outdone by her husband, she too declared that she would neither use oil nor approach her marital couch until an avenging Meccan army was on the march.