I
Six long years, with their burden of foreign and domestic struggles, had elapsed since the Hegira; yet the recollections of Mecca, the Kaba, the Black Stone—in short, the memories of home—had remained ineradicably fixed in the minds of the Prophet and his flock. About half of Arabia, and approximately three-fourths of his wives, might now be pretty well under his dominion; but his heart often troubled him when he recalled his sins of omission in failing to fulfil the Lesser and Greater Pilgrimages—and, incidentally, the hateful truth that the intransigent Koreish still ruled the beloved city. Why, therefore, should he not undertake a pilgrimage during one of the sacred months? for surely, the mere fact that he himself had previously violated their sanctity could not rightly be held against him if he returned as a humble penitent. The Koreish, bound by adamant Arabian custom, would almost certainly allow him and his followers to make their sacrifices to the national religion; and, even in case his ancient foes should molest the journeying Moslems, perhaps—perhaps—he would be able to deal with them.
In a dream he imagined himself and his worshiping band going through the stiff ritual of pilgrimage: encircling the Kaba, slaughtering the sacrificial victims, and completing the other well-remembered ceremonies. The Moslems, after listening to his fervid narration of this vision, pulsated with desire to accompany him; and so, having taken a bath and donned the two-piece pilgrim garb, in February, 628, he set out, mounted on Al-Kaswa, at the head of some fifteen hundred votaries each of whom was armed with a sword, a bow and a quiver of arrows. At one stage of the journey they halted and, uttering the plaintive cry “Labbeik! Labbeik! (Here am I, O Lord! Here am I!),” placed their curious ornaments around the necks of seventy votive camels. In the busy midst of these pious engagements, however, the Prophet did not neglect to dispatch a spy to report on the behavior of the Koreish; the envoy finally returned with the news that the Meccans were obviously distrustful of Mohammed’s peacefully religious intentions, and that, in very truth, a large body of armed Koreish was guarding the road that led to Mecca. “Their wives and little ones are with them,” said the spy, “and they have sworn to die rather than let thee pass,” adding the further detail that they were clothed in panthers’ skins—a symbol of their determination to fight like beasts in an effort to bar any advance. Mohammed and his people therefore decided to continue toward Mecca by a sinuous route that would lead them to the edge of the sacred city. At this juncture Al-Kaswa stopped short and refused to budge another inch. “She is weary,” the Moslems insisted; but the Prophet replied: “Nay, Al-Kaswa is not weary; but the same hand restraineth her as aforetime held back the elephant”—for, as became a loyal Arab, he had not forgotten how Arabia had been saved from the invader Abraha. He further declared that he would not march upon the city, for fear that the few Moslems who were still living there might chance to be harmed in the struggle that might take place; but it is also possible that he checked his advance because he had learnt that the Koreish, hearing of his own manœuver, had also deviated in such a way that they still blocked his path.
Very soon afterward, a Koreishite deputation approached to interview Mohammed. “I have no other design but to perform the pilgrimage of the Holy House,” he insisted, “and whosoever hindereth us therefrom, we shall fight against them.” This sally was met by the retort that the desperate Meccans “will not suffer this rabble of thine to approach the city.” A long, wrangling dispute followed in which blows came near being struck; and the only concession that the Prophet could obtain was the information that “this year he must go back; but in the year following he may come, and having entered Mecca then perform the pilgrimage.” Mohammed, who realized that his acquiescence to these instructions would irreparably harm his prestige, decided to send a counter delegation to Mecca. Omar was the first man requested to act in this capacity; but that fearless fighter begged off on the plea that he had no powerful relatives in the city to protect him against the Koreish, and, pointing to Othman—whose slight to Hafsa had not been forgotten—suggested that he be the Moslem representative. Othman had excused himself from fighting at Bedr on the grounds that his wife, the Prophet’s own daughter, was ill; but, realizing that the influence of his family connections would protect him on this occasion, he readily consented to depart. His return was so long delayed that Mohammed feared he might have been treacherously slain, and a tensely dramatic scene took place. The Prophet, standing beneath an acacia tree and encircled by the entire number of his votaries, requested a solemn pledge that they would not turn their backs, but, if necessary, would fight till the last man dropped; the covenant was individually sealed as each man clasped Mohammed’s outstretched hand—when Othman suddenly appeared, entirely unharmed. Nevertheless, the Prophet was immensely pleased; indeed, he never ceased to refer to this auspicious event, which had symbolized the strength of the union of religious ecstasy and martial enthusiasm that dominated his willing slaves.
A treaty of peace was eventually drawn up. For ten years the Koreish caravans were to be unmolested, and during this same period extraneous clans could be converted either to Islam or to the faith—such as it was—of Mecca; in the following year, also, the Moslems were to be allowed to complete their pilgrimage, but this year they must return unedified and still burdened with their sins. Perhaps Mohammed swallowed this bitter medicine the more readily because previous experience had taught him that treaties were mere scraps of paper; yet he found it excessively irritating to endure the high-handed methods of the noted orator Suheil, ambassador for the Koreish. The Prophet, assuming as a matter of course that he himself should phrase the language of the covenant, began to dictate to Ali, who willingly served as a scribe, in this high-flown manner: “In the name of God, most gracious and merciful”—“Stop!” Suheil abruptly interrupted, “as for God, we know Him; but this new name, we know it not. Say, as we have always said, In thy name, O God!” “In thy name, O God,” Mohammed repeated, “These are the conditions of peace between Mohammed the Prophet of God and”—“Stop again!” commanded the imperturbable spokesman. “If thou wert what thou sayest, I had not taken up arms against thee. Write, as the custom is, thine own name and thy father’s name.” “Write, then,” said the amazed but ever tactful Prophet, “between Mohammed son of Abdallah, and Suheil son of Amr....” and so on until the end. The document was then duly witnessed by members of both factions; and Mohammed, firmly resolved to perform at least a modicum of his vows, shaved his head (or cut his hair; historians have not determined the facts about the matter), and, while all the Moslems treated their heads in a similar manner, he directed that the doomed camels should be sacrificed.
The unexpected outcome of this journey left many Moslems unsatisfied. Some of them—both the “Shavers” and the “Cutters”—had refused to part with their hair until the Prophet ordered them to do so; Omar, in particular, had so completely recovered the strength of his trembling knees that he threatened to head a renegade movement. Obviously, therefore, it was high time to produce a new message from on high. Even before the return journey was begun, the words “Inspiration hath descended on him” were eagerly repeated throughout the encampment, and a great crowd collected around the Prophet, who, standing upright on Al-Kaswa’s broad back, began to intone thus: “Verily, We have given unto thee an evident Victory,” adding, at the end of a tediously prolix mass of jubilantly phrased but wholly unintelligible rhetoric: “Now hath God verified unto His Apostle the Vision in truth; ye shall surely enter the Holy Temple, if it please God, in security, having your heads shaven and your hair cut. Fear ye not; for He knoweth that which ye know not.” As he concluded, one of the onlookers exclaimed, “What! is this the Victory?” “Yes,” came the calm reply, “by Him in whose hand is my breath, it is a Victory.” And in fact, despite the Prophet’s muddy-mindedness on this occasion, there was much to justify his statement. Perhaps he realized that the peaceful outcome of his pompous expedition, which was certain to be noised over a large part of Arabia, would win him more converts than force had ever done—for had he not convinced the Koreish of his pacific intentions, and had they not treated him with high honor? Thus, indeed, it turned out; various tribes, hoodwinked by highly colored accounts of the pilgrimage, at once sought to make alliances with Mohammed; and the result was that, during the next year, Islam grew as it had never grown before.
Two interesting incidents took place soon after Mohammed had returned to Medina. Abu Basir, a youthful acolyte of Islam who still lived in Mecca, became so restless under the domination of the Koreish that, after a series of bold assaults and hairbreadth escapes, he managed to reach Medina in safety; the Prophet was so much stirred by the lad’s tale of rash but admirable bravery that he commented, as if speaking to himself: “What a kindler of war, if he had but with him a body of adherents!” Abu Basir, encouraged by these words, at once organized a band of seventy similarly inclined young braves who, for the next few months, assaulted Koreishite caravans and killed the captives with so much gusto that Mohammed, at the humble request of the Meccans, finally felt constrained to command the robbers to cease from kindling war. The second event was of an entirely different sort. Some of the Medinese Jews, who had openly and loudly proclaimed their adherence to Islam, surreptitiously obtained several of the Prophet’s blessed hairs, and, after tying them into eleven knots around the branch of a palm-tree, lowered the evil invention into a well. Their sly and malignant design was soon rewarded: Mohammed grew feeble, his mind became afflicted with stranger hallucinations than ever before, he neglected his devotions, and he even showed indifference toward his wives. But Gabriel shortly revealed the cause of his malady; the well was examined, the necromantic knots were loosed, and the Prophet, thus freed from the voodooistic spell, experienced a lively recrudescence of his manifold talents.
The time finally drew near when, according to the terms of the treaty, the Koreish were to evacuate Mecca for three days so that the Moslems might perform their pilgrimage in peace. On this occasion about two thousand zealots accompanied Mohammed, and, although each one was restricted by treaty to carry only a sword, a large amount of armor was taken along, while the travelers were also preceded by a considerable force of cavalry. As the procession approached the holy city, the Koreish obediently withdrew and, stationed on the surrounding hills, kept a wary eye on the curious scenes that followed. The eager devotees, upon viewing the deeply revered Kaba again for the first time in seven years, raised the now almost joyous ululation, “Labbeik! Labbeik!” Mohammed, astride Al-Kaswa as usual, neared the Kaba, gently touched the Black Stone with his staff, and—apparently still mounted on Al-Kaswa—went seven times around the sacred temple. His absorption in these reverent pursuits, however, did not cause him to forget more important concerns: at his special bidding, the Moslems footraced around the Kaba three times at top speed, to demonstrate to the observant Koreish that they were in excellent physical condition; then, at a somewhat slower pace, they circled the building four times more.
Three days were occupied in fulfilling the remaining rites; yet the Prophet, who, through the aid of Al-Kaswa, had kept himself fresher than his foot-sore compatriots, and who had meanwhile taken the opportunity to engage himself to Meimuna, continued to tarry in apparent forgetfulness of his sworn promise to leave the city on the third day. He was brought rudely to his senses on the morning of the fourth day, when two leaders of the Koreish came abruptly up and said: “The period allowed thee hath elapsed; depart now therefore from amongst us.” “And what harm if ye allowed me to stay a little longer,” Mohammed graciously inquired, “celebrate my nuptials in your midst, and make for the guests a feast at which ye too might all sit down?” “Nay,” was the harsh answer, “of any food of thine we have no need. Withdraw from hence!” To disobey was to invite an immediate war; and inasmuch as the Prophet was not yet ready for the struggle that, in his heart of hearts, he had long anticipated, he directed that an immediate departure be made—a stipulation that compelled him to content himself with the consummation of his nuptials at a spot about ten miles from Mecca.
But, despite its somewhat inglorious conclusion, the grandiose adventure accomplished several things of much importance. In a general way, Mohammed benefited from the fact that the Koreish had not failed to be impressed by the dignified yet ominous Moslemite display of religious and warlike ardor. With their own eyes, they had seen what an exalted rank the renegade Prophet had attained among his servile henchmen; they had noted, too, the instantaneous and unquestioning obedience with which his least desire had been met. He profited, also, in that the deepest instincts of his confederates had been aroused at the renewed visitation of the familiar and unforgettable scenes of those happy, bygone days when they had dwelt in peace and moderate prosperity at Mecca, until the implacable requirements of Islam had wrenched them from their cherished moorings. Once again they had been irresistibly compelled to realize that they were but outcasts and wanderers, to whom Medina had never grown really congenial, and who now poignantly reflected that Mecca, and Mecca alone, was home. In particular, the Prophet gained two notable converts to Islam: Khalid, who had commanded the cavalry that brought about the Moslem defeat at Uhud, and Amr—who was equally versatile in poetry, diplomacy, and military strategy—were so impressed by Mohammed’s magnificent gesture in conducting the Moslems to Mecca that they decided to desert the vacillating Koreish and cast their fortunes with the progressive cause of Islam. Under the Caliphs who succeeded the Prophet, the intrepid Khalid—divinely protected by some of Mohammed’s hair which he wore in his cap as a charm against misfortune—won such imperial victories that he acquired the title “The Sword of Allah”; and the sagacious counsels of Amr also won him a high place in the annals of Islam. Furthermore, the accession of these two was not without its immediate effect. They were straws that showed how the wind was veering: the Koreish had not only failed to recover the prestige they had dropped at Bedr, and to benefit by the Moslem debacle at Uhud, but they had lost the confidence of some of their outstanding men of action. The time was swiftly approaching when the rankling stigma of Uhud would be blotted out, when the Prophet would take a final and complete revenge on his life-long enemies, and when the Meccans would treat Allah with an even more touching reverence than they already bestowed upon Al-Ozza, Hubal, the Kaba and the Black Stone.