Arabian Knights
Volume 1

(Knights of Arabia Series)

By Aisha Bilal
Copyrights
Copyright 2011, 2012 Aisha Bilal.
All Rights Reserved.
Smashwords Edition 2013.

Thank you for downloading this gratis ebook. Although this is a gratis book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Cover design by Abdiah Bougary: http://www.abdiahbougary.com
Dedications
For my Father, who taught me Philosophy and Theology.
For my Mother, who taught me Literature and Music.

For Solaiman, a smart and funny Arabian Knight.
For Zahra, a fiery and bright Arabian Lady.

For Maya, an Arabian Princess with attitude.
For Bary, an Arabian Sheikh with style.
Table of Contents:
Copyrights
Dedications
Chapter 1: Antarah bin Shaddad Al-Abssee - Slavery and Bravery
Chapter 2: Hatim Al-Taaee - Legendary Generosity
Chapter 3: Owes bin Haritha - Gifts and Insults
Chapter 4: Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir - A Lost King
Chapter 5: Abd Al-Muttalib bin Hashim - Sons and Sacrifices
Chapter 6: Ghaelan bin Salamah - Diplomacy and Flattery
Chapter 7: Abu Sufyan and Heraclius - Questions and Predictions
Chapter 8: Hajib bin Zura’rah - Hajib’s Bow
Chapter 9: Abu Al-Qassim Al-Tanbouri - Madas and Mistakes
Chapter 10: Three Nimble Minds - The Power of Words
Sources
Author’s Note
About the Author
Cover Preview: Arabian Knights - Volume 2
Chapter 1: Antarah bin Shaddad Al-Absee - Slavery and Bravery
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Where a healthy baby boy was born to a midnight-skinned slave woman named Zabeebah, and a sun-darkened Bedouin man named Shaddad Al-Absee. At the time, there was no hard and fast rule as to the status of a child born to a slave woman, so the boy’s father simply didn’t acknowledge the baby as his own. As a result, the newborn, Antarah, and his mother remained in his father's household as slaves.
As the years passed, Antarah watched with envy as his half-brothers grew in both wealth and importance while he remained a lowly slave, performing menial tasks and watching over his father's cattle. Then one day, a neighboring tribe raided Antarah’s people and a desperate battle ensued.
As the fighting raged on, Antarah stood impassively by and watched while his father and half-brothers desperately fought to protect their cattle and possessions from the raiders. Why, Antarah thought bitterly, should I fight to protect men who care nothing for me, and defend possessions that will never be mine?
Before long, Antarah's stillness caught his father’s eye. Shaddad called angrily to his unacknowledged son, “Fight, Antarah!”
Antarah gave his father a cool look and replied serenely, “A slave does not fight well. He is only good for herding and serving.”
Infuriated by his son’s pat reply, Shaddad barked, “Fight, Antarah!!”
Antarah, thoroughly unmoved by his father’s commands, replied in a calm voice, “A slave does not fight well. He is only good for herding and serving.”
Fearing the raiders would win the battle and ruthlessly loot his tribe and enslave its people, Antarah's father made a quick decision and called out, “Kur wa anta hur (Fight and you're free)!”
With a grim smile, Antarah indicated his acceptance of his father’s terms by leaping suddenly into action. He bolted forward, swooped down and snatched up a sword from a fallen warrior. Like an energetic reaper briskly leveling a field of wheat, Antarah gracefully swung the sword around himself in great gleaming arcs, easily cutting down any raiders who came within range.
Antarah’s phenomenal strength and deadly skill quickly turned the tides of battle. The raiders all retreated fearfully from the grim young warrior with the blazing eyes who so easily slew anyone who dared face him. Meanwhile, the defenders redoubled their efforts sensing that victory was at hand now that Antarah had joined the fray. After trading a few wide-eyed looks, the raiders decided they had had enough and they all turned tail and fled, leaving the Absee tribe proud and victorious and still in possession of their cattle.
That night, the members of the Absee tribe gathered to celebrate their victory over the raiders. During the boisterous festivities, Shaddad proudly claimed the hero of the hour, Antarah, as his son. He also declared Antarah to be a free man from that day forward.
Little did Shaddad know that his newly recognized son, Antarah, would bring great fame and fortune to the Absee tribe. Over the course of his life, Antarah became a renowned warrior and a celebrated poet. And the story of Antarah's undying love for his beautiful cousin, Abla, became one of the most famous romance stories of all time.
Chapter 2: Hatim Al-Taaee - Legendary Generosity
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Where a man named Hatim Al-Taaee became a legend. He was a warrior, but he was not the best of warriors. He was a poet, but he was not the best of poets. He was a son, but he was not the best of sons. He was a husband, but he was not the best of husbands. He was a father, but he was not the best of fathers.
So what was he best at? What made him so great? What made him a legend? The answer is simple: He had the most generous and giving nature that anyone had ever heard of.
Arabs have long considered generosity to be the highest of virtues. In a land where everyone had so little - and they often had to fight to keep what little they had - the ability to give of one's precious resources was indeed a noteworthy virtue. All Arabs try diligently to gain and uphold a reputation as giving and generous hosts, and many a tale has been told of their successes and failures. But Hatim Al-Taaee was different; he surpassed them all with his inexhaustible, some might even say foolhardy, generosity.
To illustrate this, three of the most memorable stories of Hatim's legendary generosity will be mentioned here:
***  - 1 -  ***
One year, sandstorms came through the arid desert and scoured it clean of all of its hidden waters and scant grasses. The cattle grew thin and listless with hunger, as did the members of the T’ey tribe. During this time, on a cruelly cold night, Hatim's three children, Abdullah, Udai, and Saffana, wept piteously from hunger.
Hatim and his wife, Nowarr, searched high and low but could find nothing to feed their small hungry children. So they each picked up a tired, weeping child and soothed them as best they could. Once the children they held fell asleep, they both soothed their third child until he, too, fell asleep.
With the children settled for the night, Hatim and Nowarr exhaustedly lay down and sought refuge from their own hunger in the oblivion of sleep. Hatim tried to comfort his troubled wife with quiet promises of wild game he would hunt on the morrow. His wife realized that he was trying to soothe her too, so she humored Hatim and pretended to sleep.
As the night wore on, Hatim finally grew tired and began to drift off to sleep. In contrast, Nowarr could not sleep for worrying. Game was scarce, there was no guarantee that Hatim would be successful in his hunt, and in the morning the children would be even more hungry and fretful than before. With all of these thoughts whirling through her mind, Nowarr simply couldn't sleep.
As Hatim dozed and Nowarr worried, someone suddenly lifted up one of the sides of their tent. Hatim leapt up, a hand on his dagger, and said sternly, “Who is it?”
A woman's voice answered, “It is your neighbor, O' Father of Udai. I could find no one to help me except for you. I come from where my sons wail and howl like wolves because of their hunger.”
Hatim replied confidently, “Then bring them to me!”
The woman left quickly, stepping lightly as though a great weight had been lifted off her tired, careworn shoulders.
Nowarr called out to her husband with outrage in her voice, “What will you do?! By god, you could find nothing to feed your own weeping children, what could you find for her and her sons?!”
Hatim replied quietly as he left the tent, “Be still. By god, I will feed you and all of them, too!”
The neighbor-woman soon returned carrying two children, one in each arm, with four more walking beside her. Like an ostrich surrounded by her young, Nowarr thought resentfully.
Hatim stepped up to his horse, which he would have used to go hunting the next day, and unhesitatingly plunged a spear into it, killing it instantly. He then lit a fire, pulled out his knife, cut the dead horse open, handed the knife to the neighbor-woman and said with a flourish in the horse’s direction, “After you.”
As the woman and her children hungrily cooked and consumed the horseflesh, Hatim called to Nowarr to bring their children forward so that they, too, may eat. Once his wife and children were gathered round the ample bounty of horse meat, Hatim said, “It would be wrong to eat and not invite those who live around us.”
He then headed off into the surrounding darkness and started inviting all his neighbors to come and eat some fresh horse meat. The people who heard him came eagerly to fill their painfully empty bellies and they brought their sleepy, ravenous children with them.
While everyone gathered round the fire, which sizzled and popped as the fat from the cooking horsemeat dripped into it, Hatim wrapped himself up in his cloak and laid himself down nearby. He watched silently as everyone ate, never taking so much as a mouthful for himself despite the hunger that gnawed so mercilessly at his own belly.
When morning came, so great had the people's hunger been that there was nothing left of Hatim's horse save for its bones and its hooves.
***  - 2 -  ***
Hatim once met Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir, a wealthy and famous king. Al-Numan had heard a great deal about Hatim and his ever-growing reputation for generosity. More than anything, Al-Numan wished to showcase his own generosity and become a part of the many stories told about Hatim. So the king praised Hatim for his giving ways and then grandly bestowed upon him two camels loaded down with gold and silver in addition to many other treasures.
When Hatim returned to his tribe weighted down by the Al-Numan’s many gifts, he was met by his tribesman who looked upon his new acquisitions covetously and said in wheedling tones, “Hatim, you have come from the king with great wealth, and we have come from our homes with great poverty.”
Hatim replied with an amused grin, “Then come, take what I have brought ,and divide it among yourselves.”
Rejoicing, the people rushed forward and began to unload and divide the glimmering cargo that the sturdy camels had so patiently carried across the shifting desert sands.
A woman from Hatim's household, Turaifa, saw what was happening so she anxiously called out to Hatim, “Ya Hatim, keep something for yourself! They will not leave you so much as a dirham or a donkey!”
Hatim placidly replied with a few lines of poetry to the effect that what he had was given to him by god, and god was simply using him to redistribute it; and that when his dirhams gathered themselves together, they would then race away from him towards those who needed them more.
By the time Hatim reached his family's home, he had nothing left of the numerous riches Al-Numan had bestowed upon him, not even the camels. What's more, Hatim was perfectly satisfied with how events had unfolded and he arrived home lighthearted and empty handed.
***  - 3 -  ***
Hatim was once asked, “Is there any Arab more generous than you?”
Hatim replied, “All of the Arabs are more generous than me.” Then he told this story:
I once stopped for the night as the guest of a boy who was an orphan. This boy's livelihood consisted of one hundred goats. On that night, he slaughtered one of his goats and prepared it for me for dinner.
Along with the goat's meat, he also served me its brain as a delicacy. Not wishing to seem ungrateful, I tried it, and to my surprise, I found it delicious, and I told the boy so. Politely, the boy brought me more of it, and he kept bringing me more until I declared that I couldn't eat another bite. It wasn't until the next morning that I realized he had slain all one hundred of his goats in order to keep me supplied with the delicacy of goat brain that I had so lavishly praised.
The people listening to this story asked Hatim eagerly, “So what did you do? How did you thank him?”
Hatim replied with a shrug, “What could I do? How could I thank him for such generosity? It just wasn't possible. To show him my gratitude though, I gave him one hundred camels from the best of my stock.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Many people often wonder where Hatim learned his habit of open-handed generosity. The answer apparently is that Hatim learned generosity from his mother Ghania bint Amr. She often gave away everything she owned because she simply couldn’t ignore anyone’s plea for help.
Once they became aware of her behavior, Ghania’s brothers decided to teach her a lesson. They locked her up in her house for a year, only giving her enough food to prevent her from starving to death. When the year was up, they freed her and thought that after such deprivation, she had surely learnt her lesson.
When they finally gave her a portion of her property, they told her to do with it whatever she wished. Not long afterwards, a woman from the Hawazin tribe came to her and wept as she told Ghania her troubles and asked pitifully for help.
Ghania didn’t hesitate for a moment as she gave the Hawazin woman all the money and valuables that she had. In caring, understanding tones she told the woman, “This property is less important than you are. By god I have tasted such hunger that I will never turn away someone in need again, regardless of what they ask for.”
Growing up with such a generous-hearted woman for a mother no doubt left a lasting impression on Hatim Al-Taaee. Decades later, Hatim and his generous heart also left a lasting impression on his children. So it often is that such a good example runs through the generations like a cool healing breeze through the hot burning desert.
Chapter 3: Owes bin Haritha - Gifts and Insults
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old… 
Where the king of Al-Heira, Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir, was holding court. Attending his court that day were several important members of various Arabian tribes. As each of these men arrived, they cast admiring glances at what Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir was wearing that day: a robe completely covered in softly glowing pearls.
One by one, the men sat down and remarked upon the king's gleaming garment to one another. Each pearl was worth a fortune, some said. All of the pearls together were worth a dozen king’s ransoms, others replied. The like of such an extravagant item of clothing had never existed, they all agreed, nodding sagely.
In contrast, one man arrived and sat down without so much as glancing at the pearl encrusted robe. The man, Owes bin Haritha, also didn't make a single remark to anyone about the shining robe, or the great value of such a garment. Instead he sat silently, seemingly oblivious to the king’s newest and most expensive article of clothing.
Piqued, Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir reproachfully addressed Owes bin Haritha, “Every man who came in has admired this robe, and spoken of his admiration to those around him, except you. You didn't seem to admire, or even notice it.”
Owes replied suavely, “May god keep the king! A robe covered in pearls is beautiful and eye-catching in the hands of a merchant. When a king wears it, the luster of the king's face dulls the luster of the robe, and so my eyes saw only the king, not the robe.”
Al-Numan felt very flattered by Owes' ready answer, so he smiled his approval and let the matter drop.
Later, when the men who had attended Al-Numan's court were leaving, Al-Numan announced grandly, “Come to me again tomorrow, that I may give this robe to the Master of the Arabs who have attended me on this day.”
As they left, the men could barely contain their excitement at the prospect of owning the king’s unique robe. They spoke eagerly of the renown and wealth they would gain by being presented with such a robe and each man boasted to his neighbor that he would surely be wearing that priceless robe home the next day. In contrast, Owes bin Haritha said not a word to anyone; he just quietly made his way back to his encampment.
The next morning, the men who had attended Al-Numan's court the previous day took extra care in preparing themselves. They all wore the fanciest clothes they could find, carried the best swords they owned, and they all arrived riding the most beautiful horses they had. All except for Owes bin Haritha, who had no intention of attending Al-Numan's court that day.
Owes' companions had urged him to attend Al-Numan's court that morning to see if the pearl covered robe would be his, but he steadfastly refused. Sagely, Owes explained his decision to his baffled companions, “I may be the master of my people, but I am not the Master of the Arabs. I fear that if I attend and am not given the robe, then I will leave a lesser man. If I do not attend and the robe is to be mine, then they know where to find me and I will have lost nothing.” 
Convinced by his argument, his friends and companions bowed to his wisdom and left Owes in peace. Meanwhile, Al-Numan carefully looked over the men who had arrived at his court that morning but try as he might, he did not see Owes bin Haritha among them. Disappointed, he summoned one of his attendants and ordered him to go and find Owes and see why he had not attended Al-Numan’s court as instructed.
The attendant hurried to where Owes and his people were staying and spoke to some of Owes' companions who eagerly told him why Owes had refrained from going to court. The attendant returned to Al-Numan and faithfully told him what he had been told. Al-Numan then sent his attendant back again with instructions to speak to Owes and say, “Come, you are safe from that which you fear.”
When Owes arrived before Al-Numan, he wore the same clothes he had worn the day before. Amused, Al-Numan said to him, “It appears you have not changed your clothes since yesterday. Take this robe to use as your finery.”
Al-Numan then took off the glimmering pearl-robe he had been wearing and threw it round Owes' shoulders. The other men attending Al-Numan's court grew both angry and envious when they saw that. They quietly decided that the only way for them to avenge themselves on Owes bin Haritha, and to strip him of what they considered an undue honor, was to encourage the poets to write scathing poetry about him. That way this honor the king had bestowed on Owes would be forgotten and he would be publicly ridiculed for generations to come.
To this end, the slighted men pooled their resources and gathered together five hundred camels. They then offered the camels as payment to anyone who would write a poem demeaning and ridiculing Owes. After some debate, they approached a well-known poet called Jarwal, who was famous for his ability to write highly insulting, and very popular, poetry.
After listening politely, Jarwal refused the men's proposal and said apologetically, “O' People, how can I insult a man whose name and honor is unassailable, who is generous without limits, who is unarguably wise, who is brave without cowardice, and who is giving to the point where I see nothing in my own home that he did not give me?!”
Jarwal's refusal was good news for a poet named Bishir bin Abi Khazim. He had heard rumors of the rich reward, and he let his greed get the better of his good sense. Eagerly, he contacted the jealous men, accepted their offer of five hundred camels and composed a long poem insulting Owes bin Haritha and his mother, Suada.
Inevitably, Owes heard the poem and he was thoroughly enraged by its contents. It was one thing for Bishir to insult him in a poem, but to insult his mother was unforgivable. Spurred by his fury, Owes rode out immediately to find Bishir, promising that he would punish him dearly for his insolence. He also sent his men out far and wide to seek out any and all news concerning the poet’s whereabouts.
Word quickly reached Bishir that Owes was looking for him so he wisely decided to make himself scarce. It seemed that Bishir’s fear of Owes outweighed his greed after all because when he fled, he abandoned his newly-acquired five hundred camels.
Upon arriving at Bishir's home, Owes found the camels but not Bishir. Still angry about the insult to his mother, Owes confiscated Bishir’s camels and redoubled his efforts to find the fleeing poet.
In the meantime, Bishir was going from tribe to tribe looking for someone, anyone, with enough power to grant him sanctuary and defend him against Owes' wrath. But every man he talked to gave Bishir the same reply, “I will give you sanctuary and defend you against anyone…except Owes bin Haritha.”
Growing impatient, Owes placed a hefty bounty on Bishir's head which he promised to any man who could bring Bishir to him alive. Not long after the bounty was announced, Bishir was captured by eager bounty hunters and brought before Owes, tied hand and foot.
As soon as Bishir was unceremoniously dragged before him, Owes said in thunderous tones, “Now you'll pay! How dare you speak so of my mother, when there is not another woman anywhere who is her equal?!”
Frightened, Bishir replied, “Did I, O' Prince?”
Owes was further angered by Bishir's cowardice, “By god, I will kill you in such a way as to make Suada immortal!”
Then turning on his heel, Owes strode away to speak to his mother. When he stood before her, he said with pride, “I have brought you the poet that insulted you, and I have sworn to kill him in such a way as to make you immortal!”
Suada was not impressed. She replied to her son’s heated words in soft and patient tones, “My son, there is a better way to deal with him.”
“What way, Mother?” Owes said, a little nonplussed by his mother's reaction.
“My son, he could find no one to grant him sanctuary or to defend him against you. We are a people who find no shame in kindness. By your obligation to me as your mother, will you not release him? And return his camels to him, and give him the same from your herds, and the same again from mine as well? Then take him back to his family, for they have despaired of his safe return.”
After Suada had spoken, Owes was surprised to find that for the first time since he had heard that insulting poem, his anger had ebbed. His mother's words seemed to have washed away his rage and guided him to a road only the kind and the wise may travel: the high road.
Owes went out and stood before the bound and frightened Bishir. In a terrible voice he thundered, “What do you think I am going to do with you?”
“You will no doubt kill me,” Bishir said in a sad and defeated voice.
“Do you think you deserve to die?” Owes challenged him.
“Yes?” Bishir replied, unsure what the right thing to say was.
“Suada, the woman you insulted in your poem, has advised me to release you, return your camels to you, give you their equal from my herds and another five hundred from her herds,” Owes said, suddenly using gentler tones.
He then stepped forward and cut Bishir free. Smiling benevolently at the cowering poet before him, Owes told Bishir, “Go home to your family, and take with you what I have bestowed upon you!”
Bishir was thunderstruck. After the long pursuit, the terrifying capture and the frightening promise of a terrible death, he was to live after all and return home a rich man to boot?! How could this be?
At first, Bishir could not believe his ears, then he raised his hands skywards and called out, “God witness that I will never speak another word of poetry again except to praise Owes bin Haritha and his family!!!”
Owes laughed at Bishir's exuberant reaction. Then he took Bishir gently by the arm and led him away to gather his one thousand and five hundred camels. That same day, Owes and his men escorted Bishir safely home to his family, who greeted him with great relief and many tears.
Chapter 4: Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir - A Lost King
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Where an affluent Arabian king, named Al-Numan bin Al-Munthir, decided he was bored, so he gathered up his fawning court and rode out to hunt. Unfortunately for the king, his horse that day was a spirited stallion with a mind of its own. It broke free from the hunting party and ran away with the king, who was clinging in a most undignified manner to its mane.
Despite their best efforts, the members of the king's hunting party could not keep up with the swift stallion and before long, they were all left behind. The king, no longer bored, found himself lost and very much alone as the stallion continued to gallop hither and thither.
After the headstrong stallion had run itself into exhaustion, it calmed down enough for Al-Numan to finally regain control of it. The lost king rode aimlessly about until nightfall, hoping to come across someone who could show him the way home.
As the night grew darker and rain started to fall, Al-Numan searched for any kind of shelter with increasing urgency. It took some time, but he finally came across a small tent which was the home of a poor man, Hanthala, and his wife.
Despite the darkness and the late hour, the solitary couple fearlessly came forward to take in their unexpected guest. Just as quickly as he could have wished, the king found himself safe and warm and with a stomach filled with freshly grilled lamb.
To his surprise, Al-Numan greatly enjoyed the company of his impoverished hosts, who were both kind and caring people, and the three of them stayed up late talking. As soon as his eyes grew heavy with sleep, Al-Numan was given warm blankets and was ushered into the humble tent where he slept comfortably through what remained of the stormy night.
The next morning, which dawned bright and clear, Al-Numan took his leave of his gracious hosts. He lithely mounted his horse and, just before he rode away, revealed his identity to the surprised couple. He told them that if they ever came to see him, he would reward them greatly for their kindness. The king of Al-Heira then trotted away on his horse, leaving the speechless couple standing before their tent.
Not long afterwards, Al-Numan came across his frantic hunting party and safely made his way back home.
Time passed and the fortunes of Hanthala and his wife began to wane further and further. They soon found themselves in truly desperate straits. Recalling the strange man who had claimed himself a king, Hanthala's wife urged her husband to go to the court of the king of Al-Heira and, should it prove to be their guest, ask him for the promised reward. Seeing the wisdom in his wife's council, Hanthala set out.
Hanthala neared the court of the king of Al-Heira and found himself traveling on a well-tended road which he deemed quite a luxury. As he rode along, he saw a man sitting on a horse that stood patiently by side of the rode. When he reached the strangely still forms, Hanthala saw that the man on the horse was his one-time guest and that there was a camp filled with well-dressed people nearby.
“It's true then?” Hanthala said happily. “You are the king of Al-Heira?!”
Al-Numan sat on his horse and was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said quietly to Hanthala, “You are the man who gave me shelter on that rainy night. I wish you had come yesterday or even tomorrow! Curse it! Now I will have to kill you.”
Appalled by this reply, Hanthala knew not what to say or where to look. By then, both he and the king of Al-Heira had been surrounded by the members of the king's richly dressed court. Someone stepped forward and quietly whispered to the shocked man why today was to be the day he died.
Apparently, in a moment of boredom and insane whim, Al-Numan had decreed that he would sit by the side of the road every day. On one day, whoever encountered him first, he would make a rich man and treat him like a prince. On the next day, whoever encountered him first, he would sentence to death and have the sentence carried out that very day.
Day after day, Al-Numan would amuse himself by making some men rich and having others executed according to what day it was. And he did this simply because he was bored.
For the first time since he had begun his cruel game of life and death, Al-Numan found himself feeling conflicted. He remembered Hanthala and his wife well, and he recalled their generosity and kindness so very vividly, and with so much gratitude. It grieved him to make a widow of the kind woman, and a corpse of her equally kind husband, rather than giving them the riches he had promised them.
Hanthala hoped to reason with Al-Numan so he said in a pleading voice, “I had no knowledge of this decree! Will you kill me for my ignorance?!”
“Curse it!” Al-Numan growled, “If Qaboos, my son, came across me on this day, I would kill him, too! I cannot make ANY exceptions! Ask me for whatever you wish in this life because you are moving on to the next life soon.”
“What use have I for worldly wealth if I am dead?!” Hanthala cried out unhappily.
“No exceptions,” Al-Numan said firmly, mercilessly.
“At least, delay my sentence until I can return to my family and set my affairs in order. I swear to you I will return,” Hanthala said with despair churning in his stomach and weakening his knees.
Al-Numan pondered Hanthala’s words for a while as his conflicted emotions chased one another across his face. Then his face cleared and he said, “Someone here must guarantee your return, and be willing to be killed in your place should you fail to return.”
Hanthala turned to Al-Numan's closest friend, Shareek bin Amr, and spoke the following lines of poetry:
O' Shareek O' son of Amr --- is not death inevitable?
O' brother to the injured --- O brother to the brotherless
O' brother to Al-Numan --- Free his guest today
Fearing for his life and unmoved by Hanthala's pleas and poetry, Shareek bin Amr refused to guarantee Hanthala's return. Hanthala stood there with sweat pouring down his face, knowing that if Shareek was too afraid to guarantee his return, then no one would.
Just then a man from the Bani Kalib tribe, named Qurad bin Ajda'a stepped forward and addressed Al-Numan, “Curse it! I'll guarantee him!”
“You?” Al-Numan said, startled.
“Yes,” Qurad returned defiantly.
“So be it,” Al-Numan said in clipped tones.
He then ordered that five hundred camels be given to Hanthala, and that he be allowed to go home to his family, provided he agreed to return in exactly one year's time. Hanthala left that day knowing that if he failed to return, Al-Numan would have Qurad bin Ajda'a killed in his stead.
Exactly one year later, Al-Numan gathered his court and set out for the stretch of road where he usually waited for his next unwitting victim or beneficiary. As soon as he arrived there, he issued an order for Qurad to be killed.
Al-Numan's ministers quickly objected saying it was premature to kill Qurad so early in the day, Hanthala may yet return. Al-Numan hesitated because he would rather kill Qurad than Hanthala, but he was unwilling to fight his ministers over a few hours’ time, so he agreed to delay Qurad's execution.
Hour after hour, Al-Numan and his court sat and waited. Qurad stood looking down the road, his face a mix of hope and despair. Next to him, Al-Numan's executioner stood, sword in hand, ready to kill Qurad as soon as Al-Numan gave the order.
After many hours of anxious waiting, the sun began to set and Qurad's wife began to weep while her husband’s eyes grew dim with despair.
“Kill him!” Al-Numan ordered sharply.
“Wait!” a voice cried, “I see a man approaching!”
Everyone turned to the road except Al-Numan's executioner who turned to the king. Angrily, Al-Numan conceded with ill grace, “We will wait until the man, whoever he is, arrives.”
When the man arrived, it proved to be none other than Hanthala. Al-Numan looked reproachfully at his kind host and said sadly, “What made you return? You were safe!”
“Faithfulness,” Hanthala shrugged as though his imminent death didn’t bother him at all.
“What makes you so faithful?” Al-Numan demanded sullenly.
“My religion,” Hanthala said.
“What religion is that?” Al-Numan asked, curious now.
“Christianity,” Hanthala replied proudly.
“Tell me about it,” Al-Numan commanded.
So Hanthala spent the next few hours speaking to Al-Numan and his court of his Christian faith. When he had finished, Al-Numan became a Christian and the people of his court quickly followed suit.
Al-Numan then declared that he had pardoned both Qurad and Hanthala, and said, “I know not which of these two men is more faithful and generous, the man who could have left and disappeared but instead came back, or the man that guaranteed him at the risk of his own life. By God, I will not be the lesser man of the three!”
Hanthala smiled and said:
I could not betray his faith (in me) --- After his kindness to me on that day
Though my wife begged me to stay --- I could only do things the right way
That very night Al-Numan rescinded his cruel decree and from that day forth, travelers on the Arabian king's roads were able to come and go in peace.
Chapter 5: Abd Al-Muttalib bin Hashim - Sons and Sacrifices
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Called Mecca where a man named Abd Al-Muttalib hoped and wished and prayed that god would bless him with healthy sons who would live to adulthood. In those days, many children were born and almost as many children died, so Abd Al-Muttalib knew that his wish could not easily be fulfilled.
After a great deal of thought, Abd Al-Muttalib became convinced that god would grant him his heart's desire if he added a little incentive to his prayers. So he swore a mighty oath that if he had ten sons, and they all grew up to be strong and healthy men, he would sacrifice one of them to god in front of the Ka'aba (the House of God).
Many years later, Abd Al-Muttalib was reminded of his youthful oath by the sight of his sons; his ten strong and healthy sons to be exact. Each and every one of them had grown to adulthood and become a source of pride and joy to his aging father. Whenever Abd Al-Muttalib looked at his sons, he thought of his oath with a deep sense of regret.
To ignore the oath and not carry through with it was simply unthinkable. Abd Al-Muttalib had made a bargain with god. If he did not keep his end of the bargain, god might take back what he had given Abd Al-Muttalib: ten sons.
With a heavy heart, Abd Al-Muttalib gathered his sons together, told them of his rash oath, and asked them their opinion on the matter.
“The matter is as you see it, Father,” they replied, “We are yours to do with as you wish.”
Heartened by their reply, Abd Al-Muttalib told each of his sons to go and get an arrow. When they returned carrying their respective arrows, he gathered all the arrows in a bunch and announced that the owner of whichever arrow was picked would be the son he would sacrifice.
All the young men held their breath as their father shook the bag he had placed the arrows in. As he reached his hand into the bag, the silence was stark and absolute. Abd Al-Muttalib withdrew an arrow and saw to his horror that it belonged to his youngest son, Abdullah.
All the young men exhaled, some with relief that they were safe, some with horror that the much-loved Abdullah had been chosen. One son however exhaled with what could only be called a sob of grief.
Abu Talib, Abdullah's full-blooded brother could not believe that Abdullah had been so ill-fated. Abdullah seemed to go through life with his own personal lucky star shinning down on him. For Abdullah's luck to desert him at such a crucial moment was both unthinkable, and unbearably tragic.
Abd Al-Muttalib numbly put the arrow down and taking his youngest son, Abdullah, by the hand, he wordlessly set out for the Ka'aba in the center of Mecca.
Abu Talib sat in stunned silence with the rest of his brothers, or rather his half-brothers. Abdullah was the only one of his brothers from the same mother. Suddenly, as though they had all been released from some evil spell that held them immobile, they wheeled around as one and hurried after their father and brother.
“No!” Abu Talib screamed when he saw his father lay his brother down between two of the idols placed in front of the Ka'aba, and then raise his knife.
“Father, don't!” Abu Talib cried out as he launched himself at his father and struggled with him for possession of the knife. Abu Talib glanced down as he fought his father and his eyes met the sad, resigned eyes of his brother, Abdullah.
“No, father! Please, don't!” Abu Talib begged.
The other people around the Ka'aba were surprised when they saw Abd Al-Muttalib holding a knife and struggling with his son, Abu Talib, over the prone form of his youngest son, Abdullah. They quickly gathered around the three and demanded to know what was going on.
When everything was explained, the men of the Banu Makhzoom clan stepped forward and swore to protect Abdullah from his father. They said Abdullah's mother was from the Banu Makhzoom clan and they would not allow Abd Al-Muttalib to kill a man of their blood.
“If you must fulfill your oath,” they said hotly, “Then pick one of your other sons. One who does not have Banu Makhzoom blood in his veins!”
“I chose his arrow, not the arrow of one of his brothers. The decision has been made. He must be the one sacrificed,” Abd Al-Muttalib replied grimly.
“Never!” the men of Banu Makhzoom cried out fiercely, “We will fight to the last man and sacrifice all of our wealth to save him.”
Just then the elders of the clans of Quraish interrupted, “What you propose to do is no small thing. If you kill your own son, then you will never have another moment of peace as long as you live!”
Seeing the determined look on Abd Al-Muttalib's face, the elders continued, “Wait! Just wait! Why not go and consult the priestess of Bani Sa'ida? Who better than she to tell you what god's will is in this matter?”
Abd Al-Muttalib hoped there was a way of settling his oath without killing his son, so he readily agreed to the Qurashi elders' suggestion.
That very day, Abd Al-Muttalib set out with a delegation of Banu Makhzoom men to consult the priestess of Bani Sa'ida. As soon as they arrived, Abd Al-Muttalib explained his oath to the priestess and how god had subsequently granted his prayers, giving him ten strong and healthy sons who had lived to adulthood.
The priestess listened with interest to Abd Al-Muttalib's story but when he asked her what he should do, she told him expressionlessly, “Leave me now. Return tomorrow and I will tell you then what you must do.”
Content to leave the matter in her capable hands, the men respectfully took their leave.
The next day, they returned to the priestess who asked them, “What is the usual amount of a blood-debt for your people?”
The men replied almost in unison, “Ten camels.”
“Very well,” the priestess said briskly clapping her hands together, “Go home and take the boy back to the Ka'aba and take with you ten camels. Once there, mark an arrow for the boy and an arrow for the ten camels, place them in a bag, reach in blindly and choose one. If the camels' arrow is chosen, then sacrifice the camels in place of the boy. If the boy's arrow is chosen, then add another ten to the number of camels and try again. Every time the boy's arrow is chosen, add another ten camels and keep doing that until god is satisfied with the number of camels to be sacrificed in the boy's place. When that happens, the camels' arrow will be chosen, your god will be appeased, and your son will be safe.”
Happy with the sage advice of the priestess, the men returned to Mecca and told everyone about the priestess’ solution to Abd Al-Muttalib’s quandary.
The elders of Mecca were greatly relieved by this turn of events. They gathered round Abd Al-Muttalib and told him encouragingly, “Follow the example of your ancestor Ibrahim when he was going to sacrifice his son Ismael. As an elder of his descendants it is seemly for you to do as he did and sacrifice an animal in place of your son.”
The next morning Abd Al-Muttalib took his son, Abdullah, and ten camels to the Ka'aba. Once he arrived, he found all of Mecca waiting there, eager to see how things would turn out.
Abd Al-Muttalib prepared and marked the arrows, placed them in a bag, closed his eyes and chose one. The arrow was the one marked for Abdullah. So the camels to be sacrificed became twenty and Abd Al-Muttalib tried again. Thirty camels to be sacrificed and Abd Al-Muttalib tried again. Forty camels to be sacrificed and Abd Al-Muttalib tried again. Again and again and again, Abd Al-Muttalib chose an arrow. Each and every time it was Abdullah's arrow that was pulled from the bag.
Abd Al-Muttalib began to fear that this was god's way of forcing him to sacrifice Abdullah. Perhaps, he thought uneasily, god would settle for nothing less than the life of his son.
Shaking off these dark thoughts, Abd Al-Muttalib tried again. Ninety camels were to be sacrificed and Abd Al-Muttalib reached with shaking hands to try again. One hundred camels were to be sacrificed. Praying quietly and swallowing his growing fear and desperation, Abd Al-Muttalib chose another arrow.
The arrow chosen was marked for the camels! Abdullah whooped with joy and all the people surrounding Abd Al-Muttalib began to cheer and call out, “God is satisfied and your son is safe, Abd Al-Muttalib!”
“No!” Abd Al-Muttalib said sternly, shocking and silencing the jubilant crowd. “I will not be sure of that until the camels' arrow is chosen thrice.”
Everyone stared as Abd Al-Muttalib quietly chose another arrow from the bag. The camels' arrow! Abd Al-Muttalib chose for the third time, finally allowing hope to dawn in his heart. The camels' arrow was chosen again! God truly was satisfied! One hundred camels would be sacrificed in place of his son! Abdullah was safe!!
Abd Al-Muttalib closed his eyes and thanked god quietly and fervently as the people around him cheered and called out their congratulations.
Without stopping to celebrate, Abd Al-Muttalib went to choose the one hundred camels he was going to sacrifice in Abdullah's place. He chose the most beautiful, strong and healthy of all the camels in his herds. Then he drove them to the Ka'aba and one by one, sacrificed them to god.
Once the camel meat was made available to all those who wished to partake of it, Abd Al-Muttalib allowed all of the feelings he had held in check to finally wash over him. Trembling with joy and relief, Abd Al-Muttalib gathered his ten sons together, and walked proudly home with them while soft prayers of gratitude fell from his lips.
Chapter 6: Ghaelan bin Salamah - Diplomacy and Flattery
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
In the middle of an Arabian desert, where a great Qurashi caravan weighted down with many precious goods was making its ponderous way north. The merchants, led by a man named Abu Sufyan, were eager to make as much profit as humanly possible. To that end, they were travelling to distant lands in the north where they rarely ventured.
Several weeks into their journey, Abu Sufyan took aside his fellow merchants and in low tones informed them that they had come across the lands of the powerful Persian king, Kisra.
“He has not given us leave to cross his lands and we did not set out to trade here,” Abu Sufyan said, “But since we are already here, and it is a rich kingdom, someone should take the goods in and sell them. If whoever does this is caught and killed, then we are not responsible for his death. If whoever does this manages to safely sell all the merchandise, then he gets half of whatever profit we make on this journey.”
Ghaelan bin Salamah immediately lifted his hand and said confidently, “I'll do it!”
Relieved not to be travelling further into such perilous lands, the rest of the caravan's men stayed behind while Ghaelan pushed forward alone, perhaps never to be seen again.
Ghaelan arrived in the Persian king's capital, bought the finest clothes he could find, liberally applied expensive perfumes, and then planted himself outside the palace doors. There he announced who he was to all and sundry and insistently asked to see Kisra, the king of the Persians.
Eventually, he was allowed into the palace and an interpreter was brought to speak to him. The man immediately addressed himself to Ghaelan, “The king demands to know what has brought you to his lands without his permission.”
Ghaelan replied, “Tell him, I am not his enemy and I am not a spy sent by an enemy of his. I have come and brought with me wares he may wish to see. If he likes my wares, then they are his. If he doesn't like my wares, and if he gives me his permission, then I will sell them to his people. If he does not permit me to sell them to his people, then I will leave and take all of my wares with me.”
As Ghaelan was talking, he suddenly heard a loud voice. Without hesitation, he threw himself on the floor in an attitude of abject obeisance, face pressed to the floor.
The interpreter spoke hurriedly to Ghaelan, “The king says: What made you do that?”
Ghaelan lifted his head and answered in the humblest manner he could muster, “I heard a loud voice in a place where no one would raise their voice out of their reverence for their king. So I knew the person whose voice I heard must be the king, and so I genuflected in honor of the king.”
Kisra was greatly pleased by his guest’s flattery. As a reward, he gave his permission for Ghaelan to come and sit before him and he ordered a cushion be brought for Ghaelan’s comfort.
Once the cushion was presented to Ghaelan, he glanced down at it and beheld a picture of Kisra embroidered on it. Unblushingly, Ghaelan placed the cushion atop his head.
Kisra could not help but curl his lip in disdain at Ghaelan’s apparent foolishness and ignorance.
“Tell him,” the king said scornfully to his interpreter, “that we have given him the cushion to sit on.”
The interpreter relayed the king's disapproving words to Ghaelan whereupon the diplomatic young man replied with a beaming smile, “I know, but when I saw that it had a picture of the king upon it, I realized that one such as I did not have the right to sit on it, but must instead treat it with reverence. So I placed it atop my head, the most noble and valued part of my being.”
Flattered and amused, Kisra again smiled benevolently on his silver-tongued visitor.
“Do you have children?” inquired the king conversationally.
“Yes,” replied Ghaelan.
“Which of them is your favorite?” the king continued.
“The young until he grows up, the ill until he recovers, the absent until he returns,” Ghaelan said thoughtfully.
“Hmm,” Kisra mused, “It is your luck that has brought you here to me and made you say and do what you did. Your words and actions are those of a wise man, yet you are from a rough people who lack wisdom. What is your daily diet?”
“Wheat bread,” the king's visitor declared with equanimity.
“Then your wisdom must come from the wheat you consume, not from milk and dates,” concluded Kisra with a satisfied nod.
The king then ordered that all of the goods Ghaelan had brought with him be bought at many times their value. He also had Ghaelan fitted out with the best clothes a kingly purse could buy.
After some time spent as Kisra's honored guest, Ghaelan took his leave and set out on his journey home, guarded by a grand delegation Kisra sent to accompany him. Ghaelan soon met up with Abu Sufyan and the other merchants who were pleasantly surprised by his safe return, and thoroughly delighted by the wealth he brought with him.
Months later, when Ghaelan reached his hometown of Taif, the Persian delegation built a beautiful palace for him because of the lasting impression his diplomatic words had made on Kisra, the king of the Persians.
Chapter 7: Abu Sufyan and Heraclius - Questions and Predictions
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Where the Roman (Byzantine) Emperor Heraclius awoke heavy eyed and depressed. Those around the emperor quickly noticed his low spirits, but it was only the priests who were bold enough to inquire after the emperor's dark mood.
Heraclius, an accomplished astrologer, replied to their solicitous questions by saying heavily, “Last night, as I gazed at the stars, I saw that the king of those who practice circumcision has arrived. Who of our people practices circumcision?”
“No one, except the Israelites,” the priests said, “Do not fear them. Simply write to the governors of your cities and have them kill all the Israelites within their walls.”
As the men discussed this horrific and bloody plan, a messenger sent by the king of Ghassan arrived. After listening distractedly to the message, Heraclius ordered his men to check the messenger to see if he had been circumcised. The emperor’s men hurriedly obeyed. When they returned, they informed the emperor that the messenger had indeed been circumcised.
Setting aside his murderous plans, Heraclius questioned the discomfited messenger further about the Arabs, “Do they, too, practice circumcision?”
The bewildered messenger replied that they did.
“Then the king of that nation has arrived,” the emperor declared in a quiet voice.
That very day, Heraclius sat down and wrote a long letter to a friend in Rumia (Rome) who was his equal in both skill and learning. He then sent the letter on its way via the fastest of his messengers and resignedly prepared himself for a long wait.
Day after day, the Emperor grew more impatient and his moods grew darker as he waited for a reply. When he finally received the long-awaited letter, Heraclius eagerly opened it and found that his friend agreed with him about the emergence of the leader of the Arabs, and that he was a prophet sent by God.
Without delay, Heraclius gathered his most influential courtiers together in the audience room of his palace and had the doors locked and guarded. Then he stood and addressed them in a firm voice, “O' Roman (Byzantine) People, do you wish for success and wisdom, and that your wealth and power should endure? Then swear allegiance to this new prophet of God!”
No sooner did the emperor finish speaking than the people in the room cried out and fled in a panic towards the doors, only to find them securely locked and heavily guarded.
Heraclius looked upon their horror, and he despaired of them ever believing him or following this new prophet of God. So he ordered his impassive guards to drive the people back towards him, which they speedily did.
“I said what I did,” Heraclius said soothingly to his frightened nobles, “Only to test you, and your convictions. Now, I know the strength of your convictions.”
Reassured by Heraclius' words, the relieved people knelt before their sad and disappointed Emperor.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Sometime later in Al-Shaam, a caravan of Arabian merchants, including a man named Abu Sufyan, were busily going about their business when they were approached by a messenger from Heraclius, the ruler of the Roman (Byzantine) Empire. The messenger told the surprised men that they had been summoned to speak to the emperor and must accompany him.
The Arabian merchants felt terribly apprehensive as they were swiftly escorted to the palace and brought before the emperor. Heraclius sat, surrounded by his most powerful courtiers, and stared at the men standing uncomfortably before him. Using an interpreter, the emperor finally began speaking to his guests.
“Which of you is the most closely related to this man who claims he is a prophet?” Heraclius asked as he examined the faces of the Arabian merchants.
Fearing the consequences of his words but unwilling to lie, Abu Sufyan quietly replied, “I am.”
“Bring him closer,” the emperor instructed his guards. “And allow his companions to stand behind him.”
Once Abu Sufyan stood directly before him, the emperor again addressed his translator, “Tell his companions that I will ask him about this man who claims he is a prophet and, if he lies they must tell me he is lying.”
Embarrassed by the emperor's instructions to his companions, Abu Sufyan decided not to lie even if the truth cost him his life, and he sincerely feared that it would.
“Of what standing, amongst you, is the family of the man who claims he is a prophet?” Heraclius asked as he stared unblinkingly at Abu Sufyan.
“His family is an honorable one, with a good name,” Abu Sufyan said, not at all disturbed by the emperor’s intent gaze.
“Have any of your people ever claimed what he has claimed?” the emperor asked in a quieter voice.
“No,” replied Abu Sufyan, deciding to keep his answers simple.
“Were any of his ancestors kings?” the emperor continued.
“No,” replied Abu Sufyan again.
“Who believes in, and has followed this man?” Heraclius pressed Abu Sufyan, “The weak or the powerful?”
“The weak,” replied Abu Sufyan, hoping this would count against his famous relative.
“Are his followers increasing in number or decreasing in number?” the emperor queried.
“Increasing,” Abu Sufyan reluctantly admitted.
“Do any of them quit his faith out of anger for what it entails?” continued the emperor, tilting his head and weighing Abu Sufyan’s words carefully.
“No,” replied Abu Sufyan calmly.
“Did anyone ever accuse him of lying before he claimed he was a prophet?” Heraclius demanded.
“No,” Abu Sufyan said.
“Is he untrustworthy?” the emperor demanded, “Is he a betrayer?”
“No,” replied Abu Sufyan and he watched as the emperor’s face become pensive and thoughtful. In the hopes of saying something at least a little bit negative, Abu Sufyan quickly volunteered, “There is currently a truce between us but we do not know what he will do with it.”
“Have you fought him?” the emperor asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes,” Abu Sufyan declared proudly.
“How did the battles go?” Heraclius said as he leaned forward and resumed staring at the merchant before him.
“It has been a stalemate. We injure them and they injure us,” Abu Sufyan murmured abashedly.
“What has he instructed you to do?” the emperor prompted.
“He told us we must worship only God, and to abandon the idols our forebears have always worshipped, and he told us we must pray and be truthful and chaste, and to acknowledge and care for our relatives,” Abu Sufyan enumerated briefly.
There followed a moment of deep silence, during which Heraclius seemed lost in thought. The emperor eventually roused himself and again addressed Abu Sufyan through his interpreter.
“I asked you about his family and you tell me he is of a good family, thus it always is with prophets, they are chosen from amongst the good and honorable families of their people.” Heraclius explained, “I asked you if anyone else had claimed what he claimed and you told me: no. I said to myself that if anyone else had claimed what he had, then he was just an imitator of no consequence. I asked you if any of his ancestors was a king and you told me: no. I told myself that if one of his ancestors was a king, then he is merely a man trying to regain his ancestor's throne.”
“I asked you if anyone had accused him of lying before he claimed he was a prophet, and you told me: no. I know that a person who would not lie to, or about people would certainly not lie about God,” Heraclius continued, speaking almost to himself, “I asked you if the weak or the powerful follow him and you told me: the weak. It is always the weak who first follow the prophets. I asked you if his followers increase in number or decrease, and you told me they increase. It is always thus with faith, the number of believers increase until it is complete.”
“I asked you if anyone quits his faith out of anger and you told me: no. It is always thus with faith once it enters a heart, it gladdens it and mixes with it.” Heraclius further clarified, “I asked you if he was a betrayer and you told me: no. Thus it is with prophets, they never betray. I asked you what he instructed you to do, and you told me he instructed you to worship only God and to forsake worshipping idols, and that he tells you to pray and be truthful and chaste.”
“If what you say is true,” Heraclius said as he stood and looked directly into Abu Sufyan’s eyes, “Then he will come to be master of the very land upon which my feet rest. I knew that he was to be sent by God soon, but I did not think he would be of your people. If I knew I could reach him now, then I would go to him, and if I were in his presence then I would gladly wash his feet.”
The emperor then sent for a message he had received from the very man he had been quizzing Abu Sufyan about. While Heraclius read the message aloud to his court, there was complete silence.
As his last ringing word died away, voices rose on every side, arguments broke out and the pampered courtiers began shouting at one another. Not wishing for outsiders to witness the chaos, Heraclius had the men from the Arabian caravan dismissed while he tended to his divided court.
Once they were all standing safely outside the palace gates, Abu Sufyan turned to his companions and said wonderingly, “The matter of Muhammad has become such that the king of Bani Al-Asfar (the Sons of the Yellow i.e. the Romans/Byzantines) fears him.”
Shaking their heads in wonder, the Arabian merchants returned to their business while the Emperor and his courtiers argued all day and deep into the night.
Chapter 8: Hajib bin Zura'rah - Hajib's Bow
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Somewhere in the vast deserts of Arabia where the tribe of Mudar lived the free and difficult life of wandering nomads. One year, their lives became more difficult than free. The seasonal rains didn't fall, the desert didn't become green with grass, and the cattle had nothing to graze upon. As a result, both the people of Mudar and their cattle grew thin and hollow-eyed from hunger.
The next year brought more droughts. The year after that, still no rain fell and more lean years followed one upon another. Seven long years of unabated hunger and misery rolled by with no end in sight. During those years, Hajib bin Zura'rah watched his people suffer until finally, he could take no more.
Hajib gathered together his kinsmen, Banu Zura'rah, and addressed them thus, “I have decided to approach the (Persian) king and ask his permission for our people to live on the outskirts of his kingdom, so that we may make what living we can there.”
The gathered people reacted to Hajib's declaration with shock and disbelief. The very idea of breaking off from the rest of the tribe of Mudar and going their own way appalled Hajib's kinsmen. Most of Banu Zura'rah couldn't even imagine life without the security and support of the rest of the tribe.
What would they do if they ran out of food? There would be no one there to keep them from starvation. What would they do if they were attacked? No one would stand and fight with them. What if some terrible calamity befell them? There would be no one nearby to save them. They could all just wander into the desert and quietly perish there. It was madness!
Hajib spoke patiently to his wary kinsmen, addressing their concerns and pointing out that any and all calamities had already befallen them. They were already starving, they were constantly warring with neighboring tribes over the area's scant resources, and there was no calamity worse than the endless drought they suffered from. Finally, Hajib declared impatiently that he would rather perish on the way to a better life than stay and do nothing while he and his family slowly starved to death.
In the end, his audience's hungry bellies carried the day. They did, however, still have one reservation, “Your idea is good, but we fear the Bakr bin Wa'il tribe's reaction when we pass through their territory. Especially after what has happened between our tribes over the years. There's no avoiding them, we will have to resupply from their wells.”
Hajib replied confidently, “There is no person, high or low, of that tribe that does not owe me a favor...except for Ibn Al-Taweela Al-Taymee.” Hajib paused briefly and then waved his hand dismissively, “I will speak with him and we will come to an agreement.”
Comforted by Hajib’s show of confidence, Banu Zura’rah packed their meager possessions, gathered what remained of their gaunt cattle, and set out. They knew that they were travelling towards the land of a king who would probably turn them away, regardless of their empty bellies. But what alternative did they really have? None really, so they put their lives in Hajib’s hands and bravely followed him into the desert towards a land they had never seen before.
Along the way, Banu Zura'rah were happy to see ample evidence of Hajib's vaunted good relationships with the various tribes they passed. Everywhere they went they were made welcome, and when it was time to go, they were sent on their way with fresh water and ample provisions.
Eventually, they came across the lands of the Bakr tribe where they were greeted cordially. The weary travelers were allowed to refill their water skins and were fed and feasted generously whenever they stopped to rest. As their journey progressed, Hajib's people grew more and more optimistic about their future.
Then one dark night, they arrived at Quswan where Ibn Al-Taweela Al-Taymee and his people lived. Hajib and his clan set up their tents not far from the home of Ibn Al-Taweela and they quietly settled down for a night of rest. Early the next day, Hajib took a platter and poured what food he had onto it, which consisted mostly of dried dates. He then called out in a loud and cheerful voice inviting everyone to join him for a meal.
Ibn Al-Taweela was going about his business when he heard someone calling out an invitation for everyone to come and partake of his food. He hurried to investigate and saw that it was Hajib bin Zura'rah who spoke. Ibn Al-Taweela hesitated briefly before saying to his people, “Accept the invitation. He is a leader of his people.”
Eagerly, the members of both tribes sat down together and enjoyed the simple food Hajib had provided. Ibn Al-Taweela tactfully gave Hajib gifts of grain from his stores and cattle from his herds. In turn, Hajib used the gifts he received to feed his numerous guests.
After a few days spent peaceably with Ibn Al-Taweela and his clan, Hajib deemed it time for his own people to move on. As generous and welcoming as Ibn Al-Taweela and his tribe had proven, it was nevertheless unthinkable to burden them much longer with so many extra mouths to feed. So Hajib gratefully thanked his hosts for their hospitality and firmly announced that it was time to go.
Ibn Al-Taweela tried to persuade Hajib and his people to stay a little longer but eventually he realized that Hajib was determined to press on and could not be dissuaded. He then offered to travel with Hajib and his clan in order to see them safely to Kisra's kingdom but Hajib politely refused his host’s kind offer. Hajib confidently told Ibn Al-Taweela that there was no one he feared between his people and the kingdom that was their destination.
The next morning, Hajib and Banu Zura'rah gathered their belongings, packed away the provisions their hosts had prepared for them, and once again set out on their journey. It wasn't long before they entered Kisra's kingdom whereupon they petitioned the king for an audience and were eventually granted one.
Hajib stood regally before Kisra and eloquently told him of the hunger and deprivation his people had suffered from for so many years. Then Hajib asked the king to allow him and his people to live on the outskirts of the Persian kingdom, to make what living there that they could.
Kisra listened with displeasure to what Hajib had to say then he disdainfully replied, “You, the Arabs, are troublemakers. If I gave your people permission to live on the outskirts of my kingdom, you would cause trouble and raid my people.”
Hajib pondered the king's stinging words as he carefully kept a neutral look on his face. Finally, he said in a steady voice, “I promise that my people will not cause any trouble.”
“What guarantee do I have that you will keep this promise?” Kisra challenged him.
“I will give you my bow as a guarantee that I will keep my promise,” Hajib replied with proud dignity. Hajib then sent a member of his tribe to retrieve his most prized bow. The man left quickly and returned carefully carrying his leader's bow.
When Kisra's wealthy, well-fed courtiers saw the simple bow, they all burst into peals of mocking laughter and exclaimed, “With this stick you guarantee your promise to the king?!”
In stark contrast to his courtiers, Kisra sat quietly and looked at the bow. Hajib had given up his independence so he could lead his kinsmen on a journey across many lands, come to a foreign kingdom, humbled himself by asking for this boon from a king who insulted him, and then offered to guarantee the good behavior of all of his people by surrendering his bow, thereby divesting himself of his status as a warrior. And he had done all of this because he could not stand idly by while his people suffered.
Kisra could not think of another man who would sacrifice his very identity for the good of his people and he felt terribly abashed by his court’s reaction. In cutting tones, Kisra spoke to his tittering courtiers, “He would not have surrendered his bow for just anything!!”
The courtiers grew silent and their laughter died instantly when they saw their king's displeasure. Satisfied by the effect of his words, Kisra had one of his attendants take possession of the bow and he gave his permission for Hajib and his kinsmen to live in the countryside along the outskirts of the Persian kingdom.
History records that Hajib's kinsmen, Banu Zura'rah, lived for quite some time on the borders of Kisra's kingdom. Eventually, Hajib grew old and, after living a full life, he passed away. Around the same time, the drought afflicting the lands of the tribe of Mudar finally broke. The cooling rains were falling again, healing the parched land and filling the once-empty wells with pure, fresh water. With both these events in mind, Hajib's kinsmen decided it was time for them to return to their ancestral lands.
Once all their preparations were complete, Hajib's son, Utarid bin Hajib, went to see Kisra in order to reclaim his father's bow. As Utarid stood before Kisra and asked for the return of the bow, Kisra looked at him meditatively and said, “You are not the one who left it with me.”
“It is true, O' King,” Utarid replied calmly, “I am not he.”
“What happened to the one who left the bow with me?” Kisra demanded impatiently.
“He died,” Utarid said bluntly. Then he added proudly, “And he was my father and he kept his promise to you, O' King, when he guaranteed that our people would not cause your people any trouble.”
For a moment, Kisra gazed sadly at the young man who was so like his dead father, both in face and manner. Then he roused himself from his reverie and ordered his attendants to turn over the sturdy bow to Hajib's son. He also gave the youth several rich gifts and wished him and his people well on their long journey home. Utarid politely accepted Kisra's gifts and, with a respectful nod, took his leave.
Some months later, having traveled many long and weary roads, Banu Zura'rah finally arrived back in the deserts, hills and mountains where their people had lived for so many centuries. At long last, they were home, and there they would stay for many centuries to come.
Chapter 9: Abu Al-Qassim Al-Tanbouri - Madas and Mistakes
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Called Baghdad where a man named Abu Al-Qassim Al-Tanbouri lived. He was a well-known merchant and a friendly man but, like all men, he had his failings. The most obvious of which was that he would not replace his old madas (leather sandals) no matter how badly they needed replacing.
Whenever a piece of his madas wore out or fell off, Abu Al-Qassim would have that piece replaced with whatever bit of leather was at hand. Eventually there was nothing left of the original madas and what Abu Al-Qassim wore on each of his feet was a vaguely madas-shaped hodgepodge of leather which was both ugly and very, very heavy.
Strange though the madas looked, Abu Al-Qassim never really had any trouble with them until one day...
Abu Al-Qassim was walking through the glassware market in Baghdad when a fellow merchant stopped him and said in low tones, “O' Abu Al-Qassim, a merchant from Halab arrived today and he has gold-chased glassware that no one is buying. Buy it from him now, and I will sell it for you later when it is more in demand. That way, you will get double your investment back!”
Liking this plan very much indeed, Abu Al-Qassim eagerly went to see the merchant from Halab and purchased all of the gold-chased glassware he had for sixty dinars.
Thinking cheerfully about his future gains, Abu Al-Qassim continued his walk, which happened to take him through the perfume marketplace. As he strolled along, he was stopped by another of his merchant friends who said, “O' Abu Al-Qassim, a merchant from Nasibeen arrived today and he has rosewater for sale. He is pressed for time, and wishes to sell what he has in order to continue his journey. You could get a very good price for his merchandise. Buy it from him now, and I will sell it for you later for a better price. Then, you will get double your investment back!”
Equally pleased by this plan, Abu Al-Qassim sought out the Nasibeen merchant and bought all of his stock of rosewater for sixty dinars. Abu Al-Qassim then happily took his newly acquired merchandise home and carefully arranged all the glassware on his shelves and placed all the rosewater in the gold-chased glassware. For a moment, he just stood there and admired the beautiful display, lost in thoughts of soon-to-be earned riches.
With a smile, Abu Al-Qassim turned away from his shelves and decided that since his day’s business had been concluded so satisfactorily, he would go to the public bathhouse and take a long, luxurious bath. Upon arriving at the bathhouse, he proceeded to take off his madas at the door as was customary.
Just as he was about to step into the bathhouse, a friend of his called out behind him, “O' Abu Al-Qassim, I wish you would change those madas of yours! They're extremely ugly! And you have money, by the grace of God!”
Abu Al-Qassim hesitated on the threshold of the bathhouse as he thought about his friend's words. What the man said made sense; he should buy a new pair of madas. The merchandise he bought that very day promised to provide him with a small fortune once sold. Soon, he would be able to buy a dozen new pairs of madas if he wished.
Coming to a decision, Abu Al-Qassim called back playfully to his friend, “You're right! Suma'an wa ta'ah (I hear and obey)!”
With a smile, Abu Al-Qassim went into the bathhouse and had his bath. Afterward, he stepped out to find a pair of shiny new madas next to his old hodgepodge pair. Assuming his friend had generously bought him new madas, Abu Al-Qassim happily stepped into the new pair and made his way home, congratulating himself all the while on what a truly good day it had been.
Unfortunately for Abu Al-Qassim, the lovely new madas were not meant as a gift for him. They belonged to the local judge who had gone for a bath and come out to find his new madas gone.
The displeased judge searched high and low for his missing footwear then concluded that his madas had been stolen and a pair of truly ugly, patched madas had been left in their place. Someone helpfully identified the distinctive madas as belonging to Abu Al-Qassim, whereupon the judge ordered his men to bring the madas thief before him.
Abu Al-Qassim was immediately arrested and dragged before the angry judge, where he found that there was nothing he could say to appease the owner of the shiny new madas he had accidentally taken. The resentful judge didn't believe that the theft was really just a terrible misunderstanding, so he had Abu Al-Qassim jailed, beaten and fined for his thievery.
After Abu Al-Qassim got out of prison, he railed at his ugly madas, which had been conscientiously returned to him by the judge's men. If not for the accursed madas, Abu Al-Qassim thought angrily, he would not have gotten into so much trouble with the short-tempered judge. Deciding to rid himself of the offending madas, Abu Al-Qassim took them and threw them into the Dajla (Tigris) river. He then went home, feeling very sad and depressed indeed.
Later that same day, a fisherman pulled the madas out of the river in his fishing net. The unique madas were easily identifiable as belonging to Abu Al-Qassim, so the honest fisherman made his way to the merchant’s house. When he arrived, he was dismayed to find that there was no one home.
The fisherman stood there for a moment, wondering indecisively if he should wait, or leave and come back later. As he hesitated, he noticed that one of Abu Al-Qassim’s windows had been left open. Feeling both relieved and virtuous, the fisherman tossed the madas into Abu Al-Qassim's house then he went merrily on his way, secure in the knowledge that he had done a good deed.
Unfortunately for Abu Al-Qassim, the madas hit the shelves containing the glassware and rosewater. Because the madas were so very heavy, they dislodged the shelves and sent both glassware and rosewater plummeting to the hard, unyielding ground.
In the evening, Abu Al-Qassim came home, opened his door and saw his madas lying in the middle of the shattered remains of the expensive gold-chased glassware. By then all the rosewater had evaporated, but the rich scent of roses lingered in the air, tormenting Abu Al-Qassim and reminding him of the hefty investments he had made and the profits he could have had…if not for his madas.
Unable to face the devastating financial losses, Abu Al-Qassim burst into tears and cried out, “I am poor! These accursed madas have made me a pauper!”
Even more determined than ever to get rid of the horrible madas, Abu Al-Qassim waited until the dead of night then he began digging a hole in the hard-packed floor of his house. He had decided to bury the madas and thus be done with them once and for all. His neighbors, hearing a mysterious digging sound in the middle of night, immediately complained to the local judge. They accused Abu Al-Qassim of trying to bring down the wall dividing their properties.
The local judge, with the theft of his new madas still fresh in his mind, was not at all surprised at such behavior from a man he personally knew to be a thief. He immediately ruled that Abu Al-Qassim was to be arrested, jailed and fined for his actions.
When Abu Al-Qassim got out of prison for the second time, he decided to try and free himself yet again from the cursed madas. This time though, he would act a little more cautiously. He went to the local sewers, instead of the river, and threw the madas in. There! he thought with satisfaction, No one fishes in the sewers! I am finally safe!
Feeling like the world was a brighter and better place already, Abu Al-Qassim happily went home and settled down to enjoy his victory over the accursed madas. His happiness was short-lived though because the judge's men came and dragged him away to court.
Apparently, Abu Al-Qassim's madas had blocked the sewers and caused them to overflow. The extremely unhappy people quickly found the source of the blockage and removed the cause of it, which they discovered to their chagrin was Abu Al-Qassim's distinctive madas. Displeased by such mischief, the people all complained loudly to the local judge.
Unsurprised by the actions of this nefarious man, the judge again ordered Abu Al-Qassim imprisoned. He also fined him the amount of money it took to repair the damage to the sewers, and fined him an additional amount as an extra punishment for his refusal to repent his criminal behavior.
When Abu Al-Qassim got out of prison for the third time, he decided that the only way to keep his madas from getting him into more trouble was to never part from them. So he washed them and thoroughly cleaned them, and then he put them on the roof of his house to dry.
As the madas lay drying innocently in the sun, a stray dog spied them and was tempted by the sight of them and the damp leathery smell of them. After some effort and a few failed attempts, the mischievous dog managed to clamber up onto the low roof of Abu Al-Qassim's house and eagerly went to investigate the madas.
Carrying its prizes gleefully in its mouth, the dog proudly began parading around the roof. Unfortunately, as the dog trotted by the side of the roof, one of the madas slipped from its mouth and fell, landing on the head of a passerby. Stunned and bleeding, the man looked around and found a single madas lying in the road, a unique madas that was easily identifiable as belonging to Abu Al-Qassim.
The man angrily went and complained to the local judge, who by then had despaired of Abu Al-Qassim ever behaving himself. He simply ordered Abu Al-Qassim to pay for the injured man's care and pay a fine in exchange for the pain and trouble he had caused.
Paying for the injured man's medical care, not to mention the extra fine, made Abu Al-Qassim well and truly broke. He had not a single dinar to his name. Not long ago, he had been a fairly well-to-do merchant, now he was a poor man who kept going to jail because of his hodgepodge madas.
After all of the trouble his accursed madas had given him, and all the unpleasant encounters with the judge, Abu Al-Qassim was feeling truly desperate. He would give anything, anything at all, to never see his madas, or that vindictive judge, ever again! But what could he do?! Every time he tried to get rid of the madas, or even to keep them, they somehow got him into more trouble!
Finally, an idea struck Abu Al-Qassim. He knew how he could get rid of his madas!!
“Your honor,” Abu Al-Qassim said to his nemesis, the judge, “I wish for you to write a legally binding document severing the relationship between myself and those accursed madas, and declaring that they do not belong to me and I do not belong to them! We are each innocent of the doings of the other, and whatever the madas do, I am not responsible for it!”
The bemused judge asked Abu Al-Qassim a few questions and then finally listened to his story with an open mind. As Abu Al-Qassim told his tale of woe, he was practically in tears. The judge began wondering if perhaps he had misjudged the man. Once the story was finally told, the judge could not help but laugh and laugh and laugh. To think, a pair of ugly madas could get this hapless man into so much trouble!
That very day, the judge ruled that Abu Al-Qassim was free of his madas, now and forevermore. The judge even had his men announce it to the people of Baghdad. Finally free, Abu Al-Qassim left his madas with the judge and, happily, never saw either ever again.
Chapter 10: Three Nimble Minds - The Power of Words
Kaan Ya Makaan, Fee Qadeem Al-Zamaan…
There was a Place, in Times of Old…
Where a young man, named Amr bin Mu'id Yakrib, put on his armor, picked up his weapons, mounted his horse and rode out looking for a duel. On that bright and sunny morning, Amr was eager to secure a reputation for himself as a fearsome warrior, so he decided to pick a fight with the first knight he came across.
As Amr rode along, he spied a tethered horse pacing regally while it waited impatiently for its master. Beside the horse was a great spear, and not far from both horse and spear stood a knight answering the call of nature.
“Beware!” Amr called boldly to the knight, “I have come to kill you!”
“And who you are?” the startled knight replied.
“I am Amr bin Mu'id Yakrib!” the young warrior said, preening and puffing up his chest in an attempt to look both imposing and fearsome.
“O' Father of a Bull,” the knight replied, not at all impressed by the youth's posturing and puffing, “You are not being chivalrous. You are astride your horse and I am here on the ground. Give me your word that you will not kill me until I mount my horse and am prepared to face you.”
Amr was eager to gain a reputation as a great warrior, not as a cowardly murderer, so he readily swore not to harm the knight until he had mounted his respective horse, and was prepared to face him.
Upon receiving Amr's oath, the knight unhurriedly buckled on his sword, walked up to his horse and...sat down on the ground.
Stunned and confused, Amr demanded angrily, “What is this?!”
“I am not going to mount my horse,” the knight replied coolly to the hot-headed young man, “and I am not going to fight you. Whether you are the kind of man who breaks his oath or not, you would know that better than I, so do as you wish.”
Stymied and frustrated, Amr looked around while he tried to think of a way he could force the knight to face him without violating the oath he had so rashly taken.
After some hesitation and a great deal of frustrated pacing, Amr realized he had been outmaneuvered by the knight who had so cleverly used words as his weapons. Finally conceding defeat to the seated knight, Amr rode away, a wiser and more thoughtful man.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
One day, in the town of Al-Kufa, a woman lost her patience with her husband's sluggardly ways and exasperatedly suggested a course of action to him, “Why don't you go travelling and see if you can find some way to make a living?!”
Displeased by his wife's nagging, the man packed his bags and took to the road, hoping to earn a respectable amount of money one way or another.
Eventually, he managed to earn three hundred dirhams while he was in Al-Shaam. With such a tidy sum in his possession he decided to return to his wife, secure in the knowledge that he would be greeted with approval and pride.
On his way home, the man met a merchant who had a camel for sale. Dazzled by the beauty and strength of the animal, the man happily handed over his three hundred dirhams in return for the magnificent creature.
As the man travelled onwards, he discovered to his dismay that the camel was wild and unmanageable. It fought him as though he were its worst enemy, and relentlessly gave him trouble at every turn.
In a burst of pique and anger, the man roared at the camel, “I swear by God, as soon as I reach Al-Kufa, I will sell you for a single dirham!”
Finally reaching Al-Kufa, the man was greeted lovingly by his wife who looked over the beautiful camel with clear approval. Great was the man's embarrassment when he told his wife of the unbreakable oath he had sworn and that he would have to sell the camel for a single dirham.
“That is a problem that is easily fixed,” his wife said, laying a comforting hand on her husband's arm.
She turned and disappeared into their house, then came out carrying a small cage that contained a tiny bird. Carefully she hung the cage around the camel's neck and then turned back to her husband.
Grinning confidently, she said, “Take the camel to the marketplace and call out: This bird is for sale for three hundred dirhams and the camel is for sale for a single dirham, but they must be sold together!”
Without delay, the man took the camel and the bird to the marketplace and called out what his wife had told him to say.
Almost immediately, a Bedouin man came and looked over both camel and bird, saying softly as he circled the lovely camel, “Such a beauty! So magnificent! If only you did not have that bird around your neck!”
That afternoon, the man returned home to his wife carrying a light heart in his chest and three hundred and one dirhams in his pocket.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
A man of the desert once stayed as a guest of a man of the city. The city man had a wife, two daughters and two sons. He was also the proud owner of many chickens.
The city man graciously received his guest and asked his wife to roast one of their numerous chickens, so that they may have a fine lunch to offer their guest from the desert.
When it was time for lunch, the family sat down with their guest and prepared to eat. Wishing to be polite, and to have a little fun at his guest's expense, the city man pushed the roasted chicken towards the desert man and requested that he divide the chicken between all those present.
“I am not very good at dividing,” the guest demurred, “but if you are willing to accept my method of dividing the chicken, then I will do so.”
Without further urging, the desert man took the roasted chicken and cut off the chicken's head and presented it to his host, saying playfully, “The head, for the head of the family.”
Then the he sliced off the chicken's wings and gave a wing to each of his host's two sons saying, “The wings for the sons.”
“The legs for the daughters,” the desert man continued as he sliced off the chicken's legs and served them to each of his host's daughters.
The guest then carefully sliced off the very back end of the chicken from which its tail grew, and placed it before his host's bemused wife, “The tail for the tail (other side) of the family.”
“And,” said the desert man with a cheeky grin as he placed the body of the chicken before himself, “the remains for the guest.”
Amused and diverted, the family politely ate their lunch as their guest hungrily ate the “remains” of the chicken.
The next day, the man asked his wife to roast five chickens and serve them for lunch. He knew that his guest, who lived a life of hardship in the desert, would be hard pressed to fairly divide the savory chickens. It would be entertaining to see how the Bedouin man would oh-so-innocently give himself the lion's share of the meal again.
Around noon, the family and their guest gathered again for an appetizing lunch of roast chicken. The host, still amused by the events of their previous lunch, again asked his guest to divide the chickens amongst those present.
“I think,” the desert man said in mock contrition, “That you found fault with my method of division yesterday.”
“Not at all,” the host exclaimed with merriment dancing in his eyes, “Please, honor us by dividing the chickens again today.”
“Shall I make the division using odds or evens?” the guest asked his host innocently.
“Odds,” the host replied, intrigued.
“Well, then,” the Bedouin man said, firmly laying hold of a roast chicken and placing it before his host and hostess, “You and your wife and a chicken, that's three, that's an odd number.”
“Your two sons and a chicken,” continued the guest, placing a chicken in front of the two boys, “That's three.”
Laying a chicken before his host's two daughters, the guest said, “Your two daughters and a chicken, that's three.”
“Then myself and two chickens, that's three,” the desert man finished triumphantly as he placed two chickens in front of himself.
The host and his family looked with dismay at the two roasted chickens lying before their guest, so the Bedouin man said, “Why do you stare so? Perhaps you dislike my method of dividing the chickens? It is the only way to divide them using odd numbers.”
“Then divide them using even numbers,” the city man challenged his guest.
With a smile and a nod, the desert man quickly gathered all the roasted chickens together and began to divide them again.
“You and your two sons and a chicken, that's four,” the Bedouin man said as he laid a chicken before his host.
“Your wife and her two daughters and a chicken, that's four,” the guest said, politely placing a roast chicken before the lady of the house and her two daughters.
“And myself and three chickens, that's four!” The guest said triumphantly as he placed three chickens in front of himself. “Thank God you made me understand how best to divide the chickens!”
Amused, and well aware of how rarely their guest had roast chicken for lunch, the polite host and his family sat and ate their two roasted chickens as their guest hungrily decimated his three.
Sources
Al-Bayhaqi, Ibrahim bin Muhammad. (2011 AD, 1432 H). Al-Mahasin wa Al-Masawii [Merits and Faults]. Beirut: Al-Maktaba Al-Assrya. Book 1. Page 124-125.
Al-Bukhari, M. (2004 AD, 1424 H). Sahih Al-Bukhari [Sahih Al-Bukhari]. Beirut: Al-Maktaba Al-Assrya. Page 793-795.
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Az-Zubaidi, Zain-ud-Din (1994 AD). Mukhtasar Sahih Al-Bukhari [Summarized Sahih Al-Bukhari (M. Khan, Trans.)]. Riyadh: Maktaba Dar-us-Salam. Page 53-58.
Ibn Al-Jawzi, Jamal Al-Deen. (2011 AD, 1432 H). Al-Azkiya [The Clever]. Beirut: Dar Al-Kitab Al-Arabi. Page 73, 85, 75.
Ibrahim, M., Al-Mowla, M., Al-Bajawi, A. (2011 AD, 1432 H). Qisus Al-Arab [Stories of the Arabs]. Beirut: Al-Maktaba Al-Assrya. Volume 1. Page 126-127, 123-125, 63-65, 16-17, 9-10. Volume 4. Page 294-296.
Langer, William L. (1980). An Encyclopedia of World History. 5th Edition. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company Boston. Page 140.
Wikipedia Contributors. “Khosrau II”. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 28 April 2011. Accessed 1 May 2011.
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Author’s Note
It has been a lot of fun reading up on the various people who have lived and become legends in this part of the world (the Middle East). Writing about them, and sweeping away some of the dust of time, has been both a privilege and a wonderful walk down memory lane.
I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. If you do, then please leave a good review for the book, if you don’t then try not to slam it too hard (joke!).
Since this is a self-published work and I am an indie author, I would also appreciate it if you would help spread the word about this book by recommending it to a friend, loaning it to a relative, or showing it to a co-worker. The more the merrier, right?
Thanks for reading and please don’t forget to leave a review for this book!
Sincerely,
Aisha Bilal
About the Author
Aisha Bilal is a confirmed bookworm who grew up reading all the Arabic and English books she could find. As she read about King Arthur and his Knights, she realized that most of the people who enjoyed reading those stories would probably never read about the real-life Arabian Knights.
So began her pet project, a website that tells the stories of the many Knights of Arabia.
Although there will be no flying carpets, there will be lots of great stories at: KnightsOfArabia.com and in the eBooks to come.
Currently, Aisha Bilal lives in Mecca, Saudi Arabia where she spends her days reading, writing and trying to sketch her cat. She plans to write and illustrate a children’s book about a cat and hopes to have it ready for publishing by summer.
You can find out more about the author by visiting:
The official Website: http://www.knightsofarabia.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/knightsofarabia
Twitter: https://twitter.com/knightsofarabia
Cover Preview: Arabian Knights - Volume 2