Bensalem Himmich - The Theocrat

“I praise God for granting us this victory and for making me one of the first martyrs in our cause. I have only ever wanted to fulfill the Prophet’s wishes, to fight in the cause of God; to fight, then live, then fight again and live again. I am destined to die, and your consolation must be with Shihab al-Din once you have tamed his impetuous nature, with the Zanata, the Banu Qurra, and others who will join the cause. Surround yourself with such folk and relish their sense of unity and fraternity. You are bound to achieve your goal and bequeath to future generations the best of what is past. To God we belong and to Him do we return.”

After Abu al-Mahasin had said those words, he recited the statement of faith. The two men then embraced, and with one last gasp Abu al-Mahasin was gone. For a moment Abu Rakwa stood there with tears flowing, then with bloodshot eyes he left to greet people outside. “Get some people to help you bury our dead warriors as they are,” he told Yahya. “Others should wash the body of Abu al-Mahasin and his dead comrades. God willing, we will say prayers over them.”

Following Abu al-Mahasin’s death a day or two passed. Abu Rakwa chose to stay in his tent, receiving numerous reports from his assistants. Once in a while he went out to confirm bits of information that he kept hearing about the good mood of not merely people in general but particularly his warriors; they were bursting with enthusiasm and champing at the bit for the major confrontation to come. They kept asking him over and over again about this battle, but he would always reply, “Finding patience among all of you is rarer than a mosquito’s brain! As long as you insist on adopting a weak position, you’ll never even get a date from a crow.”

“And what exactly is that weak position, God preserve you?” they asked.

“Excessive haste,” was the reply.

With that they left him alone and went on their way. “Our imam certainly knows the way things are!” they told each other by way of explanation.

In the ensuing months events piled up on one another. Abu Rakwa was not used to the pace. Every month brought with it new situations. These he pondered carefully, using them as inspiration for a whole series of recorded thoughts. One Ramadan night in A.H. 396 he was engrossed in his reading and note-taking, when a heavily armed man managed to sneak his way into his tent. He greeted the imam and sat down close by.

“Forgive me. Imam,” he said, “for visiting you in this way. When you hear why I’ve come, I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion.”

Abu Rakwa was not in the slightest bit afraid. “I trust it’s good news, young man,” he said. “But tell me first who you are and where you’re from.”

“I am ‘Ali ibn Husayn ibn Jawhar from Sicily.”

“Are you the son of al-Hakim’s chief general?”

“Yes, I am indeed, Abu Rakwa,” the young man replied, “and I am here as his emissary to you. I didn’t march to Barqa. However, I was actually there ahead of you, looking after my father’s interests and pretending to serve al-Hakim as commander of its garrison. When you entered the city victorious with your army, I hid for a few days in an underground grainstore. That gave me time to think about my and plan an escape. The day I disguised myself as a beggar and got out, I vowed to assassinate you and then escape back to Cairo.”

“How could you do that when there’s so much hatred between al-Hakim and your father? in whose interest would you be committing such a dastardly deed?”

“If I’d done any such thing — heaven forbid! — it wouldn’t have been to curry favor with al-Hakim. I loathe him just as much as everyone does. The reason would have been to eliminate all the doubts and rumors being put about by al-Hakim’s spies to the effect that my father is secretly in league with you and encouraging you to enter Egypt.”

“So what prevented you from carrying out your foul deed?”

“It was that sermon you gave. Imam! Your words hit me fresh and true; they convinced me that you are indeed the true religious leader and guide. When you finished, I left the mosque still in disguise. I was cursing myself. To kill you, I told myself, would be akin to murdering righteous people — something that is totally forbidden. I took a horse from one of my former aides and rode to the site near Cairo where my father was encamped so I could tell him about your virtuous deeds. Now here I am back again with a letter from my father, along with an attestation from his son-in-law, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz ibn Nu‘man, the chief judge. In the letter he salutes you and urges you to conquer Egypt and overthrow the tyrannical rule of al-Hakim. He promises you the support of the Sicilians and Kutamis and all other soldiers under his command.”

Abu Rakwa took the letter from his visitor and studied it carefully. “It’s late at night,” he said, “and you look very tired. Leave me with your father’s letter and choose a room for yourself to get some sleep, Tomorrow, God willing, you will attend a meeting with our warrior leaders to prepare for the conquest of Egypt. Now, ‘Ali, go in peace.”

“As you command, Abu Rakwa. Tomorrow I’ll await your command to attend the planning meeting that augurs a great future.”

The visitor left as surreptitiously as he had come in. Abu Rakwa. started to read Ibn Jawhar’s letter. Then he snuffed out the candle and went to sleep.

Early next morning (a Thursday), Abu Rakwa learned that the imprisoned commander, Yanal the Tall, had been killed by Shihab al-Din after a bitter argument. The imam immediately thought of summoning Shihab al-Din and severely reprimanding him for his action, but he decided against it. With the cause of unity and the imminence of a decisive battle in mind, he stifled his anger. However, while he was still pondering the whole matter, Shihab al-Din entered his tent, nervous and red-faced, and greeted the imam.

“No doubt you’ve heard about what happened early this morning,” he said. “My excuse for what I did to Yanal the accursed is that he would get away from us again and become another Hamad al-Madi, a thorn in our sides and a barrier to our forward advance. All I meant to do was to hobble him, but he insulted your status as imam, then spat at me twice in the face, saying: “One for you, and the other for your phony imam.” The insult was too much, and I lost my temper. I gave him a sword. For a while we parried, but then I managed to impale him in the stomach and split his head in twain. He fell to the ground drowning in his own foul blood.”

“Hamad al-Madi certainly is a thorn in our flesh,” said Abu Rakwa, trying to calm things down. “You’re right about that, Have you any idea how to crush this thorn?”

“By making sure we don’t delay our advance.”

“So we must make haste and move toward the decisive engagement. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes indeed, Abu Rakwa! At this point time is a formidable weapon in our hands. We can either make full use of it to achieve our goals, or else waste it, in which case we’ll be the ones who’ll be eliminated.”

“What about the rest of the prisoners? What do you think we should do with them?”

‘They’re all leaning toward your cause, they’d prefer to bolster our numbers rather than go back to Egypt where they’re sure to die.”

“Nevertheless release all the wounded who want to return home. Now go back to our camp and tell the shaykhs that after today’s evening prayer I shall await them in my tent. We will discuss our forthcoming battle. Don’t forget to invite Hammu and Yahya. Now go and find Shaykh Zaydan the Mazati.”

Shihab al-Din had only been gone a short while before the Mazati shaykh entered the tent to see the imam. He warmly greeted Abu Rakwa, and in return was welcomed and honored by his host. The two men sat on mats, sipping cups of green tea and chatting about a variety of issues: Sunni jurisprudence, Shi‘ism and Isma’ilism, and whether the Fatimid ruler al-Hakim could be legally anathematized. Once in a while the two men disagreed on a point. For example, the Mazati shaykh, who by inclination adhered to the Hanafi school of law, expressed his regret that Sunni Islam should be divided up into schools and sects.