Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

On the day when the army was to march (which, after delays, turned out to be the third day of Rabi’ al-Akhir), ‘Abd al-Rahman kissed his wife and daughter goodbye and hugged Sha‘ban. He asked his faithful servant to take care of the family for him. That done, he went up to the Citadel where he was warmly greeted by Yashbak. From the sultan’s personal stable he was given a splendid Maghribi mule decked with a gold-embossed saddle and jewel-encrusted bridle. Yashbak presented him to al-Nasir Faraj along with the other judges, then placed him amid the horsemen and walkers who were heading for Gaza on the seashore.

The journey from Cairo to Damascus, which took them by Shaqhab under Mount Ghabaghib, proceeded largely in silence, a quiet that was tinged with a good deal of fear and caution. The generally gloomy atmosphere kept being fed with news of the Mongol army as it made its grisly way through one region after another as far as Ba‘albakk on its way to the Mamluk fortress in Damascus.

‘Abd al-Rahman questioned Yashbak about the commanders’ strategy for the campaign against the Timurid army. He was told that it involved defense of the city; defense and nothing but defense. The plan was to make Timur give up any idea of attacking or occupying it. He explained the time factor, something that, if properly planned, would work in favor of Faraj’s army. Damascus was a fortified city impregnable to spearmen. Inside the city there were enough provisions to withstand a lengthy siege.

A war like no other! No marches, no clashes with the enemy, rank on rank; no plain where the opposing armies would encounter each other in a clash of arms and men. A war of waiting, ‘Abd al-Rahman called it, and of rapid sorties. No winners and no losers. It might well last long enough for the Mongol leader to lose patience and turn his mind to other targets. Either that, or else he might lift the siege completely and retire to his bases.

For the first few days in Damascus, ‘Abd al-Rahman devoted his attention to his students in the ‘Adiliya College where he was staying. He started teaching them classes on the four schools of Islamic jurisprudence, but had little success in keeping their minds focused on the subject. Once it became clear that they were all totally preoccupied with events inside Damascus and news about the Mongols to the exclusion of all else, he agreed to answer their numerous and varied questions about issues of jihad and present-day history. He responded to their concerns as best he could with the knowledge God had given him. The most astute students asked him about the possibility of the Egyptian army repelling the Mongol menace; why the army commanders had decided to defend only Damascus rather than other cities in Syria. They were eager to know about the fate of the Syrian people should Mamluk forces suffer a defeat and return to Egypt. ‘Abd al-Rahman’s answers all stressed the competence and bravery of the Mamluk cavalry and infantry, while at the same time suggesting that the students make preparations for all eventualities and emergencies. Needless to say, he could read in their anxious expressions all the worries and concerns of their families and relatives. For that very reason, he made a determined effort to keep his own personal opinions to himself, namely that Timur was considerably stronger than al-Nasir Faraj and his forces, and not merely because of larger numbers in terms of equipment, but also superior military acumen and tremendous group spirit. ‘Abd al-Rahman was convinced that ever since Barquq’s death, the innate ruggedness within the Mamluk body-politic had been in a steady state of decline. However, in the current situation he was well aware that any public expression of such views would be foolish and irresponsible.

Toward the end of his first week in Damascus, ‘Abd al-Rahman happened to be sitting in the courtyard of the Great Umawi Mosque. In such a holy place he was deep in thought, a habit he had developed during the course of his first fleeting visit to Damascus in the company of Sultan Faraj when he was putting down Tanam’s rebellion. Some people sitting close by asked him if he had decided to leave the city if it were subjected to the kind of plunder and bedlam visited on both Aleppo and Hama at the hands of the Mongol invaders. He responded that all pious judges were an integral segment of the populace; they would stick with the people through thick and thin. Every day ‘Abd al-Rahman was plied with a number of questions from worshippers in the mosque, and he did his best to respond, drawing a good deal of comfort and pleasure from such a spectacular mosque in which he was happy to pray and in particular to lead the Maliki community’s devotions by the prayer niche of the Companions. Every afternoon he enjoyed participating in the purificatory reading, accompanied by voices sweet enough to be those of angels.

As the following week began, ‘Abd al-Rahman headed for the copyists’ market accompanied by a young boy whom Yashbak had appointed to serve him. He purchased the paper, ink, and pens he needed, then went to the book stalls close by Bab al-Jayrun to look for manuscripts of works about Byzantine, Jewish, and Persian history, and that of other peoples as well. These were regions the gist of whose history he had obtained from the history of Ibn Jarir al-Tabari but which was insufficient to meet the requirements of his own research. He went to the book shops in the ancient part of the city and poured over various books on the topic he had identified during the course of his earlier visit mentioned above. After several hours of such searching, ‘Abd al-Rahman realized that his mind was too preoccupied with the current war atmosphere. He could not concentrate enough on the matter at hand and the details involved. He decided therefore to pay a copyist to make copies of as much as possible so that he could take it all back home with him to Egypt.

On Tuesday of his third week in Damascus, ‘Abd al-Rahman paid a visit to a shrine between Bab al-Jabiya and Bab al-Saghir. He prayed for mercy on the dead, and paid particular attention to the names of those whose tombstones he could read: Bilal, Ka‘b al-Ahbar, Umm Habiba, and her brother, Mu’awiya ibn Abi Sufyan. As he was about to leave, he found his path between the graves blocked by an old man, naked save for a loincloth; his face was wrinkled, his head bald, his beard scraggly; he was toothless, and his bones protruded as though he had just emerged from a grave himself.

“You have prayed for all of them,” he said addressing ‘Abd al-Rahman, “but not me. I am ‘Uways al-Qarni. Follow me, sir, and I’ll show you my grave.”

‘Abd al-Rahman frowned at the old man, hoping to drive him away, but lost his balance and fell to the ground, almost as though he had had a bad turn. The old man wiped ‘Abd al-Rahman’s hands and rubbed his chest. With that, ‘Abd al-Rahman asked the man who he was and why he insisted on living among the tombs.

“That young man’s a rogue,” he replied. “He tries to attack me when he knows that I’m even weaker than his own faith. Young people today no longer feel the slightest sympathy for old folk like me. I’ve already stated my name, sir. Don’t you know it? I lived in the time of the Prophet — on him be peace. I never saw him — more’s the pity! Yet he envelops me and is ever close to me. Here’s my throat; it caused me to die of choking, whereupon I was forever consigned to this place, condemned to be very last of the dead,”

“And what is your function, saint of God?”

“I guard the tombs against pranksters, defacers, pissers, and plunderers.”

“And what can I do for you, saint of God?”

“Pray over my grave and convey my greetings to the Lord of Creation on the day you meet Him.”

‘Abd al-Rahman could see no way of avoiding tagging along behind this strange figure to an antechamber in the tomb. The old man claimed his grave was in a cave that could only be entered by skinny individuals who had eaten nothing for hundreds of years. With that he said farewell and disappeared into the cave, leaving ‘Abd al-Rahman and his servant boy in a state of shock. They were even more surprised when they saw the very same man crouched in the top of a lofty palm-tree by Bab al-Maqbara, weeping and yelling Ί see the mosque as an eagle with broken wings! I see its dome shrouded in gloom! Will Damascus have its last rites?”