Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

“Reliable information only comes in fits and starts,” he said. “What we know suggests that his army is no larger than ours in either equipment or size, although he does have an elephant brigade and ballistas. His agents inside the city are spreading all sorts of false information: they’re saying, for example, that Timur plans to drown Damascus in a hail of incendiary bombs projected by long-distance catapults that only he possesses. The strange thing is that, when these agents are captured, they still stick to their story even if they’re being tortured or threatened with death. We have twenty agents of our own, but that’s all. No other Mamluk would volunteer for the job even disguised as monks or dervishes. Even when we tried to dragoon some of them, they threatened to defect and kill themselves before Timur’s elephants tore them apart.”

Burhan al-Din listened to Yashbak’s report with considerable interest. “From your report,” he said once Yashbak had finished, “I gather that the Mongol noose is tightening around our neck. I was preparing a whole series of fiery sermons to deliver to the Mamluk brigades in which I preach a spirit of courageous advance rather than sitting still, waging jihad instead of sitting on our hands. I was going to invoke Qur’anic verses and Prophetic hadith that would rouse men to action. But what’s the use of such talk when corruption has sapped away all notion of traditional bravery and morale has sunk to the lowest possible level?”

“In spite of everything, dear friend, it’s still the religious scholars’ duty to inspire hope in people.”

“Yes, and it’s the duty of commanders and soldiers to fulfill their pledge to use every means to defend people. What’s the use of an army that’s crippled by fear and dissent? And what about generals who don’t know the first thing about propaganda warfare? ‘War is deceit,’ as the Lord of Mankind put it. Timur operates on that principle in dealing with states and generals; he’s both pioneer and genius in its application, and he uses it in spades! Yashbak, it’s up to you and your colleagues to counteract his tactics and reverse the tide. If not, then heaven help Damascus, the Salihiya, and the Great Umawi Mosque in the face of Tatar terrors. The rivers of the city will run red with the blood of defenseless civilians, and the entire city will be pillaged and destroyed just as Aleppo and other cities were earlier. As the saying goes, whoever issues a warning is excused.”

Yashbak now stood up, embraced the two judges, and spoke to them both before departing. “Waiting for deliverance from God,” he said, “is a kind of workship. I’m keeping my eye on Aqbay and the infantry commanders. Everything is not lost, at least, not yet.”

‘Abd al-Rahman and Burhan al-Din were left facing each other, each one of them feeling a strong pull toward the other. A very special kind of mutual affection had developed between the two of them, and that made them want to spend more time in each other’s company, if only to recompense for the occasions they had missed before. They prayed the noon prayer together, then sat down to eat lunch and chat. ‘Abd al-Rahman learned that his Hanbali colleague was married to two women and had two children. He was astonished to learn that he had read the Introduction to History and many sections of The Book of Exemplary Lessons and that he knew Persian, Turkish, and even Greek well. What amazed him more than anything was the way Burhan al-Din was able to talk about schools of jurisprudence, Arabic poetry, biographies of kings, and national histories. It almost seemed as if he made a regular habit of strolling amid the bowers and meadows of knowledge without let or hindrance. In his discussions of a wide variety of topics with ‘Abd al-Rahman he showed a great deal of critical acumen and good taste, and occasionally a truly exceptional degree of modesty. Whenever ‘Abd al-Rahman chose to express his admiration, he would respond with statements like, “What God has taught me, Wali al-Din, is just a small part of the veritable flood of your own wisdom.”

After taking a short nap, the two men went to the Umawi Mosque where they prayed the afternoon prayer together. They then went to visit some of the city’s monuments, the whereabouts of which the Hanbali judge had prior knowledge. At one time he would refer to Damascus as ‘the city of the two imams,’ Ahmad ibn Taymiya and Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziya, and at another, ‘the city of seven gates and rivers.’ For the rest of the day, the two judges went to visit the Sufi cemetery where the two great imams were buried, then moved on to pass by some hospices, shrines, and markets in old Damascus and al-Salihiya. They made this tour on their mules and on foot.

The next day the two men decided to visit some parks, gardens, and sites by the rivers, places where the four elements of nature coalesced in exquisite ways to provide the visitor with the most beautiful and elaborate tableaux, all of which would be breathlessly described and explained by Burhan al-Din. Starting by the base of the citadel and following the bank of the River Barada they came to the famous district of al-Ghuta, and its hillock — complete with stream — containing the shrine to Jesus’ cradle (on him be peace), then to the villages of al-Nayrab and al-Mazzah. Everywhere the two men looked there was water and greenery, and gardens and orchards one after another, and squares festooned with palm trees, all of them filled with varieties of birds. Crossing the Rivers Tura and Yazid they reached Jabal Qasiyun, place of ascent for the Prophets — peace be upon them all. They made do with a single shrine visit, to the birth-cave of Ibrahim, Companion of God, then descended the mountain once again to the city of al-Salihiya. There they ate in a restaurant before heading for a deserted house high up on one of the city’s mountains, a house which Burhan al-Din said was owned by his brother who had disappeared two years earlier. He invited his companion to relax a little on the balcony before they both returned to Damascus.

On the balcony, ‘Abd al-Rahman expressed his profuse thanks to his companion for everything he had seen. He then asked Burhan al-Din how he came to be so familiar with all the different districts in the Syrian capital.

“I forgot to tell you, Wali al-Din,” Burhan al-Din replied, “that I’m a son of Harran, just like Imam Ibn Taymiya — may God perfume his resting place. I spent my entire youth in the Hanbali district of al-Salihiya before I moved to Cairo. For me, this small tour we’ve made today is a nostalgic revisit to the places I remember, vital segments of my very being. Were it not for the Mongol threat and our current state of mobilization, I would give you a much grander tour of every part of the city.”

“And what about this brother of yours who’s disappeared?”

“There are many stories circulating about him. The most probable — although God alone knows — is that he’s living in Granada, rousing people to resist the Christians and save al-Andalus.”

“If that’s true, it’s a wonderful thing he’s doing. I’ll ask my friends in Granada about him and, God willing, let you know what they have to say.”

“While you’re about it, ask them too about what’s happening in the parts of al-Andalus that are left, our other great wound.”

“Dear colleague, that particular wound is still bleeding, and none of the puny rulers of al-Andalus and the Maghrib has the ability to dress and cauterize it.”

“From your masterful work of history, Wali al-Din, I’ve learned that the Almohad defeat at the Battle of al-‘Iqab during the reign of al-Nasir in 609 presaged the end of any real possibility for Maghribi forces to recapture power in the fading light of once brilliant al-Andalus.”