Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

We have no alternative but to negotiate with the tyrant Timur. Had Imam Ibn Taymiya — God bless his spirit — been alive to witness our current plight, he would have authorized negotiation with the Tatar enemy as a way of avoiding the worst of his ravages and saving the blood of Muslims. In extreme circumstances, prudence is the most effective weapon for the weak and defenseless believer. God, the High, the Almighty, alone has the power and the might .

I envisage negotiation as involving face-to-face talks between our religious scholars in particular and Timur. Our principal task is to persuade the invader to agree not to harm civilians in return for receiving the keys to the city and the Citadel .

However, before any agreement is reached, Timur will insist on meeting with us religious scholars and judges, just as he did two months ago in Aleppo between the time when he defeated the army and later destroyed its principal buildings. All the evidence that I have been able to gather from people who survived the assault on that city confirms how vicious the Tatars are and how fond of trickery and deceit their commander is .

In any event, we must learn from the Aleppo case. During the discussions that Timur had with the religious scholars of the captured city, he asked them — according to accounts I have received — a very difficult question: So which are martyrs, our dead or yours? That kept everyone quiet for a while. Everyone struggled to come up with an answer that would prevent what would otherwise be guaranteed destruction. Eventually it was al-Hafiz al-Khwarizmi, mufti of Aleppo, who saved the day by pointing out that an Arab had posed the very same question to the Prophet of God — on him be peace — who had replied: ‘Anyone who has fought so that the word of God may be the highest, that person is a martyr. ‘It is up to you, Wali al-Din, to come up with a similarly authoritative hadith so that you can expect to hear Timur react by saying, “Khub, khub” (Good. good), in a word, the true Word is the basis for our salvation. So help yourself avoid the worst possible outcome and open in front of us the path of hope .

We are all relying on you. dear friend, to frame the discussion with Timur because you are both a renowned scholar and a clever strategist. Start now preparing for all the tricky questions. Search through history for precedents and similar situations .

I am making ready for all eventualities, including the possibility of Timur breaking all treaties and agreements. Along with certain religious colleagues I am training a group of young men in the techniques of street warfare. God is our helper, and He alone has the power!

For ‘Abd al-Rahman this letter from Ibn Muflih served as a wake-up call. As a result, he decided that the time had come to verify the real situation. It was the very beginning of Jumada al-Akhira. He got out his mule and headed for some of the quarters close to his house and to the citadel itself. The predominant color everywhere was dust: air, roads, animals, people. It was made even worse by the frequent-skirmishes taking place to the west of the city. There was no let-up in the weather either, and the atmosphere was damp and foul. It almost felt as if the Mongol army had gained control of the snowy mountains and could prevent purer air from reaching the city and its citadel.

The expressions on people’s faces made it clear that the only reason they were huddling together within the city walls was that they were too weak to run away and were scared to death at the thought of being brutally attacked. They all looked like maltreated animals, trying every conceivable contortion in an attempt to escape. They were hoarding food and water and leaving mounds of garbage in the streets that served as food for insects and stray animals.

When ‘Abd al-Rahman stopped by the city gate known as al-Bab al-Saghir, he had no trouble with the guards in passing through; actually the chief guard happily conducted him to the office of the Citadel’s commander, a man called Azdar. ‘Abd al-Rahman was welcomed with a great deal of warmth and respect. As the result of a short conversation, he discovered that the commander was intent on defending the Citadel against Mongol troops even if the city of Damascus itself surrendered; he was quite fanatical on that point. ‘Abd al-Rahman then raised the issue of his sense of loyalty to his lord, Sultan Faraj, and the fact that only those selected by the rich and famous would be allowed to seek protection in the Citadel. As the commander bade the judge farewell and placed a Mamluk at his disposal, he told him that the Citadel gates would only be open tomorrow morning, but that he was welcome to choose a tent for himself. “It is my personal hope,” the commander said, “that you’ll be with me when the crucial time arrives.”

“Abd al-Rahman made do with saying farewell to the man, then got on his mule and allowed the Mamluk to take the bridle and proceed on foot.

There was not a great deal of flat space to be had in this lofty citadel, which commanded the heights and the rocky promontory. Everything seemed on the point of leaning over and rolling downward. There was so much movement going on that the whole place looked like a beehive or ants’ nest. There were just a few houses, overlooked by a single well-sited mansion. Tents of all shapes and sizes were strewn over the terrain, sagging and flapping as they tried to afford protection from the heat and dust.

By a little after midday, ‘Abd al-Rahman had settled into a small tent and performed his prayers. He had eaten a little bit as well, telling himself that, in time of crisis like this, one has to munch the odd scrap or two. He then tried to rest for a while, but it only helped his body. His mind kept churning away, beset as it was by all sorts of worries and misgivings. He was thinking as much about his own small family as he was about previous sieges that he had heard or read about. During the course of these musings he came to realize that any hope of his returning safe and sound to his family was entirely dependent on bringing the impending Mongol siege of Damascus to a conclusion. Such a conclusion would have to take the form of either a conditional or compulsory surrender of the city or else a successful use of resistance tactics until such time as the Mongols grew tired and the passage of time created dissension in their ranks. In that case they would pack up their camp and move their campaign elsewhere. The question was: could the people of Damascus stand the hunger that such a siege would involve, along with all the other miseries, overt and covert?

While his mind was wandering through the byways of memory in this fashion, with him only half-awake, he suddenly recalled an unusual event he had read about in a book on ancient Greek history, the name of which he had forgotten. It told how the army of the Peloponesian allies under Spartan command had been forced to raise the siege of Athens during the time of Pericles, all because they were afraid of being infected by the outbreak of plague inside the walls of the besieged city. Once he had fully recalled the story, he had an incredible idea. How would it be if the inhabitants of Damascus tried to fool the Mongols into believing that an outbreak of plague was spreading among the inhabitants of the city? He kept asking himself that question till he fell into a restless sleep, one that was interrupted by a series of terrifying, violent visions. He was woken up in the early morning by shouts to the effect that the Dome of Yalbugha was on fire, and the sultan and army had left. He rushed outside and found men scurrying around on their own and in groups, all saying the same thing. The news about the Mamluk army leaving could still be a matter of doubt, but the fire and columns of smoke rising from the men’s homes and quarters was a fact that could be confirmed by the naked eye peering through the crenelated gaps in the walls.