Mother of the Believers Part 48

The Muslims had one advantage-cavalry. Heraclius had sent primarily infantry soldiers with a small but st.u.r.dy contingent of hors.e.m.e.n for support. If the Byzantine cavalry were destroyed, the Muslims would be able to take on the ma.s.sive fighting force with the benefit of superior horsemans.h.i.+p. It would mean taking a tremendous risk-to ride out and concentrate all their cavalry's power on engaging the enemy's hors.e.m.e.n. A horseman would always be superior to a foot soldier, but two hors.e.m.e.n were equally matched. If the Muslims won, they would have a chance to overwhelm the Byzantine infantry. But if they lost, then the battle was over. Without the s.h.i.+eld of their horses, the Muslims would be slaughtered mercilessly.

It was a gamble, and the stakes could not have been higher-all or nothing. In the days before he had embraced Islam, Muawiya had been an avid gambler, known to take risks in games of chance that would have shocked the faint of heart. But if the son of Abu Sufyan had learned anything from his years of observing Muhammad's improbable string of successes against his enemies, it was that fortune favored the bold.

And so it was that day that Muawaya sat on his stallion beside the greatest warriors of Islam, including Khalid ibn al-Waleed and the famed swordsman Zubayr ibn al-Awwam, and looked into the face of death. Once they charged into the heart of the Byzantine cavalry, there would be no retreat. Either they would emerge victorious, or they would never emerge at all.

Khalid met his eyes and Muawiya could see that he was thinking the same thing. The two Meccans grinned at each other like boys on the playing field. And then the Sword of Allah raised his blade and called the battle cry that had changed the world forever.

"Allahu akbar!"

As horses raced into the whirlwind of death, as swords clashed and arrows buzzed about him like angry bees, Muawiya laughed and thanked G.o.d for giving him a chance at glory.

THE M MUSLIM CAVALRY DESTROYED the Byzantine hors.e.m.e.n that day, and the battle was over. Without the protection of their mounted troops, the enemy soldiers were crushed under the hooves of eight thousand Arabian stallions. The mighty legions of Constantinople scattered, fleeing back over the Yarmuk River or escaping into the desert. the Byzantine hors.e.m.e.n that day, and the battle was over. Without the protection of their mounted troops, the enemy soldiers were crushed under the hooves of eight thousand Arabian stallions. The mighty legions of Constantinople scattered, fleeing back over the Yarmuk River or escaping into the desert.

In six days, an empire that had inherited the scepter of Rome was gone.

As Muawiya gazed out at the carnage on the battlefield, at the thousands of broken bodies carpeting the earth, he smiled to himself. How foolish the Arabs had been to resist Muhammad for all those years. He had given them a faith and then forged them into a nation. And now he had bequeathed them an empire. The only question now was whether his people had the courage and willpower to sustain their success or whether they, too, would disappear into the scrolls of history like the men they had just defeated. Was Islam a pa.s.sing wave in the ocean of time, or could they turn it into a civilization that would outstrip all the nations that had fought for dominion over these lands?

As the sun set over a day that had changed history, Muawiya gazed up into the heavens and he saw a sign that caused his breathing to stop.

The new moon was s.h.i.+ning high above him in the fading twilight. And al-Zuhra, al-Zuhra, the s.h.i.+ning star known as Venus to the Romans, glittered closer than he had ever seen to the horns of the crescent. It was a beautiful and stirring sight, a conjunction unlike any in the memory of men, and his soldiers soon stopped what they were doing and stared up at the sky in amazement. the s.h.i.+ning star known as Venus to the Romans, glittered closer than he had ever seen to the horns of the crescent. It was a beautiful and stirring sight, a conjunction unlike any in the memory of men, and his soldiers soon stopped what they were doing and stared up at the sky in amazement.

Muawiya joined them, gazing up at the strange celestial phenomenon, and then he felt a sudden chill go down his spine. A sense of wonder that had always been foreign to his fiercely practical-some would say cynical-heart.

And then he understood. The crescent and the star were a sign from G.o.d, an answer to the secret thoughts of his heart. Allah had showered his blessings on the Muslim Ummah Ummah that day and had shown Muawiya that His hand was indeed guiding the forces of history. that day and had shown Muawiya that His hand was indeed guiding the forces of history.

In that instant, Muawiya knew that Islam would triumph and the nations of the earth would turn and face the Kaaba. And he knew with even greater certainty that he was destined to lead the Muslims to their glorious victory. Muawiya's childhood dream of becoming king of the Arabs would be fulfilled, but on a scale far greater than he could have ever imagined.

The Battle of Yarmuk was just the beginning.

5.

The conquests that had begun under my father continued with miraculous speed during Umar's reign. Damascus fell, as did Palestine. The Byzantine humiliation at Yarmuk had effectively destroyed Roman imperial power in the region after almost a thousand years of dominance. The Prophet's command to treat conquered peoples with leniency, giving them the right to wors.h.i.+p and live their lives as long as they paid the jizya jizya tribute to the state, was a decisive factor in the ease of our victories. When word spread that the Muslims did not plan to impose their religion on the defeated peoples, quick and painless surrender became preferable to extended resistance. Our generosity toward our subjects was unusual in a world where conquerors were expected to vanquish and crush their opponents and played a major role in ensuring peace in the lands we took long after the last sword had been sheathed. tribute to the state, was a decisive factor in the ease of our victories. When word spread that the Muslims did not plan to impose their religion on the defeated peoples, quick and painless surrender became preferable to extended resistance. Our generosity toward our subjects was unusual in a world where conquerors were expected to vanquish and crush their opponents and played a major role in ensuring peace in the lands we took long after the last sword had been sheathed.

This was particularly true of Jerusalem, which finally fell after months of siege. Umar himself traveled to the holy city to formally accept its surrender. The Christian patriarch of Jerusalem had led Umar through the ancient streets where the prophets of old had walked, until they reached the sacred site where the Temple of Solomon had once stood. It was a place that was deeply sacred for Muslims, not only because it had once been the House of G.o.d but because Muhammad had ascended to heaven from its stones during the Night Journey. But when Umar arrived, he was shocked to discover that it was a garbage dump. Literally. The Christians of the city had dumped hundreds of years of sewage on the holy site, under the misguided belief that they were honoring Jesus, who had prophesied that the Temple would be destroyed. As long as the plateau was left in disarray, the prophecy would remain in effect and the truth of Christ's words would be evident for all to see.

Outraged at the Christian desecration of the Sanctuary, Umar had personally cleansed the site with his own hands, carrying out rubbish in the folds of his cloak until the platform had been cleared and a small house of wors.h.i.+p could be built. When the Sanctuary was again purified, Umar signed a treaty with the defeated Christians of Jerusalem, guaranteeing the safety of their lives and property and their right to wors.h.i.+p freely. The Christian patriarch had politely asked that the Muslims continue the Byzantine policy of banning Jews from the holy city, but Umar refused. And so, for the first time in centuries, the Children of Israel returned to the Holy Land from which they had been expelled, ironically at the generosity of a religion they had rejected.

And our policy of religious tolerance was soon to have a proactive effect in generating support for our expansion. After the fall of Palestine, the Meccan emissary Amr ibn al-As led a small force of a few thousand hors.e.m.e.n into the Sinai and invaded Egypt, which had been traded back and forth by Persians and Byzantines during their all-consuming war over the past century. Neither side had shown much compa.s.sion to the people of Egypt, who were merely p.a.w.ns in the great game of empire. The Persians were fire wors.h.i.+pers and had no love for the Christianity of Egypt, which missionaries and warriors had been trying to impose on their ancient people for centuries. And the Byzantines looked upon the Coptic Christians of Egypt as heretics who had been misled from the true teachings of Rome and Constantinople. Both nations had brutally persecuted the Egyptians and tried to erase their religious ident.i.ty. And so it was that when Amr's forces appeared on the horizon, the local populace rose up against the last of their Byzantine rulers and helped the Muslims take control of the land beyond the Nile. The Muslims did not understand, nor did we care for, the minute differences of theology that divided the Copts from their fellow Christians. They were all People of the Book as far as we were concerned, and as long as they paid their taxes, we didn't bother with what they believed or how they performed their church services. Thus it was that the Holy Qur'an's commandment Let there be no compulsion in religion Let there be no compulsion in religion became the rallying cry that brought the oppressed peoples of North Africa into our fold. And it was the great irony of G.o.d's purpose that the Muslim prayer call of became the rallying cry that brought the oppressed peoples of North Africa into our fold. And it was the great irony of G.o.d's purpose that the Muslim prayer call of No G.o.d but G.o.d No G.o.d but G.o.d was at last heard to echo at the Pyramids, where Moses himself had sought to convince Pharaoh of this truth in a world long gone. was at last heard to echo at the Pyramids, where Moses himself had sought to convince Pharaoh of this truth in a world long gone.

And even as the west fell to the forces of Islam, the east opened to our armies like the petals of a flower in the springtime. The defeat of the Persians in Iraq had rumbled through the Sa.s.sanid provinces like a landslide, and under Umar's command, the Muslims tore through the heart of Persia. We crushed the last of the Sa.s.sanid troops at the Battle of Qadisiya and soon Ctesiphon, the mighty capital of Persia, fell to Islam and the ancient empire of the shahs vanished into the annals of history.

As nations fell before us with stunning ease, the coffers of Medina began to overflow with gold and jewels, tribute coming in from all over the world to the new empire that had slain the old. I heard one account that said that the storehouses of the Bayt al-Mal Bayt al-Mal held tens of millions of gold dirhams, more wealth than had ever physically existed inside all of Arabia. It was a bounty beyond comprehension, and Umar was rightly concerned that such a concentration of wealth would corrupt the hearts of the Muslims. He ordered wide distributions from the treasury to the poor and placed the elderly and the sick on regular pensions to ensure that they were provided for. But no matter how much Umar gave away, more kept flowing into our coffers, as the borders of Islam expanded from the deserts of Africa to the mountains of the Caucasus. held tens of millions of gold dirhams, more wealth than had ever physically existed inside all of Arabia. It was a bounty beyond comprehension, and Umar was rightly concerned that such a concentration of wealth would corrupt the hearts of the Muslims. He ordered wide distributions from the treasury to the poor and placed the elderly and the sick on regular pensions to ensure that they were provided for. But no matter how much Umar gave away, more kept flowing into our coffers, as the borders of Islam expanded from the deserts of Africa to the mountains of the Caucasus.

It was an exciting time to be alive, and every day news came to Medina of some stunning victory of the Muslim armies. And yet I can only write of those battles as others have relayed them to me, for in all those years, I did not cross the borders of Arabia. With my husband's death and then my father's, I found that my role in the life of the Muslim Ummah Ummah was becoming circ.u.mscribed to Medina. During the Prophet's life, I had traveled with him on his battles and had been his constant companion on diplomatic journeys to unite the Arab tribes. But after his pa.s.sing, I rarely left the confines of the oasis except to go to Pilgrimage in Mecca, and then only under a heavy honor guard of the Caliph's soldiers. The freedom that I had loved as a child was gone, and for all intents and purposes, I had become a prisoner to my honored status as Mother of the Believers. was becoming circ.u.mscribed to Medina. During the Prophet's life, I had traveled with him on his battles and had been his constant companion on diplomatic journeys to unite the Arab tribes. But after his pa.s.sing, I rarely left the confines of the oasis except to go to Pilgrimage in Mecca, and then only under a heavy honor guard of the Caliph's soldiers. The freedom that I had loved as a child was gone, and for all intents and purposes, I had become a prisoner to my honored status as Mother of the Believers.

Since there was nothing I could do to change things, I decided to make the most of the role that was given me. I became a teacher to both men and women, and every day prominent Muslims would come to my apartment and speak to me through the curtain, asking for spiritual and practical advice. My prodigious memory proved to be a valuable a.s.set to the believers, as I could easily recite word for word conversations that I had had with my husband years before. I became one of the most trusted narrators of hadith, hadith, oral traditions about the life and teachings of Muhammad, which were soon being pa.s.sed by word of mouth over the vast distances of the Muslim empire. Whenever the people wished to know what my husband had said regarding anything from how to properly cleanse themselves after defecation to the appropriate inheritance shares for their grandchildren, they came to me and I told them what I knew. oral traditions about the life and teachings of Muhammad, which were soon being pa.s.sed by word of mouth over the vast distances of the Muslim empire. Whenever the people wished to know what my husband had said regarding anything from how to properly cleanse themselves after defecation to the appropriate inheritance shares for their grandchildren, they came to me and I told them what I knew.

My reputation as a scholar had led Umar to rely on me heavily for advice during his reign, and I felt great pride that a young girl in her twenties had become an influential voice in the court of the Caliph, who was fast becoming the most powerful man on earth. Yet despite his unquestioned authority, Umar remained a deeply humble and austere man, wearing patched clothes and sleeping on the floor in his tiny hut. When envoys from conquered nations arrived in Medina, they were invariably shocked to find that their "emperor" lived like a beggar, without even the security of personal bodyguards.

But even as my prestige in the community rose, my loneliness increased. I and the other Mothers had been forbidden by G.o.d to marry again after the Messenger's death, and so we lived alone in our apartments, the old jealousies fading away under the bond of shared boredom. In truth, even if G.o.d had permitted us to remarry, none of us would have done so. It was impossible to love any man other than the Messenger.

It would have been an easier life had we been blessed with children, but that was not to be for any of us. And so I contented myself with the company of the children of my loved ones. You, Abdallah, my sister's son, became the closest thing I would ever know to a child of my own, and I loved you accordingly. I took great pride in watching you grow from a carefree child into a mature and responsible young man, and I know that as long as Islam is led by men like you, our nation will be safe from the temptations of power.

I also spent a great deal of time with my younger brother, Muhammad, who had been born during the Prophet's final Pilgrimage to Mecca. After my father died, his mother, Asma bint Umais, married Ali, and Muhammad was raised beside Hasan and Husayn, who were also like children to me. Though I had no affection for their father, the grandsons of the Prophet were innocent and sweet, and whenever I saw them, I was reminded of my gentle husband. Hasan was a fun-loving youth who was always climbing trees and racing with the other boys, and his handsome face, so much like his grandfather's, was always bright with a smile. Husayn was the more serious of the two, shy and reserved, his eyes exuding a deep compa.s.sion and sadness that reminded me of his ghostly mother. My little brother, Muhammad, was their constant companion and protector. If any of the naughty boys ever acted up or played rough with the Prophet's grandsons, Muhammad was there to teach them a hard lesson in playground manners. He had always possessed a pa.s.sionate sense of justice, a quality that would sadly lead to tragedy for him and the whole Ummah Ummah one day. one day.

Though I loved the children of Ali's house, my relations.h.i.+p with the Prophet's cousin was still strained. We were always formally cordial in each other's presence, but the chasm between us continued to grow over the years. My refusal to forgive Ali for his suggestion that the Messenger divorce me had become a matter of stubborn habit now, a fault of my pride that would be the cause of much sorrow.

But despite the minor frictions between members of the Prophet's household, the life of Medina was one of peace and placidity. The excitement and the terror of my youth were replaced by a pleasant monotony of quiet days, each little different from the one before or the one to come. It was utterly safe and utterly boring, and some part of my adventurous spirit longed for a return to a time when every day was a matter of life and death, when the future was covered in mists and clouds and my heart beat loudly in the thrilling antic.i.p.ation of change.

And then one cold winter day, when my twenties had at last given way to my thirties, the golden age of Islam ended with a single act of violence. Umar was standing at the head of prayers in the Masjid when a Persian slave sought revenge for the conquest of his nation. He rushed the Caliph and stabbed him viciously in the gut, before taking his own life.

Umar was mortally wounded by the a.s.sa.s.sin, but he lived long enough to appoint a small council of believers to choose a successor. As he lay dying in great agony, I saw him look up and smile and I heard him whisper something that I did not catch. When I turned to your father, Zubayr, who had leaned close to Umar and caught his words, he was pale.

"He said he sees his daughter holding out her hand," Zubayr recounted, and I felt a chill go through me as I remembered the stories of the little girl he had buried alive during his days as a pagan. Umar raised his hand weakly and I watched him curl his fingers as he took hold of something I could not see. And then the Caliph of Islam, the most powerful and n.o.ble leader I had seen next to my own husband, pa.s.sed away to his eternal reward.

That night, Umar was buried alongside my husband and my father, and that day, I erected a curtain inside my apartment, separating their graves from the tiny s.p.a.ce where I lived.

The council of believers had no time to grieve, for the fate of the empire was at stake. After three days of secret consultation, the elders of Medina emerged and proclaimed the sweet-hearted Uthman to be the next Commander of the Believers.

It was a decision that made political sense, since Uthman was a prominent leader of Quraysh and could be expected to keep the n.o.bles of the far-flung empire in check. But in the end it would prove to be a disastrous mistake, one that would lead to the horror of blood flowing through the streets of Medina.

6 Medina-AD 656 The first several years of Uthman's rule were unremarkable. The conquests of Islam continued unabated. The Muslim armies pushed west out of Egypt and seized control of most of the Mediterranean coastline. On the eastern front, our soldiers pushed through the dying remnants of the Persian empire to seize the Kerman province, where a race of fierce tribesmen called Baluchis reigned. To the north, Armenia and the mountains of the Caucasus came under our dominion. Following my husband's commandment to seek knowledge even if you must go to China, seek knowledge even if you must go to China, Uthman sent an envoy to the Emperor Gaozong and invited him to accept Islam. The Chinese overlord politely declined to convert but was shrewd enough to open trade with the Muslim empire and allowed our people to preach and propagate our faith inside his borders. Uthman sent an envoy to the Emperor Gaozong and invited him to accept Islam. The Chinese overlord politely declined to convert but was shrewd enough to open trade with the Muslim empire and allowed our people to preach and propagate our faith inside his borders.

Perhaps most significantly in the realm of international relations, Uthman supervised the building of the first Muslim navy. His kinsman Muawiya, who had become the highly respected governor of Syria, soon led a naval attack on the Byzantine forces off the coast of Lebanon. The Muslims, filled with the brash confidence of decades of success, rammed the Byzantine s.h.i.+ps, bringing their own vessels so close to the opposing fleets that their masts were almost touching. And then our warriors leaped across decks and engaged in ferocious hand-to-hand combat with the Greek sailors, using their fiercely honed skills from urban warfare on the ocean.

The Byzantine marines were accustomed to shooting at their enemies from a distance with arrows and launching flaming pellets at rival s.h.i.+ps, but they had never fought in this fas.h.i.+on, with s.h.i.+ps used merely as bridges for foot soldiers. Their confusion quickly devolved into chaos, and the sea was stained crimson with the blood of imperial sailors. Muawiya emerged triumphant, his prestige rising like the sun among the Muslims. In later years, we would learn that the victory could have been even greater, for the emperor himself had been on one of the Byzantine s.h.i.+ps that Muawiya's men had boarded. The lord of Constantinople had escaped certain death only by disguising himself as a common sailor and jumping into the sea, where he was rescued by his men and rushed to safety on the island of Sicily.

Uthman continued and expanded upon his predecessor's military success, but it was in the spiritual realm that he left his greatest legacy. As the caliphate continued to grow by leaps and bounds and the number of Muslims went from thousands to millions, the need to present the standard written copies of the holy Qur'an became pressing. The Holy Book had never been compiled into one doc.u.ment during the Prophet's lifetime, primarily since he was illiterate, as were a great many of the Arab tribesmen, and symbols on a parchment were meaningless to them. Because of this stark reality, Muslims committed the Qur'an to memory and relayed its teachings orally. This system worked well in the early years of our faith, but as we came into contact with highly advanced civilizations where literacy was the norm, the need to present the Word of G.o.d to the new believers in written format became a priority.

My father had kept a private copy of the Qur'an in his study, one that he had compiled after the Garden of Death, where many of the Companions who had memorized the entire Qur'an had been killed. Before his death, Abu Bakr had pa.s.sed along his personal compilation to Umar, who had subsequently left it to his daughter Hafsa. When Uthman learned that she still had the folio in her possession, he asked her to submit it to him for verification. And then he summoned those in Medina who were known to have memorized the entire Qur'an, forming a committee in which I and my sister-wife Umm Salama partic.i.p.ated. We were given Hafsa's codex, which was a jumbled collection of verses written on parchments and palm leaves, and asked to verify its accuracy. Once it had been confirmed by all those in the holy city who knew the Qur'an by heart, Uthman ordered copies of the authorized text to be made and sent to the capitals of every province of the empire. And thus he ensured that the Word of G.o.d would not be changed according to the desires of men, as the Prophet had claimed to have happened with the scriptures of the Jews and Christians. And in doing so, Uthman fulfilled the prophecy of G.o.d in a verse of the Qur'an itself: Truly We have sent down this Reminder, and truly We will preserve it Truly We have sent down this Reminder, and truly We will preserve it.

I have often thought that Uthman would have been fortunate if he had pa.s.sed away shortly after issuing the standard written text of G.o.d's Word. He would have been remembered purely as a man of great wisdom and vision, whose life had been of great service to the cause of Islam.

But, alas, this was not meant to be. His memory has been tainted by the actions of evil men and fools. And I grieve to say that I count myself among them.

AS THE YEARS OF Uthman's reign grew, so did the wealth of the Muslim empire-and the ambitions of its leaders. Uthman had increasingly relied on members of his own clan, the Umayyads, to administer the business of the rapidly expanding state. Some of his kinsmen, like Muawiya, were efficient and respected governors who were loved by their subjects. But as the empire grew ever wider and the supervision by Medina became more difficult, local politicians from among the Quraysh, many of whom had embraced Islam only when Mecca fell and they had no choice, became increasingly free to rule as they wished. Uthman's reign grew, so did the wealth of the Muslim empire-and the ambitions of its leaders. Uthman had increasingly relied on members of his own clan, the Umayyads, to administer the business of the rapidly expanding state. Some of his kinsmen, like Muawiya, were efficient and respected governors who were loved by their subjects. But as the empire grew ever wider and the supervision by Medina became more difficult, local politicians from among the Quraysh, many of whom had embraced Islam only when Mecca fell and they had no choice, became increasingly free to rule as they wished.

And in a world where gold was flowing in rivers, corruption and venality began to set in. Complaints arose over the self-serving conduct and brutality of some of the Umayyad governors, but the Caliph himself did not hear of the growing unrest until the sparks of discontent had become a raging fire.

For Uthman had made one terrible mistake in choosing his own inner circle. He had appointed a young cousin named Marwan ibn al-Hakam to serve as an adviser. Both Marwan and his father had the dubious distinction of being cursed by my husband, who had expelled them from Arabia because he saw in their hearts the disease of grave treachery. They had remained in exile until Uthman took power. Feeling great sorrow for his kinsmen, the old man had pardoned them and recalled them to Medina in the hope of rehabilitating them. It was a foolish mistake, motivated by the softness of his heart, for the moment the bitter young man returned, he quickly sought to achieve power over those who had humiliated him. Using honeyed words and feigning humility, Marwan rose to power as Uthman's personal scribe, thereby becoming responsible for writing-and reading-all of the Caliph's correspondence. Using his newfound power, Marwan began issuing commands under the Caliph's seal without his knowledge, furthering the interests of corrupt members of the Umayyad clan while keeping word of the growing unhappiness in the empire from the old man's ears.

But even if Uthman remained oblivious to the rising cries of discontent, word was rapidly spreading to others in Medina, and our alarm at the deteriorating situation began to grow. My brother Muhammad, now a handsome and pa.s.sionate young man, had emigrated to Egypt and had become embroiled in the political strife there. He was an idealistic youth who was ready to fight against injustice wherever he saw it, and his status as the son of Abu Bakr gave him immediate standing among the Egyptians. Within a short time, my brother became a vocal leader of the opposition, and he gained the support of Amr ibn al-As, the revered conqueror of Egypt, whom Uthman had displaced as governor in favor of his own kinsman.

The unrest in Egypt soon boiled over into rioting, during which the Umayyad governors brutally suppressed the protesters. Muhammad sent several letters to Uthman demanding that he address the grievances of the Egyptians, but they quickly disappeared into the void through Marwan's machinations. Convinced that the Caliph had himself become corrupt, my young and idealistic brother led an armed band of rebels to Medina to demand Uthman's resignation.

It was a foolish act, the tactic of a young and misguided man who wanted only to do the right thing. For that, I hope he is one day forgiven. But the one person I cannot forgive in the drama that subsequently unfolded is myself.

I WAS NOW A WAS NOW A woman in my forties and I thought I had gained the wisdom necessary to intervene in these dangerous affairs of state. As word of the uprising in Egypt came from my brother, I went to Uthman to plead with him to replace the corrupt governors who were fomenting chaos. Marwan attempted to deny me an audience, but when I stormed inside Uthman's palatial home, his guards stepped aside, afraid to lay a hand on the Mother of the Believers. woman in my forties and I thought I had gained the wisdom necessary to intervene in these dangerous affairs of state. As word of the uprising in Egypt came from my brother, I went to Uthman to plead with him to replace the corrupt governors who were fomenting chaos. Marwan attempted to deny me an audience, but when I stormed inside Uthman's palatial home, his guards stepped aside, afraid to lay a hand on the Mother of the Believers.

When I saw Uthman, he looked old and very tired. I could see a hint of confusion in his eyes as he looked at me for a long moment. It was as if he did not recognize me, a woman he had known from birth. Even though my face was veiled, my golden eyes still sparkled. But his mind soon cleared and he smiled, his face still beautiful despite the weight of decades. He listened to me patiently for some time, but I could tell that he did not understand what I was saying. And then I realized to my horror that Uthman had absolutely no idea that the situation in Egypt had changed, that there were men marching in the streets of the province calling for the ouster of his appointed envoys. He kept looking to Marwan for confirmation, but that wily rat shrugged as if this were all news to him. At the end of our audience, Uthman politely rose and asked me to give his regards to my mother, Umm Ruman, and all blood drained from my face.

My mother had been dead for over twenty years.

I left the Caliph's manor with dread in the pit of my stomach. Not only was Uthman being manipulated by corrupt officials, he appeared to be suffering from dementia. The future of the empire was at stake and I had to act fast.

I BEGAN TO SPEAK BEGAN TO SPEAK to the elders among the Companions. Talha and Zubayr, who were revered by the community as two of its greatest war heroes, were sympathetic to my concerns but were wary of openly challenging the Caliph. I finally turned in frustration to Ali, who sternly warned me to stay out of political affairs. to the elders among the Companions. Talha and Zubayr, who were revered by the community as two of its greatest war heroes, were sympathetic to my concerns but were wary of openly challenging the Caliph. I finally turned in frustration to Ali, who sternly warned me to stay out of political affairs.

"You are playing with a sharp sword, my Mother," he said. "It is a weapon that could cut you in turn."

My face grew red at what I perceived to be his condescension, and I stormed out of his house. I returned to the Masjid and shared my concerns with the other Mothers, but they all joined Ali and the other elders in warning me to stand back. Ramla was especially caustic in her words, which was no surprise, considering that she was the daughter of Abu Sufyan and a kinsman of Uthman. Umm Salama was kind but firm, saying that our place as the Mothers of the Believers was to teach and nurture the Muslims. Politics was the domain of men. Even Hafsa, who had gone from a bitter rival to a close friend over the years, was nervous and refused to commit herself to supporting me against the Caliph.

Angered by my failure to drum up support among my peers, I decided to turn to the ma.s.ses. I began to appear regularly in the marketplace, standing veiled but proud and calling out to the men to pressure Uthman to step down. It was a dangerous act of rebellion in the heart of the city, and only my honored status as the Prophet's wife kept me from being arrested by the Caliph's men. As I shared my concerns with the people of the city, I lit a fire that I hoped would smoke the old man out of his home and cause him to see the truth of the world. But it became a fire that soon threatened to consume everything I had worked for my entire life.

For my brother Muhammad arrived with hundreds of armed and angry young men from Egypt and the rebellion I had sought to incite suddenly became a terrifying reality.

MUHAMMAD MET WITH ME and explained that he did not seek violence, but he was willing to defend himself and his men. Realizing that my young brother's veins ran hot with the fire of justice and that his emotions were ruling his reason, I tried to mediate. I arranged for a private meeting with the Caliph, who listened patiently to the litany of complaints from the Egyptians-how Umayyad officials were stealing from the local treasury, how wealthy and well-connected criminals were being pardoned in exchange for bribes while the poor suffered the lash, how taxes were being levied unfairly on the populace without their consent. Such behavior might be the norm of other nations, Muhammad argued with pa.s.sion, but we were the servants of G.o.d. If the and explained that he did not seek violence, but he was willing to defend himself and his men. Realizing that my young brother's veins ran hot with the fire of justice and that his emotions were ruling his reason, I tried to mediate. I arranged for a private meeting with the Caliph, who listened patiently to the litany of complaints from the Egyptians-how Umayyad officials were stealing from the local treasury, how wealthy and well-connected criminals were being pardoned in exchange for bribes while the poor suffered the lash, how taxes were being levied unfairly on the populace without their consent. Such behavior might be the norm of other nations, Muhammad argued with pa.s.sion, but we were the servants of G.o.d. If the Ummah Ummah turned a blind eye to injustice, the incredible wealth and power G.o.d had given us would be taken away, turned a blind eye to injustice, the incredible wealth and power G.o.d had given us would be taken away, Uthman nodded throughout the meeting, but his eyes looked glazed and I wondered how much of my brother's speech the old man truly heard or understood. But in the end, the Caliph surprised me by agreeing to Muhammad's request that the Umayyad officials in Egypt be replaced. And then he summoned the wretched Marwan to draft a letter to that effect, removing the Umayyad governor and replacing him with my brother. I saw Marwan's eyes narrow, but he complied. I read over the letter myself to make sure that he had obeyed the Caliph, and I saw no irregularities in it. The parchment was signed by Uthman and sealed in wax with his insignia, and Muhammad rejoiced. He had come to Medina prepared for a fight, and the Caliph had instead given him everything he had asked for.

I was delighted but not completely surprised. Uthman had always been an exceedingly kind and generous man, and in truth, I could not remember him ever denying a request by anyone. Indeed, it was his complete openness that had been the cause of the current scandal, for he had never turned down the request of any man-including those who sought to use him to their advantage.

I embraced my brother and led him back to his men. When they learned that the Caliph had capitulated, there was much rejoicing and a few danced with joy, until stern looks from some of the more pious fellows quickly sobered them all up.

As Muhammad rode back into the desert for the long journey to Egypt, the nation he now ruled, I decided to go to Mecca on Pilgrimage and thank G.o.d for bringing the troubling crisis to a peaceful resolution. As I rode out in my armored howdah, surrounded by the Caliph's finest guards, I did not see a lone rider emerge from the stables and ride north, carrying a secret letter that bore Uthman's seal.

THE ENVOY WAS INTERCEPTED by my brother's men after one of their intrepid sentries realized that they were being followed. They caught the rider and searched him until they found the letter bearing the Caliph's mark. When my brother read the secret dispatch, he turned bright red with rage. For it was a letter purporting to be from Uthman, ordering the governor of Egypt to arrest Muhammad and execute him as a rebel the moment he returned. by my brother's men after one of their intrepid sentries realized that they were being followed. They caught the rider and searched him until they found the letter bearing the Caliph's mark. When my brother read the secret dispatch, he turned bright red with rage. For it was a letter purporting to be from Uthman, ordering the governor of Egypt to arrest Muhammad and execute him as a rebel the moment he returned.

Muhammad's men raced back to the city and immediately laid siege to Uthman's house. I was already on my way to Mecca and was utterly unaware of the horrifying turn of events. I have often thought that the world would be a different place today had I just stayed home a few more days. But such are the pointless musings of regret.

Even as I traveled to the holy city of my birth, blissfully ignorant of the sword that now hung over the Muslim nation, my brother's men proceeded to take control of Medina. They bullied their way into people's homes and took whatever provisions they deemed necessary to support their "holy cause." When other nations later heard about the course of events in the Muslim capital, they must have been shocked that a small band of rebels could have taken over so quickly. And yet there was no standing army inside Medina, as there had been no need for one for the past twenty years. The Muslims ruled the world from horizon to horizon, and the thought that Medina could come under attack had been laughable.

But no one was laughing now. My brother confronted Uthman with the letter and the old man denied any knowledge of it, despite the parchment carrying the Caliph's seal. But Muhammad was not satisfied.

"Then you are either a liar or a puppet being used by others," he retorted. "In either event, you are unworthy to lead Islam."

The gentle Uthman was deeply saddened by these words, perhaps because he heard the ring of truth in them. Of course I have never believed that the Caliph ordered my brother's death. The vile monster Marwan had clearly written the letter, but it would be the old man who was held responsible for it. And perhaps Uthman finally saw the reality of what had happened and his heart had shattered with the realization that he had been duped by a young man he loved like a son. He retired to his home and did not come out again, leaving his fate to G.o.d.

The rebels grew increasingly agitated as the days pa.s.sed and Uthman neither emerged nor responded to their demands for his resignation. It soon became clear that tempers were boiling, and the threat of violence was no longer just an unfortunate possibility. Ali dispatched his sons, Hasan and Husayn, now grown into fine young men, to guard the Caliph's doors, and the presence of the Prophet's grandsons held back the spreading wave of anarchy for a time.

But as the weeks pa.s.sed with no resolution, the Egyptian rebels decided to force the issue. They cut off all delivery of food and water to the elderly Uthman, who was a prisoner in his own home. The Jewess Safiya, my sister-wife, tried to save the beleaguered Caliph. She owned a house that bordered his and she set up a plank on her roof by which she would pa.s.s across food and water to Uthman's young and pretty wife, Naila.

On the forty-ninth day of the siege, a group of men led by my brother stormed the roof of Uthman's house and broke in. The gentle old man sat on the floor in his study, reading the holy Qur'an. He seemed utterly unafraid of the rebels who were ransacking his house, bloodl.u.s.t flowing through their veins. My brother Muhammad, filled with the fire of idealism and pride, finally came upon Uthman and raised his hand to deliver the deathblow. He grabbed the Caliph by his beard, at which point the elderly leader looked up at him and smiled softly.

"Son of my brother," he said, his warm eyes gazing into my brother's soul. "Let go of my beard. Your father would not have done this."

It was a simple statement, said without malice or accusation. And in that instant, his words penetrated my brother's heart and Muhammad fell back, as if waking from a dream. Shame and horror filled him, and he realized how far he had fallen.

My brother turned back, ready to order an end to the attack. But it was too late. Several of his men broke into the room, the bloodl.u.s.t burning wild in their eyes. Seeing the Caliph alone and unarmed, they raced to him, swords raised.

"No!" Muhammad ibn Abu Bakr screamed. But the rebels ignored him and threw their leader aside. And then they descended on the softhearted Uthman, who loved peace and could not bring himself to harm even his enemies. His wife, Naila, threw herself as a s.h.i.+eld on top of her husband, but the rebels sliced off her fingers and tossed her aside like a rag doll. And then they stabbed the Caliph nine times, their blades slicing through his neck, his heart, and his skull with monstrous brutality. Uthman fell over dead, the pages of the holy Qur'an he had so carefully compiled stained with his blood.

Even as I write this, dear Abdallah, tears stain these pages. It was a brutal murder of a good man, and I cannot hide from G.o.d the truth that I share some of the blame. Had I not spoken out against Uthman in public, had I instead used my influence to calm the fire in my young brother's soul, perhaps he would have lived. And I shudder as I remember the terrible words of my husband so long ago, his warning that the sword of G.o.d would be unsheathed against the Muslims should harm ever befall Uthman, a sword that would consume our nation until the Day of Judgment.

May G.o.d forgive me for what I did, for I acted then out of pa.s.sion for justice, even if I was misguided. But for the actions I would take next, Abdallah, I do not know if pardon is possible. What I did in the aftermath of Uthman's murder came out of the blackest pit of my own soul, a crime for which I can never forgive myself, even if G.o.d and the angels grant me reprieve.

7.

I was in Mecca when I first heard the news of the siege of Uthman's home. I had just finished the Pilgrimage, along with my sister-wife Umm Salama, who had joined me. We were planning to return after completing the rituals at the House of G.o.d, when envoys sent by Zubayr advised us to remain in Mecca until the rebellion was over. My heart had sunk when I heard word of my brother's actions, and I desperately sought to return so I could calm him and arrange some kind of reconciliation. But Umm Salama begged me to stay away from the chaos and our guards pointedly refused to permit me to leave until peace had been restored to the capital. was in Mecca when I first heard the news of the siege of Uthman's home. I had just finished the Pilgrimage, along with my sister-wife Umm Salama, who had joined me. We were planning to return after completing the rituals at the House of G.o.d, when envoys sent by Zubayr advised us to remain in Mecca until the rebellion was over. My heart had sunk when I heard word of my brother's actions, and I desperately sought to return so I could calm him and arrange some kind of reconciliation. But Umm Salama begged me to stay away from the chaos and our guards pointedly refused to permit me to leave until peace had been restored to the capital.

The weeks dragged on without word and I began to have a terrible feeling in my heart that things had gone wildly wrong. And then two men rode in from the desert, bearing news that horrified me and brought my blood to a boil. They were not envoys-the matter was too urgent for messengers. They were my closest friends, my beloved cousin Talha and my brother-in-law Zubayr. One look on their ashen faces and my worst fears were confirmed.

We gathered in the old Hall of a.s.sembly, where I had spied on Hind and the council of Mecca a lifetime before. The stone walls looked as they had almost forty years before, cold and proud, untroubled by the vagaries of time. As we sat inside the chamber that had once been the throne room of our enemies, Zubayr revealed all that had happened. His once handsome face was now heavily lined, and a mighty scar ran down his right cheek. Your father had fought in so many battles that I could not even remember where he had earned this mark of heroism.