Chapter 15
THE PERSECUTION BEGINS.
"In doing good we are generally cold and languid and sluggish.... But the works of Malice and Injustice are quite in another style."--_Burke._
Among those left dead on the field of Bedr were the father, uncle and brother of Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian. Fierce and savage as was her nature, she was yet capable of deep feeling, and her love for her kindred was one of the ruling passions of her life.
When the caravan at last reached Mecca in safety, she rushed to meet Abu Sofian, weeping wildly, wringing her hands in grief, and throwing dust on her long hair. She besought him frantically to avenge their death, and he, knowing that the debt of "blood revenge" was now upon him, and that blood alone would wipe the stain from his honor, gathered two hundred swift horsemen and set out almost immediately for Medina.
On the way he ravaged the whole country, burning the villages and date-groves of Mohammed's followers.
When within three miles of Medina the prophet sallied out to meet him. A brief contest took place, and Abu Sofian was once more defeated in what was jestingly called the Battle of the Meal Sacks.
The Moslems were exultant over their success, but Abu Sofian returned to Mecca, the blood-dues still unpaid, and with bitter enmity gnawing at his heart.
In the meantime Mohammed began to assume all the airs of an independent sovereign. He married a beautiful maiden, Hafza, to whom he entrusted the care of the Koran, according as it was revealed; and shortly afterwards he issued a decree by which all true believers were ordered to face Mecca when praying. Thus early in his career of conquest he had fixed upon Mecca as the future holy city of the Moslems. As usual, the Koran was called in to authorize him in thus fixing the Kebla, or point of prayer.
"Unto God belongeth the East and the West. He directeth whom he pleaseth in the right way. Turn, therefore, thy face towards the holy temple of Mecca; and wherever ye be, turn your faces towards that place."
At this time also he sanctioned the retaining of the holy fast of Ramadhan and the pilgrimages connected therewith. As he was well aware that the doing away with the great bazar upon which the prosperity of Mecca so largely depended would loose a host of enemies upon him, he declared:
"O true believers, a fast is ordained you, as it was ordained unto them before you, that ye may fear God. The month of Ramadhan shall ye fast, in which the Koran was sent down from heaven, a direction unto men."
Henceforth, during the fast, all true believers were to abstain from eating or drinking, and from all earthly pleasures, while the sun shone above the horizon and until the lamps at the mosques were lighted by the Imaums. It is needless to say that the Moslems obviated this self-sacrifice by sleeping during the day as much as possible, giving the night up to all the proscribed indulgences of the interdicted season.
And now Mohammed's hatred to the Jews began to show itself, and the awful persecution of the little Jewish band in Medina commenced.
Poor Dumah was one of the first to bring the rod of wrath upon himself. When wandering down the street one day, not very long after the Battle of Bedr, he paused by a well, just as Mohammed, accompanied by his faithful Zeid, appeared in the way. Dumah saw them and at once began to sing his thoughts in a wild, irregular lament. His voice was peculiarly sweet and clear, and every word reached the ear of the enraged prophet. The song was a weird lament over those slain at Bedr:
"They are fallen, the good are fallen, Low in the dust they are fallen; And their hair is steeped in blood; But the poison-wind shrieks above them, Sighing anon like the cushat, And breathing its curses upon him, Upon him, the chief of impostors. As he passes the leaflets tremble, And the flowers shrink from his pathway; And the angels smile not upon him, For he maketh the widow and orphan; And the voice of Rachel riseth In mourning loud for her children. And no comfort doth fall upon her. Soft like the balm of Gilead."
Turning to one of his followers, Mohammed commanded angrily:
"Seize that singer!"
Dumah heard the exclamation, and was off like the wind, followed by two or three Moslems, each anxious to secure the victim first, and thus win the approval of the august Mohammed.
On, on, straight to the house of Amzi fled Dumah. Bursting open the door, he rushed in, his long hair disordered, his face purple with running and his eyes wide with terror.
"Save me, Yusuf! Save me, Amzi!" he cried. "Mohammed will kill me! Mohammed will kill me!"
Yusuf sprang to the door, and the poor fugitive threw himself at Amzi's feet, clinging to his garments with his thin, white hands.
But the pursuers were already upon him. Yusuf strove in vain to detain them, to reason with them.
"Can you not see he is a poor artless lad? Can you not have mercy?" he cried.
"It is the order of the prophet of Allah!" was the response.
Yusuf resisted their entrance with all his might, but, unarmed as he was, he was quickly thrown down, and the terrified Dumah was dragged over his body and hurried off to be put in chains in a Moslem cell.
Amzi was distracted. There seemed little hope for Dumah. The small Jewish band then in Medina could not dare to cope with the overwhelming numbers of Moslems that swarmed in the streets. If Dumah were delivered it must be by stratagem; and yet what stratagem could be employed?
Early in the evening Amzi and the priest withdrew to the roof for consultation.
"You believe that your God is all-powerful--why do you not beseech him for our poor lad's safety?" cried Amzi passionately.
"I have not ceased to do so since his capture," returned Yusuf. "But it must be as the Lord willeth. He sees what is best. Even our blessed Jesus said to the Father, 'Not my will, but thine be done.'"
Amzi was not satisfied. "Can he then be the God of Love that you say, if he could look upon the death of that poor innocent nor exercise his power to save him?"
"Amzi, I do not wonder at you for speaking thus. Yet consider. We will hope the best for our poor singer. May God preserve him and enable us, as instruments in his hands, to deliver him. But God may see differently from us in this matter. Who can say that to die would not be gain to poor Dumah? All witless as he is, he shall have a perfect mind and a perfect body in the bright hereafter. We know not what is well. We can only pray and do all in our power to effect his deliverance; we must leave the issue to God."
Amzi bowed his head on his hands and groaned. Yusuf raised his eyes towards heaven; the tears rolled down his cheeks, and his lips moved. Even he could not understand the mysteries of this strange time. Yet he was constantly comforted in knowing that "all things work together for good to them that love God."
Saddest of all was the vision of the handsome, dark face that, contorted in the fury of combat, had glared upon him from the Moslem ranks in the Battle of Bedr, while Manasseh's hand showered blows upon the head of his best friend--for the sake of the prophet of Islam.
"Manasseh! Manasseh!" he exclaimed in bitter sadness. "Why hast thou forsaken thy father's God? O heavenly Father, do thou guide him and lead him again into thy paths!"