“What about the new post you’re being offered, Wali al-Din?”
“I do not need it. Tell them to sell it off as they did with my judgeship. The state treasury needs all the money it can get for the war against the Tatars. Beyond that, the Maliki rite has now become an orphan in this land of Egypt, rendered irrelevant by the corruption of centuries-old customs and spurned by the influential and wealthy classes. But tell me, Yashbak, what news of Timur?”
“Very bad, very bad indeed. Timur has occupied Anatolia and destroyed Siwas. Today he’s making his way across Syria toward Damascus itself. The situation is dangerous, Wali al-Din, and extremely critical. In my role as dawadar and army marshal I’ve advised the sultan to send his army to Damascus to prevent it falling into Mongol hands. Damascus is in effect our easternmost gateway. If it falls — God forbid — Egypt is wide open to the final catastrophe. Several army commanders share this view, but not the majority of them. The entire situation now is marked by dithering; I’m doing my very best to get things changed, so help me God! I’ve suggested to Faraj that he take judges with him in his retinue, with you at the very head of the list.”
“I’m grateful to you for your consideration, but my age no longer permits me to travel long distances.”
“The place we’re heading for is not far away, Wali al-Din. No one is going to view your non-participation with any sort of compassion or understanding. Take the next two days to think things over carefully. That’s all the time you have before the middle of the month of the Prophet’s birthday; that’s when we’re scheduled to leave. Once you’ve made up your mind, let me know.”
That said, the dawadar got up to leave and bid ‘Abd al-Rahman farewell with a great deal of affection and respect.
When ‘Abd al-Rahman brought up this subject with his wife, there was much wailing. Umm al-Batul begged her husband to stay by her side. War, she said, was for soldiers. How was he supposed to explain to her that he longed to meet the Mongol lord and talk with him? How could he convince her of the significance of the coming battle and his desire to witness its different phases? All his eloquent phrases came up against her simple, naïve expressions of concern. He reminded her that she was bound to obey him. In response she threatened that, if he left them and went to war, she would take their daughter back with her to Fez. It was eventually left to Sha‘ban to bring the dispute to an end. He was the only one who knew how to calm Umm al-Banin’s worries and persuade his master to treat his wife gently.
Many were the hours that ‘Abd al-Rahman spent thinking about the attraction he felt toward the Timur phenomenon, in spite of all the dangers and hardships involved. Lying in bed he decided that, if he were to travel to Damascus as part of al-Nasir Faraj’s retinue (assuming that it actually happened), his motivation would not be a desire to support the Mamluk dynasty but simply his own intellectual curiosity and an eagerness on his part to be an eyewitness. Once the era of the Rightly-Guided Caliphs had come to an end, any notion of legitimate hegemony had been sheer fancy and pretense. It had all been activated on the tips of swords and spears. Only people willing to be duped by professional manipulators and genealogical trickers would ever be taken in by it. He had said as much many years earlier, and he continued to weigh its validity as he observed the ‘Abbasi caliphate today, in all its feeble finery, being preserved by the Mamluks in fancy cages. There would be times when he felt that aspirants to monarchical rule need no longer be either white- or yellow-complexioned; neither round- nor slanty-eyed, just so long as everyone claimed to be a Muslim and to be protecting its essence and sanctum. So then, here he was, ready to travel to the very frontiers of raging conflict with neither weapon nor cause, on his way to assess the heat of history in one of its more troublesome byways; going with the primary intention of providing a portrait of the conflict and plotting its course on the chart of cataclysms and transformations in kingdoms and thrones.
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.