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.”
“That defeat was an act of revenge for the Muslim victory at the great battle of Hittin just over two decades earlier. Any hope of bringing al-Andalus back under the standard of Islam received its terminal blow when the Marini sultan, Abu al-Hasan, was defeated at Tarifah by the twin monarchs, Alfonso of Castille and Alfonso of Portugal, in 740. At one stroke, that defeat turned the Marini campaigns from jihad into short, uncoordinated raids. Now even the Banu al-Ahmar in Granada are keen to see them stopped, even if it means negotiating with the enemy forces.”
“Those Banu al-Ahmar, just like all the other petty kingdoms, have neither minds nor guts. Ibn Sharaf has their number when he says, ‘Using the term monarch in the wrong place is like a cat puffing itself up and pretending to be a lion.’”
“Dear friend, it was four decades ago that the ruler of Granada, Muhammad V, received me in the Alhambra Palace. Both he and his superb minister, Lisan al-Din ibn al-Khatib, spared absolutely no effort in welcoming and feting me. Thereafter he commissioned me to visit Pedro Alfonso in Seville, my own forebears’ native city in al-Andalus. The purpose of the visit was to persuade the king of Seville to support the Granadan ruler in his war against his enemy, the king of Aragon. I was pleased, indeed keen, to accept the commission, not least because I was very worried by the possibility that the kingdoms of Seville and Aragon might see it as being in their best interests to unite, thus turning it into yet another regrettable episode in the Muslim history of al-Andalus. While I was visiting Pedro in Seville (whom his people dubbed ‘the Cruel’ and we named ‘the Tyrant’), I saw from afar the mosque of Seville, which the Christians had converted into a church, and strolled through the gardens and along the banks of the River al-Wadi al-Kabir. Pondering the sad decline of Muslim rule in al-Andalus, I was overcome by profound feelings of melancholy and regret. At one point, Pedro the Tyrant obviously realized the way I was feeling (I had just returned from a visit to my ancestors’ homes). In a typically generous and regal fashion, he offered them all to me if I would agree to join his court. I declined his offer with apologies. In my heart of hearts I whispered in the ear of this cruel and debauched tyrant, so fond of war, money, and trinkets, that all the chattels of a life on this earth lived in his shadow were not worth a gnat’s wing to me. God alone was the victor. . ”
“My friend,” said Burhan al-Din, “I’ve no doubt at all that the tyrant of this era of ours, Timur the Mongolian, will make you exactly the same offer, to go back with him to Samarqand in exchange for whatever your heart desires. And I’m equally certain that you will give him the same reply you gave the Sevillian tyrant.”
“Islam has nothing to fear from Timur and the Mongols, Burhan al-Din. Like the Mamluks and many other groups, they have adopted Islam too, albeit in their own particular fashion. No, it is in al-Andalus that Islam faces its greatest threat. The Christians are constantly gaining ground, using their superior power and the knowledge we’ve passed on to them. Should they be victorious and gain control of the entire peninsula, they will not hesitate to kill Muslims and give them the choice of either evacuating en masse or else converting to Christianity. Beyond that even, they’ll start harassing them at Maghribi coasts and ports. Dark storm clouds are rapidly gathering over Western Islam. O God, we beg Your forgiveness and mercy!”
Both men said amen to that, and then looked down at Damascus and al-Ghuta spread out beneath them, with light and shade alternating on the glistening rows of grasses, plants, and trees.