by Asen Djinah
So Khalid delayed sending an answer back and kept the Vahan in the dark about his intentions. The day passed without any fighting, with Khalid reorganising his men and finalising his strategy with his commanders.
Khalid merged all his cavalry units, including the mobile unit, into one large division and personally took command of this single, powerful force of nearly fifteen thousand horsemen. As he prepared his men to launch his first and only offensive, Khalid was aware that this was his only gambit; if his plan were to fail, defeat and death would be certain.
‘If we do not defeat the enemy in this one attack, we will inevitably lose, since Vahan still has two fresh reserve cavalry units. I am asking every one of you to fight for one last time and to give everything you have. The lives of all civilians across the empire are in our hands,’ Khalid told them as he went around the camp and addressed the men directly.
Behind the Byzantine camp was the deep Ruqqad ravine, with only one bridge to cross over. Weeks before the battle, he had sent a unit of three hundred men to the area with the mission to disrupt the enemy supply lines. During the night he dispatched a rider down the Jabiya road, with orders for the unit to guard the bridge and cut off any possible retreat by the Byzantine army. On the left, the Yarmouk River with its steep banks would trap fleeing enemy troops. He himself intended to block the only remaining escape route along the Jabiya road with his large cavalry force.
Well before dawn, the Arabian fighters woke up and began to get ready for the final day of battle in total silence. With Vahan still waiting for an answer to his proposal, Khalid ordered a surprise attack by all his four divisions on the Byzantines. He gave specific instructions to Yazid to advance his south flank division as far forward as possible to create a diversion and distract the enemy. Caught by surprise by the unexpected attack, the Byzantines were slow to react as Khalid’s men pounced upon them. Yazid made significant progress forward against the chained soldiers. Seeing this, Vahan’s attention became focused on the left side of the battlefield. With this distraction in place, Khalid led his massive group of horsemen round the right flank by the Jabiya road. He left a small part of his force to attack the enemy flank while he led the remaining horsemen to attack the rear. With their long spears they quickly caused significant casualties, triggering great confusion within the Byzantine ranks. Khalid and the rest of the mounted force then galloped to attack the northern Byzantine cavalry unit. Being lighter and more mobile than the heavily armoured cataphract, the large number of horsemen quickly overwhelmed the enemy horses, routing them off the battlefield. When he eventually noticed Khalid’s cavalry movement, Vahan quickly ordered his two rested cavalry units to neutralise them. But before his heavy horsemen could organise themselves into formation, Khalid and his men pounced on them mercilessly, killing many and driving the rest of the horsemen into their own foot soldiers, adding to the disarray.
Seeing the confusion and panic among the Byzantine soldiers, now left unprotected without any cavalry support, the Arabian soldiers fell upon them with renewed vigour. Khalid’s surprise attack completely destroyed the entire Byzantine cavalry units, with most of the enemy horsemen killed. The rest, driven off the battlefield, were only too happy to escape; seeing the confusion on the battleground, the remaining horsemen had no inclination to regroup. With all the Byzantine cavalry units out of action, Khalid directed his men to attack the rear of the Byzantine centre divisions. Caught in the two-prong attack, with horsemen at the rear and the Arabian infantry at the front, the two divisions were separated from the rest of the army and surrounded on all sides. Amr’s division and the small group of horsemen, having already destroyed the northern Byzantine flank, shifted their attention to the central division next to them. Seeing this, Khalid moved his men to the two remaining southern divisions to support Yazid’s men and again attacked the enemy from behind. When he saw that victory was now inevitable, he turned to Al-Qaqa.
‘Take your mobile unit and ride back to the Jabiya road. I want you to block the only route of escape,’ he told him.
The Byzantines were trapped and unable to cross the blockaded bridge. Many jumped into the steep ravine to escape certain death from the advancing Arabian army. On the southern side, many flung themselves into the Yarmouk River, only to be smashed on the rocks below. Still a number of fighters managed to escape; Vahan and a group of officers had already escaped north with a large escort just before Al-Qaqa arrived to block the Jabiya road.
‘Amr, I want you to take command of the battlefield and finish the job. I am going after Vahan,’ Khalid told his commander once he was certain the battle had been won.
Khalid personally led his horsemen in pursuit of Vahan. Every time he caught up with a group of enemy soldiers at the rear of the escaping group, he and his men showed no mercy. Slowly the Byzantine rearguard became depleted and two days later, Khalid finally caught up with the main group of the retreating men. His two cavalry units surrounded the group of Vahan’s horsemen and during the ensuing fight, the Byzantine commander was killed.
Against all odds, Khalid and his army had not only defeated the Byzantines, but had completely obliterated their entire army.
Chapter 12
The crowd in Qadday’s market square booed as a dozen performers dressed as Byzantine soldiers stepped into the large circle of spectators. Being previously part of the wider Roman Empire, Byzantine soldiers had the same dress code as Roman soldiers; the actors wore metal upper body armour, consisting of strips of metal held together by leather straps over their red woollen tunic. A metal helmet helped to protect their face, head and neck, while they also sported a pair of caligae – heavy soled sandals. As they moved around theatrically, swinging their wooden swords aggressively, the crowd jeered and shouted insults at them.
‘Go to hell, you black-faced dogs,’ a man called out.
A second man took off his slipper and threw it at the group. Others followed suit and soon there was a shower of footwear falling on the shocked actors. Being shown the sole of a slipper was in itself a terrible insult, but being hit by one was even worse. Another smaller group of five performers, dressed plainly as Arabian soldiers, joined the group in the circle and the crowd burst out in a loud cheer.
‘Aiqtalhum – Kill them. Kill the Roman dogs,’ one of the spectators shouted.
The others joined him and started to chant ‘Aiqtalhum, Aiqtalhum, Aiqtalhum…’
With the Byzantine soldiers moving in slow motion, as in a choreographed dance, the Arabian soldiers rushed onto to them and the mock fighting began, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
‘Aiqtalhum, Aiqtalhum, Aiqtalhum…’
Each time a Byzantine soldier fell to the ground theatrically, the crowd roared and applauded until only the Arabian soldiers were left standing. The crowd rushed forward and lifted them onto their shoulders to parade around the square.
‘We are victorious. We have defeated the Roman infidels,’ they chanted.
Taking the opportunity, the Byzantine soldiers quickly got to their feet and stepped to the corner of the square where they had left their clothing. They hurriedly got rid of their costumes, scared that the crowd might get carried away and attack them for real.
On the opposite side of the square, a number of acrobats were performing. The group included a tightrope walker, a fire-eater and a snake charmer, as well as several gymnasts performing all kinds of somersaults. The watching crowd consisted mostly of families and children. In yet another corner of the square, a quieter group of older spectators sat cross-legged on the bare ground, listening to poets praising the courage of the Arabian fighters. Poetry was the spirit of their culture, where the inclination to poetic language was deeply rooted. Not only was the poet the voice of his tribe, but he also kept an oral record of tribal history of lineage, births, deaths and battles. All important events were recorded in verse and transmitted from one generation to the next. With the news of the unexpected victory, poets across the desert had gathered in the square, no
t only to praise, but also to put on record the various events of the recent triumph over the Byzantines. Undoubtedly, many of the poems were about the courage of father and son, Ikrimah and Umar and the four hundred warriors who gave their lives for the survival of the empire. The audience was in awe as they listened to the account of Ikrimah and his men rushing into the heart of the enemy and fighting to their death, allowing their comrades to regroup and avoid certain defeat.
‘“Wounded by a spear in his right shoulder, he did not stop;
Valiantly he fought on as he shifted his sword to his left hand
One by one, each of the enemy fell like a rain drop.
‘Move behind me’ to his son was his command,
And when the wounded Umar lying on the ground bled
‘We will meet in Paradise,’ Ikrimah said”,’ one poet recited.
The crowd nodded, teary-eyed as they pictured the last moment of Ikrimah and his son.
‘“As father and son lay dying on the ground
Their heads side by side, facing one another
Looking one last time in each other’s eyes, thirsty and parched they felt.
Miraculously a spring appeared in the sandy soil between their two faces;
Cool water flowed out and they drank until satiated.
When their souls finally left their bodies to enter Paradise
The spring of water slowly gurgled to a stop and dried”,’ another poet narrated.
The crowd listened intently as tears rolled down their faces. The selflessness and sacrifice of the fighters had saved the empire.
‘Praise be to God,’ the poet said after his recital, ‘Indeed, God rewards those who give their life to His cause.’
‘Praise be to God,’ the crowd replied in chorus.
Stands had been set up at regular intervals and food was freely available to the general public and the many visitors to Qadday. Wealthy families had arranged for large pots of different types of food to be prepared. People were swarming from one station to another to taste the various steaming dishes. Every now and then the servants rushed back to get a new load of freshly cooked food and flatbreads to feed the crowd, which was growing larger as the celebrations continued. Children were running around, holding out their hands and thrilled whenever someone slipped them a coin instead of the sweets or cakes they expected to receive.
‘Look, I have been given another copper coin,’ one boy boasted to his envious friends.
Men and women had donned their festive clothes and walked around aimlessly, enjoying the joyful atmosphere. Strangers stopped and embraced each other for no other reason other than to share the joy of victory.
‘We have the strongest army in the world.’
‘Is it true that the enemy was twice as many as our fighters?’
Green flags were hanging in windows, adding to the festive atmosphere in Qadday. Although there were similar celebrations taking place across every town in the territory, it was the town of Qadday that attracted the most visitors; everyone wanted to hear from Caliph Omar.
‘Have you heard the rumour that Caliph Omar himself would be leading the funeral prayers for those who had been martyred?’ one man asked those around him.
‘Yes. I also heard that Commander-in-Chief Khalid will be returning with some of his men tomorrow,’ someone replied.
Everyone wanted to hear from their beloved caliph as well as getting a glimpse of the great commander-in-chief, their very own ‘Drawn Sword of God’.
News of the Arabian victory over the Byzantines had spread across the empire and in every town the population gathered to celebrate. Nomads from the desert and others from nearby villages headed for the nearest town. There was an air of joy and euphoria, as well as utter relief among the population. Religious guards holding the four corners of a large woollen sheet were going through the crowd and the surrounding streets.
‘Donate generously as we have many widows and orphans of soldiers fallen in battle,’ they called out as they collected the donations.
Everyone was feeling generous and threw silver and gold coins onto the woollen sheet.
‘I don’t have any money. Can I give my cooking pot?’ an old woman said, willing to part with her only valuable possession.
When the general population had been informed of the Byzantine threat, a few months earlier, there had been a sense of apprehension and gloom. Never before had they faced such a terrible threat and after hearing about the huge gathering of the Byzantines, panic spread amongst the population. Families made preparations for women and children to flee to the mountains in the west or to al-Yaman in the south if their country were invaded.
‘The Byzantines are cold-blooded and ruthless. We have to protect our family. I am sending my wife and children into the desert. The Byzantines will not go into the Rub’ al Kali – the Empty Quarter as they will not be able to survive the treacherous desert,’ one man told his neighbour.
Scholars and imams had galvanised the population into making voluntary donations. Reports of the Holy Prophet’s saying about the six rewards for martyrdom had been greatly publicised after prayers every day in the mosques across the country, to motivate all able men to join and bolster the army.
‘A lifetime of prayer and charity will not be enough to bring you the rewards that martyrdom gives,’ the imams had said.
‘Not only will you enter Paradise, but you will be able to ask for members of your family to join you when they will eventually pass away.’
‘Even if you are only slightly wounded, the flow of blood will wash away all your sins.’
Young men, as well as veterans of previous wars, had rushed forward to put their names down. With such short preparation time, they had gone through only minimal training and were armed with only the basic weaponry. When the forty-thousand-strong army marched north, the wives and children had seen them off thinking that this would be the last time they would be seen alive. Since then, everyone had been waiting in fear and apprehension for news from the battlefield.
When news of the unexpected victory reached them, no words could describe the sense of relief everyone felt.
Chapter 13
‘H
abibi, Habibi, Habibi,’ the crowd chanted tirelessly.
Since early morning, men and women had started to gather in the palace square, slowly at first. But by mid-morning, the entire open space was completely filled with an excited mob. Men held the children on their shoulders so that they could have an unobstructed view of the palace gates. They began chanting the caliph’s name, to urge him to come out and address them.
‘Habibi, Habibi, Habibi.’
The guards at the gates were doubled, while another group was called to maintain a path through the crowd for official visitors to gain access to the palace. As the members of distinguished families walked through the gathering, they were stopped by enthusiastic men in the crowd who wanted to congratulate them and pat them on the back.
‘Shukran – Thank you for your contribution. We have been victorious, thanks to the bravery of our men and your help,’ one man said as he grabbed an old man and hugged him.
Everyone was aware that the wealthy families had contributed generously towards the financing of the greatest of battles. Moreover, urged by Caliph Omar, they had publicly pledged that they would further contribute towards the widows and orphans fund in the future.
‘Have no fear. If you were to become incapacitated or martyred, we will look after your wife and children,’ Caliph Omar had decreed.
When the news of the victory reached him, Omar had immediately summoned the eminent families, land owners and wealthy merchants to the palace. As they walked through the gates, the wealthy visitors were ushered into the hall used as the Court of Justice, where they would be meeting with the caliph. Every one of them was looking forward to congratulate the beloved leader personally on this incredible victory. The atmosphere was jubilant as they fully appreciated that they had the most to lose had the war b
een lost. Not only had their wealth remained intact, but they were also relieved that their families were safe. They would easily make up the money that they had contributed towards the war over the next few years.
The sun was high in the sky and it was getting uncomfortably hot. The guards, overwhelmed by this impromptu gathering at the palace, did not know what to do.
‘Unless the caliph comes out to address the crowd and make them go away, we will have a number of casualties on our hands. Very soon individuals will collapse under the scorching sun,’ the chief guard warned an official.
In turn, the official passed the guard’s concern to Grand Vizier Jaffar, who was busy welcoming the guests. The palace cooks had prepared refreshments and snacks for the guests, who were happy to entertain themselves while waiting for Caliph Omar to appear.
‘It is too hot to let them stay in the oppressing heat and the guards are right to be worried. I am going to ask them to come back later in the evening,’ the grand vizier told Kateb who was by his side.
Leaving Kateb and the other officials in charge, Jaffar went out to address the crowd in an attempt to convince them to leave the square.
On seeing Jaffar at the gates, the crowd erupted in a loud cheer. Even though it was Caliph Omar they wanted to see, they were pleased that someone had finally responded to their request.
‘Jaffar, Jaffar, Jaffar,’ someone began to call out and the rest of the crowd joined in.
Having never heard his name being chanted before, the experience made Jaffar feel light-headed. He raised his right hand and the chanting slowly died down. He suddenly realised that he had not arranged for callers and hoped the guards on duty would have the presence of mind to relay his speech throughout the huge crowd.
