172 No god but God
Husayn ordered them to kneel in a tight formation with their lances
pointing out, so that when the enemy horses neared, they would be
forced by the flames to squeeze into the entrance of the trap.
This simple strategy allowed Husayn’s tiny force to repel the
thirty thousand soldiers of the Caliph for six long days. But on the sev-
enth day, the Syrian army changed tactics. Rather than trying to storm
the camp again, they shifted their lines to blockade the banks of the
Euphrates, cutting off Husayn’s supply of water.
Now the time for fighting is over. Sitting high atop their armored
horses, the Caliph’s soldiers make no move toward Husayn. Their
swords are sheathed, their bows slung over their shoulders.
It has been three days since the canals stopped flowing into
Husayn’s camp; those few who haven’t already lost their lives in battle
are now slowly, painfully dying of thirst. The ground is littered with
bodies, including those of Husayn’s eighteen-year-old son, Ali Akbar,
and his fourteen-year-old nephew, Qasim—the son of his elder brother,
Hasan. Of the seventy-two companions who were to march with
Husayn from Medina to Kufa in order to raise an army against Yazid,
only the women and a few children remain, along with one other man:
Husayn’s sole surviving son, Ali, though he lies near death inside the
women’s tent. All the others are buried where they fell, their bodies
wrapped in shrouds, their heads pointing toward Mecca. The wind stirs
their shallow graves, carrying the stench of rot across the flat plain.
Alone, exhausted, and seriously wounded, Husayn collapses at the
entrance to his tent. An arrow is lodged deep in his arm; a dart pierces
his cheek. He is parched and dizzy from loss of blood. Wiping the
sweat from his eyes, he lowers his head and tries to ignore the wails of
the women in the adjoining tent: they have just buried his infant son,
who was struck in the neck by an arrow after Husayn carried him up a
hill to beg the Syrian troops for water. Their anguish penetrates him
deeper than any arrow, but it also stiffens his resolve. There is now
nothing left to do but finish the task for which he had set out from
Medina. He must gather what strength he has left to lift himself off
the ground. He must stand up and fight against the injustice and
tyranny of the Caliph, even if it means sacrificing his life—especially if
it means sacrificing his life.