be resolved, it would not be by force. None of them
would give the order to strike the ɹrst blow. So in the
words of one warrior, “when they retired to bed that
night, there was peace. They slept as they never had
before, because they were free from what they had been
on the point of doing, and had withdrawn their plans for
battle.”
But while they slept, he continued, others did not. “At
the same time, those who had stirred up the question of
Othman spent the worst night of their lives, for now
they were about to be brought to account. All night they
were busy in discussion until they decided on a surprise
attack. They kept it secret, slipped out of the camp before
dawn, and attacked at first light.”
It was never clear exactly who they were. Were they
Marwan’s men, setting oʃ the ɹght, as they had the day
Othman was assassinated? Were they acting under
orders from Aisha, dismayed at Talha’s and Zubayr’s
retreat from confrontation? Or were they simply young
hotheads, as most prefer to believe, primed for battle and
with that supreme disdain of youth for death? The
accounts are confused, as battle accounts always are. A
small group, certainly, but the smallest group can set
huge armies into motion. Three or four men can do it
easily. The clanging of steel rises from a single sector,
curses and battle cries carry through the still air of early
morning, and suddenly thousands are involved. In the
terror and desperation of battle, there is no time for