a force returning from a mission to the Yemen. He had
been successful: Yemenite opposition to Muhammad had
been quelled, and taxes and tribute paid. Celebration was
in the air. It was the perfect time, it seemed, for
Muhammad to honor his former protégé, now a mature
man of thirty-ɹve, a warrior returning with mission
accomplished.
That evening, after they had watered the camels and
horses, after they had cooked and eaten and chosen
sleeping places under the palms, Muhammad ordered a
raised platform made out of palm branches with camel
saddles placed on top—a kind of makeshift desert pulpit
—and at the end of the communal prayer he climbed on
top of it. With that ɻair for the dramatic gesture for
which he was famed, he called on Ali to climb onto the
pulpit alongside him, reaching out his hand to help the
younger man up. Then he raised Ali’s hand high in his
own, forearm pressed along forearm in the traditional
gesture of allegiance, and in front of the thousands of
people gathered below them, he honored the younger
man with a special benediction.
“He of whom I am the master, of him Ali is also the
master,” he said. “God be the friend of he who is his
friend, and the enemy of he who is his enemy.”
It seemed clear enough at the time. Certainly Omar
thought it was. He came up to Ali and congratulated
him. “Now morning and evening you are the master of