between us and our rule.” After all, why ban the
nickname? The famed image of Hind cramming
Hamza’s liver into her mouth worked to his advantage.
Any son of such a mother could inspire not just fear but
respect, and Muawiya commanded both. Except from
Ali.
From the moment he had been acclaimed Caliph, Ali
was intent on a clear and radical break with Othman’s
regime. To that end, he’d ordered Othman’s provincial
governors to return to Medina, and they all had, with the
sole exception of Muawiya. The only response from Da
mascus had been an echoing silence. Muawiya had no
intention of being deposed by Ali. In fact quite the
reverse.
Ali’s aides warned that Muawiya would not fall into
line unless he was reaɽrmed as governor. Rather than
threaten him, they said, Ali should play politics. Leave
Muawiya in place and sweet-talk him with promises,
they urged, and they would take matters from there. “If
you persuade him to give you allegiance, I will
undertake to topple him,” one of his top generals had
promised. “I swear I will take him to the desert after a
watering, and leave him staring at the backside of things
whose front side he has no idea of. Then you will incur
neither loss nor guilt.”
Ali would have none of it. “I have no doubt that what