Whoever places his trust in you is duped. Whoever draws
you, draws a useless lot. You have ɹlled my heart with
pus and lined my breast with anger. By God, knowing
you has brought in its wake nothing but grief and
sorrow. If I did not desire to die in God’s cause, I would
not remain with you one more day.”
And indeed, he had few days yet to come.
It happened at dawn on Friday, January 26, in the
year 661, midway through the monthlong fast of
Ramadan. Ali had walked to the mosque in Kufa for the
ɹrst prayer of the day. He never saw the armed man
lurking in the shadow of the main entrance, not until
the raised sword glistened above him in the early light
and he heard the Rejectionist cry coming from his
attacker’s lips: “Judgment belongs to God alone, Ali! To
God alone!”
The sword blow knocked him to the ground and
gashed his head open. “Do not let that man escape,” he
shouted as he fell, and worshipers rushed out of the
mosque and caught hold of his assailant.
Ali remained lucid even as the blood ran down his face
and people began to panic at the sight. There was to be
no call for revenge, he said. “If I live, I shall consider
what to do with this man who attacked me. If I die, then
inɻict on him blow for blow. But none shall be killed but
him. Do not plunge into the blood of Muslims saying
‘The Commander of the Faithful has been killed!’ And do