confrontation. Some spoke out in favor of Hussein, who
stood by his brother’s bier at the head of the procession;
others were in favor of Aisha, who sat ɹrm on her mule,
unbudging. One of her nephews tried to defuse the
situation with humor. “Oh aunt,” he said, “we are still
washing our beards from the Battle of the Red Camel,
and you would now have people speak of the Battle of
the Gray Mule?” But as the dispute grew more heated
and threatened to get physical, it was Hussein who
found a way to save face for all concerned.
It was true that his brother had asked to be buried
alongside his grandfather the Prophet, he said, but the
request had come with a proviso: “unless you fear evil.”
Since evil was now to be feared in the form of a ɹght at
a funeral, Hussein gave the order to divert the procession
to the cemetery. Instead of being buried alongside
Muhammad, Hasan would lie next to his mother,
Fatima.
And so it was done. Nobody would ever know for sure
whether it was at Muawiya’s command or Aisha’s
insistence, but to place the blame on Aisha was certainly
an excellent way to divert it from Muawiya. The bold
and irrepressible leader of the Mothers of the Faithful
was no longer beyond reproach.
The ɹre was still there, but only in sparks. “Are you
not afraid I will poison you in revenge for the death of
my brother Muhammad Abu Bakr?” she once asked