Yazid, as his successor. He included no mention of
Hussein, doubtless certain that he could persuade Ali’s
younger son into passivity just as he had done the elder.
Since the father had accepted arbitration, and the older
brother abdication, why should the younger brother
behave any diʃerently? Indeed, for another ten years, so
long as Muawiya ruled, he would not. Hussein also knew
how to be patient. Age, after all, was the one thing
Muawiya could not control.
The gout and obesity caused by a lifetime of
indulgence ɹnally caught up with the ɹfth Caliph,
though even in his last days, he made sure to present the
image of someone in ɹrm control. Propped up on
pillows, he had kohl applied around his eyes to make
them livelier and his face oiled to make it shine as
though with vigor. But if vanity ruled the end of his life,
so too did a sudden burst of piety. He instructed that he
be buried in a shirt he said had been given him by
Muhammad himself, a shirt he had kept along with
some of the Prophet’s nail clippings. “Cut up and grind
these nail parings,” he said, “then sprinkle them in my
eyes and in my mouth. Thus God might have mercy on
me by their blessing.”
He died with Yazid by his side and Hussein on his
mind. His last words to his son included a caution:
“Hussein is a weak and insigniɹcant man, but the
people of Iraq will not leave him alone until they make
him rebel. If that happens and you defeat him, pardon