cousin. “I ask you by God to return,” he wrote. “The
hearts of the Iraqis may be with you, but I fear their
swords belong to Yazid.” Hussein merely registered the
warning and kept going.
The following day brought a message from none other
than the governor of Mecca. Risking his position, even
his life, he gave Hussein his personal guarantee of “safe
conduct, kindness, generosity, and protection” if he
would only return to Mecca. But all Hussein would say
in response was: “The best guarantee of safe conduct is
that of God.”
Besides, his numbers were growing. As his small
caravan crossed over the jagged Hijaz mountains and
into the high desert steppeland of northern Arabia, their
pace timed to arrive at least every other night at a
watering place—a well or at least a small shallow spring
—word of their journey preceded them. Tribal warriors
joined their ranks, roused by the idea of Hussein’s
reclaiming power for Arabia. By the end of the ɹrst week
of the three-week journey, the original seventy-two
warriors had swelled to several hundred. By the time
they reached Iraq they would surely be an army.
Yet still the messages kept coming, each one a
warning to beware of Iraq. Each time Hussein
acknowledged it as “good and reasonable advice,” and
each time he ignored it. And then came the message that
was surely impossible to ignore.