Kab stood perfectly still as the cloaked men approached him. He glanced up at the walls above. Archers were hidden in the turrets, ready to take action at his signal. If his message had indeed been intercepted by Muhammad’s men and these two were assassins sent to even the score, the matter would be dealt with quickly.
The cloaked men stopped ten feet before the chieftain. And then the shorter one spoke, his voice rich and wonderfully familiar.
“You can tell your men to stand down,” Huyayy ibn Akhtab said. “Unless they want to do the enemy’s work for them.”
Kab smiled and raised his left hand. Although there was no sound from the turrets above, he knew that his men had lowered their weapons. And then he turned to greet the newcomers.
Huyayy removed his cloak and embraced Kab warmly. The chief of the Bani Nadir nodded to his companion, who pulled off his hood, revealing the aging but still regal features of the Meccan lord Abu Sufyan.
The Arab greeted the Jew with a sardonic smile.
“It is a changed world where old friends must meet with such intrigue,” Abu Sufyan said.
Kab took Abu Sufyan by the hand and led him toward the mighty gates of the fortress, which sung aside with a harsh groan.
“Then it is time to change the world back,” he said.
IT WAS NEARLY FIRST light before the iron gates thundered open again. The three men emerged from a night of negotiations that had not gone as Kab had expected. His offer to work with the Confederates had been welcomed, but Abu Sufyan had sought to place the burden of risk on the Bani Qurayza’s shoulders. The Arab chieftain had asked for the Jews to take Muhammad by surprise and attack from the rear. Once the warriors of the Qurayza had spread chaos through the oasis, forcing the defenders to leave their places at the trench, the Confederates would traverse the barrier and come to Kab’s aid.
It was a tactic that put the Bani Qurayza’s head on the block, with only a hope and a prayer that the Confederates would be able to intervene before the executioner’s blade descended.
Kab had been bitterly disappointed by the stratagem. He had waited so many months, patiently praying for deliverance from the sorcerer who had hijacked his home, but now, when the answer had come, it carried too high a price.
But his views were not shared by the other elders of his tribe. Hungry to confront Muhammad and gain revenge for the humiliations the Jews had suffered over the past five years, the shining lights of the Qurayza had embraced this foolhardy plan. Kab had been shouted down in the council of war by old men who dreamed of victory but who would not themselves carry a blade into battle.
But Kab had been able to gain one concession from his allies. The Arabs would be required to send a dozen of their most noble leaders to the fortress of the Bani Qurayza as “guests” during the hostilities. The safe return of these hostages would require the Meccans to take decisive action to end the siege. If the Quraysh failed to speedily come to the aid of the Qurayza, they would risk losing their own men in the fire of Muhammad’s vengeance.
Abu Sufyan had reluctantly agreed and offered the sons of the Meccan chieftains who had been killed at Badr and Uhud, the most prominent being Ikrimah ibn Abu Jahl. Kab had made a sour face when he heard the name. Ikrimah was as brutal as his late father but lacked the charm and diplomatic skills to be a leader like Abu Jahl. Kab wondered if anyone would come to his rescue when the flames of chaos were ignited. He had politely asked Abu Sufyan the whereabouts of his own son, the charismatic Muawiya. At mention of the young man’s name, Abu Sufyan’s face had darkened and he had refused to speak further. Kab had wisely dropped the topic.
As the three men stepped outside, Abu Sufyan turned to face Kab and looked him straight in the eye.
“Do we have an understanding?” he said, in a tone that suggested he was not convinced of Kab’s support after the contentious meeting.
Kab felt a flash of fury. He leaned close to Abu Sufyan and spoke slowly, making sure that the Arab understood what was being asked of the Qurayza.
“If my people break the treaty, there will be no turning back.
Should any of Muhammad’s men survive our attack, they will seek vengeance.”
Huyayy put an arm on Kab and pulled the men apart.
“Then we will leave none alive.”
Kab turned to face his old friend. He had been so delighted to see him only a few hours before. And now he was beginning to regret ever letting the chief of the Bani Nadir inside the fortress.
“You seem very sure of yourself, Huyayy,” he said sharply. “Considering that your own web collapsed on you, I would think that you’d be cautious about spinning new ones.”
Huyayy stepped back as if struck. He looked at Kab as if he did not recognize him.
“There is a time for caution and a time to seize the initiative,” Huyayy said coldly, his eyes narrowing. “This is our last chance, Kab. And yours. If Muhammad defeats the siege, he will be emboldened. He will find a pretext to expel the Qurayza and then will wage war on Khaybar. The Jews of Arabia will vanish into the sands of history.”
Kab stepped back, let the anger seep out of him until he was calm again. They were both on the same side. Both trying to save their people from extinction. It was true that the Confederate plan placed his tribe at risk of immediate annihilation. But it was also true that should the liberators be defeated, the Qurayza would eventually be destroyed anyway as Muhammad’s movement gained supremacy.
The choice Kab faced was stark and cruel, like the wilderness of Arabia he loved with all his heart. Either way, the Bani Qurayza ran the risk of defeat. But if his people were to face death, then it was more honorable to do so fighting by the side of his fellow Jews.
“I will stand by our people,” Kab said after a moment of painful reflection. “But you must not tarry. The gates will open tomorrow night when the new moon covers the land in its veil. If you are not ready then, they will be closed to you forever.”
Abu Sufyan nodded, satisfied that Kab would uphold his end of the bargain.
“We will be ready.”
The two men then slipped on their cloaks and vanished into the darkness, seeking to reach their camp before dawn penetrated the gloom and revealed their presence.
They needn’t have hurried, for they had already been detected. As Kab returned inside the fortress and the powerful gates shut with an ominous boom, a small figure, dressed in robes of midnight black, rose up from a hidden position in the crevices of the lava flow and hastened toward the oasis.
12
I approached the stout housewife and handed her a dagger.
“Take this,” I said with as much authority as I could muster. The woman hesitated and I grabbed her by the wrist and placed the hilt of the blade in her hand. “It is not a request.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice quivering with fear.
I had spent the entire morning performing this ritual and was weary of the question. I was about to respond with a sharp retort, but I peeked at the woman and suddenly felt compassion for her. She could not have been more than thirty, but years of toiling under the cruel sun had left her as withered and wrinkled as a dried fig, her hair colored red with henna to hide the early streaks of white. She was not ready for what was coming. None of us were.
“The Messenger says we must be ready to fight in the streets,” I replied with a conscious effort to be gentle. “Every Muslim, man or woman, who can lift a weapon must do so when the time comes.”
The frightened woman-Nuriya was her name-looked closely at the weapon with a trembling hand. I heard the rustle of her skirt and looked down to see a toddler, a boy of perhaps two, clinging to her and staring up at me with wide eyes. The child’s cheeks were sunken and his stomach was distended, a sign that famine had struck this home with particular fury.