362 13 Five months later Yasir came out from Mecca to inform me of something that was almost inevitable: Abu Numa and my disciples were insisting that I come back. What is more, Sitt Umama had returned to the city and kept asking for me. Yasir asked me if I would in fact come back, then handed me a letter from my students and another from my dear friend Al-Shushtari. Both of them offered their condolences on the death of my beloved wife. At sunrise the next morning, I said farewell to my Maghribi guardians, but not before they had received a promise from me to come back at the earliest possible opportunity. I returned to my residence in Mecca as fast as my horse would allow. Yasir and Ghaylan both welcomed me profusely. I washed, prayed, and changed clothes, then headed for the governor’s palace, eager to find out what had led him to summon me back. When I arrived, he greeted me warmly and, with a minimum of questions, assured himself that I was well. For a while he spoke about his concerns and responsibilities: making the road to Mecca safe for pilgrims, preparing things for the pilgrimage season, and implementing various measures to control the flood of visitors so as to avoid troubles and disasters. I shared with him my view that there should be some limit to the number of visitors to the holy shrine at any one time and some organization of the way in which they moved in groups through the various stages of the ritual. In particular, there was a pressing need for more guards, doctors, and medical technicians. On that count he agreed with me and promised to do whatever he could. “But then,” he sighed, “what are we to do when so many pilgrims hope to die and be buried in this blessed territory?!” In my own mind I resented such people, but what I loathed even more was the idea of those nasty, murderous thugs who waylaid pilgrims—may their efforts A Muslim Suicide | 363 and pilgrimages find no such blessings! For a few moments my companion said nothing, as though he were preparing to tell me something momentous, the real reason for summoning me. The gist of it was that every indication suggested that Al-Malik Al-Zahir Baybars was planning to perform the pilgrimage this year. He therefore encouraged me to take all necessary precautions and to avoid all the usual hiding places, beginning in Dhu al-Qa‘da until such time as the danger was past. That was particularly necessary, he went on, because Baybars had learned the identity of the author of the letter of fealty to the Hafsid caliph, al-Mustansir. I calmed the governor’s concerns about my precautions and plans, offered him my prayers of thanks, and then left with a show of determination. So here we were in the first day of the month of Jamadi al-Akhira in the year 667 AH [1269 CE]; in other words, five months or less before Baybars would arrive. I decided to spend the time between my residence, the Hira’ Cave, and Abraham’s Shrine. At times I would be instructing students, while at others I preferred to be alone and spend the time in pleasant contemplation. When I returned to the Meknesi residence, it was to find Yasir waiting for me. He indicated Sitt Umama, who was awaiting my return in the garden. No sooner had I moved toward her than she jumped up, kissed my shoulder, and offered me condolences on the death of my wife, her voice full of sadness. In order to calm her down, I offered her my thanks, then led her back to where she had been sitting. I asked her how she was, but her only response was to lean over—her eyes still filled with copious tears—and to tell me, “God help you, Sir, in the loss of your beloved wife. Only someone who has also lost an irreplaceable loved one can truly appreciate the pain you must feel. Promise to take me to her grave so that I can beg God’s mercy on her pure soul. If you agree, then let it be soon, the last Friday of this month.” I signaled my acceptance of her suggestion, then accompanied her to the door, feeling deeply affected. Immediately after dawn on the appointed day, I charged Ghaylan with accompanying the lady on the...