It was a midday sun in the late fifth century AD, casting its fire upon the barren valley of Mecca. Its rays rebounded off the deaf rocks surrounding al-Batha, like shards of molten glass. The hot air trembled above the sands, carrying the smell of dust mixed with the fragrance of incense wafting from the Kaaba's interior, and the smell of roasting meat and hides coming from the edges of the noisy market. In this valley which Prophet Ibrahim—peace be upon him—described as "without cultivation," a noisy life throbbed, a life whose foundation was trade, tribe, and poetry, and whose heart was an ancient house founded upon monotheism. But now its walls groaned under the weight of three hundred and sixty stone idols, led by Hubal, the master of Quraysh's gods, with his red carnelian color and his severed right hand replaced with another of gold.
Around the House, Quraysh, the masters of the valley, managed the affairs of pilgrims and trade. But mastery was never an easy matter. The clans of Quraysh competed for honor and status: al-Rifada, al-Siqaya, al-Liwa, and al-Hijaba. In this era, the star of Banu Abd Manaf was rising in Mecca's sky, and their brightest planet was a man named Hashim ibn Abd Manaf. Hashim was not merely a master among Quraysh's masters, but a man of vision that transcended the narrow valley's boundaries. He saw his people's pale faces in years of drought, and heard the moaning of their children from hunger when roads were cut and trade stopped. He saw Mecca, with its sanctity and location, as a prisoner of the desert, hostage to Bedouin raids and weather fluctuations.
On the afternoon of a sweltering day, Hashim gathered his brothers: Abd Shams, al-Muttalib, and Nawfal, in the shade of Dar al-Nadwa, where matters were concluded only by consultation with the elders. Hashim's face—which had taken its share from his name, as he used to break bread (tharid) and feed pilgrims—was grim as he contemplated his people's condition. He began speaking in a quiet voice that carried the power of certainty:
"O sons of my father," Hashim said, his eyes wandering over his brothers' faces, "you have seen what we are in of hardship in years of drought. We are the masters of this House, and the leaders of this valley, and people are dependent upon us. So how can our residence be pleasant while our neighbor is perishing of hunger? The glory of Quraysh lies in its trade, and our trade today is seasonal, limited, not fulfilling our needs nor filling the gap of our poor. Shall we not think of a matter that expands our provision and secures our sustenance throughout the year?"
His twin brother, Abd Shams, looked at him with eyes gleaming with ambition and hidden envy. He always felt he was a match for Hashim, but fate favored his brother. Abd Shams said in a voice carrying some challenge: "And what do you propose, O Hashim? Shall we dig wells in the rock? Or wait for the sky to rain gold and silver? Trade routes are known and fraught with dangers."
Al-Muttalib smiled—he was the closest of the brothers to Hashim and the wisest of them—and said: "Let your brother complete his speech, O Abd Shams. For Hashim never calls for a meeting except with a grave matter in his sleeve."
Hashim continued, not turning to his brother's sharpness: "Rather, we shall take new paths and forge unprecedented covenants. I shall go to al-Sham, to Caesar and the kings of Ghassan, and take from them a covenant and security for our trade. Let Abd Shams go to Abyssinia and the Negus. Let al-Muttalib depart to Yemen and the kings of Himyar. As for Nawfal, let him go to Persia and Kisra. We shall take from them al-Ilaf—that is, the covenant and security—so that our caravans may travel safely in winter and summer. A journey in winter to Yemen and Abyssinia, and a journey in summer to al-Sham and Persia. Thus, the good of Mecca will not be cut off, our wealth will increase, and we shall feed the hungry and clothe the naked, so the status of Quraysh will rise among all Arabs."
A solemn silence prevailed. The idea was too great to be comprehended by the mind at once. It was not merely a trade journey, but a political and economic project of enormous scale, that would make Mecca a center without rival in the heart of the Arabian Peninsula. This was the seed of "Ilaf Quraysh," which would change Mecca's face forever. And indeed, Quraysh's diplomacy set out under the leadership of Banu Abd Manaf. Hashim succeeded in taking the covenant from Heraclius in al-Sham, and his brothers succeeded in their missions. The caravans of Quraysh began traveling safe and secure, carrying the goods of Yemen and India in winter, and returning with the blessings of al-Sham and Persia in summer. Mecca flourished, and Hashim's status grew until it eclipsed everyone, and he became known as "al-Sayyid" (the Master).
But the fates that raised Hashim high were concealing for him an ending far from his homeland. On one of his summer journeys to al-Sham, in the city of Gaza in Palestine, Hashim fell ill and his sickness intensified. On his deathbed, he did not think of his trade as much as he thought of his only son whom he had left a nursing infant in Yathrib, with his maternal uncles from Banu al-Najjar. He had married Salma bint Amr al-Najjariyya, a noble lady from the masters of al-Khazraj, and she bore him a child with a white face, beautiful appearance, born with gray hair on his head, so his mother named him "Shaybat al-Hamd" (the gray-haired one of praise). Hashim died and was buried in Gaza, which became known from that day as "Gaza Hashim."
The news of his death reached Mecca like a thunderbolt. The valley shook with grief for its master who had fed their hungry and secured their trade. The mastery, al-Rifada, and al-Siqaya passed after him to his wise brother, al-Muttalib ibn Abd Manaf, who was like his brother in generosity and honor. Years passed, and Shaybat al-Hamd grew up in Yathrib, the city of palm trees and fortresses, far from his father's legacy and the custodianship of the House. He was a vigorous youth, showing signs of nobility and horsemanship, throwing spears and excelling over his peers, and a sharp look gleamed in his eyes reminding everyone who saw him of his father Hashim.
One day, a man from Quraysh passed by Yathrib and saw the boy playing with the children. He admired his intelligence and skill, and asked about him: "Who is this lad? For I have never seen a boy nobler than him."
A man from the people of Yathrib answered: "This is Shayba ibn Hashim ibn Abd Manaf, the son of your master."
The Qurayshi returned to Mecca and entered upon al-Muttalib ibn Abd Manaf while he was sitting in the Hijr with Quraysh's nobles. The man said in a loud voice for all to hear: "O Muttalib, how do you leave your brother's son, Shayba, to lose his right and grow up among strangers in Yathrib? By God, if you saw him, you would know that you have lost a jewel beyond price!"
Al-Muttalib's face changed, and he rose immediately. The words had stirred in him the zeal of blood and kinship. He said in a firm voice: "By God, I shall not return to Mecca until I bring him with me."
He mounted his she-camel and traveled quickly toward Yathrib. The road was long, and the heat was severe, but the longing to see his brother's son was stronger. He arrived in Yathrib and began asking about Shayba, and found him throwing spears with youths from his maternal uncles. When al-Muttalib saw his brother's son, he recognized him immediately. There were in him the features of Hashim, his strength, and his pride. He approached him with eyes overflowing with tears. He embraced him strongly and said in a trembling voice:
"O my son, I am your uncle al-Muttalib ibn Abd Manaf. I have come to take you to your people and your country, to the Sanctuary of God and your father's house."
The boy looked at this awe-inspiring man wearing white travel clothes covered with desert dust. He did not know him, but he felt a strong bond toward him. His mother Salma, who had come out at the sound of the gathering, said: "By God, he shall not go, for I fear for him."
Al-Muttalib replied with firmness and gentleness: "O Salma, your son is going to his father's kingdom and his people's sanctuary. I shall never leave him. He is not a small boy, but a man who knows what is his due and what is upon him."
Shayba found no difficulty in making his decision. He felt that his place was not here, and that a great destiny awaited him in that valley he had never seen. He agreed to go with his uncle. Al-Muttalib seated him behind him on his riding camel, and they set out returning to Mecca. And when they entered Mecca with the boy sitting behind his uncle in ragged clothes covered with travel dust, the people saw them and said: "This is a slave that al-Muttalib has bought!" Al-Muttalib shouted at them angrily: "Woe to you! He is the son of my brother Hashim! I have brought him from Yathrib." But the name stuck to the boy, and from that day, he was known only as "Abd al-Muttalib"—a slave of his master al-Muttalib, although al-Muttalib was his uncle and master indeed.
Abd al-Muttalib grew up in his uncle's care, who loved him greatly and preferred him over his own sons. But when al-Muttalib died, Nawfal ibn Abd Manaf, Abd al-Muttalib's other uncle, dared to seize Hashim's inheritance, taking over his properties and his house in Mecca, exploiting his nephew's young age and lack of supporters. Abd al-Muttalib the young man stood before his uncle Nawfal, having grown strong and his manhood appeared. He said in a voice combining respect and challenge:
"O uncle, return to me my father's property. For you know it is my right which I have inherited."
Nawfal laughed mockingly and said: "O my son, you are still a boy, and you have no capacity to manage such property. Go and play with your peers, and leave these matters to the elders."
Abd al-Muttalib felt insulted and wronged. His right had been stolen in broad daylight. He sought help from his uncles from Banu Abd Shams, but they failed him, being closer to Nawfal than to him. That night, Abd al-Muttalib did not sleep. He climbed Jabal Abi Qubais overlooking the Kaaba, and looked at the dark valley lit only by the faint moonlight. He felt loneliness and weakness, but Hashim's spirit flowed in his veins. He remembered his strong uncles in Yathrib, Banu al-Najjar, the masters of al-Khazraj. So he took a piece of leather and wrote upon it verses of poetry, describing his oppression and seeking help from his uncles' zeal. He sent the verses with a swift rider to Yathrib. The verses say:
O length of my night due to my sorrows and concerns
Is there a generous, trusted messenger if I send
To convey from me to my maternal uncles Banu al-Najjar
That Nawfal, after al-Muttalib's death, has wronged me of my property
The message reached his uncle, Abu Sa'd ibn Adi al-Najjari. When he read the verses, his face reddened with anger. He shouted at his people: "O al-Khazraj! Shall the son of our sister be wronged while we are alive?" He did not wait long. He girded his sword and mounted his horse, and set out alone like a hurricane toward Mecca, swearing not to taste food or drink until he secured justice for his sister's son. He arrived in Mecca at mid-morning, and entered the Sacred Mosque where Nawfal was sitting in a council of Quraysh's nobles. He did not greet, but stood at his head with the sword drawn in his hand.
"By the Lord of this House," Abu Sa'd shouted in a voice like thunder, "if you do not return to my sister's son his property this very hour, I shall fill this stone with whiteness!" (meaning the whiteness of the sword).
Nawfal and those with him were stunned. They had not expected such a reaction. He looked at Abu Sa'd's face blazing with anger, and the gleaming sword in his hand, and realized the man was not joking. He said in a low voice, his arrogance having vanished: "I have returned it to him."
Abu Sa'd summoned Quraysh's nobles to witness this, then departed to Abd al-Muttalib's house. Only then, with the right restored and dignity returned, did Abd al-Muttalib look at the Honorable Kaaba, realizing that recovering his father's inheritance was but the first step on a long road fraught with dangers and glory, a road that would lead him to the heart of the Peninsula, and to a forgotten well, and an army the like of which Mecca had never seen.