บท 42: The battle that never happened
Khalid was observing the Roman army in front of him, on the other side of the valley. It looked like Romans didn't want to stop them until they became a threat, and that's why they stood up against them fairly inland, hundred kilometres from the Holy city of Jerusalem, near a river called Yarmuk. They waited for him on one side of the valley, meaning to bring the fight down, making great use of their heavy cataphracts. Arabs were seemingly in a disadvantage in this one, but Khalid was sure that he'll be able to make it through. The numbers were roughly same, with Romans having a few thousand more. But Khalid didn't want that to offset him. He was confident he would win. He did so against Persians more than once, so why shouldn't he do the same against Romans?
He observed the enemy intensely, watching their every move. He followed a figure that looked like an enemy general. He looked at him, trying to make something out of the way he moved and his facial expression. Then, suddenly, the figure he was observing turned in his direction. It felt like he was staring at him, eye to eye. No one bucked. They stared at each other from the distance, not being really sure who are they looking at. After a few minutes, the enemy general turned around and continued to walk somewhere behind the horizon. Khalid was sweating from this exchange. It was such a powerful moment that he felt like he can't be the one who breaks the eye contact. He suddenly felt much less confident. His enemy looked like he might be tougher than it seemed.
After making the needed preparations, they were basically ready for the battle. The night was falling, but fires were illuminating the camp. Guards were taking turns, watching over the valley through the night. Khalid was looking at the sky while thinking about the "battle" he had today with the enemy general. At least he thought it was a general. He was thinking whether he'll be able to win the upcoming battle. He should. But nothing was set in stone. For some reason, he feared he'll lose. It was just a though, a feeling, but it still scared him. He couldn't even imagine what would happen, were he to lose. If he lost, he would disappoint not only his Caliph and friend, Abu Bakr, but also his God and all Muslims. It was then when he realized how fragile this whole plan, this whole campaign was. Were he to lose but a single significant battle, they would be lost and the dream of spreading Islam far and wide would be gone, forever. He shuddered at the thought, that felt as if it was so unreal, but so probable. So… reachable.
Early in the morning, when it seemed that, since no one moved yet, the battle will begin soon, a messenger arrived, bringing a message. Khalid had bad feeling from it. He accepted the letter, which was sealed with the Caliph's seal. The first thing he found strange was that the seal was different from the Abu Bakr's one. Only a bit, but still was. He opened the letter and read it. His facial expression changed drastically, into that of a terror. He was frightened at first, but soon, he became more sad than frightened. Abu Bakr was dead. That stood clearly in the letter. And since one of the contenders for the Caliph's position, Usama ibn Zayd, was nowhere to be found, Umar automatically overtook the position of Caliph of Arabia. Supposedly, Abu Bakr died of natural causes. At least that was what was written in the letter Khalid read. He was old, true, and he was also sick. But was that enough to let him succumb? Maybe. But Khalid was very paranoid about this. With the message of Abu Bakr's death, an order was also written in the letter. The order was to immediately retreat from the Roman land, and to instead focus on Persians without even engaging Roman army. Perhaps Umar didn't want to divide their attention, especially when they stood against big and mighty empires. And with the news of Roman-Persian alliance, concluded by a marriage of Persian Shahanshah and Roman princess, they should focus only on one enemy at the time with always being able to retreat back into the desert, where the enemy armies wouldn't follow them. But if Khalid were to not engage Romans at all, he had to stop this battle from happening. And even if, the news of Abu Bakr dying would surely spread among the soldiers, weakening their morale by a large amount. After these crushing news, neither Khalid, nor his army was in the state to fight. So he had negotiate with the Romans. The letter was signed: "Sincerely, Caliph of Arabia, Umar ibn al-Khattab, 26th of March, 634." For some reason, Khalid thought of how well the role of Caliph suits Umar.
Jabalah was observing the Arabian camp. It was nearly noon, yet Arabs didn't move, even a bit. A while ago, scouts reported some commotion in the Arab camp, so perhaps that had something to do with how passive they were. He thought back to when he looked the Arab general into the eyes previous day. It was a strange experience. He was sure that the man he was looking on was Khalid ibn al-Walid, the Arab general and supposed genius tactician that defeat several times superior Persian armies. Part of him wanted to measure strength with him, but part of him felt that he's a real threat that shouldn't be taking lightly. He got some intel on him from Persians, but the actual, real-life experience was much better to judge and analyse.
Jabalah then noticed a lone rider, riding from the Arabian camp. He looked like a messenger. Most likely. He watched him ride in their direction, until he stopped under the makeshift barricades. He didn't hear the conversation, but he was eventually called on the barricades by the soldier that talked with the Arab messenger. So he went through the camp, until he arrived on the barricades. Under him, a man, lightly clothed, sat on a horse, looking up at him.
"I am King Jabalah ibn al-Aiham. I presume you have a message for me from your general, right?"
"Yes, your Majesty. I bring a message from our general, great Khalid ibn al-Walid."
The messenger spoke in fairly fluent Greek, which surprised Jabalah a bit. The messenger may have spoken more fluent Greek than Jabalah himself.
"Our general wants to negotiate on truce. He wants to avoid the bloodshed that will surely occur. He promises to withdraw the army from Roman lands, in exchange for promise of immunity and that you'll not pursue our army."
Jabalah was at the loss of words. Was this a trap? He didn't believe so. He deemed Khalid to be fearsome, but honourable foe. He didn't think he'll be someone who'll break his word. But wasn't this a great opportunity? If the Arabs wanted to retreat, then that meant they weren't ready to fight. Most likely. But if so, it would be beneficial to attack them, when they were weak. But Jabalah lacked the resolve to conduct such a risk. And this option to avoid bloodshed but secure the Roman lands was most likely his safest bet. And so, he went with that.
"I accept your conditions. We shall not pursue your withdrawal."
"Thank you, your Majesty. I shall inform our general and we shall withdraw immediately."
The messenger bowed in the saddle and rode off. Jabalah then instructed a group of scouts to follow the Arab army until they leave Roman territory. He then went away to write the report. The battle of Yarmuk, that was meant to take place today, never did.
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