Ain Jalut

Galilee, June 1306

It was already summer in the village of Zir'in. Young Ahmad had finished his morning chores and went looking for shade under the olive tree next to the road. His grandfather was already there, sitting on his stool and staring off at the clouds. Ahmad wanted to say hello, but his grandfather appeared lost in thought. The boy sat down cross-legged and looked at the clouds Grandfather was studying. This became somewhat of a routine over the next few weeks.

One evening Ahmad asked his father why grandfather stared at the clouds. Ahmad's father, Ameer, was kindly but hardworking, and he was tired. He gently told Ahmad that Grandfather was just getting old.

The next morning Ahmad decided to ask his mother. She was Salima, the daughter of his grandfather. Salima smiled and told him that Grandfather had a special prayer answered when he was young. She told Ahmad that Grandfather was old and gazed to heaven in thanks.

Ahmad was not so sure. Grandfather had an intensity in his stare when he was looking at the sky—as if he was looking for something to happen. Ahmad didn't mind. He liked the comfortable silence under the shade tree. So, the weeks go by.

In early September, Ahmad plopped down close to grandfather. A couple of minutes passed. Grandfather, still staring at the clouds, said, "Yes. It was a day like today. The angle of the sun and smell of the crops is right. Ahmad, would you like to hear a story?" Ahmad does.

"It was a day like today..." began Grandfather.

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Khaled, who decades later Ahmad would know as his Grandfather, was young. He herded goats and cultivated a modest garden for his family of 3. They lived close to Ain Jalut, also known as the Spring of Goliath. For the time and place, they had a relatively good life. It was 1259. Khaled was 25 years old and his wife, Alia, had blessed him with a joyful daughter named Salima. Alia teased Khaled when Salima made him laugh, which was often.

"I thought you wanted a strong son!" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Ah, well, one strong man is enough for us now!" He chuckled and chased a squealing Salima outside.

Alia listened to them, and her heart was content. Her childbirth was difficult, but God had been good to her family, and perhaps he would bless them with more children later. For now, she was content to live her life with her small family.

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Miles to the north and west, Hulagu Khan, ruler of western Asia and grandson of Genghis, reflected on the war council that just concluded. He watched the stars twinkle brightly. The memory of Baghdad warmed him. Aleppo and Damascus were poor cousins compared to the sack of Baghdad. His brother, the Great Möngke Khan, was proving to be an effective ruler. 

What could he do to gain more power and favor? His thoughts turned toward the south and the land of Egypt! The Mamluks controlled Egypt, but Hulagu was confident they could be subjugated. Or destroyed. They knew the trail of conquest that was behind Hulagu. After Egypt, the possibilities were tantalizing. Constantinople? Rome? Perhaps they were shadows of themselves, but glory and control of the inland sea would be his.

One of the servants bringing Hulagu his wine that evening was also reflecting on the council. His name was Daseem, but he was no simple servant of Hulagu. He was the angel Donel, angel of the south wind. The Mongols had been making the Tree of Destiny quake as if it were in a storm. Angels had watched the sacking of Baghdad, Aleppo, and Damascus with growing concern. Donel had been sent to monitor Hulagu's progress and convey the observations back to his superiors.

The situation was rife with complexity and risks. Christians held much of the coast of the Holy Land. The Muslims held the rest of it. But the Mongols threatened everyone. Wise minds were put to task on the problem and potential outcomes. After deliberation, Archangel Michael himself would ultimately issue the orders.

"Midael, you are needed far to the east. Your task is to recruit an archer for a shot of destiny. A shot to take out the Great Möngke Khan. It is important to avoid direct involvement due to the repercussions. However, if there is no other possibility, your shot will be taken as a last resort. Our scholars believe that the death of Möngke Khan will lead to Hulagu returning to Karakorum to help choose a successor in the Kurultai ceremony."

The choice of Midael, the archer angel, reflected the gravity of the situation. "It will be done," Midael replied in his soft but powerful voice.

"Cahetel, as further encouragement for Hulagu to leave, your task is to wither the fodder that the Mongol horses will need in order to advance toward lower Galilee."

Cahetel, the regent angel of crops, was the natural choice.

"Consider it done," he said.

"Archas, you have a contingency mission. You will go to see Saif ad-Din Qutuz in Egypt. Convince him to meet the Mongols up north. I realize it will not be an easy task, but it is only in case the other missions fail."

Scholar angel Butator spoke up. "Michael, what if Hulagu does not leave? Or not entirely?"

Michael had known the subject would come up. He gave the straightforward answer. "The Mongols must not advance past lower Galilee. It is not a tolerable risk. If all else fails, I will have a team under my direct command, and we will stop them."

This was met with silence. Direct intervention was rare for good reason. It opened opportunities for the Great Enemy to become involved. And in this case, the prophecy of Megiddo loomed over them like a storm cloud.

Michael cast his gaze over the assembled angels and said, "Very well. You all have your instructions. May God, our Father, be with us."

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Cahetel gazed over the land with his farseeing vision. The Sea of Galilee was his reference to the south, and the snow-clad Mt. Hermon was his reference to the north. He accepted his role but took no joy in damaging the grasses. There were 3 plausible avenues to deny Hulagu. The Hula Valley was the first and easiest. Cahetel whispered his prayers and turned his eye toward the Golan Heights. His displeasure was apparent, but he fulfilled his role and again said the words to bring desolation to the fodder in the area. Last was what he remembered as the land of Shem, the son of Noah. Cahetel murmured the curse on the grass and sighed again, his role complete.

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Meanwhile, Midael was embedded in the Diaoyu Fortress, currently under siege by the Great Möngke Khan's army. The fortress was perched atop a mountain and surrounded on three sides by water. It was a beautiful setting, but the defenders were solely focused on their survival. Thousands of Mongols were conducting the siege, but it was not a passive affair. They were launching continual sorties against Yu Jian's defenders inside the fortress.

Midael was present under the guise as a Persian advisor to Yu Jian. He had to speak through an interpreter, but he did not need to convince Yu Jian of much.

"Great Yu, the Khan will want to lead at some point. It is important to the Mongols that their leaders are involved. This should present you with an opportunity."

"Such as?" asked Yu Jian.

"A decapitation strike. If you will prepare a squad of your best archers and trebuchets, at some point they will have the chance to end this, with any luck."

The interpreter finished his job. Yu Jian smiled.

"You and I think alike. I will line it up."

"Thank you, Great Yu," said Midael as he bowed and backed away respectfully.

Within days, Midael's advice proved accurate. Möngke Khan himself led an attack up the steep steps. Yu Jian had indeed prepared well. A blizzard of arrows rained down upon the Great Khan. The arrow nicked his jugular, and he bled out as he was whisked away by his vanguard troops.

Midael looked down with satisfaction. He had coached the archers but did not have to get directly involved.

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Hulagu listened to the messengers from Karakorum with frustration and sadness. His brother was dead. He loved his brother, who was always kind toward him. He was now summoned for the Kurultai ceremony. This was where the Khans would choose a new Great Khan. He was not interested in the politics that will be involved. Hulagu didn't feel entitled to become the Great Khan. He still wanted to conquer. But duty called. The fodder for the horses was poor anyway. And yet... perhaps he could do both at once? He trusted his general, Kitbuqa. He could leave a dangerous force of 2 tumens (roughly 20,000 men) with Kitbuqa to strengthen their position in Galilee—further if possible. Meanwhile, he would attend to the matters in Karakorum. Yes, his mind was settled. He took a deep breath and a draught of wine. Orders were given.

Donel listened.

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Archas arrived to see Saif ad-Din Qutuz. Archas was disguised as an-Nasir Yusuf, the great-grandson of Saladin.

Qutuz had an interesting background. He had been sold into slavery in Egypt as a child. Over time, he rose to vice-Sultan, becoming the power behind the throne. He was prominent in helping to defeat the Seventh Crusade, which invaded Egypt in 1249.

"So, what brings Yusuf to our doorstep?" asked Qutuz. "I thought you were an enemy of Egypt."

"Honorable Qutuz, you know I am no friend of the Mamluks, but we both have an enemy at our door who will devour both of us."

"Well, that is interesting. I suppose you speak of the Mongols. Why would I fear them? They are far from here and have to go through the Persians and your lands first."

"Baghdad was sacked. As was Aleppo and Damascus. Soon they will be here."

Qutuz tilted his head slightly and gave pause. This was extremely disturbing, if true. "Perhaps that is true, and perhaps it is not. Why would I alarm the Emirs with this story?"

"Because you are a follower of Allah and defender of Egypt. And there is this—" said Archas as he produced a ring—the ring of the king and seal of Damascus.

Qutuz leaned forward and shook his head. "Well, this changes things," he said.

After hours of consultations with Archas, Qutuz began the process of assembling the Mamluk army. Once done, they proceeded north to meet the Mongol force. The pace was slow. After all, the coastal Crusader Kingdoms must be consulted. Qutuz attempted to entice them into a temporary alliance but was not successful. They were long term enemies of the Mamluks, but they had heard about the devastation wrought by the Mongols. Ultimately, they allowed the Mamluks to proceed northward without opposition, but they would not join the fight.

At that point, all that could be done had been done. But there was still risk. The contingency plan had to be prepared. Michael himself presided over the task force of angels assembled to stop Kitbuqa if he advanced past lower Galilee.

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September 3, 1260

The Mongols advanced first. With them included troops from the Kingdom of Georgia and the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia. Qutuz hid the bulk of his force in the highlands and attempted to lure the Mongols with a small force. Qutuz gave his subordinate Baibars the command of the smaller force. Baibars had spent years of his life in this region as a fugitive. His skill set was ideal for this situation.

The fight went on through the morning, with Baibars using hit-and-run tactics to provoke the Mongol troops. The Mongols were no fools, but as they carried out another heavy assault, the Mamluks faked a final retreat to draw the Mongols into the highlands. There, Qutuz waited with the rest of the Mamluk forces concealed among the trees.

Kitbuqa, impatient due to the constant fleeing of Baibars, committed the first strategic mistake of the day. He decided to march forward with all his troops on the trail of the fleeing Mamluks. When the Mongols reached the highlands, Mamluk forces emerged from hiding, and the Mongols were suddenly surrounded.

"-үр.. сэтгэлээ чангал! Тэд зөөлөн байна!" yelled Kitbuqa. "Harden your hearts! They are soft!" The Mongols, accustomed to victory, fought savagely to break out.

Some distance away, Qutuz watched with his personal guard. The left wing of the Mamluk army was in danger of collapsing under the fierce Mongol assault seeking an escape route.

Qutuz threw off his helmet, so his soldiers could recognize him. He spurred his horse toward the battlefield. "Wa islamah!" screamed Qutuz. "Oh, my Islam!" he yelled encouragement to the left wing and was followed by his own guard. The battle hung on a knife's edge.

The Mongols were pushed back and fled, followed hotly by Qutuz's forces. They managed to reorganize and counterattack. But slowly the battle shifted toward the Mamluks, who now had both the high ground and psychological advantage. Toward the end of the day, some Mongols retreated, but many stayed. Kitbuqa led the group who remained, and they were killed almost to a last man. Kitbuqa died in hand-to-hand combat.

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Meanwhile, a few miles away, a young Khaled heard sounds of battle. He rushed home to protect or hide his family. He was too late. A Mongol rider was taking his wife and young daughter away. He gave chase on foot but failed. He cried out to God for help. And this was where Khaled, the future Grandfather, picked up the story with his grandson, Ahmad.

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"It was a day like today," began Grandfather. "Yes. Yes, it was. I had sprinted home to hide your mother and grandmother." Grandfather pauses. Almost choked up, he said, "But I was too late. I came over that hill—yes, that one—and a rider had Grandmother and your mother tied up with ropes, leading them away."

"What did you do?" asked Ahmad.

Grandfather clenched his hands together. "I was too far away. Too tired. Unarmed. I cried out to God to help me and stumbled as I moved toward them."

"What happened? How are you all here now?" asked an incredulous Ahmad.

Grandfather peered out to the sky. The same place he always stared. "It was there." Grandfather points. "There was a clap of thunder, a majestic angel with a host of his warriors appeared on a cloud, his sword poised to strike. He—he spoke to me," said Grandfather in a quiet voice.

Ahmad listened with rapt attention.

"He said, 'Son of Abraham, your prayer is answered' and fire jumped from his sword, killing the raider.

"Young Ahmad, I was stupid with wonder. I could only stare up on my knees and croak out thanks to the angel and to God. Tears ran down my eyes. My wife and daughter were saved. The grand angel spoke once more. He lifted his sword in salute and said, 'Well done, father of future sons of destiny.' He and his cohort disappeared in another thunderclap."

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Michael saluted the young man. Surrounded by the other angels, he asked if the Mongols were turned back. He was told yes.

A hint of a smile formed on the corner of Michael's mouth.

"We have been blessed. Our real mission was to ensure that the young man's daughter lived. Her descendants are said to play a critical role in future centuries. Turning back the Mongols is a windfall."

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Grandfather ended his story and stared back at the clouds. Ahmad was amazed but too young to doubt his grandfather. It was a formative moment in his faith.