He passed away that same year, having lived beyond eighty.

Yahya ibn Muhammad ibn Saʿid (1)—Abu Muhammad, a freedman of Abu Jaʿfar al-Mansur—travelled far and wide in pursuit of hadith. He wrote, listened, and memorised, and became one of the leading huffaz, a senior authority among the transmitters. Many eminent scholars recorded traditions from him, and his literary works testify to his prodigious memory, legal acumen, and keen understanding. He died in Baghdad and was buried at Bab al-Kufa in this very year, being ninety (2) years of age.

Al-Hasan ibn ʿAli ibn Ahmad ibn Bashshar ibn Ziyad (3), better known as Ibn al-ʿAllaf, the blind poet of Nahrawan, was a celebrated verse-maker and one of the night-time companions of Caliph al-Muʿtaḍid billāh. He composed a ringing elegy for a pet cat of his that had been killed by neighbours after it devoured the fledgling pigeons from their dovecotes; the poem is marked by grace and refinement. It is said that he actually meant the piece as a lament for Ibn al-Muʿtazz (4) but dared not attribute it to him after Caliph al-Muqtadir billāh had him put to death. The poem opens:

“O cat, you left us and never returned,
You were to me as dear as a son.”

It runs to sixty-five verses.

[Then came the year 319 AH]

In Muharram of that year the pilgrims entered Baghdad. Muʾnis al-Khādim had set out for the hajj with a large army, fearing the Qarmaṭians; the Muslims rejoiced, Baghdad was adorned for the occasion, and tents and pavilions were pitched for Muʾnis al-Khādim. While on the road he learned that the Qarmaṭians lay ahead of him, so he led the people off the main route