even then, once its people have implored you for help, it becomes obligatory for you to come to their aid. How much more so when you are in fact its governors and sovereigns, while they are your subjects and you will be held accountable for them!”
With these words he strengthened their hearts and guaranteed them victory in this campaign, so the armies set out for Syria. As one contingent after another reached the province, the populace rejoiced with an indescribable joy, having previously despaired for their lives, their families, and their wealth.
Rumours then intensified that the Mongols had arrived, and it was confirmed that the sultan had returned to Egypt. Ibn al-Nuhās, the city prefect, cried out to the people: “Whoever is able to travel, let him not remain in Damascus!” Women and children wailed, the people were overwhelmed by humiliation and gloom, and they were shaken to their very core. The markets were closed, and they became certain that they had no helper but Allah—exalted is He—and that if the deputy of Syria, when he still enjoyed the sultan’s support the previous year, had been unable to confront the Mongol host, how could he do so now when he was bent on flight?
People kept saying, “The inhabitants of Damascus are naught but a mouthful for the enemy.” Many sought refuge in the Citadel; none could sleep or remain at ease, while great numbers fled with their families, young and old alike, to the plains and wilderness. A proclamation was made: “Whoever intends jihad, let him join the army, for the Mongols are near.” Only a few of the city’s notables remained. Ibn Jamāʿah, al-Ḥarīrī, Ibn Saṣrā, and Ibn Munajja all departed—indeed, their households had already preceded them to Egypt.
News then arrived that the Mongols had reached Sarmīn (1). Shaykh Zayn al-Dīn al-Fāriqī, Shaykh Ibrāhīm al-Raqqī, Ibn Qawām, Sharaf al-Dīn Ibn Taymiyya, and Ibn Jubārah (2) went out to the viceroy al-Afram and bolstered his resolve to face the enemy. They next met with Muhannā, the chieftain of the Bedouin Arabs, and urged him to fight; he accepted with ready obedience, and their determination grew firm. A contingent of Salar’s troops marched from Damascus toward al-Marj, and all prepared for battle with sincere intentions.
Shaykh Taqī al-Dīn Ibn Taymiyya (3) returned from Egypt on the twenty-seventh of Jumāda al-Ūlā by express courier. He had spent eight days in the Cairo Citadel urging the people to wage jihad and march out against the foe. He met with the sultan, the vizier, and the leading dignitaries, and they pledged to set forth.
Meanwhile prices in Damascus had soared: two lambs (4) were sold for five hundred dirhams, and hardship grew extreme. Then word came that the Mongol king had forded the Euphrates and turned back that year because his army was weak and few in number. Hearts were cheered, the people settled, and they returned to their homes relieved, safe, and hopeful. When further reports arrived, in Jumāda al-Ākhirah, confirming that the Mongols had not entered Syria, the people’s spirits were fully restored. The viceroy returned to Damascus—he had been encamped at al-Marj for four consecutive months, one of the greatest acts of ribāṭ—and the populace likewise went back to their towns.