Umar had heard the sad news and now heard the sounds of wailing. The women took to the streets, led by the women of the Bani Makhzum, wailing and beating their breasts. The news of Khalid’s death broke like a storm over Madinah. Thus died Khalid, son of Al Waleed, the Sword of Allah. The eyes of cowards do not close even in sleep.” As the shadows gathered, Khalid put all the torment of his soul into one last, anguished sentence: “I die even as a camel dies. On his last day of life he lay alone in bed with Hamam sitting in patient sorrow beside his illustrious master. ![]() On the day of his death, Khalid’s possessions consisted of nothing more than his armour and weapons, his horse and one slave-the faithful Hamam. Why, oh why could he not have died a martyr in the way of Allah! Khalid’s head could see the logic of what his visitor had said, but his heart still yearned for a glorious death in combat. Khalid remained silent, and a few minutes later the friend took his leave. If you had been killed by an unbeliever it would have meant that Allah’s sword had been broken by an enemy of Allah and that could never be.” “You must understand, O Khalid,” the friend explained, “that when the Messenger of Allah, on whom be the blessings of Allah and peace, named you Sword of Allah, he predetermined that you would not fall in battle. “You could not die in battle”, replied the friend. “I have sought martyrdom in a hundred battles. Next he bared his great chest, now devoid of most of its mighty sinews, and here again the friend was met with a sight which made him wonder how a man wounded in so many places could survive The friend again admitted that he could not see the space of one hand span of unmarked skin. Khalid raised his right arm and then his left, for a similar examination and with a similar result. Again the friend agreed that between the wounds farthest apart the space was less than a hand’s span. Khalid raised the cover from his left leg and repeated his question. The friend examined Khalid’s leg and confessed that he did not. Khalid raised the cover from his right leg and said to his visitor, “Do you see a space of the span of a hand on my leg which is not covered by some scar of the wound of a sword or an arrow or a lance?” Knowing that he had not long to live, it irked him to await death in bed.Ī few days before his end, an old friend called to see him and sat at his bedside. He lay in bed, impatient and rebellious against a fate which had robbed him of a glorious, violent death in battle. This last illness proved too much for him and Khalid’s sick bed became his death bed. ![]() As with all vigorous, active men upon whom an inactive retirement is suddenly thrust, Khalid’s health and physique had declined rapidly. We do not know the nature of his illness, but it was a prolonged one and took the strength out of him. ![]() Some time in 642 (21 Hijri), at the age of 58, Khalid was taken ill. The following year it was Khalid’s turn to go. In this year, too, died Bilal the Muazzin and Khalid’s defeated foe, Heraclius, Emperor of Rome.
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