اذا لم يكن الا  الاسنة مركب                  فما حيلة المظطر الا ركوبها

If there be nothing to ride but spears, what could a man

 under duress do but ride them?

Ibn Saud’s first action on hearing about the gathering of the Mutair and Utaiba tribes was to dispatch a letter to the amirs of each town and village requiring them to come to Riyadh with their jihad flags. These were Holy War flags which would be followed by all the warriors loyal to the King. As hastily as he could, His Majesty assembled his forces, though matters were complicated for him by the fact that this was the period of the Ramadan fast. As was his right under Islamic law, he requested all his troops to cease observing the fast. This was a well-established practice in time of war. Despite this, some of the troops refused to stop fasting. The King ordered that they should be stoned, but with his usual wisdom and mercy decreed that the stoning should be merely symbolic so as to shame the disobedient soldiers rather than kill them.

At least one of His Majesty’s old allies stood by him in his time of need. Abdullah Ibn Jelawi raised an army of local tribesmen in Al-Hasa and dispatched it to the north of the area under the command of his son Fahd, in order to keep in check elements of the Shammar and Ajman tribes who were known to be gathering against the King. His Majesty could therefore campaign to the north of Riyadh, confident that his eastern flank was secure.

As soon as the King had raised a sufficient force he set off from Riyadh via Shaqra, the capital of the province of Al-Washim, to Buraida, the capital of Al-Qasim. Wherever he went, even in wartime, he was accompanied by most of his Court staff, so it was taken for granted that I would go with him. Most of the force travelled by camel, but some, including the King himself, travelled by car. The King had come to consider cars a most useful aid in wartime; provided they did not break down or get stuck in the sand, they were much faster than a camel, and very handy if one wished to make a surprise attack or a hasty withdrawal. Nevertheless, the cars were left at Buraida because the desert ground after that was so rough that it would have been foolish to risk taking them any further.

At Buraida I remember His Majesty holding several audiences attended by large number of loyal bedouin. He talked and joked freely among them, giving encouragement and advice wherever it was needed. Each tribesmen to whom he talked might give an opinion about the strength and whereabouts of the enemy or the allegiance of a particular tribe or tribal section. In this way the King gained a mass of information, although much of it was contradictory. It was a pleasure and an education to watch the meticulous way in which His Majesty simultaneously raised morale and gathered intelligence. He showed great skill in questioning  his informants and in sifting and weighing up the differing reports and rumours, and was thus able to obtain an accurate picture of the overall military situation.

Shortly before we left Buraida there was a day of heavy rain. The desert burst into colour as flowers and grasses sprang up to take advantage of the short-lived moisture. As we rode off to battle the whole of nature seemed to be wishing us well. While we travelled, His Majesty continued to speak to as many of the chiefs and tribesmen as he could. This was in order to keep up the continual process of encouragement at which he was so expert, and also to satisfy his own voracious appetite for news.

From Buraida we proceeded to Nabqiyah, where it had been arranged that we should await the arrival from Riyadh of two of the King’s sons, Crown Prince Saud and Prince Mohammed. Prince Faisal had already been dispatched to guard Hejaz. I later discovered that the Ikhwan were aware of our movements during this time and that Mutlaq Ibn Al-Jaba, one of the chiefs of the Mutair, suggested that an attack should be made on Riyadh before Prince Saud left. ‘In Riyadh They only have servants to guard them,’ he said. ‘Let us go and finish them off. That would leave the King cut off in the desert.’ Such a plan might well have been successful, but fortunately for us it was never attempted. Prince Saud and his brother arrived safely, accompanied by their servants and a large number of bedouin and townspeople who had joined them on the way.

We stayed for about a week at Nabqiyah. This was an interesting area with a very fertile, mud-like red soil, from which sprouted a wealth of rich desert vegetation. However, there were few in our camp who were in any mood to appreciate the wonders of desert flora. The atmosphere became increasingly tense, for we all knew how important the coming campaign was to the future of the kingdom. A small incident occurred one night after evening prayer, when gunfire was heard in the distance. Everybody was instantly alert. The King himself dashed out of his tent shouting war-cries and demanding to know what the shooting was about. Several bedouin chiefs had to restrain him from running towards the firing. Servants were sent to investigate the disturbance, and it turned out the gunfire was just a signal for the benefit of some bedouin from the Shammar tribe who had gone in search of water and had lost their way. The shots had been fired by their friends to guide them home. The incident illustrated how easily débâcles like those at Turabah or Rowdhat Muhanna could occur; even though there had only been a few shots in the distance, everybody in the camp was nervously staring into the darkness ready to fire at anything which moved, and we could easily have started shooting at each other.

The following morning we set off for the town of Zilfi, first crossing a series of huge sand-dunes. Zilfi was people mostly by members of the Utaiba tribe. As we approached the town, news reached us that the Ikhwan had sent a small detachment of Utaiba tribesmen there, who were attempting to incite the townspeople to rebel against the King and allow their town to be occupied by Ikhwan forces. This is a good example of the tactics of desert warfare in operation, for if the Ikhwan had succeeded in the holding Zilfi against us, we would have been stranded in the sand-dunes without water. Instantly realizing the danger, His Majesty sent five hundred men ahead in the hope that they might capture the Ikhwan emissaries and occupy the town. The townspeople reluctantly allowed this advance guard to enter Zilfi and the Ikhwan emissaries, who were only about thirty in number, fled for their lives. It was a close thing. The townspeople were in a delicate position, torn between their conflicting loyalties to their King and to their tribe; it was only the timely arrival of the royal forces which persuaded them that the more prudent course lay in supporting their monarch. Even so, the reception His Majesty received was less than enthusiastic. Instead of the whole town turning out to greet him, as would normally have happened, we were met by a small, rather nervous deputation comprising a handful of the town’s prominent citizens.

Zilfi is a town made up of two linked villages, and His Majesty set up camp between the two. There is a mountain nearby with fertile grassland at its feet where the camels were sent for pasturing. We had only just settled in when the camels in one big herd came trotting back towards our camp. They had obviously been frightened by something and we soon found out what it was. Two messengers (one from the Mutair tribe and one from the Utaiba) had descended from the high plateau where they were camped; they had left word with some local grass-cutters working on the slopes to say that they would come to our camp the following day.

The next morning Abdul Aziz Ad-Dawish (the son of Faisal Ad-Dawish) representing the Mutair tribe, and Majid Ibn Khuthailah on behalf of the Utaiba, came to our camp and delivered this message to the King: ‘We have been sent by the chiefs of each tribe. We ask from you a pardon. We wish to settle our differences peacefully and we do not want war.’ The rebels knew that the raid on Ibn Sharida’s caravan had particularly offended the King, and as a gesture of goodwill they offered to pay tribute for the camels which had been captured. His Majesty answered, ‘We can sit in the Sharia’h court, and between us see what the court  decides.’ The Sharia’h court is formed in formed in accordance with the rules laid down in the Koran and presided over by an ulema appointed by the King. It has the power to judge criminal matters, and the King meant by his remark that the Ikhwan leaders should submit themselves to the judgement of the court to establish whether or not their actions were criminal under Islamic law. Since they would stand accused of multiple murder and robbery, and the inevitable penalty for such crimes was death, it is perhaps not surprising that the idea did not immediately commend itself to the Ikhwan messengers. Before they left, the King with his usual generosity made gifts of money to them. Then he called together the chiefs of the tribes who were with him to ask their opinion of the rebels’ petition. I watched as the chiefs gathered solemnly around the King, and I remember that I had that moment the sudden feeling that what I was witnessing was like a great drama, except that it was not played as fiction in the narrow confines of the theatre but rather for stakes of life and death in the vast expanse of the open desert.

Abdul Mohsin Al-Firm, chief of the Harb tribe, was the first to speak. He was plainly very angry and cried out, ‘Imam, these people are out to cheat you and play on your sympathy. I want nothing to do with this conference. I will go to battle myself, alone.’ With that, he leapt onto his horse and was about to ride off towards the enemy. Crown Prince Saud jumped to his feet and caught him, shouting, ‘Don’t go. You will not live to see the sun set.’ After a light scuffle, Abdul Mohsin realized the foolishness of his action and the conference resumed on a more sober note. All were agreed that the rebels’ proposals for peace settlement were quite unacceptable, but Ibn Saud, who unlike Abdul Mohsin was not prone to impulsive gestures, realized that there was perhaps a possibility that his problems with the Ikhwan might be resolved without resorting to a full-scale battle. He sent letters to the chiefs of the Mutair and Utaiba tribes, again requesting their presence at the Sharia’h court and declaring that he would abide by the decision either way. As a gesture of goodwill he also sent one of his ulemas to the enemy camp, with instructions to do all he could to effect a settlement. The man entrusted with this task was Abdullah Al-Anqury, who was one of the most distinguished ulemas in the Kingdom. As religious leaders, the ulemas were regarded with total respect and were exempt from molestation even in wartime. This was a convention which the Ikhwan could be relied upon to observe scrupulously, particularly since Abdullah Al-Anqury was in charge of religious affairs in the area around the Ikhwan stronghold of Artawiya.

Without waiting for reply to his letters, the King ordered his men to strike camp. He instructed his army to make its way to Sibillah, a wheat-field at the top of the Twaiq mountain, about four miles from Zilfi. (‘Sibillah’ means ‘a stalk of wheat’.) The move was a sensible one as our position in Zilfi was not tactically sound, being in a plain overlooked by this high mountain. If the rebels had occupied the heights, they would have been very difficult to dislodge. The King decided to get there first. The journey to Sibillah involved climbing up the steep hillside of Jabal Twaiq, which was sometimes difficult for us, and particularly hard for our camels. We finally camped in a small wadi near the mountain top. Enemy scouts were never far from us, and we could see some of them stationed on the other side of the wadi on the crest of a small hill.

We spent two days camped at Sibillah while the King waited for a reply to his letters. The tension was considerable, and there was another near panic caused by members of the loyal Rawaga section of the Utaiba tribe who got lost and started firing into the air to attract attention. There was no response to the King’s message so another was sent. This time the enemy responded by sending an emissary who said to the King, ‘If you wish the court’s decision, come to our camp and sit with your own ulema and have the matter judged.’ His Majesty had the gravest doubts about this suggestion but nevertheless called a meeting of his chiefs to discuss it. Their unanimous and adamant decision was that this was merely a trap and that if the King went to the enemy camp he would never return. Heeding their advice, His Majesty sent word to the IKhwan that their proposals were not acceptable. The enemy then proposed a compromise to the effect that the king should erect a tent between the opposing camps and that two of their representatives should meet him there. This too was considered very dangerous and firmly rejected. Eventually, after much hard bargaining and coming and going by messengers, it was agreed that one of the Ikhwan chiefs would meet the King in His Majesty’s camp, subject to strict guarantees of safety.

The following day we learnt that the chief was to be none other than the indomitable Faisal Ad-Dawish himself. This news was greeted with great excitement; everybody was anxious to catch a glimpse of the great man. Although Ad-Dawish was our enemy, he had a charisma about him which was second only to that of the King himself. His bravery, perseverance and endurance were legendary, and his selfless courage inspired unquestioning devotion among the men he led. When he arrived in our camp he came unarmed but with eight Mutair warriors accompanying him on horseback as his personal bodyguard. One of these was his cousin Faisal Ibn Shiblan. An important stipulation which Ad-Dawish had made before agreeing to meet His Majesty was that the King’s tent should be empty, apart from the King himself. My own tent was near to the King’s so I was well placed to observe the proceedings. The King’s tent had four openings, one at each corner. Two men from Ad-Dawish’s bodyguard went to each opening; with military precision, they lifted all four tent flaps simultaneously so as to satisfy themselves that the agreement had been kept or, if it had not, to dispose of any potential assassin. The King was alone in his tent, as had been agreed, and both men then gave oaths to do the other no harm. His Majesty gave to Ad-Dawish the traditional bond of safety, saying, ‘You are under my protection,’ and both men went into the tent. The talks in the King’s tent lasted for over an hour, after which Ad-Dawish came out and ordered his bodyguards to surrender their arms because a temporary truce had been agreed. He was then invited to eat with the King and was entertained in a manner befitting an honoured guest.

A traditional martial parade was ordered by the King in honour of his guest, although His Majesty no doubt also intended it as a reminder of his military prowess and strength. First to march past were the cavalry, with members of each tribe shouting out their age-old war-cries. The uncompromising Abdul Mohsin Al-Firm had composed a new war slogan for the occasion, and as he passed Ad-Dawish he shouted out, ‘Armed with my belief in the one, true God, I am the comrade of those who respond to His call. Woe to the enemies of the Sharia’h; let them beware of our wrath.’ In case the rebels should miss the point, one of our tribesmen shouted to Faisal Ibn Shiblan, ‘That means you.’ Amidst these displays one of the horses had to be destroyed after falling into an ant-hole and breaking a foreleg. The horseman took the reins from his dead beast and approached His Majesty, saying in the blunt manner of the desert, ‘My Lord, I want compensation for my mare.’ The King replied, ‘You will get it.’ One of Ad-Dawish’s bodyguard who was standing nearby muttered, ‘Prepare its reins,’ which was taken by the King’s servants as a jeer meaning, ‘You will get nothing.’ They were furious and immediately set upon the man, intending to tear him apart for his rash words. An ugly incident was avoided only by the King’s personal intervention and he immediately had a heavy guard posted to protect Ad-Dawish and his men from further violence.

In the evening, as the desert sun slowly sank below the western hills, His Majesty and Ad-Dawish turned towards Mecca and prayed. There is nothing which can compare with the glory of a desert sunset, with the sand-dunes sharply silhouetted against the golden light of the setting sun. It was an important and moving moment for us all, and especially for His Majesty, as it was his fervent prayer that war would be avoided. Ad-Dawish spent the night in the tent next to the King’s own which was normally occupied by His Majesty’s personal servants. This was partly for Ad-Dawish’s own protection but also enabled Ibn Saud to keep a careful eye on him. Talks continued throughout the following day, and as night approached the King again sought to persuade Ad-Dawish to settle their dispute by taking the whole matter to the Sharia’h court. Ad-Dawish replied, ‘I will speak with Ibn Bijad and tomorrow we may return. But I warn you that if we do not come, our absence will mean war.’ Then at sunset the rebel chief and his bodyguard mounted their horses and rode away. When Ad-Dawish returned to his camp, he is reputed to have told Ibn Bijad that the King’s army was full of fat townsmen who would be of no value if it came to real battle. He was heard to say to Ibn Bijad, ‘They are about as much use as camel-bags without handles!’

There followed another tense night in the King’s camp as we all waited to see what morning would bring. His Majesty was concerned about the possibility of a surprise attack and posted an advance guard (the members of which were known as dhahurs) between our camp and enemy. He also ordered that single shots should be fried periodically throughout the night in order to keep his soldiers alert, although he took the precaution of having everybody warned about this beforehand.

The following day was 30 March 1929. At the first light of dawn His Majesty dressed for battle. After morning prayers, men were sent to fetch water; a plentiful supply was important in case we should be drawn away from our watering-holes during the progress of the battle. Over the previous three days the King’s army had gradually grown in strength as loyal tribesmen and townsmen arrived from the surrounding area, anxious both to increase the size of His Majesty’s forces and to diminish the resources of his treasury. Each tribal chief who arrived was paid six gold pounds, and each common tribesman and townsman received three pounds. It is difficult to say exactly how large the royal army had become but I would estimate that it was between thirty and forty thousand strong. The Ikhwan force was considerably smaller; it could not have numbered more than fifteen thousand, and was possibly not more than ten thousand. But the Ikhwan troops were fierce, hardened and experienced warriors, fanatically brave and determined. The King’s force had been hastily gathered together, and contained many men with little or no experience of desert war. Hence our apprehension at the possibility of battle, for the issue was far from certain and the following evening could well have found us all dead, or fleeing before a victorious Ikhwan army.

Early in the morning, it was usual for the dhahurs who had been sent out in the night to be relieved and return to camp for their breakfast. Although breakfast usually consisted only of dates and a cup of water (or coffee for the more fortunate), the tribesmen placed great store by it. They considered dates to contain all the nourishment they required. Dates were known as masamir al rikab, which can be roughly translated as ‘joints of the knees’, meaning that the bedouin thought that they gave great strength. But since Ibn Bijad and Ad- Dawish showed no signs of appearing, His Majesty sent out messengers to the dhahurs telling them to hold their positions for the time being, and breakfast would be delivered to them. In a last effort for peace, the King dispatched an emissary to the Ikhwan camp, asking for a final answer to his demands. Then he ordered his army to proceed to a wadi known as the Wadi of Ibn Jurallah, which was about twenty minutes’ march away and had until now been a kind of no man’s land between us and the enemy. His Majesty was mounted on a splendid war-horse; the members of the Court, including myself, followed directly behind him on foot. During the events of the next hour I was able to see and hear clearly everything which the King did.

As we moved forward, a messenger from the enemy camp rode towards us, shouting, ‘Where is the King? Where is the King?’ He was directed to His Majesty and said to him, ‘Imam, we ask you to spare the heads of our people and whatever compensation you want us to pay for our deeds we shall pay it, be it camels or whatever else you ask – just spare the lives of our people.’ Ibn Saud replied calmly, ‘It is not only a question of camels. You have also killed men and your chiefs must answer to the Sharia’h court and abide by its decision.’ There was a convention in the desert that the chief of a tribe was held responsible for any murder committed, until the real culprit could be found and brought to justice. In this case, neither of the chiefs had come forward to accept responsibility for the ambush and murder of Ibn Sharida’s caravan en route for Damascus.

Our emissary then returned, saying, ‘My Lord, I could not get to them. As soon as I approached they began firing.’ His Majesty paused for a moment and then cried out, ‘Trust in God and prepare to fight.’ Then, just as generations of warrior Kings had done before him, he bent down, took up handfuls of sand and began to throw them in the direction of the enemy. This is an act which, according to tradition, had been performed by the Prophet Mohammed prior to battle. The symbolic meaning of the action is, ‘O God, confuse and confound the enemy.’

As the King’s army approached the enemy, heavy firing broke out on both sides and lasted for about ten minutes. The enemy had an advantage over us because they had taken up positions on the higher side of the Wadi of Ibn Jurallah and had built a makeshift wall of large, loose stones for cover. At this moment the King was aided by a piece of good luck. From their higher position, the enemy saw a large number of Ibn Saud’s men returning swiftly to camp. The Ikhwan jumped to the conclusion that their initial fusillade had thrown the King’s forces into retreat. This was quite untrue, for what the Ikhwan were actually witnessing was the return of the dhahurs, who were exhausted after a long spell of duty in the open and had at last been relieved and ordered by His Majesty to return to the rear of the firing-line in order to receive their dates and water. Mistakenly thinking victory to be in their grasp, the enemy abandoned their well-fortified positions and ran down towards the lower ground to pursue the King’s men.

Amongst our forces was a sizeable machine-gun detachment, equipped with about a dozen guns, under the command of Ibrahim Ibn Muammar. The King had suspected that the Ikhwan were ignorant of the existence of his machine-guns, and so he had given Ibn Muammar strict instructions not to throw away the advantage of surprise by using them too early. Ibn Muammar’s orders were to hold his fire until a suitable opportunity arose for the machine-guns to be used to maximum effect. His men had therefore sat behind their weapons in mounting frustration during the opening stages of the battle, without firing a single shot. Their patience was rewarded when the Ikhwan suddenly presented a perfect target by leaving their cover and advancing towards them in bunched groups. Ibn Muammar gave the order to fire. The result was devastating, and within seconds almost all the advancing tribesmen had been killed or seriously wounded. When the surviving Ikhwan saw what had happened, they immediately started to withdraw. At that moment the King ordered his sons Prince Saud and Prince Mohammed, who had been waiting on the right flank, to charge with their cavalry in pursuit of the retreating army. As the cavalry approached them, the retreat of the Ikhwan became a rout. Many of the Ikhwan were slaughtered by the Prince’ exultant horsemen as they overran the fleeing foot-soldiers of the enemy. When he realized what was happening, Ibn Saud sent word to his sons to pull back. Ever merciful, he abhorred pointless slaughter, and in any event there was a danger that the cavalry would go too far and find themselves cut off. The horsemen reluctantly obeyed the King’s command and broke off their engagement, allowing the Ikhwan to retreat without further molestation to Artawiya.

So ended the battle of Sibillah. The whole affair had probably lasted no more than half an hour. It may seem strange that the Ikhwan, who were renowned for their fanatical bravery, should have chosen to flee rather than stand and fight; but it should be realized that fighting to the last man had never been a convention of desert war. It was considered quite acceptable and usual to retreat from the field once the fortunes of battle had turned in favour of the enemy. One lived to fight another day, and it was a simple matter for a defeated force to regroup. Anyone who chose to remain behind and make a stand would have been considered stupid rather than brave. As a result, the number of casualties in desert warfare was not normally severe. Although many thousands of men had been involved in the battle of Sibillah, the King lost only about two hundred dead and two hundred wounded. Thanks to Ibn Muammar’s machine-guns, the Ikhwan suffered more heavily and lost about five hundred dead and similar number wounded. These casualties were in fact considered unusually high for a desert battle.

After the battle, the cavalry returned to our camp in high spirits and a mood of festivity prevailed. It was obvious that the King had won a major success, for this was the first time that the Ikhwan had ever suffered a military defeat. It was an ancient tradition dating back as far as Roman times that after a battle, when blood had been shed, all old loyalties were terminated and new ones had to be made. Accordingly, all the tribal chiefs and amirs in the camp came to the King’s tent to offer their allegiance anew. Another tradition was that warriors were entitled to compensation for any losses in battle. Outside His Majesty’s tent a long queue formed, consisting of tribesmen claiming reimbursement for camels, horses and arms lost in the battle. No doubt many of the claims were exaggerated or entirely false, but the King was generous by nature and this was no time for financial prudence. All the claimants were given written notes authorizing them to collect money from the Treasury in Riyadh.

The King had one unexpected visitor. Ad-Dawish’s cousin, Faisal Ibn Shiblan of the Mutair tribes, entered the camp carrying a large bundle of grass over his shoulders so that nobody could see his face. When challenged, he asked for the tent of Crown Prince Saud, saying, ‘It is grass for his horses.’ He was directed to the Prince’s tent, left his bundle of grass outside and walked in. The Prince’s first thought was that Ibn Shiblan had come to assassinate him. But Ibn Shiblan was unarmed. ‘I am at your mercy,’ he said to the Prince. ‘Please take me to your father; I wish to speak to him.’ He was taken to see the King, and informed his Majesty that the womenfolk of Ad-Dawish would come to his camp the following day. This was another tradition of desert war, representing the symbolic acceptance of defeat by a vanquished chief. By convention, the women of the beaten tribe would be given food and a tent by the victors and would remain in their camp for three days. They would not be molested in any way and would be under the protection of their hosts. When the three days were up they would return to their home. After delivering his message, Ibn Shiblan was given safe conduct back to his village of Artawiya, which was not very far from where the King was camped.

There was an unfortunate occurrence after the battle, when a band of rebel tribesmen, who had come to see if there was anyone still alive on the battlefield, were mistaken for a raiding party and killed by servants of Prince Mohammed. The king was furious and threatened to execute the servants, but he relented when he realized that there had been a genuine error. Apart from this incident, all the usual chivalries were observed and the wounded on both sides were treated by the King’s own doctor, Midhat Sheikh Al-Ardah. Unfortunately, there was not a great deal the doctor could do as his facilities were very limited, but it was quite a novelty in desert warfare to have a doctor available at all. One of the enemy wounded was put in a tent next to mine. He was a giant of a man who had been shot in both legs and one arm. He made no complaint and just sat in the tent as if nothing had happened. Such hardiness was not uncommon among these tough, resilient desert warriors.

After the King had spent about three days at Sibillah, the womenfolk of Ad-Dawish were sent home and His Majesty prepared to leave. He realized that further fighting might be necessary, for the rebel troops who had fled at Sibillah could easily regroup and challenge him again. He decided to march to Artawiya, which was only a few miles to the east of Sibillah. Artawiya had been the first Ikhwan settlement and was now a town of some size. It was governed by Ad-Dawish himself, and was the centre of his power. The defeated Ikhwan had chosen it as the obvious place to which they should withdraw. The only way in which the king could be sure of ending the revolt would be by capturing the Ikhwan leaders, particularly Ibn Bijad and Ad-Dawish themselves. Ad-Dawish was now known to be in Artawiya, and to get to him the King was prepared to take the settlement by force if necessary.

On our way to Artawiya we came to a small pass where we were confronted by a group of about fifty horsemen led by Abdul Aziz, the son of Ad-Dawish. Showing great audacity, Abdul Aziz rode up to the King and said to him, ‘O Protected, what is it that you want? ‘I want Artawiya,’ said the King bluntly. ‘What do you want with Artawiya?’ asked Abdul Aziz, to which the King replied, ‘I just want your father and nothing else.’ Abdul Aziz pleaded with His Majesty not to assault the town and promised that he would bring his father to the King. His Majesty readily agreed, for there were about seven thousand people in Artawiya, and to take it by force would have involved much bloodshed. He ordered his army to march round the town and make camp at a place called Zibda, where it was agreed that we would meet Ad-Dawish.

Before we left, His Majesty made his camel sit and invited me to eat with him. His cook brought the meal of rice and meat, and after we had both eaten we mounted our camels for the ride to Zibda. His Majesty had a thoroughbred camel which had a natural ability to give its owner the smoothest possible ride over rocky ground. It was a remarkable animal and appeared to have the suspension of a Cadillac. Any ordinary camel would jerk its rider up and down with every bump it crossed, but if one watched the King while he rode his camel over rough ground, he appeared to be travelling in a perfectly straight line. There is a breed of pure Arab horse which gives this smooth ride, but it is very rare in a camel. My own camel was obstinate, bad-tempered, uncomfortable and slow. I had a most frightening experience on the way to Zibda because my beast was travelling so slowly that I became separated from the rest of my group and found myself lost in a desolate area strewn with huge boulders. The camel was acting wildly, throwing me about as it struggled to gain a footing on the rocky ground. I was afraid it would break a leg and leave me in the wilderness with no means of escape. Suddenly I saw two bedouin. This did not relieve my anxiety but rather increased it, for if they had been hostile they could easily have killed me for the sake of my rifle and provisions. Fortunately they ignored me and my camel stumbled on. Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, I came to an open space and saw the others and their camels. Needless to say, I received little sympathy as everybody seemed to think it a great joke that I had managed to get lost in the first place.

Latter the day, we reached Zibda and made camp. A meal was prepared, consisting of boiled rice with meat and butter oil. Here we awaited the promised arrival of Abdul Aziz Ad- Dawish and his father. They came the next day, when to our surprise we saw that Faisal Ad-Dawish was being carried on a stretcher. During the battle of Sibillah he had received a somewhat bizarre stomach-wound. He had been shot from the side and the bullet had entered one side of his sizeable paunch and gone out of the other. The wound was obviously very serious and everyone was astonished that he was still alive. Abdul Aziz’s first action on entering our camp was to request that the King should have a bath and change his clothes before meeting Faisal Ad-Dawish, in order to ensure that His Majesty’s clothing should be fresh and free from any possible scent. (The bedouin have a fixed idea that scent can infect wounds.) His Majesty naturally complied with this request, and meanwhile ordered his doctor to attend to Faisal Ad-Dawish. When the two men finally met, Ad-Dawish was reprimanded severely for his wrongdoings. Then the king said to him, ‘You are no match for me. I am too powerful. I pardon you; you may go wherever you like and I will give you whatever you need. But your future actions and behavior, good or bad, will be judged by me and dealt with accordingly.’ Ad-Dawish expressed his gratitude for the King’s mercy and said he would like to go to Kuwiat. He requested money, water-bags, arms, and equipment for drawing water. The King immediately wrote out letters addressed to his agent in Kuwait, Abdullah Al-Niffisi, asking for these supplies to be granted and graciously handed the letters to the rebel chief.

We were all most surprised that His Majesty let Faisal Ad-Dawish go so easily. But the King was always at his most compassionate in victory, and at the time it appeared he had little to lose by letting Ad-Dawish go free. The stomach wound was very bad and seemed certain to prove fatal. There was another, perhaps more important, reason: His Majesty was anxious to catch Ibn Bijad, and realized that Bijad would be more amenable to surrendering himself voluntarily when he heard of the treatment Ad-Dawish had received. There was one further consideration, of which His Majesty may have been aware but I certainly was not. Some years later I was speaking to a bedouin who turned out to be the son of Faisal Ibn Shiblan, the man who had come disguised to Prince Saud’s tent at Sibillah. He told me that, although Ad-Dawish had come to our camp accompanied only by a few servants, five thousand of his men had secretly surrounded us ready to attack if their chief was not released.

After the meeting of Ad-Dawish, His Majesty sent word to Ibn Bijad requesting Ibn Bijad to meet him in the town of Shaqra. The King and his entourage then left for the town of Majma’a, in the province of Sudair, where we rested for two days. Here the king stayed with Sheikh Ibrahim Al-Ungary, who was an ulema and the Qadhi (religious judge) of Sudair. We then proceeded to Shaqra, which was about fifty miles to the south, and waited patiently to see whether or not Ibn Bijad would answer the King’s summons. Ibn Bijad was the chief of the Utaiba tribe, whose territory extended from Riyadh all away to Mecca. It was a much larger tribe than the Mutair, and in terms of the number of men he commanded, Ibn Bijad was much more powerful than Ad-Dawish. However, the King had always regarded Ad-Dawish as the more dangerous man because he was uncommonly shrewd and clever. Ibn Bijad, despite his undisputed bravery and fortitude, had never been renowned for his intellect. He rose to the bait and came to Shaqra with about fifty of his tribesmen, no doubt expecting to receive the same lenient treatment as Ad-Dawish. But this time there were no enemy troops surrounding the King’s camp. His Majesty chastised Ibn Bijad with the words, ‘You are nothing, Biijad. You thought you were someone, but it is Ad-Dawish who was clever!’ Ibn Bijad and two of his followers were then promptly imprisoned and sent to Riyadh in chains.

Leaving Shaqra, we went to Ha’il via Buraida and Ar-Rass. While in Buraida the King left suddenly to go to Unayzah, where he married a girl from one of the prominent families there, the Ash-Shubaily. This was intended as a mark of his gratitude and respect for the people of Unayzah, who had given him strong support against the Ikhwan. He had instructed his retinue to proceed to Ar-Rass and await him there but two of his clerks disobeyed orders and followed the King to Unayzah. They were simply curious to visit the town, and had not thought that His Majesty would object. That evening, they entered the majlis of the Amir. Unfortunately, the King himself arrived at the Amir’s house soon afterwards and caught the culprits red-handed. He gave orders that they should be put in prison. They were only released when the Amir himself appealed to the King on their behalf, saying, ‘As you are all guests in my town. Please excuse them.’ The King had told nobody about his marriage plans, and it came as a complete surprise to us all when he later joined us at Ar-Rass and informed us that he had a new wife.

When he arrived at Ar-Rass the King was presented with a tricky diplomatic problem. At Sibillah the royal army had been accompanied by Sheik Saleh Al-Adahel, very prominent elder who lived at Ar-Rass and was considered to be one of the wisest men in Najd. When Sheikh Saleh realized that the King would be visiting his town, he immediately asked His Majesty to have lunch at his home. Naturally the King agreed. However, after Ibn Saud had entered Ar-Rass, the Amir of the town also extended an invitation to lunch. His Majesty was obliged to decline, explaining that he had already agreed to eat with Sheikh Saleh and that he was only staying one day. The Amir was most put out and declared, ‘If you do not accept the courtesy that I have extended to you, I will leave the country and never return.’ The King decided to resolve his dilemma with a clever compromise. The food for the meal was to be prepared by Sheikh Saleh and eaten in the house of the Amir. Everyone was satisfied with the arrangement. Since the Amir’s house was not large enough to accommodate all the King’s many followers, we were divided into three groups, following the pattern of the Royal Courts in Riyadh. (The first, and most important, Court was foreign affairs; the second was for the internal affairs of Central Arabia; the third was for the bedouin, or tribesmen.) Each group was sent to eat at a different house in the town. The rest of the followers were distributed among the other inhabitants. We all dispersed to our various appointed houses.

In the house where I was to eat there was an  unfortunate incident. In Riyadh it was the custom for the meat to be served before the rice. Unbeknown to us, the custom in Ar-Rass was different and they served the rice before the meat. When the rice arrived the Chief of the Court flew into a temper, thinking that we were being insulted by not being served any meat. He walked out and ordered us to follow. Just as we were doing so the meat arrived, causing considerable embarrassment all round because it was a custom common to both towns that once one had risen from the table one did not return to it. In consequence we had to leave the house and go without lunch altogether. To make matters worse, our host then complained to the King about our insultingly abrupt departure from his table!

It should be noted here that the amirs were not appointed by the government, but elected by the citizens of each town. Very occasionally – in case of the death of an amir, for example – the government might appoint a successor, but normally the choice of the citizens was respected and recognized by central government. The amirs were normally loyal to the government, and were considered to be the owners of the towns they ruled over.

Leaving Ar-Rass, the King continued on his journey to the former Rashidi capital of Ha’il, a stronghold of the Shammar tribe, who were renowned throughout Arabia not only for the superb bravery of their men but also for the beauty of their women. The girls were so beautiful that the Arabs had a facetious joke among themselves: ‘As a last resort we’ll make do with a Shammar girl.’ Such was the reputation of Ha’il that everybody’s imagination started to run wild, and the common desire of all was to marry a Shammar girl without delay. Many actually did so, including one of the King’s Indian drivers. He was so carried away by the stories of the local beauties that he imagined every Shammar woman to have the features of Cleopatra and he expressed a strong desire to marry such a woman. Some of his Arab friends promised to arrange an immediate marriage for him with a lovely local virgin. A girl was found and the marriage ceremony took a place at once. As is usual, the ceremony was performed before the local religious judge, or Qadhi. The girl’s father was present but the girl herself, if she was there at all, would have been hidden behind a screen. The man would not see his wife unveiled until the night of the wedding. As darkness fell, the impatient Indian was escorted by his friends to the tent of his new wife and there they bade him good night. The following morning, as dawn broke, a cry of rage issued from the marriage bed and the Indian burst from the tent and divorced his wife there and then. I can only presume that in the cold light day he saw that the lady his friends had provided for him was not exactly the Cleopatra of his dreams.

On leaving Ha’il, the King and his Court travelled to Hejaz for His Majesty’s somewhat interrupted annual pilgrimage. The King made arrangements for his family and new wife to follow after him. While in Hejaz, he ordered the release of some prominent citizens of Mecca and Jeddah who had been held under house arrest in Riyadh on charges of conspiracy. When His Majesty arrived in Jeddah, he received some very bad news in the shape of a telegram from Bahrain informing him that Amir Fahd Ibn Jelawi had been killed by rebellious members of the Ajman tribe. This was a harsh blow for His Majesty, for he had considered Fahd a valued friend. During the battle of Sibillah, Fahd had protected the King’s eastern flank while Abdul Aziz Ibn Mussaud, Governor of Ha’il, had faced Chief Ibn Mash’hur’s attack from the north. Without the help of Fahdd and Ibn Mussaud (both cousins of the King) the battle might have been lost.

As will be seen, Sibillah certainly did not mark the end of the King’s troubles with the Ikhwan. Nevertheless, it broke the backbone of the Ikhwan movement, and made it clear to all that Ibn Saud was determined to be master in his own house and would not tolerate the usurping of his power by others. It also had far-reaching effects which were felt for a long time afterwards, because those tribes or branches of tribes which had joined in the revolt were in disgrace for many years, and the tribes which had assisted the King became favoured. At the time of the King’s death, over twenty years later, this division was still an important factor in Arabian politics.