From this spy, Mothanna now learned that, matters having been settled at the capital, a great army was in motion against him.[217] Sending an urgent message to Jarîr, now close at hand, to hurry on, he marched forward to Boweib, on the western branch of the Euphrates, and there, close by the future site of Kûfa, and on ground commanded by a bridge, he awaited the enemy. Omar had cautioned him not again to risk his men by crossing the river before victory was secure; so he suffered Mehrân, the Persian commander, without question to defile his troops over the bridge.[218] The armies were then marshalled. The Persians advanced in three columns, an elephant surrounded by a company of footmen, at the head of each, and all with great tumult and barbaric din. It was the fast of Ramadhân; but a dispensation was given to the troops, and they had been strengthened by a repast. Mothanna, on his favourite charger (called, by the humour of his men, _the Rebel_, from its docility in action), rode along the lines, and exhorted his soldiers to quit themselves like men: ‘Your valour this day will be a proverb in the mouths of all. Be still as death,’ he cried; ‘and if ye speak aught one to the other, speak it in a whisper. None shall give way amongst us this day. I desire no glory for myself, but the glory of you all.’ And they answered him in like words; for he was beloved by his men.[219] [Sidenote: The Battle of Boweib.] The word for the advance was to be the _Takbîr_, ‘Great is the Lord!’ It was to be thrice repeated; then, on the fourth cry, the rush. But Mothanna had barely shouted the first, when the Persian myrmidons bore down in great force; and the Beni Ijl, the nearest column, broke before them. Mothanna stroked his beard in trouble. Calling an officer of his staff, he bade him hasten with this message to the wavering corps: ‘The Ameer sendeth greeting, and saith, _Ye will not this day shame the Moslems_!’ They gave answer, ‘Yea, we shall not!’ And, as the broken ranks closed up again in sharp serried line, Mothanna smiled approvingly. The battle raged long and equally. At last, Mothanna, seeing that a desperate onset must be made, rode up to the chief of the Beni Namr, and said to him: ‘Though Christian, ye are one in blood with us; come now, and as I charge, charge ye with me.’ The Persian centre quivered before the fierce onslaught, and as the dust cleared off, it was seen to be giving way. The Moslem wings, hitherto outflanked, now took heart, and charged also. Then the Persian army fell back, and made for the bridge. But Mothanna was before them. In despair, they turned on their pursuers, and the multitude was so great that again there was a moment of danger. But the fiery zeal of the Arabs, though a handful in comparison, beat back the forlorn charge. ‘The enemy,’ says an eye-witness, ‘driven before Arfaja, were brought up by the river, and finding no escape, re-formed, and charged upon us. One cried