“Woe unto thee, Abu Sofian; seest thou not that there are no gods but God?”

But he answered with professions of his regard for Mahomet.

“Woe unto thee, Abu Sofian; believest thou not that I am the Prophet of God?”

“Thou art well appraised by us, and I see thy great goodness among the companions.  As for what thou hast said I know not the wherefore of it.”

Then Abbas, standing by Mahomet, besought him: 

“Woe unto thee, Abu Sofian; become one of the Faithful and believe there is no god but God and that Mahomet is his Prophet before we sever thy head from the body!”

Under such strong compulsion, says tradition, Abu Sofian was converted and sent back to Mecca with promises of clemency.  It is almost impossible not to believe that collusion between Abbas and Abu Sofian existed before this interview.  Abbas had given the lead, for his prescience had divined the uselessness of resistance, and he foresaw greater glory as the upholder of Islam, the triumphing cause, than as the vain opposer of what he firmly believed to be an all-conquering power.  Abu Sofian took somewhat longer to convince, and never really gave up his dream of resistance until he met Abbas on the fateful night and was shown the vastness of the Medinan army, their good organisation and their boundless enthusiasm.  Thereat his hopes of victory became dust, and he bowed to the inevitable in the same manner as Abbas had done before him, though from different motives, one being actuated by the desire for favour and fame, the other only anxious to save his city from the horrors of a prolonged and ultimately unsuccessful siege.

Thereafter the army marched upon Mecca, and Mahomet completed his plans for a peaceful entry.  Zobeir, one of his most trusted commanders, was to enter from the north, Khalid and the Bedouins from the southern or lower suburb, where possible resistance might be met, as it was the most populous and turbulent quarter.  Abu Obeida, followed by Mahomet, took the nearest road, skirting Jebel Hind.  It was an anxious time as the force divided and made its appointed way so as to come upon the city from three sides.  Mahomet watched his armies from the rear in a kind of paralysis of thought, which overtakes men of action who have provided for every contingency and now can do nothing but wait.  Khalid alone encountered opposition, but his skill and the force behind him soon drove the Meccans back within their narrow streets, and there separated them into small companies, robbing them of all concerted action, and rendering them an easy prey to his oncoming soldiery.  Mahomet drew breath once more, and seeing all was well and that the other entries had been peacefully effected, directed his tent to be pitched to the north of the city.

It was, in fact, a bloodless revolution.  Mahomet, the outcast, the despised, was now lord of the whole splendid city that stretched before his eyes.  He had seen what few men are vouchsafed, the material fulfilment of his year-long dreams, and knew it was by his own tireless energy and overmastering faith that they had been wrought upon the soil of his native land.