advance. Northern Syria had a large population of Armenians and Syriacs,
and in Lebanon there were many Maronites. Many of these groups joined
ranks with the invading Christian army and provided them with intelligence
and acted as their guides.^"
With the establishment of the four crusader city-states^^ accomplished,
the Franks turned their attention to capturing the Muslim-held coastal cities,
which would enable them to secure their supply lines and communication
with Europe. The Italian cities, motivated by commercial opportunities,
helped them secure this task. Genoa aided in the capture of Caesarea in
1101, Tartous in 1102, Acre and Jubail in 1104 and Tripoli in 1109; and
Venice assisted in seizing Beirut and Sidon in 1110, as well as Tyre in 1124.
Only Ascalon - which did not fall until 1153 - remained in Muslim hands.
In all this the Muslims provided feeble if any resistance. It was the caliph
who was expected to take the lead in the defence of Muslim lands against
the Franlcs, but the caliph was litde more than a Seljuq puppet, and the
Seljuq sultan never came in person to lead his armies into Syria against the
Franks. What is noteworthy is that the initial resistance to the Franks came
not from the military but from the ulama, the religious scholars. ^^ As early
as 1099 al-Harawi, the chief qadi of Damascus, preached a sermon in the
Great Mosque of Baghdad in which he pleaded for aid - 'Your brothers in
Syria have no home other than the saddles of their camels or the entrails of
vultures' - but his words struck no chord. A few years later, in 1111, clerics
from Aleppo made their way to Baghdad. They knew that words on their
own would not move armies, so instead they disrupted the performance of
the Friday prayers and prevented the preacher from delivering the sermon.
This was shocking behaviour and it was meant to be so - an attempt to
shalce and shame the authorities into action. And the caliph was indeed
shocked and angered, but not because he was moved by the desperate
actions of the Aleppans but because the disruptions clashed with the arrival
• 23 •
SALADIN
in Baghdad of his beautiful new bride from Isfahan. He even sought to
punish the agitators for their disruptions.^'
And yet despite the Muslim apathy, paralysis and fear that allowed the
crusaders to sweep through their land, a stubborn fact stands out: tlie territ-
ory occupied by the crusaders was limited to a narrow long strip of land
bordering the Mediterranean and their forays eastwards and inland into the
Muslim heardand were unsuccessful. Outremer - that collection of Idng-
doms and principalides which the Christians founded - was dangerously
fragile. Even when the crusaders were at the peak of their power, its great-
est length was 135 Idlometres (85 miles), and its greatest width only 65 kilo-
metres (40 miles). In some places it was even narrower; between Beirut and
Tripoli, the Franldsh occupation went only 30 kilometres (20 miles)
inland." The Franks had been unable to capture Damascus, nor did Aleppo
fall in the north, and the frontier cities of Homs and Hama also remained
in Muslim hands. The only major inland success was Edessa, and Edessa was
the first crusader state to be extinguished.^® At the same time it became
rapidly clear that the land conquered by the Franks was too large for them
to occupy just with their people. The land could not remain uncultivated
nor could trade cease. In fact it was the issue of land rather than that of holy
war which dictated the external policy of the Franks throughout the twelfth
century. Land and its possession was responsible for the aggressive warfare
waged by the early Latin rulers,^® and land could only be controlled once
the walled towns and casties which lay within had fallen.
It is not possible to mention Edessa without mentioning Imad al-Din
Zengi. Atabegi^ ofMosul from I I 2 7 and ruler of Aleppo from 1128, Zengi
built a powerful empire in northern Syria and Mesopotamia, but his ambi-
tions did not rest there; in 1135 Hama fell to him, and Homs and Baalbek
followed, but the ultimate prize - the one he craved most, Damascus - eluded
him. In 1135, 1137 and 1139 Zengi attempted to capture Damascus and
each time, to thwart him, the Burids of Damascus were forced to malce a
treaty with the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, who in return was glad to help,
as their biggest fear was a unified Mosul, Aleppo and Damascus. Not by
force would Damascus open its gates, but by persuasion, and not to him but
to his son. Raised in the hard school of the military aristocracy of his day,^®
Zengi was a ruthless commander who ruled his territories with a rod
of iron.^' In his men he inspired not love or respect but fear, for they
recognised in him a cruel streak and kept their distance. 'Like a leopard in
• 24 •
2: T H E T U R N I N G O F T H E T I D E
character', is how Saladin's contemporary biographer Imad al-Din
al-Isfahani described him, 'and lilce a lion in fury'. The twelfth-century
historian Ibn al-Adim writes that when Zengi was on horseback the troops
used to walk behind him and those who transgressed were crucified.
Nevertheless, as Hillenbrand writes, 'all his misdeeds were pardoned by
the Muslim chroniclers',^" and the reason for this was Edessa. In 1144, on
Christmas Eve, Zengi gained his most famous victory when the city, one of
the four crusader principalities, fell to his army. The news sent shock-waves
throughout Europe and precipitated the Second Crusade, for both sides
understood the symbolic value of what had just occurred. The fall of Edessa
meant that henceforth the Franks were confined to the Levant, and more
importantly it signalled the end of the defensive period in the Muslim
resistance. The tide had turned.
The establishment of Saladin's father and uncle
Mosul was indeed Zengi's city, but there was a time when he nearly lost it
all and was in desperate need for a favour to avoid disaster. It was with that
favour that we first hear of Saladin's father. We know what we know about
Saladin's ancestry largely thanks to the biographer Ibn Khallikan, who was
born 18 years after Saladin's death and who made a special study into the
history of his family.^^ Ibn Khallikan noted that Saladin's family originated
from Dvin which lay on the left bank of the river Garni, which flows into
the Araxes in Armenia (near the modern town of Tiflis). Near the gate of
Dvin, he writes, was located a village called Ajdanaqan, all the inhabitants
of which were Kurds, and it was there that Ayyub, the father of Saladin
and the son of Shadi, was born. The family belonged to the Kurdish tribe
of Rawadiya. Ibn Khallikan then concludes, 'I have careftilly studied their
genealogy but have not found any mention beyond S h a d i ' I n t e r e s t i n g l y the crusaders noted Saladin's background accurately, 'not of noble parents,
but not a low plebeian of obscure b l o o d ' L i k e most Kurds, Saladin's fam-
ily were Sunni Muslims and followed the Shafii madhab. It is important to
lay to rest the myth about Saladin's background and to resist the temptation
to romanticise his early years. For example, there is a common idea that the
Kurds led a wild pastoral life and were a gallant and warlike people, imper-
vious as a rule to civilisation. Gallant and warlike they may have been, but
they were equally astute political players. In an age of violence, a certain
• 25 •
SALADIN
worldly understanding of the rules of realpolitik was indispensable to
sumval. As Minorslcy eloquently puts it, 'in a word, Saladin's father and
uncle did not come to Iraq and Syria as semi-barbarous shepherds . . .
They brought with them recollections of a whole system of politics and
behavior.Nevertheless they were Kurds - to a large extent outsiders - in
a world dominated by Turks, who looked down upon them. Saladin himself
would suffer from this discrimination, which in many ways was not unlike
that of a Corsican trying to establish himself in France. And he was definitely
a Kurd, even though some have claimed that Saladin was originally an Arab,
arguing that many Arab tribes often settled in Kurdish areas and married
among them. Those who argued this even traced Saladin's lineage back to
the Umayyad caliph, Marwan, whose mother was Kurdish, pointing to his
ancestral line as Yusuf, son of Najm al-Din Ayyub, son of Shadi, son of
Marwan. This is certainly fictitious and probably an Arab attempt to 'claim'
Saladin when he was at the height of his power.
Accompanied by his two sons - Najm al-Din Ayyub (described by
ElisseefF as 'Get homme, plein de sagesse et connaissant bien la nature
humaine')^® and Asad al-Din Shirkuh - Saladin's grandfather, Shadi,
travelled to Baghdad, where he had some contacts and was appointed as
guardian of the citadel in Tikrit, which lay on the Tigris north of Baghdad
just under halfway to Mosul. There is no definite date as to when Shadi set-
ded in Tikrit, but it would probably have been in the 1120s. Tilcrit had been
granted to Mujahid al-Din Bihruz who, as the governor and the poUce chief
in Baghdad, delegated Shadi to control the city on his behalf It appears that
Bihruz and Shadi had been friends in Dvin and it was there that Bihruz had
been discovered in a compromising position with the wife of an official and
as a result was castrated. He then joined the service of the Seljuqs where the
sultan employed him to the guardianship of his children - a position which
only eunuchs held. From that moment his career flourished until he became
the wali (governor) and shihna (chief of police) of Baghdad, a post which
he held for more than 30 years until his death in 1145.^®
Shadi died in Tilait, we are uncertain when exactiy, and his tomb -
covered by a cupola - is located within the town, and Ayyub took over his
father's position. And so things would have probably remained - an hon-
ourable but unambitious post for Ayyub - if it were not for the one incident
which ultimately would change everything and transform the fortunes of his
family. The incident occurred in 1131 and involved Zengi, who at that time
• 26 •
2; T H E T U R N I N G OF T H E T I D E
was the atabeg of Mosul. During one of the many internecine struggles
which plagued the era, Zengi had marched on Baghdad but was defeated
and his forces scattered. Beating a hasty retreat with his bedraggled army,
he reached Tikiit, where he urgendy appealed to Ayyub for shelter and help
to allow him to reach Mosul safely. Not only did Ayyub have no reason to
help Zengi, it was against his interests to do so, as he was holding Tikrit for
the powers in Baghdad whom Zengi had attacked. But he sensed something
- perhaps he recognised that Zengi's star was in the ascendant - and went
against his instructions and allowed Zengi refuge in the citadel, where he
remained for 15 days. Ayyub then helped Zengi cross the Tigris and afforded
him supplies to enable him to reach Mosul. And that was that; Zengi went
on his way and Bihruz, though angered by Ayyub took no action.
Six years were to pass, until in 1137 another incident occurred, this time
concerning not Ayyub but Shirkuh. Unlike his taciturn brother, Shirkuh
was a fiery man, a formidable military commander but one possessed with
a short temper. Falling into an argument with one of Bihruz's scribes,
Shirkuh struck and killed him, and when news of this incident reached
Baghdad, Bihruz ordered that Ayyub and Shirkuh leave Tilait at once. A
rash action by Shirkuh, one which appeared to condemn his brother into
historical obscurity, but fate dictated otherwise. Gathering his womenfolk
and possessions, Ayyub, accompanied by his chastened brother, departed
Tikrit under the cover of night, uncertain where to head next, and it was on
that night, as Ayyub himself recalled many years later, that he was informed
that his wife had given birth to a son: Yusuf- better known by his title Salah
al-Din, which was corrupted by Western writers to Saladin.
Zengi had not forgotten the favour and he now summoned Ayyub and
Shirkuh to Mosul, where they entered his service. Zengi recognised that the
garrulous Shirkuh possessed formidable sldlls in military matters, while
Ayyub was more diplomatic. In 1139 he therefore placed Ayyub in charge
of the garrison of Baalbek, though not before an incident of barbarity which
greatly marked Saladin's father. For two months Baalbek had held out
against Zengi's army and with the passing of each day Zengi's frustration
grew. Negotiations dragged on between the citadel and the besieging army
ous and they asked for Zengi to swear on the Quran that he would uphold
his end of the pact, and though he did as they requested, they were right to
be suspicious. Once the gates were opened, Zengi ordered that all the men
• 27
SALADIN
be executed and the women and children sold into slaveiy. Admittedly the
fact that arsenal had been left behind in the citadel meant the terms of the
surrender had not been complied with, but the ensuing bloodshed was
excessive and counter-productive, for the people of Damascus now doubled
their efforts to prevent Zengi from seizing their city. For Ayyub the massacre
at Baalbek was horrific - for Zengi had broken his oath - and unnecessary,
for it served no purpose. In vain he tried to intervene to prevent further
spilling of blood, though Zengi did grant his request that an old man and
his son be spared. Ayyub now assumed control of the citadel and it was in
that city that Saladin spent his first few years.
It is difficult to imagine what the young Saladin would have made of
the great temples of Jupiter and Bacchus which towered over the city, and
similarly one wonders if he ever stopped and gazed at the pyramids when he
set foot in Egypt. Saladin could hardly have chosen a better place to grow
up; over 1,000 metres (3,280 feet) above sea level, Baalbek's weather was
clement in the summer and cold in the winter - in the middle of which fur
coats had to be worn. The Beka'a valley which surrounded the city was rich
in agricultural produce, and apricot and fig trees were plentiful,
and it was
in Baalbek that Ayyub, as a reflection of his tendency towards mysticism,
built a hospice for sufis, the Najmiyya (the name derived from Ayyub's first
name, Najm al-Din). It appears that Ayyub was a deeply religious man, for
during his lifetime he made a special request that he be buried near the
Prophet, a request which was ultimately fiilfilled by Saladin, who ensured
that both his father and his uncle Shirkuh were buried in Medina.
Imad al-Din al-Isfahani writes that whenever Zengi slept, 'a number of
his eunuchs used to sleep around his bed. They used to take care of him
both in his wake and sleep. They protected him like Hons in war, and visited
him even in his dreams.' The eunuchs were the sons of noble men, for it was
Zengi's habit to kill people if he became angry with them, and keep their
sons with him and castrate them. It was Yaranqash, described as the leader
of the eunuchs, who, in 1146, stabbed and killed Zengi in his tent. News
of Zengi's murder spread rapidly until it reached his two sons. Nur al-Din,
the younger son, rushed at once to the tent where the body lay. Perhaps he
had been told that his father had been slain while in a drunken stupor, or
maybe he had been spared that detail. Stepping into the tent he gazed at his
father's cold body, then, bending down he pulled the signet ring off his
father's finger and placed it on his own. A symbolic gesture by a young man
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2: T H E T U R N I N G OF T H E T I D E
whose achievements would rapidly eclipse those of his father and would
establish him as the true originator of the counter-crusade and the cham-
pion of Sunni orthodoxy in Syria.
The rise of Nur al-Din and the spread
of madrasas
News of Zengi's death had also reached the Franks, and Joscelin, the
deposed prince of Edessa, quicldy took advantage to seize back his city. At
once Nur al-Din set out to lay siege. The Franks, seeing the force of his
army, abandoned the city and its inhabitants, the majority of whom were
Christian, to the mercy of Nur al-Din. That day none was shown, and
the city was plundered and its inhabitants massacred. From that moment
neither the principality of Antioch nor the county of Edessa would be able