by A R Azzam
became vizier. To the observer he is little more than a silhouette,' and we
have neither a description of him during this period nor even of the men who
surrounded him. If up until now we have not spoken much about Saladin it
was because there was little to say. And yet he emerged from nowhere to
become vizier, even though we do not even Icnow how or why. Ibn al-Athir
records that the Fatimid caliph picked Saladin in the hope of bringing him
under the palace establishment^" and of splitting the Syrian ranks: 'There
was no one weaker or younger than Yusuf [Saladin]'. But Ibn al-Athir's con-
cern was always to darken Saladin's name in favour of his Zengid masters,
and so one reads him with a certain weary wariness. The fact was the Fatimid
caliph had very little choice in the matter; the Syrian army had not fought
its way to secure Egypt only to have terms dictated to it. Imad al-Din al-
Isfahani refers to this when he writes that the Syrian amirs decided on
Saladin and 'made the Lord of the Palace invest him as vizier', but he also
admits 'opinions differed' during a three-day mourning period for Shirkuh.
It is an enigmatic phrase, and we are no closer to answering the question -
why Saladin.
The problem is that historians, so as not to make Saladin appear
ambitious, played up his early reluctance to return to Egypt. But a reluctant
•person does not a vizier make. Had he not been ambitious he would not
have won Shirkuh's respect, nor would Shirkuh have promoted Saladin to
be the commander-in-chief of the Syrian expeditionary army when he was
appointed as vizier. In addition, Saladin was under no pressure to accept this
position. In the words of Ehrenkreutz, he was not bound to assume his
uncle's political and military legacy in Egypt.^^ The amirs - Turks and Kurds
- who now surrounded him were fierce, independent men; despatched by
Nur al-Din, they served Shirkuh but were under no obligations to serve any-
one else. Shirkuh had also left behind 500 of his own mamluks, the Asadiyya,
all of whom were battle-hardened veterans, and although the mamluk sys-
tem implied servitude it did not entail servility. ^^ Their master dead, they
now looked after their own interests. Nevertheless it does seem that they
supported Saladin. Imad al-Din al-Isfahani described those amirs as 'rough
companions', driven by self-interest and respecting strength. There is a
striking image of Saladin holding a wolf by the ear^^ - clearly, this was not
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5: T H E U N L I K E L Y V I Z I E R
the place for a reluctant hero. Self-interest, however, needed to be tempered
by the Icnowledge that a great victory had been won. The land of Egypt was
theirs and the spoils and profits of war were there for the taldng. In addi-
tion, the death of Shirkuh had put the amirs in an awkward position, since
they were stationed in a foreign country with no political or militaiy status.
The Syrians were well aware that they were not welcome in Egypt; Imad
al-Din al-Isfahani wrote that they 'have come amongst a people whom they
do not Icnow. . . and they see faces that frown at them'. Saladin was the
nearest relative to Shirkuh in Egypt, and though that may not have counted
for much, the fact that Shirkuh clearly relied on him - indeed had insisted
that he accompany him on his campaigns - did. And Saladin had shown dar-
ing during the battle of Babain and fortitude during the siege of Alexandria
- and these qualities would have been noted. Interestingly his initial reluc-
tance to return to Egypt is passed over in silence. The amirs knew his father,
Ayyub, and the respect that Nur al-Din showed him - he was the only one
allowed to sit in his presence - would have impressed them. Clearly there-
fore he came of good stock and possessed qualities that had been tested in
the heat of battie. Admittedly Saladin at 30 was very young to be vizier, but
it must not be forgotten that Nur al-Din himself had been 29 when he had
assumed control of Aleppo, and Amalric had been 31 when he had been
crowned as king of Jenxsalem.
Initially it appears the vizierate was offered to Shihab al-Din al-Harimi,
who was Saladin's maternal uncle, almost certainly because he was the elder
of the amirs. Invited to the Fatimid palace to meet with the caliph al-Adid,
Shihab al-Din turned down the nomination and instead put forward Saladin's
name, and al-Adid appears to have accepted his nomination. There were
other candidates: from the Nuriyah camp there was the Turldsh amir Ain
al-Daula al-Yaruqi, as well as two Kurds, Saif al-Din al-Mashtub and Qutb
al-Din Khusrau. That Saladin would emerge as the unanimous choice was
largely due to the political manoeuvring of two men: the fellow Kurd Isa
al-Haldcari, and Baha ul-Din Qaraqush, a eunuch mamluk manumitted by
Shirkuh. Without doubt the more interesting personality was Isa al-Haldsari.
A Shafiite Sunni and Kurd, like Saladin, he studied law in northern Iraq and
in Aleppo. He then joined the services of Shirkuh, who made him an amir,
and he became Sliirkuh's personal imam, leading him in prayer and accom-
panying him to Egypt. Saladin greatiy respected him and it was said that
al-Hakkari spoke openly in front of him, telling him things others would not
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SALAD I N
dare. It seems that everywhere al-Hakkari sought the company of religious
men; he even taught hadith himself, and it was said that he wore the turban
of a scholar while dressed in the uniform of a soldier. It was al-Hald;ari who
convinced Qarqush, the head of the 3,000 Syrian cavalry force, to support
Saladin, and then used the rivalry between the Turks and the Kurds to
Saladin's advantage when he convinced Qutb al-Din Khusrau - a fellow
Kurd - diat if he pursued his claim then it could well mean that a Turk (rather
than a Kurd) could assume to the position. Clearly not just a scholar and a
soldier but also a diplomat, Saladin owed a considerable debt to al-Haldcari,
who was lulled during the siege of Acre in 1189. Unfortunately we know
litde more about this most intriguing of personalities. Qaraqush, on the
other hand, could not have been more different. One of Saladin's closest
advisers, he was commissioned by him to build the citadel in Cairo as well
as the bridge of Giza, and to extend the city walls. Apparentiy he was not a
learned man; appointed as controller of the Fatimid palace by Saladin, he
stripped the priceless library in the palace and piled the books on the ground
to be sold to the first bidder. 'A Turk who Icnew nothing about books', was
how Imad al-Din al-Isfahani described him. Perhaps, but he was also one
of Saladin's most loyal lieutenants - and one of his bravest. When he was
captured by the Franks in Acre in 1191, where he had been sent to fortify
the city, Saladin paid a ransom of 20,000 dinars to rescue him. He was also
a man who made enemies, one of whom, Ibn Mammati, wrote a pamphlet
. called Kitub nl-fashush fi Mum Qaraqush (The Book of Stupidity of the
Judgements of Qaraqush).
As Saladin's uncle, Shihab al-Din clearly was not going to stand in his
nephew's path, but what of
the other three? Ibn al-Athir was quick to record
that 'not one of the amirs who sought the position for themselves obeyed
him or served him', and notes Ain al-Daula's words when thwarted by
Saladin: 'I shall never serve Yusuf. But they would serve him again. Ain
al-Daula returned to Syria, where he received a frosty reception from Nur
al-Din, who rebuked him for abandoning Saladin. Qutb al-Din Khusrau
also headed back to Syria, but a few months later he returned to Egypt to
help Saladin when the Franks attacked Damietta. As for the third contender
to the vizierate, al-Mashtub, his ambitions too may have been thwarted, but
there is one incident, many years later, which summed up his relationship
with Saladin. It occurred at the height of the Third Crusade when the
Muslim forces were unable to stop the advances of Richard's army and
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when, to all, it seemed that Jerusalem was to fall to the Franks. Out of des-
peration, Saladin ordered that all the cisterns around the city be destroyed
so that the Franks would have no drinking water. He then called a council
of war to be attended by the leading amirs during which, Saladin spoke:
the Muslims were depending on them, he said, and the time had come to
fight. The gravity of the situation was not lost on all those present and for
a long time no words were spoken. Finally it was al-Mashtub who broke the
silence, declaring that he would support Saladin to the death.
The rise of al-Qadi al-Fadil
Another reason, less commented upon, for Saladin's rise to power was the
support he received from the Sunnis of Egypt and particularly from those
in the Fatimid administration, who sided with him against the dynasty
they were meant to be semng. In that regard there could not have been a
more important person than al-Qadi al-Fadil. Recognised today as one of
Saladin's advisers, he was much more than that - a fact acknowledged by
Saladin, who claimed that the lands of Egypt were not conquered by his
armies but by the pen of al-Qadi al-Fadil. No one had more influence on
Saladin than him, and no one articulated his vision as clearly. Indeed, one
often wonders whose vision al-Qadi al-Fadil was articulating - a fact hinted
at by him when he wrote, 'Other men send their messages to the sultan, but
the sultan is my messenger in the letters I send'. Everywhere we look we
find al-Qadi al-Fadil. In his biographical sketch, Brockelmann writes that
al-Qadi al-Fadil was Saladin's right-hand man in carrying out the reforms
necessary in the army and taxation; ^^ in his Khitat, al-Maqrizi writes that he played a major role in the overthrow of the Fadmids; while Imad al-Din
al-Isfahani stressed the crucial role al-Qadi al-Fadil played during the Third
Crusade. Writing a century after al-Qadi al-Fadil's death, Ibn Fadlallah
al-Umari recorded that:
Al-Qadi Fadil was the SalMan state. He was its secretary, its vizier, its
master, its advisor and the supplier of its army. He carried all its burdens,
ruled over all its regions. . . Whenever the Sultan was away he ruled on his
behalf, or helped his deputies. . . He was invested with full authority in the
state ofSalah ud-Din and was the one who decided on the fate of people and
on matters of life and death}^
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What is clear is that al-Qadi al-Fadil was not simply a passive scribe or
administrator carrying out Saladin's orders. Far from it - he played an active
and vibrant role in the political events of the day. Possessed with a sharp
intelligence and famed for his laiowledge, he shared the same religious
ideals and vision as Saladin. In fact one could argue that al-Qadi al-Fadil
articulated this vision - therein lay his talent - in a way in which Saladin was
incapable of Saladin was aware of this and he delegated to him enormous
power in Egypt^® - for 22 consecutive years al-Qadi al-Fadil held powers
second only to those of Saladin.
Abd al-Latif Baghdadi has left us an eyewitness description of al-Qadi
al-Fadil. Visiting him in his tent during the siege of Acre, he was clearly
impressed by the man's distinctive presence:
We came into the presence of al-Qadi al-Fadil and saw a frail old man, all
head and heart. He was writin£i and dictating to two people, with all kinds
of movements of the face and the lips caused by his eagerness to get his words
out. It was as though he was writing with his whole body^
In fact the frail old man described by Baghdadi was seven years older than
his friend, Saladin.
Abd al-Rahim Ibn All al-Baysani, known as al-Qadi al-Fadil, was born in
Ascalon, where he received his basic education. He grew up in a town that
was almost permanendy under siege from the Franks, who surrounded it
•with a ring of castles. Ascalon would fall to them in 1153. As was the nature
of things at that time, he travelled to Fatimid Cairo to begin his career as a
scribe in the Diwan al-Insha (Palace of Episdes), where he was introduced
to the art of epistolary and secretarial writing. As a young cleric he devoted
considerable time to enriching his vocabulary and improving his grammar,
as well as learning the basis of balagha ( r h e t o r i c ) . H e would also have
studied tafsir (Quranic commentaiy), hadith, calligraphy, as well as account-
ing. It is important to note that al-Qadi al-Fadil was not a product of the
madrasa system and did not receive a systematic legal education. The reason
for this was simple enough - there were no Sunni madrasas in Fatimid
Cairo. Interestingly, however, he did spend a few years in Alexandria, where
he worked as a scribe and where he was immersed in the Sunni atmosphere
of this fervent city-port, which would certainly have reminded him of
Ascalon. While in Alexandria he studied under al-Silafi and Ibn Awf It is
unlikely, though, that he attended a law college in any systematic manner.
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After completing his education in the Diwan al-Insha, al-Qadi al-Fadil was
employed as a junior secretary, where the hours were long and the pay poor,
a fact which he bemoaned:
The inefficient have neither been ha^rmed for their incompetence.
Nor have I benefited from my proficiency.
The more efficiency I demonstrate,
The more my livelihood is reducedP
Ambitious for promotion, al-Qadi al-Fadil continued to push his way up
in the diwan, imposing himself and his talents on his superiors until he
got the recognition that he sought. He served for a period in the Diwan
al-Jaysh (army), where he became familiar with military' matters. He was also
appointed as private secretary to al-Kamil, the son of Shawar. We cannot
pass over al-Qadi al-Fadil's career without noting that he appeared to have
assumed the political stance of whoever he served under. To a large extent
this was natural as the career and, on occasion, the life of a scribe and sec-
retary depended on pleasing his patron, who offered him advancement and
security. This Machiavellian sagacity^" was best reflected in his poetry, where
he eulogised
events which he clearly would have disagreed with. Such
was the life of a scribe. In fact, as a Shafiite Sunni, al-Qadi al-Fadil would
have had littie religious sympathy for the Fatimid regime. Trained in the
chancery, he would have been well versed in the intricacies of Ismaili doc-
trine, since the composition of any letters required the appropriate phrase-
ology to be employed, but a familiarity with a doctrine does not reflect
convictions.
How al-Qadi al-Fadil came to run the chancery for Shirkuh and Saladin
is not clear, but the transition from serving the Fatimids - where he unde-
niably had an important position - to serving Shirkuh appears to have been
seamless. Nevertheless, it is inconceivable that Shirkuh appointed someone
in such an important position whose Sunni credentials were not of the
highest order. We do not know what behind-the-scenes contact there was
between the two men, but that there was a shared ideology of restoring an
orthodox Sunnism there can be no doubt. Al-Qadi al-Fadil was an 'insider'
who understood the worldngs of government, and during the final death
pangs of the Fatimid state the alienated Sunnis in the civil administration
began to usurp power for tiiemselves. In fact he was instrumental in sur-
rendering the Fatimid state into the hands of Shirkuh and Saladin. As Lev
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has demonstrated, there can be no better example of that than the letters
of appointment proclaiming Shirkuh and (then later) Saladin as Fatimid
viziers, which al-Qadi al-Fadil drafted.
The opening paragraphs of Shirkuh's letter of appointment is in line with
Fatimid traditional phraseology, demonstrating, if nothing else, that al-Qadi
al-Fadil was familiar witli its usage. A tired charade - pour In forme - had to be reiterated, which requested Shirkuh acknowledge the primacy of al-Adid
as the righdy guided imam and Commander of the Faithflil, and to act, in his
capacity as vizier, within the framework of the Ismaili state. This of course was
absurd; Shirkuh had not been despatched by Nur al-Din to seiTe the Fatimid
caliphate but to terminate it, and one wonders what the gnarled one-eyed
Shirkuh would have made of this. But though the caliph had no clothes, the