Saladin
Page 14
figleaf- in phraseology at least - had to be preserved. Epistolary camouflage,
however, could not conceal that the edifice had crumbled and that the
guards had left their post. Yet careftil reading of the letter, comparing it
with Shawar's letter of appointment, reveals a noticeable shift of emphasis.
In Shawar's letter it was made clear that the vizier was a subordinate of the
imams and the divine legitimisation of Fatimid rule is central to the text. In
Shirkuh's letter, however, although the role of the imam is acknowledged,
most of the text is devoted to the vizier and his responsibilities.
Within three months Shirkuh was dead and Saladin had assumed the
vizierate. Once again al-Qadi al-Fadil drafted the letter of appointment. On
the surface it seemed that nothing had changed in such a short period
of time, but behind the scenes a dramatic shift had taken place. Having
stressed the essential points of the Fatimid credo, al-Qadi al-Fadil inserted
a remarkable declaration that Saladin's vizierate was hereditary. In true
chancery manner he created a smoke screen to conceal this dramatic devel-
opment by invoicing the hereditary vizierate of Badr al-Jamali as a historical
precedent, but no one was fooled. Badr's son al-Afdal had been forced unto
the Fatimid caliph, while Saladin's letter of appointment gave him a priori
legitimacy.^^ The fact was the Fatimid ruling establishment had lost control
over the chancery. Perhaps al-Qadi al-Fadil was being cautious in Shirkuh's
letter of appointment and only tweaked some changes, but within the three
months that saw Saladin's appointment he become emboldened by the real-
isation that the tide had definitely turned in Sunni favour. It is certain that
he would not have drafted the letter without first discussing it in detail with
Saladin. Lev's conclusion is damning: Tn plain terms, the Fatimid regime
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5: T H E U N L I K E L Y V I Z I E R
was betrayed by the administrators in its service'.^® Al-Qadi al-Fadil of
course would not have seen this as a betrayal but as his duty as a Sunni to
restore orthodox rule in Egypt. Although the co-operation of the civilian
elite with the newly arrived Sunni forces was not limited to him, there is no
question that he was instrumental in this 'betrayal'. Saladin was a stranger
in Egypt and although Nur al-Din and Shirkuh had, over the years, made
contact with Sunni elements in Alexandria and Fustat, they urgently needed
people within the administrative system who understood the running of the
land. One can view the shift into Saladin's service as acts of self-preservation
by members of the chancery and administrators, who were constantly look-
ing for patrons, but that would not be telling the full story, for there is no
doubt that the co-operation of the civil elite of the Fatimid state with
Saladin was religiously motivated. The common bond of Sunni Islam was
overpowering. If the motives had been purely self-preservation and advance-
ment, then one would have expected to see individuals hedging their bets,
since the co-operation between the Sunni elements and Nur al-Din and
Shirkuh had begun as early as the campaign of 1167 when victory was by
no means certain.
On the 26 March 1169, Saladin was invested as vizier of the Fatimid
state. The investiture took place at the magnificent palace of the vizier. He
now received sumptuous garments, his sword of office, and several precious
gifts from the caliph.^® He was then addressed by the new honorific name
of al-Malik al-Nasir. It is a common assumption to believe that Saladin, as
the last Fatimid vizier, was the architect behind the demise of the Fatimid
caliphate. In reality he was simply the person who administered the last
rites.
• 81 •
ChcLptcr 6
Master of Egypt
Had he known that you would not drop his name from the khutba, he would
not have died.
Al-Qadi al-Fadil
Oil the 26 March 1169 Saladin was invested as vizier of the Fatimid
state, a state which he had been sent to destroy. This fundamental and
striking paradox lay at the heart of his vizierate, and how he dealt with it
revealed a considerable amount about his character and would affect his
actions in later life. There is no doubt that his awareness of the importance
of Egypt, the threat of the Franks and the dangers to Islam of disunity grew
from his early experiences as the lieutenant of his uncle Shirkuh in the three
Egypdan campaigns.^ It was in these early years that he laid the foundation
of his later military and political career.^ Up until now he had existed in the
shadows, playing a supporting role to the main characters of Nur al-Din,
Shirkuh, Amalric and Shawar, but now all eyes were on him and finally
he stepped into the light. He was a stranger in a strange and dangerous
land, and youthful exuberance needed to be tempered by that knowledge.
Admittedly he was now the vizier, but this was a position which did not
promise a long life. The fate of Nasr, the son of a previous vizier, who had
slain a caliph (supposedly his lover) in an attempt to seize power would have
been well known to him, and it did not augur well. After failing in an escape
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6: M A S T E R O F EGYPT
attempt, Nasr was personally mutilated and hung, and his rotting body was
left to swing for two years at the Gate of Zuwaila.
If there was little of the theoretician in Saladin's character, there was a
considerable amount of statesmanship. Averse to taldng risks, there was
little impetuousness in his manner; instead at a relatively young age he
displayed the maturity of a practical politician. Indeed, he went to great
lengths to prepare the political and diplomatic ground before taldng action.'
Baha ul-Din Ibn Shaddad noted that Saladin 'would ponder and deliberate,
exposing each aspect of the situation and taking the necessary steps to deal
with it, without becoming angry, for he was never irate'. Such was his
nature that Saladin, throughout his life, found taking decisions a painful
process. Ibn Shaddad recalled a later incident which captured this aspect of
his character:
That ni^ht I was on duty beside him from sunset until it was almost dawn.
It was winter and we were alone but for God. We discussed this project and
that, examining the implication of each in turn, until I began to feel con-
cerned for him and to fear for his health, for he seemed to be overwhelmed
by despair.
As for Abu Shama, he recorded that Saladin was apprehensive about
dealing with matters alone and used to correspond regularly with al-Qadi
al-Fadil, informing him about the latest events and seeldng his advice
on important issues. Saladin's lack of impetuousness was complemented
by a self-control which Arabs believed was the sign of good breeding. Ibn
Shaddad describes how:
I was there when news came to him of the death of his little son Ismail. He
read the letter, and spoke to no one; we had to learn about it from others.
He betrayed no reaction except that as he read the letter his eyes filled with
&nbs
p; tears.
If self-control was considered one of the noblest virtues among the Muslims
of the period, then generosity was at the very least its match. Al-Qadi
al-Fadil wrote that debt was the disease of the generous, and defended
the extravagances of Saladin's brother Turan Shah - it was said that he had
personally spent as much as 200,000 dinars - by writing to Saladin that the
'master should not hold him to account for what he gives away, for when
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SALAD I N
the master gives him gifts, he makes him an intermediary between himself
and those who ask'.'' Saladin himself was known for his generosity and Ibn
Shaddad noted that his treasurers kept certain reserves concealed from him
for fear that some financial emergency might arise, for they laiew that the
moment he heard about them he would spend them.
The crushing of the Sudanese uprising and the
dismantlement of the Fatimid state
The fact was that at the moment of his greatest triumph Saladin found him-
self at his weakest position. Alexandria he knew well, of course, but he was
not there now and Cairo was a strange and alien place. Many of Nur al-Din's
amirs had left to return to Syria and had taken their men with them. All who
remained were Shirkuh's men - the Asadiyya - and about 500 mamluks and
3,000 cavalry commanded by Qaraqush. Saladin could rely on the Asadiyya
contingent, but as for the loyalty of the Nuriyah he was less sure. Of one
thing he could be certain and that was he could not be certain of the Fatimid
army, composed largely of Sudanese infantry and Armenian cavalry. He
needed rapidly to bring in his own men. Around him was his askar, cavalry-
men who formed his personal and permament guard and who were com-
posed of both free men and mamluks. By the summer of 1169 Saladin had
already formed a personal regiment - the Salahiya - which was commanded
• by Abul Huija the Gross, one of his most loyal lieutenants. To reward his
men and retain their loyalty he needed to grant them land assingments, and
as he began to phase out the old Egyptian army by withdrawing from the
Fatimid commanders the lands which had been granted to them, he would
have Icnown that he had set himself on a path of confrontation. To regu-
larise this matter he needed support in the bureaucracy, and here he was
greatly aided by al-Qadi al-Fadil, who made the Diwan al-lqta (where land-
grants were assigned) independent from the Diwan al-Jaysh (army) and
placed it under the directorship of his friend al-As'ad ibn Mammati, a Copt
who had converted to Islam. Saladin understood the nature of the risk, but
unless he broke the Fatimid army and replaced it with his own men then his
survival, let alone his success, would remain precarious.
Initially reluctant to embark on the campaign, Saladin now found him-
self in a position where he had few friends and many enemies and in a city
which he did not know bttt dared not leave for fear of rebellion. He was by
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6: M A S T E R OF EGYPT
nature cautious - he had far more of his fatiier in him than his uncle - but
then he had a lot to be cautious about, for within the first six months of his
vizierate he faced an internal plot, an army rebellion and a foreign invasion.
But Saladin was also aware that he ruled over a wealthy land, wealthy
beyond the imagination of men. This was the land of pharaohs and
ptolemies, where Alexander had marched his army across a desert in search
of an oracle and Caesar had wooed an Egyptian queen. If Saladin had not
known it before, he now understood that he effectively ruled over a land
far wealthier than the Syria which he so loved. But he was largely alone, and
with Shirkuh gone Saladin needed people he could trust. He wrote to Nur
al-Din and requested that his elder brother Turan Shah be sent to him. Nur
al-Din dispatched Turan Shah to Egypt, though not without first advising
him to treat Saladin not as his younger brother but as the master of Egypt.
The accounts that play up Nur al-Din's anger at Saladin need to be qualified
by the realisation that he did do what Saladin asked. He must have known
that agreeing to send family members to Egypt would only strengthen
Saladin's position, but he sent them with his blessing. In any case Nur al-
Din had much bigger problems to deal with than Egypt. A massive earth-
quake struck northern Syria, which destroyed half of Aleppo and caused
damage in Homs, Hama and Baalbek. At once Nur al-Din turned his atten-
tion northwards. A couple of months later, in September 1170, his brother
died in Mosul, leaving behind a succession struggle which occupied him
until May 1171, when he returned to Damascus.
Aware of the dangers that surrounded him, Saladin was unprepared
to rush things, and for the first few months of his vizierate he refused to
leave Cairo. If he did not Icnow Egypt and distrusted its people, then the
Egyptians did not know him and were indifferent to his fate; after all he was
the fifth vizier in six years. To them he appeared young and soft spoken,
possessing none of the cunning of Shawar or the brute force of Shirkuh.
As Saladin viewed his position, he loiew that he had to act slowly and with
cunning to chip away at the base of the column of Eatimid power,® for there
was still life in the sick man of the Nile. And even if the sick man died, the
ghost still needed to be excorcised. In fact it would take Saladin two and a
half years to achieve his goal, which was the dismemberment of the Eatimid
dynasty and its replacement with a Sunni one. From the start, he befriended
al-Adid, the young Eatimid caliph whose appeals to Nur al-Din had pre-
vented Egypt falling to Amalric, and both men appeared together during
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SALAD I N
the ceremonies associated with the month of Ramadan. These even
included a visit to al-Azhar, which was of course the main centre for Ismaili
propagation. If either man was aware of the anomaly of that position, then
it was not mentioned. Interestingly we read that when Saladin visited the
caliphal palace, he entered it on horseback, which had previously been the
exclusive privilege of the Fatimid imam. However, seemingly friendly rela-
tions and diplomatic visits could not disguise the dangers lying in wait in the
land of the Nile, and within weeks of assuming the vizierate word reached
Saladin that a plot was being hatched against him. This involved a palace
eunuch, Mu'tamin al-Khilafa, who was inciting tlie Sudanese regiments
to rebel while sending secret messages to Amalric to invade. We are told
that when Amalric heard of Shirkuh's death, he dismounted and prostrated
himself on the ground, for he was now certain that Egypt would be his.
Mu'tamin believed that once news of Amalric's approach reached Saladin he
would have no option but to advance to confront him, at which point the
uprising in Cairo would finish him off. As for the Sudanese regiments, they
had a reason for grievance for they were angered by Saladin's efforts to
phase them out and replace them with his Syrian and Kurdish amirs. They
also possessed a
fierce reputation and it was said that whenever they rose
against a vizier they killed him. Daily they grew more insolent and violent,
and an eyewitness account relates that they 'stopped the roads and seized
the money of travellers, or shed their blood'. Informed of the plot, Saladin
chose to conceal the knowledge and to wait for the opportune moment to
strike, for he knew that the first act would unleash a chain of violent and
unpredictable events and he needed to prepare with care. In the meantime
he waited for his brother, who arrived in July. Turan Shah was more like
Shirkuh than Ayyub, and his profligacy was notorious - he would fritter
away as much money as Nur al-Din spent on conquering Egypt. On occa-
sion, and especially when drunk, he lashed out against his younger brother,
for a certain envy was inevitable, but he could be trusted in the heat of
battle - and that is what mattered.
Emboldened by his brother's arrival, Saladin acted and Mu'tamin was
arrested, slain and his severed head sent to Saladin. In his place, Saladin
appointed Qaraqush. The next day, on 21 August 1169, the Sudanese
regiments rose in open and defiant rebellion and took up their position in
the great square of Cairo between the west and east palaces. To them now
flocked all those who had concealed their enmity to Saladin, both among
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6: M A S T E R OF EGYPT
the Egyptian amirs and tiie common folk. Estimates vary, but they would
have numbered around 50,000, a far greater number than the Syrians. The
rebels clearly knew their city and had chosen their location well, for they
forced Saladin to fight on ground not of his own choosing, overlooked on
the flanks by buildings held by the palace troops, who might at any moment
join in against him.® The situation was extremely perilious and the unlcnown
factor was how the Fatimid al-Adid would respond. Would he support his
vizier? Saladin was uncertain, and so when his army took their position in
the great square he held back some troops in case he was attacked by the
caliph's men from the flanks. It was Turan Shah and Abul Huija who took
the battle to the Sudanese regiments in the square and for two days a fierce
fight ensued. Still Saladin held back, his eyes fixed not on the batde ahead