Assassins E-Book

W B Bartlett

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2009

Beschreibung

The so-called 'Assassins' are one of the most spectacular legends of medieval history. In the popular imagination they are drug-crazed fanatics who launched murderous attacks on their enemies, terrorising the medieval world. Since the tales of Marco Polo and others, the myths surrounding them have been fantastically embellished and the truth has become ever more obscure. Universally loathed and feared, they were especially frightening because they apparently had no fear of death. Bartlett's book deftly traces the origins of the sect out of the schisms within the early Islamic religion and examines the impact of Hasan-i-Sabbah, its founder, and Sinan - the legendary 'Old Man of the Mountain'. This popular history follows the vivid history of the group over the next two centuries, including its clash with the crusaders, its near destruction at the hands of the Mongols, and its subsequent history. Finally, and fascinatingly, we discover how the myths surrounding the Assassins have developed over time, and why indeed they continue to have such an impact on the popular imagination.

Leseprobe

ASSASSINS

Dedicated to my grandmother, Emma Heckford, who has always been a source of support and encouragement to me.

ASSASSINS

THE STORY OF MEDIEVAL ISLAM’S SECRET SECT

W.B. BARTLETT

First published in 2001

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2013

All rights reserved

© W.B. Bartlett, 2001, 2013

The right of W.B. Bartlett to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 9614 6

Original typesetting by The History Press

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

1

The Early Years of Islam

2

The Rise of the Isma’ilis

3

The Visionary

4

The Division

5

The Legacy of Hasan-i Sabbah

6

The Syrian Dimension

7

The Resurrection

8

The Old Man of the Mountain

9

Re-integration

10

Nemesis

11

Syrian Sunset

12

From History to Legend

13

The Twilight Years

Notes

Select Bibliography

Acknowledgements

Abook of this nature does not come together without the support of a great number of people. I would first like to thank those academics whose work has been an inspiration to me. Without their research and dedication this book would not have been written. To the long list of such historians, whom I shall not name as I would not wish to inadvertently miss anyone out, my sincere thanks as well as my apologies for any errors that I might have made, which are my responsibility alone. To those who have given direct help, my especial thanks. I would also like to thank staff at the British Library and Southampton University Library for the help they have given during the course of my research.

As always, the team at Suttons have performed a tremendously professional job. I would like to offer my gratitude to the readers of the original mauscript for their suggestions for improvement. My thanks to the whole team at Suttons but especially to Jane Crompton, Christopher Feeney and Paul Ingrams who have pointed me in the right direction when I have wandered from the straight and narrow. For Jane, who has moved on to new challenges, my admiration will remain undiminished – your help has been greatly appreciated.

Last but not least, my eternal gratitude to my family, Angela and Deyna first and foremost, whose love and support were the most important element in writing this book. Without you, none of this would have been possible.

Prologue

In the middle of the thirteenth century, a French army set out on Crusade, travelling far across the Mediterranean to the distant shores of Egypt. The expedition proved to be a disaster. The army, led by King Louis IX of France, was surrounded and trapped. Thousands of Crusaders were taken prisoner; many of them were killed in cold blood. The pitiful remnant that survived made the short sea crossing to Palestine, where at the time a small Crusader kingdom, known as Outremer – ‘The Land Beyond The Sea’ – clung precariously to a tenuous existence, surrounded by hostile Muslim states. The army remained here for several years. In its ranks was a chronicler, Jean de Joinville, a close confidant of the King. He subsequently wrote an account of his time in the region.

In it, he told how, in about 1250 AD, a priest named Yves the Breton was sent by the King on a mission to the court of a mysterious man who led an equally mysterious group. There were a number of things that fascinated the Western envoy during his visit, for example the unorthodox religious beliefs of the group which suggested (a hopelessly optimistic prospect as it transpired) that they were ripe for conversion to Christianity. But of all the things that the priest discovered, there was one above all others which caught his imagination, and sent a shiver down his spine. According to him, these men were dealers in death.

De Joinville told his readers how the leader of this group, ‘The Old Man of the Mountain’ as he entitled him, processed through his territories:

‘Whenever the Old Man of the Mountain went out riding, a crier would go before him bearing a Danish axe with a long haft encased in silver, to which many knives were affixed. As he went the man would continually cry out: “Turn out of the way of him who bears in his hands the death of kings”’.1

De Joinville’s story added to an already established legend, of a sinister group living in the mountain fastnesses of Syria, from where they launched murderous attacks on any who they perceived to be enemies. None were safe from their suicidal assassins; even Kings and Emperors trembled at the thought of falling victim to the knives of these killers. What made them especially frightening was that the assassins had no fear of death; in fact, if they were to die in the execution of their mission, then they were hailed as martyrs who would receive the eternal blessings of Paradise as a result of their sacrifice. They were adept at ingratiating themselves almost unnoticed into the good graces of their would-be victim. They would wait for months before attempting to carry out their mission, during which time they would show themselves to be good friends so that they could subsequently catch him off his guard. In such an atmosphere, no one could be trusted. A century later, the Western writer Brocardus offered this piece of advice to a later French king who was planning a Crusade:

‘I therefore know only one single remedy for the safeguarding and protection of the King, that in all the royal household, for whatever service, however small or brief or mean, none should be admitted, save those whose country, place, lineage, condition and person are certainly, fully and clearly known’.2

But this group were also well known to Muslims in the region, who could have told Brocardus – if he could speak their language – that knowing the antecedents of servants and guards was no guarantee of safety. Many stories concerning the group related a number of incidents where previously highly trusted servants showed themselves to have fallen victim to the spell of the movement’s beliefs. Without any warning, respected confidants of many years standing showed themselves as would-be murderers. Virtually the last thing that many victims of the group must have felt was a sense of horror and betrayal as they looked into the face of a respected servant coming at them, dagger in hand.

The group struck terror into the hearts and minds of their near neighbours. In one contemporary Muslim account, a warrior returned to his castle where the garrison had beaten off one of their attacks. He found his mother sitting with his sister on a balcony. He asked her why she was there, to which she replied that ‘I have given [your sister] a seat at the balcony and sat behind her so that in case I found that [the enemy] had reached us, I could push her and throw her into the valley, preferring to see her dead rather than fall into the hands of the peasants and ravishers’.3 Great rulers whose armies outnumbered the group many times over were always on their guard, watching the shadows for a sudden, murderous assault. Their enemies gave members of the movement a particular name. They called them hashishiyyun. It was a derogatory term that meant ‘hashish taker’. It was not meant to be taken literally; it was a term applied by Muslims to those that they regarded as moral reprobates. The Western knights who populated the Crusader kingdom of Outremer heard the name applied, and they started to use it themselves. But they would pronounce the term with their own dialect. It would, within a couple of hundred years of their arrival in the region, pass into their own language, as a noun that still survives into modern, everyday use. They would call members of the group ‘Assassins’.

It would be far more accurate to describe them as Nizaris. At least one modern writer has pointed out with a hint of polite correction that even his eminent and very well informed contemporary colleagues incorrectly use the term Assassins.4 But the same writer acknowledges why this is the case when he admits that ‘the term Assassins, with its aura of mystery and sensation, has acquired an independent currency’.5 He is undoubtedly right and it is for this reason that this book carries the title it does. Hopefully at its conclusion the reader will understand why the term ‘Assassin’ is wrong, while at the same time realizing how members of the group came to be so-called.

Certainly, members of the group would be surprised to hear themselves described in this way. The term hashishiyyun or ‘Assassin’ would not be recognized by them. They traced their roots back to a time, towards the close of the eleventh century, when there was a great division within the Islamic world. Such divisions were a not uncommon occurrence during the formative centuries of Islam. Not long after Muhammad, the great Prophet who founded Islam, died in 632, a bitter civil war erupted which split the Muslim world into a number of factions. Several centuries later, one of these, the Shiites, would itself fragment and a group known as the Ismailis formed. Later still, the Ismailis would also divide. One element would call themselves after the last leader they recognized as being the legitimate head of the movement. His name was Nizar and his followers called themselves ‘Nizari’. After he was murdered in Egypt in 1095, this was the name by which most of the so-called Assassins would recognize themselves. But, over time, the name would be lost, and later generations in the West would know them exclusively by the bastardized version of that derogatory term, hashishiyyun.

The Nizaris were to have a psychological impact on those who came into contact with them out of all proportion to the numbers of members that they had. Powers many times greater than the Nizaris – who were never numerous – would develop an interest in and a fear of the movement which would ultimately prove fatal for it. The first great enemy of the movement was the powerful but fragmented Seldjuk Empire that established itself in Persia and the lands surrounding it during the eleventh century. But, although the group would outlive the Seldjuks, it would later be overwhelmed by one of the mightiest and most destructive regimes that the Middle East, or indeed the world, has ever seen, that of the Mongols.

Yet, even then, when faced by the unstoppable Mongol tide, one of the Nizari castles (a number of which were held by the movement in parts of Persia and Syria during its heyday) would resist the inevitable for seventeen years before it finally fell in or around 1270. The fact that this siege lasted for such a lengthy period testifies amply to the fear that the movement generated among its enemies, who persisted for so long to ensure that the castle eventually fell. And the fate of the garrison after its ultimate capture equally supports this contention. The extended length of time for which the garrison, whose position had for most of the time been hopeless, had held out, might have been considered by its enemies as an especially gallant defence; and when the castle finally fell, the garrison (who eventually surrendered because of – among other things – the fact that they had run out of clothes) might have hoped to have been treated as valiant adversaries who deserved to live. But no such kindness would be meted out to these men; they were all summarily killed.

An appreciation of the fear that the Nizaris generated is crucial if the history of the movement is to be understood. Because they themselves left few written records,6 and the documents relating to them which survive were largely written by their enemies, there is a great danger that the view subsequently formed of the movement is inevitably coloured against them. The greatest contemporary influences on the development of the story of the movement – judging by the chronicles that have survived to modern times – were Persian writers: Alā-Malik Juwayni, Rashid al-Din Fadl Allah and Abu I-Qasim Abd Allah Kashani. All were vehemently inimical on religious grounds towards the Nizaris. All of them based their accounts on original Nizari sources but none of them were friendly towards them, giving them both opportunity and motive to amend their accounts as they saw fit.7

A twentieth century historian, Marshall Hodgson, notes that although Rashid al-Din and Juwayni probably prepared their accounts from the same basic sources their approaches are different: ‘Rashid al-Din has more facts than Juwayni, where Juwayni has more opinions than Rashid al-Din’.8 And it is certainly true that Juwayni provides an especially strong example of anti-Nizari bias, making it particularly important that due caution is exercised in interpreting his account. He was in the employ of the Mongols when they finally subdued the Nizaris in Persia and, before they destroyed the greatest of all their strongholds, the castle at Alamut in 1256, they let him sift through the books in the magnificent library there. What he wished to keep, he could take; the rest – mostly religious literature – was consigned to oblivion in a great funeral pyre, the flames of which marked the end of an independent Nizari state in Persia. Rarely can there have been a more extreme opportunity for a historian to shape history in the image that he desired.

Given Juwayni’s affiliations, such bias is unsurprising; not long after the capture of Alamut he would be rewarded when the Mongols gave him the governorship of Baghdad; a significant prize indeed. As one modern historian noted, ‘Juwayni wrote with a distinctly anti-Ismaili perspective, often manifesting itself in outright condemnation of the sectarians, a position not incomprehensible for a Sunni historian aiming to please a master who had almost exterminated the Nizari Ismailis of Persia’.9

There is a wealth of evidence in the style and content of Juwayni’s writing to support the contention that he is far from being an objective witness to history in the making. As one example of many, Juwayni’s comments after the fall of Alamut serve as comprehensive support of this analysis:

So was the world cleansed which had been polluted by their evil. Wayfarers now ply to and fro without fear or dread or the inconvenience of paying a toll and pray for the [continued] fortune of the happy King who uprooted their foundations and left no trace of any one of them. And in truth that act was the balm of Muslim wounds and the cure to the disorders of the Faith. Let those who shall come after this age and era know the extent of the mischief they wrought and the confusion they cast into the hearts of men. Such as were on terms of agreement with them, whether kings of former times or contemporary rulers, went in fear and trembling and [those who were] hostile to them were day and night in the straits of prison for dread of their scoundrelly minions. It is a cup that had been filled to overflowing; it seemed as if a wind had died.10

But, for all Juwayni’s hyperbole, it is the accounts of Western chroniclers that have, perhaps understandably, done the most to shape the subsequent perceptions of Western minds. The movement made a great impression on those Western writers who came to know of them. The general perception was one of a sinister, shadowy group of assassins who struck at their victims with impunity. The fact that the assassins (the killers were known to the Nizaris as fida‘ is or ‘devotees’) did not fear their own death, and indeed actively seemed to welcome it, did nothing to lessen the impact of the movement on contemporary Western consciousness. In this environment, all kinds of fantastical embellishments were added to the core of truth that underlay tales of the movement.

It was a trend that continued beyond Medieval times. When eighteenth and nineteenth century Western historians began to show an interest in them, if anything the myths that had by this time developed became more, rather than less, rigid. It is only a good deal of work carried out by twentieth century historians, such as Bernard Lewis, Farhad Daftary, Wilferd Madelung and Hodgson, as well as a number of historians from India (where the Nizaris were later to form a significant presence) that has started to redress the balance, and which has begun to swing the pendulum back away from myth and towards history. These historians have brought a new objectivity, a new scientific approach, to their subject. As such, the clouds of obscurity that obstruct our view of the Nizaris have begun to lift. However, the veil of mythology that obscures the history of the Nizaris is so firmly established, and the sources of evidence for the historical realities of the movement are so limited, that there is in reality little chance of conclusively reconstructing every detail of the Nizaris in their historical perspective.

As one example, the reader will note a certain vagueness in some of the dates quoted in this book. This is a reflection of a lack of clarity sometimes apparent in the historical record that has survived. But an examination of what evidence is available, and a comparison of the accounts that do exist about the movement, can at least help to reconstruct a credible picture in overview of the Nizaris’ historical position. It can also help to show how the historical fact of the Nizaris became the spectacular legend of the Assassins.

Because they left few historical records of their own, legends attached themselves almost inevitably to the movement from a very early stage. The virtual destruction of the Nizaris by the Mongols left the movement with no way of defending itself against the more extreme allegations of their enemies. Although they lived on for centuries after the disaster that befell them at the hands of the Mongols, the independent states that they had set up were overrun. Effectively, they only remained as relatively small and isolated communities. Their enemies had carte blanche to say what they wished about them with little fear of any recourse against their more excessive and wild accusations. In this environment, the Assassin myth took root and flourished.

At the heart of it all was their employment of murder as a weapon of state. The use of assassins was effectively a defensive mechanism employed by a group who were at a hopeless disadvantage, in terms of both size and power, when matched with the resources of their enemies. It was one strand in a strategy that also included the use of out-of-the-way, easily defensible castles in remote mountain retreats and an extraordinary – and sometimes very confusing – ability to change their allegiances, their political alliances and even their religious affiliations with bewildering frequency. One tactic in particular creates great difficulties for the historian, and (one suspects) also generated uncertainty in the minds of the movement’s affiliates at the time. This was a tactic known as taqiyya (the word literally means ‘caution’ or ‘prudence’). It was a concept that allowed the Nizaris to conceal their true affiliations as a way of surviving the traumatic upheavals that frequently threatened to overwhelm them. Essentially, a man could deny his faith if he wished so that his survival could be ensured.

At times, the whole group adopted the approach. Employing this tactic, the leader of the movement could declare that all previous protestations of religious belief were now invalid. Diametrically opposed policies were adopted instead so that new political alliances could be formed. This led to some confusing variations in policy that subsequent Nizari historians and theologians would claim were only introduced as a ruse to manipulate political opponents.

The concept of ‘taqiyya’ perhaps lacks glamour, and on occasion must surely have confused adherents to the Nizari cause. It may also have helped subsequent Nizari supporters to be wise after the event and claim that previous leaders had never really changed their policy at all – they had only pretended to in order to dupe their enemies. Taqiyya added another layer to the myth of Assassin duplicity, and the overall blanket of sinister overtones. That said, it was a spectacularly successful tactic in helping to ensure the survival of the movement as an independent power for far longer than could have been expected given the resources at its disposal. And it led to a characteristic that was to be the key to the viability of the Nizaris; adaptability. For, as one writer recently stated, ‘Ismailism has always survived because of its flexibility and its ability to adapt to the process of historical evolution’.11

These factors helped to mould the myth around the historical fact of the Nizaris. In the account of the movement and its history that follows, I have tried to separate fact from legend. This is a difficult objective at the best of times but it becomes a more challenging task than usual when the accounts of the movement that remain are so one-sided. However, modern advances in understanding have helped considerably in dismantling some of the more exaggerated ‘Assassin’ legends that have grown up. The efforts of the modern scholars already mentioned have partially succeeded in putting the movement into some kind of historical context, and because of them there has been something of a re-evaluation of the true place of the Nizaris in history.

Nevertheless, the legend continues to exercise a fascination to the present day, partly because it is undeniably rooted in fact. There is no doubt that a number of the acts of assassination ascribed to the Nizaris were committed by them, although in individual cases there may be some room for debate as every political killing was conveniently ascribed to them regardless of their actual involvement or not. But the whole picture became so exaggerated that what was created in terms of perceptions of the movement was a distorted and grotesque caricature of the historical reality.

Even some great historians have been misled by this image. When Sir Steven Runciman wrote of the hardships facing Western colonists in Outremer, one of them was the fact that ‘no one knew when he might not receive a knife thrust from a devotee of the Assassins’.12 Yet despite the impression that the group made on the imagination of the West, one modern writer estimates that maybe fewer than five Westerners fell victim to them.13

The perpetrators of these acts became, in popular imagination, drug-crazed fanatics, despite the fact that they acted in such a calculated fashion that it is inconceivable that they were really out of their minds because of drugs when they carried them out. In the imagination, the Assassins also threw themselves from the tops of the lofty towers of their castles at the click of their master’s fingers just to prove their contempt for life and their loyalty to their lord. They even became phantoms and made their way unseen through the serried ranks of heavily armed bodyguards in order to carry out their mission. Few exaggerations were spared in the attempt to embellish the myth.

The reality was somewhat different. The Nizaris were a political and religious movement whose history is every bit as interesting as their legend. During the Medieval period, politics and religion were hopelessly enmeshed in the Islamic (and for that matter, the Christian) world, and one could not exist without the other. The Nizaris used assassination as just one of many tools for ensuring their survival and advancing their cause. Throughout their history, the movement were more likely to use missionaries (known as ‘da is’) than they were assassins. The permanent effects of the former were much greater than those of the latter. As a result of the efforts of the da is, the Nizari creed spread beyond its point of origin in Persia into Syria, Central Asia and India, where significant Nizari communities remain to this day. Such men made great sacrifices and took enormous risks in the cause that they espoused. In the conduct of their mission, known as the ‘da wa’, they risked discovery and death every day. A number of them paid the ultimate price for their faith. Their supporters viewed them as martyrs. To them, self-sacrifice and devotion to their cause hold a much greater place in the story of the Nizaris than either murder or intrigue.

It is largely because of the wealth of recent research that this book has been written. It attempts to sift through the many layers of legend that have attached themselves to the Nizaris, and place the movement in its historical context. Due to the durability of the legends themselves this is no easy task. Nevertheless, given the remarkable story of the Nizaris it is well worth the effort.

I have aimed this book at the general reader. I have tried to assume no prior knowledge, and I hope the specialist will forgive me for examining some areas in greater depth than they might think necessary. I have therefore attempted to explain some of the subsidiary events that were relevant to the growth of the Nizaris, such as the evolution of Islam and Western European Crusades, so that the general reader can comprehend better the events that led to the foundation of the movement and its subsequent development. Otherwise, they will not fully understand the environment in which the Nizaris existed and what effect they had on events, or indeed what effect events had on them.

It is my objective that, by examining the history of the Nizaris, from the evolution of Islam itself in the early seventh century, through the founding of the Nizaris in the eleventh century, and completing the story by continuing on into the modern age, I will place the movement in some form of perspective. In my opinion, this is only truly possible if the reader understands something of the great changes that took place within Islam as it developed, as well as the wider events that shaped the world in which the Nizaris lived.

The legends surrounding the Nizaris will, to many readers, have their own fascination. But they are in many ways unhelpful, as they have moulded erroneous perceptions of the movement, especially in the West. In the process, they have distorted perceptions of the Nizaris. The real achievement of the Nizaris lies in the very fact of their survival against what at many times appeared to be impossible odds. For that reason, if for no other, the history of the movement deserves to be re-told.

ONE

The Early Years of Islam

In the middle of the first millennium following the birth of Christ, a great storm came out of the Arabian desert. Irresistible, unstoppable, it overwhelmed the lands of the Middle East and then spread outwards across the world, consuming all who dared to stand in its path. It seemed that no one could resist its power, which inexorably overcame all resistance. Those obstinate, or misguided, enough to resist were broken like saplings in the path of a whirlwind. Its advance was unprecedented and hard to credit, given the longevity of the regimes that perished in the storm. Yet for all its force, all the fear it inspired in the hearts and minds of those exposed to its effects, in the remains of the cultures that were subsumed by it, new civilization took root. A new world order was born, one in which art and science would hold an exalted place. The storm had conquered old beliefs and ways of life so that they could be replaced with something far better.1

But this new and vibrant force was, from early on, hampered by its own internal difficulties. The storm, which was Islam, unleashed powers that it itself found difficult to control. In common with many great religions, it was soon divided by internal dissent as men argued that theirs alone was the one way to religious truth. In the dissent fomented by these disputes, new factions would gestate, groups with, in their opponents’ eyes, strange and heretical codes of belief.

No study of the so-called ‘Assassins’ can be complete without first of all attempting to explain the religious and political environment in which the movement was born, for the early years of Islam shaped and moulded its beliefs. Those early years were momentous in terms of their future effects. The Middle East is a region that has known more than its fair share of turbulence in its time, but there can have been few more uncertain periods in its history than the centuries that immediately preceded the creation of the group most properly known as the Nizaris. The new forces unleashed by the birth of Islam dramatically amended the structure of the Middle East, and indeed the regions beyond. They would be re-shaped by a series of invasions and political and religious re-alignments. It was in a much-changed Middle Eastern region that the Nizaris would ultimately establish themselves.

The new religion evolved in Mecca, in the early years of the seventh century AD. Before the arrival of Islam in the region, the city was already a sacred place. Within its walls was to be found the Ka ba, literally ‘The Cube’, the site where Ismail, the eldest son of Abraham, had set up his first home after being sent away by his father.2 It was here that a merchant named Muhammad, husband to a rich wife, received a revelation in the year 610. As a consequence of this divine inspiration, he developed a new creed. It owed much to other religions, namely Judaism and Christianity. Muhammad believed that there was much that was right in the Christian creed. He accepted that Christ was not only a prophet, but was in fact one of the foremost of all holy men. He had no difficulty even in accepting the principle of the miraculous Virgin birth. What, however, he would not countenance was the concept of the Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Ghost. To him, it implied that there was more than one God and this he would not accept. Primarily, his new religion was based on what he regarded as pure, monotheistic principles and in his pantheon there was only room for one deity.

Inevitably, as these doctrines developed during the formative years of his new creed, they began to impinge on political and social issues. That Islam was first and foremost a religious force need not be doubted; but, as it matured, it inevitably impacted in other spheres. This meant that a clash with those of the established order who held opposing views was more or less inevitable. It was merely a question of when such tensions would lead to outright confrontation.

Naturally enough, at the outset there was not a huge groundswell of support for Muhammad’s beliefs. His first followers were his wife Khadija, and his cousin and son-in-law Ali, a man who would assume an important role in the development of Islam. But, in a small way at first, his creed took root. His immediate neighbours came to accept his doctrines, and by the year 619 he had gathered around him in Mecca a small but loyal group of followers.

However, in that year his life was to veer off in a new direction, as Muhammad began a literal and spiritual journey that would not only transform his own being but also that of millions of others subsequently. He had been fortunate to have at the outset a powerful patron in Mecca, his uncle Abu Talib, who acted as his protector. However, when Abu Talib died Muhammad felt himself to be dangerously exposed, surrounded by strong and determined enemies. The threat seemed so great that he fled to Medina.

During his subsequent time in Medina, the green shoots of Muhammad’s creed blossomed to full fruition. There was a large and influential Jewish community in the city, and Muhammad experimented with many of their beliefs. For a while, his personal creed appeared to be moving ever closer to Judaism. But something happened to alter his course. Muhammad’s house in Medina became the first mosque of the new religion. Symbolically, the main entrance of this building had been placed to face towards Jerusalem. But after a time the direction of the entrance was changed so that it faced Mecca. It was a symbolic assertion that the focus of the new faith had shifted towards the latter city. In 625, the relationship between the Jewish community in Medina and the supporters of Muhammad tangibly disintegrated. Some of the Jews were expelled from the city, others were slain.

Muhammad’s new religion was not merely a passive, contemplative creed. The development of Islam was accompanied by an increasing militarization of the community around the Prophet. For this was an approach to religion that judged that, if persuasion would not work as a means of converting the heathen to the one true way, then force would do just as well. This was not to say that warfare was the sole policy available to, or used by, Muhammad. The sagacious use of peace treaties with potential opponents proved an invaluable tactic. But Muhammad also frequently employed military options.

From Medina, in 624 Muhammad began to attack Mecca. Raids were launched by Muhammad’s supporters, focussing particularly on the trade caravans that criss-crossed the desert lands of Arabia towards Mecca, with great frequency. Relying on the income from such trading, the inhabitants of the city felt the resultant losses very keenly. No doubt disconcerted by this loss of income, by 628 the inhabitants of Mecca had reached a peace agreement with Muhammad, under the terms of which the pilgrimage route to the Ka\ba in Mecca was re-opened. In 630, an army of 10,000 of his supporters made the pilgrimage to Mecca.

The influence of the new religion quickly spread both north and south from its birthplace. By this period in history, many of the existing religions were becoming increasingly complicated. As one example, Christianity had long been involved in an ongoing dispute concerning the nature of Christ, and whether He was wholly human, wholly divine or a combination of the two. That these differences were keenly felt by those who held one view or another is not seriously in doubt; the Monophysite controversy that scarred the late fifth century and the period beyond is evidence enough of that. But although such doctrinal niceties gave the intelligentsia great intellectual satisfaction, to other elements of society they seemed little more than sophistry. To these it appeared that the spiritual imperatives of religion were being subsumed by an excessive concentration on a debate that appeared to have become increasingly academic. In contrast to the tortuous, endless arguments that marked the development of Christianity in the first half of the first millennium, Islam offered a return to older, simpler beliefs. The attraction of this so-called ‘new’ religion was that it was based on traditional and conservative values.

In contrast to the complications that came to characterize parts of Christianity, the early doctrines of Islam were not complex. There were five basic precepts, ‘The Five Pillars’ as they came to be known, that formed the bedrock on which the creed was based.

The first of these ‘Pillars’ was that the religion was monotheistic. It was expressed early on in the development of the religion in the phrase ‘There is no God but God: and Muhammad is the messenger of God’.3 Thus was the ultimate and unchallenged position of Allah stated, along with an assertion of the importance of Muhammad, His Prophet, to the religion. On this basis alone, the legitimacy of Christianity was challenged and rebutted: the confusing status of the Trinity, as the followers of Muhammad saw it, in itself made Christianity a distortion of the true way to God.

Giving support to this primary precept, the other ‘Pillars’ exemplified how the true believer should behave. The importance of prayer was especially emphasized, and the necessity of setting aside certain times of the day as moments when prayer to Allah was to be engaged in was developed. Such moments were times of great ritual, when the community would join together and offer their prayers both corporately and individually. These occasions fostered a bond of community, which welded the people of Islam together, giving them a powerful impetus that other, more divided communities found difficult to resist.

Fasting was also important in Islamic doctrine. It was already a part of the other religions that pre-dated Islam in the region.4 Muhammad would have been particularly aware of the emphasis placed on the Feast of the Passover by the Jewish inhabitants of Medina. He built on the importance of this festival but expanded it significantly. The followers of Islam would fast for a month, during the period that would become known as Ramadan.

It would also be important for the true believer to give overt expression to his beliefs by undertaking pilgrimages to the places that were held important by the faith. Such pilgrimages, known as the hajj, were not only acts that gave the participants a sense of vicarious connection with individuals such as Abraham – and eventually Muhammad himself – who were important to their faith, they were again corporate undertakings which fostered the community spirit of the religion. Finally, Islam also emphasised the importance of almsgiving. As Allah had honoured individuals with the wealth that they held, then in return those individuals should honour Him by offering back a proportion of what they had been blessed with materially. Thus, a fixed proportion of income was to be offered back to Him, equating to one tenth of the wealth of individuals.

These Five Pillars, that is monotheism, the emphasis on prayer, the importance of fasting, the requirement for believers to participate in acts of pilgrimage and the necessity for almsgiving, were supported by a sub-stratum of other beliefs, known as ‘good practices’. One of these was to become very important in its own right. This was the concept of jihad, the armed struggle undertaken by believers to conquer those who did not share their beliefs.

This is not to say that all other religions were treated with disrespect; the reverse was in fact often the case. Although Islam preached that both Judaism and Christianity were flawed distortions of the true faith, there was nevertheless an acceptance that some elements of both religions were doctrinally sound. Christians and Jews were described as ‘People of the Book’, referring to the fact that many of their writings, the Jewish Torah and the Christian Bible for example, found echoes in the Islamic holy book, the Qur an. Both religions would therefore be treated with a degree of tolerance (though over the course of the centuries the tide of such understanding would ebb and flow on occasion) and were normally allowed to practice their religions unmolested, albeit with certain curbs on their freedom. For those people who did not belong to either of these faiths however there was a much greater degree of intolerance exhibited.

Despite the use on many occasions of peaceful tactics in the formative years of Islam, more aggressive measures were also employed. The consequences of the forces unleashed by the development of Islam, both military and idealistic, particularly evidenced in the strong sense of unity that it inspired among its believers, were profound and rarely rivalled for their effects at any other point in the course of human history. When the faith of Muhammad made its way up through the desert wastes of Arabia and into the Middle East, then the centre of civilization, its progress was astounding.

Islam was fortunate in that it timed its appearance to perfection. The West, traditional repository of the balance of power in Rome for the past 700 years, was at the time in a state of constant, bewildering flux. Much of Europe had been overrun as Rome lost its dominance and retreated into a state of irrevocable decline. New cultures were even now taking its place but they were as yet only in their formative years and had much maturation to go through before their promise reached fruition.

Despite the decline of Rome itself, the city’s former Empire lived on, though in a much changed and Hellenistic form, in Constantinople, where the Emperor of Byzantium had inherited the title of Imperator from the Caesars of old. The balance of power shifted markedly to the east. The sixth century had seen some remarkable periods of reconquest by Byzantium. Parts of the Italian peninsula itself were occupied once more (they had been lost to a series of barbarian invasions in the previous century) although in the long run it would be shown that they could not be held. A vibrant successor to Rome appeared to have been established.

In the far east of its empire however Byzantium did not have things all its own way. Here it came into contact with the other great power in the region at that time, the Persian Empire. Although, arguably, the golden age of Persia had come and gone a thousand years before, it was still a force to be reckoned with. Given the close proximity of the two empires, the one Byzantine, the other Persian, it was inevitable that there would often be friction. Ironically, at the same time that Byzantium was winning great victories in Italy and North Africa, the Persians themselves were resurgent.

During the opening years of the seventh century, Persia and Byzantium were constantly at each other’s throats. As far as Islam is concerned, the real importance of this extended period of warfare between Byzantium and Persia revolves around a coincidence of timing. For, at the same time that the Muslim faith was being established in the Arabian Peninsula, which had up until now generally been on the periphery of world affairs, the two traditional great powers in the immediate area were exhausted by the long campaigns that each had been waging against the other. When the forces of Islam moved northwards up the Arabian Peninsula soon after the death of Muhammad from a fever in 632, the nations bordering the Arabs were much weakened by the exertions of the decades immediately past. Their emaciation heralded in a period of extraordinary success for the emergent Islamic religion. The forces of this new creed burst forth from the desert and advanced on Syria. Caught off guard, the Byzantine defences in the region were overrun.

It must have come as an enormous shock when Damascus, at that time held by Byzantium, fell to these Muslim warriors. Certainly, the city’s loss prompted a huge counter-attack. A force of some 80,000 men marched out of Constantinople and across Asia Minor to drive away the forces of Islam. The two armies eventually met near the River Yarmuk in Palestine in 636. At a critical moment in the battle a sandstorm blew up in the faces of the Byzantine troops. Taking advantage of the chaos that ensued, the Islamic forces charged ferociously at the Byzantines. Overwhelmed by the vigour of their attack, the Byzantines started to crack and then broke completely. In a defeat of cataclysmic proportions, their army was overrun. It was a reverse of enormous magnitude.

Jerusalem itself fell soon after and for a time the Muslim tide seemed unstoppable. Having conquered Palestine and Syria, the Islamic forces then turned their attention to Persia. The Sassanid dynasty in Persia proved no more capable of resisting the Muslims than the Byzantines had. The Persians suffered two massive defeats at the Battles of Qadisaya (637) and Nihavand (642). The ruling dynasty was overthrown. Persia was then incorporated into the rapidly expanding Islamic Empire.

This was not the end of this procession of conquest. Egypt fell into Islamic hands. The Muslim armies then advanced across Asia Minor and in 673 they threatened Constantinople itself, though the great walls of the mighty city were too powerful for them to breach, as they were still inexperienced in siege warfare. The Muslim tidal wave then swept across North Africa, engulfing the frail Byzantine territories in the region. From here, they made the short crossing from Africa to Europe across the Straits of Gibraltar. The ruling Visigoth dynasty in Spain was overwhelmed. It was not until the Islamic forces were within two hundred miles of the English Channel that their progress was finally halted by the Franks in 732 under their warrior-king, Charles Martel.

It was an astonishing sequence of successes, which dramatically changed the course of history. Nothing, it appeared, could halt the progress of Islam. The vision of Muhammad had achieved unprecedented results in the world. It took Christianity three hundred years to become the official religion of the Roman Empire. In three quarters of a century the Muslims established an Empire that stretched from the borders of India in the East to France in the West. But from the outset there was one fatal flaw that threatened the very bedrock on which the religion was founded. It is self-evident that Muhammad was an extraordinary man. Who then was to succeed him?

The uncertain answer to this very basic question was to cause schisms within Islam that would divide it violently, inflicting wounds that are still unhealed in modern times. The bitter succession disputes that followed the death of Muhammad would create a fundamental difference of view which in turn would lead to the creation of movements who saw their role as being warriors for what they believed was the true faith, the ‘correct’ form of Islam. Not least among these groups would be that of the Nizaris, whose foundation stemmed ultimately from the chain of events that followed.

Muhammad was first succeeded as caliph by his father-in-law, Abu Bakr.5 He was elected at Medina and died soon after, to be replaced by the Caliph ’Umar, who started the spectacular period of Islamic conquest. ’Umar instituted a body of electors who were to choose his successor. However, he made enemies. In the year 644, in a scene which presaged the actions of the Nizaris some centuries into the future, he was leading prayers in a mosque when an assassin ran forward and stabbed him six times.

The body of electors chose in his place ’Uthmān, one of the first converts to Islam, who was married to two of Muhammad’s daughters. Even now the differences within Islam began to come to a head. ’Uthmān sought to change certain elements of the Qur’an, the holy book of the new religion, and in the process antagonized others who formed a party to oppose him. At their head was Ali, son-in-law of Muhammad through his marriage to the Prophet’s daughter, Fatima. Opposition to ’Uthmān grew to such an extent that in 656 he too fell victim to a murderer’s knife. Assassination had an early effect on the development of Islam, it was clearly not a later Nizari innovation.

Ali subsequently laid claim to be caliph, but in the aftermath of ’Uthmān’s death, dangerous tensions were all too tangible. The supporters of ’Uthmān not unnaturally thirsted for vengeance. Inevitably, many of them saw the hand of Ali behind the death of their late leader. Resistance to Ali centred around the Governor of Syria, Mu’awiya. In an act which was calculated to further increase the thirst for revenge among ’Uthmān’s supporters, the dead caliph’s bloodied robes were displayed prominently in Damascus.

Falteringly, Ali sought to achieve compromise; but civil war was inevitable. In the subsequent conflict, an indecisive battle was fought at Siffin in Iraq, but the balance turned in Mu’awiya’s favour when Egypt fell to him. Soon after, in 661, Ali himself was assassinated. He was succeeded by his son, Hassan, who resigned soon afterwards. Shortly after his resignation, Hassan was reportedly poisoned by one of his wives.6 Inevitably, some blamed Mu’awiya for his death, seeing his hand behind all the adverse events suffered by Ali and his family.

In the wake of the deaths of Ali and Hassan, Mu’awiya assumed sole control. Not unreasonably, given the tensions of the past few years, he felt that his line of succession was insecure. He therefore resolved that, rather than rely on a system of election by which his successor would be agreed upon after his death, he would nominate a man to succeed him while he was alive. He consequently declared that his son Yezid was to take his place when he died.

Both Iraq and Syria confirmed his choice. However, the spiritual heartland of Islam was in Arabia. Mu’awiya therefore decided to travel to Medina and Mecca to have his nominated successor, Yezid, recognized by the inhabitants of these cities. There was a great deal of friction at Medina. Hussein, the son of Ali, and Abud al Rahman, son of Abu Bakr, both refused to recognize the legitimacy of Yezid’s proposed adoption. However, they were not strong enough to resist the might of Mu’awiya so they fled to Mecca. Mu’awiya then turned his attentions to the inhabitants of Mecca, attempting to convince them that it would be best for everyone if Yezid were confirmed as heir to his position. When it became clear that his attempts at subtle coercion were not going to succeed, he dropped all pretence. Virtually at swordpoint, the citizens of Mecca were forced to confirm that Yezid would succeed to Mu’awiya’s position on his death. With the holiest city in Islam having thus declared its support for Yezid, the rest of the Islamic Empire duly followed suit.

That, it appeared, was the end of the matter. The capitulation of Mecca was a crucial act of recognition from the most symbolically important city in the Empire. However, the violent threats accompanying Mu’awiya’s coup left a bitter aftertaste. Although he had set a precedent, and from his time onwards the caliph in power nominated his successor – who was usually his oldest son – the way that he had achieved his success antagonized many. It was no real surprise then when, after his father’s death in 680, Yezid did not achieve universal support. Hussein still rested safe in Mecca, protected by the vast desert sands which separated him from the heart of Yezid’s support in Syria. Although he had refused to recognize the legitimacy of Yezid’s claims, he was unlikely to alter the situation while he was in Mecca which, although it was the spiritual home of Islam, was somewhat on the periphery of the main political events in the Islamic Empire (by this time, Damascus was the political capital of the Muslim world). He might, in other words, be safe enough in Mecca, but he was not in a position to significantly influence events.

Consequently, when in 680 Hussein received offers of support from the city of Kufa in Iraq, he resolved to show his hand and make his way to the city. His friends around him in Mecca cautioned him against making the journey, unconvinced of the sincerity of the offer. Hussein however would have none of it. Reasoning that, if he did not throw caution to the winds, he could never hope to ascend to the highest position in Islam, he made his way across the desert, accompanied by a small band of followers. Ominously, his cousin, who had been sent on ahead to drum up support for him, was intercepted by one of Yezid’s lieutenants and killed. However, although Hussein heard of his fate, he pushed on regardless. En route, he was met by a famous poet named Farazdak, who told him plainly that ‘the heart of the city [Kufa] is on your side but its sword is against you’.

Dismayed at the lack of tangible support for Hussein as he advanced, the Bedouins with him abandoned him in droves. With so few men left, those remaining urged him to return to the safe haven of Mecca. However, he was accompanied by a large number of women and children and he feared that they would not survive the journey home, so he pressed onwards. When he neared Kufa, a large force of men loyal to Yezid rode forth to meet him. They demanded that he should give himself over into their custody. He refused, but instead moved north about 25 miles to a place called Karbala on the Euphrates. Yezid sent out a force to subdue him. It surrounded Hussein’s army and cut off its water supplies. Something of the esteem in which Hussein was held can be gauged by the fact that, although all the non-combatants with him were given the chance to leave freely, none availed themselves of it.

On 10 October 680, Hussein held a parley with Amr, the commander of Yezid’s force. Hussein asked for a personal audience with Yezid but he was refused. Soon after these abortive attempts to negotiate a peaceful solution to the impasse, matters took a violent turn for the worse. Amr had decided to attack Hussein and overcome him by force. The die was cast. He was about to launch an assault, the results of which would have repercussions far into the future. Hussein was massively outnumbered, and the only possible outcome to a battle would be a massacre. Within minutes the forces of Amr were in Hussein’s camp, striking out violently at Hussein and his supporters. Many of his men fell at his side. At the end Hussein himself, racked with thirst in the baking heat, tried to make his way to a nearby river. As he did so, he was run down by the horses of his enemies who trampled over him, leaving only his bloodied, still corpse in their wake.

The massacre of the men with Hussein’s party was absolute. Muhammad’s last surviving grandson was reputedly the last to die. With his comrades lying dead around him he charged into the ranks of his enemies. The resultant struggle was fierce but brief. A violent blow decapitated him. Some of those gathered around him in his enemies’ army expressed their horror when they saw his head, with its lips that had been kissed by the Prophet Himself, lying there in the dust.

The effects of this one-sided battle were enormous. Since the death of Muhammad, a bitter succession dispute had raged over who should rule over Islam. But although this battle appeared to decide the outcome of the argument once and for all, in fact the opposite was the case. Amr’s actions made a martyr of Hussein and his family. The sense of injustice that the subsequently formed Shiite strand of Islam came to feel as a result of his martyrdom was profound, and was responsible for generating intense and radical reactions as a result. In the short-term, rather than killing off resistance to the rule of Yezid, it in fact stoked up opposition to him. In the longer term, the outcome of the battle carved a fissure in the midst of Islam, which would unlock deeply held tensions and feed a long-lasting desire for revenge on the part of the sub-division of Islam known as the Shiites.

At first, it appeared that the massacre of Hussein and his supporters had irrevocably secured the leadership of Islam for Yezid and his successors. Based first of all on the city of Damascus, an outstanding civilization began to flourish. The Arab conquerors, who barely a century before had largely lived a nomadic desert life (although of course the existence of places such as Mecca meant that they were not wholly unfamiliar with town life), adapted to an urbanized existence with remarkable adroitness. It would be wrong to think though that transformation in the conquered territories was in any way immediate. Many of the existing structures of the newly won territories were retained. Byzantine and Persian taxation policies were at first continued, but in the longer term, naturally enough, some changes became apparent. Land taxes were introduced, known as the kharaj, and in an attempt to avoid them ever more residents of the countryside moved to the cities, increasing the urbanization of Muslim civilization.

Despite these impressive achievements, divisions within Islam were there for all to see. Even as the eighth century began, and Islam seemed to be a power that was unstoppable, the tensions within the religion were intensifying. A number of distinct modes of belief called into question any notion of Islamic unity. The frictions that existed between these different modes and their supporters were about to increase in intensity.

Yezid’s supporters formed a dynasty in Damascus – the Umayyad – which for a time appeared to hold a position of unrivalled and unassailable power. However, a new Islamic dynasty eventually established itself in a new city in the East. In 762, this group – known to history as the Abbasid dynasty – established a settlement that would eventually become the great city of Baghdad. However much it may have appeared that the ultimate triumph of Yezid and his successors was assured, such was in fact far from the case. Opposition to them grew. Rejecting the legitimacy of Umayyad rule, another branch of Islam, whose supporters were known as Shiites, also grew ever stronger. In 685 – five years after Hussein’s death – a revolt in Kufa led by al-Mukhtar, who supported Hussein’s half-brother, Muhammad (the third son of the Caliph Ali), presaged the rise of an aggressive and vibrant Shiite reaction against the Umayyads. Significantly, al-Mukhtar declared Muhammad the Mahdi – ‘the divinely guided one’ – a term that would develop very important connotations in the theology of the Shiites.

Shiites held that to be a legitimate successor to Muhammad, the leader of Islam should be able to prove direct descent from Ali, the son-in-law and cousin of the Prophet. The name Shiite in fact derives from ‘Shi’at Ali’, which means ‘of the party of Ali’. An essential part of their doctrine was that a great prophet, known as the Mahdi, would come to earth to presage the end of the world and the destruction of all that is evil. Opponents of the Shiites, who always formed the majority, did not accept this. But the Shiites believed that the Umayyad dynasty was guilty of shedding holy blood by their treatment of Hussein.

In token of their grief at Hussein’s death, the Shiites dressed in black and carried banners of the same hue, unmistakable signs of their dismay at what they saw as the usurpation of power by the Umayyads. Thus when the Abbasids, representing a rival branch of the Prophet’s family, attacked the Umayyads, some Shiites were quick to offer their support. There had been increasingly frequent revolts against the Umayyads – significantly, in view of the birthplace of the Nizaris, many of them from Persia – and when the Abbasids launched their great assault on the Umayyads in the middle of the eighth century, the latter – their society rent by economic difficulties, their Empire grossly over-extended, their claim seeming to some illegitimate, and with large numbers of militants opposed to them on religious grounds – were powerless to resist. The ruling Umayyad caste was overthrown, although one of their leaders managed to flee far to the west, to Spain, where the Umayyads would give impetus to a magnificent late flowering of the dynasty based on Cordoba.