Richard might have been angry with the move, but nonetheless the Hospitallers had forced Saladin back, allowing the Crusaders to enter Arsuf and establish a defensive position. Regrouping his forces, Richard now ordered the Templars to attack the Ayyubid left and finish off the job.
Wielding their swords, the Templars not only succeeded in forcing the left to retreat but they were also able to defeat a counterattack by Saladin’s Mamluk guard. With both Ayyubid flanks reeling, Richard personally led forward his remaining knights against Saladin’s centre. This charge shattered the Ayyubid line and caused Saladin’s army to flee the field into the wooded hills. However, with darkness approaching, Richard called off any pursuit of the defeated enemy, fearing that chasing them into the woodland would expose them to a trap.
Exact casualties for the Battle of Arsuf are not known, but it is estimated that Crusader forces lost around 700–1,000 men, while Saladin’s army may have suffered as many as 7,000 casualties. This was a monumentally important victory for the Crusaders. It not only removed Saladin’s air of invincibility, but it also provided the Templars and Hospitallers with revenge for Hattin.
However, such a victory did not mean Jerusalem could now be taken. Saladin found it easy to replace dead horses and dead soldiers in his own lands, while the Crusaders were far from home. As such, Saladin quickly recovered and focused on the defence of Jerusalem. When Richard marched to within sight of the city, he was advised by both the Templar and the Hospitaller grand masters that even if he took it, they would not be able to hold it without also controlling the surrounding hinterland.
With the two cancelling each other out, Richard and Saladin were forced to reach an agreement. Richard wrote to Saladin, ‘The Muslims and the Franks are done for, the land is ruined at the hands of both sides. All we have to talk about is Jerusalem, the True Cross and these lands. Jerusalem is the centre of our worship, which we shall never renounce.’ In response to this, Saladin wrote, ‘Jerusalem is ours just as much as yours. Indeed, for us it is greater than it is for you, for it is where Our Prophet came on his Night Journey and the gathering place of the angels.’
After all the bluster, there was no getting away from the fact that a compromise would have to be reached. Eventually it was agreed that the Crusaders would demolish the walls of Ascalon, while Saladin would recognise the Christian positions along the coast. Free movement would also be allowed to Christians and Muslims across each other’s territory, while Christian pilgrims would be permitted to visit Jerusalem and the other holy places. However, the Templars now had to make their new home at Acre, rather than return to Temple Mount. Nevertheless, the Third Crusade, in which Richard relied heavily on his elite knights, had saved the Holy Land for the Christians and kept the Muslim forces from invading Europe in greater numbers.
Richard would have a tumultuous return home, eventually dying from an infected wound sustained during a minor siege in France in 1199. European support of the military campaigns in the Holy Land also began to erode over the decades that followed his death, while the Templars and Hospitallers became fierce rivals. Their nadir came in the 1260s, when Templars and Hospitallers exchanged sword blows in the streets of Antioch. In the midst of battle against the Mamluks, a Hospitaller was said to have called out to a Templar, ‘This night we shall have a word to say to each other in Paradise.’
‘I doubt it,’ replied the Templar, ‘for my tent will surely be placed on the opposite side of that place from yours!’
By 1303, the Templar order had lost its foothold in the Muslim world and established a base of operations in Paris. There, King Philip IV of France resolved to bring down the order, perhaps because the Templars had denied the indebted ruler additional loans.
On 13 October 1307, scores of French Templars were arrested, including the order’s grand master Jacques de Molay. Many of the knights were brutally tortured until they confessed to false charges, which included heresy, homosexuality, financial corruption, devil worship, fraud, spitting on the cross and more. A few years later, dozens of Templars were burned at the stake in Paris for their confessions. De Molay himself was executed in this fashion in 1314. Under pressure from King Philip IV, Pope Clement V reluctantly dissolved the Knights Templar, with the group’s property and monetary assets being given to the Hospitallers.
It was the Hospitallers’ charitable activities that saved them from the same grim fate that befell the Templars. When the Crusader principalities came to an end after the fall of Acre in 1291, the Hospitallers moved to Limassol in Cyprus and, in 1309, they acquired Rhodes, which they came to rule as an independent state. However, by the fifteenth century the Turks had caused them to flee and search for a new home. In 1530, the Holy Roman emperor Charles V gave the Hospitallers the Maltese archipelago, from where they saw off one of the most famous sieges in history, when the Turk, Suleiman the Magnificent, sought to invade in 1565. Eventually losing the island to Napoleon in 1798, they found a new home in Rome, where they gradually gave up warfare and turned wholly to territorial administration and medical care. The Hospitaller order still survives today, although its primary duties now involve issuing passports.
However, while the Middle East was dominated by the holy war between Muslims and Christians, there was one deadly group that did battle with both, not only targeting Saladin but also the future king of Jerusalem . . .
8
THE ASSASSINS
AD 1192
In the Crusader stronghold of Tyre, the extravagantly dressed Conrad of Montferrat emerged from the doorway of his friend, Philip, bishop of Beauvais, and happily walked down the dark, quiet streets. A key figure in the Third Crusade, Conrad had acted as chief negotiator in the surrender of Acre, and raised the king’s banners in the city. And on this night, he had something to celebrate. Just days before, the barons of the Kingdom of Jerusalem had unanimously elected him as king, despite the protestations of King Richard and King Guy. After years of dispute and bloodshed, Conrad would finally be the most powerful man in the Holy Land.
Breathing in the fresh night breeze, Conrad walked down a narrow alley and happily thought of the future, when up ahead he suddenly saw two monks he knew well. Both were recent converts to the Christian faith, a source of pride for Conrad, as he hoped that, once he ruled, everyone in the region would shun Islam and do likewise. However, as he smiled at the monks, whom he believed to be his friends, he did not know that they were in fact agents of the Nizari Ismaili religious sect, otherwise known as the ‘Assassins’, and they’d been waiting for this exact moment for years.
The Assassins’ story begins in AD 632 with the fracturing of the Islamic faith upon the death of the Prophet Muhammad. With a vacuum in the Islamic leadership, two forms of Islam soon developed, Sunnis and Shiites. In time, the Shiite branch grew popular with non-Arabs in newly conquered lands, especially Persia where converts developed their own traditions, customs and interpretations. However, in the eighth and ninth centuries a new Shiite faction emerged: the Ismaili.
While the Ismaili were initially a small, marginalised Shiite faction, the introduction of Hasan Sabbah to their faith would dramatically change their fortunes. Although Hasan’s autobiography has since been destroyed, the historian Ata-Malik Juvayni read it in the thirteenth century and has provided much of the information we know today.
Born in 1052, in the town of Ray, just south of modern Tehran, Hasan was raised in the Shiite religion before converting to Ismailism in his teens. Obsessed, he soon commenced training to become an Ismaili missionary, first moving to Cairo and then returning to Persia, where he focused his efforts on the Elburz mountains along the southern shores of the Caspian Sea. Thanks to his charm and magnetic personality, he slowly but surely added more Ismaili converts to his ranks. Part of the lure was utilising one thing all potential converts had in common: an intense hatred of the Sunni Seljuks, led by Sultan Malikshah and his vizier, Nizam al-Mulk.
While it is likely that religion alone led to Hasan viewing al-Mulk
as an adversary, some suggest that they had known each other since their schooldays, and that Hasan had even gone on to work for al-Mulk, taking on a post in his court. Apparently alarmed at Hasan’s startling progress, it is said that al-Mulk deliberately discredited him in the eyes of the sultan, which resulted in Hasan leaving the court in humiliation. Whether or not this is true has been lost to time but we know for a fact that Hasan viewed al-Mulk as his enemy and sought to destroy him.
To achieve this goal, Hasan believed he needed a base for his converts, particularly with the Seljuks growing ever more hostile. In the late 1080s, he found just the place. Located in the rugged Elburz mountains, northwest of modern Tehran, the castle of Alamut sat high on a towering mountain, with just one track leading to it and deep gorges surrounding it. With its 360-degree views across the landscape, it was all but impregnable. Hasan knew that from here he could really build his faith, and his army. However, there was just one problem. The castle of Alamut was occupied by the Sunni Seljuks. If Hasan wanted it, then he had to somehow take it from them.
With limited military power, Hasan could not take it by force. But what he lacked in manpower he made up for in charisma and creativity. He subsequently sent his Ismaili agents into the surrounding communities to spread the faith before they were able to infiltrate the castle itself. Right under the noses of the Seljuks the Ismaili faith soon spread like wildfire. Before long, most of the castle garrison had been converted, and, without blood being spilt, Hasan entered the castle on 4 September 1090.
From this magnificent base, Hasan spread Ismaili propaganda and acquired more fiercely devoted followers who were unable to resist his magnetic personality. The twelfth-century Crusader, William of Tyre said of the Ismaili’s extreme loyalty to their leader:
The bond of submission and obedience that binds this people to their chief is so strong, that there is no task so arduous, difficult or dangerous that any one of them would not undertake to perform it with the greatest zeal.
Such was Hasan’s devotion to his cause that he even sentenced his two sons to death for breaking his code. While one was accused of murdering a holy man, a charge later proved to be false, the other was executed for drinking wine. It was even said that he expelled one member of the sect for the crime of playing the flute.
As the Ismaili faith grew, so did its real estate, as Hasan seized, and built, more castles. Juvayni said of this, ‘Wherever he found a suitable rock he built a castle upon it.’ Soon the high valleys of Rudbar assumed the character of a miniature state – a heavily fortified Ismaili island in a Seljuk sea.
While the Seljuks did not initially respond to Hasan’s taking of Alamut Castle, they could no longer ignore the spread of the Ismaili faith. Nizam al-Mulk described it as ‘the pus of sedition’ and vowed to eradicate Ismailism once and for all.
Hasan was well aware that, in a straight fight, his Ismailis could never hope to defeat the Seljuks’ 300,000-strong army. But this led him to another idea. He could certainly cut off the head of the snake and let the main body wither and die. As such, he targeted Nizam al-Mulk for assassination.
To carry out such a mission, he looked to his most devoted followers – the fida’iyin. The fida’iyin were young, tough, resourceful mountain men, who were willing to follow their master wherever he might send them. Their recruitment initially involved an assessment of their physical fitness, fighting qualities and determined character, before Hasan would persuade them of his immense power and closeness to God. He did this by inviting them to a feast, where during conversation he would claim that he had the power to transport followers to Paradise. To achieve this, he would drug their food and drink. When they passed out, he had them taken to his secret, spectacular gardens, which he claimed to be Paradise.
I have seen similar brainwashing techniques during my time in Oman. In a school named after Lenin, 500 Dhofari children were forced to recite the thoughts of Chairman Mao parrot-fashion and to forget their Islam religion. Indeed, any mention of Islam was to be strictly punished. These young children were indoctrinated day after day, year after year, with Marxist propaganda. Any individualistic trait was stamped out and in time they became Marxist robots, trained to hate anything that did not follow this rigid doctrine. Once this had been cemented into their minds they were thrown into battle. It was heartbreaking to see these young men lose their lives for a cause they did not really believe in but had no choice but to fight for.
Many of the fida’iyin were no doubt the same, but with the supposed promise of Paradise, Hasan could persuade them to take on any mission. These men truly believed they were doing God’s work and were not only prepared to lay down their lives for their religion, but were also expected to be rewarded in the afterlife for doing so. As such, it was almost seen as a reward for them, and their family, should they die when serving Hasan. When one fida’i returned home from a mission in which his compatriots had perished, his mother was so ashamed that her son had survived that she cut off her hair and blackened her face.
The fact that these chosen men happily embraced death is what truly made them terrifying. It is a mindset that has inspired countless terrorist groups over the years, such as Hamas, Hezbollah, al-Qaeda and ISIS. But there was one key difference. The fida’iyin refused to kill innocents. Instead, they struck specifically, cleanly and discriminately at their target.
Knowing he could rely on such men to do his bidding, Hasan picked out his elite squad and commenced their training. Over a series of months, nothing was left to chance. First, the chosen fida’iyin learnt how to gather intelligence on their target, with Hasan inserting an Ismaili spy into the Seljuk headquarters, who watched al-Mulk’s every move.
To ensure success, Hasan demanded that the assassination be carried out at close quarters. An arrow or spear ran the risk of missing its mark, while there was always an antidote to poison. But there was another, more compelling, reason. He wanted the murder to shock the Seljuks by showing them that the Ismailis could get close to their greatest leaders. As such, he picked the fida’i he believed was best suited for this particular job, Bu Tahir, and trained him relentlessly.
Having received a blessing from his master, on 14 October 1092, Bu Tahir set out for Baghdad, where al-Mulk was currently residing. Intelligence had shown that al-Mulk could never refuse a blessing from a Sufi mystic. Bu Tahir entered al-Mulk’s camp disguised in the robes of a holy man, while concealing a dagger beneath his clothing. Disappearing into the shadows of the night, he knew al-Mulk’s routine like the back of his hand. First, al-Mulk would enjoy his nightly Ramadan feast. Then, with his guard down, he would be carried on his litter to his hareem. It was at this moment that Bu Tahir struck.
Approaching the vizier, with his head bowed, Tahir offered a religious petition for his consideration. Al-Mulk’s guards instantly stood in his way, surrounding their master. But Tahir knew that al-Mulk would not be able to resist. Just as he expected, al-Mulk waved his guards away and beckoned the seemingly innocent mystic forward. It was a fatal mistake. Bu Tahir reached inside his robes, as if looking for the petition, but instead pulled out a knife. Before the guards could react, Tahir stabbed the old man in the chest. With his mission complete, Tahir merely accepted his fate and was killed by the guards, no doubt hoping he would now be rewarded in Paradise.
Al-Mulk’s death was momentous news. For Hasan, it promised the freedom to really advance and maintain the Ismaili religion, as he said, ‘The killing of this devil is the beginning of bliss.’ The assassination, and its manner, also sent a powerful message to all of their heavily armed enemies – while they might be a tiny force, they could take on a vastly superior enemy, and win.
Over the coming years, the reputation of Hasan’s Ismailis continued to grow. Appearing like ghosts, they would strike down their target with a dagger, then embrace death. The fact that so many of these kills were carried out in public, often before large crowds of horrified witnesses, ensured their reputation as coldblooded killers spread far and wi
de.
While these kills achieved their objective, the Ismailis soon discovered that the psychological effect was far more powerful. Many of their enemies, and their followers, became too scared to go about their daily business, never sure when the ghostlike Assassins might strike. Soon anyone who thought they might be on an Ismaili hit list began to hire bodyguards and wear chain-mail armour under their clothing. This meant that the Assassins often didn’t even need to kill their targets. The dread they inspired did the job for them. I saw similar tactics in operation in Dhofar. The Adoo would never be content with just shooting a man if a grislier, more shocking, death was available to them. Hence, they threw many men off cliffs in front of their fellow villagers. This had a profound psychological effect on them and soon brought everyone into line, thus ensuring the Adoo did not have to kill the whole village.
The Ismailis’ tactics were so successful that no warlord or religious leader dared to attack them. However, their enemies soon learnt to fight back with their own unconventional means.
In an attempt to discredit Hasan and his followers, they spread wild stories, deriding them as crazy, brainwashed, drug-taking fanatics, who were manipulated by their evil leader high in the mountains. These notions were even repeated in The Travels of Marco Polo, which cemented the Ismailis’ reputation as drug-fuelled thugs for centuries to come. Such accusations did, however, lead to the Ismailis becoming known by the name we all recognise today. The Sunnis apparently called Hasan and his band of Ismailis the ‘Hashishi’. While this was supposed to reference their addiction to smoking hash, the nickname soon morphed into the ‘Assassins’.
The Elite Page 10
