Tariq Ali - The Book of Saladin

Our faith, which in the early days inspired us to build an empire which spanned sea and desert and existed on three continents, now appears to have descended to a grand gesture. We love extremes. When, against all odds, Allah gives us a dramatic victory, we rejoice like children who have won a game of eight-stones. For the next few months we live off our victory. Allah is praised and all is well.

After a defeat we descend low into the very heart of gloom. What we do not understand is that there are no victories without defeats. Every great conqueror in history has suffered setbacks. We are incapable of consistency. After only a few reverses our morale suffers, our spirit is weakened and our discipline disappears. Was this written in our stars? Will we never change? Has the cruelty of fate designated us to a permanent instability? How will we reply to Gabriel on the Day of Judgement when he asks: “O Followers of the great Prophet Mohammed, why, when you were needed the most, did you not help each other in the face of your enemies?”

Our emirs are easily demoralised and discouraged. Easy victories are fine, but when the will of Allah is frustrated by the infidels then our emirs panic, and when this state of mind is observed by the men who fight under their command, they too become despondent and say to each other: “Our emir is missing his wine and women. I, too, am missing my family. We haven’t received any treasure for many months. Perhaps tonight, when the camp is asleep, we should return to our villages.”

It is not easy to maintain the morale of a large army at a level where it is permanently in a state of readiness. The Franj have an advantage over us. Their soldiers come across the water. They cannot run away as easily as we can. All this teaches me is that men fight for a cause that is greater than their own self-interest only when they are genuinely convinced that what they are fighting for will benefit each and all.

When I was a young boy in Baalbek and the sun was shining from a clear blue sky, I would often go out with my brothers to play near the river. Suddenly large black clouds would cover the sky like a blanket, and before we could run back a ripe thunderstorm had already erupted, frightening us with flashes of lightning. It is only when my soldiers are like that thunderstorm that I can behave like lightning. That is what they do not understand and what the emirs, with a few exceptions, are incapable of teaching them. The result is what you see around you. An army in disarray. Our good friend Imad al-Din is now overcome by fear and worry. He writes to inform us that, like the plague, the Franj are out of our control. As long as the sea continues to supply them and our lands continue to give them comfort they will conquer everything. Our great scholar shows his confidence in my abilities by jumping on his horse and fleeing to the safety of Damascus and suggests that I follow him soon. I suppose he prefers to be congratulated on his safety rather than being posthumously praised for his martyrdom. Alas, this is a road specially maintained for the scholars of our realm. It is not a route along which I could travel.

I have written his words down exactly as he spoke them, and they will give you some indication as to the state of his mind. I am concerned that if his health collapses, so will our cause, and the Franj might then retake Jerusalem and burn our people as they did the first time.

I hope this letter finds you in good health and that your esteemed family have managed to survive the Cairo summer.

Your humble pupil,

Ibn Yakub.

The fall of Acre; Imad al-Din’s story of Richard the Lion-Arse; the death of Taki al-Din

MY DEAR AND MOST esteemed friend,

There are many reasons why I have not written you for several months. I have been travelling a great deal from one camp to another, following the Sultan like a trusted dog and happy in my position. In the old days, before the fire that consumed my family, there were occasions when I resented being summoned to the royal presence without even a moment’s notice. Now I feel he really needs me. Perhaps this is pure fantasy, but I know that I certainly need him. At his side, I am distracted from the past. My mind has to be clear to understand the events that take place every day.

There are times when writing to you reminds me of the old house in the Jewish quarter of Cairo, and then I weep. This is especially true on cold nights like tonight when I am sitting in a tent, huddled in a blanket, roasting my hands gently on a fire. Memories take over of the winter nights in Cairo all those years ago. That was one reason for the delay. There was another. I was not sure whether you had received my previous communications or not, and I had no time to make inquiries because of the calamity. We have all been in deep mourning for the loss of Acre.

I was therefore delighted to receive your message via the courier to the Sultan and am pleased that my previous letters have reached you safely. I am also touched by your concern for my health, but on that score there is no cause for worry. It is the Sultan’s state of mind that bothers me. This man can ride for fifty days on horseback with only three-hour rests every night and inspire all his men, but I fear he will drop dead one day and leave us orphans to grieve on our own.

I understand your irritation regarding Imad al-Din, but you are not completely accurate in your estimate of him. As we have had occasion to discuss before, he has many bad habits. His spirit is clouded by arrogance and his body movements are sometimes offensive, especially his habit of raising his left buttock slightly when he passes wind, but this defect is counterbalanced by his many noble qualities which transcend all his weaknesses. He is a man with a romantic spirit. The timbre of his soul is gentle. Enough of him for the moment. I shall return to this subject later.

The magnitude of the disaster that befell us at Acre cannot be underestimated. Philip of France and Richard of England finally took the city. We had no ships to resist their galleys and Salah al-Din’s attempts to divert their attention by a surprise attack on their encampments failed in their purpose. The large armoury in Acre contained all the arms from the coast as well as others from Damascus and Aleppo. The emirs in the citadel sent the Sultan several messages pleading for help and informing him that if they were not relieved they would have no alternative but to ask the Franj for quarter.

The sequence of events was as follows. As the situation deteriorated, three of the leading emirs fled the city under cover of darkness in a small boat. Their cowardly act became known only in the morning and caused a further decline in the morale of the soldiers. Sensing defeat, the commander Qara Kush, whom you know much better than I from his days in Cairo, asked to see the Sultans of England and France to negotiate a surrender and the withdrawal of all our soldiers. Philip was prepared to accept the terms demanded by Qara Kush, but Richard wished to humiliate our army and refused. Salah al-Din sent a message forbidding surrender, but even though our army had received reinforcements we could not break the siege. Qara Kush surrendered without the Sultan’s authority, but Richard insisted on extremely tough terms. Qara Kush felt he had no alternative but to accept the offer.

It was the greatest reverse ever suffered by Salah al-Din. He had not been defeated for fourteen years and now he wept like a child. They were tears of anger, of despair and frustration. He felt that with stronger leadership inside the city it need not have fallen. He reproached himself. He railed against the babble of futile counsel and cursed the cowardly emirs. He pledged that he would never give up the struggle to test the spirit and the faith of the Believers. He spoke of the light temporarily hidden by a cloud and he swore in the name of Allah that the stars would once again shine before the break of dawn. It was difficult not to be moved by his tears or the words that accompanied them.