MOST medieval special operations have long been forgotten, and have failed to leave a mark on either the popular or the academic image of medieval warfare. The sole exception is the operations conducted by the Nizari sect, made famous as the Order of the Assassins. The Nizaris not only bequeathed to posterity the memory of one of the most successful clandestine organizations in history, but have also enriched European languages with the word ‘assassination’ itself, denoting the use of premeditated murder of key individuals as a military and political tool. For assassin derives from the Arabic word hashīshīn – a pejorative term, meaning ‘users of hashish’ – by which hostile Muslim sources occasionally referred to the Nizari sect.1
The Nizaris were a radical millenarian sect that sprang up in northern Persia in the late eleventh century, a splinter of the Isma’ili sect, which was itself a radical splinter group of Shi’ite Islam. Nizari theology and practices ran counter to mainstream Sunni Islam, and were anathema even to most Shi’ites and Isma’ilis. The assassinations of which the Nizaris were proudest were those of two Sunni caliphs in 1135 and 1138. In 1164 the Nizaris even took the extreme step of proclaiming the qiyāma, or the end of time and of the Law. All prohibitions of Muslim Law were formally abolished, and the faithful were encouraged to ceremoniously break the Law by such gestures as drinking wine, eating pork, feasting on the month of Ramadan, and praying with their backs towards Mecca.
Their doctrines and practices roused the fears and hostility of Sunnis, Shi’ites, and moderate Isma’ilis, and of both the religious and secular powers. The Seljuk Empire strained itself to smother the fledging movement in its cradle, whereas the Isma’ili Fatimid Empire, whose agents were the movement’s initial leaders, soon began to perceive it as a deadly danger. A typical anti-Nizari tract argued that
To kill them is more lawful than rainwater. It is the duty of sultans and kings to conquer and kill them, and cleanse the surface of the earth from their pollution. It is not right to associate or form friendships with them, nor to eat meat butchered by them, nor to enter into marriage with them. To shed the blood of a [Nizari] heretic is more meritorious than to kill seventy Greek infidels.2
In response, the movement’s leader, Hasan i-Sabah, anticipated future revolutionaries by reverting to the use of special operations. Beginning around 1080 he orchestrated one of the most successful campaigns ever of assassination, subversion, and subterfuge. Within a few years i-Sabah liquidated some of his main critics and enemies, and took over a large number of fortresses and villages in the more remote and mountainous parts of Persia, including the famous Alamut, which became his headquarters. He realized that he was still too weak to venture into the plains and main population centres, so he established a loose-knit network of mountain theocracies, from which his followers set out on missions of proselytizing and subversion.
These theocracies were militarily weak, and a determined effort could have wiped them out. But the systematic assassination of hostile religious preachers and political leaders meant that few leaders had the stomach to suggest – let alone lead – an attack on the Nizari enclaves. As the Sunni historian Juvaini notes, merely to record the names of all those assassinated by the Nizaris would take too long.3 i-Sabah then widened his sphere of action, sending missionaries far and wide. These missionaries attempted to copy the Persian example and establish independent Nizari enclaves in other parts of the Middle East. They strove to gain adherents by their missionary work, to seize fortresses by subversion, and to cow opponents by assassination.
In Syria their initial attempts to gain a foothold in or near the main cities such as Aleppo and Damascus failed. However, between 1132 and 1141 they managed to capture several castles in the Bahra mountains – a wild mountainous borderland between the Muslim and Frankish powers – where they established an independent Nizari principality (see map 2).4 Perhaps 60,000 Nizaris lived there. From 1162 until 1193 the Syrian enclave was led by a charismatic leader called Rashīd al-Dīn Sinān, who became famous in the West as the Old Man of the Mountain. Hostile Muslim and Frankish sources were fascinated with Sinān, and most describe him in similar terms to Kamāl al-Dīn: ‘an outstanding man, of secret devices, vast designs, and great jugglery, with power to incite and mislead hearts, to hide secrets, outwit enemy and to use the vile and the foolish for his evil purposes’ 5 Nizari sources give a similar picture of Sinān as an extremely capable man of unfathomable knowledge and the powers of a wizard, though they of course evaluate him in the most favourable terms.
The nature of Nizari activities sparked the imagination of medieval authors as well as modern ones, and gave rise to numerous tall tales. It is consequently very difficult to tell fact from fiction in Nizari history. In particular, almost every important assassination that took place throughout the Middle East and even Europe in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries was attributed to the Nizaris. They were an easy scapegoat for the real culprits, partly because they were indeed responsible for hundreds of assassinations, and partly because they had much to gain from their deadly reputation, and were therefore not unwilling to take credit for other people’s handiwork.
Most of the Nizaris’ victims were Sunni Muslims, and they were often on good or at least tolerable terms with their Christian and Frankish neighbours. The only major Frankish leader assassinated by them before 1192 was Count Raymond II of Tripoli (1152), perhaps due to a border dispute with the Nizari Bahra principality.6 Yet of all their various exploits, the one that left the deepest mark on Western historical consciousness was the murder of Conrad of Montferrat, a few days before he was crowned king of Jerusalem.
The Montferrats were one of the most important noble families of Northern Italy. They were related by blood to the Hohenstaufen emperors of Germany and to the Capetian kings of France, and were also closely allied to several of the imperial families of Byzantium. Conrad was the second son of William III, Marquis of Montferrat, and succeeded his father as marquis in 1190/1. After an impressive military career in Italy in the 1170s and 1180s, Conrad arrived in the Holy Land towards the end of July 1187, only to discover that a few weeks previously the Frankish field army had been annihilated at the battle of Hattin, and that the towns and fortresses of the Kingdom of Jerusalem were surrendering in droves to the victor, Saladin.
Docking at the important port city of Tyre, Conrad found it overflowing with refugees and ready to surrender at a moment’s notice. Striking a defiant pose, he reassured the defenders that their situation was in fact far from hopeless, and offered to take charge of the defence himself, if in return they would accept him as their lord and commander. Tyre was part of the royal patrimony of the kings of Jerusalem, and the king, Guy de Lusignan, was alive. However, Guy was a prisoner of Saladin, and with the other native leaders either dead, captive, or in flight, Tyre’s defenders accepted Conrad’s offer with both hands.
Conrad quickly reinvigorated the defence, and while the rest of the kingdom was succumbing to Saladin, he worked ceaselessly to strengthen Tyre’s fortifications and morale. When Saladin eventually arrived before Tyre in November 1187 he found the city ready for him. The siege ended in a decisive victory for Conrad on both land and sea. It was Saladin’s first setback after Hattin, and in January 1188 his army lifted the siege. When the main armies of the Third Crusade began arriving at the Holy Land in 1189, Tyre provided them with a sorely needed bridge-head.
In the years 1189–92 the Holy Land witnessed two major struggles. Crusader armies that gathered from almost the entire continent of Europe, and were led by King Philip August of France and King Richard the Lion-Heart of England, strove to reverse the outcome of Hattin and re-establish the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Acre fell to them after a siege of two years, Saladin was defeated in several battles, and eventually a thin sliver of coastline was wrested from the Muslims and reconstituted as what historians term ‘the Kingdom of Acre’
Simultaneously, a fierce brawl took place for the possession of this rump kingdom. On the one side, after his successful defence of Tyre, Conrad of Montferrat began to see himself as the de facto king, or at least a potential king, by right of conquest. On the other side, there was King Guy, whom Saladin released from captivity in the summer of 1188 in the hope of fomenting discord amongst the Franks. Guy and Conrad did not disappoint Saladin’s hopes, and quickly fell to fighting over the crown of the nonexistent kingdom. When the main Crusader armies arrived from Europe, the rivalry between Conrad and Guy was grafted unto a much weightier stock. King Philip August of France took up the cause of his kinsman Conrad, whereas King Richard the Lion-Heart of England supported Guy.
The legal ruler of the kingdom was actually neither Conrad nor Guy, but Guy’s wife, Queen Sibylla. It was Sibylla who gave Guy the crown of Jerusalem by choosing him as her husband, against bitter protests of the Frankish nobility. In 1190 she and her two daughters died from an illness that struck the Crusader camp, thereby depriving Guy of any legal claims to the throne, whose rightful heir was now Sibylla’s half-sister, Isabella. Under pressure from her mother and the Frankish nobility, Isabella was forced to divorce her weak husband, Humphrey of Toron, and marry Conrad instead (24 November 1190). Conrad thereby became the legal king of Jerusalem, as well as marquis of Montferrat (by which title many of the sources refer to him). Guy remained as no more than the late queen’s widower.
Richard nevertheless continued to support Guy’s claim against Conrad and Philip. When Philip went back to France and Richard remained behind to conduct his titanic duel with Saladin, Conrad distanced himself from the Crusader army to such an extent that many believed he had switched sides and reached some secret understanding with Saladin. However, in 1192 the deteriorating situation in England forced Richard to return home. Before leaving, he realized that he had to settle the dispute for the throne of Jerusalem. In early April he gathered at Ascalon a council of the leading men of the army and of the local Frankish noblemen to decide the issue. All present unanimously chose Conrad as king, and Richard reluctantly accepted their verdict.
On 20 April 1192 Count Henry of Champagne, Richard’s nephew, arrived at Tyre at the head of an impressive retinue, and offered Conrad the long-desired crown. According to the Itinerarium, the delighted Conrad lifted his hands to heaven in exultation, and prayed: ‘Lord God… I beg, Lord, that if You judge me worthy to govern Your kingdom, I will live to see myself crowned. But if You think differently about me, Lord, may You never consent to my being promoted to it.’7 He then busily set about preparing for his coronation, which was to take place in Acre within a few days.
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IN the last days of April 1192 Tyre was in a festive mood. Not only the destined king, but all his followers and the ordinary citizens made their preparations for the coming coronation. Money was borrowed and spent lavishly, clothes were sewn and mended, and weapons were polished, in order to make the best impression in the coronation ceremony and the following revelry.
Rashīd al-Dīn Sinān was also making preparations, but of a very different nature. Some time before, he had decided to eliminate the would-be king. Sinān’s motives have been the subject of furious controversies ever since 1192. Many have claimed that the assassination was in fact Richard’s doing, and that he convinced Sinān by some combination of bribery, threats, and promises to have the marquis of Montferrat killed. Others have placed the blame on Saladin, arguing that it was the sultan rather than the king of England who pressed Sinān to have Conrad murdered. It is worth noting that when Saladin subsequently concluded a peace treaty with Richard and the Franks, he insisted that the Nizaris too should be protected by it.
The fact that Conrad was murdered very shortly after the Ascalon conference may support either version. It could be that, after being rebuffed at Ascalon, Richard decided to remove Conrad by underhand methods. The conference provided Saladin too with a motivation he previously lacked. Before the conference Saladin benefited from the division within the Christians’ ranks, and therefore had no incentive to kill Conrad. But once the marquis was unanimously acclaimed king, Saladin had much to fear from that capable and ruthless opponent, and much to gain from killing him and reopening the contest for the crown of Jerusalem.
If Saladin was indeed the culprit, it is interesting to note that the sultan of the Ayyubid Empire had to cajole the head of the tiny Nizari enclave in order to have Conrad assassinated, and did not command any suitable hit-men of his own. If, however, Richard was behind the murder, it is more understandable why he commissioned it from Sinān instead of entrusting the job to some of his own men. Richard must have been only too aware of the dangers of using one’s own men to eliminate a Christian hero. He could well remember what happened to his father, Henry II, when the latter encouraged his household knights to free him from that ignoble priest, Archbishop Thomas Becket of Canterbury (1170).
Other sources argue that Sinān had his own motives to murder Conrad. According to one version Conrad had no one but himself to blame for his murder. When a ship belonging to Sinān anchored in Tyre, the marquis coveted its wealth, and ordered his men to seize it. Conrad twice refused Sinān’s requests to return the captives and the stolen possessions, thereby sealing his own death warrant.8 This story, however, has been questioned, and may well have been invented by Richard’s supporters to exonerate him. It is not backed by any Muslim source.
It is impossible to be sure today what really motivated Sinān, and who was ultimately responsible for Conrad’s murder. What is certain is that the Nizaris were neither puppets nor mercenaries. Just a few years earlier, when Saladin sent Sinān a threatening letter, the Nizari leader replied in the most insolent terms, writing to Saladin that ‘it is astonishing to find a fly buzzing in an elephant’s ear’ 9 Even if he was prompted to murder Conrad by either Richard or Saladin, Sinān would have consented to do so only if it served Nizari interests. And whatever these interests were, by late April 1192, while Tyre was all hustle and bustle in preparation for the coronation, two Nizari assassins were walking its streets, stalking the marquis and awaiting their opportunity.
From a purely military viewpoint, the most interesting question regarding Nizari activities is how the fidā’īs – as the Nizari assassins called themselves – were trained and prepared for their mission. This question has taxed the imagination of writers from the Middle Ages till today, and gave rise to numerous legends and speculations. The most persistent of these legends concerns the term hashīshīn. Some Western authors have wrongly linked this pejorative term to the Nizaris’ amazing skill in assassination, and concluded that Nizari assassins performed their deadly operations under the influence of narcotics, or were at least trained and brain-washed with the help of narcotics. There is not a shred of truth in this story. Mainstream Muslim authors referred to the Nizaris as hashīshīn because the latter was a common pejorative in medieval Islamic culture, indicating libertinism and moral laxity. It was levelled against many sects suspected of unorthodox beliefs and behaviours, and had nothing to do with assassinations.10
Another common but baseless legend – initially spread by hostile Muslim authors – is that inside some of the Nizari strongholds there were secluded gardens of pleasure to which young recruits were secretly brought and told that they were in Paradise. There they indulged in sexual and other sensual pleasures until being removed from the garden. Fully convinced now of the existence of Paradise, and told that they could return and live there for all eternity if they sacrificed their lives for the cause, these recruits were henceforth willing to do anything asked of them, and gladly undertook even suicidal missions.
Though neither legend has any factual basis, they both highlight one of the main factors that contributed to the fidā’īs’ successes, namely their unsurpassed motivation and willingness to sacrifice their lives. Their motivation was crucial for two reasons. First, as we shall see, fidā’īs were occasionally planted near enemy targets and remained there for months or years before being activated. Strong motivation was needed to keep them faithful during this long period of waiting. Secondly, once they were activated, their willingness to lose their life for the cause facilitated the accomplishment of assassination missions, for it is obviously far easier to plan and execute an assassination when you need not worry about escaping afterwards.
This strong motivation was, however, the product of religious conviction rather than of intoxication with drugs or sensual pleasures. During the Middle Ages as well as other periods, many sects and religions produced cohorts of martyrs who willingly underwent torture or killed themselves without the aid of drugs or sensual amusement parks. As Juvaini writes, the fidā’īs were largely prompted by ‘misguided striving after bliss in the world to come’ 11
Yet strong motivation in itself was not enough, for it does not necessarily turn people into effective fighters and assassins. The Nizari fidā’īs clearly possessed superb skills in the arts of infiltration and murder, which distinguished them from the run-of-the-mill medieval zealot, and transformed them into one of the most fearsome of medieval strategic weapons. How exactly did they acquire these skills, which obviously could only rarely be transmitted from one generation of fidā’īs to the next?
The Nizaris owed much of their covert skills to their experience as a persecuted missionary sect. Whereas many Muslim, Christian, and Jewish sects in the Middle Ages set a premium on a public profession of faith in the face of persecution, even at the cost of martyrdom, the Nizaris embraced and developed the Shi’ite doctrine of taqiyya, according to which the faithful were allowed and even encouraged to hide or repudiate their faith in order to avoid detection and persecution, and to spread their message. Even after establishing their mountain theocracies, Nizari missionaries were regularly sent into hostile territories to spread the faith, and often both these missionaries and their new converts had to live in secrecy and hide their true identities for long periods, thereby gaining ample experience in various clandestine arts.
For instance, Ibn al-Qalānisī writes that upon arrival in Syria, the Nizari missionary Bahrām ‘lived in extreme concealment and secrecy, and continually disguised himself, so that he moved from city to city and castle to castle without anyone being aware of his identity’, while gaining converts for the new faith.12 According to Sinān’s autobiography (parts of which were preserved by Kamāl al-Dīn and Juvaini), when Sinān was sent from Alamut to Syria he was given letters of introduction to Nizari agents in various towns along the route, who hid him and hired mounts for him, so that he was able to travel from Northern Persia to Aleppo in complete secrecy and relative ease. These clandestine networks of missionaries and converts produced people with excellent infiltration skills, and facilitated assassination missions.
Many sources, both Middle Eastern and European, also insist that the Nizaris groomed an elite corps of individuals who were particularly adept at these covert arts. According to these sources, Nizari leaders used to bring up in their strongholds a number of boys, whom they raised and schooled from a young age, teaching them in particular many languages and the manners of different races and people. These could then be sent on various covert missions to foreign lands, whether as missionaries or assassins. Farhad Daftary argues that this is just another baseless legend spread about the Nizaris, but there is much firmer evidence supporting this particular story. According to Sinān’s own autobiography, he first arrived at Alamut as a penniless youth after fleeing his home, and was schooled there by Muhammad ibn Buzurgumīd, leader of the Nizari movement from 1138 to 1162. Muhammad had two sons, and Sinān recalled that Muhammad ‘put me in school with them, and gave me exactly the same treatment as he gave them, in those things that are needful for the support, education, and clothing of children’ 13 His education complete, Sinān was sent as a missionary to Mesopotamia and Syria. According to other accounts preserved by Kamāl al-Dīn and to a Nizari biography of Sinān, once he arrived in Syria, Sinān worked for up to seven years as a schoolmaster for boys.
The linguistic skills of fidā’īs and their ability to merge into different cultural habitats were often commented upon not only by ignorant Europeans, but also by far better informed Middle Eastern authors and even by Nizari authors. Thus an apocryphal Nizari tale, which is a garbled account of Conrad’s murder, and which was preserved in a Nizari biography of Sinān, tells how Sinān had ‘a king of the Franks’ assassinated at Acre. The tale stresses the importance of the fidā’īs’ linguistic skills, explaining that the two fidā’īs who killed the Frankish king were taught by Sinān to speak the Frankish tongue, were dressed in Frankish customs and carried Frankish swords, and were thereby able to infiltrate the Frankish camp at night, enter the king’s pavilion, and cut off his head.14
Moreover, the idea of bringing up children from a tender age in ‘state-owned’ boarding-schools, under the supervision of the head of state, and instructing them in various arts for future military and political usage, was certainly very common among contemporary Islamic powers. Many Islamic courts habitually raised such Mameluks and Ghulams. Some were educated in military arts to become elite fighting troops, while others were educated in civilian arts to become administrators. Though no source makes the comparison, it may well be that the Nizaris copied the practice, except that their Mameluks were trained primarily for covert operations rather than for regular combat or administration.15
The Nizaris’ final asset was patience and foresight. Once they decided to eliminate a person, they often waited for months and years before making an attempt on his life. For example, the attempt on the life of Buri of Damascus, which is discussed below, took place almost two years after he massacred the city’s Nizari community. This gave the fidā’īs time to plant themselves near the target and get to know him and his surroundings. At other times, it seems that the Nizaris planted fidā’īs in key locations as a matter of course, to be activated as and when a need arose. This was not always effective as a response to unforeseen short-term threats, but over decades it built up an enormously effective reputation of terror.
For example, Kamāl al-Dīn narrates that when Saladin attacked the Nizari enclave in the mid-1170s, Sinān sent a messenger to the sultan and ordered him to deliver his message only in private. Saladin, naturally fearful of an assassination attempt, had the messenger thoroughly searched, but even when he was found to be unarmed, Saladin refused to part with his bodyguard. The messenger insisted that his message must be delivered only in private. Saladin eventually consented to send away all his attendants and bodyguards, except for his two most faithful Mameluk guards. When the messenger insisted that they too be sent away, Saladin told him that ‘I regard these as my own sons, and they and I are as one’, and that he would not send them away. Then the messenger turned to the two Mameluks and said, ‘If I ordered you in the name of my master to kill this sultan, would you do so?’ The Mameluks unsheathed their swords, saying that they were at his command. The messenger then left, taking the two Mameluks with him. The awe-struck Saladin quickly made peace with Sinān.16
Though the Nizaris twice tried to assassinate Saladin, in December 1174 and May 1176, this particular tale is most probably fictitious.17 It nevertheless highlights the methods by which the Nizaris sought to reach their closely guarded targets, and the awe inspired by these methods. The fidā’īs were not some Middle Eastern ninjas who overcame princely security measures by means of arcane martial arts. Rather, they usually reached their victims by dint of forethought, good education, and patience. In the multicultural society of the twelfth-century Middle East, where every polity was a patchwork of many races and faiths, and where the armed forces and administrative services of all rulers included mercenaries and recruits from various ethnic and religious origins, a well-educated foreign youth, especially one with good linguistic skills, could quite easily find employment in princely retinues or at least in close proximity to princely courts. Once he established himself near a potential target, and if he did not mind perishing along with his victim, it was only a question of time till a good opportunity for assassination presented itself. As Sinān once replied to Saladin’s threats, ‘I will defeat you from within your own ranks and take vengeance against you at your own place.’18 The Crusader chronicler Ambroise concurs, writing that once the fidā’īs were given a target, ‘they go away and spy out the great man and watch over him and become part of his household, being clever in their speech, until they manage to take his life’ 19
For instance, in 1126 the grand-vizier of the Seljuk empire, Mu’in al-Din Kashi, launched an armed campaign against the Nizari enclaves in Persia. In revenge, two fidā’īs managed to enter his service as grooms, and then murdered him in March 1127. In 1129 Buri, upon becoming the ruler of Damascus, turned upon the Nizaris, who were his late father’s allies. Setting the town militia as well as frenzied Sunni mobs upon the hated heretics, Buri was allegedly responsible for the death of between 6,000 and 20,000 Nizaris. From that day onwards Buri naturally went nowhere without a heavy suit of armour and a heavily armed bodyguard, but it availed him little. Two Turkoman soldiers he had accepted to his service turned out to be fidā’īs. They fell upon him and severely wounded him on 7 May 1131, and he died from his wounds after a year of agony. In 1138 the deposed Abbasid Caliph al-Rashid was killed by some of his servants who turned out to be fidā’īs.
In 1270 two fidā’īs came to Tyre dressed as regular Mameluk soldiers. They pretended to be deserters, and asked Philip of Montfort, the lord of Tyre and the most prominent Frankish leader in the Levant, to be baptized and to enrol in his service. Montfort did not suspect them. One took the name of Philip, after their new godfather, the other was named Julian. A short time later Philip of Montfort was warned that Sultan Baybars had sent fidā’īs to murder him. Philip ordered his men to monitor closely all people who entered Tyre, but he did not suspect his two new retainers, and kept them in his own residence. On a certain Sunday one of the fidā’īs stabbed Philip to death as he went to his personal chapel for Mass, and almost succeeded in killing his son and heir as well. The latter saved himself only by hiding behind the altar. Simultaneously the other fidā’ī tried to murder the lord of Sidon, but he was uncovered and had to flee without accomplishing his mission.20
It is notable that on many occasions the fidā’īs disguised themselves as ascetics or monks, and often murdered their victims in or near mosques and other holy places. Thus the Nizaris’ first famous victim – Nizam al-Mulk – was killed by a fidā’ī disguised as a Sūfī ascetic (1092).21 When the Nizaris first arrived in Syria, one of their principal enemies was Janāh al-Dawla, the ruler of Homs. Fearful of an attack, Janāh al-Dawla left his citadel as little as possible, and when doing so, went about dressed in full armour and surrounded by a bodyguard. On Friday, 1 May 1103, he left the citadel and went to the town’s main mosque to take part in the Friday prayers. As he was taking his customary place, three fidā’īs ‘dressed in the garb of ascetics’ charged him, and neither his armour nor his bodyguard saved him from their daggers. Aside from these three fidā’īs, ten other genuine Sūfī ascetics who were present at the mosque were immediately killed.22 Similarly, in 1126 the Seljuk ruler of Mosul, Bursuqi, was assassinated in Mosul’s main mosque by eight fidā’īs disguised as ascetics.
The advantages of posing as ascetics were manifold. First, it was unseemly to question yhem or bar their way too rudely. Secondly, ascetics were often unattached foreigners and wanderers, thus providing the best possible cover for a fidā’ī. Thirdly, ascetics were not infrequently learned people, whose linguistic and administrative skills were valued as much as their piety. Hence by posing as one, a learned foreigner could not only explain his good education and avoid too many questions about his past, but could also worm his way more easily into the households of targeted potentates.23
Even if the fidā’īs failed to find a place in the service of any potentate, their education and their experience in disguise could enable them to stay near the targets for weeks and months, until by one means or the other an opportunity for assault presented itself.
As for the actual means of assassination, it is not known whether the fidā’īs were given training in any martial art or the use of weapons. What is certain is that for two centuries, almost all of their hundreds of victims were killed with daggers in a public space. Clearly, on many occasions it would have been easier to poison princes than to stab them, especially when fearful targets began wearing armour at all times and surrounding themselves with guards. However, the fidā’īs stuck to their daggers, and apparently seldom or never attempted to poison their victims, or use bows or some other long-distance weapons. This was done for theatrical reasons. Like medieval kingship, medieval terror too was a show. Its effectiveness relied not merely on the elimination of one’s enemies, but even more so on frightening other potential enemies and heartening comrades and potential friends. Poison was theatrically far less effective than daggers, because it was often impossible to ascertain whether a potentate’s death was caused by poison, and if so, who the poisoner was.
In addition, death by poison usually occurred in the privacy of the palace. In contrast, the fidā’īs usually stabbed their victim to death in broad daylight, in a public place such as a street or a mosque, and while he was surrounded by guards and attendants. Even when the fidā’īs entered the service of their intended victim, they normally took care to stab him in public. By disdaining more subtle means and choosing to kill their victim in the most direct and visible manner, the Nizaris showed their contempt for their enemies’ security measures, indicating that no such measures could hope to forestall them, and advertised their abilities and achievements both to other potential victims and to the general populace. Since they were revolutionary missionaries hoping to overthrow the established political and religious order, their assassinations should be understood not merely as political tools, but also as missionary propaganda. Tales of their amazing exploits and of the helplessness of the most powerful rulers were calculated to spread their message and draw new converts.
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CONRAD’S assassins actually arrived in Tyre well before April 1192. If the story of the ship is true, then Sinān waited a long time before exacting his revenge. If the murder was commissioned by Richard or by Saladin following the Ascalon conference, it means that Sinān had already taken care to plant some of his agents near the person of the marquis before he had any clear plans to eliminate him. As noted earlier, it may well have been standard Nizari practice to systematically plant fidā’īs in key locations and near potential targets.
‘Imād al-Dīn and Ibn al-Athīr say that the fidā’īs arrived in Tyre around November 1191, pretending to be Christian monks or ascetics. By living a life of piety and asceticism, and frequenting churches, they acquired the confidence and entered the service of Balian II of Ibelin and Reginald of Sidon, two of Conrad’s close associates. While accompanying these two noblemen, they often came into the presence of the marquis himself, who thus became familiar with them. According to the Continuation of William of Tyre, one of them entered the service of Balian, whereas the other entered Conrad’s own service. According to Ambroise and the Itinerarium, both fidā’īs were accepted into Conrad’s retinue, and served him faithfully for months before they found an opportunity to kill him.
When exactly Sinān decided to activate them cannot be known for sure. If Richard or Saladin persuaded him to have Conrad murdered following the Ascalon council, then Sinān’s orders could not have reached his agents much sooner than 25 April (given that Richard’s or Saladin’s messengers had to travel to Sinān’s stronghold in northern Syria and confer with him, and then Sinān had to send his own messengers to Tyre).
It does not seem that Conrad took any special precautions to safeguard his person, either before or after he heard the news from Ascalon. Other threatened rulers are known to have arranged elaborate security measures to counter the Nizari threat, besides the common use of body-armour and bodyguards. When in 1122 the Fatimid Caliph ‘Al-Ma’mūn felt himself threatened by the Nizaris, he ordered the governor of Ascalon – then Egypt’s eastern portal – to remove from office all men who were not known to the local population. Further, he was ordered to examine thoroughly all persons arriving in Ascalon, and to deny entry to all comers except those who were known and regular visitors, and whose identities were beyond doubt. He then had to send written reports to Cairo, stating the numbers of the arriving persons, their names, the names of their servants, the names of their camel-drivers, and a list of their merchandise. Upon arrival in Egypt, the caravans were cross-checked against these reports. In addition, the caliph ordered the governors of Cairo to register the names of all inhabitants, street by street, and not to permit anyone to change his abode without permission, so that any stranger coming to the city could be easily monitored. Finally, ‘Al-Ma’mūn employed many spies and informers, and by all those means managed to unearth a number of Nizari agents.
Saladin, after the two attempts on his life in 1174 and 1176, began sleeping for a while in a wooden tower, and allowed no one whom he did not know personally to approach him. When in 1332 Philip VI of France contemplated a new crusade, a German priest called Brocardus who had spent some time in Armenia composed a treatise to advise the king on this project. Among other dangers, he warned the king against the ‘Assasinis’ The only way to protect the king against them, wrote Brocardus, is ‘that in all of the king’s household, for whatever service, however mean or brief, no person should be admitted, save those whose country, place, lineage, condition and person are certainly, fully and clearly known’ 24
These security measures could never ensure complete safety from the Nizari fidā’īs, and in any case, they were not easy to implement, especially by Conrad in 1192. Like most contemporary princes, Conrad lacked the bureaucratic institutions and skills possessed by ‘Al-Ma’mūn, without which it was impossible to monitor visiting foreigners or even the members of one’s own extended household. Moreover, he was himself a foreigner, and Tyre in 1192 was overflowing with refugees and Crusaders whom he could not have hoped to supervise effectively.
As for implementing tighter security measures, these would have availed Conrad little once the fidā’īs were accepted into his or his associates’ service. Furthermore, such measures could have harmed his bid for the crown of Jerusalem. Since medieval princes were performers as much as functionaries, and medieval kingship was a matter of ceremony as much as of government, princes had to display themselves often and make themselves accessible and visible to their subjects. Consequently, if a prince barricaded himself behind walls, cordons of bodyguards, and tight security, and made himself inaccessible and invisible to his subjects, it would have constituted a very serious injury to his prestige and power. It would also have presented him as fearful and even cowardly. After all, medieval princes were regularly required to expose their persons to the dangers of battle. Such measures would have been particularly harmful when the prince in question was a foreigner making a contested bid for the throne.
The Crusader Jehan de Joinville recounts an incident which demonstrates the harmful effects of security measures. During Louis IX’s Crusade (1250–4), the king once went riding near Sidon together with Joinville. In the course of their ride, they came upon a church in which mass was being celebrated, so they went inside to participate in the holy rite. Joinville noticed that the clerk who assisted at the service was ‘a tall, dark, lean, and hairy fellow’, and he immediately suspected him of being a Nizari assassin. When the clerk approached the king carrying the holy pax – a representation of the Crucifix that was customarily kissed by the priest and the congregation – Joinville intercepted him, took the pax from him, and brought it to Louis himself, not allowing the clerk to approach the king. Louis – whose fame and authority rested upon a carefully cultivated image of sainthood and humility – later complained of Joinville’s action, for he believed it reflected badly on him, as if he were too proud to allow a simple clerk to approach his person. Even when Joinville explained his motive, Louis insisted that he acted wrongly.25
Whether due to lack of resources, lack of fear, or fear of alienating his subjects and harming his image, Conrad took no special steps to protect his person. Hence once the orders to assassinate him reached the two fidā’īs, they had only to wait for a proper opportunity. They apparently formed no elaborate plans, and merely kept their eyes and ears open. The events of the subsequent assassination prove that it could not have been preplanned, for Conrad’s actions on the fateful day were extremely erratic, and did not follow any preconceived schedule.
The fidā’īs’ opportunity presented itself on 28 April. On that day Queen Isabella, who was pregnant with Conrad’s daughter, went to the baths and did not come back home in time for the meal. The marquis waited for her, but was told that she was taking her time and would not be arriving soon. He was hungry and did not wish to eat alone, and therefore decided to visit his friend, the bishop of Beauvais, and dine with him. Mounting his horse and taking only two knights with him, he rode to the bishop’s residence, but discovered to his dismay that the bishop had already finished his meal. ‘Sir Bishop,’ said Conrad, ‘I have come here to eat with you. But since you have already eaten, I will return to my place.’26 The bishop said he would be happy to give the marquis something to eat, but Conrad decided it would be better to return home and dine there. He left the bishop’s house, passed by the money-changers and the gate of the cathedral of Tyre, and then turned into a narrow lane. Two men in monks’ robes were sitting on either side of the lane.
The two monks were none other than Sinān’s fidā’īs. They may have watched Conrad’s palace for some time, seen him heading for the bishop’s house, and then posted themselves in an opportune place, waiting for his return. For people who had been in Tyre for perhaps six months, and knew both the city’s geography and the marquis himself well, this should have presented no difficulty. Similarly, they were by then familiar figures in Tyre, and hence they could wait in full view without arousing any suspicion. Certainly seeing two monks sitting outside the cathedral was not a particularly suspicious sight.
The marquis paid no attention to them, and rode on. When he passed between them, they rose, and one of them approached Conrad with an outstretched arm, handing him a letter. As the marquis held out his hand to take the letter, the man suddenly drew a knife with his other hand and stabbed Conrad. While all attention focused on this assassin, his companion sprang from his place, jumped on the horse, and stabbed Conrad in the side. One fidā’ī was apparently killed on the spot by the two knights who accompanied Conrad, while the other fled into the nearby church.
According to one version of the story, Conrad was instantly killed, and fell dead from the horse. According to another version, he was only wounded, but was then carried into the same church into which the surviving fidā’ī fled. According to this version, no one perceived the fidā’ī’s flight, and his robes enabled him to conceal himself inside. When he saw the marquis brought in and heard him speak, the fidā’ī realized that their mission was incomplete. He then assaulted Conrad again, and this time his blow proved fatal.
The fidā’ī was captured and questioned under torture. Before expiring, he confessed that he and his companion were sent on their mission at the instigation of the king of England. Even if these details are accurate, it proves little. Several sources explain that Sinān instructed the fidā’īs that if they were caught, they were to implicate Richard in the crime, in order to sow confusion in the Frankish camp. Moreover, the men who tortured and questioned the captured man were of Philip August’s party. They may consequently have invented the confession themselves, or at least were only too ready to be persuaded by the fidā’ī’s allegations.
· · ·
CONRAD’S murder at first caused great fear and consternation among the Franks of all camps. However, the immediate crisis was soon resolved. Count Henry of Champagne, the messenger who brought Conrad the news of his election to the throne, was unanimously recognized as the best candidate to succeed the marquis. He was related to both Richard and Philip August, and was popular amongst the local Frankish nobility and the Crusader army alike. By 5 May 1192 – barely a week after Conrad’s death – he was married to the pregnant Queen Isabella, to the embarrassment of the European chroniclers and to the utter disgust of the Muslim and Eastern Christian commentators. The couple was then crowned in Acre, so that at least the costly preparations for the ceremony were not wasted.
As for the long-term impact of the assassination, both medieval and modern authors disagree. Some assert that it was a great boon to the Muslims, for Conrad was a ruthless politician and an excellent soldier, the best man to fill Richard’s shoes and continue the reconquest of the Holy Land. Others argue that his death actually benefited the Franks, because he had been a controversial and divisive figure, whereas the count of Champagne was popular with all camps. Richard and Philip were both pleased to see their relative on the throne of Jerusalem, and the various factions of the local Frankish nobility, including Guy’s diehard supporters, could unite behind him. In addition, Henry soon proved himself to be a wise and capable ruler, who managed to consolidate the newly conquered territories during his brief reign, and lay firm foundations for the renascent Kingdom of Acre.
Whether the Franks won or lost by Conrad’s death, Sinān and the Nizaris certainly profited from it. The fact that Conrad’s death did not bring about the collapse of Frankish power did not disappoint Sinān, for he had no interest in the complete destruction of the Franks. The survival of his own small principality depended on keeping a balance between Franks and Orthodox Muslims. An overwhelming Muslim victory would have allowed Saladin to turn against the heretical Nizari enclave and extirpate it, as indeed happened in the late thirteenth century. Rather, the Nizaris’ main gain from Conrad’s death was psychological. Their deadly reputation among both Muslims and Christians received a timely boost. Henry of Champagne in particular learned from his predecessor’s mistake, and treated the Nizaris with great respect and care throughout his reign. He certainly made no attempt to avenge his predecessor’s murder.
In Europe wild rumours spread that greatly inflated the abilities of the Nizaris. Kings and chroniclers were gripped by baseless fears; not realizing that the Nizaris’ main enemies were Sunni Muslims rather than the distant and relatively harmless European Catholics, they began believing that Nizari fidā’īs were infiltrating European courts and targeting European monarchs.27
Rulers started accusing one another of conspiring with the Old Man of the Mountain to have their rivals murdered, an allegation that would become a staple of European propaganda wars. The sect was consequently held in awe by Europeans throughout the thirteenth century and beyond, irrespective of the small number of Christian leaders it actually assassinated, and of its general disinterest in the affairs of Europe. Its methods, however, were never copied by either European or Middle Eastern powers. They were simply too successful, and threatened to undo the political fabric.28
NOTES
1 The name Assassins became known in Europe as early as the 1170s. Thus a German account of the Levant from 1175 describes the ‘Heyssessini’ (Arnold of Lubeck, Chronica Slavorum, 7.8, ed. Pertz, p. 274). The word began to denote hit-men in general towards the end of the Middle Ages. Before that time other terms were used to designate trained hit-men, such as ‘sicarii’ (see for example Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, 6:342).
2 Quoted in Lewis, Assassins, pp. 47–8.
3 Juvaini, History of the World-Conqueror, 2:678.
4 Usāmah Ibn-Munqidh narrates how a single Nizari agent managed to capture the supposedly impregnable castle of al-Khirbah by himself (Usāmah, Kitāb al-I’tibār, pp. 107–8).
5 Lewis, ‘Kamāl al-Dīn’s Biography’, pp. 230–1, 261.
6 William of Tyre, Historia, 17.19, ed. RHC, 1:791–2.
7 Itinerarium peregrinorum, 5.25, ed. Stubbs, pp. 337–8; Ambroise, History, lines 8718–24, ed. Ailes, 1:141.
8 See also Ralph of Diceto, Opera Historica, 2:127–8.
9 Lewis, ‘Kamāl al-Dīn’s Biography’, pp. 234, 265.
10 On the bad reputation of hashish in medieval Islam, see Rosenthal, Herb, pp. 101–19, 137–62.
11 Juvaini, History of the World-Conqueror, 2:676. Compare Ambroise, History, lines 8822–3, ed. Ailes, 1:143.
12 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Damascus Chronicle, p. 179.
13 Lewis, ‘Kamāl al-Dīn’s Biography’, pp. 231, 262.
14 Guyard, ‘Grand Maître’, pp. 463–6.
15 The idea of specially trained missionaries was certainly not unique to the Nizaris. Christian missionaries from the late classical period until today have often been prepared for their missions by learning as much as they could about the languages and customs of their intended flocks. On the raising of Mameluks, see in particular Pipes, Slave Soldiers.
16 Lewis, ‘Kamāl al-Dīn’s Biography’, pp. 236–7, 266–7.
17 For a somewhat similar story, in which the frightened victim was the Seljuk Sultan Sanjar, see Juvaini, History of the World-Conqueror, 2:681–2.
18 Lewis, ‘Kamāl al-Dīn’s Biography’, pp. 235, 265.
19 Ambroise, History, lines 8817–21, ed. Ailes, 1:143.
20 ‘Chronique du Templier de Tyr’, section 374, ed. Raynaud, pp. 194–8; Harari, ‘Military Role’, p. 102.
21 Juvaini, History of the World-Conqueror, 2:677.
22 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Damascus Chronicle, pp. 57–8.
23 Christian agents were also quite fond of disguising themselves as monks. In 1118 King Louis VI and a troop of his men disguised themselves in the black habits of monks, thus infiltrating and capturing the town of Gasny (Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, 6:184). In 1451 the Burgundians tried to seize the town of Lunéville in Lorraine by smuggling into it troops disguised as pilgrims (Vaughan, Philip the Good, p. 101).
24 Brocardus, Directorium, pp. 496–7.
25 Joinville, Vie, sections 588–90, ed. Monfrin, pp. 292–4.
26 Chronique d’Ernoul, p. 290; William of Tyr, Continuation, ch. 137, ed. Morgan, pp. 140–1.
27 The only attempt to assassinate a European prince in the thirteenth century which can safely be attributed to the Nizaris is the attempt on the life of the future Edward I in 1270 (Langtoft, Chronicle, 2:156–60).
28 For the Third Crusade the present chapter relied mainly on: Bahā’ al-Dīn, Rare and Excellent History; Bahā’ al-Dīn, Kitāb; Edbury, Conquest of Jerusalem; William of Tyr, Continuation; Chronique d’Ernoul; Ambroise, History; Itinerarium peregrinorum; Chronicle of the Third Crusade; al-Kātib al-Isfahānī, Conquête de la Syrie; Ibn al-Athīr, Min kitāb kāmil al-tawārīkh, 1:712–44, 2:1–73; Johnston, Crusade and Death; Gillingham, Richard I; Bradbury, Philip Augustus, pp. 87–101; Nicholson, Joscelyn III, pp. 164–98; Runciman, History of the Crusades, 3:1–75; Mayer, Crusades, pp. 137–51; Richard, ‘Philippe Auguste’; Prawer, History, 1:526–61, 2:3–92; Turner and Heiser, Reign of Richard Lionheart.
For the history of the Nizaris in general, the present chapter relied mainly on: Ibn al-Athīr, Min kitāb kāmil al-tawārīkh, 1:272, 291, 304–5, 384–5, 400, 438; Abū’l-Fidā, Muntahabāt min al-mukhtasar, pp. 6, 10, 12, 17–18, 21, 25, 147, 181; Guyard, ‘Grand Maître’; Brocardus, Directorium, pp. 496–7; Ibn al-Qalānisī, Damascus Chronicle, pp. 57–8, 72–4, 115, 145–8, 163, 175–80, 187–95, 202–3, 263, 342; Juvaini, History of the World-Conqueror, 2:666–725; Joinville, Vie, sections 451–63, 588–90, ed. Monfrin, pp. 222–8, 292–4; Barber and Bate, Templars, pp. 73–7; Usāmah, Kitāb al-I’tibār, pp. 107–8, 146, 153–4, 190, 192–3; Arnold of Lubeck, Chronica Slavorum, 7.8, ed. Pertz, pp. 274–5; Lewis, ‘Kamāl al-Dīn’s Biography’, pp. 225–67; William of Tyre, Historia, 14.20, 17.19, 20.29, 20.30, ed. RHC, 1:634, 791–2, 996, 999; Ambroise, History, lines 8797–8824, ed. Ailes, 1:142–3; Lewis, Assassins; Mirza, Syrian Ismailism, pp. 19–55; Daftary, Assassin Legends; Bartlett, Assassins; Ford, Political Murder, pp. 100–4; Wilson, ‘Secrets of the Assassins’
For Conrad’s assassination the present chapter relied mainly on: Ambroise, History, lines 8694–8886, ed. Ailes, 2:141–4; Chronique d’Ernoul, pp. 289–91; Bahā’ al-Dīn, Rare and Excellent History, pp. 200–1; Bahā’ al-Dīn, Kitāb, pp. 202–3; al-Kātib al-Isfahānī, Conquête de la Syrie, pp. 376–8; Guyard, ‘Grand Maître’, pp. 463–6; Edbury, Conquest of Jerusalem, pp. 114–15; William of Tyr, Continuation, ch. 137, ed. Morgan, pp. 140–1; Itinerarium peregrinorum, 5.25–7, ed. Stubbs, pp. 337–42; Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 5.25–7, ed. Nicholson, pp. 304–8; Ibn al-Athīr, Min kitāb kāmil al-tawārīkh, 2:58–9; Gabrieli, Arab Historians, pp. 238–45; Ralph of Diceto, Opera Historica, 2:104, 127–8; Bartlett, Assassins, pp. 141–4, 188–9; Gillingham, Richard I, pp. 197–202; Runciman, History of the Crusades, 3:64–6.
Also relevant to Conrad’s assassination are: Arnold of Lubeck, Chronica Slavorum, 4.16, ed. Pertz, pp. 145–6; Bar Hebraeus, Chronography, 2:339; Chronique de Michel le Syrien, 4:210; ‘Chronique de Terre-Sainte’, p. 14; Johnston, Crusade and Death, pp. 37–8; Roger of Howden, Chronica, 3:181; Walter of Coventry, Memoriale, 2:18–19; Ralph of Coggeshall, Chronicon Anglicanum, p. 35; Lewis, Assassins, pp. 4–5, 117–18, 133; Mirza, Syrian Ismailism, pp. 36–7; Daftary, Assassin Legends, pp. 72–3; Hindley, Saladin, pp. 176–7; Nicholson, Joscelyn III, pp. 195–7; Richard, Crusades, p. 230; Mayer, Crusades, p. 148. Note that the chronicle translated in Edbury’s Conquest of Jerusalem, the chronicle edited by Morgan in her Continuation de Guillaume de Tyr, and the Chronique d’Ernoul are in fact different versions of the same text. The text known as the Itinerarium relied heavily upon Ambroise’s History, but apparently utilized other sources as well, and should therefore be considered an independent source for at least some of the described events.